Rise of the Sea Witch (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 1)

by Stacey Rourke

  Alastor cast his gaze to the tips of his tailfin that were tracing designs in the sandy floor. “I didn’t go to see the Harvest Moon,” he admitted, glancing up from under lush lashes. “It lost its appeal without my best friend there.”

  “I thought Triton was your best friend?” I ventured, screwing my lips to the side to suppress a smile.

  “I have to let him think that,” he deadpanned. “He’s actually quite emotionally fragile. Beneath the bumbling, happy-go-lucky façade beats the heart of a poet.”

  Simultaneously we erupted in snorts of laughter.

  “That boy is a ray of sunshine, and you two are merciless little beasts for poking fun of him,” Loriana scolded, the edge stripped from her tone by a hint of amusement. “Now then, Alastor tells me the queen took you as her apprentice! How exciting that must be! Tell us of your first training session!”

  Laughter dying on my lips, I flicked an anxious glance toward my arm. Keeping it tucked firmly to my side, only one corner of the angry red slash was visible.

  True to nature, Loriana missed nothing. Following my gaze, she sucked in a shocked breath. “Sakes alive! You’re wounded! Alastor, fetch the salve! Quick, now! I’ll get some bandages!”

  As she spoke, the shadows in the room began to elongate, wriggling and writhing into spectral shapes.

  “No!” Emphatically I shook my head, my headband slipping loose and falling around my neck like a noose. “I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. Don’t go!”

  One rogue tear slipped from my lashes, followed by another. In a sudden rash of hysterics, I dissolved in a fit of wailed, hopeless sobs.

  “There, there now,” Loriana soothed. Cloaking my quaking shoulders with one plump arm, she drew me to her. She smelled of sandalwood and water lilies; a comforting, maternal mix that eased my battered soul. Fingers combing through my hair, she paused to remove the headband lassoing my neck. “Nothing has been done that can’t be undone with a little patience and fortitude.”

  How wrong she was.

  Curling his tail under him, Alastor settled on the floor beside us. His gentle hand pressed tentatively to the bend of my fin, voice dropping to an uncertain quiver. “Mada, what can we do?” he asked, fear causing him to forget his place and use the mer slang for mother—a no-no in the presence of royals.

  Dotting a kiss to my forehead, Loriana held me in a snug embrace. “We will look out for her as we would want her to look out for us when she’s queen. And I truly believe with her pure heart, she will be.” Pulling away, she met my stare and swiped a tear away with the pad of her thumb. “Is there anything I can get for you, my dear? Something warm to drink before I turn down your bed, perhaps?”

  Risking a glance to the shadows, I noticed my metaphysical followers still lingered but had yet to solidify.

  “Please don’t go!” I pled, both my hands encircling her wrist. The spirits held back for some reason with the two of them there. I feared their departure would throw me to the mercy of every lingering wraith. “D-don’t leave me alone.”

  It was a sign of weakness Poseidon would have scoffed at, lifting his nose at such a pathetic display. Loriana, however, read the fright etched into my features with a mother’s compassion.

  Deep divots of concern sliced between her brows. “Alastor, swim to our room and retrieve my blankets. I shall accompany the princess in her quarters tonight.” Gently extracting one hand from mine, she tenderly pressed her palm to my cheek.

  Shoulders collapsing with grateful relief, I leaned in to her touch.

  Chapter Seven

  Six Years Later

  I ’ve walked on land. I’ve felt the earth squish beneath my feet and been assaulted by the nauseating onslaught of pungent odors that waft in on every breeze. I’ve sat shoulder to shoulder with strangers who seemed to have a distaste for water or cleanliness, and watched grown humans play make-believe as a form of entertainment for their audience. If my life in the three years that followed my partnering with Amphrite had been one such predictable satire, there would have been a musical montage of my training. It would have begun with me awkwardly bumbling through drills, and progressed—through a series of clever snippets—to reveal me as an exquisite, polished warrior by the end. Hours spent together would have bonded Amphrite and me in a deep and spiritual manner. My father and his Royal Guard would have witnessed how hard I was working and developed a sense of appreciation and respect for my efforts. The kingdom would have been frozen in a state of serenity, calmly awaiting the day a future ruler would be named.

