Waterfire Saga, Book One: Deep Blue (A Waterfire Saga Novel)

by Jennifer Donnelly

  Baby stopped growling and smiled back.

  “Wait, you’re…you can’t…I mean you’re…” Neela stammered.

  “Blind? Yeah. Totally. Can’t see a thing.” She lowered her glasses. Her eyes were pale and clouded.

  “But you just saw us. You saw the ghosts,” Serafina said.

  “I heard you. And the ghosts. Felt you, too. My eyes don’t work, but I still see. Just in a different way. I feel things. Sense them. Like a…tubarão. How you call it, querida?”

  “Shark,” Ling said.

  “Like a shark. I felt the three of you days ago.”

  “You’re the one Lena saw, aren’t you?” Neela said. “She told us you’d crossed her patch of the river….But you were ahead of us. How’d you get behind us?”

  “I sensed you coming and I didn’t know if that was good or bad. So I ducked out of sight. Let you pass. Felt you out. You”—she nodded in Serafina’s direction—“are Merrow’s daughter. I can tell by the way you got between those ghosts and your friends just now, like a warrior-princess. You”—she nodded at Neela—“you keep the light. I feel it coming from you, as warm as the sun. And you”—she nodded at Ling—“speak all creatures’ tongues. Talk to Baby, will you? Tell him to behave himself.”

  Serafina and Neela looked at each other. “One possessed of a prophet’s sight,” they said together.

  “Becca makes four, and Ava makes five,” Ling said. “Where’s our sixth?”

  “Let’s ask the Iele,” Becca suggested. “Maybe they can tell us.”

  “Maybe? Que diabo!” Ava said. “Witches better tell us where the sixth is, and a lot more, too. Think I came all the way over from Macapá to this cold, gloomy, repulsivo river to hear maybe?”

  Becca snapped the lid of her traveling case closed. She rose and brushed the mud off her scales. “We should get going,” she said briskly, pushing her glasses up on her nose. “Patrols could be near and we’re still two leagues away, which—by my calculations—should put us there by evening if we swim at a moderate pace and don’t encounter any more ghosts, strong currents, waterfalls, mermen in black uniforms, or—”

  There was another snapping sound. And an indignant “Hey!” from Ling.

  “Baby, what is wrong with you? Cut it out! She’s a friend, not dinner!” Ava scolded.

  Serafina and Neela traded glances. “I think we’d be safer with Traho, the death riders, and Rafe Mfeme all put together than we are with Baby,” Neela whispered.

  Serafina laughed. The others set off and she followed at a little bit of distance, watching Neela swim with Ling, and Ava with Becca. She’d taken an immediate liking to colorful, laughing Ava, and was intrigued by Becca, who seemed so organized and efficient.

  Death riders were somewhere behind them, and the Iele were somewhere in front of them, and both scared her. But as she watched her oldest friend, and her three new ones, swim ahead of her, she felt surer and stronger about facing what was to come.

  Neela turned around. “Sera, what was the next landmark again?” she asked, motioning for her to join them.

  Sera swam to catch up, and the five mermaids continued up the Olt. Together.

  THE RIVER GREW murkier and colder, the farther the mermaids swam up it.

  “We’re close now,” Serafina said, as they put the last two leagues behind them. “We have to be. Two leagues past the Maiden’s Leap—that’s what Vrăja said. In the waters of the Malacostraca.”

  “What’s a Malacostraca?” Neela asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  Serafina looked around anxiously for any sign of a cave, a doorway—anything that might lead to the Iele. The sun was starting to set. Looking up through the water, Serafina saw a flock of crows pass overhead. Their dark silhouettes seemed ominous to her. She returned her gaze to the waters in front of her, sweeping her eyes left to right, alert for danger. There were hollows in the river’s banks. Creatures darted in and out of them. She felt them watching as she passed and hoped there were no more rotters lurking.

  “We’re getting closer every minute, aren’t we?” Neela said. “Please say we are. This river gives me the creeps.”

  “We better be,” Ava said. “I feel something now. Coming up behind us. Coming up fast.”

  “Great,” Ling said, looking over her shoulder.

  “By my calculations, the cave should be right here,” Becca said, glancing around.

  “As much as I want to get there,” Neela said, “I don’t want to get there.”

