Strangers in Atlantis

by Matt Myklusch

  “Or none of you could leave Atlantis,” Shellheart proposed. “Ever.”

  “Once again, my esteemed colleague speaks the truth,” Finneus told Dean. “You can’t afford to have us as enemies, Dean Seaborne. And you’ll never leave this room if we can’t be friends. You know too much. But you have a chance to live through this and save the lives of your friends in the bargain. One answer, right now. Are you in or out?”

  Dean gritted his teeth. “In. But it has to be tonight.”

  Chapter 24

  Fight Night

  That evening, it was Ronan’s turn to join the human circus. Night had fallen, and once again, half the city had gathered outside the palace. Following Dean’s performance with the eels that afternoon, the people of Atlantis couldn’t wait to see what he and his friends would do next.

  “Another sellout crowd,” Finneus had told Dean before leaving to oversee the evening’s festivities. “We couldn’t have asked for a better diversion.” Atlanteans and tourists had begun filling into the plaza early, and now, with only moments left before showtime, the excitement in the air was palpable.

  An eight-sided cage had been built in the center of the plaza. Inside it, two champions, one from Abyssal and the other from Neptune, were sparring with each other and warming up the crowd. They were the undercard. Ronan’s fight was to be the main event. A bare-knuckle brawl between him and a famous fighter from Atlantis. Dean watched the action unfold from the edge of the plaza, with Shellheart serving as his escort. The duke had been with Dean ever since they had left the healer’s room. Shellheart and Finneus weren’t taking any chances with him. Not when they were so close to achieving their goal.

  Dean looked on longingly as Waverly taped up Ronan’s hands before the big fight. As far as Dean’s friends knew, he was still in the healer’s room, his life hanging by a thread. There was some truth to that idea. If Dean stole the Blood of Poseidon, he would make a “miraculous recovery” and be released. If he failed, he would “succumb to his injuries” and never be heard from again. That was the deal—the only one on the table. Dean’s lack of options didn’t make him feel any better about helping Finneus and Shellheart with their plan.

  “This will all be over soon enough,” Shellheart told Dean. “Just do as you’re told, and you’ll get what you want.” The duke smiled as the Neptunian fighter pounded away at his Abyssian opponent. “We all will.”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” replied Dean.

  “What was that?”

  Dean shrugged. “I’m just saying . . . wishes have a way of not working out, even after they come true. Take it from me, I’ve been doing other people’s dirty work my whole life. I thought I had put all that behind me, but I was wrong. I’m not free. Maybe I never was.”

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

  “You just better be sure this is what you want, is all.” Dean nodded to the ring. The Abyssian fighter rallied and went to work on the man from Neptune. “I know I wouldn’t pick a fight with these guys.”

  Suddenly, the bulky, gray-skinned Abyssian had the pale, limber fighter from Neptune on the ropes. He landed blow after blow to the smaller man’s head as the crowd cheered for a knockout. Shellheart frowned as the Abyssian fighter crouched low to duck a flailing punch and then sprang up with a devastating uppercut. The force of the blow lifted Neptune’s champion into the air. He landed hard on the mat, and the crowd erupted with a roar so loud Dean had to cover his ears. The noise level was particularly impressive given the silence of anyone who hailed from Neptune.

  Shellheart made a face like he was chewing on a clove of garlic. “The real fight will be much, much different.”

  “But hasn’t the fighting been over for a hundred years? Your people can’t all want war . . .”

  The duke scoffed. “Don’t presume to tell me what my men want. We would have had war long ago if not for the queen. That will change. You’ll see. This city isn’t a melting pot. It’s a powder keg.”

  Finneus entered the ring and raised the Abyssian fighter’s arm in the air, officially declaring him the winner. “A triumphant performance!” he said, congratulating the combatant on his victory. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the new heavyweight champion of the sea!” Half the crowd went wild. Shellheart balled a fist. Scores of his pale-skinned countrymen shouted out boos and worse.

