by J B Black
“I vote the boy can join!” Bill called from the wheel. “And I vote Edward Rowell be our captain once more!”
Raising their fists into the air, the rest of the men quickly agreed that Edward ‘Ned’ Rowell should take captainage of the ship, and the relief on their countenances eased the uncertainty brewing in Bellamy’s gut. If he and the cuff upon his wrist could take on Jonathan Teague and blood-thirsty cursed blade, then he could outrun a king well enough without a giant at his back.
Ned clapped him on the back. “That cuff of yours is useful, but you had the right idea. Cover it up.”
“Yes, sir!” Bellamy replied, quickly pulling down and doing his best to fix his sleeve, but Teague had left it in tatters.
With a sigh, Ned shook his head. “You need new clothes, and I need to know what we’re working with.” He gestured for Bellamy to follow, and the young man fell into the captain’s quick pace. “You walk on a ship well enough, and if you can climb, that’ll have its use. Ever scrubbed a deck?”
“No, sir.”
“I don’t need a ‘sir’ after every answer, Bellamy. Call me Ned,” the older man commanded as he ducked below deck. He found a shirt easy enough beneath one of the bunks, tossing it at the younger man. “That’ll be a bit big, but you’re young, aren’t you? You’ll grow into it.” While Bellamy switched his shirt, Ned pulled out a small kit. “I don’t suppose you know how to sew?”
“Yes, s — yes. I can sew a bit.”
Smiling at the other’s quick correction, Ned handed over the needle and thread. “Fix your shirt and keep it in your bunk. You’ll have that one over there. Thomas left two ports ago, and no one bothered to take his bunk down. How about a canon? You ever fire one? Been around one?”
“They had them up at the garrison, but I only saw them from the wrong end,” Bellamy explained as he buttoned up the new shirt and wrapped the needle and thread in his old shirt. He placed it in the bunk as they walked by it. “I’m decent with a dagger.”
“With that cuff of yours, close combat isn’t what I’d be concerned about,” Ned retorted. He crossed his arms over his chest before going deeper into the belly of the ship. “Our cook can always use a hand with peeling, and the others can teach you to swab well enough. Have you ever made a net?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you live on the streets?”
“Yes.”
Ned frowned. “But you didn’t ever do any net-work by the wharf? What about knots?”
“I know a few, but most of the work I did was in running messages. My father taught me my letters and numbers before he died, and they could pay be less than the boys at the post or the regular runners,” Bellamy explained, hoping he had finally shown some worth, but Ned just set his hands on his hips and muttered something in a language that the younger man did not know. “I’m a quick study, and I won’t make any trouble.”
The look Ned gave suggested he wasn’t convinced, but the man pointed to a collection of empty barrels. “We need to pickle some of the veg before it goes off. You grew up starving, so you know what stretches, don’t you? Clean off the worst of it and do what Cookie tells you.”
“Cookie?” Bellamy glanced around, expecting to see someone, but the man who came ambling into view wasn’t what he expected.
Old and wrinkled, the man had gnarled hands which twisted at points in the wrong direction as if his fingers tried to run away from the tasks he aimed to do. One of his legs was missing below the knee, and there was a length of wood in its place. He hobbled about quickly enough.
“I’ll whip the boy into shape,” Cookie affirmed, and he raised his hand to slap Bellamy on the back, but Ned caught the hand.
“Let’s not take the risk, eh, Cookie?”
Bellamy flushed, but he couldn’t argue. He had no idea how the cuff worked. “Thank you for teaching me.”
Cookie laughed, taking a seat in a small stool as he gestured toward the barrels. “Grab those, boy. Time’s a-wasting!”
Rushing to follow the old man’s command, Bellamy fell into line, not seeing when Ned left, but it was fine. He had a task, and he was one step closer to his goal.
Chapter Four
Artists filled the halls of his castle. Paintings and sculptures took up the once empty halls. Strings of pearls and smoothed glass woven together with thin strands that vanished as the light cascaded across the installation one artist put up in one of the larger halls. Every inch of the castle gleamed, and people gathered around tables, eating and enjoying each other’s company.
