Children of Poseidon: Rann (2 page)

Chapter 2

Rann strolled down the slope of the beach to where the sand met the restless surge of the sea. Here, in the shelter of a small bay, the breakers subsided to gentle wavelets, tracing patterns in the shingle. The dead mermaid swam in the back of his mind, a problem he needed to solve. Her death ceremony had passed without incident, and two days ago her body returned to the sea that birthed her. He needed to find out how and why she died.

Iron-gray clouds hung heavy in the sky, and humidity layered his skin with moisture. Before long, the heavens would open and the daily deluge would start. He waded out into warm shallow water, heading for the reef. Today he held the deep-water court, the one day a month he listened to the concerns of his subjects living beyond the island’s natural barrier, in the deep ocean. As far as he remembered, only one thing appeared on the agenda today, and he’d already decided how his judgement would go.

With any luck, he should finish early and have time to spare to sniff round for anything untoward in the area, anything that might have caused the deaths the merpeople had reported.

After the court closed, he had an appointment to meet his mother. She rarely made demands on him; time passed differently for her, and for all practical purposes, she was a hermit. He wondered what she wanted.

The shallow water extended for almost half a mile, as far as the reef surrounding the island. Rann didn’t hurry. He splashed through the warm sea, enjoying the sight of the small brightly coloured fish, the floating blue jellyfish with their trailing toxic tentacles, and the occasional shuffling crab. Everything appeared to be calm and normal, so he let the busy life of his kingdom wash away his worry. He reached the reef as heavy drops of rain began to fall, splashing his shoulders and bouncing off the dark surface of the sea. Shaking his wet hair out of his face, he shifted into the form of a porpoise to make better speed through the water.

The kraken waited at the entrance to a wide underwater cavern, heavy tentacles wrapped round his massive body

“Sealord.” He acknowledged Rann’s arrival and lowered his huge dark eyes. He was still young but already too big to enter the cave easily.

Rann transformed back into his human form and sank down, cross-legged, onto the seabed at the cave’s entrance. The light faded out at this depth, keeping the sun-deprived water still and cold, but Rann commanded his element, and he was aware of everything happening round him. Tendrils of his consciousness reached out into the deep, seeking and probing. The undersea world held no discernible trace of threat.

He waited.

Two merpeople, both male, emerged from the depths of the cave and glided towards him, weapons in their hands.

“Sealord.” They bowed their heads.

Rann nodded. The mermen had been hunting in the kraken’s territory.
That must have been how they found the dead mermaid.

Unfortunately for them, the kraken objected strongly to uninvited visitors. Rann suspected the monster’s natural inclination had told him to remove the trespassers in a terminal fashion. However, he knew very well Rann would be displeased, and none of Rann’s subjects liked to contemplate his displeasure. He seldom made a display of his power and rarely lost his temper. There was no need; the sea dwellers all knew the strength their ruler wielded. He prepared to listen.

“It’s not the hunting, Lord.” The kraken’s baleful gaze rested on the mermen. “It’s the lack of respect. This is my territory.”

“It’s wasted on you.” The older merman took a step forward, gripping his trident. “Why should you keep all this, when—”

“It’s mine.” The kraken’s voice rumbled through the water. Krakens were possessive, protecting the limits of their territories, but they lived on plankton and didn’t need the fish the merpeople hunted.

Rann concentrated on the argument. He usually enjoyed the game, but today, the petty differences scraped at his temper.

“They deserve to die for this,” the kraken grumbled. “Ill-mannered trespassers.”

“The ocean is wasted on you.” The elder of the merman repeated himself, waving his trident.

Rann quelled his reluctant amusement and held up one hand. They all realised the kraken would barely feel a sting from the spear, but he supposed the merman needed to show himself to be unafraid.

“He’s right.” Rann switched his attention to the merman. “You knew it was his territory. You should have requested permission.”

The merman glared at the huge sea monster. “I am sorry, Sealord.”

“Not to me.” Rann nodded at the kraken.

The merman made a huffing sound and repeated his apology to the kraken.

The kraken blinked once.

