Cursed Legacy: Lord of the Ocean #3

by Kerrion, Jade;

  But he had set both the Dirga Tiamatu and the Dalkhu Libbu on a collision path—with the Tiamat between them.

  The Tiamat, the celestial dragon slain by Inanna and given new life through the amalgamation of adamantine, orichalcum, and aether, soared over the planet, its wings spread, its serpentine head turned toward Aldebaran.

  The Dalkhu Libbu, heart-shaped and as hideous in its afterlife as it had been in life, smashed into the Tiamat’s chest.

  The impact shook both ships, hurtling Arman to the floor. The world twisted and spun around him as he struggled to rise, but the floor was slippery with his blood.

  Ereshkigal’s voice, then Inanna’s, rang through the bridge, shouting his name, demanding to know what was happening.

  He couldn’t respond. The blood filling his throat and lungs made it impossible to speak. He crawled onto his knees. His view was almost entirely blocked by the Tiamat, but in a corner of the vast window frame, flames burst out of the planet’s blue-green surface.

  A geyser of blood, anger, and vengeance.

  The Tiamat veered sharply aside.

  Instead of plunging like a stake through the celestial dragon’s heart, the highly pressurized blast of molten iron and rock from the Earth tore through Tiamat’s wing, blasting apart one of its two engines.

  The Tiamat reeled, but it could still fly. Still escape.

  It demanded a final strike to take it out.

  Arman slammed his hand down on the control panel, and the Dalkhu Libbu twisted slowly in space.

  He flung the last of his strength into his ship, and it accelerated toward the Tiamat’s other wing. He glanced up as the Dalkhu Libbu passed beneath the Tiamat’s head. Marduk was on the bridge, staring down at him—

  Or perhaps he imagined it…

  Perhaps he imagined Marduk because he wanted to see the man he had considered his brother one last time.

  A glance was all they had left. There was no time for apologies, explanations, or farewells.

  The Dalkhu Libbu rammed into the fragile junction where the Tiamat’s other wing connected with the cargo bay—shattering the former, tearing through the latter. Within the Tiamat’s hull, the massive stores of aether glowed, purple and serene, unaware that their celestial dragon transport no longer soared toward the stars.

  The explosion of the Tiamat’s engines blasted against the Dalkhu Libbu’s adamantine hull, but the explosion was not the reason for the Dalkhu Libbu’s free fall. Arman’s thoughts, too scattered and too weak, unraveled from the ship’s controls. Unable to correct itself, the Dalkhu Libbu plunged as the planet’s gravity took control.

  Arman stared up through the viewport as his vision faded into black. The Tiamat was falling toward the Earth too, both engines crippled. Its trajectory took it toward the other side of the planet. Arman watched the dying dragon until darkness crept fully over his vision, extinguishing it forever.

  He was still alive when the Dalkhu Libbu struck the Earth, and he was alive when the planet groaned from the far-away impact of the Tiamat. He should not have felt it—it was too far away—but the planet reeled from the Tiamat’s impact, as if alerted to its precious cargo of aether, now spilled upon the still-warm surface of the Earth.

  Arman lay, his heartbeat slowing, his breath weakening until there was hardly anything left but the thinnest thread of life.

  It was then that her arms gathered him up and drew him close. Her fingers pressed gently against his injuries as if she could stop the bleeding.

  I’m sorry, he wanted to tell Ereshkigal. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop Marduk without destroying the Tiamat and the Dalkhu Libbu. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay beside you as I promised.

  “We know the truth of what happened. Inanna is on the Tiamat. She is dealing with Marduk,” Ereshkigal said, fierce hate in her voice. “He will have a long time to regret his decisions. And you, my love.” Tears muffled her words. “Your body is too broken to save, but your soul will live forever with me. You will never be alone. Never forgotten.” Her lips brushed against his. “Come now and be with me.”

  And with a touch, Ereshkigal drew all that was left of Arman—his soul, that final spark of awareness—out of his body. The faint glimmer of light around him winked out into absolute blackness.

