by Chris Howard
—Michael Henderson, conversation with the Wreath-wearer
* * * *
Aleximor caught Corina by the arm and spun her around to face him, his long black hair like bands of seaweed ink curling around his face and neck.
"Ruinous untrusting bitch."
Corina saw her captor's face for the first time, clear, up close, chalky white with bruised purpling around his cold eyes. His teeth were yellow, pointed, a monster's smile spreading on his lips.
"You are mine. Do not forget that."
The roaring black current caught them both and threw them into the wedge cut into the cliff face, and Corina jerked her body to one side to shift their weight. She landed on top him, sliding across the cave floor, slamming into the back wall.
Aleximor, his body blazing white, shoved her off him, springing to his feet, her wrist gripped in one strong fist. She turned, jerking away, breaking his hold. Squinting against the glare, she sprang at him, and brought the Wreath-wearer's knife around, cutting into his throat.
The blade caught on something in his neck, then cut completely through.
His head flew back, eyes wide, mouth locked open in surprise. He released her wrist, kicked away. Corina dropped the knife and lunged at him, blood gushing over her hands. She found a song somewhere deep in her soul, a song she had heard Aleximor sing many times.
Corina reached up, and closed her hand over Aleximor's open throat as if trying to stanch the flow. His eyes pitched back in his head. A thick red cloud pumped through her fingers.
The light died in the cave. The blaze of captured souls went dim, and the blood on her hands roiled and glowed like lava.
She pulled away from him, spun to the clear area on the cave wall, and slapped her open hand hard and flat against the unyielding surface.
She closed her eyes. Her body went cold, her arm numb, and the thing that was inside her—Aleximor on the cave floor—went screaming into the earth, into the wall in the solid world she had created inside her soul.
Her body shaking, Corina lifted her hand away and stared at the blood print on the cave wall, a woman's hand, blurred between the fingers.
Corina Lairsey rubbed her hands together, sobbing softly. She turned and swam up through the Pacific and into her own senses, her own body, commanding every piece of ground and every instant of time in her soul.
Then she was ... back at the battle. She blinked to make sure she was awake, and her mouth dropped open. Aleximor's army of the dead surrounded her, spears thrust out. Beyond them was a one-armed monster the size of an apartment building circling her, teeth bared, roaring at the living soldiers of Kassandra's army. The battle noise was deafening, and the bright star the Wreath-wearer had conjured burned and blinded her.
They're going to kill me!
She raised a hand, and she knew what to do. She sang a short command, and her army of the dead froze.
"Analabe to doru!"
Panic drove through her for a moment at the thought that she might not be able to control them.
Each dead soldier in the army of thousands shifted his long spear to one bony hand, standing it on end, straight up.
The ocean went silent.
The Rexenor army eased back, spears out, orcas reined in, but ready to charge. Corina looked around, paddling slowly. They were waiting for her.
"I...” Her voice sounded tiny. “I am back ... inside, I mean. My name is Corina Lairsey. I'm from California. Aleximor was inside me, controlling me, but I have imprisoned him."
A young woman with short black braids kicked to the giant demon's hand.
"Lady Nikoletta,” said the huge demon warily. He still wasn't going to let Nicole near the pale woman.
She bowed to it, and then looked down at Corina.
"What have you done to the Wreath-wearer?"
"I didn't do anything.” She pointed to herself. “It was him, Aleximor, doing it. Did it. I didn't—"
Nicole pointed her sword at her. “Bring her back!” She turned to another group of soldiers swimming up. “Father? Kassandra's not..."
A stream of inky black blossomed in the ocean next to Corina, soft velvet petals unfolding, curling around itself. Corina kicked back in fear, running into a rotting soldier and knocking his spear loose.
Kassandra swam through the ink and it flowed away in the currents behind her. She wasn't wearing the Wreath, but a blazing white crown, and she held a man in her arms.