Rann paused and thought hard about the situation. He waited for a decent interval before he shared his decision. The merpeople would pay the kraken tribute for hunting in his waters, and in return, the kraken would view the mermen as part of the territory. The tribute would be a mere gesture, but a token of respect. A little grumbling emanated from the two parties.

“Enough.” Rann allowed a sliver of his power to colour his voice, silencing the mermen.

The kraken unravelled, extending tentacles into the water round his body. The mermen retreated into the mouth of the cavern, and the kraken shot away, returning to his depths. A pressure wave rippled backwards.

Rann waited until they all disappeared before transforming back into the porpoise form and heading out into the depths of the Indian Ocean to find his mother’s lair. The waters were empty of anything foreign, and whatever had killed the sea people no longer lingered in the vicinity.

Cyclops lived in deep water, in a cave system riddling a cleft of the seabed and disappearing into depths Rann had never explored. Greater monsters than his mother lurked down there, but they didn’t cause him any trouble, so he let them get on with their existence in peace. He slowed his pace as he approached the opening to his mother’s lair. Even though he loved her and he was sure she loved him, he still took care on his visits to her. After all, she was a deep-ocean Cyclops, not a being to mess with. Usually she recognised him, but sometimes her attention slipped, and that could be dangerous. He’d once taken Lykos to visit her, and she’d attacked his half-brother savagely enough to kill a lesser being. Fortunately, Lykos was not a lesser being. He broke free without damaging the Cyclops or taking too much harm. Cyclops was very apologetic the next time Rann saw her, but it had taught him caution.

She hovered in the water at the entrance to her grotto, a mass of tentacles obscuring her body. Her heads rose from the writhing mass, awake and alert. Rann discarded his fins and tail, presenting himself in his human form. The heads turned towards him, and most of them smiled. A good day then.

“You sent for me?” he asked.

For a brief instant, the mass of gleaming eyes regarded him with an expression of confusion. Her heads swivelled back to look into the darkness of her den. “Did I?”

One of her heads concentrated on him, and the rest sank back into a state of rest, eyes closing, before they became invisible. “Yes. That’s right.” Strong, slender arms wrapped round him in a fond hug, before pushing him away.

“Follow me.” She swam into the shadows, trailing long tentacles behind her.

Rann changed his legs to a muscular tail and followed, adjusting his eyes to the darkness of the grotto. Cyclops shared her caves with a range of sea dwellers, and most of them had the ability to generate their own light, if they wanted to.

She led the way into a large open cavern and stopped without warning. Rann stopped, too, before he swam into the net of her tentacles, and waited for her to explain what she wanted.

She undulated in the water, sending small shock waves into Rann’s patient body. “Over there.” Her alert head swung to face the inner wall of the undersea cavern.

Rann’s eyes followed it. He squinted into the murkiness.

Cyclops had a prisoner.

“What have you . . .?” He started to ask a question but shook his head and swam towards the figure.

Glittering chains wound round the still form, creating a barrier between the prisoner and the world’s magic. The dull resonance told Rann they were nullsilver, the only element known to suppress magic.
Where did Cyclops get this much nullsilver? And why does she have the chains in her lair at all?

As though she read his thoughts, his mother moved forward with him. “Danger. Be careful, my son.” Her voice shook the depths. “She brought bad magic into the sea.”

Rann wanted to ask why she still lived but guessed his mother didn’t understand why she hadn’t killed this intruder. “What is she?”

Beneath the wrapping of chains, the emaciated body sagged. Hollow cheeks and stick-like arms suggested she hadn’t eaten for some time. Shadowy bruises surrounded one eye, and her dark hair had been cut close to her head. Scars decorated her scalp, visible through the stubble. She didn’t look dangerous.

“Seawitch.” His mother pressed his arm, trying to tell him something. She touched the woman’s face with the palm of her hand.

The prisoner didn’t move. Rann wondered if the weight of the chains immobilised her or if something more serious affected her.

“Are you sure?” If his mother was right, this was the first seawitch Rann had seen in over a thousand years. He’d heard Circe still had a couple living in her Pacific home, but that might have been just a rumour. They’d become scarce after their creator, Damnamenos, had disappeared. He’d turned up nine years ago, stirred up some trouble, and gone quiet again. He wondered if Damnam had anything to do with this witch.