  Chapter 25

  Zamir’s eyes flashed open. The first thing he saw was Ginny’s face, then Kai and Jacob. All three anxiously watched him—as if he were a stranger to them.

  And in a way, he still was.

  Zamir drew a deep breath, but could not dispel the intimate coldness of death. He clenched his fists, as if the motion would anchor him, warm him.

  It did not.

  Arman was too close.

  Zamir had, himself, opened the door. He had awoken Arman’s dormant soul and let the first commander in.

  He did not think he would ever fully be just himself again, although in hindsight, he should have never expected it to be just fully himself. He was, after all, a psychic and physical chimera. His breath expelled in a rush. “I know why Marduk is going to Oregon. I know what’s in the mountains.”

  “Besides aether?” Ginny asked.

  “The Tiamat, the ship Marduk commanded, was carrying all the aether when it crashed into the planet. That aether rooted where it landed, which means that the Tiamat is there still. In those mountains.”

  Ginny frowned. “The Tiamat?”

  “The great celestial dragon. Inanna killed it, then from its bones fashioned a starship.”

  Ginny’s eyes narrowed into slits. “First the Dalkhu Libbu, then the Tiamat. Does Inanna always make starships from her trophies? She needs counseling.”

  “Marduk was trying to take the Tiamat and its stores of aether back to Aldebaran. I…” Zamir hesitated. “Arman stopped him, but the battle crash-landed both ships on Earth—the Dalkhu Libbu in the northern reaches of Asia, and the Tiamat in North America. Arman…died, and Marduk…”

  “Inanna got to him, and it wasn’t pretty,” Ginny surmised with astonishing accuracy. “That’s how he landed up entombed in adamantine. Another one of Inanna’s trophies.”

  Zamir nodded.

  Ginny reached for his hand, her gesture absentminded, but it anchored in a way he could not anchor himself. “So all those ancient myths about Marduk battling Tiamat and shattering her body upon the Earth is actually, literally, true, except that he wasn’t battling Tiamat. He was on the Tiamat.” She shook her head, a faint smile on her lips. “I never imagined before to look for literal truth in all those stories. You have no idea how much this is going to change the way we think about all those lost civilizations.”

  Kai interrupted. “What happened to the Tiamat when it landed?”

  “I don’t know,” Zamir said. “Both its engines in its wings were disabled. That’s why it crashed.”

  “Why would Marduk seek out a crippled starship?” Kai asked.

  “Because he has Badur, and Badur is carrying aether,” Jacob spoke up for the first time. “Can the aether core Badur is carrying repair the Tiamat?”

  “Almost certainly,” Ginny said immediately. “I used aether to fix the engines on the Endling.”

  “But Badur is Beltiamatu. He can only carry aether. He can’t actually direct it,” Kai said.

  “Marduk would not return to the Tiamat if he didn’t think he could somehow get it into the air…” Zamir’s words trailed into silence. His thoughts churned. “The Tiamat is a living ship, like the Dalkhu Libbu. It’s attuned to Marduk in the same way to Dalkhu Libbu is attuned to me. Given enough resources and time, the Tiamat can repair itself.”

  Kai straightened. “Could Marduk have ordered the Tiamat to repair itself before Inanna got to him?”

  “He would have,” Zamir said. “I would have. The repairs would not have been completed before Inanna seized Marduk, but by now, they almost certainly would be.”

  “So the Tiamat is space-worthy—and we have nothing with which to pursue it into space?” Kai asked.

  �
�Nothing.” Zamir shook his head. “The Dalkhu Libbu has not been repaired. It cannot take off.”

  “And I don’t think we can get NASA to lend us a space shuttle, not that it would do any good,” Ginny spoke up. “It’s not as if any of those shuttles are equipped with any weapons.”

  “Then we have to stop Marduk before he takes the Tiamat where we cannot follow,” Zamir said. “He’ll use his auxiliary engines to raise the Tiamat off the ground, but we have to reach him before he fires his main engines to break past the Earth’s gravitational field. The energy from his main engines will ignite the aether in the Tree of Life, and take out half the planet.”

