Waterfire Saga, Book One: Deep Blue (A Waterfire Saga Novel) (23 page)

T
hree eyeballs,
set
in three amber rings, twisted around in their settings and stared at Serafina.

Serafina stared back uneasily.

“You like them?” Vrăja asked, as she handed her a cup and saucer.

“They’re very, um, unusual,” Sera replied.

Vrăja had led the mermaids back to her study. She’d invited them all to sit down, and had sent a servant for a pot of tea.

“They’re terragogg eyes,” she said now.

“Did they drown or something?” Neela asked.

“Or something,” Vrăja said. She smiled and Serafina noticed, for the first time, that her teeth were very sharp. “One dumped oil into my river. Another killed an otter. The third bulldozed trees where osprey nested. They live still—or rather,
exist
—as
cadavru.
I use them as sentries.”

“That rotter by the mouth of the Olt, is he one?” Neela asked.

“Yes. He has his right eye and I have his left. What he sees, I see. Very handy when death riders are about.”

She finished pouring the tea and sat on the edge of her desk. She’d poured a cup for herself, but didn’t drink it. Instead she picked up a piece of smooth, flat stone that was lying next to the teapot and turned it over in her hands. Symbols were carved into its surface.

“The songspell to make a cadavru is called a
trezi
. A Romanian spell. Very old,” she said. “I have many such spells. Passed down from obârşie to obârşie. These spells are how we, the Order of the Iele, have endured as long as we have. Merrow created us four thousand years ago, and we have carried out the duties she entrusted to us ever since, in order to protect the merfolk.”

“From what?” Ling asked.

Vrăja smiled. “Ourselves.”

She held the stone out so that Sera, Neela, Astrid, Becca, and Ling could see it, then handed it to Ava, so she could feel it. Baby, dozing in his mistress’s lap, growled in his sleep.

“Did you know that this writing is nearly forty centuries old?” Vrăja asked. “It came from a Minoan temple. It’s one of the few surviving records of Atlantis. It—like Plato’s accounts, and those of other ancients—Posidonius, Hellanicus, Philo—tells us that the island sank because of natural causes.” She looked at the mermaids, then said, “It lies.”

“Why?” Ava asked.

“Because that’s what Merrow wanted the world to know about Atlantis—lies. Stories have great power. Stories endure. Merrow knew that, so she had everything that told the true story of Atlantis expunged.”

“But why would she do that?” Neela asked.

“The truth was too dangerous,” Vrăja said. “Merrow had seen her people—men and women, little children—swallowed by fire and water. You see, it wasn’t an earthquake or a volcano that doomed Atlantis, as you undoubtedly have been taught. Those were only the mechanisms of its ruin. It was one of the island’s own who destroyed it.”

“Baba Vrăja, how do you know this?” Serafina asked. She was mesmerized by the witch’s words. Ancient Atlantean history was her passion. All her life, she had hungered to know more about the lost island, but there were so few conchs from the period, so little information to be had.

“We know from Merrow herself. She gave the truth to the first obârşie in a bloodsong. The obârşie kept it in her heart. On her deathbed, she passed it to her successor, and so on. We are forbidden to speak of it unless the monster rises. For four thousand years, we have been silent.”

“Until now,” Ling said.

“Yes,” Vrăja said. “Until now. But I have begun at the end, and beginnings are much better places to start.
Whatever you do or dream you can do—begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.
A terragogg wrote that. Some say it was the poet Goethe. He could have been writing about Atlantis for that was Atlantis—a
boldness.
A place made of genius and magic. Ah, such magic!” she said, smiling. “Nothing could compare to it. Athens? A backwater. Rome? A dusty hill town. Thebes? A watering hole. Mines of copper, tin, silver, and gold made Atlantis wealthy. Fertile soil made it fruitful. Bountiful waters fed its people. This island paradise was governed by mages—”

“The Six Who Ruled,” Becca said.

