Oceanborne (31 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Oceanborne
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“Not exactly.” Rhiannon chuckled. “We do pick up your transmissions. How else would we know so much about your world?”
Elena and Morwena hurried after Rhiannon into a small library. In the center of the room, someone had mounted half of a large seashell on a marble pedestal. The shell held clear liquid of some kind, and an image flickered on the surface. Elena heard a man with a British accent say, “… live from the island of Crete …”
“Look.” Rhiannon pointed to the screen. The picture was wavy, but Elena could make out the reporter and several people standing at the edge of a harbor. Behind and around them shattered remains of boats, shops, and homes lay on a flattened beach.
“… An American hero,” the reporter said, thrusting a microphone at a man in cut-off shorts and a ball cap that read
RETHYMO IS FOR LOVERS
in Greek.
Elena stared. It was Greg Hamilton. And standing beside him were her associates, Irene and Hilary, and a blond woman that she didn't recognize.
“Yes, well, it was pretty evident that people would die if someone didn't take charge,” Greg said. “And … when the earthquake hit … I … I …”
The blonde slipped neatly in front of Greg and addressed the camera. “My husband was magnificent,” she cooed.
“Her husband?” Elena echoed.
“Shh,” Morwena hushed her. “Listen to what they're saying.”
“People were panicked, running, screaming,” the blonde exclaimed.
The cameraman zoomed in on her pretty American face and revealing T-shirt as, clutching Greg's hand, she continued her dramatic tale.
“The hotel was coming apart around us. Walls were falling, and fire had broken out below us. Some guests and employees tried to take the elevator, and Greg stopped them. Greg led them all out, everyone from our floor. He saved my life as well as all of theirs.”
The reporter tried to resume control of his news spot, but the well-endowed blond woman flashed a smile at the camera and kept talking. “He's Greg Hamilton from Texas in the United States. We were married just before the earthquake struck and on our honeymoon.”
“Were you acquainted with Dr. Elena Carter, head of the expedition …” Static rippled the images and garbled the words, but Elena saw her own smiling face flash across the screen again. The photo was a couple of years old, but not bad.
“Dr. Elena Carter, respected academic and underwater archeologist, led the team to Crete where they were investigating a …” More interference marred the reception and broke off the reporter's words. A few seconds later, the picture firmed and they heard him say, “With Dr. Carter missing and presumed dead, the university has canceled the project and …”
There was static, an erratic picture, and then Greg and his new wife appeared again. She was speaking. “… understandably saddened by Dr. Carter's death. My husband has generously offered to fly Dr. Hilary Walden back to Texas with us on his private jet.”
More scenes of the destruction on Crete and several other locations followed, as well as an estimated death toll. Elena felt numb. Greg had given her an engagement ring and then—within hours—had married some woman that Elena hadn't known existed.
It was all she could do not to laugh. Not only had she survived an earthquake and a tidal wave, she'd barely escaped being the wife of the biggest ass in Texas. Not that she would have agreed to marry him. She wouldn't have. Orion or no Orion, she'd made that decision while Greg had walked away from her at the harbor.
“They think you're dead,” Morwena said.
“Maybe I am.” Elena gazed at her. “Maybe I died and this is all some sort of dream … or another dimension.”
“Hardly a dream to us,” Rhiannon said. “My daughter is missing, our army is about to face an overwhelming force and might not come home, and my husband is acting like a madman.”
“Poseidon named him co-ruler,” Morwena explained. “The king wanted Mother to act as regent with Lord Mikhail to assist her, but apparently he's gone to join the fight, as well.”
Elena's breath caught in her throat. “Lord Mikhail went with them? But he's not a soldier.”
“No,” Rhiannon agreed. “He isn't, but he's an Atlantean. Many went this day who weren't trained as warriors.”
Lord Mikhail.
Elena's heart raced.
If Mikhail was who she thought he was …
She shook her head.
She might have found him again, only to lose him a second time.
