The Junior Novel

by Jim McCann

  At this, all hope Orm had of having a relationship disappeared, exiting his body in a sigh. In its place formed anger, and an idea.

  “Are you invoking the ‘Combat of the Kings,’ then?” Orm said, a cold smile forming.

  “Nice name. Sure, I invoke it. Bring it,” Arthur shot back.

  Orm rubbed his hands together. “Well, then that’s how we shall proceed.”

  At his words, both Mera and Vulko stood in protest.

  “Your Highness!” Vulko’s voice warned.

  “Orm, please. Don’t—” Mera’s plea was cut short.

  Orm turned to them, addressing them as if they were children. “Don’t you see? He leaves me with no other choice. Defeat the firstborn of Atlanna in a formal challenge, then everyone will have to concede. I will be named rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

  “Your Majesty”—Mera’s tone changed—“there is no honor in defeating the ignorant.” Arthur’s eyes turned to her at the perceived insult. Her eyes met his, seeming to say, Play along, fool.

  “He clearly doesn’t know our ways,” Vulko agreed.

  “Then he is about to get a lesson.” Turning to Arthur, he asked, “Are you officially challenging me?”

  “If that’s what it takes, yeah. I officially challenge you to kick your butt to the bottom of the sea.” Arthur smiled through gritted teeth. “And when I win?”

  Orm smiled and held out his arms. “Then I cease all plans of attack and you will have stopped a war. But if I win, all you love will be destroyed.” He clapped his hands together suddenly to punctuate his point.

  “It’s on, little brother,” Arthur said coldly.

  Orm turned to the guards. “So be it. I have accepted the challenge. Prepare him for the Ring of Fire!”

  Arthur’s face contorted in confusion as the guards pulled him away. Ring of—what? As he passed Mera, he saw her face pale and wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

  Eight

  The sun beat down on the beach in Amnesty Bay. A sixteen-year-old Arthur whipped his shaggy hair from his face, the tide’s mist making it more of a mop than usual. Standing across from him, Vulko smiled as he saw Tom approach.

  “I figured this day would come eventually,” Tom said as he walked to the teacher and student.

  Arthur looked at what his father was carrying. “Mother’s trident?”

  “Had to come off the wall eventually. If it’s in anyone’s hands, it should be yours.” Tom smiled, pride in his eyes, as he handed the weapon to Arthur and moved back a bit. He had waited years to see if Arthur had inherited Atlanna’s fighting abilities. From a safe distance away, he would soon find out as Vulko trained his son.

  Arthur tested the weight of the weapon in his hand. It was lighter than he had imagined. In his sixteen years, never once had he taken it off the wall. It was like a monument to his mother, something even his curiosity must not cave in to. As he touched the prongs gently, one cut his finger, a pinprick of blood forming. It was still sharp, even after all these years.

  Vulko raised his own weapon—a spear—and pointed it at Arthur. “We have practiced sparring with spears, but if you ever wish to become an Atlantean king, you must master the traditional weapon of one.” Arthur had barely turned his attention back to his mentor when he saw Vulko spring to action. “Defend yourself!”

  Instinctively, Arthur twisted his body and swung the trident down with both hands, knocking the spear away. The weapon sliced through the air with ease, almost as a natural extension of Arthur’s arm. As Vulko stepped back to his starting position again, Arthur moved the trident to hold in just one hand. Master and student began sparring, working to full speed.

  Vulko dodged and weaved as Arthur thrust the trident at him. When Arthur swung it again, Vulko bent backward to avoid the blow. He circled Arthur, the two moving as if in a dance. Arthur was getting the hang of it, and he knew it. He flashed a cocky grin as he crouched down, ready to disarm Vulko. His teacher, however, had a different thought in mind.

  With a flick, Vulko’s spear danced to the top of his wrist and began to twist around as he twitched his hand back and forth. The spear spun like a propeller around his wrist, picking up speed. Arthur was about to rush his mentor when the twirling spear sucked water from the sea, which Vulko was standing ankle-deep in, and gushed it out with a forceful blast that sent Arthur flying back.

  “What was that?!” Arthur’s eyes lit in amazement.

  “A move I’ll teach you when you have mastered the trident,” Vulko said.

