Scimitar's Heir (9 page)

Despair flooded her heart at Tailwalker’s rejection, and she realized how she must seem to him: an accomplice to Eelback’s plan, unwilling perhaps, but that did not matter. He had watched her use Odea’s gifts to steal this child from the very body of their friend, Seamage Cynthia Flaxal. Never before had she used her powers to do ill. With that single act she had betrayed the two people she loved above all others. And now they were within sight of Akrotia, that much closer to culminating Eelback’s plan for Cynthia Flaxal’s child.

Eelback’s plan…

Kelpie considered what she knew of it. Eelback had spoken true when he said that Cynthia Flaxal would betray them: the seamage had tried to deny their right to declare war by order of The Voice, and had threatened the school, so Kelpie had helped to subdue her. By rights, she was as guilty as he. But now she could see how Eelback had duped her, duped the entire school. She recalled the rumors, the aspersions spread to discredit the seamage and draw support for war against the landwalkers. Eelback’s manipulations had tipped the school’s opinion in favor of war; therefore, The Voice sent them to war. Kelpie fluttered her gills in distress at the implication. How could the school be governed if The Voice could be manipulated so easily by those with personal agendas? This was not about war with the landwalkers at all, but a ploy by Eelback to capture Cynthia Flaxal’s child. Thousands of landwalkers and hundreds of mer had died for the sake of Eelback’s plan to make Akrotia live again. She thrashed her tail angrily as it became clear to her. Cynthia had not
intentionally
betrayed them; her act of betrayal had come from ignorance of the true nature of the mer.

And from loving us
, Kelpie thought, her eyes inexorably drawn to Tailwalker, whom she had loved for many seasons.
Did the seamage’s betrothal to Tailwalker influence me to help Eelback
? she wondered, hoping fervently that it hadn’t. Tailwalker glanced over, and she saw hate in his eyes, felt it like a knife in her gut. No doubt Cynthia Flaxal’s heart was also filled with hate for the mer…and for Kelpie.
And I deserve their hatred,
she thought, with one more cold realization.
And when she comes
for her child, I will pay. We will all pay…

Kelpie looked to where Eelback swam, his colors shifting with excitement. As he moved beneath the rafts of weed, he seemed to wink in and out as the light illuminated his form, then the darkness concealed it. Light and dark, existence and oblivion, truth and lies…

Why
, she wondered,
did Eelback allow Cynthia Flaxal to live?
It does not make sense
.
But Eelback is not a fool. Everything he does has a purpose, and I am going to find out what that purpose is
.

≈

“I will
not
sail this armada straight into what could very well be a trap, without more information!” Admiral Joslan declared, punctuating the statement with a fist to the tabletop that rattled the silver blackbrew service and bone-porcelain cups. “It is unconscionable!”

Gods of Light damn all sorcerers to the Nine Hells!
he raged silently. He knew he should be taking action, facing this seamage head on and forcing her to submit to the emperor’s will, but… He controlled a shiver at the thought of facing a power that could instantly annihilate a ship such as
Clairissa
. Mer, he could deal with. A sword in the gut was an easy answer to their attacks. But magic…he had never faced a foe like this before, and it unnerved him. It didn’t help that the emperor’s master of security was pushing him to make a move before he was ready. He watched Upton open his mouth to speak again, and thought,
And damn all spies with them
.

“But to sit here at anchor and do nothing, sir,” Upton said. “Is that not equally unconscionable?” The spymaster’s tone was mild, but his eyes flicked to one and then another of the flag officers seated at the table.

Joslan knew what the spymaster was doing; he’d seen it many times before.
Plotting, calculating, appraising my captains’ alliances. Assessing my flaws to report to the emperor
.

“We are
not
doing
nothing
, Master Upton!” he insisted, rattling the dishes again with his vehemence. “We are assessing the situation. Rumors of the seamage abound, but we must discern which are true and which are fabrications or exaggerations. Any information we can glean here may save lives in the end. It seems to me that
your
job is to root out that information, not to tell me how to deploy
my
armada!”

“My aides are doing just that,” Upton replied calmly, “but information about the seamage’s stronghold would also save lives. Do you not agree, Admiral?”

“Of course, but since I am no sorcerer and have no scrying mirror at my disposal, we are relegated to gleaning what information we can from the sources we have at our disposal. Do
you
not agree, Master Upton?”

