Under Fallen Stars (42 page)

In her heart, Laaqueel knew he spoke the truth. Everything around her, including the Alamber Sea, was a cage. The Serosian sahuagin had lived very small lives.

“I had not intended for so many to die,” Iakhovas stated quietly. “In truth, I didn’t know that our arrival here would cause such an upheaval.”

Despite his flat tone and the fact that she knew he wouldn’t have wanted her to know much of his private thoughts, Laaqueel believed the note of regret she heard in Iakhovas’s voice was genuine.

“It was not your will, Most Exalted One,” she said, speaking with the certainty of faith. “It was the will of Sekolah. These deaths are the result of the fury of his claws and teeth reaving the weak from the tribe, making his mark on his chosen people.”

He stayed silent for a moment, not looking at her, as if weighing her words carefully. It was the first time Laaqueel could ever remember him doing that. “Do you truly think so, Most Sacred One?” His voice was almost a whisper.

Laaqueel shoved aside the tiny seed of doubt that stayed relentlessly within her. Even by Iakhovas’s own admission he hadn’t known the explosion was going to happen, but it had. Her training taught her that it had to be by the Great Shark’s will.

‘Yes,” she said. “The sahuagin who lived here have stayed in one place for so long, it would have been hard to convince them to leave.”

“Or to convince them to challenge the sea elves and mermen who sentenced them.” Iakhovas glanced at her, a small smile twisting his lips. A dim golden light gleamed in the hollow of his missing eye. “I find your words, your thinking, very comforting, my priestess.”

Laaqueel bowed her head, not prepared for the onslaught of emotions that whirled within her. She had never thought in her whole life that she’d be completely accepted. She was too much of a freak to expect that. She could only hope, and even then that hope was always dim. A surge of embarrassment filled her, one of the few times that it came from something she’d accomplished instead of something she’d fallen short on. She tried to think of an appropriate reply but couldn’t.

“Thank you, Most Exalted One,” she said simply.

Tarjana floated closer to the destroyed sahuagin city, powered by the oars of the rowers below. The ship’s approach had drawn attention in the form of a dozen fliers that suddenly skimmed from hiding on the sea floor. All of them carried sahuagin warriors.

“Ready yourself,” Iakhovas warned. “We won’t be greeted gratefully.”

Laaqueel knew it was true. As she’d been trained, she pushed her emotions away. It was so hard this time, though, because there was so much pleasure in how she felt as a result of Iakhovas’s unexpected praise. That confused her because generally her emotions were filled with pain. Bloody Falkane had left her feeling the same way.

Tension twisted her stomach as she watched the fliers quickly flank Tarjana. The fliers the Serosian sahuagin used were smaller than the ones the malenti was accustomed to, but they moved quickly and powerfully through the sea.

Iakhovas called orders out to stop the mudship. Quietly, Tarjana sank to the sea floor, settling deeply into the loose silt, crunching against the lava rock thrown out from the volcano.

The smaller fliers rode the currents above them. Coral spears and tridents bristled over the railings of all the Serosian fliers. Crossbowmen peered over their weapons.

Iakhovas stood before them all, his arms at his sides. He took no cover and he offered no outward threat. Laaqueel glanced at him, then had to turn quickly away. Whatever spell he was using to disguise himself as a sahuagin had gained power. Even though she normally saw him as human, the malenti’s vision clouded painfully, giving different views of human and sahuagin that overlapped so quickly one blurred into the other.

Occasionally, the view was of something else-something she couldn’t clearly recognize.

The sight of Iakhovas’s other self sent fear thrilling down Laaqueel’s spine. Nausea twisted her stomach relentlessly. She wasn’t certain if the ill feeling came from the spell or the sight of his misshapen other self. Her curiosity made her want to look again in spite of her reluctance.

Instead, her attention was riveted to the large sahuagin who strode to the forefront of the closest flier. He wore a prince’s insignia, recognizable even though the markings were different than what Laaqueel was used to. He held a royal trident in one gnarled fist. A three-armed sahuagin in a royal guardsman’s war halter flanked the prince on his left.

The royal guard beside the prince held Laaqueel’s attention. The guardsman gazed at her with bold viciousness, no hesitation in him at all.

“Who are you?” the guard bellowed.

