Secrets of Galathea Volume 1
Page 1
Contents
Copyright
Brotherhood of the Sea
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Bindings of the Sea
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Voice of the Sea
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
King of the Sea
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Join the Newsletter
More From Elle Beaumont
More Books You’ll Love
Enchanted by Melanie Gilbert
Golden by K.M. Robinson
SECRETS OF GALATHEA
Copyright © 2020 by Elle Beaumont.
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Published by Crescent Sea Publishing.
www.crescentseapublishing.com
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Cover designed by Cover A Day.
www.coveraday.com
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, trademarks, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.
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All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law.
This entire collection is dedicated to the Massachusetts beaches that helped inspire me.
Brotherhood of the Sea
Were it a more meaningful day, Jager of Limnaia wouldn’t think twice about prying himself from his bed, but today was nothing special: a change of the season, and thus much of the village celebrated. There was no reason for Jager to be out of bed.
His brother Kriegen, the star pupil of the local coven, thought otherwise. Kriegen was up early and Jager could hear his brother rustling around. “Try to be a little louder, will you?” he grumbled.
“Well, if you’d get out of bed, it wouldn’t be an issue,” Kriegen sing-sang his reply. In prior years, he had earned his way higher in the coven, and it was an honor he deserved. Kriegen was studious and absorbed his Mistress’ teaching like a sponge. He had bloomed like a bloody anemone and made his brother look like simple plankton.
Jager stiffened. He dropped his arm and shot a glare at his older brother who seemed impervious to how much noise he was creating. One swift flick of a deep blue tail and he could knock him into the wall, but it wasn’t worth the effort.
“It’s much too early to be awake. Why in the depths are you even up at this hour?” He scrubbed at his eyes and sat up, tossing the kelp-woven blanket aside.
Kriegen shot him a look and shrugged a shoulder. His hair—a deep shade of blue—matched his tail. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the seabed today.”
A scowl marred Jager’s features as he rolled himself out of bed. Today was about praising the God of the Sea, Muir. Villagers and city folk alike paid tribute, and wasted their time—at least he thought so.
He believed in the god enough, but he lacked the faith to praise Muir, and preferred sleep to the harvesting of crops which were only to be sent away on the current.
“I woke up just fine.” Jager plucked a kelp-woven shirt from his wardrobe and pulled it over his head. Unlike Kriegen, his hair was black with a blue sheen. Their tails were nearly identical except for a cluster of emerald-colored scales that hovered just below his belly button.
Kriegen yanked a shirt over his head and raked his fingers through his hair. His sharp blue eyes homed in on his brother. “You would do well to respect our god,” he cautioned his brother.
“I admire you looking out for me and all, but I assure you I respect Muir.” The brothers didn’t exactly share the same views. While he was more relaxed in his beliefs, Kriegen was devout, and perhaps that was why he possessed more magic. It didn’t matter to Jager.
Kriegen said no more and spun around in the water. Bubbles churned up as he snorted and fled the room.
A snide remark died on Jager’s lips and he mourned the loss of the opportunity. Maybe he shouldn’t tease his brother as he did, but what were little brothers for? A decade separated the two of them, which was nothing for merfolk, and despite how they treated each other they were fairly close. But as of late, Kriegen seemed to swim off on various errands, and he kept to himself in the evenings. When Jager prodded him about it, he only shrugged it off and said it was coven business.
Perhaps it’s a young mermaid, Jager thought, and laughed as he readied himself for the day.
Outside of the family home, as expected, the sea floor bustled with activity. The merfolk coated strings of kelp in luminescent algae of pinks, blues, and greens, which brought the village to life even more.
Despite Jager’s indifference, the village looked brilliant, and he knew it was good for the people; it brought the community together. These festivals might have been a waste of resources in his opinion, but if it brought them joy, then so be it.
A clap to his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts.
“So, you decided to join the celebration, Brother?” Kriegen’s lips tilted at the corner as he swam around him.
Jager scoffed. He moved forward, shooing a nosy firefly squid away. Its frills ruffled and it shot itself away. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” Jager offered and bent down to pick up a basket of finely spun kelp. What would Muir need with that? Jager wondered. Would He eat it, fashion it into clothing? Maybe those thoughts were sacrilegious, but he didn’t care.
“I already hooked up the hippocampus, I figured you’d tag along.” Kriegen scooped up his basket. It contained pearls and even some diamonds that tumbled into the sea from the cliffside.
This did nothing to change his mindset; it was wasteful. They could have used such things for trade instead of offering to a deaf god. What care did the god of the sea have for treasures, for offerings so far beneath Him?
He sighed in resignation and swam toward the cart. “Let’s go to the surface,” he muttered in defeat.
