Ignoring this completely, Sionna picked up her napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth. “For a few hours, it emulates our adaptation.”
The large bald man froze. “It emulates your…”
“Did I stutter?” Sionna asked, returning her napkin to her lap. She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at the man. “For a few hours after ingesting this serum, a land-dweller is capable of breathing underwater, similar to our people. Obviously, it doesn’t recreate every advantage of Homo sapiens marinus, but the most essential…”
“That’s impossible,” Marshal Landou said briskly. “It can’t be done.”
Sionna cocked her head to the side. “That’s true. But I did it anyway.”
The bald man sitting across from her stared without blinking for several seconds. Finally, he tossed the remaining contents of his wine glass down his throat. “What in God’s name prompted you to create such a thing?”
“It was an accident really; a personal project for a family member. As you know, a few years ago, the king’s brother had a daughter who was unable to breathe underwater. At first this was fine, and Callder and Brynne kept her mostly in Upper Adlivun. As she grew older, around her sixth birthday, she began to express her wishes to swim below and started sneaking away to… well, it’s not important.” Sionna shook her head. “Basically, I solved the problem. I have discussed the other possible applications with my sister, and we concluded that the primary use for such a serum should be national defense.”
“Yes,” Marshal Landou said quickly, “definitely defense. You must keep this confidential and tell no one else.”
“Obviously,” Sionna said, swirling her fork aimlessly in her mashed potatoes. “We’re not stupid. We could use this serum to explode the tourism industry, or even to explode our populace, but we are already seeing a decline in the birthrate of humans capable of breathing underwater. It’s more important to us that we preserve our natural abilities. We want to protect our culture and heritage as much as possible, and avoid assimilating too much with Americans.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to assimilate with you.”
Sionna’s fingers lightly pressed against the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Visola warned me you would say such things. Therefore, I am only repulsed and not surprised. I believe most of the power of any feeling is in the surprise, and I try to avoid being surprised to avoid having feelings. Do you have anything to say about my serum?”
Landou cleared his throat. “So, this substance gives human lungs the ability…”
“To produce an enzyme which catalyzes the extraction of oxygen from water.”
“I see,” the man replied, pouring more wine into his glass hastily. “Well, I’ll have to consult with some of my officers and see if this can benefit us.”
“Of course it can benefit you,” Sionna said with a frown.
“Yes, yes, but you know, there could be a really huge market for this outside the military. Are you sure you’re not interested in pursuing the commercial options?”
“I’m well aware of the potential market,” Sionna said in a low voice, leaning forward. Her green eyes hardened as they locked with his. “Do you want to do business with me or not, Marshal Landou?”
The man stared motionlessly. Finally, a slow smile overtook his face. “Please. Call me Gaston.”
A soldier grasped a brunette’s slender forearm, yanking her roughly through the inhospitable hallways of a rundown ship. He did not notice that the pale flesh did not yield under his grip, but instead remained rigid as rock. It was only the small size of the woman’s physique that he registered, not its solid quality, as he continued to drag her through the narrow corridor. When he reached the door number inscribed on her bracelet, he wrenched her wrist up to his eye level to confirm the numbers. He nodded, shifting his eyes to his captive’s face, which was mostly shielded by plain brown locks. He barked at the woman harshly.
“Employee number Five-Nine-Zero-Seven-Three! Stay in your cabin. This is your final warning!” The soldier used his left hand to swing the thin panel of wood open, and shoved the woman roughly forward onto the floor. Her head slammed against the wall of other side of the small cabin before she crumpled to the ground. There was contempt on her face, but she did not turn to look at the soldier in the doorway until she heard him close the door and turn the lock. Once she heard footsteps, her chin slowly swiveled so that her blue eyes could burn through the flimsy door.
“Employee indeed,” she said.
“Mama,” whispered a small voice. The woman’s head snapped to the right to observe the small girl huddled on the narrow wooden bed. “Why did you let him hurt you?”
