You’re alive. The beast isn’t. In battle there is often a perilously thin margin between victory and death. Hades—the keeper of our lost souls—has truly blessed the Fae by bringing you and your sisters to me. Given your sister’s training as a Syreni healer—which was obvious from her distinct facial markings—she should make an excellent Hive Nurse, which we are in desperate need of. As for your younger sister, lacking any discernible skill she will become a Hive Worker, focused on the expansion and maintenance of our caves. Her physical strength will be a tremendous asset to our mining crew. The fortified nests you and your sisters will give birth in are secured high within these caves, well above sea level with enough exposure to the outside air for your children’s gills to develop, which is a necessity for the Water Fae as well. Thankfully griffins want nothing to do with our kind, thinking we are the enemy of their enemy, I suppose. Now that you are Fae you will have nothing to fear from them.
As she finished up staining the back of my tail I considered filling her in on the Snow Elf and Water Fae alliance the fates had foreseen. It felt wrong to withhold information that could provide the Fae with the necessary magic to enslave the Syreni and do away with the need for soulcras altogether, but the relationship between our races was more complex than I’d first thought. We depended on the Syreni not just for their life-force we siphoned off to stay alive but to revitalize our DNA when our species grew weak. Both sides benefitted from the alliance my Hive Queen and Bulrigaard had struck. The Syreni would once again have a queen and would no longer be threatened with extinction, as me and my sisters would be allowed to give birth to our Syreni daughters in peace. And while the power we’d gain from forming an alliance with the Elves might sound tempting, in the end the fates had seen the complete destruction of both Earth and Teresolee. Even if I just looked at it from a purely selfish Fae point of view, I couldn’t see any reason to promote that course of action. Besides, according to the gods, at least, I’d been the only thing standing in the way of the Ill-fated alliance coming to pass. I was out of the equation now. If our Hive Queen chose to make a deal with the Snow Elves—if and when that opportunity presented itself—that was her business.
All finished, Willoe proclaimed, replacing the makeshift cork in the pink-and-yellow shell. She placed it next to the pile of used sponges on the long stone shelf cut into the wall just above the slab I’d been lying on. You look gorgeous, my hatchling. No one would confuse you with being Syreni any longer. You and your sisters will need to bathe each other every day to insure your new coloration becomes permanent as quickly as possible. All of the supplies you’ll need will be kept on this shelf.
My arched brow and pointed gaze across the enormous bath chamber containing thousands of stone beds identical to the one we’d just used brought forth another of her precious, spellbinding laughs. When I felt her clawed hands settle on my cheeks I closed my eyes in anticipation of her embrace, only to have her kiss my forehead instead. Hades help me, I even find your snarky insolence adorable.
She waited until I opened my eyes again, having abandoned my faint hope that a real kiss might still follow, before she motioned to the series of symbols carved into the surface of the stone just beneath the shelf. These five symbols represent your Hive Cell. The first is the name of your quadrant, the second is the section, the third is the floor, the fourth is your row and the fifth is your cell. Our written language has over five thousand of such symbols which share nothing in common with any language used on earth. I am one of the few Water Fey—the very oldest of our hive—who speak English. Much like moving to a foreign country, at first you and your sisters will have to rely on rote memorization, focusing on the names and symbols most important to your day-to-day lives, but in order to become productive members of our society, you’ll need to learn to read, speak and write in our language fluently.
Nightmares from my disastrous semester of Spanish my freshman year came back to me like the suppressed memories of a traumatized child, making my whole body shudder. When I’d confided in my professor that I’d never had Spanish in high school and was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up, which could jeopardize my swimming scholarship, she assured me no one had failed her class yet. Six months later I was in summer school trying to make up for my F while my recently tenured, forty-something professor chose to retire to her parent’s ranch in Wyoming.
Seeing me tremble, she took a firm hold of my shoulders, her scarlet wings effortlessly gliding through the water to help keep her positioned above me. You look as if a cutterfish is bearing down on you, hatchling. Relax. Water Fae children barely more than toddlers learn our language in a matter of months. From what I’ve heard, you’re at least a reasonably intelligent, college educated woman. It shouldn’t take long at all for you and your sisters to pick up our dialect with you being completely immersed in our society.