  Looking at the rocks where his father had found Atlanna before he was born, Arthur slowly walked there, lost in thought. Dark thoughts he’d buried for years. He sat on the rocks and found Vulko had followed.

  “This is my mother’s trident, yeah? So why isn’t she here teaching me how to use it instead of you?”

  Vulko’s tone was measured. “It is not the job of a queen—”

  “It’s the job of a mother!” Arthur yelled, pent-up anger finally rising to the surface. “Why has she never come to see me?”

  “Son . . .” Tom reached his hand out to try and calm Arthur, but Vulko raised his own hand, signaling that he could handle this.

  Vulko looked at the boy calmly. “As I have said, when you are ready—”

  “STOP LYING TO ME!” Arthur yelled. “You’ve said this to me after every lesson. When will I be good enough for her? Or . . .” Arthur took a breath, speaking the words he had buried deep inside for years.

  “Does she not love me?” His voice cracked. Tom turned away and walked back to his outpost on the pier, leaving Vulko to tell the tale he himself refused to believe.

  Vulko softened. “Your mother loved you very much.”

  “Loved?” Arthur asked. Then as realization began to set in, he looked at Vulko, paling.

  “She kept your birth a secret from King Orvax for years. But when he found out she’d had a son with a surface dweller, his jealousy took over.” Vulko took a moment, dreading his next words. “He sacrificed her to the creatures of the Trench Kingdom, those that dwell where light cannot penetrate the darkness, and from which no Atlantean has ever returned.”

  Arthur began to shake as anger crashed through him like the high tide. Tears stung his eyes. “No. No, no, no,” he muttered, his head bowed. Then, looking up slightly, his eyes grew ice-cold, staring at Vulko with a fury the man had never seen.

  Even-toned, Arthur confronted his mentor. “They executed her? Are you saying they killed my mother? Murdered her because she had me?”

  Vulko couldn’t look Arthur in the eye. The boy suddenly turned and hurled the trident into the base of the pier, twenty feet away. Tom looked down at his son, heart in his throat. He refused to believe Atlanna was dead, and hoped one day Arthur would as well.

  For the moment, Arthur had only anger in him. He turned to Vulko and shouted, “Never ask me to return with you into the sea. I want nothing to do with Atlantis!”

  As Arthur walked away, Vulko prayed to Poseidon that the rightful heir to the throne would one day change his mind.

  Vulko escorted Arthur from the Atlantean armory and headed for the Coliseum. Arthur was wider and taller than most Atlanteans, due to his mixed heritage, which meant the hand-me-down armor he’d found to put on was ill-fitting. Vulko, holding Atlanna’s trident, stopped Arthur in the corridor, unable to hold his tongue any longer.

  “How could you be so foolish? You let Orm bait you into a fight,” Vulko whispered harshly.

  Arthur gave him a surprised look. “I thought you were supposed to be the royal adviser. You wouldn’t have told me to do this? I just solved all our problems. I beat him in combat, war is over, I go home.”

  “No question, Arthur, that you are a formidable fighter on land—but you are out of your element here. Literally.” Vulko waved his arm through the water that surrounded them. “Orm has spent his entire life underwater. Training to be a warrior. Training to be the best.”

  “You taught me how
to fight. Worried you didn’t do enough? Because now isn’t the best time to bring that up,” Arthur said, eyebrow raised.

  Vulko sighed. His apprentice was as stubborn as ever. “You’ve become a strong fighter in your own right, Arthur, but Orm will offer you no quarter whatsoever. Two combatants enter the Ring of Fire. Only one emerges.” He thrust Atlanna’s trident into his former student’s hand. “I pray it’s you.”

  The words hung in the air between them before Arthur nodded his head and the pair made their way to the entrance of the Coliseum. They entered a sparring room where Orm and Mera stood, talking quietly. Arthur looked around, unimpressed, but then his eyes caught on Mera.

  Her hair was swept up, revealing a dress with silver lace on top that flowed into soft blues and reds. It moved with the water like a jellyfish. Appropriate for the Xebellian woman: a beautiful and deadly creature.

  “You look radiant,” Orm was saying.

  Mera looked across the room to Arthur, her expression unreadable, before turning forcefully to face Orm. She gave only a nod in answer.