Silently, the other sahuagin aboard Tarjana who weren’t at the oars swam up to take a stand behind Iakhovas. They bared their weapons as well, but Iakhovas waved them still.

Even with all the fliers they’d brought with them, Laaqueel knew they didn’t have a chance if the Serosian sahuagin attacked. Despite the awesome destruction the volcano had unleashed, Iakhovas and his followers wouldn’t have been able to stand against them. Unless Sekolah wills, the malenti amended to herself. She kept her gifts at the ready, certain Iakhovas was doing the same.

“I am Iakhovas.” His voice thundered through the water, punctuated by the shrill clicks and whistles of the sahuagin tongue. “I am king of We Who Eat in the Claarteeros Sea.”

“Liar!” the black-clawed royal guard roared. “That place exists only in myth.”

“Most Exalted One,” a sahuagin baron among Tarjana’s crew said quickly, “let me claim the right of blood challenge against this offender. I swear by Sekolah’s blessed fins that I will bring honor to your name.”

“No,” Iakhovas answered calmly. “No blood will be shed unless I command it. They need every warrior they can muster.” His words resonated and carried through the water.

Laaqueel quivered inside. Not responding to the royal guard’s accusation could be construed as cowardice. It was an open invitation to attack.

A four-armed sahuagin, missing one of his arms, who floated next to the Serosian prince opened his mouth to speak.

“Silence, T’Kalah,” the prince commanded without looking at the warrior.

TKalah swung on the other man, displeasure evident in his body language. Laaqueel knew if the prince had noted the movement he would have punished the warrior for insubordination.

The prince studied Iakhovas with his measured gaze. “You are a king.”

“Yes,” Iakhovas answered shortly but politely.

Laaqueel watched T’Kalah, feeling that if any attack was launched it would come through that sahuagin first. During her inspection of the royal guard, she noted the fact that the anterior fins on the sides of his head flared back over his skull and merged with the dorsal fin on his back. The anterior fins of the sahuagin in the outer seas didn’t connect. His different coloring had already been noticed. Even as strange as the Serosian sahuagin looked to her, she knew they fit in more securely with her own people than she did despite Iakhovas’s influence.

“Among your own people, perhaps,” T’Kalah growled, “but not here.”

Iakhovas pinned the sahuagin warrior with his glance. “I made myself king through blood, three-arm, and if need be, I will remain so by spilling more. Make no mistake about that.”

TKalah’s black eyes burned with hostility and he stared hard back at Iakhovas. It was not something most sahuagin would ignore. Instead, Iakhovas looked back to the prince, dismissing the sahuagin warrior as if he were nothing. Laaqueel watched the muscles bunch across T’Kalah’s chest, and the amputated stub of his arm jerked involuntarily.

“No,” she stated forcefully. She held her hands up before her, feeling the power of her gifts. “I am a priestess of Sekolah, warrior, and you would do well to heed my calling and the authority of the Most Exalted One.”

The prince looked at T’Kalah as well, then moved his trident to face the other sahuagin. “If you move, you shall have to get through me as well.”

“I seek only to protect you,” TKalah argued.

“Then do it by serving me,” the prince ordered.

Angrily, T’Kalah held his trident upright in one hand, then folded his other two arms across his chest. “These are ill currents, Maartaaugh.”

“If so,” Maartaaugh said, “we shall swim through them.” The prince turned his attention back to Iakhovas. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see your king,” Iakhovas said.

“King Kromes is dead. He died when the volcano exploded.”

Iakhovas remained silent.

“His death,” Laaqueel stated to fill the uncomfortable void that followed, “was by the will of Sekolah.”

“Liar!” T’Kalah cried. “He’s dead by your hand! Killed when you came through the volcano!”

Maartaaugh looked at the royal guard. “They couldn’t have come through the volcano.”

“I tell you, Exalted One,” T’Kalah stated, “it is as I say. Would you call me a liar?” He took a step away, setting himself into a fighting stance. “I won’t take such an accusation without demanding blood honor.”

“We came through the volcano,” Iakhovas told them.

The sahuagin prince faced Iakhovas again. “How?”

Laaqueel heard the uncertainty and fear in the prince’s voice. She knew Maartaaugh was thinking of the magic involved with such a thing. “We were brought here by the Great Shark’s will.”