I stared directly into her glowing red eyes, all traces of humor wiped away from my grim face. There’s no way I’d be able to serve as the General of the Hive Guard—or contribute to the Hive in any significant capacity beyond producing offspring—if I couldn’t speak to anyone besides my sisters and our queen. I wouldn’t even be able to understand my own children. Whichever child took the longest to learn your language in the entire history of the Water Fae, I swear to Hades I’ll be a hundred times worse. You’d have better luck teaching the entire hive English.
At least my mini-panic attack earned me a proper kiss, even if it was just to siphon off some of my negative energy. Her supple black lips brushed against mine as her tongue made its long overdue return visit to the inside of my mouth, exchanging seductive sparks with my own that instantly aroused my soulcras. After only a couple seconds she forced herself to pull away. My eyelids felt like they weighed half a ton each but I wasn’t anxious anymore. Best. Therapy. Ever.
That is utter nonsense, hatchling. And I’ll offer a friendly wager to prove it. As you can see by the changing shade of the water it’s already twilight. If I’m not able to teach you our Hive Cell structure before the sun sets I’ll catch you your choice of fish for dinner. If I am, you’ll be hunting for our meal tonight. Sound fair?
Fair? It was like getting offered a thousand-to-one odds that the Titanic wouldn’t sink at the end of the film. I pounced on her offer without an ounce of guilt. After being deprived of the mother of all buffets the night before without getting to savor a single bite I figured she owed me.
As it turns out, I’d been totally swindled by the Mr. Miyagi of Water Fae teachers. One second I was drawing simple finger paintings on my stone bed wondering what the hell she was trying to teach me, and the next I was correctly identifying and properly pronouncing the names of not only my own complete Hive Cell hierarchy but all four of our quadrants and the twelve sections each quadrant contained. I was so blown away by what I’d somehow mastered in maybe thirty minutes tops, I felt like I should go all Dead Poets Society, swim up above the slab and mentally scream out “Oh captain, my captain!”
Both quadrants and sections were used like demographic identifiers to divide the Water Fae into smaller and smaller groups. Hive Mates from your own section were like people that lived in your hometown, while those from your quadrant were the equivalent of being from your state. The ten floors within each section and seven rows on each floor followed a numerical scheme I was just beginning to understand, as did the dozens of cells in each row, but she’d taught me more than enough to win our bet. With an overabundance of fish inhabiting the coral reefs in the center of the stadium-sized cave I didn’t have to go far to fetch our dinner. Phosphorous lanterns scattered throughout the network of underwater tunnels came on just as I returned to my stone bed with a still flapping tiger fish in my mouth, another in my right hand and two very dead yellow-and-blue striped fish called sha-has in my left.
I handed Willoe one of each before I bit down on my struggling prey, severing the tiger fish’s spine as my mouth filled with blood. I was just about to discard the skin I’d strippe
d from its side when she stopped me. We waste nothing here, my hatchling. These reefs are all that we have to sustain ourselves. If we ever consume more fish than the schools of fish can replenish we’d be forced to venture outside the Hive to supplement our diets, risking predation and exposure of the Hive entrances. While you’re pregnant you’re free to eat your fill without any restrictions, but you will eat every bite of each fish you harvest, guts, bones and all.
I can’t say her description of the daily special did great things for my appetite, but after not eating for at least two days I was starving. Picturing myself as a river otter scarfing down on a nice fat salmon helped me get over the mental hurdle of eating its gristly head. As for the skin, it served as the tortillas for my gut and sushi burritos, with just enough meat mixed in for me to be able to choke down the revolting creations without barfing it right back up again. With all the disgusting parts out of the way I was able to savor the remainder of the flakey red meat. I planned a similar tactic to stomach the Sha-ha but was surprised to find it tasted almost like a giant honeytail. Not quite as sweet, and with more of a scallop texture than a gooey, caramel apple filling, but damned good nonetheless. By the time I downed the last bite of the ten-inch fish I was stuffed.