It’s strange that he should return and this creature should suddenly appear.
Rann glanced at his mother. “Bad magic?”

“Death magic. Dark magic. Very dark.”

Rann studied the prisoner.

Dark magic? Is it possible she caused the mermaid’s death? And that of the porpoises and octopus?
He wondered again why Cyclops hadn’t killed her.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked. It didn’t do to take his mother for granted.

“Take her away. Do whatever you have to.” She waved her arms in a shooing motion. “She might already be gone. Just a husk.”

Rann winced. He knew what his mother meant. Sometimes the pressure of the magic within a witch’s body drove her mad and the spirit would flee the flesh, leaving an empty, but sometimes dangerous shell. A small percentage of magic users and magical beings fell prey to this malady, and Rann had learned that destroying the body solved the problem. Usually.

In his kingdom, it was his job and not one he enjoyed, even though the bodies were empty vessels, discarded flesh. He examined the prisoner again.
Should I break her neck now?

“She leaked magic.” His mother’s face contorted with the effort of making herself understood. She often had difficulty communicating with others. He waited while she thought about how to tell him what she wanted him to know.

“Things died where she went.”

Rann opened his mouth, but two more heads of Cyclops jerked into alertness and silenced him with a glare.

“It wasn’t her fault. Something bad leaked out of her, but it wasn’t hers. She was already like she is now.”

Rann glanced again at the immobile figure.

“I used the nullsilver.” Cyclops’s tentacles fluttered with agitation. “Stopped her bleeding magic. Stopped the danger.”

Rann nodded his approval. He realised now why his mother hadn’t killed her. If she leaked dark magic, magic not her own, then someone else must be pulling her strings, making her nothing more than a puppet.

“Take her,” his mother repeated. “Go now.”

The rising rage in her voice prompted Rann to grab the prisoner. If his mother’s mood swung to anger, he’d rather not be in her grotto. He took the witch round the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. She didn’t respond, flopping forward as though already dead. Rann’s heart sank. He flicked his porpoise tail and swam to the entrance of the cavern, pausing to look back. His mother floated in the same place, but all her heads stirred.

The one he’d talked to lifted its chin. “Make things right.” She disappeared into a cloud of bubbles as her tentacles churned up the water.

Rann nodded, even though he had no idea how to do that.

When he emerged from the ocean and crossed the reef, he propped the woman in the thigh deep water to inspect her more closely. The warm tropical rain battered the top of her head and ran down her face, beading her eyelashes. Her blue-green eyes flickered, but she showed no other sign of life.
Is she insane? Has her spirit fled? Should I kill her now?

Something made him hesitate. There had been fear in that movement of her eyes; he was sure of it. If she still felt fear, she wasn’t gone completely. He might have to end her life, but not yet. He needed to know what had been done to her, by whom, and why.

Picking her up again, regardless of the weight of her chains, he hoisted her back over his shoulder. He waded through the water towards the distant beach, wondering if he brought danger into his home along with the witch.

Chapter 3

Shifting the dead weight of the seawitch and her chains and tossing his head to flick the wet hair from his face, Rann peered down at the seasprite who ran to greet him.

“Sealord.” The sprite jumped up and down with excitement, and Rann smiled despite the concern weighing on his spirit.

“Slow down, Moni.” He waited while she calmed herself. “What’s the news?”

“A visitor.”

Rann raised one eyebrow.

“Not just any visitor. It’s the friend of Jewel. The tall one from England. The warrior witch.”

“Maya?”

The sprite nodded. “She’ll be here tonight. She took one of the boats in Zanzibar.”

“By herself?” Alarm made him twitch. Maya came from London. She knew nothing about boats, the sea was treacherous, and his island deliberately difficult to find. He hoped she wouldn’t be that stupid. Having dealt with Maya before, he couldn’t convince himself.

The seasprite laughed and tossed her head of damp seaweed. “Of course not. Lini met her.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.” Rann shifted his burden again and began to trudge up the beach. Lini and Moni were sisters and completely at home in any kind of boat.

