by Vance Moore
"Do not worry," the merman said. "I have succeeded in everything."
The ambassador must have come hundreds of yards in his blind rush. Now a squad of griffins fell from the sky, their shrieks of anger reminding Laqautus that the Order considered itself attacked from without and within.
"Satas," he called through his stone, "hide all signs of the portal and prepare to take me away." He waited precious seconds as the Order landed in a clearing only yards away.
"I cannot," the tresias said sorrowfully. "Like his companion before, my transport mage is spent in pulling your champion away. We cannot rescue you at this time."
The merman thought quickly, trapped with only his own resources.
"Send Turg to me through the permanent portal now," he cried through the mental plane. "Keep the orb safe until I return."
He commanded his champion to come. The frog resisted, still entranced by the sphere, but the ambassador owned his soul. With a despairing cry, the jack came through the portal, running toward the ambassador.
"What incredible luck," Laqautus cried, stepping rapidly to greet the griffin riders as they came through the brush. "Now the traitors are doomed," he said confidently. Confusion replaced the hostility on the riders' faces.
"What are you talking about?" a soldier snarled, rage burning through his bemusement. "The traitors are trapped in the Citadel. We came to question you," he added, driving his steed closer.
"Monstrous!" the ambassador howled, as the sound of Turg breaking through the brush made the riders turn. "My champion has been chasing the brigands, trying to cut off the barbarian's allies." Turg was torn and bloody, his wounded thigh once again seeping.
"We saw Kamahl meet with warriors dressed in hooded robes less than an hour ago. We then informed Lieutenant Kirtar of the notorious murderer and his confederates. He assured me that he would act to protect the Order," said the ambassador. At the news, a few soldiers sympathetic to Kirtar took it upon themselves to heal Turg.
The detachment head appeared lost, uncertain of everything,
The news of the mutiny must have been unbearable to most of the Order, the ambassador knew. The captain was very popular, and Kirtar was a fool not to kill her secretly. However, he knew any organization would accept outright lies to preserve the respect for its leaders.
"Take me to Kirtar this instant," Laquatus demanded, betting on the bird warrior's death.
He and his champion were mounted once more on griffins, and they flew toward the Citadel. The ambassador fought his fear of flying by dreaming up contingency lies. People streamed down the road from the castle, a few soldiers rushing from entrances. A hole was blown out the upper stories.
"Damned barbarian," the sea mage heard his rider mutter.
They landed, and Laquatus and Turg were rushed to the current leader of the Order, Pianna's sword in his hand.
Laquatus stepped forward to spin his tale, confident his story would be confirmed.
*****
Laquatus rode through the city gates, accepting the accolades with a dignified nod. The knights and soldiers of the Order were drawn up and saluted him and his champion as they started their brave ride for the sea.
The new captain was very understanding of the ambassador's need to leave, not trusting anyone as he struggled for unity with soldiers still reeling from rumors of murder and mutiny.
Officially, the barbarian Kamahl and unnamed conspirators infiltrated the fortress, and Kirtar had discovered it too late. The lieutenant took control, rushing to protect Captain Pianna who had already fallen to internal betrayers. Kamahl fought his way through the protective guards to join the murderers. Kirtar fell in personal battle with the barbarian. The mountain warrior cut his way out of the castle to the plains. There was no sign of Kamahl, and Laquatus doubted the new captain would waste time looking for the barbarian when he had traitors to root out. The ambassador wondered if the lie would hold. But what matter the fables of the plains? He had captured the orb, and the Order could believe what it wanted.
After an hour they stopped, the merman anxious to leave his new retinue behind. Laquatus conducted a series of personal interviews, and the convoy continued on without him and his champion. The ride back to the portal was tortuous, the road seeming far longer. Turg moved in camouflage, while the merman rode in a borrowed cloak. Selective illusions took them past soldiers and regular travelers.
At last they left the path and headed for the portal open outside the city. It was dark as they made their way through the brush and into the gully. The pool gave off a feeble glow, the light caught by the overhang above. He reentered the underground, sliding through the transformation with ease. Only a small squad awaited him, and he wondered where Captain Satas might be.
"Where is the rest of my escort?" Laquatus called as Turg swam for a cache of supplies and fell to eating. A tresias approached and the ambassador noticed the heavy bruising that he himself had inflicted hours before.
"Captain Satas has gone ahead to the emperor, carrying your captured prize," the blind amphibian said, keeping away from the merman. "He decided such an important artifact must be conducted to his Imperial Highness as rapidly as possible." The small creature swam backward and crowded against the wall, fearing an angry explosion.
Laquatus did nothing. The captain led him by hours and with his smaller stature and better routes could not be intercepted before he reached the sea. The tresias formed the backbone of the officer core and messenger system that he used to communicate with his forces. There was no way to reach his personal retainers. Perhaps he could fly overland and beat Satas to the sea? But he did not know the Captain's route and access to the underground was under the bastard's control. He might be unable to even reenter the subterranean rivers.
The prize had slipped beyond his fingers once more, and worst of all, it had fallen into the hands of the emperor, his master.