This was what Nereus needed. Constantly surrounded, how could he feel lonely? Even those who didn’t want to stay in his castle built their homes around his territory where they saw fit, and the sea god insured everyone found exactly what they needed.
“You’ll run yourself to ruin, my lord,” Preecha hummed, tapping his stylus against his crystal tablet. “The new pod can easily settle without your assistance.”
Nereus’s dark brows furrowed. “Two pods of mermaids were difficult enough considering how nomadic they tend to be, but cecaelia groups are extremely rare! And they’re your family!”
“Distant family.”
“Still, I want to make a good impression. The sand can be difficult to dig in the area Sunan wanted to settle, and his family will be close to the southern border where that island of sirens are,” Nereus explained as he ran his hands over the ground. “It’ll be a nightmare if he wants to go low on this. Maybe we can convince him to build at least half a bubble up?”
“Sunan has constructed many homes for him and his mate. Their children are capable of aiding as well.” Preecha siddled up, blocking Nereus’s view of the offending area. “Now, we need to discuss defensive measures.”
Groaning, the sea god allowed himself to drift, floating back toward his castle nearer the center of his domain. “I can defend us well enough. Nothing but ice to the north. Humans to the west. There’s only three other gods in the region. Rhona has her island southeast of me, and as long as I don’t cause any trouble with the women in this realm — something I have no intention of doing — I won’t have issues with her.”
“Which leaves Mar to the south and Kaito to the east,” Preecha drawled. “As of this morning, your territory has officially expanded to meet Mar’s. Kaito has a few leagues between you, so the pressing matter is —”
Waving his hand, Nereus huffed. “You worry too much!”
Every new citizen increased Nereus’s power, and the territory he accumulated only added to the swell of belief which empowered his already substantial magical abilities. While his rapid increase might have terrified those around him, he made sure to utilize his abilities to aid his people, so he generally hadn’t noticed it. If he could shape the ground and control the weather about his domain and even above, surely he could take on Mar.
Mar held a firm hold on the southern seas, but the god was old and known to isolate himself more so than almost any other god. If the man even knew what the edge of his territory looked like, Nereus would be shocked.
However, as they reached the trench which ran through in his domain, an itch awoke in the back of his mind, and Nereus groaned. It seemed the world wanted to prove him wrong. Another god had entered his territory from the south. There was a chance it was someone else. At times, gods passed through each other’s territories, and some part of Nereus wished the visiting god was one of his siblings.
Unfortunately, his frustrated conclusion proved true. By the time he followed the length down to his castle, Mar arrived. The rival sea god stood like a proud warrior. Gleaming armor covered his broad chest, and his muscular biceps seemed larger than Nereus’s head. Beneath one of those buff appendages, the god carried a helm. In his opposite hand, The man held a trident. His desperation to follow the expectations of mortals instead of his domain exhausted Nereus.
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Nereus offered Mar a bright smile. “Mar! What a wonderful surprise! Preecha was just saying I should in
vite you for a feast.”
Though older, Mar was a handsome enough man. His rose gold curls flowed with the slightest current, and he towered, a muscular behemoth. Stubble lined his square jaw. Nothing in his form explained his desire to hide away in his realm for so long, allowing not just Nereus but other gods to encroach upon the edges of his territory. That wasn’t to say that Mar’s realm was small. He had a decent territory with a coastal edge and a number of small islands which fell within his domain. More intimidating with Mar standing before him, the other god hosted warriors more than anything else. His own dedication to his physical form attracted like-minded beings.
“A feast?” the other’s gray eyes narrowed.
Nereus beamed, drawing closer. “Yes! Of course! I’m sure you recall how exciting and distracting your territory was when you first claimed it, but I have been remiss. I should have done more than the base greeting I sent to you, Kaito, and Rhona.”