“Of course, Admiral,” the man acceded with a nod, “but are we employing
all
the means at the emperor’s disposal?”

Joslan clenched his jaw at the subtle threat; if he continued to stall, what the spymaster saw as dereliction of duty would eventually reach the emperor’s ears. Fortunately, his clenched jaw kept him from uttering an ugly remark that could very well have ended his career.

“Sir,” interrupted Commodore Henkle, looking at the admiral. “May I offer a suggestion that might accommodate everyone?”

“By all means,” Joslan agreed, relieved to pass the attention to someone else for a moment while he reined in his temper. “As long as it does not involve putting this armada at undue risk.”

“Not the armada, sir,” Henkle assured him. “But if we sent a single fast ship to reconnoiter Plume Isle, it might provide us with valuable information. She could stay well out to sea for safety’s sake, perhaps send in a longboat to approach the seamage’s keep under a flag of truce.”

“A flag of
truce
?” Captain Donnely snapped. “After what that witch did to the
Clairissa
, you want to surrender?”

“Captain!” the admiral snapped, instantly silencing the man. “Do not forget that you are a junior officer here. What the commodore is suggesting is not surrender, but a parley—or the semblance of it—in an attempt to assess the situation. Am I right?”

“Quite right, Admiral,” Henkle said, glaring at Donnely.

The admiral leaned back in his chair and hitched his thumbs into his belt, scowling for effect. The room remained silent; even Upton held his tongue.

“It would have to be one of the drakes, I suppose, though I hesitate to send the least formidable of my ships off alone.”

“If I may, Admiral,” said Upton. “Sending a larger ship to protect the drake may be riskier than sending the drake alone. The
Clairissa
was destroyed, after all, coming to the aid of the
Fire Drake
. If the commander of the drake deems it unsafe, he can run without a larger escort to slow him down.”

“I agree with that logic, Admiral, sir,” Henkle said. Others around the table also nodded.

“I
understand
the logic, Commodore, that doesn’t mean I have to
like
it,” Joslan snapped, his scowl renewed. “The
Iron Drake’s
got new copper, and she’s a swift one. What do you say, Captain Pendergast?”

“It would be my honor, sir!” the young captain replied, straightening to full attention in his seat.

Joslan’s eyes stabbed at Upton. “Would that satisfy His Majesty’s Minister of Security?”

“It would,” Upton agreed.

Joslan thought he detected a faint smile on the man’s face, and perhaps a quick glance to Henkle. Was the spymaster feeding his commodore suggestions? He’d have to watch for that. But it had worked out well. Should Pendergast succeed with his task, the admiral could take credit as leader of the armada.
But, Spymaster,
he thought
, should the ship be lost, you are now on record as having tendered the suggestion that it go without escort
. In any case, the action provided a welcome delay for having to decide how and when to face the seamage Cynthia Flaxal.

≈

It began as a subtle darkness beyond the shafts of light below the weeds, gradually deepening and spreading until all before them was shrouded in perpetual twilight. Eelback’s heart hammered in his chest as the shadow deepened. Akrotia—how many seasons he had longed for this day, planned for this day? And it had all gone so perfectly. It was a new beginning for the mer…and the beginning of the end of the landwalkers’ arrogant exploitation of the seas.

The school fell out of formation around him as the mer tried to better see the city. They hung back, though; none ventured ahead of Eelback, which pleased him. He felt the currents stir as they signed wildly amongst themselves. He shared their excitement, but had no desire to jabber about it. He wanted to savor the moment. He flipped his gills slowly in contentment and watched the city resolve before him as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Finally he turned back to his followers.

*Welcome to Akrotia,* he signed to his school, and waved his arms in an expansive gesture. *This will be our new home, my friends. This will be the salvation of the mer!*

*It looks dead,* Redtail signed hesitantly.

*It is
not
dead!* Eelback signed, his fins flaring in sudden anger. Instantly he clamped them down, forced his colors to calm, mortified at his own outburst. His hold on these few mer, his most loyal, was as ephemeral as plankton floating in the currents. One mistake, one outburst, and he could lose them, lose Akrotia. Eelback would never let that happen. *It is just sleeping, my friend…waiting for us to awaken it.*

Anyone with eyes
, he thought as he gazed about him,
can see that Akrotia is anything but lifeless!

