Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4)

by Nadia Scrieva

  As he ate, he was pleased with the taste of the food. He was surprised with what she had managed with a few spices and their awful canned goods. Both Aazuria and Zalcan were used to luxury, but they had both easily switched to eating for survival. This was something which the human body knew instinctively how to do. She realized that they actually did share a lot in common due to their royal undersea upbringing, and that could also be used to her advantage.

  She touched his arm gently.

  “Hamnil. I would really like to take a swim,” she said softly. “I feel so cramped up in this small cabin.”

  “I can’t let you go off on your own,” Zalcan said, a bit surprised with her request. She had requested nothing so far.

  “That is why I was hoping you would come with me,” Aazuria said, giving him a smile. “I may not be very young, but my body is, and I need to feel the water against me. I need to breathe the water; I need to swim in it. I am only half alive on land.”

  As she spoke, she arched her back a little, and stretched her neck from side to side to indicate her physical feeling of confinement and longing to move. As a dancer, she knew how to communicate simple feelings and emotions with the smallest movement of her fingers and toes. Apparently, she also knew how to make even a gay man salivate.

  With Zalcan’s distorted face and scarred lips, a little dribble began making its way down his bumpy chin. It was a moment before he felt its presence and wiped it away. Aazuria felt a swell of satisfaction laced with a drop of disgust.

  “There might be unknown dangers,” her captor explained. “The access to the lake is mainly for research purposes—no one has ever been out there without a special wetsuit. There might be new bacteria in this lake which could make you sick. The pressure will be massive. The research has not been concluded since my father stopped funding expeditions here and directed his funding back into the military.”

  Aazuria swallowed back a little gulp of fear. Note: I cannot afford to face some new disease while carrying a child. There may be no cure—and even if there was a cure, I could never get medical attention in time. He is right. This is too dangerous. She hesitated, but a deep pull inside of her reminded her that she needed the water. On the other hand, maybe if I faked that I had some new incurable disease from the bacteria in Lake Vostok, that could be my ticket out of here...

  “It will fine,” she said with a smile. “I am sure the water here is far more pure than anywhere else on earth. We have been drinking it, have we not? It must be fine to breathe it as well. Besides, Hamnil. A little danger and adventure sounds wonderful to me.” She moved her finger in circles on his forearm. “To be honest, I am bored senseless.”

  “I will escort you out for a swim,” he said.

  “Thank you, Prince Hamnil,” she said with a gracious smile and respectful curtsey. “I truly appreciate this.”

  “You are very welcome. I am also sick and tired of being cooped up in here. Next time, I’ll imprison you forever in a New York City hotel room so we can have cable and internet.”

  Aazuria smiled. I will not laugh. I know that perhaps I should laugh to convince him of my harmlessness and friendliness, but I cannot force the laughter out of me. I feel ill at the prospect of sharing a moment of humor with him. Someday… someday soon, things will go my way. For now, one step at a time.

  Prince Hamnil had some difficulty getting the complex doors to work. Massive metal doors led from the cabin out to the subglacial lake. There were two chambers one had to pass through before exiting. They could not allow any water into the research station to damage the sensitive equipment and papers there, so there was a double door strategy, similar to a lock. Aazuria felt like she was leaving a spaceship and entering the dark abyss of space itself. When the final door opened to release her into the water, she tilted her head back and let it engulf her.

  When her body was immersed in water for the first time in months, she felt like crying. Yes, she had really needed this. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs until they felt like they were going to burst. She felt an immediate rush of oxygen to her brain which caused her vision to explode in a kaleidoscope of color, even in the darkness. She could not stop sucking breath after breath of air into her body. When her lungs were exhausted, she began to gulp the water into her stomach, and that was equally refreshing and rejuvenating. She recognized that there was a definite difference in the taste of the water as well as the way her body reacted to its consumption.

  She glanced over at Zalcan and saw that he was a bit dizzy and disoriented from the influx of oxygen. Usually, water did not pack such a punch. This lake was something special. Aazuria wished that she had Sionna around to explain the physical properties of the water, and why it was so unique. She placed her hands on her stomach, feeling hope blossom inside her for the first time.

  We are in the water again, Varia, she thought, as she closed her eyes and pictured her daughter. This immediately surprised her—not only had she assumed the gender of her child, but she had already given her a nickname? It seemed so natural and effortless. Your father wanted to call you Clavaria, but I seem to have shortened it to Varia—is that fine with you? I wish that Prince Zalcan Hamnil was not here. I wish I could just keep my hands on my stomach and speak to you all day. You are going to be an amazing woman. Indeed, as Aazuria sent these thoughts to her unborn daughter, the different stages of the life of a young woman seemed to flash before her eyes. She could see the white-haired girl as an infant, sitting on the small bed in the undersea cabin. She could see her as a toddler, in the endless snow of Antarctica. She could see her as a teenager, in a futuristic underwater city she did not recognize. There were submarines so densely packed that it resembled… traffic? Varia was driving one, and she seemed impatient.

  “Can we just swim, Mother?” she asked with annoyance. “We’re going to be late.”