  “I know what you mean,” Becca said. “I just can’t believe this. I traveled thousands of miles, on the spur of the moment, all because of a dream. I don’t do things like this. Ever. I told my parents I was checking out a college in the Dunărea. How could I tell them the truth? ‘Mom, Dad…I’m going to visit some witches. I don’t know for sure where they live, or if they actually exist, or what I’m supposed to do once I find them. But hey, I just have to do it. Don’t ask me why.’ I had to take time off my after-school job as well.”

  “Where do you work, mina?” Ava asked.

  “In a songpearl shop. As a spellbinder. I take ready-made spells, then heat pearls—Caribbean pinks—in a lava forge until they expand, and insert the spells. We export the pearls all over the world. The shop’s called Baudel’s.”

  “Baudel’s?” Neela squealed. “I know Baudel’s! I love their stuff. My family orders tons of their songpearls—decorating spells, party spells, hairstyling spells, makeup spells. What’s coming out for the new season?”

  Serafina could hear the worry in their voices under the chattery excitement. They were talking about anything—anything at all—to take their minds off their fears. The goggs had a good expression for it: whistling in the dark.

  “Well,” Becca said, “I’m really excited about the new Whirlpearl Glitterbomb. It’s part of our Cast-to-Last line.”

  “I love it!” Neela said. “What is it?”

  “We take a pink pearl and we pack it with glitter spells in ten different colorways. When you cast it, your hair, eyelids, lips, and fins will sparkle silver, blue, green—whatever you choose—for two weeks. No dulling, no fading. Guaranteed.” She smiled shyly, then added, “It was my idea. The first one I ever pitched.”

  Neela pressed a hand to her chest. “Darling, when can I get them?”

  “Um, merls?” Ling said, stopping short.

  “They’re coming out this winter,” Becca said.

  “Do they come in fuchsia, mina?” Ava asked. “Everyone tells me that’s my color.”

  “Ladies? Hel-lo!” Ling said. “I think we’ve arrived.”

  She pointed ahead—at the biggest crayfish any of them had ever seen. The chatter stopped. There were two of them. They were dark brown with shiny black eyes, and powerfully built. As the mermaids watched, they rose up and pressed their claws against a large rock. It rolled a few feet through the river mud, revealing a passageway. A freshwater mermaid, her body stippled in a hundred shades of brown and gray, swam out of it. Her face was pale; her hair was dark and flowing. She wore a necklace of fox teeth and a fitted gown of gray herons. Snake skeletons twined around each arm.

  Serafina recognized her. She was one of the witches who’d chanted in her dream. One of the Iele. At last.

  They’d made it. With the help of the others. They were finally here. Soon they would learn why they had been summoned.

  The witch spoke briefly with the crayfish. Their bristly mandibles opened and closed rapidly. Their long antennae waved. The witch nodded, then turned to the mermaids.

  “I am Magdalena, of the Iele. The Malacostraca tell me that they sense enemies half a league south and moving fast,” she said. “This way, please. Hurry.”

  Serafina, Ava, Ling, and Becca swam inside. Neela followed them, but at the very last second, shied. “I can’t,” she said. “Once I go in, there’s no way out again. This is real. You’re real. All this time, a part of me was hoping you were only a dream.”

  The witch c
ocked her head. “Only a dream?” she said mockingly. “Long ago, a great mage dreamed of stealing the gods’ powers. Abbadon was born of that dream. Atlantis died because of it. Now, because of a new dreamer, all the waters of the world may fall. There is nothing more real than a dream.” She nodded at the waters behind Neela. Silt was rising in the distance, a great deal of it. “The merman Traho knows this. He’s coming. If you do not believe me, perhaps he can convince you.”

  Neela, paralyzed by fear, stayed where she was, eyes squeezed shut. The sound of beating fins was growing louder. The death riders were closing in.

  Serafina pushed past the witch and swam back out of the tunnel. She took Neela’s hand. “We go in together, Neels,” she said. “Together, or not at all.”

  Ava joined them. “Together,” she said, placing her hand over Neela’s and Sera’s. Ling and Becca did the same.

  Neela opened her eyes and Sera saw that the fear was gone. It had been replaced by something else: faith. Faith in her. Faith in the others. Faith in the bond between them, however new and fragile.

  “Together,” Neela said.