  But this was no such parody.

  No jester stood on the side of a plank board stage cuing the good people of Atlantica when they were to applaud, laugh, or gasp in astonishment.

  This was real life, and real life was … messy.

  Our swords met in a rapid-fire succession of claps. Weaponry of the mer was truly beautiful to behold. The skulls of swordfish claimed by the sea were cleaned and polished. The eye sockets then removed, and the cheekbone whittled down to shield the user’s hand. The parietal bone was filed down and crafted into a hilt which perfectly fit the grip of the mer who would wield it. The swords had a touch of flexibility, but the raw potency nature provided trumped that of any man-made metal contraption.

  Parrying back, I allowed Triton to lunge in on the attack. With each of his strikes, I let the block of my weapon drop a hint lower, drawing his guard down without him realizing it. His last blow hit at waist-level, my counter landing a touch of the tip of my foil to the dead-center of his chest. Knocked off balance, he fell to the floor. The water clouded from the sand storm he kicked up.

  “My match.” While my voice came muffled from behind my walrus skull helmet, the smile it held was audible.

  The blast of a conch shell confirmed my win.

  Holstering my sword in the loop on my hip, I offered my brother a hand up. Tugging off his helmet, he dragged a hand through his golden sunshine locks. Beside the fencing arena, a school of his adoring admirers—Tritonites as I liked to call them—squealed and clapped their appreciation like a giddy pod of seals. Time, training, and his status as a prince had earned him his own little fan club. They viewed him as a sculpted god, especially since maturity struck and granted him a surplus of father’s strength and intimidating stature. To me, he would always be my guppy of a brother.

  “Fantastic match, Nessa.” His hand closed around my forearm, allowing me to yank him upright. “Your form is exquisite.”

  Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I pulled off my helmet and cradled it between my hip and forearm. My mind ticked over his technique, in search of something nice to say. “You strike quite forcefully, even if your body does announce your move before your sword, and you don’t maintain your guard.”

  There, that was supportive—ish.

  “I’ll work on that.” His blue eyes crinkled into a grin, his palm rubbing over the stubble of his chin that was thickening into a fuller beard by the day.

  The simple gesture made the Tritonites swoon and fan themselves.

  “Great job, Princess!” Doralious shouted from alongside the fencing strip. Time grayed-hair knotted at the base of his neck, he threw me a beaming smile and thumbs up. “Thanks for going easy on our boy!”

  Glancing his way, I caught a glimpse of fluttering movement behind him. Even as I forced a tight smile in response, my body bristled. Fingers drumming against the hilt of my sword, I watched Amphrite swim into view. She chose a pale shade of icy blue for her hair that day. It floated and danced over her shoulders like a gentle snow-flurry. The enigmatic queen borrowed inspiration from the Caribbean merfolk when she opted for a sun-kissed complexion and an eye shade matching their serene, crystal waters. Thanks to her constant glamours, she hadn’t aged a day since I met her. Raising her hand in a wave, she offered me a soft smile I made no attempt to return.

  “Tomorrow, same time?” I raised my eyebrows in Triton’s direction.

  “Until I finally win,” one muscular shoulder rose and fell
in a casual shrug, “then I’m going to stop challenging you and remain the victor forever.”

  “It’s good to have goals,” I snorted, slapping a hand on his back.

  I turned toward my dressing room, swimming one stride before I was halted by Triton self-consciously calling out, “Vanessa? Would you … I mean, I know our schedules are insane, but I … miss you. Do you think we could dine together tonight? Maybe catch up a bit?”

  Hesitating, I floated where I was. My gaze flicked around the room. Neleus hovered on the side of the room, critiquing his protégé by jotting down notes on a scroll. Amphrite peered my way in anxious anticipation to unload whatever criticisms she had of my performance. The Tritonites called out to their imperial idol:

  “Triton, look over here!”

