Shattered by the Sea Lord (Lords of Atlantis Book 8)

by Starla Night

  Young fry streamed past them, bumping and jostling.

  Ciran pulled back and made a buffer sheltering Dannika from the horde converging on the food tables behind them.

  Meg shrieked. “No, no. You guys, wait. Don’t cram three in your mouths at once. There will be none left for our guests. Seriously, wait—”

  Tweeeeet.

  A shrill whistle silenced the trainees. They turned en masse toward Angie, who wielded the glare of the fiercest warrior, and cowered.

  She removed her fingers from her mouth. Her chest rose and fell. And then a graceful smile brightened her face. “Thank you so much for your kind attention. If everyone who is eating now would finish, and everyone who accidentally dropped their formalwear please put it on, I’d like to say a few words to commemorate this historic first dinner.”

  The trainees with bulging cheeks swallowed, and the nude ones tied on their loincloths—including, surreptitiously, Konomelu.

  Angie graced him with a pleased nod, and he returned it with a tight smile. She wore even more decorations. Long grasses sprang from her boxy hat, dangling jauntily every time she turned her head, and a large flower sprang from the weave above her left breast.

  She opened her palms. “First, thank you so much to my son Nuno for providing us with his very first razor-stripe grouper, and to Konomelu and Ciran for helping him to bring it home safely, and to Bex for barbecuing it with her inspiring genius. Thank you to my daughter Meg for our wonderful place settings and artful decorations that will make eating so much more enjoyable.”

  Angie thanked more of the trainees and young fry for their contributions.

  “And finally, thank you to our new friends, Ciran and Dannika, who will help us finally swim beyond the coral barrier and return to the mainland where mermen are now well-known and accepted, and where we can introduce our new families and enroll our sons in a proper school.”

  Dannika’s shoulders dropped. She locked her gaze with Ciran and bit her lip.

  “And we can train our sons in the open ocean,” Konomelu added.

  “And eat real food again,” Meg said. “Like cake and ice cream and dim sum.”

  “And all of that.” Angie beamed and clapped twice.

  The trainees moved toward the food tables again.

  Angie tutted, arresting them, and gestured grandly to Ciran and Dannika. “If you please? Meg, make a little plate for Val.”

  Meg selected a leaf, scooped the different foods from their trays and carved wooden bowls, and arranged the little clumps neatly.

  Dannika did the same, and Ciran mirrored her. As they finished, Angie released the others, and they stormed the table, shoving each other and causing Angie to enforce table etiquette.

  The warriors had mounted planks onto wooden supports and woven mats rested on the sand. Dannika sat at one of these and lowered her voice to Ciran, who sat beside her. “I don’t know how to tell them they might not be able to bring their families to the mainland. Imagine getting all the way there after years of eking out a living, surviving storms and deprivation as a castaway, and having your husband and children turned away at the shore.”

  He patted her knee. “Maybe you will not have to.”

  “Oh, because the government will drop the restrictions?” She brightened and picked up an intricately carved wooden spoon. “Boy, I hope you’re right.”

  He tilted his head. Trust Dannika to focus on the positive.

  But the real reason was that he’d seen the fighting prowess of the island now. He nodded at Konomelu, Itime, and the others who took seats at the table around them. By his calculations, the island had two warriors. The rest—humans who did not go in the water and trainees who did not know basic skills—were liabilities.

  If this was all they had to combat the Lusca, Dannika’s fear about being turned away at the mainland border would never come true.

  Because they would never get off the island.

  The sunset dinner was delicious.

  Dannika crunched seaweed chips, savored grilled pawpaw and crisp green purslane, and filled her belly with finely sliced sashimi drizzled with sweet salsa.

  And then the fish came out.

  Sizzling with juices, seasoned to perfection. Mmm. Dannika had called them living in privation, but this was a proper feast.

  Val awakened and limped to the table. She lifted Meg’s miniature heart-shaped basket loaded with flowers. “I feel like I’m on an episode of Survivor. Any second now the host is going to pop out of the bushes and hand us a challenge.”