“Yes. Orfeo, Merrow, Sycorax, Navi, Pyrrha, and Nyx. Their great magic came from the gods, who had given each of them a powerful talisman. They were very close, the greatest of friends, and their powers were never stronger than when they were together. They ruled Atlantis wisely and well, and were revered for it. No decision involving the welfare of the people was made without the agreement of all six. No judgment or sentence was passed. There was a prison on the island—the Carceron. It was built of huge, interlocking stone blocks and had heavy bronze gates fitted with an ingenious lock. The gates could not be opened to admit a prisoner, or free one, unless the talismans of all six mages had been fitted into the lock’s six keyholes.”

Vrăja paused to take a sip of her tea. “No society is perfect,” she continued, setting the cup back into its saucer, “but Atlantis was just and peaceful. At the time, it was thought that this island civilization would last forever.”

“What happened? Why didn’t it?” Serafina asked, listening raptly to Vrăja’s every word.

“We do not know entirely. Merrow would not tell the first obârşie. All she would say is that Orfeo had been lost to them, that he’d turned his back on his duties and his people to create Abbadon, a monster whose powers rivaled the gods’. How he made it and of what, she would not say. The other five mages tried to stop him and a battle ensued. Orfeo unleashed his monster and Atlantis was destroyed. Abbadon shook the earth until it cracked open. Lava poured forth, the seas churned, and the dying island sank beneath the waves.”

Serafina sat back in her chair, silently shaking her head.

“You don’t believe me, child?” Vrăja asked.

“I don’t know what to believe,” she replied. “How could Abbadon shake the earth? How could it churn the seas? How could anything be that powerful?”

Vrăja took a deep breath. She touched her fingers to her chest and drew a bloodsong, groaning in pain as she did, for it wasn’t a skein of blood that came from her heart, but a torrent. It whirled through the room with malevolent force, tearing conchs off the shelves, smashing stone jars, turning the waters as dark as night.

Sound and color spun together violently and then the mermaids saw it—the ruin of Atlantis. People ran shrieking through the streets of Elysia, the capital, as the ground trembled and buildings fell all around them. Bodies were everywhere. Smoke and ash filled the air. Lava flowed down a flight of stone steps. A child, too small to walk, sat at the bottom of them, screaming in terror, her mother dead beside her. A man ran to the girl and snatched her up. Seconds later, the cobblestones upon which she’d sat were submerged by molten rock.

“Run!” a woman’s voice shouted. “Get into the water! Hurry! It’s coming this way.” Scores of people ran toward the sea. “Help them, please…oh, great Neria, stop this bloodshed!”

Serafina couldn’t see the woman who’d shouted, but she knew who she was—Merrow, her ancestor. This was Merrow’s memory.

Serafina heard the monster first. Its voice was that of a thousand voices, all shrieking at once. The sound was so harrowing, it flattened her against her chair. Then she saw the creature.

It was a living darkness, glazed in dusky red. Shaped like a man, it had two legs, and many arms. Powerful muscles gave it strength and speed. Its sightless horned head whipped around, drawn by the sound of running feet, of cries and screams. Hideous hands with eyes sunk into their palms guided the creature. It slashed at the helpless people trying to escape. When it killed, it threw its head back, opened its lipless pit of a mouth, and roared.

“Merrow!” a voice called out.

A man appeared, stumbling through the devastated streets. He was slender and dark-skinned, with blind eyes. He wore a linen tunic, sandals, and a large ruby ring. He had Ava’s high cheekbones and her long black braids.

“Nyx!” Merrow said, rushing to him. “Thank gods you’re all right! Where is he?”

“He’s barricaded himself inside the Temple of Morsa.”

“We have to get his talisman. And everyone else’s. If we can get them all, we can open the Carceron and force the monster inside.”

“He’ll never surrender it. We’d have to kill him to get it.”

“Then we will.”

“Merrow,
no
. This is
Orfeo
.”

“There’s no other way, Nyx! He’ll kill
us
. Find Navi. I’ll get Sycorax and Pyrrha. Meet us at the temple.”

And then the bloodsong faded and the waters cleared and the six mermaids sat in their chairs, shaken and silent.