The entire kingdom of Selith was lit up in celebration. As they began to ascend to the surface, Jager peered over his shoulder and down below. Blips of neon hues bobbed in the seawater. Some were decorations and others were lifeforms.
As the hippocampus lifted the carriage to the surface, their powerful forefins sprung out first, hauling the small cart out with them. The sea creatures exhaled deeply, saltwater spraying from their nostrils as they bobbed along the waves.
Off to the side of the cart, an island blocked the view of the open sea. Kriegen began to murmur praises.
There was never a reason to worry about the Uplanders. There was an agreement several hundred years ago when they became bolder in their voyages. The sea that encompassed Selith belonged to the merfolk, and the Uplanders all knew to never trespass.
The brothers turned their head to the side when they heard a gasp. “Greetings, Oinone.” Kriegen nodded his head to the older mer.
A smile lit up her pale face; her bright orange and red hair curled against her temple and cheeks. “Greetings. It’s a fine day for Giving Thanks,”
she supplied.
“Well enough,” Jager agreed and cast his eyes on the colorful island. The trees were ripe with fruit and flowers bloomed against green leaves. It was the belief of the mer that the god of the sea lived here, and every year at the same time, they paid tribute to Him.
The mer would bring their best offering and cast it ashore in baskets. It was a sacred piece of land to them and never to be touched by anyone other than the merfolk.
“Don’t mind Jager, he woke up with his fin bent out of shape today,” Kriegen jested. He hoisted up his basket and swam toward the small landing where an assortment of items began to collect.
“I did not,” Jager protested.
“Yeah, you did.” Kriegen grinned and shrugged off whatever argument was about to ensue. “How are you, Oinone?”
“Good. I’m glad to see you here. I’m also glad that you dragged your brother to the surface, too.” The mermaid’s light, sea-green eyes sparkled with mirth.
Jager grunted, but he smirked despite himself.
The waves crashed on the shoreline. It was mesmerizing, or at least it would have been if there were no voices clashing with the sound in the immediate vicinity. More mer arrived, lugging their offerings to the shore—colorful baskets with treasures from the poor and rich alike—and muttering their prayers. It was one of the few times that the stuffy nobles of Selith willingly had anything to do with those of Limnaia.
“It is almost time,” Oinone announced as she swam toward the shoal.
Soon, a mass of merfolk surrounded the island. Not everyone attended, but a great many did. King Eidir was among his people, his proud torso clad in gold-plated armor and a jewel-encrusted crown nestled on top of his head. He held a great sword carved from whalebone and approached the shoreline as close as his massive tail would allow him to.
He lowered the sword to his palm and slit it open before allowing his blood to trickle into the water.
“Muir, our Great One, accept our tributes and bless us. We live to serve you. Raise us up. Guide us.” The king bowed his head and sheathed his sword. Gold vambraces on his forearms reflected the sun’s harsh rays as he spun to face his people.
“Let us rejoice!” he proclaimed and clasped the hand which was closest to him.
Jager looked to the side. It was Eidir’s hand he held. He bowed his head to him. “Your Majesty,” he whispered.
“May you sing true and persevere,” the king said in a gentle voice.
“And you.”
Once all the mer had their hands clasped, a hum began to rise amongst them and a chorus of song erupted. The island seemed to respond, too, for the leaves grew, and the fruit that wasn’t ripe yet, ripened. Whatever life was dead, now flourished once more, and the surrounding air seemed to still.
The only noises that resounded in the area were the voices of the merfolk who sang. To him, they were ruining the moment. It wasn’t a common occurrence to surface, and most mer preferred to spend their days beneath the waves. Jager wanted to hear the gulls laughing, taste fresh air on his tongue, and listen to the wind as it whistled in protest against the sea. The sea, however, calmed and looked as if it was crafted out of glass. The wind died and the gulls that cried overhead grew silent.
Just as quickly as it began, it ended.
The sea churned to life as the merfolk bid goodbye to their distant kin. Jager tapped his hand against the rioting waves—it was almost as if they were scolding the mer for stilling them.
Jager pushed himself from the shore and spun around to face two approaching figures—Oinone and Kriegen. Oinone was a peculiar mermaid; as far as he knew, she never took a spouse, and she was known for being eccentric. It went beyond the neon colors she wrapped herself in or how usually a red octopus rested in the crook of her arm. It was her views. They were liberal in a highly-conservative community.
There was a rumor she had a mermaid as a lover, but none dared to press it or bring charges against her in the uptight society. Oinone’s magic knew no rival in the surrounding waters, and the councilmen feared her.
“I was just telling your brother that you ought to come back to my place. You may have both graduated recently, but I’ll say it… I miss you, boys. I see you once a week as opposed to hours a day… it’s a drastic change. You’re akin to children to me.” She smiled and swept her wild hair back.
