Fire Heart (The Titans: Book One) (47 page)

“The City is clear,” Serah said. “The upper levels, at least.”

“Borbos will be utilizing the services of the lower denizens, I think,” Feothon replied, “so we need not worry about them.”

He stood then, and for a time he was silent as the wind whipped his red-gold hair to and fro. His heart thudded in his chest, but its pace was even, steady. He was unafraid.
Could this be the day?
he wondered.
Has my time finally come?

The sun sparkled off of the waves and glinted in the wake drawn by the Leviathan's body. Two hundred and ninety-seven ships followed their lead, and countless men and women stood ready to die in the name of a man most of them had not even met.
But I have met him, and he is a man worth dying for.
A smile ghosted across Feothon's lips, and he closed his eyes and extended his consciousness. An ocean of life stretched out before him like countless glowing points of light. He reveled in their warmth, basking in the radiant glow of their vitality.

And down below the waves, moving steadily toward the bottom, were two lights that outshone even the Leviathan's mighty glow. A third flickered erratically next to them, its glow waxing as quickly as it waned.
Hers is getting clearer,
he thought.
Her time has almost come.

Imprisoned beneath the waves for all time: that was to be the Behemoth's fate. Defeated by the Leviathan, it sank to the deepest, darkest crevice of the sea. But a Titan's gift, once given, can never be repealed. Beros knew that the Great Devourer would persist until all the waters of the ocean disappeared, and so with the help of the Fire Hearts he gave birth to its jailer—the Sea Spirit, a being part Beros, part Koutoum, and part something else. Its power would keep the Behemoth in an endless slumber, never to awaken again.

But Keth's madness was far from over: with one of the three Deaths gone, all of his rage fell to the other two. The Black Fortress, until then merely a blight upon the land, awoke to its full potential.

~

Breathe...

Breathe...

Breathe...

She did.

The sea was overpoweringly salty, so much so that she gagged and coughed and nearly lost her breakfast; but during her fit some of the water found its way into her lungs—and suddenly she
could
breathe. Her eyes widened with surprise as she exhaled slowly, and rather than air a stream of warm water flowed past her lips. She inhaled; cool water flowed in.

And she could no longer taste the sea; it was as though the only thing touching her tongue was air. It felt natural, like something she had done every day of her life.

Amazing,
she thought.

Clare?

It was not just a word, but a barrage of images so intensely vivid that she reeled as though from a physical blow. She saw herself in the forest where she had first met Will; in Prado, bleeding and burning; in the Dark Forest, her body being carried away on a bed of moving plants. The montage caught her completely by surprise and she jerked her head around. Her hair lagged behind, floating across her eyes and obscuring her vision for a brief moment, and then it drifted back like a curtain to reveal Will. He floated a short distance in front of her, his skin and armor dappled light and dark by the choppy sunlight from above.

Can...can you hear what I'm thinking?
she wondered, and Will winced. She realized that what had happened to her had most likely just happened to him. The idea of someone being able to read all of her most private thoughts was rather discomforting.

No,
said his voice in her mind, and she was bombarded by another flurry of images of herself.
Just when you talk in your head.

Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. The strange mental images, however, were another matter entirely. Did they show everything that was going through the speaker's mind at that moment, or just the most prominent thoughts? She hoped it was the latter.
Though, on the other hand,
she thought,
maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.
It would be easier to explain how I feel...

Er...what?
Will's eyes squinted as though he were in pain, and then he looked at her in confusion. She was grateful that the sudden redness in her cheeks would not show below the surface of the sea.

I—nothing. Sorry,
she stammered, and then laughed at the idea of mentally stammering. Her mirth came out as a dull, muted burble, and a long stream of bubbles escaped her lips to float lazily to the surface.
Where is Borbos?
she asked, suddenly aware that the Titan had not yet accompanied them.

I'm not sure,
Will answered, looking around slowly. For a moment she saw from his perspective the mermaid's kiss, and then felt Borbos' boot in her back as though he were actually there behind her. She shook her head dazedly.