Vrăja was the first to speak. “Nyx was killed by Abbadon before he could get to the temple, but he’d found Navi. She was badly injured, but she made it to the temple with Nyx’s talisman and her own. Merrow managed to corner Orfeo, kill him, and take his talisman. The surviving mages succeeded in driving Abbadon into the Carceron, but Navi and Pyrrha were killed in the struggle. As soon as the monster was locked away, Merrow took the talismans out of the lock, then led her people into the water. Sycorax, with the help of a thousand whales, dragged the Carceron to the Southern Sea and sank it under the ice. She died there. The whales sang her to her grave. And ever since, Abbadon has slept buried under the ice. Forgotten. Lost to time. But now it stirs. Now someone is trying to free it. And already it makes its evil presence felt. Realms wage war. Mer die. The waters turn red with blood. And now you must destroy it. You must gather the six talismans, use them to open the Carceron, then go inside and kill it.”

“Baba Vrăja, why us?” Serafina asked. “Why have you summoned
us
, six teenage merls, to kill Abbadon? Why not emperors or admirals or commanders with their soldiers? Why not the waters’ most powerful mages?”

Vrăja looked at them each in turn, then said, “You
are
the most powerful mages. There have been none as powerful in four thousand years. Not since the Six Who Ruled.”

“Oooooo-
kay
. I thought you were nuts. Now I know you are,” Astrid said.

“One of you knows this to be true. One of you sees it,” said Vrăja.

The mermaids looked at each other. They all wore confused expressions except for Ava, who was nodding.

“Do you see something, Ava?” Serafina asked. “What is it?”

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it before,” Ava said.

“See
what
?” Astrid said. “No one here’s a canta magus. This is
crazy
!”

“No, it’s not,” Ava said. “It makes perfect sense. There
were
six. There
are
six. Six of them, six of us.”

Becca’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you’re saying…no
way
, Ava. It
can’t
be.”

“But it is,” Vrăja said. “You six are the direct descendants of the six greatest mages who ever lived. Heiresses to their powers. Merrow, Orfeo, Sycorax, Navi, Pyrrha, Nyx…The Six Who Ruled live on inside each of
you
.”

A
STRID BLINKED.

Ava’s jaw dropped.

Becca and Ling shook their heads.

Neela turned bright blue.

Serafina spoke.

“Baba Vrăja, how can we be heiresses to the powers of the greatest mages who ever lived? It doesn’t make sense. Astrid’s right—we’d all be canta magi with perfect voices.”

Vrăja smiled. “You forget the canta magi are mer, and merpeople’s powers are in their voices. The goddess Neria made it so when she transformed the Atlanteans. She strengthened our voices so they would carry in water. But Merrow and her fellow mages—your ancestors—were born human. Human magic takes different forms. Some of your powers may, too. The abilities you demonstrated while fighting Abbadon certainly suggest they do. Neela and Becca cast songspells against Abbadon. Ling chanted. But you didn’t sing, Serafina. Neither did Astrid or Ava. Your powers may be a mix of your mage ancestors’ human magic and your own sea magic.”

“Who’s descended from whom?” Ava asked. “Serafina’s descended from Merrow, of course, but what about the rest of us?”

“A very good question,” Vrăja said. “Never before have six direct descendants been of the same age at the same time—just as the original six were.” She walked toward Serafina and put her hands on her shoulders. “As you said, Ava, Serafina is the daughter of Merrow. She was a great leader—brave and just. And a very powerful mage. Her greatest power, however, was love.”

“Love?” Astrid scoffed. “How is
that
a power?”

“Nothing is more powerful than love,” Vrăja said.

“Oh, no? How about a JK-67 lava-bomb launcher?”

“You have much to learn,” Vrăja said to Astrid. “Even your lava-bomb launcher could not have saved us today. Only Serafina’s quick thinking could. She would have sacrificed herself for all of you. A willingness to lay down one’s life for others is born of love.”

“Or stupidity,” Astrid said.

It was Neela’s turn next.

“One who holds the light,”
Vrăja said to her. “You are the daughter of Navi. She was a wealthy woman who had come to Atlantis from the land we now call India. Kind and good-hearted, she used her riches to build hospitals, orphanages, and homes for the poor. It was said she could hold light in her hands, as well as her heart. She could pull down light from the moon and stars, and like them, she gave her people hope in their darkest hours.”

Neela looked doubtful. “Baba Vrăja, I don’t know how much of Navi’s power I’ve inherited. I mean, sometimes I can cast a decent frag, other times I can barely get a bunch of moon jellies to light up.”