  She swam into the tunnel. The others followed. As soon as they were all inside, the Malacostraca moved the rock back into place and used their tail fins to sweep away the tracks it had made in the mud. When they finished, the creatures hid themselves—one under a submerged tree trunk, one under a blanket of rotting leaves.

  Half a minute later, Traho and fifty death riders thun-dered by.

  AS THE MALACOSTRACA rolled the heavy stone back across the entrance to the Iele’s caves, blocking off the light from above, Serafina felt like she was being sealed inside a tomb.

  “I will take you to the obârşie now, our leader,” Magdalena said.

  She led them down a murky passageway. It was lit by sputtering lava globes and spiraled downward, branching into a network of tunnels carved into the rock by the river. As her eyes adjusted to the gloomy waters, Serafina saw that many guards—tall, golden-eyed frogs—flanked the passageway. They held long, steel-tipped spears at an angle from their bodies, creating an X between them. As the witch approached, they snapped their spears back smartly, allowing her to pass. Serafina and the others hurried along behind her. It was quiet in the passageway.

  “No one will be able to get in, at least. Not with that giant rock blocking the entrance,” Becca whispered. “That’s a comfort.”

  “And no one will be able to get out,” Ling said. “That’s not.”

  “Anyone have a spare zee-zee?” Neela asked in a shaky voice.

  No one answered her, and the witch led them farther down the passage. Just as it seemed she would lead them straight to the center of the earth, she stopped in front of a wooden door heavily carved with runes. A fierce-looking sturgeon, his back knobby and spiked, his barbels so long they touched the floor, pulled it open. Magdalena led them inside.

  Serafina looked around. The room appeared to be someone’s study. A huge stone desk, its top intricately inset with onyx, stood at the far end. Behind it was a tall chair made of antlers and bones. More chairs, all made of driftwood, were scattered about. Shelves hewn out of the rock held animal skulls, freshwater shells, and stone jars with odd creatures half in and half out of them, blinking and slithering. Plump black leeches inched up the walls. A spotted salamander skittered across the ceiling. Becca put down her traveling case. Neela dropped her messenger bag on the floor.

  “Wait here. Baba Vrăja will see you shortly,” Magdalena said. She swam out of the room and the sturgeon closed the doors behind her. The mermaids were alone.

  Or so they thought.

  The room was filled with so many curious things that it took a few seconds for Serafina to see that there was another mermaid in it. Her back was to them. She wore a long sealskin vest embroidered with silver thread. A scabbard made from eelskin hung from her waist. Her tail had the bold black and white markings of an orca. Two ornate braids ran along the sides of her head; the rest of her white-blond hair flowed long and loose. She turned suddenly, and Serafina gasped as she looked into a pair of icy blue eyes.

  It was Astrid.

  Admiral Kolfinn’s daughter.

  From Ondalina.

  SERAFINA’S TAIL thrashed furiously. Alarms went off in her head.

  It’s a trap! she thought. How could I have been so stupid?

  “Coward!” she snarled at Astrid. “Ambushing us like this! Did you come alone? Or did you bring your assassins?”

  “You!” Astrid spat. “This is typical Merrovingian treachery. Good thing you brought backup, Principessa. You’ll need it!”

  Astrid lunged, fins flaring. Serafina dodged her. The two whirled around a chair, poised to attack. Baby went wild. Ava could barely contain him.

  “Merls, hey…that’s enough,” Ling warned, but Sera and Astrid ignored her.

  Serafina’s fury was alive. She could feel it, roiling and twisting inside her, wrapping its red tentacles around her heart. She could hear its laughter—gurgling and low.

  “First your spies try to kill my father by putting a sea burr under his saddle—one that only grows in Miromaran waters,” Astrid hissed. “You’ll be disappointed to know he only broke some ribs, not his neck. Then they mixed poison into his supper. Venom from a Medusa anemone. You know those, don’t you, Serafienda? They grow in the reefs off Cerulea!”

  “Don’t accuse Miromara of using Ondalina’s methods! The assassin’s arrow that wounded my mother was dipped in brillbane. Cerulea was attacked by soldiers wearing the uniforms of Ondalina. I was there. I saw them!”

  “Stop, both of you! Please!” Neela begged.