She glanced around, taking in the stand-down and tensions between the two armies, making assumptions about the situation. She looked at Corina and gave her a clever smile.
"Where in California are you from?"
"Uh ... Co—Coyote. South of San Jos?."
Kassandra fixed her gaze on her for a minute. “Can I get you to withdraw the army of the ostologos?"
Corina nodded and turned to shout orders at the dead.
The Rexenor army positioned itself around Kassandra, closing ranks, to hear—over the murmurs of guesses—of the return of the Wreath-wearer and the man she held in her arms. The brilliant glow around her head was no longer a twining of seaweed, but an actual crown that looked as if it was made of ice.
Kassandra spun slowly in the water. “Where are you, Father?"
Gregor pulled off his helmet and swam up with Michael Henderson. Jill was right behind them, dragging Zypheria.
"Stand with me, Dad. I have a couple things to say to all of Rexenor.” Kassandra swam higher in the water, dropping her feet on Ochleros’ shoulder, leaning her elbow on his ear.
"House Rexenor, you have defeated the army of the King of all the Seaborn.” She spoke right over their cheering, and it dried up like a desert. “But this is a sad day for our house. We have lost our Lady."
She waited while the rush of whispering flowed and ebbed. “I would tell you something. It is not something we normally speak of.” She laughed grimly. “But what does a surfacer know of Seaborn etiquette?"
"What do bloody Rexenors know of it?” Someone shouted and there was a murmur of agreement.
Her lips sharpened at the corners. “I have Lady Kallixene's bleed.” She glanced down in time to see Gregor's mouth drop open. Behind him, Michael Henderson was sobbing and he had no intention of hiding it.
"I felt the rush of her bleed during our battle. She gave me ... everything. She created me, made me what I am. I would not be here without Lady Kallixene. In return, I promised her—and I promise you—that I will bring House Rexenor home, that we will again be honored in the Nine-cities."
They waited because she obviously had more to say. Her crown was blindingly bright. There was a dead man draped in her arms—and she hadn't said anything about him yet.
"I made another promise, just a little while ago, that I would bring the body of my friend, Strates Unwinder, home to his House."
Gregor's mouth opened wider, and Kassandra handed over Strates’ body to him.
"I went beyond the door of fire, into the halls of the Sea's ruler, and I have returned. I found Strates Unwinder there, waiting many years to perform one final task before returning home to Rexenor."
She stopped there, closing her mouth, not certain of how much she needed to share about Akast? and the throne of the Sea—or the new look of her crown.
She straightened and let her gaze take in the Rexenor army, then she bowed to them.
Jill rushed up, crying, “Kallixene's gone. I can't believe she's gone.” Even Nicole couldn't hold in her tears, her body shaking, and Kassandra threw her arms around both of them.
"I know,” she said softly. “Ephoros. Kallixene. I am cursed—cursed to have all who love me die for me."
Nicole sobbed louder, barely getting out the name, “Nereus."
Kassandra lifted her head. “Where is he?” She took in Nicole's expression of pain, but didn't understand it for a moment. Then the blood drained from her face. Her stomach lurched. She shook her head, lost. “But ... I need him to ... No!"
Nicole's pleading voice was like
sandpaper on her nerves. “Kass, he thought you were dead. Thought you weren't coming back. I told him ... I told him you always leave, you never say goodbye, you always come back. I couldn't stop him, charging by himself into the army."
Kassandra pushed her sisters away, kicking into clear water above Ochleros. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't stop them. Her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest.
Don't let it take hold of you! It was her mother's panicked shriek.
Kassandra ignored her. Enraged, she threw back her head and screamed.
The Rexenor army shoved their hands against their ears. The dead stopped in their tracks. The temperature of the sea dropped, and the brilliant star she had had summoned during the battle burst, oozing white trails of hot light, cooling to black as they fell into the abyss.
And the sea went dark.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The New Army
"Glaukos, look: waves are troubling the deep sea."