It was all too much to take in.
“I wanted to go with my brothers. There are women warriors in the ranks. But I decided I had something more important I needed to do.”
“More important?” Rhiannon asked.
“Yes,” Morwena said. “I'm going after Danu.” She looked at Elena. “And you may as well come with me. You've nothing to lose. You're already dead, aren't you?”
CHAPTER 29
O
rion cut and hacked his way to his father's side. Poseidon and a crack force of seasoned fighters had positioned themselves in the shelter of a wall. The huge stone blocks, which had once formed the outer defenses for a city older than Troy, had been covered by the Aegean Sea for three thousand years. Now the wall protected Atlanteans from a merciless enemy.
With their backs protected, the king and his battalion could stand, men four deep, rotating when the front line became fatigued. That way, fresh fighters met each new onslaught of shades. They'd been killing and dying for half a day, yet the horde came on in endless numbers.
The king had just shifted to the rear position after half an hour in the first row. He was winded, breathing hard, and covered in his own blood, but grinning. Fighting beside his troops had kindled a fire in Poseidon's eyes. When he saw Orion, he nodded and sighed heavily. “Too long I've sat in the throne room and let others win my battles for me,” he said. “It's good to know that I haven't lost the old skills with a sword.”
Orion nodded. His own mood was grim. He'd seen dozens of his own elite Blue-Shields go down under overwhelming numbers. So decimated was his command that he and Alexandros had joined their men. Orion had taken advantage of a lull in the fighting to seek out his father.
Poseidon grasped his arm. “You look well enough for a general. You don't have enough wounds to be out of the fight, and you've shed enough of your own blood to prove your valor. Never ask a man to do what you can't, that's the code I've lived by.”
“And so you taught me and my brothers.” Orion stepped close to the king, dropping his voice so that the men on his left and in front of him couldn't hear. “I needed to tell you something.”
“Make it quick,” his father said. “The scales on the back of my neck are twitching.” Poseidon wiped blood from his brow with a bare forearm. “Unless I miss my guess, we're about to be hit hard by about a thousand fresh shades.”
“I agree, but this can't wait. I wanted you to know, so that … if anything happens to me …”
“Enough of that talk. Out with it. You've had enough of fighting and decided to enter the priesthood?” The king let out a burst of raucous laughter. “You've gotten a mermaid with child? Or is it that human woman? Is she pregnant?”
“Not that I know of,” Orion said. “I took every precaution to make sure it wouldn't happen.”
Poseidon scowled at him from under a plumed helmet. “Not enough precaution, if there's a chance she might be with child. I've bedded my share of willing partners, male, female, and otherwise. Once I tried a …” He laughed again. “But …” His gaze grew hard. “It would turn my stomach to bed with a human, even one as comely as that wench of yours.”
Orion forced himself to contain his growing anger. Nothing would be gained by incurring his father's wrath. What was important was Elena's future, and Poseidon held the power to add to her happiness or destroy it. “I intend to ask Elena to be my wife—to remain at my side.”
“In Atlantis? By Hades, you will!” his father roared. “Not so long as I draw breath. One in the family is enough. I'll not have a second!”
“You don't know her,” Orion argued. “Elena is—”
“Beneath you. It's bad enough that your brother went against me and won the right to keep his human. But at least, she was half-Atlantean. I forbid you to keep her. Send this creature back to where she came from, or I'll make certain she doesn't live long enough to bear a half-breed abomination.”
Orion gritted his teeth. There was no time to try to persuade him, and he knew his father all too well. Set in his ways and stubborn as a moray eel. “If she'd have me, I'll make her my wife,” he said quietly. “And if you wish to harm her, you'll have to kill me first.”
A warning shout rippled down the line. “They're coming!” a warrior shouted. “Steady! Form up! Give them fire and blades, boys!”