  “Your father’s soldiers destroyed my city!” Serafina shouted. She swept a handful of water into a ball and hurled it at Astrid, casting a stilo songspell as she did. Spikes sprouted from the ball as it neared its target.

  “Isabella ordered my father’s death!” Astrid yelled, deftly ducking the missile. She did not fire back with a spell of her own. Instead, she pulled her sword from its scabbard, and swung it at Serafina.

  “Kolfinn killed hundreds of innocent people!” Serafina spat, parrying the blade with a deflecto spell. It crashed down across the water shield she’d conjured, spraying droplets like shrapnel.

  A door located behind the stone desk suddenly banged back on its hinges. An elderly mermaid swam through it. She was dressed in a long black cloak, a ruff of ebony swan feathers at her neck. Her gray hair was coiled at the back of her head. On her hands she wore rings carved from amber. Their prongs held eyeballs that swiveled and stared. Her own eyes blazed with anger.

  “You fools! How dare you behave this way in the presence of the Iele!” she thundered.

  Serafina and Astrid stopped still, the red trance of rage broken.

  “You were not summoned here to fight. That’s exactly what the monster wants. It wants you to destroy each other.”

  “You’re Baba Vrăja, aren’t you?” Neela said, her eyes wide, her voice hushed with awe. “Oh. My. Gods. I can’t believe it. I saw you in my dream. But Duca Armando said the Iele are only myths, like the ones ancients told to explain thunderstorms. He said you were just a story.”

  “Then your duca’s a fool,” said the witch. “Stories don’t tell us what a thunderstorm is, they tell us what we are.” She looked each of the six mermaids over in turn, her black eyes glittering. “Come. Follow me and I will show you an adversary worth fighting.”

  Before anyone could respond, Vrăja turned and swam back through the doorway. Neela, Ling, Serafina, and Becca were right behind her. Ava warned Baby to stay put, then followed the others. Astrid brought up the rear. Vrăja led them down a winding tunnel. They had to move fast to keep up with her. Some young river witches were swimming up the tunnel in the opposite direction. They touched their steepled hands to their foreheads as they approached her. One was bruised. Another bloodied. One, nearly unconscious, was being carried.

  “Tell me again why we came here?” Neela whispered nervously.


  “I think we’re about to find out,” Serafina said.

  “I hear chanting,” Becca said.

  “Me too,” Ling said. “Ava, can you see anything?”

  “Not so much as a minnow,” Ava replied. “Is there iron nearby?”

  “Yes. An iron door. Up ahead of us,” Ling said.

  “Where does this crazy little tour end, anyway?” Astrid called out from the back.

  “At the Incantarium. Turn back if you are afraid,” Vrăja said, stopping by the iron door.

  “Afraid? I’m not afraid,” Astrid scoffed. “I just want to know where I’m—”

  Vrăja cut her off. “A moment ago, I said that stories tell us who we are. There is something behind this door, and its story will tell you who you are. Before I open it, be sure you truly want to know.”

  No one turned back. Vrăja nodded, then swung the door open. As she did, the sound of chanting grew louder. A scream of rage echoed off the thick stone walls. The water was heavy with the scent of fear.

  “Oh, gods,” Serafina whispered as she looked into the room.

  In front of her eyes, a nightmare came to life.

  IN THE CENTER of the room, the waterfire burned.

  Eight river witches—incanti—swam counterclockwise around it, chanting, hands clasped, just as they had in Serafina’s dream. Their faces were gray and gaunt. Blood streaked the lips of one, and dripped from the nose of another. Bruises mottled the face of a third. Sera could see that the magic cost them dearly.

  Vrăja circled the witches, her eyes on the waterfire. “Du-te înapoi, diavolul, înapoi!” she shouted at the thing inside it. Go back, devil, back!

  As Serafina swam closer to the witches, she saw an image rippling within the ring of waterfire. She recognized it; it was the bronze gate, sunk deep underwater and crusted with ice. Behind it, something moved with a feral grace. An eyeless face appeared at the bars. Above it rose a pair of cruel-looking, jet-black horns.

  “Shokoreth!” it howled, as if it somehow knew Sera and the others had come to hear it. “Apateón! Amăgitor!” The monster threw itself against the gates. They shuddered and groaned. The ice encrusting them cracked. “Daímonas tis Morsa!”