Sign of the Throne: Book One in the Solas Beir Trilogy (13 page)

“On shore, one of the sirens sensed he was gone. She paused from her feeding frenzy and looked up. She tried to alert the others. ‘Mother…’

“And then, the beast exploded, rocketing bits of flaming flesh into the air before they arched back down into the sea. The blast overtook the sirens, reducing them to ash, and flames licked up what little was left of their victims. The marble temple was reduced to sinking rubble, and the ship shattered into millions of splinters, consumed by the fire. The island of the Western Oracle was no more.

“As the blast spread outward, Cael dove deep, hoping the water would shield him. Underwater, the sound of the explosion was magnified, and his ears began to bleed. The f
orce of the blast was so strong it created a wave that violently lifted him to the surface.

“As the wave crashed over him, he tumbled and rolled downward, hitting rocks and coral as he was dragged along the bottom of the ocean. Somehow he managed to hold onto the strongbox, and when the strength of the wave dissipated, he bobbed to the surface, his body draped over the box, which floated gently.

“He was bruised and battered, and blood flowed from a slash on his forehead and from his burst eardrums. He was spent. He could keep his eyes open no longer. He faded into unconsciousness, his grip on the strongbox slipping. Deep below, several dark figures drifted upward toward his limp body.

“Eyes still closed, Cael first heard the sound of waves. He felt a strange rocking sensation pulsing through his body, as though he were still at sea. He realized he was lying on his back on cool sand, and small remnants of waves were racing up the shore, coursing over his body, lifting him slightly before sliding back into the ocean. He felt refreshed, his wounds already healed.

“He opened his eyes, wondering where he was. A female figure was leaning over him, backlit by the sun, making it difficult to distinguish her features. Cael froze—one of the sirens must have escaped the blast and found him. But if that were true, why was he still in one piece?

“The creature sensed his fear and confusion. ‘Do not fear,’ she whispered. ‘They are all gone and you are safe.’

“Cael sat up. His companion resembled a siren—from the waist up, she was a beautiful woman, and below, she had a tail rather than legs. But there the similarity ended. While a siren was equipped with a serpentine tail and secondary venomous appendages, this mermaid-like creature had more in common with a dolphin. Her tail was a dark, mottled gray, smooth and muscled, punctuated by powerful flukes. Her upper body was strong and smooth as well, although a lighter grey that was mirrored in her eyes. Her hair was snow white and fell to her waist, still wet and slightly tangled.

‘Where am I?’ asked Cael.

‘Not far from home,’ the mermaid replied. ‘We found you after the explosion that destroyed the monsters. You have been asleep for a great while, so we healed you and carried you here.’

“Cael looked around. ‘We?’

“She nodded and gestured out to sea toward a familiar rock archway carved from the waves. Peeking shyly around the boulders were more merpeople.

‘Who are you?’ he queried.

‘My name is Nerine, and I am a daughter of the sea,’ she replied. ‘My family and I serve the Light. The sirens have preyed on my family for many generations. Now that you have destroyed them, we are free. We give you our thanks.’

‘And I thank you for keeping me from drowning,’ Cael expressed in gratitude. He reached for the strongbox and checked to make sure its contents were secure.

‘What is that?’ asked Nerine.

‘I am on a quest for the Solas Beir and have been long in completing my mission,’ explained Cael. ‘Please thank your family for saving me. I shall be forever grateful to you all. And now, I must go home.’

“Nerine nodded. ‘Safe travels, my friend. May your journey not have been in vain.’

“Cael collected the strongbox, and with a smile, waved his thanks to Nerine’s family.

“Caislucis was not far. He could see the castle overlooking the beach, its clean, white turrets spiraling skyward, perched on the foliage-covered cliff above him. His heart leapt with hope. Only a couple hundred more steps and he would be home. A familiar and ancient stairway was carved into the side of the cliff, twisting and turning, stone steps narrow and worn.