  “I love you, Triton!”

  “Will you sign my shells?”

  Somewhere along the way our worlds had aligned like oil on water, overlapping yet never mixing.

  Glancing back, I offered him a tight smile which couldn’t quite make it to my eyes. “Another time, brother. I think your admirer means to take off that shell bra for you to sign it,” my chin jerked in the direction of the buxom brunette, “and I’m already seeing more of her than I care to.”

  Disappointment registered in the sinking corners of his mouth. “Another time,” he muttered. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Please do.” Even I heard the dismissive nature of the statement and cringed. Expression softening, if only marginally, I nodded to the sword at his hip. “Maybe I can teach you how to actually use that thing.”

  With that as our parting sentiment, I kicked off to change out of my armor.

  I didn’t have to look back to know Amphrite was following me. Her prize seahorse had just come off the track. She needed to make sure my joints were oiled and I got my cool down swim. Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. I couldn’t recall a specific situation where she had ever been intentionally cruel to me. Demanding, scattered, bi-polar, persistent, unforgiving, and a bit flighty? Yes. Cruel? Not deliberately. Then again, how else could you describe someone who inadvertently brought your most vile nightmares to life?

  “You didn’t enchant your sword before the duel,” she stated. Leaning one shoulder against the wall of the changing room, she crossed her arms in front of her.

  Shrugging off my breast plate armor, I shook out the sharks’ teeth chainmail and hung it inside a large wooden armoire one of our fleets had claimed from a ship they sunk off the coast of Bora Bora. The item had once been a lovely show piece that the retrieving mers had been anxious to bring before their king. The sloped peak of the structure was garnished with a pair of intricately carved chubby, human babies with dimples and wings. Apparently, humans do not find their children attractive enough and have to add fantastical elements to them to make them more appealing. It’s sad, really, but I digress. Like any other land-based treasure, the cabinet had not fared well under the sea. Its once rich cherry hue had been infected by rot’s dull, gray pallet. Barnacles grew up its sides, morphing the wooden babies into monstrous mini-beasts.

  “The day I have to enchant my sword to fence against Triton is the day I give up our training and become a stable hand.” Reaching in to situate my helmet on the rickety hook opposite my armor, my wrist was seized by a grim, bony hand within the cabinet.

  Its claws punctured my flesh to the bone, spurting blood of crimson sprays that were instantly gobbled by the ravenous ocean. My arm wrenched to the side at a harsh, unforgiving angle. The force yanked me farther into the makeshift locker. Instinct screamed for me to fight, to pull, to heave at the expense of my trapped limb until I claimed my freedom. Nonetheless, I had played this particular game before. I knew how to end it. Filling my gills with a deep, calming breath, I expelled a wreath of bubbles through pursed lips.

  “Vanessa? Are you okay?” Amphrite asked, concern sharpening her usual chirp.

  My arms went limp. My body leaned into the anguish. A beat. A tightening of the unyielding grasp made me think that this time I’d made a horrible mistake. Then … the ghoulish hand vanished, and I was free.

  Pulling back, I rubbed my wrist. Not a scratch. Not a blemish. Not a surprise.

  “I’m fine,” I lied, holding my wrist up for her to see. Trying to force a smile, it landed somewhere closer to a pained grimace. “Thought I caught myself on a shark’s tooth. Must have been a shell.”

  Her pouty lips puckered into her “thinking face”. I had long since given up trying to predict what gibberish would follow that look. Her moods ran as rampant as the ocean current.

  “You’re getting stronger and aren’t relying on your magic as often as you used to.”

  Turning to the mirror, I adjusted my opalescent shell bra and smoothed my hands over my hair. Loriana had knotted and braided my onyx locks until they ran down the center of my skull like a sleek Orca fin. I couldn’t help but adore the vicious look. Most of the other mermaids in Atlantica possessed a soft, radiant appearance. Their features were delicate, their bone structures dainty and petite. Not me. I was my father’s daughter. I favored him with my strong jawline and wide shoulders. Unlike the other girls’ wispy frames, training for days on end had sculpted me into a rock of pure muscle. Convention be damned. I was comfortable in my skin. My mind may have been a bottomless pit of despair, but my bod was fierce. That was one silver lining I appreciated.