—Archilochus, “Fragment 103"
* * * *
Kassandra smiled wearily at Nicole and Jill seated at dinner across the wide table. Both of them waved back, eager to swim over and ask her about going through the line of fire and finding Strates Unwinder—and her new crown. Every moment of time since the battle had been filled with audiences, formal dinners, healing Ochleros, and mourning Nereus and Lady Kallixene—and no time for questions or answers.
Gregor was now Lord of Rexenor, and Kassandra would sit in assembly with him, judging grievances and helping with administration tasks. She had hardly seen her sisters over the last two days, spending a lot of time with Corina and Aleximor's army of the dead. Zypheria, on the other hand, would not leave Corina alone.
"Will you give it a rest?” Kassandra gave Zypheria an annoyed shove.
Zypheria bowed her head with a quick glance, tapping the hilt of her sword, her focus sliding right back to Corina.
She hadn't left Kassandra's side since the battle's end, making bitter remarks to Corina through the night and the next morning. “You may have fooled Lady Kassandra. Tell me something that will earn my trust."
Kassandra turned to Zypheria hovering next to her chair in the dining hall. “What are you doing?"
Zypheria bowed. “Milady. Please. Not until we are certain that she really is the surfacer, Corina Lairsey. How do we know the bone-gatherer is not playing a part, biding his time?"
"Because I climbed inside her soul. I have seen with my own eyes the binding that holds him."
Zypheria didn't move.
Kassandra placed her hand on Zypheria's arm. “She has given me an army—an army of the dead. They are bound to me, not her. Three thousand remain of Aleximor's five thousand. A fitting number, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed.” She nodded stiffly.
Kassandra turned to Corina, who didn't appear to be enjoying the meal. “She can't eat with you hovering, Zyph."
"It's not that,” said Corina, looking up at the tiled ceiling of the dining hall.
Kassandra looked straight up, her brow wrinkling, her gaze appearing to go through the ceiling into ocean above. “It's around lunch time in New Hampshire."
"Lunch,” Corina gasped the word, pushing away her food. “I feel hollow, emptied out. I want a cup of coffee so bad."
Kassandra smiled sadly and squeezed Zypheria's arm. “Would the bone-gatherer want coffee?"
"I'm so hungry, and I—except for on the ship, he ate nothing but raw fish. I can't go home—at least not yet—he did something to me. I'm not even sure I'm living—that I am alive anymore. He gave so much of me away. But I want to go back up there.” Corina looked up.
"To the surface,” said Kassandra helpfully.
"The surface,” Corina whispered as if it were a magical place. “God, what I'd give for a bagel or spaghetti or Thai food or a nice thick peanut butter and jelly sandwich on toasted sliced sourdough bread."
A sad smile appeared on Kassandra's face, and Zypheria pounded her fist on the end of her sword, disappointed.
"Good enough for you?"
"Milady,” said Zypheria sourly, nodded to Corina, and swam off.
Kassandra turned to her sisters, bowed her head to them, and then waved them over.
* * * *
The next day Kassandra summoned House Rexenor to an assembly in order to deal with the three hundred and eighty-four prisoners from the king's army, captured after the battle.
The vast arena, open to the black heavens, was booming with noise. Every Rexenor able to swim—including children—turning out to see the Wreath-wearer who had used real fire magic in the battle—to see someone more damned than themselves.
The hall went silent when Kassandra swam into open water with her father, the Lord of Rexenor, in his formal brocaded tunic with the black seabird on his chest, a thin gold band on his brow. She was dressed plainly, a long-sleeved top and tight black leggings. No jewelry, no armor, no weapons. Just her blinding white crown.
Kassandra turned and called her sisters to her side, Nicole on her right and Jill on her left. “I am going to introduce you. Do not be afraid,” she said softly, taking their hands, squeezing tight. “When everyone else is afraid, you will not be."