“His mind flashed to a childhood memory, returning to a happier time, before the loss of so many friends, before the darkness that heralded the tyranny of the Kruor um Beir, before the love of his life married his best friend and became queen. He could see the two of them together—a small boy throwing pebbles into the sea and a beautiful littl
e girl with raven colored hair—running from waves that rushed up the sand, chasing them as they retreated, children without a care in the world. He mourned for that little girl, for the dark days she could not yet see. ‘I am coming, Eulalia,’ he whispered. ‘You will be home soon.’

“Cael looked down at the strongbox he carried. Maybe there was still time. Maybe he could still save her and her child. With that thought in mind, the last few steps home took no time at all.

“Despite his solemn, worn face and ragged clothes, the sentry standing guard at the castle gate recognized Cael, even from a distance. The soldier dispatched a page to gather the council.

“As Cael entered the grand hall with its towering ivory ceiling of pointed arches and ribbed vaults, two pages greeted him, one holding a tray with food and drink, and the other waiting with a clean, warm robe. They bowed and offered their gifts of welcome. He smiled, but took only the drink. ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but my comfort will have to wait.’ He dismissed them and turned to address the council.

‘Welcome home, Cael,’ said Obelia, the oldest member of the council. ‘We are glad you have returned safely.’ Obelia is like a grandmother to Cael. She has served the Light for centuries. In spite of her many years, she still appears young and vibrant, her dark skin smooth, her golden brown eyes twinkling.

“The other six members of the council nodded their welcome. The council members are diverse in appearance. Gorman, the kingdom’s chief historian and librarian, is a tiny man with indigo skin, violet eyes, and a tuft of frizzy green hair sprouting from the center of his head. On the other hand, there’s Erela, a regal and towering figure, a dignified woman with the face of a warrior and the wings of an angel. Despite their differences, however, they were united in their purpose.

“Cael bowed. ‘Thank you, Obelia. I give my thanks to the council for gathering on such short notice.
I have recovered the Sign of the Throne, but at a great price. All of the brave men who offered their service for this mission have perished. I am the only survivor.’

“Cael studied the faces of the council members. Some wore expressions of shock, and others, grief. The men who had sacrificed their lives were their fathers, their husbands, their brothers, their sons. No one on the council was untouched by the magnitude of the loss.

“For those who live as long as the people of the Light, who rest in the comfort of being nearly immortal, such loss is rare. But loss has become increasingly common since the wars against the Kruorumbrae. Tynan Tierney’s reign of terror has taken its toll on my people.

“The men who followed Cael in search of the Solas Beir’s sigil, his closest friends, knew the risk. They went willingly. Cael told the council of their sacrifice, a selfless gift to his people that would be legendary throughout the generations.

“As much as he respected Ardal and understood the king’s reasons for entrusting the Sign of the Throne to the Western Oracle, he couldn’t help but feel angry and resentful about the loss of so many friends. The fact that the sign had been protected from Tierney these many years did little to ease his pain, or the pain he felt for the families of his friends. He vowed that their great sacrifice would not be for naught.

“In his appeal to the council, he emphasized the need to make haste in getting the Sign to the queen so the Solas Beir could return. Artan was their only hope for a victory against Tierney’s forces of darkness. There was nothing to debate—the council came to a decision quickly.

“Cael summoned Fergal. The tiny amphibious faery would bear the responsibility for carrying the sigil to me and delivering one of the halves to my son for his protection. The crown and the silver hand mirror would be placed in a vault to await the return of the Solas Beir. Fergal valiantly accepted his mission, and he and Cael proceeded to the pool of light that was the portal’s entrance.

“Cael wished Fergal well. ‘Good journey, my friend. Thank you for helping our queen and our people.’

“Fergal disappeared beneath the surface of the water, carrying the two halves of the Sign of the Throne, which seemed enormous in his tiny arms. He was well equipped for the task and slipped through the minuscule rift in the portal, and delivered the sign to me without incident.”