  “And now, for something entirely different . . .” Finneus motioned for Ronan to join him in the ring. “In this corner, I give you a young man from the surface with a strength and courage that belies his age. Put your hands together for Ronan MacGuire!”

  The crowd showered Ronan with praise.

  “It’s time,” Shellheart said, handing Dean a satchel. “Here. The tools you requested.”

  Dean took the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Just a minute. I want to see who Ronan’s fighting first.”

  “If I were you, I’d worry about my own self,” Shellheart warned him. “If you fail tonight, or try to betray us in any way, you won’t live long enough to regret it. Your friends down there will share your fate. I’ll see to that personally.”

  “You people,” Dean said, “you’re all the same. Always threatening, even after I’ve agreed to do what you want. I just want to see what my friend’s up against.”

  Ronan climbed into the ring to the sound of thunderous applause. He bounced around on the balls of his feet, throwing jabs, oblivious to the acclaim. Finneus directed the crowd’s attention to the south side of the plaza, where two footmen were wheeling in a rusty metal box the size of a coffin. “And, in this corner . . . a creature that requires no introduction. Beware . . . the Sponge!”

  Dean’s face contorted. “The Sponge? What kind of a nickname is that for a fighter?”

  The duke smirked. “It’s no nickname.”

  Dean stared at the curiosity being wheeled in to fight Ronan. Heavy chains had been wrapped around the metal box, and there was a small window with iron bars on the front. Something behind the bars was banging on the door, trying to get out.

  Ronan stopped moving. He looked rattled as the men propped the box up against an opening in the cage, directly across from him. Finneus hustled out of the ring as they loosed the chains. The thing inside pounded once . . . twice . . . On the third time, the door flew off its hinges and a freakish behemoth squeezed its way out. The crowd was simultaneously revolted and thrilled. The sight transfixed Dean. He didn’t know what to call the beast that emerged from the box. It had the shape of a man, but monster was the only word for it.

  The creature was eight feet tall if it was a foot and covered head to toe with a layer of heavy, sopping sea sponges. Unless the thing was made of sea sponge all the way through. The sponges seemed to come together on its face in the shape of two eyes and a nose. As its mouth opened up, the creature bellowed with a bone-chilling, mindless moan. The Sponge began lumbering toward Ronan, leaving briny, wet footprints on the mat as it stumbled forth.

  “Now you know what he’s up against,” said the duke. “I could have told you that knowledge would do nothing to boost your spirits.” He eased Dean away from the plaza. “Off you go now, little merman. You have a job of your own.”

  Dean took a tortured last look over his shoulder as the duke guided him away. Ronan looked like he wanted to run from the Sponge, but there was nowhere to hide inside the ring. There was nothing Dean could do to help him, either. Nothing beyond what he was already doing, that is. He had to leave, and if he didn’t come back with the Blood of Poseidon, Ronan would have faced that monster for nothing. Dean just hoped his friends—all his friends—would survive whatever happened next.

  Chapter 25

  The Heist

  Dean hurried out to the city limits. His destination was the same place where Lyndra had questioned him and his mates so harshly upon their arrival. The spot was out of the way, sandwiched between two buildings, and as dark an alley as one could hope to find in Atlantis. Dean wagered that hardly anyone went down ther
e on a normal day, and with the world’s strangest boxing match in full swing, the alley would be more deserted than usual.

  Alone in the alley, Dean stepped to the edge of Atlantis, where the Heavy Water barrier cut a line between air and ocean. It was like standing beside a waterfall. Thousands of gallons of Heavy Water rained down from above. The substance didn’t hit the ocean floor, as Dean had originally assumed, but instead disappeared into a trench that had been cut around the city. Looking at the Atlantean border now, it was a wonder how he ever could have missed the trench. A metal grate with iron bars covered the chasm surrounding Atlantis. The bars were set too close together for a person to slip between. But if they weren’t there . . .