  “What’s Survivor?” asked Meg.

  “A TV show that sticks people on a tropical island and makes them compete for a million dollars.”

  “We’d definitely win. For one thing…Oh! For the love of—” Meg jumped to her feet and brushed two massive black tarantulas off her lap.

  Itime calmly shooed the hairy spiders away.

  Her middle sons on the other side started giggling.

  She whirled on them. “Kids. How many times do I have to tell you? No pets at the dinner table.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” one said, sing song, and the other echoed it, still giggling.

  “Sure, you are.” Meg rolled her eyes and sat again with a shudder. “You know I hate it when they sneak up on me like that.”

  Dannika scooted back and peered under the table. The sun had already descended beneath the horizon and dark shadows hid the recesses of the table, but she only saw crossed legs and feet. No one else reacted. The others continued eating as if it were no big deal.

  Val shielded her face. “I did not just see that.”

  “Are you afraid of spiders?” Angie asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “Don’t worry. They only flock to me.” Meg patted her chest. “It’s my Disney princess power.”

  “Well, call me a Pixar fan, but I don’t remember any Disney princesses with spiders.”

  “Then they just haven’t expanded enough creatively.” Meg waved over her shoulder at the hidden tarantulas. “Aside from Alvin and Simon over there, I am frequently tripped up by iguanas, beetles, birds, you name it.”

  “Alvin and Simon?” Val peered into the darkness. “What happened to Theodore?”

  “We’re not a hundred percent sure, because we only came upon the scene after the incident…but we think Alvin ate Theodore.”

  Val blinked. “I don’t remember that scene in The Chipmunk Adventure.”

  “Yeah, you probably don’t remember them all being hairy brown spiders, either.”

  “Here, Meg.” Angie carried over a small clay vessel. “Maybe this will help.”

  “Ooh, is it the newest wine?” Meg held her cup for her mother to pour. “I’ll have a little. It’s strong.”

  Angie lifted the vessel for Dannika. “Can I offer you Sanctuary grand cru? It’s our finest vintage.”

  “Our only vintage, you mean.”

  “Meg.” Angie shushed her playfully, and Dannika accepted the offer. Their premier wine tasted of coconut and citrus, sharp and sweet, with a definite kick.

  Nuno held out his cup.

  Angie snorted at her son. “Have tea.”

  “But I killed a razor-mouth today.”

  “Tea is good for warriors.”

  He grimaced and stabbed his third heaping plate of food. “That would be great if I ever got the training to become a warrior.”

  Konomelu and Itime exchanged meaningful glances, then both looked at Ciran.

  He straightened on the mat beside her and finished his meal.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know Survivor,” Val said, filling the quiet gap. “That show’s been on forever it feels like. Hasn’t it been on twenty years? Huh.”

  “Oh!” Meg folded her empty plate, tossed it into the firepit, and rummaged in the raised platform. “Yes. Oh, yes. The date.”

  “Ah,” Itime said.

  Konomelu’s brow lightened, Angie clapped, and the kids hooted excitedly. Meg dragged out a woven shoulder bag, unroll
ed a small square of fabric that contained a feather pen, and opened a bound journal. She dipped the quill in a pot of ink and poised over a page. “What is today?”

  “Thursday,” Val said.

  “No, the date. What’s the date?”

  “January twenty-seventh,” Dannika said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “The twenty-seventh,” Val agreed. “Is it still the twenty-seventh? This morning feels like a million years ago.”

  “The twenty-seventh…” Meg noted it carefully in swirly, artful pen, blew on it to dry, carefully capped the ink and stowed the quill, and then jumped up. “We were three days off.”

  The younger kids scrambled to their feet and bounced around the smoky firepit, dancing and shrieking. Konomelu grinned broadly.

  Angie waited until Meg collapsed at her seat in a lump. Then she tapped her brow. “Where did it happen? Early on? A leap year?”

  “We’ve had a few surprises. Remember that one hurricane? We lost a week. But.” She grinned at Ciran and Dannika. “Now we never have to worry about losing days because you guys will get us to the mainland.”