  Jacob drew a deep, shaky breath. “I know just how to do that.” A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I have to make a call. Lots of calls…”

  * * *

  The plan was already in motion when Ginny finally abandoned the controlled chaos of the bridge where Jacob and Zamir debated strategy and tactics.

  Her mind whirred. Her emotions churned.

  She needed the quiet of her cabin.

  Kai was fast asleep in the cabin she usually used, so she went to the other cabin instead. She sank down on the lower bunk—Zamir’s bed. He probably wouldn’t mind. He never actually used it.

  She didn’t think she had seen him sleep.

  Ever.

  Must be neat. How much could she accomplish if she weren’t sleeping away a third of her life?

  All those papers I could be grading. I could even catch up completely.

  Ginny sighed as she allowed herself to fall back on the pillow. Her life as a college professor seemed so far away—

  Her head thunked against something hard beneath the pillow. Grimacing, Ginny twisted onto her elbow and yanked the pillow away.

  An orichalcum-glass covered case gleamed. The cabin’s dim light reflected off Ashe’s black scale necklace and the soul-stealing dagger Isriq Genii.

  She had forgotten that Zamir had found the case in Medea’s cave. Its contents raised endless questions and unanswered speculations as to how the items—last seen on the Dalkhu Libbu—had landed up in the abode of the sea witch.

  Ginny ran her fingers over the smooth glass surface and pressed against a faint indentation. Nothing happened. But what if…

  She glanced at the wall that separated her cabin from Kai’s. If she were quick…

  A sliver of aether, thinner than a strand of hair, slipped between the chest and the lid, popping it open.

  She held her breath when Kai inhaled sharply, the sound audible even through the walls, but it faded into silence instead of escalating into gasps of agony. Ginny allowed herself a faint smile. She had been fast enough, and the case was open.

  Ginny raised the lid. The dagger’s hilt was plain, its subtly curved blade inscribed with runes in—her eyes narrowed—almost Sumerian.

  Sumerian and the First Tongue were similar enough for her to make an educated guess as to the words, but if she were hoping for instructions, she was out of luck. The inscriptions were akin to a battle hymn—“death to all those who dare oppose us” kind of stuff.

  Just the kind of thing a vengeful Inanna might carve on a dagger while fleeing into exile.

  No clues then, Ginny sighed, but according to Inanna, the dagger was the only way to kill an Illojim. Ashe had used it to kill Nergal the first time, and she might have succeeded if the dagger were not attuned to deliver the soul of its next victim to Zamir.

  The dagger’s soul-stealing powers had allowed Nergal to survive long enough to rebuild his psyche across different physical bodies.

  But now that the dagger had fulfilled its curse and was once again a free agent, the soul of its next victim, presumably, would be sent into the afterlife instead of to someone else’s body.

  It would finish Nergal.

  Permanently.

  A muscle twitched in Ginny’s cheek as she tightened her hand around the hilt of the Isriq Genii. She would have to carry the dagger with her. Just in case.

  Just in case…what?

  She recoiled from the sour curdle of the truth. Her stomach pitched with nausea.

  Nergal was no less a threat than Marduk, but Nergal’s soul was in Zamir.

  How could she ever bring herself to strike—and kill—the man she was growing to love?

  Chapter 26

  The F-15E Strike Eagle raced over the state of Oregon at speeds just under Mach One. In the pilot’s seat, Zamir moved his hands effortlessly, almost intuitively over the complicated console. Even without the sonic boom, the sound of the fighter jet soaring over cities and towns must surely have drawn the attention of people on the ground.

  What did the humans think?

  And just how influential was Jacob Hayes?

  Three phone calls. That was all it had taken to shut down the airspace over the Blue Mountains and most of Oregon, and secure a fighter from the Portland Air National Guard Base. The base commander himself had stood by the jet as Zamir tugged the helmet over his head. “This is a thirty-million-dollar war machine,” the colonel said, shouting to be heard over the roar of other jet engines nearby. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Zamir didn’t, but Jackson did. There was a certainty, even a familiar kind of comfort that came from being back in the pilot’s seat. He did not question or doubt the trained reflexes executing a preflight check. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “But what about your weapons systems officer?”

