Gentry and Tara waited patiently at the underside of the chamber for us to join them. Tara’s pixie cut platinum hair was playful and cute when styled, but floating underwater—along with her underdeveloped chest—it kind of made her look like a boy. After only a week, I could already see her dirty blonde roots peeking through. It would grow out in no time. I felt far worse for Gentry. Her perky, D cup breasts, exotic, fiery red hair, mysterious green eyes and sleek, curvy body were going to make her all too popular in a race with no females other than the elderly. Aristos’s assurance that we wouldn’t be touched wasn’t really all that comforting. Sex starved males could only be trusted so far, regardless of how forbidden it was for them to rape us.
Aristos floated on the edge of our circle, observing my and Gentry’s strange handshake ritual with a bemused smirk. It was unsettling to think that we were the aliens here. He was probably just as awestruck to be surrounded by a strange species as we were. Except his kind had known about humans long before we were taken. This was all new to us.
When we finished, Tara raised her hand part way above her head—her desire to be included clearly warring with her fear of rejection. I couldn’t play favorites any longer. Regardless of what the future held for us, we were all in this together. Gentry and I repeated the ritual with her, officially welcoming her into our inner circle.
Watching the conflicting emotions and impulses do battle within Aristos was priceless. His right hand subtly repeated each of the movements at his side, but being the all-powerful general that he was, this was of course far too beneath him. Instead he shot us a very parent-like, god-you-guys-are-childish glare. Are you about finished? Or should I go on ahead and tell the king you’re otherwise engaged?
Gentry motioned for him to lead the way, mocking him by pretending to pull a stick out of her ass as he swam by. That earned her a brief private scolding which she fluffed off with an impressively sarcastic curtsey. Apparently she was as determined to get him to lighten up as he was to rein her in. My money was on Gentry. Whoever coined the phrase “stubborn as a mule” had never met my best friend.
The three of us swam side-by-side as we followed Aristos almost straight down toward the ocean floor. I did my best to keep up with my modified breast stroke and the kick of my right leg, but before long the pain was unbearable. Aristos noticed us lagging behind and circled back, sweeping me up in his arms. My battered body was too tired to offer any protest. I rested my head against the golden armor covering his chest, wrapped my hands around his sinewy neck and did my best not to think about how much of my naked body he was currently touching. Burying my face also kept me from staring up into his alluring brown eyes, which would have made this already too close encounter even more intimate.
It would have been almost impossible for a human to swim carrying someone in the position I was in, but Aristos’s massive tail powered us along without any apparent strain on his part. The temperate water soothed me as it flowed across the aching muscles in my back and legs. Combined with the gentle rocking from each tail stroke it was quite relaxing. I soon drifted off to sleep.
When I woke, we’d stopped moving and were bathed in a faint blue light. Aristos released me from his grip and moved aside, revealing the most beautifully architected cathedral I’d ever seen.
The archway was guarded by two enormous stone statues, towering at least fifty feet into the water above. Neptune was on the left, captured atop his chariot in a pose similar to the design on Aristos’s armor. The other statue was of Poseidon, the Greek god of the sea. His trident was unmistakable. Apparently the Syreni people worshipped multiple pantheons. The church itself was designed on a similar scale as the statues, standing some ten stories tall. It was surprisingly modern in style, with no square walls or right angles, and was topped by an ornate golden dome. Smaller but no less intricately carved sculptures were embedded into the entire outer wall. A legion of stone Syreni warriors appeared to stand guard at posts scattered across the grounds, holding the lanterns that accounted for the soft blue light. I was speechless.
When we enter, the three of you will be asked by our high priest, Johnna, to renounce your false religions, and you will become daughters of either Neptune or Poseidon. Your forearm will be marked with the sign of the god you serve, like all Syreni women are at birth. Once marked, you will spend the rest of the night in the corresponding temple silently praying. Johnna will provide each of you with your Syreni names in the morning. Do your best to befriend our high priest. You will be seeing a lot of him until you master our teachings.