  Running a finger alongside my lower lashes, I wiped away a bit of the squid ink liner which had gotten smudged during the duel. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but wouldn’t that be considered a good thing? I’m getting stronger, don’t need to cheat.”

  “It can be good,” catching a strand of blue hair, she twirled it around her forefinger, then pressed it to her lips, “unless you’re neglecting your magical training. An unused muscle weakens, and with the current state of Atlantica—”

  My palms slapped against the vanity table with a loud crack, the mirror and its pedestal quaking at the impact. All that time, all those hauntings, and I had never told her the truth. Any time I tried to she accused me of making excuses. So, when it came to her, I suffered my episodes in silence.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I caught her stare and held it firm. Filling my gills, I fought for a calm tone. “When it comes to magic, few under the sea can match your talents. Be that as it may, you are not trained in the way of battle techniques. It would be foolish of me to focus on magic, with all its unpredictabilities, alone. Let us agree that my other strengths have merit as well.”

  Amphrite pulled herself up to full height. A haughty lift of her chin allowed her to glare down her nose at me, magic sparking from her fingertips in an open threat. “Let us also remember that while we are working together, I am still your queen and you will show me the proper—”

  Her declaration was cut off by six long conk blasts blaring through the castle and reverberating off every wall. Spinning on the indignant queen, I seized her forearms and forced her to the ground.

  “What is that? What are you doing? What’s happening?” she prattled off her questions in a short, clipped tone which rose a panicked octave with each syllable.

  Throwing myself on top of her, I shielded her body with mine. “Those would be the trumpets of war, my Queen. If you had the battle training I mentioned, you would know that.” Raising my head, I screamed for the guards, “Here! The queen is in here! Come quickly!”

  It took only moments for them to respond, a chorus of clapping swords and banging bone armor announcing their arrival. The dozen soldiers who flooded in immediately formed a protective circle around us as per their standard protocol.

  “It’s clear, Princess,” Doralious prompted, his fin nudging my side.

  Shifting aside, I allowed him to help Amphrite up and floated upright beside them. While Doralious never dared to publicly align himself with me, through years of mutual respect I considered him my closest ally in the Royal Guard … and a friend.

  “Take her to her quarters, an
d do not leave her side,” I commanded. Shoving my way in between a cluster of soldiers, I reclaimed my sword from the cabinet. “Where are my brother and father?”

  “Your father is being rushed to the Summit Room.” Doralious circled one finger for his men to surround the queen, then nodded to the doorway for them to escort her out. “Your brother was last seen in his quarters.”

  “Then that’s where I’ll start looking for him.” My sharp rebuttal acted as a dismissal. He started to follow his men out, only to be stopped by my barked intervention, “Commander Doralious?”

  Turning back, his brows hitched in question.

  “See to her yourself. If any harm finds her, the king will hold us both personally responsible.”

  “On my life and honor, Your Highness.” A respectful bow and he trailed his troop out.

  Weapon in hand and pulse racing, I swam hard to answer the call to war.

  My course led me first down the hall to the sleeping quarters. Once a regal display of extravagance, it had since been deprived of its former splendor. Open arches that once allowed diamonds of light to filter through from above were now sealed off by impenetrable rock walls. The ornate chandeliers had been removed and stowed away for safe keeping. The only light in the space came in the form of the sickly green glow of luminescent sea moss wrapped around thick reeds, which were then stabbed between the gaps of the mosaic shell floor. Sometimes I felt that the castle saw what fun the spirits were having haunting me and made the decision to join in by setting the mood for the lurid nightmares plaguing me. This was one such moment.

  Lights flickered, elongating every shadow.

  Dark recesses of the hall whispered my name.

  Overgrown patches of seaweed morphed into wraith-like hands that clawed up the walls, sprouting and stretching to envelope me.