“There’s an explanation for that. I believe that your powers—and those of your friends—strengthen when you’re in proximity to one another,” Vrăja said. “How do you think you and Serafina managed to flee into the looking glass at the duca’s palazzo? There are canta magi who can’t do that.”

“You may be right,” Neela said. “My songspells are always better when I’m around Sera.”

Vrăja raised an eyebrow. “I
may
be right?” she said. “Try to do again what you did in the Incantarium.”

Neela looked around self-consciously. She took a deep breath and sang a fragor lux spell. This time, the light bomb she whirled across the room took a chunk out of the wall.

“Whoa,” she whispered, wide-eyed. “How did that…how did I…”

“Magic begets magic,” Vrăja said.

Becca was next.

“
One with spirit sure and strong.
Just like your ancestor Pyrrha,” Vrăja said to her. “She was a brilliant military commander—one of the greatest. She came from the shores of Atlantica. You are like her.”

“That can’t be right,” Becca said. “I’m just a student. With an after-school job at Baudel’s. I plan to major in business when I go to college so I can open my own shop one day. I have a lot of ideas for songpearls, but I don’t know a thing about soldiering.”

“Pyrrha started out as an artisan, too—a blacksmith. She could bid fire. She had a forge on Atlantis, as you have at Baudel’s,” Vrăja explained. “One day, she saw enemy ships coming and sent a boy on horseback to the capital, to alert them. Calling up the fire in her forge, she quickly transformed farm tools into weapons and armed everyone in her village. As the invaders marched through it, the villagers ambushed them and held them until troops from Elysia arrived. Pyrrha helped save Atlantis with her quick thinking. As you helped save us today, with your ability to call waterfire.”

“I never knew I had that ability,” said Becca. “Not until today.”

Vrăja then swam to Ava. “You are a daughter of Nyx. He came from the shores of a great river now known as the Mississippi. Like you, he was blind. And like you, he felt the things he could not see. Just as a bat does on land, or a shark in the water. Magic strengthened his gift, so that he could not only see what it is, but what will be. It will do the same for you.”

After Vrăja finished with Ava, there were two mermaids left—Ling and Astrid.

“Now for the big fat question: Who is Orfeo’s descendant?” Astrid said. “Let me guess…it’s
not
Ling.”

“Sycorax is Ling’s ancestor,” Vrăja said. “She came from eastern China, on the shores of Qin. She was born an omnivoxa, and her magical powers strengthened her gift. She could speak not just many languages, but
every
language. And not only human tongues, but those of animals, birds, creatures of the sea, trees, and flowers. She was Atlantis’s supreme justice. She solved disputes between citizens and negotiated treaties between realms. She was very wise.”

Ling smiled, but it was tinged with bitterness. “When I was little, people said I was a liar because I told them I could hear anemones talking. Plankton. Even kelp. I don’t have to study a language to know it. I only have to hear it. I’ve never known why. Now I do,” she said.

Astrid sat glaring the whole time Ling was speaking. “So
I’m
Orfeo’s descendant. That’s just perfect. So, like,
I’m
the bad guy, right?” she asked angrily, after Ling had finished.

“Orfeo was a healer. His people loved him. He was a musician, too, and played the lyre to soothe the sick and suffering. He came from Greenland. Of the six mages who ruled Atlantis, Orfeo was the greatest. His powers were unsurpassed. As yours may be, child.”

Astrid laughed harshly. “You’re wrong, Vrăja.
So
wrong. It’s not true. Orfeo’s
not
my ancestor. The whole idea is totally ridiculous. I mean, if you only
knew
…”

“Knew what?” Vrăja asked.

“Never mind. Just forget it,” Astrid said. “I can’t be part of this nutty little playdate any longer. The realms are on the verge of war, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m going home to make myself useful.”

“You
can’t
leave,” Serafina said, in spite of the distrust she felt for Astrid. “We’re supposed to be six, just like the Six Who Ruled—not five. Vrăja said our powers
put together
would be extraordinary. There’s no hope of defeating the monster without
all
of us.”