Aristos paused, as if sensing that we weren’t quite grasping the significance of the moment. No one outside of our race has ever entered our cathedral, let alone been accepted into our faith. That may be meaningless to you now, but if you’re considered heathens you will not be allowed to even lay eyes upon the children you give birth to. Your movements within Halon’s Gate would be restricted as well, making all of the plans I mentioned above impossible. I was forced to call in every debt owed to me and risk what remains of my reputation to obtain the votes needed to arrange this. Please help me fulfill my oath to you by cooperating.
Could you renounce being agnostic? I wasn’t even sure what denomination my parents claimed to be. I guess I’d renounce Catholicism, since one of the conditions for being married in Austin’s family church was that I convert. What a shame. Learning about the Greek and Roman pantheons sounded downright fascinating by comparison. I wasn’t crazy about the idea of being tattooed on such a visible part of my body—assuming that’s what he meant by being marked—but if that’s what it took to have the run of the place, and to be trained in combat, it was a pretty small price to pay. As far as I knew, Gentry and Tara weren’t any more religious than I was, not that we’d ever spent a lot of time discussing the topic. They didn’t seem too upset by the news if they were.
Aristos gathered his hair into a loose pony tail as he took in our almost indifferent reactions. Interpreting our relative calmness as agreement, he handed Gentry and I thin strips of canta vine to bind our own hair then led us through the statue framed archway and into the dimly lit outer chamber of the cathedral.
A vibrantly colored, unbelievably lifelike mural depicting Neptune and Poseidon defending a lone Syreni female against a hoard of armor clad griffins encompassed the entire polished marble floor. The statue of a beautiful goddess I didn’t recognize was positioned in the center, and held a heavily jeweled golden chalice. The faint, sky blue light cast from the dozens of lanterns affixed to the outer walls wasn’t enough to let me see more than a few feet down the two passages that led from the back of the room, but given what Aristos had said, I imagined they led to the temples.
The Syreni male stationed next to the statue looked old enough to have known the gods personally. His welcoming smile, weathered face and thin, ashen white hair made me think of my long past grandpa, reading to me in his La-Z-Boy while I sat snuggled up in his lap. Only my grandpa hadn’t been seven feet tall, and he had thankfully been among the tail-challenged. This man’s silver, ornately decorated armor appeared to be placing a tremendous strain on his feeble body, making me wonder if he was going to keel over before we met.
We swam the short distance to where he waited and formed a half circle facing him. Aristos dropped into a deep, respectful bow. It is good to see you, my high priest. You look as young as the day of my binding.
Your lies are too kind, my general. I fear the years that have passed since that blessed day have taken a heavy toll on both of us. Johnna placed his hand on Aristos’s cheek like he might a young child. If they were continuing to speak to one another it had become private.
After a short moment they broke apart and Aristos turned toward the three of us. May I present, Kerrigan, Gentry and Tara. Ladies, this is Johnna, the high priest of the Central Region and all of Teresolee.
We did our best to bow, which wasn’t as easy as it sounded when you were swimming underwater. Mine ended up being more of an ungodl
y painful stomach crunch, and Tara drifted so far forward that she almost bumped into him. Evidently the sentiment was enough.
Welcome to Halon’s Gate, my children. Tales of your selflessness and bravery precede you. Our gods would be truly blessed to gain such lovely daughters, should you be willing to accept our teachings and pledge yourselves to them. I understand you cannot yet speak, so I will take a nod as your vow, but only give it if it is your true will. The gods will not welcome you otherwise.
Johnna took hold of Tara’s hands. Tara, my sweet child, do you renounce the well-intentioned but errant religions of Earth, and pledge your heart, your body and your soul to our primary gods, Neptune and Poseidon?
Tara cast Gentry and I an uneasy glance, looking for some kind of direction, but this was a decision she’d have to make on her own. She knew what was at stake if she declined. If her religious beliefs meant that much to her, I sure wasn’t going to force the issue. Finally, after so much time had passed that I was sure she was going to decline, she steadied herself, met Johnna’s gaze and gave a firm nod.
Wonderful. Place your right arm in the tears of Athena, and discover which god you are destined to serve.