Aazuria briskly lifted herself from the ground and rushed over to the disappointing piece of furniture. Planting herself beside her daughter, she swept the child up into her arms. The makeshift bed creaked under her as she hugged the girl against her chest. “Trust me, darling. We can learn more from lurking in the shadows as faceless nobodies. If we revealed ourselves now, we would never know the truth of what is happening in Adlivun. For if your father knew, he would not allow this to continue. Trevain would surely...”
Drawing a ragged sigh, Aazuria reached up to unclip and remove the drab brown wig from her head. Her own long white locks tumbled down her back, blanched from lack of sunlight. She used her fingers to gently feel her eyebrows, which were irritated from waterproof makeup. They had been darkened to match her wig and were now rather itchy. Tossing the wig to the floor, Aazuria lowered herself to the rickety bed, curling up beside her daughter on the thin mattress. A giant yawn escaped her lips.
“You were gone for sixteen hours, Mother,” Varia said, frowning down at the tired woman. “Did you work very hard?”
“They forced me to do a double-shift,” Aazuria explained as her eyelids glided closed. “We were working on fortifying the foundations of the bridge deep underwater. It was taxing—they shot a man when he tried to leave.”
“Are they allowed to do that?” Varia asked.
Aazuria shook her head. “According to the treaty, each citizen is only required to work for forty hours a week—but everywhere I go, they are violating the terms to abuse our people. Look at these living conditions. Adlivun was built with echoes of sixteenth century grandeur. Now our people are holed up in tiny cabins of rundown slave-ships. This brig is the worst kind of hovel, and I do believe there are fleas in this mattress.”
Varia twitched, looking down at the bedding suspiciously. She clenched her tiny fists, intending to strike the bed to pummel the fleas into oblivion, but changed her mind when she realized that a strike would collapse the bed altogether. She sighed in defeat, allowing the fleas a temporary victory. “At least when we were held captive in Lake Vostok, we weren’t separated for most of the day! Now I only get to see you when you’re sleeping. The rest of the day you’re being worked to the bone. This is worse, Mother. This is far worse than before.”
“I know, dear.” Aazuria sighed and reached out to pull her daughter down beside her. She cuddled the little girl as if she were a teddy bear. “I promise I won’t submit you to this for very much longer. This is not the way that any child should be raised, least of all you.”
Her mother’s soothing words seemed to placate Varia, but the girl soon grew restless. “Mama, I learned more every day when we were stuck in Antarctica, just the two of us. Now I’m surrounded by the other children in the classroom all the time, but no one teaches me anything. It’s so boring.”
Aazuria’s eyes opened and she was suddenly wide awake. “Are there not teachers?”
“They do nothing. The kids just goof around all day,” Varia explained, “and everyone hates me, because I just ignore them and spend all day reading.”
“I was told you would receive a decent education! This upsets me,” Aazuria said, shaking her head, “more than anything else I’ve heard so far. If the children of the bridge workers aren’t being properly educated, what does this mean for the future of
Adlivun? It is impossible that my sister knows of this; Elandria would not have allowed our country to deteriorate this way!”
“You can change it, can’t you, Mother?”
“Yes,” Aazuria answered, “but not all at once. I can’t undo ten years of deterioration in a single breath. First of all, I need to get you out of this place. You need to be somewhere safe while I stay here and collect more information.”
“You want to separate us?” Varia asked hesitantly.
“I’m sure that they still teach the children properly and privately at the palace. I know that Brynne has a young daughter, and Princess Yamako of the Ningyo people has a small son. I do not know their names or ages, but I am positive that there is some kind of special school for Adlivun’s elite, probably run by my sister.”
Varia swallowed. “Mother, please. I’ve never been separated from you for more than sixteen hours. Today was the longest ever. Why can’t we both go to live in the palace? You won’t have to work long hours and get abused by the soldiers, and it will be better for both of us.”
“Darling, we mustn’t only be concerned about ourselves. It is very easy to seek our own comfort, but we have the power to make things better for everyone else as well.”
