by Chris Howard
Kassandra kicked over the rubble of the gates, followed by Alex and Nicole, Zypheria with her crossbow in one hand, propped against her hip. Ochleros swept through the walls after them. And then the army marched in, climbing the broken hill of stone in even steps.
The Sea stopped and stood a hundred kicks inside the walls, turning to a narrow structure with dark open archer's slots for windows. She held up her hand, called for her army to halt, to remain in march formation. She was about to take a step toward the little building, when something else caught her attention, a small group of soldiers on orcas, the House Dosianax banner and the long eeling tail of the royal flag, a hundred feet of black rippling silk with a gold seashell spiral.
She gave the king and his party an I'm-a-little-busy-here glare, and kicked over to the archer's stand point, tearing off the door, revealing three shrieking children. They couldn't have been older than nine, two boys and a girl, one of the boys, pulling his friends behind him, defending them against the monster who had stormed their city. Kassandra smiled, and backed away from the door, gave them a bow, and waved her hand high in the water. "You have nothing to fear from me, my children. Go home, warn your mothers, your fathers, brothers and sisters, not to flee the city. That Lady Kassandra, ruler of all the oceans, has come only for Tharsaleos—say it just like that: not king. Just Tharsaleos." She bowed again, and kicked away, looking over her shoulder, smiling at the churning water as they dashed over the channel-lining shopfronts toward home.
The king and his trusted Eight had paused, watching her, wondering what kind of trap she was setting, what game she was playing.
Kassandra folded her arms, setting her feet down in the middle of the Ocean Channel, the main thoroughfare into the city from the front gates. The party of orcas and soldiers stopped within shooting distance of Zypheria, and the king and three of his trusted Eight slid easily from their saddles, kicking low along the road, swinging up to land on their feet, King Tharsaleos in the center, flanked by two enormous soldiers in smooth green armor that flexed with the muscles underneath, their hair braided in eights with gold wire and rings; the third took up his position right behind the king, fingers hooked, a glowing spiral of dust around his shoulders, sharp shoots of fire coming from his fingers.
Kassandra smirked, gave Tharsaleos a nod. "Hey granddad. How do you want to die?"
"You are not welcome here, Alkimides. Who do you think you are, allowing the dead inside these walls?"
Nicole tightened in fear. Kassandra laughed. "What a funny question. Seriously? Would I be here if I did not know exactly who I am?"
"You can't come in here. Not with them."
Her voice went cold and serious. "But who is going stop me?"
"I will!"
She laughed again, a young carefree chuckle that went a little choppy, almost a giggle. And it went on too long. Seeing his face reddening, she waved at him dismissively. "Oh, I wasn't laughing at you. I was thinking something very silly, grandfather." She laughed again because she couldn't help it.
Tharsaleos' face shook in rage, jaw twitching. A vein squirmed under the skin of his forehead. "I will stop you." He pushed the words through his teeth.
The amused expression slid off of Kassandra's face, and in a flat voice, she said, "You and what army?"
He stared at her, fury cresting some mountain in his soul, rolling down the other side without brakes, his shoulders jumping in uncontrolled spasms.
She caught his eyes, smiled when she felt his tug, a stronger pull, trying to break her grip on him. "No really. You and what army?"
Kassandra started with a smile, but it vanished before it made its way completely to her lips. A shudder ran through her, and she looked away, let the king go. She spun, her arms out, fingers spread, sang one sharp note, and the sea went still. She stood in the center of a frozen column of ocean, miles high, floor to the surface. She turned, a slow motion scan of the city, the spaces between the buildings, high on the wall, found what she was looking for.
An archer, by himself, left behind after the rest of the army had fled, braced against a column, weapon aimed, bow flat, spent, its bolt already fired. The point of a slender long range crossbow bolt stood a foot away from Nicole's back, motionless, hanging in the water.
Alarms were blaring along the decks of a US Navy destroyer crossing the Atlantic, clicking emergency lights in the walls, the crew picking themselves up off the floor, rubbing bruises. The ship had run aground, metal screaming as the hull hit and ran over something very solid in the water, twin screws grinding against the force. One of the propellers snapped off at the shaft, spinning blades sliding across the ocean's surface as if it was ice.