Will looked down then, and when his gaze rose a moment later his eyes were full of surprise. This time when he spoke, she did not experience the barrage of images but rather a feeling of giddy excitement that was not her own.
Clare...do you realize that we're floating?

She looked down, then up, then down again, and almost laughed. They
were
floating. Somehow, despite their armor and weapons, their bodies refused to sink. And when she raised her arms experimentally in front of her, she felt a new sense of power; her movements, though still comparatively sluggish, were strangely strong and swift. It was as though she had been born beneath the waves.
The mermaid's gift,
she thought.

This is incredible,
Will said, and she heard him give a burbling laugh as he somersaulted backwards, his body moving as gracefully as a fish. That giddy feeling coursed through her again and she grinned back at him. When he righted himself, though, his eyes focused on something just over Clare's shoulder and the smile on his face died away.

She whirled around, the word “Fallen” flashing through her mind, and in one fluid motion she drew her sword. Heard through the filter of water in her ears, the scrape of metal as she pulled it from its scabbard was oddly dull—and drowned out completely an instant later by a deafening moan that made her drop her sword and clap her hands over her ears. The blade flashed in the muted light from the sun as it spun away into the blackness below, but she paid it little heed.

Her attention was, at that moment, focused solely on the thing in front of her—a creature so massive that it could only have been the Leviathan. What she had seen on the surface had been, she now realized, only a fraction of the beast's body. It was so vast, in fact, that she could not see the entire thing—much of its bulk disappeared into the distance as it was swallowed up by the sea, though the sapphire water was quite clear so far from the shore.

What she could see, though, was perhaps the strangest thing she had ever laid eyes on. From its shelled back and armored leg, she had painted a mental picture resembling an enormous crab or lobster. This, however, was not entirely the case.

Part crab, part whale, and part something else, its body was a freakish, craggy-skinned amalgamation of parts that should not have fit together and yet managed somehow to do it quite beautifully. It was at once both terrifying and strangely majestic, a creature that did not belong in Clare's world. It was too great, too powerful, a god among the denizens of the deep that should have dwarfed even Borbos' might. Clare had a difficult time believing that it was
his
servant, and not the other way around.

And then its many gargantuan fins soared through the water, buffeting her with turbulence even from so far away and sending her spinning madly so that she lost her sense of direction. She caught a fleeting glimpse of its armored tail as it retreated through the waves, and then it was gone, its body moving impossibly fast for such a titanic creature.

When she righted herself a moment later, Will's voice in her head was accompanied by a sensation of dumbstruck awe.
That,
he thought,
was incredible.

She looked around, momentarily disoriented, and found that he was now floating upside down above her. And then she realized that it was not him, but
she
who was upside down. She looked down—or up, rather—and saw the sunlight at her feet. She quickly righted herself and could not help but laugh, her mirth manifesting as another stream of bubbles.

Enjoying yourselves?
asked a new, deep voice in Clare's mind, and she recognized it as Borbos'. Rather than the images or mind-numbing sensations, however, she experienced only one muted feeling: complete, total peace. The instant it touched her thoughts she felt her entire body relax, calmed by the endless sea of serenity that Borbos emanated. She looked around and saw, down below and out of the corner of her eye, a dark shadow that seemed to move against the natural flow of the ocean. When she turned to look at it, however, it melded back into the inky depths so that she was unsure whether she had actually seen it at all.

...Borbos?
she thought hesitantly.
Where are you?

He laughed in her head, and then the shadow detached itself from the darkness and soared up to her, its body slowly taking on definition until the Lord of the Sea hovered a short distance away from her. His whole body seemed different—insubstantial, as though he had become part of the water.
Like the way Serah can melt back into the air,
she noticed.

Yes,
Borbos replied, and she realized that she had unintentionally projected her thoughts again.
And if you wish to guard your mind,
he added wryly,
ask the merfolk for assistance.