  Aazuria opened her mouth to respond and reached out to touch the girl, but the vision disappeared. She shook her head in confusion. Perhaps the subglacial water had helped her mind to work well enough to know these things. Or, perhaps, the water contained chemicals which were causing her to hallucinate. Either way, she was thankful to finally be in her element again.

  Chapter 19: The Impending Deluge

  Hamnil would soon be leaving Lake Vostok for several months.

  Aazuria was not sure how she felt about this. Their living arrangement had become almost tolerable once he had allowed her the freedom to go for swims on her own. All she had needed was that private space. Her mental notes had dwindled in number as she had grown less apprehensive. Sometimes, when she sat down to eat with Hamnil, she even felt comfortable. She felt as though she might be speaking to her cousin Naclana, or any man in her army, not a monster who had abducted her. There were moments when he lost his cool, but otherwise he was surprisingly civil. She did her best not to provoke him.

  Loneliness was freedom and bliss. She often spent hours doing laps around the lake, engaging in strenuous training exercises, and exploring all the new forms of sea life which existed down below. It was magical, and she regretted that it must be that most of her discoveries of new and marvelous creatures often were followed by discoveries of new and delicious meals. Survival still trumped science in this desolate situation, but she tried to take in moderation. She tried to hunt only what she needed.

  It was impossible not to think of Trevain during her private swims. He was the sacred thought which she clung to. With every small creature she discovered, she thought of him. She imagined how he would interpret each life form, and she imagined the expressions of sincere wonder on his face. Everything had held such meaning to her gentle husband. She knew that he was incapable of harming a fly, and he would probably disapprove of her digestion of nature’s finest treasures in a manner that was less than intellectual. Her excuse would have to be that he had made her pregnant, and she was hungry. Very hungry. Too hungry to continue eating out of cans.

  She recalled the way Trevain had been so passio
nate even about small plants and mushrooms. She would often place her hands on her stomach as she longed for him. Would she ever get the chance to see him again? Would her daughter ever meet him? The questions were endless. She could remember every single word he had ever spoken to her. They floated through her head on repeat, when triggered by random stimuli. The sound of his voice was so clear in her memory, as if he were speaking right beside her. It often brought tears to her eyes.

  Sometimes she would repeat these words out loud as she swam around the lake, having full monologue-like conversations with her daughter. She would tell Varia all about her father, and all about how much she missed him. She supposed that this was what love was. Not being able to free the other person from your mind, even when you were at different polar ice caps. Part of the reason she had needed to spend time alone was so that she could spend time thinking about Trevain.

  She sometimes tried to convince Varia that even if they were never freed from Lake Vostok, she would be happy to live out her days there with her daughter. There was enough food in the lake to sustain them for a lifetime if she needed to kill the prince for any reason. Living life under a glacier was not the life she had imagined for her child, but it was something. Any life was better than no life at all.

  She realized with dismay that her stomach was beginning to show, and she was becoming very fearful and anxious of what the prince would say or do to her when he found out that she was with child. Spending more time in the water had delayed the progression of her pregnancy, but it was still progressing. He had been relatively kind so far, but Aazuria knew that there were certain types of people who enjoyed harming pregnant or elderly woman. Seeing vulnerability, even perceived physical vulnerability, could bring out the violence in an insecure person. Considering that Prince Zalcan Hamnil had killed her youngest sister, she would not allow herself to expect a favorable reaction. She had been keeping up with her exercises and growing constantly stronger while the prince lazed about. She believed that she could easily defend herself, but she would prefer not to have that need. Especially if she was a new mother, she would be tired. There would be moments when she would need to sleep. She could not bear the thought that Zalcan Hamnil could harm her child while she was sleeping.

  More than anything, she wanted to give birth to Varia during the months he was away. She would be at her most vulnerable during the moments of her labor, and if she could not have the professional assistance of a midwife, she would much prefer not to have the malicious spectating of an enemy.

  A plot was beginning to form in her mind. She had only a limited window of time for it to work. August was the last possible acceptable month to take action. The thought of what she would have to do sickened her, but there was no other solution which she could conceive. She smiled at the thought. Conceive, she thought to herself sardonically.

  Prince Zalcan Hamnil needed to believe that her child was his. He needed to think that he was the father. It was simple, and not foolproof, for she knew better than most that even blood fathers could abuse their offspring. But if she could manipulate him into believing this, it would provide a thin layer of protection for her daughter. That was all that mattered.

  If she had any alcohol, she could have gotten him drunk and made him believe that they had slept together. But sadly, there was no alcohol in the cabin. There was nothing that she could make alcohol from. She would have to do this the old-fashioned way. She was sure that Trevain would forgive her. She would tell him, of course, if she ever got home to him. She would tell him straightaway and come clean, and she was sure that he would understand.

  When making the decision, she asked herself the magic question. “What would Viso do?” It was simple and clear; Visola would have done anything it took to protect her daughter. Having learned a valuable lesson about preemptive defense, Aazuria begrudgingly set her plan into motion.