That makes quite a combination, doesn’t it?
I glanced to my right to see her licking the remains of the Sha-ha from her clawed fingers like the blood and guts were left over chocolate chip cookie dough. It made me wish I’d been messier with my own meal. It really does. Not that I’ve tried a whole lot to compare it to. Widow crabs, tiger fish, honeytails and lion thumb sea peppers are about the only things I’ve eaten since I was brought here.
The Syreni have forgotten what it means to be carnivores, with their elaborately prepared meals served on silver platters by the low-born and the elderly. There are no handmaidens or servants here. I feed and bathe myself like everyone else. You are an animal, hatchling; a fearsome predator sharks cower from. In time you’ll crave the taste of fish heads and nutrient-rich entrails more than the sweetest of honeytails.
I seriously doubted that given the putrid aftertaste that still lingered in my mouth, but I’d certainly been pampered just as she’d described. The contrast between her and the leader I’d been before she’d claimed me was telling. She made no attempt to separate herself from the Hive Mates she ruled. She didn’t wear even a simple crown. There were no elaborate tattoos or fancy jewels. No servants waiting in the shadows to satisfy her every whim. She didn’t even have any guards from what I could see. I was honored to serve her.
In the time it had taken us to eat my catch the last remaining natural light had disappeared from the tropical water, leaving only the faint bluish tint of the phosphorous lamps, and the glowing red eyes of dozens of my Hive Mates busy hunting their own dinners, to guide our way as we crossed through the cavernous bath chamber. Given that the gigantic cave was home to the coral reefs that served as the Water Fae feeding ground, it didn’t surprise me to find it also was a major transportation hub, with a mindboggling network of varying sized tunnels leading off in every possible direction.
From the map she’d had me draw earlier I knew my quadrant occupied the southeast quarter of the hive, not that I had any sense of direction as I blindly followed behind her through winding, interconnected caves, cramped switchbacks and high speed eddies that threatened to suck me down drain shoots I’d probably never escape from. I could have sworn we’d swam by one of the moss covered boulders near the entrance to one of the caves at least three times. If she expected me to find my own way back to the coral reefs to feed I was going to starve to death long before Vanessa was born. Just when I was starting to doubt she had any idea where she was going either, she darted up through a man-hole sized opening in the ceiling of the four foot wide cave we’d been squirming through for a quarter mile. We emerged inside a perfectly straight, obviously hand-cut tunnel with phosphorous lamps hung at equal intervals along the entire mile long stretch. Not only were we in the right row on my floor, the five symbols etched into the stone my fingers traced revealed we were right in front of my cell. No one likes a show off.
I gave her my most beleaguered look, with my upper lip curled into a snarl, my mouth open wide and my brows arched as high as they could go, as I gasped in huge mouthfuls of water, my hands splayed on my hips in an attempt to catch my breath after the grueling swim. My apologies, Hive Queen, but as impressive of a spelunking exhibition as that was, there’s no way in a million years I’d ever be able to find my own way back to where we were. If there’s not a more direct way to get there I’m screwed.
Willoe ran her claws possessively along my jaw line, her smile bright enough to light the entire hallway. Her comforting touch had me nestling closer, resting my head in the palm of her hand. I apologize for the rather unorthodox journey. I assure you there are far easier and less dangerous ways to navigate the Hive. Our impromptu language lesson, while valuable, put us significantly behind schedule. I was hoping to make up enough time to allow you to do more than greet your sisters prior to your naming ceremony but I’m afraid I came up short. Take a moment to familiarize yourself with your Hive Cell while you round up your sisters.
The layers of thin orange membrane covering the opening are taken from the lining of a teragore whale stomach. While the drain current tubes accessed through tiny capped holes in our Hive Cells—our equivalent of flower balneo—work well for discarding the majority of our waste, the inevitable seepage would make the water unbreathable without the membranes digesting the residual waste they filter, not to mention dangerously contaminated. Just slide your body between the layers, work your way to the middle, slip through the gap to the next layer and slide your body back to the side. Be quick, hatchling. I’ll wait here for you.