  Orm reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a small bracelet. A precious stone inset in the center glimmered green in the light. He took Mera’s hand.

  “It matches your eyes.” Orm smiled, a fond memory crossing his mind. “I have always thought you and my mother had similar eyes. Emerald and strong. It’s fitting you have this, then.”

  Mera opened her mouth to object, but Orm raised her hand and kissed it before slipping the bracelet on her and said, “It belonged to my mother, our former queen.”

  Mera couldn’t hold her tongue any longer. “Your mother . . . What would she think, seeing her sons fight like this?” she hissed, pulling her hand away. She gingerly fidgeted with the bracelet that now encircled her wrist.

  Orm’s blue eyes flashed, but he didn’t take the bait.

  Finally, Arthur broke the silence. “So this is the big ‘Ring of Fire,’ huh? How’s this work? I kick your ass right here and now?”

  Orm smiled at Vulko and Mera, neither of whom looked at Arthur, as if the three were coconspirators in a secret Arthur was left out of.

  “Vulko,” he said, waving Mera forward. “Will you please escort my fiancée to the royal box? It has the best view.”

  Fiancée? Arthur flashed Mera a look of confusion, but Mera just gazed coolly back at him. Alone, Arthur turned to Orm. Aware of the guards, Arthur got as close as he could to his brother, who was holding his shark-finned helmet in one hand and a wicked-looking trident in the other. Arthur held his own less ornate helmet and their mother’s trident. A moment passed as the brothers seemed to size each other up.

  “You know,” Arthur said with a chuckle that surprised Orm, “there was a time when I wanted to meet you more than anything. Get to know my little brother. Let him know he wasn’t alone. That we were in this together.”

  Arthur watched as a look of surprise crossed Orm’s face. Had his brother wanted the same? Arthur brushed away the thought; any hope of reconciliation was long gone.

  “If only I had known what a jerk you had turned out to be.”

  There was no reaction from Orm. Gone were the temper and bravado. Just a man—a madman, yes—who lifted his head to look at his brother one last time to admit something he had never said aloud before.

  “I don’t want to kill you, Arthur,” he said. Arthur was shocked at the sincerity in Orm’s voice. “I’m going to give you one last chance. Go home. Don’t ever come back to Atlantis. You’re not going to win this.” Orm’s voice changed from compassion to resilience. “A war is coming to the surface whether you like it or not, and I’m bringing the wrath of the Seven Seas with me.”

  Arthur steeled himself. “I can’t let that happen.”

  “I know,” Orm said regretfully.

  Suddenly, the brothers’ meeting was interrupted by the sound of a loud BOOM that sent vibrations through the water and rattled Arthur’s teeth.

  “What the hell is this?” Arthur asked.

  Orm gave his brother a deadly grin. The time for talk had passed. “This? This is what you asked for.”

  The ceiling above suddenly split open and a hot red glow lit the room. Orm looked back at Arthur.

  “The Ring of Fire!” he proclaimed as he launched himself out of the sparring room and through the opening. Arthur followed him through.

  “Crap,” he muttered. “You guys take this whole ‘Ring of Fire’ literally, don’t you?”

  The Coliseum was a massive structure built into the cone of an underwater volcano. The citizens of Atlantis were on their feet in the seating that stretched all the way around the rim. The boom noise Arthur had heard continued. He turned to see a massive octopus pounding the largest ceremonial drum Arthur had ever laid eyes on. The thumping of the drum was echoed by the stomping of hundreds of thousands of Atlanteans gathered to watch a once-in-a-lifetime duel.

  Arthur looked around to take in the enormity of the Coliseum. The Romans had nothing on this, he thought. Both majestic and brutal at once, the venue sported two large statues of ancient Atlantean warriors, swords held high. At each of their feet was a spout from which molten lava flowed. Scanning, Arthur saw other outcroppings that spurted lava as well. This was an active volcano, somehow kept in check by Atlantean technology!

  The statues flanked the royal box, where Arthur saw Vulko nervously fidgeting with his robes as he met Arthur’s gaze. Seated near him was Mera. Next to her was a behemoth of a man in segmented armor that reminded Arthur of Mera’s ship. The crown on his head confirmed Arthur’s suspicions: this must be Xebel’s king, Mera’s father, Nereus.