The blue waves, frosted along the edges, did not move. It was as if the ship had slid into some kind of stop in time, the tides frozen around her. The broken propeller spun on its face across the waves.
Then time started around the destroyer, and the giant blades spiraled into the deep, vanished beneath the surface, sinking fast, flipping vertical, lost in the dark.
The propeller fell through thousands of feet of water, spinning free in the pure black ocean, through the space that had been shielded by the King's Protection, into the judging stone of Lord Gypselos. The massive carved block shattered, a slow cloud of rock dust, sharp hammered chunks of stone flipping over the tiles of the justice square.
Kassandra swam past Nicole, shoving her aside. She snapped the bolt out of the water, turning to the archer, reached out one hand and pulled him from his position, yanked him toward her. He lost his grip on his weapon and it flipped and rolled into the streets below. A moment later, he was on his knees in front of her, mouth gaping, eyes locked with hers.
Kassandra waved her hand, and released the ocean, let the currents slip free from her hold, return to their normal course.
The king and his trusted three blinked, shaken by what had just happened.
Kassandra had her back to them, leaning over the archer, her voice roaring, "You're an Alkimides." There was incredulity in her tone. "Keep your eyes on me!" His face jerked away from the king. Kassandra pointed behind her at her grandfather. "I am Alkimides! He is not. You look at him one more time and I'll use my fingernails to dig out your eyes. Do you understand me?" He nodded. She pointed back to the city walls. "Return to your post." He jumped into the water, kicking away.
She turned back to the king in time to take in the attack from the one with fire at his fingertips. The guard at King Tharsaleos' back, danced into the water over the king's head, his song coiling snakelike fire across the space to Kassandra.
She let out an annoyed sniff, breathed it in, a flare of yellow light sucked into her mouth, the glow coming demonically through her teeth. The blast of fire vanished, and left only the shadows. Kassandra rolled it around as if gargling, and swallowed it.
"Maybe I haven't made it clear who I am?" She flexed her fingers and her crown came to life, a burst of jagged light, blinding them all. She held out her hand, curling her fingers around her trident, let it slide through them to hit the paving stones with an earthquake's force. "I am the fucking Sea, Tharsaleos. I can feel every cell in the tissue in your lungs, the thump of your heart, every pulse of blood in your veins. I control the ocean's power. I can take away your curse in the time between any one of your heartbeats."
She twirled three fingers, sang softly, and the fire sorcerer curled inside himself; the pressure flattened him into blood vapor and bone chips and the weird glowing dust that lingered, drifting to the stones with his body, darkening, dying with their master. "You should know that the only thing that keeps me from wiping this entire city off the ocean floor is my sister. You know, I promised her some sightseeing." She pointed to Nicole, who gave him back a slow, serious you-better-do-what-she-says nod. "And I hate to break my promises."
Tharsaleos stood shaking, his feet rooted to the floor of the Ocean Channel, the central thoroughfare running from the main gates.
Kassandra pointed to the remains at her
feet. "So, who was your pet fire mage, grandfather?" She waited while he stammered some name, then nodded as if it didn't matter anyway. "He was a beginner. Let me show you what I am capable of."
Without warning, Kassandra twisted, planted her right foot deep, and threw the rest of the roiling ball of storm almost straight up. She watched him calmly, folded her arms, and waited while everyone else, including the king stared up.
There was a hollow boom that shook the ocean, and Helios' Twin snapped out of its invisible tracing over the city, out of the heavens. The ball of fire that had served the seaborn as a star, a source of heat and light for thousands of years, soared off, a burning smear of gold lost in the abyss night, exploding on the far side of the southern mountain range with streams of white and purple.
The city went dark and Kassandra's laugh made their bones go fluid and cold. She stepped right up to Tharsaleos, standing as tall, her crown making him squint. She tapped him on the shoulder with the crossbow bolt. "Think any the little fire conjurers you're training will be up to that task before everyone in the city dies? Think you can fix that without me, grandfather? I'm made of that stuff, old man. Don't test me."