As much as Jager enjoyed Oinone and all her peculiarities, he wasn’t often willing to partake in a one-on-one social event. He found curt replies coming from his mouth without even meaning it; a personality flaw. Not that Oinone seemed to mind it. However, he could see she preferred Kriegen—he was kind, generous and outgoing.
Jager looked at his brother and read his expression. Kriegen’s brows lifted ever so subtly, and the corner of his lips twitched. A sigh made Jager’s shoulders heave, and he nodded his head.
To Oinone’s they would go.
Oinone’s home was as eccentric as its owner. There were at least five octopi that Jager counted. Their slitted gaze rolled around unnervingly and more than once he felt tentacles wrapping around the base of his tail or tickling the back of his neck. Red, black, silver. They came in varying shades.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, a few firefly squid scuttled into his view. It forced Jager to clench his fists lest he knock one of the glowing annoyances out the nearest window.
“So, I heard a whisper in the current,” Oinone began as she settled into a seat and one of her octopi took up residence on her abdomen. It playfully coiled tentacles around her forearm and with its free limbs began to caress its Mistress.
Jager made a face and dipped his head toward Kriegen.
“And what does the current have to say these days?” Kriegen asked as he took a seat, relaxing until his back hit the chair.
Jager had spent far too many days inside this peculiar hut. Bones painted in glowing algae hung about and an old assortment of Uplanders’ utensils littered the area—vases, mirrors, combs, and even an old bureau that seemed to be rotting away.
There were many scavengers that rifled through shipwrecks and pulled the finds from within. Although there was no love for the Uplanders, their items were unique conversation pieces.
“The Uplanders are growing bolder and it would seem they are skimming our boundaries. It is said they grow greedy and long for new land.” She paused and lowered her eyes. “I fear what that means for Noman’s Island.” Oinone sighed heavily.
Jager’s stomach dropped. What of the treaty between them and the Uplanders declaring the land belonging to the mer? If the Uplanders were to trample on their treaty, it would change a great deal. For one, it would disrupt the merfolk’s frivolous festivals and tributes—not that he would mind, but it wasn’t the point. It would also peg the Uplanders as an enemy. They were known for not keeping their promises, but this one seemed extreme, even for them.
“They cannot have it; it doesn’t belong to them,” Kriegen snapped. At that moment, it was clear he was Jager’s brother—his face was warped by a scowl.
Jager snorted—as if it would stop the humans by shouting: This land isn’t your land, this land is my land.
Oinone patted her hand in the water as if to settle Kriegen. She ignored his brother’s indifference. “We are all well aware of that, my darling, but the truth of the matter is it won’t stop them. All we can do is to be prepared, and as the local coven, it is our duty, in conjunction with the King’s Army, that we protect our kind and lands.”
“And what is it, pray tell, that the Galathea Coven will do to the humans when they shred our agreement?” Jager’s voice came out rougher than he intended, his blue eyes sharp on Oinone’s smooth face.
Bloodshed wasn’t an option. Galathea was known for being peaceful, and Selith, for all of its haughtiness, was not keen on fighting wars. There were other kingdoms in the sea that preferred to bear arms, but Muir knew Selith was full of guppies.
Jager’s lips pressed together. When he looked over at Kriegen, he noted the stormy l
ook in his gaze. “It’s nothing they haven’t tried before, Kriegen. They won’t succeed.”
In return, he received a steely look. His brother folded his arms across his chest. “They won’t take what is ours; I won’t let them.” Kriegen’s fingers curled into his flesh as he shook his head.
“Don’t trouble yourself now, Kriegen, it will all work out. I have faith… In Muir, in us, and perhaps even the humans,” Oinone insisted and moved from her seat. A black octopus flailed its tentacles as it tumbled to the floor of the hut, its slitted yellow eyes narrowing at its owner before it blew bubbles in her direction.
Jager watched the creature and shuddered.
“I don’t see why you have such faith in humans; it isn’t as if they have ever stuck to their word. They once hunted our kind… mounted us on piers like prized fish,” Kriegen ranted, watching as his former Mistress began to rummage through one of her stone shelves.
“I have an equal amount of faith in everyone, my darling. One can only hope for the best in all things.”
“Okay, as much as I enjoy this weighted and positive moral talk, I have things to do at home. Oinone, thanks for the chat.” Jager lifted himself from the chair and moved toward the archway of the hut.
His brother slowly turned his head towards him and flicked his fingers in the water. “Go home without me, I’ll be along soon enough.”
Silence filled the room. It gnawed at Jager as he swam from the confinement. His brother wasn’t the sort to brood or even snap, but humans encroaching on their territory seemed to change that.
Kriegen was the atypical shining pearl of the glittering sea. He was attractive, good-hearted and of a tender nature. To see his jaw hardening and the glint in his eye was more than a touch unsettling.