“I have news for you. There’s no hope of defeating it
with
all of us. We’re six kids! The only ones dreaming are
them.
” She hooked her thumb in Vrăja’s direction. “They need to stop their bogus chanting, raise an army, and go after this thing.”

“One who does not yet believe,”
Vrăja said.

“You’re right about that,” Astrid said. “I
don’t
believe. I don’t believe I came here. I don’t believe I wasted my time on this. I don’t believe I’m listening to this nonsense—”

“Excuse me.” It was Becca. Her voice, unlike Sera’s and Astrid’s, was calm and unruffled. “This isn’t helping us make any progress. Where, exactly,
is
the Carceron?” she asked, taking a piece of kelp parchment and a squid ink pen out of her traveling case.

“All we know is that it’s somewhere in the Southern Sea,” Vrăja replied.

“Well,
that
narrows it down,” Astrid said.

Becca jotted down a few notes, then asked, “What are the talismans?”

“We don’t know,” Vrăja said. “Merrow did not reveal them to us. We believe she hid them so no one could ever use them to free Abbadon.”

“If she was so worried about the possibility, why didn’t she destroy them?”

“Because they are indestructible. They were given by the gods.”

“Any ideas where she hid them?”

“No,” Vrăja said.

“Of course not!” Astrid said. “Why do you keep asking questions, Becca? You’re not getting any answers! Don’t you ever give up?”

Becca’s glasses had slipped down her nose. She pushed them back up. “No, Astrid, I don’t.” She turned back to Vrăja. “And Abbadon—any ideas what it might be made of?” Becca asked.

“It looked like it was made of darkness, but how could that be?” Ling asked.

“Only Orfeo has the answer to your questions, and he’s been dead for four thousand years. Not even the five mages who fought Abbadon knew. That’s why they couldn’t kill him,” Vrăja replied.

“The most powerful magi of all time couldn’t kill Abbadon, but
we’re
supposed to?” Astrid said.

“Ever hear of positive thinking,
mina
?” Ava asked testily.

“Ever hear of
rational
thinking? How are we supposed to kill it? Sneak up on it? It has like, a dozen hands! With eyes in them! We’ll never even get close to it,” Astrid said.

“So what should we do? Just go home? Go shoaling, go shopping? Pretend none of this ever happened?” Ling asked heatedly.

“Yes!”
Astrid shouted.

“Wait, calm down, everyone. Let’s take a deep breath and look at what we know,” Becca said.

“Which is, umm, hold on, let me see…
nothing
!” Astrid said. “We don’t know what the talismans are. Or where they are. We don’t know exactly where the monster is or what it is.”

“We do know—” Becca began.

“That we’re going to get our wrasses kicked!” Astrid said. “Abbadon killed thousands of people! He sank an entire island!”

“I would appreciate it if you would stop interrupting me,” Becca said.

“And I would appreciate it if you would stop being mental.”

“You’re unbelievably rude.”

“You’re clueless.”

“Stop arguing,
please
,” Serafina said, trying to hold the group together. “It’s not helping.”

“You’re right, it’s not,” Astrid said. “So, hey, let’s just poison everybody. Problem solved. Isn’t that how they do things in your neck of the water?”

“Whoa!”
Ling said. “Time
out
!”

“Astrid, you are
totally
out of line!” Ava said.

But Astrid didn’t listen. And Serafina, infuriated, started tossing insults back at her. And everyone else just talked louder. A few minutes later, they were all arguing, shouting, and flipping their tail fins at one another.

“I grow tired. I shall leave you now,” Vrăja suddenly said, the sound of defeat in her voice. “The novices have prepared food for you, and beds.” She turned to go.

“Thank you, Baba Vrăja, but I won’t need a bed. I’m heading out,” Astrid said.

Vrăja spun around. Her eyes bored into Astrid. “Orfeo had great powers, child. The greatest the world has ever seen. He had to choose how to use them. He chose evil. Magic is what you make it.”

Astrid’s angry expression cracked. It fell from her face like ice off a glacier, revealing raw fear. “But Baba Vrăja, you don’t understand! I
can’t
choose!” she said.

It was too late. Vrăja was gone. The doors closed behind her.

The six mermaids were by themselves.