“You forget who I am,” the king said. “Swive her all you want, but she'll be no daughter-in-law of mine. I've plenty of brave sons and the means to make more. I'll see you banished for life, as I've done Caddoc, before I tolerate any more—”
“So be it,” Orion interrupted. “Do what you must, sire.” He turned and started back toward where he'd left Alex and the remaining Blue-Shields. Then he stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. Despite everything, he loved his father.
“Guard your back,” Orion murmured, but he knew as he spoke that the words wouldn't carry to Poseidon's ears. And then, softly, almost to himself, he said, “Good-bye, Father.” Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he pushed everything but the image of Elena's face from his consciousness and returned to take his place with his men.
 
Danu stared through the cage bars as the funny-looking men with the fat bellies dragged out the screaming girls, one after another, from their cells. The men were only two cages away, and Danu's heart was beating so fast that it sounded like a drum in her ears. This was not a good place.
Danu hadn't seen the witch Halimeda since the men had locked her in here, and no one had come to bring her food or anything to drink. She was thirsty and her belly ached. Her skin hurt when she touched it. It almost felt like her scales were falling out. She found it harder and harder to breathe because of the black, oily smoke seeping down through the ceiling. Even her hands were drying out and cracking. Danu didn't like being out of the water. She missed the ocean, and she didn't like it in this scary place at all. She wanted her mother, and she wished her daddy would hurry and come for her.
A girl, bigger than her, but not as big as Morwena, screamed as two men dragged her past Danu's cage. The men were laughing. Danu wanted to call out to the girl, but she was afraid. Maybe, if she was very quiet, the bad people would forget that she was here. Behind her, Cymry, her new friend, huffed and snorted, shifting restlessly, so that her silver hooves made hard clicking noises against the stone. “Shh,” Danu whispered. “We're hiding.”
It was easier for Danu to be brave, now that she wasn't alone. At first, when they'd thrown her in this bad place, Danu had been so scared she almost cried. Then,
poof
, the tiny blue seahorse had appeared! Cymry glowed in the dark, and nobody but Danu could see her. Having her very own magic seahorse made everything better.
“Hide behind me,” her friend said. “And think of the reef outside your bedroom window at home. Think about the mother dolphin and her baby and how you like to watch them. Picture it in your mind, and don't think of anything else. And don't make a sound, no matter what you see or hear. Hurry!”
She did as Cymry said, and no sooner was she behind her, than the blue sea horse grew bigger and bigger. Her mane and tail grew longer and thicker until Cymry filled the whole cage, leaving only a small cubby hole in the corner for Danu to hide in. It would have been scary, but Danu knew that Cymry would never hurt her.
There was a scrape and a
clunk
. The metal door creaked open. Danu bit her bottom lip and held her breath.
“Get that one!” one of the bad men said. “That's the special one. She goes into the pit first.”
 
Guided by two mermen, Tadeu and Moises, Elena and Morwena ran through the pitch-dark caves that snaked under the island of Cyprus. Elena had lost track of time since they left the kingdom of Atlantis in the deepest part of the Atlantic and traveled to the bowels of Melqart's temple. The mermen had warned them that most of the temple lay above sea level, foreign territory for them and for Morwena.
Had the distance been shorter and time not so critical, Morwena said that they could have brought young recruits from the military academy and fighting dolphins, but under these conditions, they were on their own. No one knew that they had come to rescue Danu, no one but Rhiannon, and she'd sworn not to tell anyone, not even her husband. Whatever they faced here, they would have to rely on their own wits and Morwena's skill with a bow.
As Elena understood it, the mermen were spies in Lord Mikhail's network, rather than being warriors, but Morwena assured her that they were more than capable of defending themselves. Certainly she and Morwena would never have known where to look for Danu if it wasn't for Moises and Tadeu. Both claimed to have a vendetta against Melqart, but refused to elaborate.