“They spout still more lies,” T’Kalah said. “All true sahuagin know that Sekolah doesn’t meddle in the affairs of his chosen. He expects them to fend for themselves.”

Maartaaugh’s face grew stony. Laaqueel felt the prince slipping away from them, saw it in the way he folded his arms and closed in on himself.

“Why,” Maartaaugh asked, “would Sekolah do such a thing?”

Laaqueel stepped forward, taking her place beside Iakhovas. She lifted her voice and made it strong. “The Great Shark has established certain currents within Most Exalted One Iakhovas. Sekolah started a ripple within the Claarteeros Sea, and through the strength and forethought of Iakhovas, that ripple has spread even unto Seros.”

“Brave words,” T’Kalah snarled, “but words are cheap.”

“He brought an army here,” Laaqueel said.

“And killed our king.” T’Kalah stepped toward her. “Tell me why the Great Shark would choose a malenti to speak for him.”

The words stung Laaqueel.

“Because,” Iakhovas snapped, “her faith is stronger even than your thickheadedness.”

T’Kalah swam up from the flier’s deck, cutting through the water swiftly. The currents he started slammed against Laaqueel.

“Most Sacred One,” Iakhovas said softly, “don’t kill this one yet.”

T’Kalah arrowed toward them, disregarding the prince’s commands to return to the flier.

Summoning her power, Laaqueel shot out a hand, praying to the Great Shark that her control be strong and sure.

Little more than halfway between the vessels, T’Kalah’s smooth stroke suddenly shattered. His arms and legs twisted in a vicious convulsion. He flailed out against the sea as if it was closing in on him.

Laaqueel held the sahuagin warrior in the spell’s thrall, knowing the pressure she’d created was so great he wasn’t able to breathe properly.

“Enough,” Iakhovas said.

Silently, Laaqueel dismissed the spell, feeling terribly fatigued. It was one thing, she knew from experience, to unleash a spell, and quite another to attempt to curtail it and shape it once it had been loosed.

Released from the crushing pressure, T’Kalah finned weakly in the ocean, barely able to control himself. Weakness showed in every move he made. Angrily, he retreated back to his flier.

“What do you want?” Maartaaugh asked.

“If your king is dead,” Iakhovas asked, “who leads?”

“The remaining princes. We serve as council. For the moment.”

“How many are you?”

“Five,” Maartaaugh answered.

“Then I will speak to them.”

Glints of anger stirred in Maartaaugh’s black eyes. “Why should I allow it?”

“You would be foolish to try to stop me,” Iakhovas declared. “I’ve come from an ocean, a world away, and I’ve come here for one thing only. I’ve traveled to Seros to free you from your prison.”

Laaqueel stood at Iakhovas’s side as he spoke at the public forum he’d demanded. She felt the currents eddying around her, tracked by the lateral lines that ran through her body. She watched the five princes gathered at the makeshift table that had been hastily cobbled together by laying a section of flat rock over two stacks of rock in one of the cleared areas in the center of Vahaxtyl. The table was more a show of authority than any furnishing. The princes wore their halters of rank and held their tridents.

All of the princes were grim-faced. They didn’t even talk among themselves at Iakhovas’s announcement.

The malenti priestess knew they were of one mind. Maartaaugh had already spoken to them. Even then, Iakhovas had agreed to come to their offered meeting unarmed, with only Laaqueel and a dozen Black Tridents as a token show offeree.

If the princes voted against Iakhovas’s offer, Laaqueel had no doubt that they would all be dead before the sun stabbed down into the water again. She averted her gaze from the princes’ table out of deference, and more nervousness than she wanted to admit.

Most of the populace of Vahaxtyl ringed them, sitting on broken terrain over the underground sections of the city.

Huge gray lava rocks piled high all around. She knew Iakhovas’s voice carried well in the water, but messengers were on hand to relay what was spoken. She heard Iakhovas’s words passed on again and again.

Most of the sahuagin crowd’s body language registered disbelief and anger. They knew that the outer sea sahuagin had come through the exploding volcano and had emerged unharmed while so many of their city died. That crowd was only a step away from reaching out for vengeance. The rubble of the city lay scattered around them, and the twilight gloom of the depths filled the water above them.

Laaqueel didn’t know what Iakhovas had been thinking to agree to the princes’ terms. She drew water in through her gills, held it for a moment, then flushed it out again.