Beneath the waves lapping at the city’s waterline, a heavy ring of coral had thickened into a reef over the centuries. In places, it had broken away under its own weight to form a jagged barrier just below the water’s surface. The reef supported an abundance of life—anemones, urchins, crabs—and teeming schools of fish, which swam lazily about the mer with the bold ignorance of the unhunted.

Below the coral embrasure, the mer half of the city of Akrotia thrust deep into the sea. Though they could as yet see only a tiny portion of it, Eelback knew from the scrolls that it was larger than a hundred cities like the one ruled by Trident Holder Broadtail. But despite its massive size, the design was as intricate and beautiful as any mer city that Eelback had ever seen. Inverted towers and spires stretched into the depths, and a multitude of graceful archways led to grottos that had once housed tens of thousands of mer.

And will again
, he promised himself. Eelback watched the thousands of fish of all shapes, sizes and colors school through the city, brilliant parades of life that flowed
en masse
through the open corridors, darted in and out of the grottos, chased one another around the spires, and hid in the shadows. He could see the damage that had been done by boring worms and urchins over the centuries, the great blankets of barnacles that clung to the walls, and the soft corals and sea fans that clotted the grotto entrances and swayed gently in the currents. But Eelback saw beyond the disorder, beyond the weeds that marred the beautiful garden, and saw a city restored, vibrant with life, a center for mer art and trade. The mer would reclaim their heritage, and he would lead them into a glorious future; with Akrotia, he could take a city of tens of thousands of mer wherever he wished. No landwalkers would dare sail their ships in his sea. And if they did, his armies would drag them to the bottom.

*If it is not dead, then what is that smell?* Cutter asked, fluttering his gills in distaste.

Eelback flushed water over his sensitive nasal passages and smelled the rot of death. This was not the faint reek of decaying seaweed that they’d been smelling for days, but the thick stench of putrid meat. Around him, the other mer showed their disgust by clamping their nostrils shut, pulling only enough water through their mouths as was necessary for breathing.

*Something stinks,* Slickfin signed, swirling her shapely tail in repugnance.

*That, my dear Slickfin, is the odor of our new allies.* Eelback gestured with confidence, stilling the twitch of apprehension in his fins. *We will need them when the landwalkers come to take Akrotia from us, for we are too few to drive them away. We must be tolerant of their…eccentricities. Come! We will meet them!*

Eelback flipped his tail and dove, and the school followed. He led them deep along the shaded underside of Akrotia, weaving among the thrusting spires toward the very peak of the great city, its deepest point. Here, numerous towers jutted down surrounding a large channel into the interior of the city. When the city was alive, water entered through this aperture and circulated throughout the mer habitation, keeping it fresh. The scrolls designated this place the “Mouth” for its resemblance to the many-tentacled mouth of an anemone or coral, and the smell of rot was overpowering here. A strand of mucus drifted past Eelback, and he slowed his pace. Approaching the Mouth, he beheld the immense carcass of a leviathan of the deep hanging under the city, ensnared in a lattice of thick mucus strands that were anchored to the spires. The beast was obviously long dead and decaying, with great gaps in its flesh, but still, it
moved
. Beneath the wrinkled gray skin writhed…something. Eelback caught fleeting glimpses of long, slithering shapes as they oozed in and out of the holes rent in the corpse’s side.

Our allies
, he thought with a spasm that was part anticipation and part apprehension. He started as something tugged at his tail, and he whipped around.

*Eelback!* It was Kelpie, staring at Eelback in wide-eyed shock, signing awkwardly while holding the seamage’s finling. *Myxine? Please sign me that you did
not
ally the mer with these…creatures.*

*I made alliances wherever I
had
to make alliances, for our survival! For the survival of the mer!* Her doubt angered him, but then her gaze slid past him into the distance, and the color faded from her scales until she was white with terror.

Out of the writhing mass of dead meat, a few of the long, eel-like creatures ventured forth. They moved in undulating, boneless curves, their short arms barely long enough for their four-fingered hands to grasp one another. Six tiny eyespots dotted each side of their heads, if one could discern where head stopped and body began, and four wide nostril slits pulsed constantly; in their abyssal home, the myxine didn’t need good eyesight, but their sense of smell was superb. Their most highly specialized organs, however, were their mouths…four hooked tentacles that wriggled about a circular maw lined with barbed teeth. Eelback suppressed a shudder; he knew how the myxine fed, hooking onto dead or dying prey with the tentacles, then boring into the body with their teeth until they could slither inside and feast.