by Jade Kerrion
Varun listened without comment, then returned to his work, which kept him at his desk for days as the Veritas traveled beneath clear skies on calm seas.
His futile work. There was nothing anywhere on the Great Arbiter of Life and Death. Varun’s internet searches came up empty. His online journal and library search delivered nothing. He dragged his hand across his eyes. They stung equally from lack of sleep and from hours of staring at a computer screen.
He turned to Duggae who was napping in a corner of the laboratory on a comfortable mattress made up of his diving suits and lab coats. “Why did you call it Irkalla?”
“Huh?” The gnome blinked. He rubbed his fists over his eyes as he sat up. “What was that?”
“You called the underworld Irkalla. Why not hell, or something else?”
“Because that’s what it’s known as in the First Tongue.”
“Ashe said that—back at Atlantis. She said the inscriptions on the pedestal were in the First Tongue. What is that, exactly?”
“The language spoken by the First People.”
Varun grimaced. “That doesn’t help me get any closer to anything.”
With a huff, Duggae kicked his feet out in front of him. “The First People are exactly what it sounds like. The first people.”
“Adam and Eve?”
“No, not earthborn people. The First People who arrived.”
“Aliens?”
The gnome winced. “You humans are so fond of that word. You use it to instantly erect barriers and walls—”
“Okay, so what exactly are the First People?”
“The ones who arrived, some of whom entered the ocean and eventually evolved into the Beltiamatu—the merfolk.”
Varun frowned, tapping his pen against the metal table. “You said…some. What happened to the others?”
“Don’t know. Maybe they went back.”
“Duggae—”
“What?” The gnome flung out his arms. “It was a really long time ago, and record-keeping was not a priority then. Besides, the two places that might have had those records were Atlantis and Shulim, and both were blasted into melted slag by the Dirga Tiamatu.”
“So no one else knows? Would the elementals know?”
Duggae rolled his eyes. “I am an elemental, and I don’t know.”
“An elder elemental?”
“I am an elder elemental, as is Ashe. She’s two hundred and ninety-seven. You don’t get much older than that in that job. And she was Beltiamatu. If she doesn’t know who the Great Arbiter is, I doubt anyone else does.”
Varun frowned slightly. “What about Medea?”
“The sea witch?”
“You know about her too?”
“We keep a close eye on anomalies.”
Coming from an anomaly, that was rich. “How exactly is she an anomaly?” Varun asked.
Duggae ticked off his fingers as he talked. “Looks like a mermaid, talks like a mermaid, but has lived multiple lifetimes—even by Beltiamatu standards.”
“Does she have a soul?”
The gnome frowned. “I don’t know. I know of Medea, but have never seen her. That’s a good question, though.”
“You’re a welcome change.”
“What?”
“Ashe just gets irritated when I ask questions.”
Duggae shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll get irritated too when I get tired of you.”
“Great.” Varun’s tone was brisk and businesslike. “I wouldn’t want to think you were getting fond of me.”
Duggae’s grin spread into a wide crease on his face, crinkling the laugh lines in the corner of his eyes. “Ashe needs perspective. It’s been a long time since she’s dealt with anything that didn’t instantly obey her. It’s bound to make a woman cranky.”
“But about Medea…if anyone knows, it would be her, right?”
Duggae frowned, then he jerked his chin at the door as it opened.
Varun spun around as Ashe strode in, Jinn perched on her shoulder. The parrot preened. “Hello, pumpkin.” Its sweet tone, and its eyes—focused on Duggae—confirmed to Varun that he was not the focus of the parrot’s affection.
Ashe transferred Jinn, his wing still encased in a cast, onto Duggae’s shoulder. The gnome stroked the long feathers, his habitually cheeky grin softening into gentleness. “You are a pretty little thing.”
Varun watched Duggae. It was easier than watching Ashe, especially when he did not know what to say around her.
Duggae continued stroking Jinn’s feathers as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. He did not look at Ashe when he spoke. “The boy thinks we should speak to Medea.”
Boy…wait, him? Varun frowned, but Duggae continued in that same nonchalant tone. “He thinks that old witch might know something. And he could be right about that. She’s older than any of us.”
Ashe scowled. The water in the holding tanks sloshed restlessly. Jinn squawked on her behalf without the benefit of any finger flicking. “I don’t trust Medea.”
Varun thumped his fist down on his desk. “News flash, Ashe. You don’t trust anyone. You’ve soured on it ever since you lost everything in your ridiculous on-land adventure, but you don’t need to trust me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Varun saw Duggae back away and sit down, taking himself out of the conversation. Lucky gnome.
Unfortunately, backing down was not one of the things Varun did well. He glared at Ashe. “I don’t give a damn about your trust. You just need to agree that we’re interested in solving the same problem—preferably without making anything worse in the process.”
Jinn’s snappy tone matched the bite of the breeze that suddenly swept through the laboratory. “Medea could have talked me out of my damned search for a soul, but no, she pushed me into it. She told me I would find the answers among humans. She gave me the Isriq Genii—the Soul Stealer. Medea wasn’t just an enabler. She instigated it.” Ashe used her finger to encircle her face. “Do you see any trust in here?”