  The warriors focused on Ciran.

  Bex kept her gaze on her plate.

  Angie smiled graciously, although worry lined her eyes. “I am thankful you’ve come. We all look forward to returning home after twenty years.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Twenty years.

  Wow.

  Dannika had lost Eliot eighteen years ago. It felt like a lifetime, and yet, these women had been castaways for two years longer.

  “It is amazing how wonderful you’ve made this island,” Dannika said, and everyone smiled. “And I do hope we can find a way back to the mainland soon.”

  “God, yes.” Meg squeezed her hands together in a plea. “I miss black forest cheesecake with the passion of a thousand burning suns. And Mom misses dumplings.”

  “Rice.” Angie smiled dreamily. “Hot pot. Beef noodles. Jook.”

  “Chocolate peanut butter cups or chocolate bars dipped in peanut butter or just a spoonful of peanut butter.”

  “Noodle soup. Hot and spicy noodles. Hand-pulled noodles.”

  “Yellow birthday cake with chocolate frosting. And ice cream cake. Also, chocolate. And everything off a dim sum cart. Everything.” Meg shook herself and bumped Itime with her shoulder. “But we do what we can, and honestly, it’s not so bad. Look at me, tarantula queen. So long as you have your soul mate, you can get used to anything.”

  Yes, that was true. They were not the traditional castaways stranded in a foreign environment with nothing but their emergency kit. No, they were stranded with natives and magic. Their positive attitudes must help as well.

  “What about Val?” one of the ten-year-olds asked plaintively from down the table.

  “What about Val?” Meg repeated, scrubbing her wood-ware in the cleansing sand.

  “Where’s her soul mate?”

  “Oh, baby.” Meg glanced at Val and away again. “Her soul mate’s not here.”

  “Yep, she’s at home,” Val said. “And I’m hoping to get back to her as soon as I can.”

  They all sobered.

  Angie and Konomelu exchanged meaningful looks, and then Angie stood and clapped her hands. “Children? It’s time for bed!”

  A disappointed chorus answered back.

  Itime gathered his children. “Come.”

  “I’m old enough to hear your plans,” Nuno argued.

  Konomelu wrestled with the younger twins. “No plans are being shared until after your siblings are in bed.”

  “Dad!”

  “My son.” Konomelu lost the twins, then rose and clapped Nuno's shoulder. “Do you think I am not assisting?”

  “But…” Nuno gazed at the star-spackled sky. “I want to ask Ciran questions.”

  “You will.”

  “And I’m not just a caretaker. I’m a warrior.”

  “And a warrior does not argue with his commander.”

  Nuno thrust his hand at Val and Dannika. “Why do they get to stay?”

  “Because they are not related to your brothers. Nuno, your protests are not befitting an honorable warrior. Assist us or you will not hear the plans.”

  Nuno stomped after his youngest brothers. He looked older, but Konomelu was right. This behavior resembled a whiny teen, not the maturity the other warriors had displayed in front of Dannika.

  Hadali and Tulu crowded in. “If Nuno stays, I want to,” Hadali said, and Tulu nodded.

  “Actually,” Val yawned, “if you don’t mind, I’m going to cash in again. I feel a lot better, but I’m almost snoozing. Food was delicious,” she told Angie. “Please don’t think I’m rude.”

  “Not at all. Hadali? Tulu, help Val to the hammock.” Angie arranged netting and a sunshade for the morning.

  Dannika helped store the food into animal-proofed vessels. Bex stoked the fire and partially replaced the lid to smoke the rest of the fish overnight. The older kids reluctantly put the younger ones to bed, with Itime and Meg supervising, and then they returned with Nuno, Tulu, and Hadali. The adults pulled mats around the curling smoke of the fire just like in eons gone by. A million stars burned overhead.

  “Returning to the mainland will not be easy,” Konomelu said to Ciran. “When we escaped from the Luscan king with our soul mates, Itime’s father, Elder Daka, guaranteed the sanctuary of this island. But it has been impossible to train our young fry in these waters. Lieutenant Figuara, the previous patrol leader, looked the other way for the early tests. Eventually, we reached an impasse.”