“Why should they be our responsibility?” Varia asked with a frown.
“Because a crown was placed on my head and I promised to devote my life to this country,” Aazuria explained.
“But they abandoned you in the South-lands when you were kidnapped!”
“Just because someone abandons you, does not mean you have the right to abandon them,” Aazuria said softly, staring into Varia’s different-colored eyes in the dark. One iris was deepest azure blue, like her own, while the other was Ramaris green, like her father’s. Aazuria’s mind drifted to the image of Trevain’s face, her thoughts lingering on the sound of his voice as she remained silent for several seconds. When she realized her lapse, she cleared her throat brusquely to chase the debilitating emotions away. “At any rate, I am sure they didn’t abandon me. They searched as much as they could, and no one could have known I was being held prisoner in Lake Vostok. We cannot blame them—you must not resent your father for what he has done.”
“He betrayed you,” Varia said doubtfully. “Why should you suffer more while he lives in the big ice palace? It’s not fair.”
Aazuria kissed her daughter’s forehead gently. “Varia, I could swim back into the castle at any time and reclaim my throne. I would be accepted with open arms and plenty of apologies and tears. Believe me—I want to do this so badly it feels like my chest is going to burst.” She paused, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “But that would be the easiest thing to do. In most cases, drifting along with warm gentle currents is not the worthiest course of action; more can be gained by fighting our way upstream.”
Varia nodded solemnly.
“Our anonymity is our greatest asset,” Aazuria said firmly. “We must take advantage of it while it lasts.”
“Anon… nymity,” Varia repeated, stumbling over the syllables.
“Yes, dear.”
Varia remained very still in the dark cabin, listening to the sound of her mother’s breathing. She could always sense what her mother was feeling by determining the intervals between and velocity of each gust expelled from her lungs. “Is there another reason we are hiding here?” Varia asked softly. “Why does it seem to me that you are afraid, Mother?”
Aazuria pulled away slightly to regard her eight-year-old with surprise. “You are a very bright girl, Varia. Be careful with that brain of yours or you will get yourself into trouble.”
“Now you’re avoiding the question!” Varia said with a laugh. “Are you scared to go back to the palace, Mother?”
“Yes,” Aazuria answered truthfully. “I would rather face a hundred-thousand of Zalcan’s warriors on the field, or sea as it may be, of battle, than see my husband or my sister again.”
“Because it will hurt them?” Varia asked.
“It will ruin their lives,” she responded. “I love them both, and I do not want to cause them pain.”
“But he was your husband first! I don’t understand,” Varia said in frustration. “I just never understand anything lately.”
“You will, dearest.” Aazuria squeezed her daughter’s hand reassuringly, before turning to face the door. She was lying on the bed so that her body was between Varia’s and the doorway—a defensive habit she had picked up during previous captivity. She closed her eyes and gave light slumber the permission to overcome her, but it was interrupted by the little ball of energy behind her. Aazuria could feel her daughter’s lively curiosity buzzing in the room like a swarm of fireflies. Although she was exhausted, she could hardly sleep in the presence of such thirst. Turning back to the girl, she propped herself up onto her elbow and smiled at her daughter in the dark. “Okay, Varia. What have you been reading about?”
“I don’t want to keep you awake,” Varia responded hesitantly. “You’ve been working so hard.”
Aazuria ignored her protest. “What do you want to talk about tonight?”
“Well, I was reading about the history of Adlivun, and some of the information in the books is different from what you told me before. Did King Kyrosed really take the throne in the year 1590?”
“No,” Aazuria responded. “That was when we migrated to the Bering Strait. That was the founding of the new nation of Adlivun here in the Aleutian Islands, but long before that, my father ruled over an old kingdom off the coast of Norway.”
“Was he really as mean as the books say?” Varia asked. “Did he really… die the way the books say?”