  Dean opened the satchel of tools that Shellheart had given him. He didn’t need much. The bag included a strong rope with a claw hook and a small glass vial with a cork top. He set those aside and removed the last two items out of the satchel, a pry bar and mallet. Dean took one last look around as he tossed the empty bag aside. “No sense waiting any longer.”

  Dean went to work, sliding the pry bar under a section of grating. Next, he pushed down as hard as he could, forcing the grate up. Unfortunately, that was all he could do. The weight of the water pounding against the grate was too much. Dean couldn’t move it.

  He took his rope and tied it through the bars. Putting all his weight on the pry bar, he pulled again. And once again, he failed to draw it out. The iron bars were too heavy and the water was too strong. But Dean had come too far to give up now.

  One of the buildings in the alley had a row of columns across its exterior. Dean threw the end of his rope around one of them. Stepping down on the pry bar and pulling the rope around the column like a pulley, he gave it one last go. The rope began to fray as he pulled it, but the added leverage allowed him to tow the grate out of its position. Having opened the door to Poseidon’s Chamber, Dean fell to his knees, exhausted. “Get up,” he told himself. “You’re just getting started.”

  Dean gathered up his rope, tucked the vial into his pocket, and sat down next to the downpour of Heavy Water. He took a breath, said a little prayer, and pushed himself into the chasm.

  He went down like an anchor chain. The Heavy Water beat against him like a thousand hammers, but he weathered the storm as he traveled beneath the city, completely submerged. Dean never would have attempted the drop in a human body. Not because he would have drowned—he wouldn’t have lived long enough to drown. The raging current would have flipped him around until it broke his neck. But as a merman, he went with the flow.

  The water fired him farther down, until he descended into darkness. But just as before, he could still see so much. No matter how little light was there, his heightened sight let him take in his surroundings. It took less than a minute for the furious water to reach Poseidon’s Chamber. Having been there before, Dean knew exactly what he was looking for, and he was ready. As the water entered the chamber, he went flying into the air and threw out the hook.

  It latched onto the platform below the water tank, and Dean hung on tight, swinging out and back again. Eventually, the rope steadied, and Dean dangled there with Heavy Water pouring down on all sides. Below him, the massive wheels that powered the water filter spun wildly. On the platform above him, he saw the statue of Poseidon, unguarded. “No one here,” Dean smiled. He started climbing up, hand over hand. “Too easy.”

  No sooner had he said that than the frayed rope began to unravel. It didn’t snap, holding Dean’s weight, but there was no telling how much longer it would do so.

  “Blast it!” Dean cursed. What now? Should he go slower or try to climb faster and get up past the unraveling section of rope before it broke? If he chose wrong, he’d be shot out into the sea empty-handed and his friends would be doomed.

  Dean opted to go slow. He pulled once on the rope and watched another thread pop. He froze, afraid to move another inch. He couldn’t get up that way. He’d never make it. But what could he do?

  He looked around the cavern. Think, Seaborne! Everyone’s counting on you. His eyes swept the walls. There was nothing there to help him, unless . . . That’s it! The walls!

  Unable to climb up, and with no reason to climb down, Dean decided to try another direction. He moved his legs back and forth, building up momentum and swinging the rope from side to side. It started small at first, but he was soon traveling across the cavern in a wide arc. The movement was also taxing on the rope, but this way, when the rope finally gave out, Dean would still have a chance. He flew across the chamber like the pendulum of a grandfather clock until forward momentum carried him all the way to the wall. He latched on to one of the pipes fixed on the sides of the chamber and held on for dear life.

  From there, Dean climbed, looking more like a monkey-man than a merman, until he was directly over the platform housing Poseidon. Dean let go, dropping twenty feet and landing hard on his side. It hurt like the devil, but the pain came with purpose, and it put a smile on his face. He had reached the statue. Dean staggered to his feet and checked the glass vial in his pocket. Thankfully, it had not shattered.