So that’s who the statue was of…the daughter of Poseidon. Made sense I guess, given the ritual. It took a couple short strokes for Tara to get close enough to the chalice to be able to reach inside. Why the almost black fluid inside wasn’t freely mixing with the water that filled the rest of the room was beyond me, unless it was denser or something.
She sank her arm in, almost up to the elbow, and waited for some instruction on what to do next. Her eyes widened in fear a split second before she let out a garbled shriek and yanked her arm out of the fluid, holding it protectively against her chest as she tried to will away the pain.
Let me see, child. Johnna pried her arm loose and brushed away the fluid that still clung to her forearm like paint. Uncovered beneath was a beautifully detailed, charcoal colored trident with ivy like vines stretching outward from the worn handle to wrap around her forearm. It took me a second to realize the chartreuse vines matched her gill covers perfectly. Welcome, daughter of Poseidon. The temple of your firm but devoted father is through the left passage. You shall spend the next several hours communing with him. I will retrieve you in the morning.
With that Tara was summarily dismissed. She swam off toward the left passage, staring at her newly tattooed forearm the entire time.
My mind was struggling to come up with an even remotely plausible explanation for what I’d just witnessed that didn’t involve magic or some sort of divine power. Nothing had touched her forearm except for the creepy black liquid. How could that imprint detailed, brightly colored markings on her skin that were a perfect match for her gill covers?
Maybe there was something inside the chalice that injected the ink into her. Her arm was only in there for a few seconds, though. I’d never been quite drunk or stupid enough to get inked—although I’d certainly thought about it a few times—but even I knew it wasn’t a speedy process. A tattoo the size I’d seen on Tara would take hours.
Judging by Gentry’s open-mouthed expression, she was as dumbfounded and terrified by what had just happened as I was. Johnna had to reach almost all the way behind her to capture her fleeing hands. There is nothing to fear, my young healer. Should you accept our faith and be adopted by one of our gods, it will be a cause for great celebration. Do you renounce the modern religions of Earth, and pledge your heart, your body and your soul to our primary gods, Neptune and Poseidon?
Her frightened eyes locked on mine, and this time I couldn’t keep from giving her an encouraging nod. The thought of her being treated like a slave with no rights or freedom while we were stuck here was unbearable. They’d have to kill me first. Her nod was little more than a halfhearted twitch of her chin, but apparently that was enough.
Your will is pure. You must now place your right arm in the tears of Athena, and discover which god you are destined to serve.
Gentry was far more methodical as she lowered her arm into the liquid than Tara had been, and seemed to be feeling around inside the chalice. Based on her scrunched brows and the telltale biting of her lip, whatever theory she’d hoped to confirm with her exploration hadn’t panned out. Her inquisitiveness was soon replaced with sheer pain, and her arm was out of the chalice faster than I could blink.
To my surprise—both that he would offer and she would so willingly accept—the high priest pulled her body into a comforting hug before taking hold of her right arm to reveal her mark. The bearded god, Neptune, stood atop a chariot harnessed to two hippocamps. The tails of the beasts were sky blue, matching her gill covers, and wrapped twice around her wrist.
Oh, what a joy! Johnna was shaking with the kind of youthful excitement that contradicted his advanced age. Welcome, daughter of Neptune. Our last ten healers have been daughters of Poseidon. How interesting that he should choose to adopt you. Your battle hardened but loyal father awaits you down the right passage. He is not known for his patience, child. I would not keep him waiting. Be off. I will retrieve you in the morning.
If the speed at which Gentry swam down the right tunnel was any indication, upsetting Neptune—the god she now supposedly served—was something she truly feared. Just like that she’d become a believer.
I was so busy analyzing her reaction and hasty departure that I didn’t even realize Johnna now held my hands in his. Kerrigan, I must say Aristos’s tales of your immense courage, fierce loyalty, and bravery in battle have been met with great skepticism. Never to our knowledge has a Syreni female slayed a griffin in hand-to-hand combat, let alone with such an unsuited weapon. Not that our protective Syreni warriors would ever place their females in such a position to allow them to try. But there is no denying the scars you bear, nor the collaborating words of our master healer. And I have seen with my own eyes how calmly you stand before me now, even after witnessing divine acts that scare you. Not to mention how protective you are of your friends.