At this point in her story, Eulalia paused, retrieving something from the folds of her gown. It was half of a silver nautilus shell. It was lovely—its beauty was in the simplicity of a perfect spiral.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” Abby asked.

“Yes. This is the Sign of the Throne. It is an object of great power that will allow my son to return. I do not say lightly that you must protect it with your life. You must wear it around your neck at all times, and it will protect you from the Darkness as long as you guard it. Only one who bears the Light and one who walks in dreams can join the two halves. Once they are joined, you will be able to open the portal together.”

Eulalia placed the sign in Abby’s hand. To Abby’s surprise, the shell seemed alive, pulsing with silver-blue light as it touched her palm. It was almost as if all the magic and mystery of the universe had been encased within this one small object, exuding potency beyond definition. Abby unclasped the silver chain of the necklace she always wore and slid the seashell pendant onto the chain. As she refastened the clasp, she felt the subtle pulsing of the shell fall into rhythm with her own heartbeat. She looked questioningly at Eulalia, who nodded knowingly.

“The power of the Light is revealed in the Sign. The Light
will
protect you. And I think you have already had a taste of the need for protection against the Darkness,” Eulalia said.

Abby’s thoughts returned to the shadow boy she had seen in the Buchans’ home. She looked at Eulalia. “You know about the creature I encountered?”

“Yes, Abby. I saw what you experienced in my dreams,” Eulalia said, returning to her seat on the garden stool. “You are right to be afraid. Your life was very much in danger from the Blood Shadows that evening. The boy you saw is Malden, one of Tierney’s closest disciples. He is sadistic and mischievous, and very much enjoys invoking fear. It inspires him—he feeds on it. That is probably the reason why he only toyed with you and did not attack. Had you encountered another of Tierney’s followers, Calder, you probably would not have survived. Although Calder is loyal to Tierney, he has a reputation for being impulsive and unpredictably violent. You should avoid him at all costs.

“For now, if you encounter anyone who serves the Darkness, crossing the boundaries of Newcastle Beach should offer additional protection. However, if the Darkness gains strength, not even the stone circle will be able to contain it.”

“How do we stop the Darkness?”

“You are the key, the one who can reach David, who can remind him
of who he is. Connect with him and help him remember. You must convince him to come to me, and then we can restore the portal.”

“But what can I say to remind him?”

“You will know what to say when the time is right,” Eulalia said. “Trust yourself, and let go of your fear. The Light will guide you.”

The Force, Abby, use the Force,
Abby thought.
Alrighty then, Obi-Wan. Sure thing.
“So, uh…not to be skeptical, but how is it there’s this window to a whole other world, and nobody in Santa Linda knows about it?”

Eulalia laughed. “People in Newcastle Beach know about it. Or at least they used to.”

“What does that mean?”

“In days of old, there were many portals all over your world. The evidence still exists within the mythology of every human society—your Egyptians with their half-man, half-animal deities, or your Greeks with the sea monsters, Sc
ylla and Charybdis.”

“Wait—Sc
ylla and Charybdis? From Homer’s,
Odyssey
?” Abby asked.

Eulalia nodded. “Yes.”

“But that’s just a story.”

“Are you certain of this?”

“Of course—it’s fiction. It’s just a myth,” Abby insisted.

“Is it? No, it is based on truth,” Eulalia corrected her. “Why do you suppose it took Odysseus so long to return home? He slipped through a portal in the sea. Those monsters were from my world, not yours.”

Abby was speechless.

Eulalia continued. “Modern humans may discount such creatures as myths, but long ago, people understood that they were very real, and sometimes they could be found in your world. If you doubt, you need only look at how the lore in your world connects between different cultures. There are a great many similarities between the creatures, even if they are called by different names. It was not just that humans traveled the earth sharing the same stories, or even that they had similar fears. It was the creatures who were the same, and they came from the same place. In the case of monsters like the ones Odysseus encountered, old seafaring maps bear the evidence. Humans did mark their existence—they marked it very well, and gave warning for others who might pass that way.”