Squeezing between the slick, elastic layers was disturbing on so many levels. It was almost impossible to breathe with my face crammed into the membrane every painstaking inch of the way. It felt like I was climbing inside a giant vagina. By the time I finally escaped into my Hive Cell my heart was crashing against the inside of my ribs, I was gasping for breath and on the very edge of a full blown claustrophobic breakdown. I was tempted to drop down to the stone floor and kiss it in celebration of my freedom but found myself swallowed up in the arms of my sisters.
Welcome, Hive Mate! They both squealed in delight. I got the feeling from the almost choreographed delivery that they’d been waiting to say that for a very long time.
After the world’s longest three way hug we separated just enough to look each other over. Their shimmering black bodies literally stole my breath away. Just like our Hive Queen, every inch of their scale covered skin—from their smiling faces to the flukes of their tails—refracted light from the phosphorous lamp sconces affixed to the walls as if the tissue itself was made from the world’s most iridescent jewels. If it weren’t for Naome’s much larger breasts and the difference in eye color I wouldn’t have even been able to tell them apart. Thank you my Fae sisters. You both look so beautiful.
You should see yourself, Naome said, already launching into our usual intricate handshake, which I then repeated with Serienne. Switching species for the second time clearly hadn’t done anything to hinder our friendship.
Just think, she continued, now that we’re Fae no one will ever try to separate us. We’ll get to live here together playing with our children for centuries.
And eventually we’ll all have long crimson hair, scarlet wings and gorgeous glowing red eyes just like our Hive Queen! Serienne twirled her body around like she was dancing to enchanting music only she could hear. She said we’ll be able to fly high above the water like a raptor. How fucking cool is that!
Naome and I began to dance right alongside our exuberant sister as we all celebrated together, our tails darting through the water, our hips shaking and our arms lifted high above our heads. We don’t have to worry about being slaughtered by griffins when we give birth, either.
Oh! Let us give you
the grand tour! Naome called out, bringing an abrupt halt to our dancing. I’m glad someone had remembered why I’d been sent in here. Our Hive Queen was probably growing impatient already and I’d barely made it past the door.
I was soon being dragged off; my hands captured by both of my sisters as they led me around an oblong cave the size of a large apartment. The left side of the room was taken up by ten stone slab beds, three of them piled high with furs and covered in rope netting very similar to what I’d grown accustomed to while living with the Syreni. Crib-sized beds were positioned at the head of each of them, ensuring we’d have easy access to our children. The two small windows cut out of the back wall provided us with a beautiful view of an underground sea trench so deep I couldn’t see the bottom. It appeared to be enclosed on all sides by the enormous mountain we’d carved tunnels through to form our living quarters.
The stone-corked openings that served as our toilets were located on the far right, one of which I made use of with their guidance, having not peed in Hades knew how long. The current on the other side of the wall was so strong it sucked my body flat against the stone like a giant vacuum. I had to press my hands hard against the wall when I was finished just to break free. Feeling like your guts were about to be sucked out of you wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but I’d bear it if it meant we didn’t have to live in our own waste.
Some kind of game they’d been playing before I came in was setup on a flat slab in the front of the room. Tiny figurines carved out of bone into the shape of various sea creatures and weighted down with metal were positioned across the detailed map carved into the stone surface; half of them stained black and the other half red. I wasn’t sure if the map was supposed to be Teresolee or not. As for the game, it looked like some sort of mix between Risk and chess. Naome bragged about how she was winning while she explained the rules, pointing out how her armies had captured five of the regions already, and that she was quickly closing in on Serienne’s stronghold. The nine marked stone dice they rolled when they both took a turn each contained six different symbols from the Water Fae language. I had no idea what the individual symbols meant, let alone the combinations, but they didn’t have any trouble deciphering the results of each throw. By the end of the round Serienne had lost three more of her octopus looking pieces, two manta rays and one of her Water Fae, which were the most powerful pieces on the board. Even I could tell things didn’t look good for the red Water Fae queen.
Kerrigan's Race (The Syreni Book 1) Page 34