He waved his guards back, and without a word, the two of the trusted Eight at his side retreated, back-kicking up the channel to their orcas.
The king's voice dropped to private bargain levels, but fear stood clear on his face, one of his eyes twitching. "What do you want Alkimides?"
"I've come to take you off the throne. You're going to step down or I'm going to make you." Her hand snapped out before he could move, caught his short white beard, and yanked him off his feet. "I am the chosen of Lord Poseidon. I am the ruler of the oceans. And I like things done a certain planned and proper way. If you think I can't take your throne as easy as spit, then challenge me one more time."
While Tharsaleos stared angrily, Kassandra pondered something, and then hit him again with the crossbow bolt to keep his attention. "You know it's funny, unlike so much of the surface world where it is the male of the species who is the most feared, who dominates the group, the tribe, the herd, the pride, the pack, in the sea it is in so many cases, the other way around. In the sea, it is the female who is the real killer, the stronger, larger, and real predator of the species. Male sharks are push-overs. It is the females you have to watch out for." She leaned close, biting down, made a clicking noise with her teeth. "They're much bigger, they're smarter, more controlling, and when they come in for the kill, the males scatter, because, you know, sometimes it's hard to tell them apart from the prey."
The king stared at her, opened his mouth when his lips began to twitch, then clamped them tight and angry. "You cannot have House Alkimides." He pointed to his party, to one of the orcas in the center, surrounded by his trusted Eight. Pythias' sister had ridden out with the king, along with their two young sons, "You're aunt Isothemis is queen and lady of the House."
Kassandra fixed her gaze on her great aunt. She went completely still for a few moments, and then bowed her head to the queen.
"That is fine, because Dosianax is mine."
The king made a little snorting noise. "That is one house, still one short for the assembly."
She sighed deep, a long gust of water. As if something terribly important had slipped her mind, Kassandra slid back in the water, put a hand on Alex's shoulder. "It really astonishes me that again you underestimate me, grandfather. I cannot imagine what would make you think that I would come to my city unprepared. Do you have any idea how much plotting, manipulating, and outright shoving I had to do to make all of this work? And you have this silly notion that I'd come all this way, and not be able to follow through with my plans?" She turned, ran her fingers affectionately through Alex's hair. "Let me introduce Alexandros Lord Telkhines."
The king stared at Alex, his mouth falling open, empty of words. Alex turned to stare at Kassandra. Lord what?
The stunned silence went on too long for the king to dismiss it. He pointed at Alex. "You cannot open gates to the Telkhines fortress."
Alex looked at Kassandra, trying not to look as if he hadn't a clue what was going on. She nudged Alex and pointed at the book.
"Show my grandfather the book. He knows it well. He took it from my father once, and possessed it for years. Go ahead, dear Alex. Open it up, show him the still words, every page under your control—something only a lord of the Telkhines is capable of."
Alex slid the book out in front of him, held it up, and pulled open the end boards. The pages fluttered, Nastaros doing an impressive job of turning pages mockingly.
"You see, Tharsaleos? I don't think my friend, Alexandros is going to have one bit of trouble getting into his city. A bit overgrown with coral, I'm sure, dormant all these centuries." She tipped her head to Tharsaleos. "We'll let Alex get settled into his old home, give him time to clean the place up a bit, and then I think all the great houses should get to together—assemble—for a nice chat, grandfather." Her voice went chilling and rough, returning to the you-and-what-army tone she'd used a moment before. "Then we'll see who is ruler of all the Thalassogenêis."
She turned, waving Ochleros to her. "My old friend and protector, one more task, and then I release you and all of your kin from my authority, release you forever. And may you never again fall under the sway of anyone or anything. "Go, Ochleros, release Phaidra from her prison. Rexenor is ready to come home."
Tharsaleos watched the demon fly back through the open city gates. His voice went thin in desperation. "Who do you think controls the other houses?"
"I do. You have performed well, grandfather. They all fear me. I am the mad Wreath-wearer, with rumored powers, death and destruction, unbalanced, out for their blood. I can unleash death on the Nine-cities at the snap of a finger." She held one hand up, her fingers pressed together to emphasize the point.