I know you have been asked to give up far too much to be here with us. I am truly sorry for that. I hope you will embrace our faith and allow me to council you through this most difficult transition. I give you my solemn vow that you will not be judged for whatever you share in our sessions, and they will be heard by no other—not even the king. While you will be required to do certain…things, it is my deepest wish that you find happiness here.
Will you renounce the false religions of Earth along with your own agnostic beliefs—yes child, I can sense them—and pledge your heart, your body and your soul to our primary gods, Neptune and Poseidon?
As shocking as it was to be confronted about my very private beliefs, the skeptic in me figured he’d just picked up on my thoughts outside the cathedral. Maybe I had some tiny amount of innate ability for telepathic speech that I didn’t know how to control. Or maybe some of the Syreni could read thoughts without them having to be broadcast out of the mind. Either of those was easier and far less scary to believe than if he could assess my spirituality—or lack thereof— with just a glance. But that wouldn’t explain what I had seen with Tara and Gentry.
For the first time in my adult life, I found myself seriously contemplating the existence of a god—two of them, in this case. Was I really so certain they couldn’t exist that I’d rather be cast into slavery than open my mind up to the mere possibility? What did I really have to lose? But Johnna was asking for more than my concession that his gods might exist. I needed to pledge myself to them—heart, body and soul. And based on the way he’d evaluated Gentry’s acceptance and my own beliefs, I had to assume he’d be able to discern the truth.
I couldn’t nod my head. Before I could pledge my soul I had to believe it existed, and I’d need to know a hell of a lot more about the gods I was handing it to than their names. To ensure my will was as clear as I could make it I decided to think my response, hoping Johnna would at least be able to pick up on the underlying sentiment behind my reasoning, even
if he couldn’t read my mind.
I hope you can understand how hard this is for me. I’ve never believed in any god. From what I’ve seen, organized religion is nothing more than a tool used by the government and the wealthy for power, greed and control. And given how screwed up things have gotten on earth, not to mention all the horrible tragedies that have taken place in my lifetime alone, you’d think if there really was some all-powerful being out there, they would have stepped in by now.
Having said that—or thought it, I guess—it’s not like I don’t have plenty of unanswered questions of my own, like what just happened to Gentry and Tara for starters. The Syreni people seem to base their entire culture around Neptune and Poseidon, and it’s not like you’re some ignorant race using religion as a catch-all for things you can’t explain. You’re far more advanced scientifically than we are. That’s not enough to make me believe on its own, but it is enough to make me wonder and be open to learning more.
I, Kerrigan Elizabeth Everett, renounce all of Earth’s religions, which greatly contributed to my probably just as misguided lack of spirituality. I pledge to dedicate myself to learning more about Poseidon and Neptune, and I promise to respect the Syreni’s beliefs while I do so. If you’re still willing, I’d like to take you up on your offer to council me as well. With that I glanced anxiously at the high priest.
Johnna’s wizened smile further wrinkled the weathered skin beneath his ancient eyes. It was contagious. I soon found myself grinning stupidly back at him. A truer declaration I have never bore witness to, my child. You may place your hand in Athena’s tears. May our god’s not do battle over such a valued soul.
My heart thundered in my chest as I took the two short strokes necessary to get within reach of the heavily jeweled golden chalice. My own reflection cast back at me from the surface of the smooth-as-glass liquid inside, letting me see my gill covers for the first time. The dark burgundy flaps were expanding and contracting like crazy with my increased breathing, making the faint reddish hue they cast dance across my flesh. I had to admit that Gentry was right. As much as I might hate having them, they were kind of bad-ass. My chest was another matter. Seeing even a brief reflection was enough to make me plunge my hand into the fluid just to shatter the image of the torn apart flesh I would carry for life.
Kerrigan's Race (The Syreni Book 1) Page 7