“Yes,” Aazuria answered quietly. This was not a conversation she was prepared to have with her daughter; but then, Varia had already witnessed her kill a man once. She swallowed. “He was meaner than any book can describe—but he was kind to me. He might have been a good grandfather, if you could have met him.”
“Tell me more about the Nordic seas!” Varia said, nestling against her mother’s side.
Aazuria smiled and closed her eyes. “Well, when I was just a little older than you, we were being raided by the French nation of Ker-ys. It was a dangerous time, and Papa decided that I needed protection. He chose two fierce, red-haired warriors to be my defenders…”
Chapter 2: Transforming Helpless Ducklings
“A hundred-thousand men!” Visola shouted as she slammed a brawny warrior into the ground. She straddled his back and twisted his arm behind him until he screamed in pain. Grinning up at the scattering of her elite forces, she lifted her eyebrows to indicate that this was the technique she wanted them to practice. The soldiers were gathered for training in a waterless cave, deep in the tunnels of Lower Adlivun. Visola reached up to brush some wayward red wisps away from her eyes, and continued to lecture them as she shifted her body and helped the overpowered warrior to his feet. “The Clan of Zalcan commands an army a hundred-thousand strong. That’s according to recent reports from our men on the inside. The whole force isn’t stationed at their home base in the Maldives—they’re divided, oppressing various foreign undersea cities. Some of the warriors are positioned strategically rather close to us, among the Rusalka, and even in the ruins of Shiretoko. You there!”
The young man to whom Visola had pointed straightened and struck his fist to his chest in the traditional Adluvian salute. “Yes, Gen—General Ramaris?”
She studied his small, wincing features and heard the Japanese accent in his stuttering voice. He expected her to assault him; she moved forward, intending to do precisely that, but not in the way he anticipated. “You were in the city of Shiretoko when the Clan attacked?” Visola demanded. When the young man nodded, she frowned. “How did you escape, Takeshi?”
“I—I ran, General Ramaris,” he said, with downcast eyes. A furious blush transformed his features.
“Mhm. So how do you feel about that?” she asked, moving to stand mere inches from the man’s face, and allowing
her hot breath to waft over his reddened skin. Visola towered over the small warrior at six feet tall, her voluminous red hair adding several extra inches of unnecessary menace.
“Pathetic,” Takeshi answered weakly. “It was the ultimate dishonor, General Ramaris. They took my family along with most of the Ningyo people, but I didn’t fight. I left my mother and my sisters and swam for the mainland to save my own skin. I swam, I ran, and I swam some more until I was safe.”
Visola turned to the other fighters in the room, observing their faces for the slightest hint of humor or mockery. None of the other men dared to laugh. This pleased the general, for she would have harshly disciplined anyone who sought to make fun of a war refugee. “This time we won’t run,” she said in a low tone. “Those brutes killed my best friend, and I will never let that go. There never was, and never will be anyone like Aazuria Vellamo.” Remaining quiet for a moment, Visola’s red eyelashes lowered in fond memory of the former queen. She gave the Adluvian salute across her chest, and every warrior in the room followed suit, honoring the lost heroine.
“General Ramaris,” said an older soldier with a Caribbean accent. “Do you really believe that our protection from the Americans will soon be dissolved?”
“I can’t say for certain, Marsden,” she answered, “but we need to be prepared for every eventuality. Queen Amabie of the Ningyo has been training another secret faction of warriors, and we will soon test your skills against theirs. You boys had better not disappoint me—I’m betting money on you.”
“Clan Zalcan destroyed my country too,” he told her. “Bimini Empire was my birthplace, a glorious nation, but now all that remains is ghostly ruins and ridiculous rumors about the Bermuda Triangle. Like Takeshi here, I also ran. I ran and I lived. Since then I have called Adlivun home, learning to love a new country for over sixty years. I will never run again. No more running.”
Many of the warriors around him echoed these sentiments in a chorus, glancing at each other to strengthen their neighbor with their sense of communal resolve.
Sacred Breath Series (Books 1-4) Page 86