  “Too easy,” he whimpered, but he wasn’t being entirely ironic. As he emptied the goblet of Poseidon’s blood into the vial, Dean had to admit this step could have been much harder. If any guards had been posted here, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  He corked the vial after filling it to the brim and then gathered up the top half of his rope, which was still hooked onto the metal platform. He was about to throw the rope into the water below when a troubling realization hit him:

  It didn’t matter if he delivered the blood or not. Finneus and Shellheart were going to kill him either way. That had been Finneus’s plan from the start. Dean’s fist tightened around the rope. “That slippery eel.”

  Dean stowed the vial and leaped into the water.

  He passed under the water filter and out into the sea, just as he had done earlier that morning. This time, he was not the least bit disoriented when the ride deposited him in a cold stretch of ocean, leagues away from Atlantis. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Finneus and Shellheart there waiting for him, either.

  “Is the fight over already?” Dean asked.

  “I left early,” Finneus replied. “Your friend was losing. It was hard to watch.”

  Dean gritted his teeth.

  “Did you get it?” Shellheart asked.

  Moving slowly and deliberately, Dean produced the vial.

  Finneus’s eyes lit up. “You did! Give it to me!” He swam forward, his hands reaching out, but Dean backed up.

  “Hold it right there.” Dean pressed his thumb against the cork in the vial, applying just enough pressure to let a drop of the sacred blood escape.

  Finneus stopped short. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  Dean wagged a finger. “Not so fast, Finneus. You and I are going to have a little talk first.”

  Chapter 26

  The Great Escape

  “Stay back or I swear I’ll empty every drop of this into the sea.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Shellheart growled.

  “Try me.”

  Finneus froze. “Easy now, Seaborne. Don’t do anything rash,” he said, trying to turn the charm back on. “We’re all in this together. Think of your friends.”

  “I am,” said Dean. “I’m wondering how you plan to kill them after you’re through with me. Quick and easy, or are you going to take your time and have some fun with it?”

  “What?” Finneus was all smiles. “No! Why would I want to . . . ?” His voice cracked mid-sentence. “I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  “Maybe you think I forgot about the last time we were here. After you sent me to kill the queen? You tied me up and threw me to the eels.”

  “That was so you wouldn’t talk! I made a mistake. It’s different now.”

  “Because of this,” Dean said, brandishing the vial. “But tell me something.” Dean held up the rope that he had used to break into Pos
eidon’s Chamber. “The rope you used to tie me up this morning. Why did you have it with you to begin with?”

  Finneus’s smile faded. “What?”

  “The truth is, you were planning to kill me even if I had assassinated the queen,” Dean said. “Don’t bother denying it.”

  Finneus sighed. “I did say you were clever. What do you want?”

  “For starters, I want you to honor our deal. I want out of here. Safe passage to the surface for me and my friends. I also want the gold that Queen Avenel promised us. Otherwise . . .” He grabbed the cork, ready to take the top off and spill out the contents of the vial.

  Shellheart drew his sword. “You open that vial and I’ll run you through without a second thought.”

  “If I hand it over, you’ll do the same thing. Seems to me I might as well.”

  “No!” cried Finneus. He paused and tried to regain his composure. “Enough. You win. Just . . . don’t do anything we’ll all regret.”

  “A bit late for that, don’t you think?” someone asked.

  A black blur streaked through the water toward Dean. Whatever it was grabbed the hook end of Dean’s rope and pulled him away. The violent jerk nearly caused him to lose control of the vial containing the Blood of Poseidon. He tucked it away and held on tight to the rope line. Dean’s first thought was that Finneus or Shellheart had managed to hit him with a sneak attack, but he was moving away from them at a high speed. Dean turned and was shocked to see who had grabbed hold of him.

  “Captain Lyndra?”

  She reached for Dean’s hand and pulled him atop the back of a black manta. “Hang on. You’re coming with me.”

  Once Dean was firmly on board the fish, he looked behind him and saw Finneus and Shellheart shrink from sight. “Where did you come from?” he asked Lyndra.

  She kept her eyes fixed forward, racing back to Atlantis. “Abyssal, originally.”