  Turning his attention back to the Coliseum, Arthur noticed a round pedestal in the center of the volcano, built on volcanic rock and shaped into a perfect circle, rising from depths unknown and surrounded by spouts that shot out lava intermittently.

  The Ring of Fire, Arthur had to admit, was nothing if not properly named. And it was possibly the most appropriate place for a challenge of kings, or whatever Orm had called it.

  He barely had time to swim to the pedestal and take his place before his brother addressed his subjects, all of whom let out a mighty roar. Orm raised his trident, and the Coliseum fell deathly silent.

  “People of Atlantis, hear me!” Orm cried, his voice filling the venue. “My brother has come from the surface to challenge me for the throne. Let us settle his claim in the ancient way! By bloodshed do the gods make known their will!”

  Orm pointed his trident at Arthur. The Coliseum filled with the sound of boos. Arthur hadn’t expected a warm welcome.

  In the royal box, Mera turned to her father, her face unable to hide her disgust. “I never thought I’d see the day my own father bowed before the King of Atlantis,” she spat.

  Nereus sat up taller, meeting her gaze with a stern look. “I have not bowed to him,” he corrected his daughter. “But I will stand with him. For now.”

  Mera was perplexed. “I agreed to marry him to prevent wars, not start one.”

  “The surface dwellers drew first blood. What would you have us do? Beg for mercy?”

  Mera looked at him curiously. “The timing of that seemed a bit convenient, don’t you think?” Her father did not answer. Realization dawned on Mera. “No. You wouldn’t be that gullible. You want this, too.”

  Nereus spoke, his gazed fixed on Arthur and Orm. “It is time the surface dwellers knew their place in the world. If this is how it must be done, so be it.”

  Mera’s skin crawled. Suddenly, she felt as alone in this world as Arthur. She looked away from her father, no longer recognizable to her, and faced the center of the ring, offering up a silent prayer for Arthur’s safety in the coming duel.

  A loud blaring sound came from a giant conch shell, signaling the combatants to take their places. The brothers faced each other and tapped their tridents together in ceremonial greeting.

  “You have our mother’s trident. Powerful. But flawed. Like her,” Orm said, looking upon his
rival. His voice chilled. “I wield my father’s, which has never known defeat!”

  He lunged at his brother, striking suddenly. Catching Arthur off guard, the trident found a bit of exposed flesh on Arthur’s arm and drew first blood as Arthur tried to parry. Orm raised his trident and swung it down toward Arthur’s head. The other man barely had time to block as the two tridents clashed. The blow knocked Arthur back in shock. Orm had trained for this. And underwater, he was stronger.

  Mera squirmed in her seat as she watched the battle. Arthur was not prepared for this, so she would have to come up with an alternative, just in case.

  The brothers sparred, clashing tridents and getting in close enough to deliver blows with their fists. Soon, both were covered in slices and signs of bruising. Their clashing took them higher and higher until they were eye level with the crowd, which was riotous in its cheering.

  Mera, seeing the battle clearly lopsided, stole a glance at her father. He was watching the battle of brothers unfold unblinkingly. Silently, she rose from her seat and swam back into the corridor behind them. She needed to act now.

  With a swift twist, Orm angled his arm past Arthur’s defenses and snared his brother in a headlock. Without missing a beat, Orm used the momentum to drive Arthur down, heading for the pouring lava beneath.

  “Bow before me in front of all of Atlantis, and I will let you live out your remaining days in prison,” Orm said as he dived. The water was getting hotter as they approached the lava. Orm continued the dive, aiming Arthur’s head toward the molten flames.

  “Or die in the Ring of Fire!” Orm’s cry prompted a deafening roar from the crowd.

  Arthur flexed, renewed fight flowing through him. He broke free of Orm’s grasp and flipped his brother over his head, nearly shoving the king into the lava meant for Arthur’s head. He swiftly jetted to the platform only to see Orm scoop the lava with his trident and hurl it at Arthur. It quickly hardened as it arced through the water, forming into a dense rock aimed directly at Arthur’s head. Arthur swung his trident down and split the rock in two. He swung the trident back up without looking, anticipating his brother’s next move. The trident hit Orm, glancing off his helmet. Orm knelt and the crowd gasped. Suddenly, who would be the victor was not so clear-cut.