Humming, the older god rested the end of his trident into the sand. “You are young.”
“I am! And I’m sure you have so much fantastic advice to give me!” Laying a hand on Mar’s shoulder, Nereus gestured toward his home. “Come inside! There are some wonderful pieces of art that I’d love for you to see. We can east, take, make a treaty —”
Snorting, the older sea god shrugged off Nereus’s hand. “Those who grow quickest have the weakest foundation. Cease expanding. Concentrate on what you have first. That is all the advice you will receive from me.”
Nereus’s smile faltered. Though the words weren’t unexpected, the insult at him and his realm cut him at the ankles. Clucking his tongue, the younger god set his hands upon his hips as he settled upon an outcropping which he drew from the sand of his domain. He glared, keeping his gaze even with the other god.
“Should I focus on my military before art and academia? Here I thought I had found a territory neighbored by those who would respect the right of those of the sea to live where and how they desired,” Nereus drawled, utilizing the same dry bored tone his father often used. Baring his teeth, the dark-haired god growled, “If you are here to threaten me, you will find my foundation unshakeable.”
Upper lip curling, Mar sneered, “Pathetic. Still a godling, thinking your realm serves you. You’re too loose — caught in the capricious sway of your whims.”
Preecha shifted uncomfortably behind Nereus, and sensing his scribe’s discomfort, the younger god ordered, “Return to the castle. Mar and I shall settle this god to god.”
“Yes, my lord.” In a rush of dark tentacles, the cecaelia retreated with only a single backward glance.
Without looking up, Nereus could sense the attention of those who dwelled within his castle. Their conversations died one by one. Their eyes turned to the windows, and the artists who trusted him to keep them safe watched. This would be the first true test of his word. He swore to protect them, and no matter how mighty Mar appeared to be, his territory was smaller, and he stood upon enemy ground beneath enemy waves.
Mar set his helm upon his head, and Nereus smiled, allowing the water to lift him, floating in his trousers and bare feet. He had no need for armor. Mar would not win. In all his armor and his grandeur, the older god would realize his mistake, and he would lose face today. In more ways than one.
“Well?” Nereus beckoned. He held his arms open wide, opening his shirt to show off his lean chest. “You came looking for a fight, didn’t you? If you won’t make peace, I will give you a new reason to hide your face in your castle.”
With a roar, Mar shot forward, propelling himself through the water as riptides formed about his path, but though water moved from one realm to another, lines found themselves drawn all the same. The same tides he summoned turned against Mar, ripping his trident from his hands as Nereus stepped to the side, floating away from the castle. He would not risk any damage to the people or the artwork they had made in the gardens of coral around his home.
“Fight, coward!” Mar yelled.
Nereus laughed, drifting closer and closer to the trench where magma flowed. “I might not look as intimidating as you, Mar, but there is one thing I believe you are forgetting…”
Summoning his trident back to his hand, Mar struggled, slowing as the pull on his weapon fought his forward moment. The struggle already on his massive body made it all the easier for Nereus to sweep the man’s arm behind his body, blocking it from bending until the man had no choice but to go where he led. Mar’s magic shot out, attacking at random, but Nereus easily redirected the attacks, shifting the ground around them with them until he forced the older god over the fires in the trench. There he held him, forcing Mar to sweat.
“Do it!” the older god commanded, struggling but unable to break Nereus’s hold. “Kill me then!”
Nereus laughed, grinning like a feral demon as he set his heel upon the other’s back, stilling his resistance. “I am the son of Death. My sire is Spring — and I know well the rumors of his vengeful nature. All of which, I assure you, are simply the beginning. I am their son, and I am the worst of both put together.”
Shoving Mar down, he grinned as the other god screamed, metal melding to half his face as his helm melted into his skin. Mar would live. Nereus had no intention of gaining a reputation as a god-killer, and with the eyes watching him, he had proof that Mar had attacked first. Victory and mercy. Nereus gained from both.