CHAPTER 18
Aboshan, Emperor of the Seas, reclined in his palace listening to a courtier. The cephalid shifted his tentacles, sliding back into the throne. No mere chair, the pile of coral was covered with short growths endlessly moving over his skin. The organisms cleaned and feed small amounts of power to him drawn from the building's essence. He turned and let the multicolored polyps move over another area of his body. The brilliant azure of his skin competed against the array of color on the throne and walls. His eyes idly moved as he luxuriated in the comfortable embrace. Tentacles left vortices through the water as he turned and sent a magic call to the fish colonizing the palace walls. An animal darted around, and he caught it, appreciating its jewel-like colors before devouring it.
The huge room was formed out of coral. The unique species excreted a dense mesh, becoming as tough and resilient as anything in the sea. Two large doors opened out to the ocean, and several gaps in the dome's roof allowed fresh currents of water to flow. The ceiling and walls glowed as tiny plants funneled light through the structure and spilled it out. When the sun disappeared from the upper air, other organisms would feed light through the palace. Aboshan wondered how those on dry land could bear to live in dead structures.
The emperor dragged his attention back to the speaker. The brown fur of the courtier rippled as his body slowly rotated, the selkie using unusual restraint as he reported about the land. The seal could take on a human's appearance much as Aboshan could form legs. The emperor, of course, avoided such transformations as much as possible. He considered the land contemptible. The fact that the courtier by nature could move among the land bound with ease made him suspect in the cephalid's eyes. He breathed water down, reveling in another advantage. The selkie needed air, and only a special spell allowed the creature to remain at court without withdrawing every few minutes. "The Order is in disarray," the selkie continued, darting his head briefly toward a fish swimming close by. "The new leader is a warrior named Bretath. He conveys his respects and his gratitude for Ambassador Laquatus's aid in the recent troubles."
"As if we took
any notice of land-bound troubles," the emperor drawled, his boredom plain to all. "Surely you have some news of interest beside the business of savages and their meaningless tribes."
The selkie somersaulted with agitation before settling down. The emperor yawned, used to the courtier's flighty nature. He firmly believed that air breathers should deal with air breathers, being already contaminated. Some sages believed seals, whales, and others needing air to be refugees from the land. Their ancestors were right to flee back to the sea, but Aboshan shuddered at the thought of such a lineage.
"Of course, your Imperial Highness," the seal answered, his tone hesitant as he searched for a new topic, one likely to interest the monarch. "There are problems regarding the treasures gathered inside the continent."
The emperor's attention focused on the selkie. The land might be filled with contemptible peoples, but it held the lion's share of past wars' spoils. The battlefields had only occasionally moved over the sea. Many of the prizes were lost in the ocean's abysmal depths where even the emperor's warrant had little weight. His beak snapped as he considered the dry kingdoms' salvage activities in retrieving ships lost at sea. It was only proper that his nation empty the land's treasure troves.
"Our explorers and diggers locate and transport the reclaimed prizes easily enough," the selkie said. "Bringing them to the coast is not the problem. But now that we move more of the discoveries to the court, we are having difficulties."
The seal spoke slower, for a thunderous expression grew on Aboshan's face. The emperor had instituted the policy of relocating the machines and objects of power from above the waves to below them. For decades, isolated stretches of coastline and caves on rocky islands had held the empire's loot recovered from ancient battlefields. The monarch had decided that such potential power must be brought under his direct physical control.
"Many of the mechanisms are delicate, and we find them difficult to repair," the selkie continued. "Fetishes are composed of materials that break down in the water. Worst of all, we have few trained to repair them. Perhaps it would be simpler to trade with the Cabal who is positioned to use them."
Aboshan swam free of the throne, his trident held in two tentacles as if to attack. The selkie froze as the guards became more alert. The trident was the symbol of the emperor's might, but now he used it as a simple weapon, laying the tines against the seal's neck.
"We find your suggestion unacceptable," the cephalid said, his voice freezing the courtier, as previous signs of displeasure had not. "What we have recovered is for our use," he said, the trident's barbed points puncturing the courtier's fur. Blood clouded the water, and small cleaning fish from the walls swam to dispose of the perceived garbage. Aboshan's weapon pulled free of the seal's neck muscles. An electric shock surged into the school, sending the selkie into a series of convulsions as the fish died and floated toward the dome's roof. Hidden guardians appeared momentarily as they struck at the ascending food. The cephalid gripped the seal and pulled him closer, his suckers marking the hide as the frozen selkie quivered in fear.
"The land dwellers have held the keys to the past for long enough. We shall gather hold of power and harness it to our own purposes." He moved his tentacles, and the fur began to tear free of the muscle beneath. "If you are unable to oversee the care of our treasure, then arrange with the Cabal Patriarch for workers to come here. Now go, and let it be done."
The emperor swam back to his throne as the selkie floated, then talked excitably to an aide, which left.
"Even air breathing swimmers are incompetent," Aboshan said to himself.
He regretted asking for workers from the Cabal. However, the preservation of fetishes and totems were unknown in the undersea kingdom. Most objects of power were living organisms. The care of dead magic was a rare art.
The doors against the wall opened suddenly, a wave of ink surging into the room. The current began to flow faster, pumping more of the darkness among the courtiers.