“Medea would have answers.”
“But would you trust anything she tells you?”
“She set you on the path to becoming a water elemental too.”
“It was not a promotion I was looking for.”
“But it allowed you to defeat Zamir,” Varun insisted. “The fact is, you’re the only person who can light two of the five elemental spheres. Maybe you’re the person who’s intended to ignite all five spheres.”
Ashe’s fingernails tapped an irritable rhythm against the table. “What are you rambling about, Varun?”
“Maybe all this happened to set you on your path toward stopping the Arbiter.”
“Destiny?” The wind screamed around Ashe, tossing her hair. Her eyes flashed like glittering gems. “Destiny didn’t get me here. Stupidity did. The blindness of a mother’s love did.”
“The choices that led you here don’t subtract from the greater purpose, if there is one.”
“There isn’t one.”
“Of course there is,” Varun insisted. “It started out—for me—with saving the ocean. And now, it has escalated into uncovering why the Arbiter is doing what she’s doing and stopping it. We need answers. We’re going in blind, Ashe. That’s not a good thing. That’s never a good thing.” Varun wanted to shake some sense into her, but knew better than to try. A hurricane might punch him through the hull of the ship and drown him the ocean. “If the Arbiter is in the underworld, you could have a lot less power than you think when you finally come up against her.” He stared at her. “Talk to Medea, please. Talk to anyone who could help. And take me with you.”
She glared at him. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“We’re on the same side, Ashe. Don’t forget that.”
“My job was to keep you alive while you investigated the ocean. If you stop sticking your human nose where it doesn’t belong, I can get back to more important things—like saving my son from whatever pact he’s made with the Arbiter.�
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Varun glowered at her. “What you are is stubborn. This isn’t a problem for you to solve alone, Ashe.”
“I started it.”
“And it grew because others made choices that compounded it. It’s grown beyond you. It’s going to take more than you to fix it. I’m here to help because it’s my problem too, so let me. Let others—like Medea—help.”
Ashe looked away. Through the portholes, Varun saw the waves toss, inky black against the night sky. He then stared at Ashe’s profile, remote and lovely. He could almost make out what she was thinking. When had that happened? She had seemed utterly inaccessible in the early weeks of knowing her. She drew a deep breath. “We will pass Medea’s lair near the Levantine Sea. You can go diving if you choose.”
“And you’ll come too?’
“You’ll never find your way to Medea if I don’t.”
Chapter 20
The usually clear waters of the Levantine Sea were cloudier than usual, the visibility obscured by the underwater eruption that destroyed Shulim and kicked up vast amounts of magma, rock, and debris. The water was warm, and the currents felt sluggish. Fish were scarce, and even those kept their distance from Ashe and Varun as they dove deeper toward the warren of underwater caves.
Varun swam behind Ashe, without the burden of his diving equipment, kept alive by the bubble of air around his nose and mouth. His thoughts flicked through Ashe’s mind. I would have thought the fish would come closer, seeing how you’re also a water elemental now.
He was getting better at this, Ashe reflected, the gloss of her surprised pleasure tainted by the trained annoyance of her reactions to him. When Varun first learned to communicate telepathically, he was a jumble of public conversation and private thoughts, but he was segmenting them now, revealing one and not the other.
He was adding layers between him and Ashe.
Which was fine, Ashe huffed out a bubble of air. Emotional layers kept people from murdering each other out of irritation. The humans had a saying after all—something about familiarity and contempt.
Ashe?
Varun also had an annoying tendency to never let things lie. He did not back down. He pushed and pushed and nagged and nagged until he got his way.
Were all humans that annoying, or did she get stuck with a defective copy?
Varun kicked hard to close the distance and peered at her face. You okay?
She did not answer that question. Instead, she responded to his first statement. The fish know when things aren’t right. They’re smart enough to stay away.
Unlike humans, you mean? Even his mental voice sounded amused. He glanced down at the ocean floor. This looks familiar.
She nodded and darted down toward the entrance of Medea’s cavern.
How did you first find her?
We’ve always had legends of sea witches, and rumors that they lived here, amid the caves.
They?
I’ve only ever found one. Medea. And I think she found me. This isn’t a particularly impressive cave, until you realize how far in it goes. I was looking around when I felt something.
Something? Like a signal?
I don’t know. Something. She tossed off that word as airily as she could, because she knew her vagueness would annoy the heck out of the scientist in him. I entered the caves and eventually found her. We’re approaching the Big Thing’s lair now. Be quiet.
You know, it needs a name other than Big Thing. That name’s not dignified, let alone scientific.
You can scientifically classify it in your free time. She brushed her hand lightly over what looked like a stalagmite, taller than she was. Be sure you accurately measure the length of its teeth.
Silently, they swam along the winding curves of Big Thing’s serpentine body. If she had not known better, she would have thought they were traveling through a tunnel in an underwater cave. She glanced at the Big Thing’s barnacle-encrusted hide, and her eyes narrowed.
Had those black spots always been there, or had she merely missed them before in the dim light?