Clare looked around, expecting to see the strange fish people, but there was nothing.
But I don't see—

And then, out of the corner of her eye, she again saw a shadow. No, not a single shadow,
dozens
of shadows all around her, all drifting silently and motionlessly. To her the sea had always seemed an endless thing—vast beyond comprehension, so unfathomably enormous that her mind refused to wrap itself around the idea of its size. Now, beneath the waves, she realized that even her past impressions had been wrong. The sea did not only stretch from horizon to horizon, but seemingly down to the very core of Pallamar itself. Everywhere she looked she saw water, and with the sunshine playing its rays across the sea distance was impossible to estimate.

And everywhere she looked, she could see the wavering shadows of the merpeople.

The effect was eerie, and she shivered despite the warmth of the ocean water. Then when they began to materialize, like an army marching through a morning fog, she saw that she had been wrong—there were not dozens, but
hundreds
of merfolk, each swimming silently toward her with grim-faced resolve. They carried tridents and spears, and what looked like the underwater equivalent of crossbows. Some wore strange armor crafted from what appeared to be kelp and bone. Like Borbos' corsairs the merfolk were a mismatched bunch, but they had at least one thing in common: each had the cold, murderous look of one who has had everything taken from them. Clare knew that look well. She had worn it for a long, long time after leaving Dahoto.

But there was something else as well. Clare had thought the mermaids beautiful on the surface; but down beneath the waves, in their natural environment, they were positively enchanting. Their hair flowed around them like strands of kelp, and their muscled bodies cut through the water as easily as any fish. Skin that had been pale above now shimmered silver in the light and faded to a shadowy grey in the dark. Even with their weapons and armor and chilling glares they managed to hold onto their beauty. Had Clare been breathing air, it would have taken her breath away.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around, the water rushing in her ears. A young mermaid drifted behind her, a smile on her shy face, and Clare saw clasped in the girl's pale hands the sword she had dropped only a short while before. She held it out to Clare, who smiled and took it, inclining her head respectfully.

Thank you,
Clare thought as she sheathed the blade with a dull click.

Liliuboro mbulaia,
said a woman's voice in her head, and the words, though incomprehensible, reminded Clare instantly of the sound of underwater bubbles. They were accompanied by a wave of pleased happiness. Then the mermaid held a new object out to Clare—a necklace made of kelp and black pearls. Clare reached out tentatively to take it.

For me?
she wondered, and the mermaid giggled, the sound muffled by the water.

Balaiir moroboro mbeleu.
An image of Clare donning the necklace flashed through her mind, and the mermaid gestured excitedly at it as Clare inspected it more closely. Despite having been crafted from kelp, the necklace did not feel slimy or cold. Rather, it felt almost...dry. Warm and dry and soft, like linen left out in the sun. She looked up in surprise, and the mermaid gestured again to the necklace, and then gently tapped Clare's temple.

She draped it over her head, shivering slightly as the jewelry drifted slowly across her hair and settled around her neck. She looked at the mermaid, who smiled at her.

Mubalu lumaaaaaan you understand me?

Clare jerked in surprise, and her eyes widened. Had the mermaid just spoken to her?

Yes, it was me,
came the reply, and the mermaid bubbled a laugh.
Your reactions are always the same. Tell me, how does the bihirit feel?

Clare tensed for the inevitable assault of images or feelings, but strangely they never came.
Um...what?
she said after a moment.
The necklace?

Yes. It is called a bihirit.
The mermaid gently brushed her fingers across one of the pearls.
Gifts from the Sea Spirit himself. We all wear them.
She indicated her own throat, and Clare saw that there was indeed an identical necklace resting against the woman's pale flesh.
All who venture into Beros' kingdom must wear one; any who do not risk his wrath. For those not of the water tribe, though, they hold special power. They stop the thoughtstorms, which is good because it used to drive humans mad. But tell me, how does it feel?

Uh...
Clare shrugged.
It feels...warm? And soft? I don't know, should I be feeling any different?