"Guards, defend your emperor!" Aboshan ordered as he called up power. Huge cuttlefish moved through the doorway, their sides flashed colors so quickly that the eye was uncertain of their shade from one moment to the next. More ink gushed from them, moving into the crowd.
The darkness coiled evilly through the water, its touch paralyzing those who could not evade it. The selkie swam for the upper openings only to contact a trailing cloud. It went into convulsions. Bubbles rose from its frame as it lost control of its body and the spell allowing it to breathe. The seal drowned in seconds, its lungs full of water and then poison.
Sea warriors swarmed through the doors, their skin covered in a translucent gel protecting them from the ink. Their spears and tridents started to work at the crowd as the emperor readied himself for battle.
The throne room's hidden guards responded, surging from the crevices and crannies that lined the walls. Octopi weighing hundreds of pounds jetted toward the cuttlefish.
Their long arms wrapped over the animals' heads as the attackers tried to escape, their hides flaring with panic. Huge moray eels swam out, their jaws closing over the waists and limbs of the attacking mer. However, illusions swam into being, misleading the beasts' strikes as the invaders continued toward the emperor.
A school of barracuda swept through the upper exits to the open ocean. Directed by exterior guards, they flew into the invaders before the cephalids could react. Limbs separated as the living knives carved apart the attackers and a few of the paralyzed victims. The fish flexed wildly, smashing into the walls in explosions of gore as the diluted ink destroyed their ability to control their direction.
Aboshan gestured with his trident, and the current reversed. The water's speed intensified, and the ink flowed to the outside. The paralyzed courtiers and the bodies of the slain swirled out through the gates. The emperor stopped as he realized his spell prevented reinforcements from reaching the throne room. Two attackers had survived every counterattack and closed on the throne, their weapons raised for regicide.
Aboshan swam toward one, his trident focusing his will. Water surged again but in a much narrower area. A thin liquid thread cut through the rebel's upraised weapon and the merman's torso. The jet dispersed blood and flesh in a huge cloud rolling toward the walls. The ruler turned, his weapon meeting his last attacker. They locked tines, the tridents contesting for supremacy.
Aboshan forced the rebel down, rolling the cephalid and disorienting him. He grabbed the helpless throat, his magic crowding through the enemy's body, rendering him helpless. Reinforcements came through the gates and the upper works, unable to find any living enemies. A few guards began gathering up the paralyzed, hauling them away to the healers for care and antidotes.
The emperor turned the rebel's head from side to side, studying it in hope of recognition, but he could not remember him. He shook the slack body violently, the eyes suddenly opening in shock and surprise. Aboshan laughed as the rush of surviving sent him into a manic mood.
"Who sent you?" he cried into the still face. "Who is behind this treachery?"
The monarch eased his magical grip on the merman's nerves, and his victim gasped and grimaced as he regained some control.
"No one had to send us," he rasped, his voice husky from the abuse Aboshan inflicted on his throat. "You are everyone's enemy under the sea."
The emperor dragged his trident down the rebel's flank, letting blood into the water.
"You lie," said the monarch, sending the tines deeper into the trailing tentacles. "You came at the instigation of our wife, Llawan. Why did she send you to kill me?"
"The ocean is marred by your armies and forts," whispered the rebel, lines of despair evident in his face. "None may trust the other for fear of informers in your pay." He breathed in polluted water and paused. "The denizens of the upper ocean must bow to your will or flee. The cetaceans suffer from your contempt and whale songs grow bitter. How can any not rise up and strike you down?" The fighter began to talk with more strength, the emperor's magical
hold weakening as the offender further roused the imperial temper.
"We are only the first lapping of a wave sweeping you aside," the captive said more boldly. "You dare not leave your palace unless escorted by schools of guards. You cannot hope to chain the seas with your decrees."
Aboshan was bright red with rage, the muscles holding the trident quivering with anticipation.
"You shall fall and Llawan, Empress of the Sea shall reign in-"
The monarch cut the speech short, plunging the bronze barbs deep into the cephalid only to withdraw and stab him again. The emperor's skin pulsed a howl of rage as he executed the prisoner.
"Bring me the captain of the guard," the monarch commanded, letting loose the rebel to drift with the current. The captain was a pale blue as he approached his sovereign.
"I am trying to find out how the attackers infiltrated the palace, sire," he said in a trembling voice. The emperor jetted back and forth, his skin still pulsating in rage.
"I know how the scum came into our presence," Aboshan said and came closer. "The question is merely one of your incompetence or active treachery."
"I assure you that I live to serve only you, Majesty," the captain said excitedly. The monarch regarded him narrowly, the pulses of color slowing.
"We think not. We think you serve the self-styled Queen of the Seas, Llawan." He swam closer to the officer. "We think you would see another on the throne, so take your seat!"
Aboshan forced the captain onto the organisms that groomed the ruler, the soldier jarring against the under lying rock. His taste was not the emperor's, and the polyps turned upon the perceived usurper. Venom seared into the officer's scales, killing him as broad swathes of flesh swelled and burst. A look of unspeakable agony showed, and the face was washed away by the throne's caress.