"Your hands are so cold.” Jill let the words drift from her lips, barely audible, looking from Kassandra's crown to her fingers.
"It is yours that are warm."
Nicole squeezed back. “What happened? On the other side of the fire? It's like you're older. You're not the same Kassandra. You're different."
Kassandra turned, her face expressionless. “I was given something—armor, weapons, new enemies. I'll show you some of it in a moment. The rest we'll speak of another time. Today ... today I want everyone here to know who I am and who my sisters are."
She released their hands and they kicked higher, Kassandra waving at her guard.
"Bring them before me."
The prisoners kicked into the arena, ringed by Rexenors on orcas with lances down. Half of the three hundred and eighty-four were wounded on litters borne by those with less debilitating injuries.
Kassandra kicked a little higher. She let a minute slip by as if turning something over in her thoughts, pausing over a decision.
"Do you know who I am?” Her voice cut through the water, clear and icy.
The prisoners stared at her crown—or tried to. They knew the rumors of the woman from the surface who would destroy them all.
They were afraid to move.
"You do not have to fear speaking to me. I have released you without ransom or any other condition."
That was news to the Rexenors. The noise of a thousand voices talking at once spun through the hall, and Kassandra raised her hand to quiet House Rexenor.
"I have released you. You are free to return to your homes. I just wanted you to know who I am before you go."
"You are the Wreath-wearer named Kassandra,” said one defiant old soldier in Dosianax armor, his head bandaged and his arm broken.
Two Rexenor guards looked to her for a command, something to punish the Dosianax for not using the right tone. She waved them back.
"Very good, kinsman. But I want to give you a clear message that you can take home with you.” She paused and she felt every eye in the room on her. The silence was complete.
Kassandra closed her eyes, lids fluttering against an inner strain. The crab carapace armor slipped around her body, knobby and purple, bleeding red into white around the sharp edges at her shoulders. Her fist tightened around the trident, cold and metal, somehow floating, weightless, and at the same time as heavy as the world in her hand.
She opened her eyes and every current in the water stilled, every heart in the room paused between beats. The orcas closed their eyes. The column of water that held her, miles from the ocean floor to the surface, went perfectly still, and sunlight passed through it, a white bar of radiance that shimmered around Kassandra, Jill and Nicole.
Her
voice was soft, the roll of clear seawater on time-smoothed sand.
"I have two sisters."
She turned to her left. “Jill is my voice above the waves, brilliant as Helios, true and far-ranging as any tide, the moon in the night sky."
Jill floated behind Kassandra, wanting to curl inside herself, but froze in the water, something firm inside her keeping her back straight. Nicole glanced over and winked, and the fear melted away. Jill smiled and looked down at the staring faces of the Seaborn.
Then Kassandra turned to Nicole, indicating her with a push of her fist with the trident.
"Nicole is ... my right hand, storm bright, unyielding current of the deep...” Kassandra stopped as if she had more to say, but after a quick shuffle of thoughts, had decided that she had said enough.
She lifted the trident above her head and continued in the same quiet tone.
"I am Kassandra Alkimides. I am the daughter of Gregor Lord Rexenor and Lady Ampharete of Alkimides. I am the granddaughter of Tharsaleos of Dosianax and Queen Pythias of Alkimides.” She held up her left hand, spread her fingers, showing them the scar tissue lining each. “Your king had the webbing cut from my hands when I was an infant. I grew up a slave—with the Porthmeus surname—as far from the nurturing sea as your king could arrange. But I have broken my bonds. I have returned to the deep. I have five bleeds, including two coming from your own king. I play with fire in the abyss. I am the chosen of Lord Poseidon. I was the Wreath-wearer. I am the Sea."
She nodded to her guards to let the prisoners go.
In a softer voice that still carried like the tide through the vast hall, she said, “We will all meet again soon, and I would like you to remember me—and my sisters—when you decide whose side you are on."
-The End-
* * *
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