It’s amazing, Varun murmured. Its scales are so calcified they even look like rock ridges. How old do you think it is? If I could find a loose scale, I could carbon-date it.
If you could pick it up, sure. Up ahead, a small grotto gleamed with light. She peeked in and saw Medea, where she always was, seated amid a bed of sea shells. The witch’s long gray hair swayed around her wizened face and her shrewd, colorless eyes.
The relief Ashe felt surprised her. Somehow, she had feared the old sea witch would not be there.
“You have returned, Asherah.” Medea’s melodic voice blended with the soft movement of water. “But you have not found what you sought.”
Ashe ignored the question. What do you know of the Arbiter?
Medea’s eyelashes flickered. “The Great Arbiter of Life and Death, Goddess of the Underworld. It is said that the Beltiamatu—the ancient Beltiamatu—worshipped her.”
I’ve never heard that.
“The Beltiamatu are known, literally, as the Lords of the Abyss, and the abyss is her realm.”
The Beltiamatu worship nothing.
“Everyone worships something, whether you realize it or not. Before the Beltiamatu became enamored with their own power, they worshipped the Arbiter. She was imprisoned, and now…”
Then you know that Zamir unleashed the Dirga Tiamatu on Krakatoa to free her. Why didn’t you tell me?
“You did not ask, and it did not matter.”
What else haven’t you told me?
“I have told you everything that matters right now.”
Ashe glared at Medea. You are not being helpful.
“And helpfulness is something you pride yourself on?” Medea retorted with surprising asperity. “You wanted to search a prince’s library for the secret of souls, so I provided you with legs. Zamir wanted to know how to free you from your obligation to the Daughters of Air, so I sent him to Atlantis to consult the sphere.”
He…wanted to free me? Ashe’s heart thudded, its rhythm erratic. And you sent him there? Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you’ve had a hand in creating?
“I provide answers to questions, Asherah. Perhaps you should consider the possibility that you and Zamir have been asking the wrong questions.”
Fine. How’s this for the right question? How do I stop the Arbiter from destroying the oceans and the land?
“Unleash the power of the Sphere of Elements.”
And how do I do that?
“You already know how. Trigger each of the five elemental realms that power the sphere.”
Yes, but no one person can trigger all five elements.
“Not yet…”
Ashe frowned. Zamir said the Arbiter knows who I am.
“Does she?”
How could she? I was a mermaid, who became a Daughter of Air. I know I’ve made some stupid decisions, but I’ve done nothing extraordinary in that time. Why would she know me?
Medea’s shoulders moved in a graceful, dismissive shrug. “Perhaps it’s not what you’ve done, but what you’re going to do…”
Ashe folded her arms across her chest. What else could I do? I began the cascade of events that escalated into the destruction of Shulim.
“And is that the worst that could have happened?”
She stiffened. Wasn’t it? The Beltiamatu empire centered in Shulim, its fearsome technology powered by the aether core. There were merfolk settlements scattered across the world’s oceans and seas, but they were small, rural communities, much more akin to the merfolk of legend—simple, peaceful, and beautiful creatures of the sea. Without the central authority of Shulim, the far-flung merfolk settlements would be even more isolated and vulnerable to complete annihilation. “Within generations, the Beltiamatu could be extinct.”
Medea snorted. “Beltiamatu generations run longer than humans, but I don’t think you have to wait that long. The Great Arbiter of Life and Death has not regained her full power, but she
is close to succeeding. The ocean will succumb first, then the land. It has already begun.”
Big Thing?
The sea witch nodded. “The small creatures die quickly. The large ones sicken, and through them, pestilence spreads. It has reached into the deep and stirred the great primordial beasts.”
Ashe translated Medea’s words for Varun, and he too stiffened. What exactly are these primordial beasts?
“When the Beltiamatu first took to the oceans, they set out to conquer it,” Medea said.
Varun blew out a flurry of bubbles, which fanned across his face. Why am I not surprised?
Ashe nudged him, but his low, resonant chuckle was like music in her mind, oddly calming in spite of the hackles raised by Medea’s words. He closed the distance between them and placed his hand against her lower back, his presence comforting.
Frail human though he was, Varun had obviously decided that she was not going to have to deal with the insanity she had unleashed on her own.
He asked endless questions, but it was always with the intention of understanding facts and arming himself to deal with the situation. Who else, other than Varun, had stood beside her without judging her?
The ache in her chest stole her breath.
Just one other person—
And he had died for her. Because of her.
Ashe straightened; her chin lifted against the gentle current combing through her hair. Not again. Never again.
Had she tried to move away from Varun? Perhaps she did. His fingers tightened briefly against her waist before letting go.
But when he did, she choose not to move. Water rippled against her shoulder, moving with his breath. Was it stubbornness or contrariness that kept her at his side? She did not know, and perhaps it did not matter. Medea was right—far more was at stake—and Varun was right, too—it had escalated beyond her ability to handle. She did not know, though, if a human, an earth elemental, and an air and water elemental would be enough to reverse the damage unleashed on the Earth, and on the ocean.
At some point, there was no turning back, and she did not know if that crossroad lay before her or behind her.