  Pulling on his hand, she led him out into the dark water. He seemed pleasantly curious about the surprise she had prepared for him. She smiled as she waited for both of their eyes to adjust. She intended to seduce him in the only way she knew; she would dance. It had never failed her before. Of course, there was the matter of him preferring boys, but Aazuria felt that she could temporarily bypass that complication.

  All she needed was a single moment to concretize her lie. Aazuria was not an experienced liar, but she believed she could improvise now that it was necessary. She had several advantages which could work in her favor. There was the fact that she and the prince had been cloistered away together from the rest of humanity for three whole months. Surely he was starving for any kind of flesh; male or female.

  Also, he did seem to hold her in some kind of higher regard. He had treated her with much more kindness than she recalled Visola mentioning in her stories. Had Visola been exaggerating? It seemed implausible to her that this feminine boy would be foolish enough to try and rape Visola. But then, the ghastly scars on his face were telling evidence of how that story ended. Aazuria was certain that the prince was also blind in one eye. Seeing how damaged and deformed his face was made her wonder how he had survived Vachlan’s onslaught at all. Vachlan made lots of mistakes, but usually they did not involve not killing someone.

  Maybe Hamnil had learned his lesson. But then, the scars were still fresh. Aazuria could not risk that the lesson would fade with the scars. And there was no Vachlan or Trevain around to protect her, as convenient as that would have been. Yes, at this point she would have gladly accepted even Vachlan’s help. There were enemies, and then there were enemies. Vachlan was the kind she hated and loved at the same time. Zalcan Hamnil was the kind whose death she fantasized about at least once per hour, even when he was at the pinnacle of geniality.

  And she was about to sleep with him. She gestured for him to remain where he was before she grasped two long strands of glowing, seaweed-like objects in her hands. In Lake Vostok, many of the plants and creatures had evolved a natural phosphorescence to combat the pitch darkness of the enclosure. She smiled at him with a theatrical seductiveness before she began to alternate slowly circling her hands before her body, in a gesture of both giving and supplication.

  She moved her hands directly up into the air as she slowly spun in the water, causing the seaweed to billow out around her in spirals, like the ribbons of a gymnast. She felt as though she was beginning to weave a spell, and by the look in his eyes, she was.

  She was trained in this art-form to have her every movement fortified by the highest aesthetic qualities, and no man or woman or relatively humanoid being could watch without feeling some kind of emotion. To some extent that emotion could be a psychological reaction—an effect of the person imagining their own body engaged in the same motions, and feeling the hormones and adrenaline released as if they were the one dancing. Any emotion, any powerful feeling was easily mistaken for love.

  Especially when someone was as confused and vulnerable as Zalcan Hamnil was in his current state. Reactions to her dancing were always different, but when there was only one person watching, Aazuria could tweak her dance to satisfy the light in his eyes. She missed music, and she longed to hear the sound of her sister’s voice in song, but she used the opportunity to tailor her dance to the dark music which emanated from Hamnil’s aura.

  As her strength had been growing, she had been paying careful attention to her flexibility as well. The result was that Aazuria’s body was at the highest level of fitness it had ever been in her life. This was despite being pregnant and held in captivity, and also perhaps because of being pregnant and held in captivity. Her muscle tone had developed exponentially, although Hamnil had not noticed any visible difference; if he ever did see more definition in her thin arms, he probably chalked it up to the change in diet. Her body was still as lean and slender as it was before, but to the touch she was rock hard.

  She had been stronger than average before, but now she was at her personal zenith. Now was the time to take action, while the juices of motivation flowed throu
gh her, carefully cultivated by her mental discipline. Although she was held captive in the most foolproof prison imaginable, when she danced she still felt free. She danced in homage to the freedom of her spirit that no other could ever compromise. She danced in a daring defiance to her watching captor, although he would not understand her meaning.

  He would not understand that as she extended her fingertips outward in a motion of gentleness and grace, her heart was filled with the yearning to place those fingers around his neck and gracefully crush his trachea and rob him of the ability to ever breathe again. He would not understand that as she curved her spine and inclined her head in a posture of modesty and submission, she was completely assured that someday she would best her captor and seize back her life from his hands. The faith and conviction coursed through her veins like a potent steroid. Her head spun with power; she could access and grip the small drizzle she currently possessed, and sense the impending deluge she would surely soon have.

  “Is this magic?” Hamnil asked with his hands as he approached her. “I believe you have cured me.”

  When the man grasped her shoulders to interrupt her dance, she greeted him with an expression of gladness. Much of her life was spent feeling the true weight of her vast years of existence. But not now—in this moment she felt the way she looked. She felt the youth and joy of her body and not the burden of her mind. Of course, she was sure that he was not ‘cured’ but she still smiled at her success in affecting him. She lifted her hands to respond.

  “When you spend tens of thousands of hours practicing an art; when you grow to love it so much that you would perform alone, before others, and under any circumstance, however dire… of course it becomes magic. Anything one truly loves is magic—we breathe life into inanimate objects, infusing them with our souls. We can transform the world with the colors of song and dance… we can even create our own worlds. How can that possibly be anything short of magic? Our breath is divine and its power is limitless.”