  The fire popped. Its sparks cast a temporary, somber glow on the warriors.

  Ciran cleared his throat. “And then?”

  Konomelu sighed heavily. “Prince Ankena decided that we must attempt to finish the training.”

  “Prince Ankena?” Dannika repeated.

  Everyone looked at Bex.

  Bex poked the fire. “My husband.”

  Hmm.

  Konomelu continued. “As a Luscan, we must also avoid other cities and the All-Council. Prince Ankena took his first son, Lukiyo, to the nearest echo point to hear the news of the ocean and discover the safest route to train. They were captured.”

  “By Luscan warriors?”

  “Yes.” Konomelu closed his eyes and grimaced in pain. “I argued that I should go first, alone, before he risked traveling with Luk. But he said it would be a good test, and his father would not kill him outright.”

  “He was right,” Itime said.

  “Is what happened any better?” Konomelu slammed his hand to his chest. “It should have been me. I was his original lieutenant. I followed him where no others would go. And yet I failed.”

  Angie nodded solemnly, supporting her husband, her face reflecting his regret.

  “We went to find them.” Konomelu indicated himself and Itime. “The king had imprisoned Prince Ankena and was raising Lukiyo as his own. But by the time we arrived, it was too late. Prince Ankena had already attempted an escape and was killed.”

  Dannika’s heart stopped.

  Killed.

  Oh, no.

  No, no, no.

  Hot and cold flushed through her body, which was so strange because she was hearing about a tragedy for a stranger that had already happened, but her hands trembled with a mind of her own.

  Ripping away a key member had affected the community deeply. A father, a husband, and…She turned to Bex. “Your soul mate?”

  Bex nodded.

  Sadness welled up and crushed Dannika. It was like hearing about Eliot all over again. “Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have been a terrible day.”

  Bex nodded again, accepting Dannika’s heartfelt condolences with her usual stoicism.

  “That day was over three years ago.” Konomelu leaned back and rested on his palms. “The king demoted Lieutenant Figuara for failing to contain us. Orike has no value for young fry. He has threatened to kill us and take them many times.”

  And no
one would ever comfort Bex again.

  Dannika’s chest ached. To lose a soul mate like that… Oh, it was her greatest nightmare.

  If she lost Ciran…

  Her stomach squeezed.

  No, this wasn’t time for her grief. She had to be there for others.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Dannika said, again, to Bex. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. I’ve experienced something similar, and I know how devastating it is. I am so, so sorry.”

  “Thanks, but it’s a mistake,” Bex said. “He’s still alive.”

  “Oh. Uh…”

  The others frowned. Angie regarded Bex with pity.

  Meg glanced at Hadali in the shadows with Tulu and Nuno. She grimaced with frustration. “Bex, the guys aren’t making it up. They got the intel and they searched. If Prince Ankena was alive, they would never have come home without him.”

  Bex lifted a shoulder, unconvinced.

  Was it denial, then?

  Ciran leaned forward. “Why do you believe he is dead?”

  “Because the king stabbed him and tossed his body in the trench,” Konomelu said.

  Angie nudged him. Hadali was listening.

  “It is a common punishment for traitors.” Konomelu looked unrepentant, as though the trainee deserved to know the truth, but he softened his tone. “He did not suffer long. The trench dwellers ended him before his body could reach the bottom.”

  Ciran frowned. “First Lieutenant Soren survived a trench.”

  “Filled with what?” Konomelu snorted. “Fish? Lusca is not planted on solid rock. It perches on a nest of colossal squids. The king barely controls them with the mirror stones.”

  “It is true,” Itime said. “No one ventures into the den of the kraken and survives.”

  “It is impossible,” Konomelu said. “The king himself grieved, and he is the one who ordered the execution.”

  The silence stretched.

  “Ankena was a good man,” Meg said.

  “The best,” Itime agreed quietly.

  “His royal legacy will live on in his son.” Konomelu glanced up the hill where Hadali would sleep with the other young fry and corrected, “Sons.”