He kicked away from her, his hands trembling.
Kassandra stabbed a finger at him. "Don't piss me off."
The King of the Seaborn bowed his head, retreating to his entourage. He bent to kiss his sons. Then turned to Isothemis. "You have seen much from your position, my queen, but you will not see a blood relation on the seaborn throne."
Tharsaleos put a hand on her shoulder, mock sorrow in his eyes. She tried to shrug it off, but he tightened his grip, wrenching her body toward him. He slid a knife out of his sleeve, gripped it, and drove it into her throat. Her eyes pleading wide, fingers gesturing, trying to work a song, Isothemis Queen of the Seaborn, watched with her final moments of life as Tharsaleos spun and cut the throats of his own sons, Tharsiadas and Zomenes.
Kassandra shot at Tharsaleos like a rocket, broke two of his fingers pulling the knife from his hand. The king's trusted Eight turned on her, jumped into a coordinated attack of swords, spears, two with crossbows, two more with strong bleeds, lightning burned a seam up her armored back. One of the crossbowmen pulled the trigger an arm's length away, the bolt hitting her like hammer, not piercing the armor, but the impact shoved her forward into the swords of two others.
Zypheria grabbed Nicole by the arm, holding her back from the fight, kicking to position herself in front of Alex. It was already over. Kassandra sang a rapid string of notes, twirling in the water, fingers doing an alternating dance of stiff pointing and fluid curling gestures. The Eight kicked back from her, dropping their weapons, clawing at their faces, a burn in their eyes, the sight ripped out of them. The two with bleeds found their throats burned raw, unable to sing, their fingers broken, unable to make the motions.
And Kassandra grabbed Tharsaleos by the throat, wanted so badly to crush the life out of him. She let out an angry gust of water, and let him go.
She drifted away, her head thrown back, and she cried, screamed curses, and the tears came, hundreds of them, and out of them spilled the sea-daimones, demons who grew to Ochleros' size, some larger, demons with tentacles and claws, and demons that glowed with inner fire. They shot out of her tears, spiraling through the city, surrounding the Se
a, their goddess. One picked up Tharsaleos and cupped him in his claws like a prison, rumbling something in a language none of them knew—although Kassandra nodded wearily at him.
Nicole broke from Zypheria's hold, and rushed to her sister with two strong kicks.
Kassandra stared at her, shaking her head; her voice came out a rough, bewildered whisper. She sounded like a girl, a very quiet, hurt little girl—who had been punched in the face. "Why? Can't...That wasn't supposed to happen, not in the plan. Parents aren't supposed to kill their children, aren't supposed to see their children die. They're not. Other way around—I make the mistake that leads to their deaths." She trembled. "What have I done?"
Nicole took her in her arms. "It isn't your fault."
"Why are you so sure? How can you be? Nicole," she cried, "Nicole." Her voice softened to sobbing. "Oh, Nicole, I have made all of this happen—a plan for everything. I hope that I can make up for all the horror I have put you through." Kassandra dug her face into her sister's shoulder. "My whole life, every moment I had to myself, I just wished...just wished."
Nicole held her like a child, rubbing her back, a gentle whisper, "What? What did you really wish for?"
Kassandra pulled away, staring at her sister, her voice a hazy lost string of words, clinging together in the currents, a line of drifting debris from a ship that had gone beneath the waves. "I wished I could be you, instead of me."
The assembly of the Great Houses convened in darkness, three days after Kassandra tore the front gates off the Nine-cities and marched in at the head of her dead army.
She had sent her army to wait in formation a mile from the city walls, cold and dead, motionless in the currents, a goddess's vast chess set waiting for the game.
The meeting chamber of the Great Houses wasn't a large room, but it was old, something out of history, carved of pale stone, and grown from directed branching corals, folded delicate weaves of it, vines threaded to form arches, stairs, even the nine seats, arranged in a semi-circle, each identical to the one next to it, thrones carved from heavy green-veined pink stone.