Before the heat could cause fatal damage, Nereus lifted the man cooling the metal and then ripping the helm, tearing skin from muscle as he kicked Mar southward.
“Retreat and lick your wounds, Mar,” Nereus commanded. He lifted the helm to face him and smirked. “I’ll keep this as my prize. Think of your scar as a reminder to not challenge a hand offered in friendship again.”
Already, Mar healed, but his blood colored the water, and even when his skin returned, discoloration and rough tissue would cover the left side of his face from the inner edge of his brow to his left ear upon a diagonal. Similarly, his left eye fogged. If he did not retreat and get treatment as quickly as possible in his own realm, he would lose the sight in that eye.
“”You’ve made a grave mistake here, godling,” Mar snarled, raising his hand.
When the trident shifted to fly to him, Nereus caught it, shoving the weapon into the trench where it melted to nothing. “There will be no wars on my land. If your next approach isn’t a treaty, I will not show you mercy again.”
Behind him, the artists and scholars in residence at his castle cheered. They waved banners and called out his name, chanting it like an anthem. Turning his back on Mar as the older god retreated with a terrible scowl, Nereus held the helm aloft. Clapping, the watchers laughed.
“Shall I paint your portrait?” one of the mermaids called.
A nymph swooned. “He was twice your size, and you just — I can’t feel my feet! That was so hot!”
Their compliments came so easily, and each one seemed like a prayer, bouying his power higher and higher. He trained with siblings far more ruthless. In the land of the dead, he saw all the tricks men played upon each other to win in the most impossible of circumstances. Mar could have his army. Nereus would have artists and scholars. Philosophers and chefs would make their home in his realm, and they would be all the better for never having to lift weapons to defend their freedom to explore the world and enjoy what life had to offer them. Nereus would be their shield.
As he returned to his castle, Preecha frowned. “Defeat would’ve been hard enough for a man like Mar to swallow. He isn’t someone to stand being laughed at.”
“There are plenty of gods who welcome warriors. Let them gather their armies, and then they will see — my realm will still be greater,” Nereus proclaimed, tossing the half-melted and bloody helm to the cecaelia.
Preecha caught it, frowning as he held it away from him in one tentacle. “He will be back.”
“Let him come.”
“It isn’t prudent to be arrogant,” the scribe grumbled.
; Spinning to face him, Nereus smiled brightly. “That’s how an advisor should sound. I don’t need someone to follow me and write my orders down. I need that!”
“Someone to check your ego?” Preecha huffed, but his lips twitched, curling up at the ends despite his put upon expression.
Nereus threw an arm around the other man’s shoulders, drawing him toward the dining hall. “Exactly! But first, we’ll celebrate that unparalleled victory. I’m strong enough to protect my territory. Let’s celebrate!”
Though those in the hall broke out into cheers, Preecha only shook his head. He could be as dour as he wanted. Nereus won. An older god came, thinking him easy prey, and the black-haired sea god proved himself, winning without question and leaving his mark. There would be letters of invite sent to Rhona and Kaito, noting the incident and finalizing treaties before Mar could call upon them to aid in whatever endeavours he undertook to seek his revenge, but word would spread. The welcome of his realm wasn’t an empty promise.
Chapter Five
Islands confused Nereus. He understood their creation, and the land in the middle of the sea proved useful for a number of magical species — not to mention the interesting wildlife which emerged; however, the dominion of any particular island became a strange toss-up. Some belonged to a single god — like Rhona. She held a rather small island with her wife and their children. It served as sanctuary for many in need, but Rhona didn’t have a set number of inhabitants, and she didn’t seem to desire to expand her territory or increase her powers in any way.
Other island gods formed chains of islands. They would build island after island, expanding their land in often violent means, but those gods mainly kept further south, so Nereus had no reason to speak with them.
Some islands formed naturally, belonging to no one. Those islands could someday become a territory, or they could spend their entire existence as a land unto themselves. Still others belonged to the sea gods who ruled the ocean about them.