The journey hadn't been an easy one. Elena shuddered as she thought of the frightening experience of going down into not one seraphim transit system, but four separate ones. She and Morwena and the mermen had endured storms and an encounter with the largest school of sharks Elena had ever seen. Finally, the four of them had nearly been run down and shredded by a Soviet submarine just outside the entrance to the underwater caves that led to Melqart's temple.
What am I doing here?
Elena thought, trudging behind the mermen.
I don't believe in witches. I certainly don't believe in Phoenician gods, and I've come to the conclusion that this isn't a dream
.
The man I love is off somewhere fighting cannibalistic creatures with vampire teeth and long claws, and I'm playing Indiana Jones with a female Atlantean archer and two seal-men. I'd better be crazy,
she thought
, because if this is real, I'm in big trouble.
One of the mermen stopped short. Elena bumped into him and would have fallen if the other one hadn't caught her. “Shh,” Morwena said. “Listen.”
Elena listened, but heard nothing but her own breathing. The darkness around her was awful, blacker than the darkest night. The cave floor was wet, oozing mud, slippery, and stinking. Cobwebs or something else as sticky and stringy dangled from the low roof. She would not think about the size of the spiders that must have spun webs this large.
Someone tapped her arm, and the small party moved cautiously forward. In a short while, Elena began to hear singing, something like the chanting of Benedictine monks. And she definitely smelled smoke.
Could a cave burn?
“Are you sure that Danu is here?” she whispered.
“They're certain,” Morwena said. “They followed Halimeda and Danu here.”
Elena couldn't imagine a five-year-old child in this dark cave, let alone an Atlantean child. The thought was too horrible to contemplate. She wished that Orion was here with her. Somehow, no matter how bad things had gotten before, she'd always felt safe when he was with her. Almost …
The first hint of light was so faint that Elena thought she might be imagining it. She heard Morwena stop, and then she heard the hiss as Morwena drew an arrow from her quiver.
“We have to move faster,” Morwena said. “Can't you feel it?”
“Feel what?” Elena asked.
“Something bad is going to happen. Soon.”
Heart in her throat, Elena followed the merman ahead of her until the light grew larger and brighter. The sound of chanting had increased as well. “We must be getting closer.” But to what, she didn't know.
As screams rose above the chanting, the four broke into a dead run.
 
Halimeda, garbed in her richest gown and jewels, stood at the base of the thirty-foot-high statue of Melqart. It was a very old likeness, carved crudely of stone. The bull head on the naked man's body was disproportionate. The horns and the phallus and testicles would have been too large and unwieldy for even a god of war to carry around. The feet, in particular, were ridiculous, small and flat, poorly carved, and stained black from centuries of sacrificed goats, chickens, and pigeons. The feet with its stubby toes made Melqart look like a small boy who'd been playing in the mud, rather than an awe-inspiring god.
Halimeda didn't feel the features of the face did her master credit either. The nose was too large, the eyes bulging, and the mouth too small. She hoped that the stonecutters who'd created this masterpiece had been the first to go into the fiery pit as offerings.
These human priests who served him here seemed equally inadequate. They were too fat, proving that they had grown greedy and lazy, keeping back too many of the goats and platters of sweets brought for Lord Melqart. In addition, it appeared to Halimeda that the priests had failed to secure proper girls for sacrifice. The first slut that had gone into the fire was no prize. Halimeda doubted that the she was even a virgin. She had a well-used look about her, and she was missing several front teeth, a sure sign of inferior stock. The only good thing you could say about her was that she had good lungs and a talent for screaming.
Halimeda studied the face of the bull man statue, hoping to see some spark of life. If Melqart made an appearance in the flesh tonight, it would be a show that these poor excuses for priests would remember for the rest of their short, pitiful lives. Caddoc should have been here at her side. She'd given him the credit for producing Poseidon's granddaughter, and here she was standing alone. It was a total waste. Lord Melqart had looked hard for her son. Since Caddoc was apparently nowhere to be found, she supposed he must have fled to the far oceans of the world—probably to Samoa with his stupid crony Tora.

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