  Zamir chuckled, the sound without humor. “He’s a fast learner.” Zamir glanced over his shoulder at Kai whose eyes were concealed behind the darkened visor. His grandson’s lips, however, were pressed in a straight line.

  No question, Kai was not thrilled about the concept of taking to the air.

  But what choice did he have?

  What choice did either of them have?

  Kai had remained silent through takeoff, and he did not speak until the jet leveled out. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked softly.

  Not softly enough that Zamir could not hear the edge of quiet fear in Kai’s voice. “Don’t touch anything.”

  Kai drew a shaky breath. “How do humans endure these small spaces?”

  Zamir grimaced. The last time Kai had been trapped in an enclosed space, he had been a prisoner of the cult of Ishtar, and tortured nearly to death. Perhaps Kai wasn’t the best person to bring along, especially considering his increasingly frequent transformations.

  But Zamir trusted Kai in a way he trusted no one else, except Ginny.

  And Kai was Zamir’s best chance of getting both his son and the aether core back, alive, and unscathed.

  “We’re coming up over the Blue Mountains.” Zamir deliberately ignored Kai’s question. There was no need to dwell on Kai’s fears. His grandson was resilient enough to handle them on his own, especially when his attention was focused on the future instead of the past.

  Kai looked out of the narrow window. “And all that is aether?”

  “Most of it.”

  Kai was silent for a moment, then he asked. “Can you fly higher?”

  “I’ll circle around. Why? What do you see?”

  “Something…but I can’t say for sure.”

  Zamir twisted the fighter jet into a sleek turn. The countryside flashed beneath them. He looked down and drew in a sharp breath.

  “Do you see it too?” Kai asked.

  Zamir nodded. The scarcely visible outline of a dragon, massive wings outspread, imprinted upon the mountainside. “Tiamat…”

  “How could no one have seen this before?” Kai wondered aloud.

  “They never flew high enough, and they were never looking for it,”

  “So it’s still there…the great celestial dragon buried under the Tree of Life?”

  “The aether it carried must have spilled out, infusing the fungi in the ground around it, transforming the fungi, causing it to sprawl across thousands of acres.”

  Ginny’s voice warbled over the radio. “So you’ve found
Tiamat? Any sign of Marduk?”

  “Not yet. I’m sending you the coordinates for the dragon’s head.” Zamir tapped the control panel, guided by knowledge that used to be Jackson’s.

  “Got it here,” Jacob acknowledged tersely.

  “Anything on the ground?” Zamir asked.

  “No,” Ginny confirmed, “but we spoke to the park rangers. They confirmed that three people matching Marduk, Ondine’s, and Badur’s description entered the park yesterday. Jacob and I found the video footage from their security cameras. They came through about thirty-six hours ago. They should have reached the Tree of Life within two hours. So where are they?”

  “It’s a big area to search, and the dragon is at the center of the tree, so it’s several hours more of driving,” Zamir said. “Even so, they should have reached the dragon’s head by now, where the starship’s bridge is located. How far are you?”

  “No more than twenty minutes from the coordinates you radioed over,” Ginny said. “We can see you doing loops overhead.” The radio crackled into static, then Ginny’s shout of alarm, “What was—?”

  Kai’s whisper was scarcely audible, stricken with disbelief and awe. “The dragon has awakened.”

  Zamir swung the fighter jet into a tight loop.

  Far below them, the outline of the dragon blurred.

  The dust of millennia fell away like waterfalls cascading from the sides of the ship. Adamantine, obscured by layers of soil, once again gleamed in the sunlight.

  Zamir drew his breath in sharply. The Tiamat was not just beautiful, and not just massive. Its stores of aether were gone, spilled from its once broken hull, but it was once again whole, its shattered engines and cargo hull repaired.

  It was space-worthy.

  The incandescent purple light in its eyes confirmed it.

  Soaring to the west, Tiamat’s wings flapped and spread as if it were a living, breathing dragon, as fluid and organic in its second life as a creature of adamantine and orichalcum, powered by aether.