The seasprite kept pace with him, skipping along at his side as he headed to the house.

“Have you told Jewel?” Rann thought this news might put his young witch into a better mood. It was obvious to him that something troubled her, but she hadn’t confided in him. He didn’t like that. Much longer and he’d force the issue.

“Not yet.” The sprite pointed at the house. “She’s there. You can tell her.”

Jewel leaned on the railings of the balcony that ran round the first floor of his house, talking to the older witch. Tamsin turned away and headed indoors. The rain stopped suddenly and the clouds parted, revealing blue sky and a shaft of sunlight that illuminated Jewel as she descended the stairs. A shock of awareness rippled through him. She wore one of the bikinis she’d bought in Dar es Salaam the last time her friend had visited. A tiny halter top barely covered her small breasts, and a turquoise sarong, wrapped round her hips, dipped low enough to reveal the gold and turquoise stud decorating her navel. Her long apricot-coloured hair was twisted up on top of her head, and a strand gleamed almost copper as the stray beam of light caught it. All the witches he’d met had shades of red in their hair, but Jewel’s was very subtle. Her eyes were lined with kohl, and the nails on her toes and fingers were painted a green that contrasted with the sarong.

She was beautiful. Slender, small and delicate, but not a child any longer. She’d grown up. Time passed so quickly he had missed that. He waited at the bottom of the stairs.

“Rann.” Nervousness shook her voice. She spoke in a rush. “I need to talk to you. I’ve been thinking. It’s time I left the island.”

She often left. Visits to Zanzibar and, less frequently, to Dar es Salaam were common. Rann set the unresponsive seawitch on her feet, where she swayed before finding some sort of balance.

Jewel’s eyes flicked sideways then narrowed as she focussed on the woman in the chains.

“Who’s that?” She gestured with her chin.

Rann shrugged. “Haven’t a clue.”

“But . . .” Jewel stepped towards her, head tilted to one side.

The witch wobbled. Rann steadied her with one hand.

“Why’s she draped in chains?” Jewel looked more closely, narrowing her clear blue eyes. “That’s nullsilver.”

She gave him an accusing stare, which he returned with a sense of annoyance.
Surely Jewel doesn’t think I trussed her up like this?

“My mother caught her. She asked me to take her away.” Rann studied his prisoner. The chains did look a bit over the top, and even he’d noticed they were quite heavy. “If you get me some nullsilver bracelets, I’ll take them off.”

Jewel opened her mouth, but Rann cut off any protest she might have been about to make. “Please? The Cyclops thinks she’s dangerous.”

Jewel shook her head, causing the tiny bells in her ears to chime, but she disappeared into the house. Everyone in his household knew how much power Cyclops wielded, so if she called the strange witch dangerous, none of his people would be willing to take risks round her. He picked his prisoner up again and carried her through a door, down a corridor, and into the inner courtyard, where he placed her on a stone bench. Taking a step back, he examined her carefully, trying to see some reason not to destroy her. No sign of life flickered in her dark eyes. She remained in the exact position he’d placed her in, like a doll or a statue. He raked both hands through his hair. He hoped he hadn’t been mistaken. It would be unpleasant to have to kill such a pathetic creature.

Jewel returned, carrying a pair of the nullsilver bangles, which she handed to him. Rann fastened them round the wrists of the seawitch and unwound his mother’s chains.

“I’m going to have to send these back,” he muttered as he placed them in a pile on the sun-warmed stone terrace.

Jewel sat on the wall of the fishpond.

“My mother thinks she’s a seawitch.” He nudged the pile of chains with the tip of his toe. “She thinks there’s something wrong with her and she’s polluted with dark magic.”

Jewel’s head jerked round to inspect the immobile figure. “Dark magic?”

“It’s not her own. Someone’s done this to her.”

“A seawitch? Cursed? What are you going to do with her?” Jewel knew that Rann’s final duty to his people gave them a peaceful ending. Her eyes flew to meet his.

“I don’t know. I thought she had some awareness when I brought her out of the sea, but it might have been the sun in her eyes.” He inspected Jewel. “You’re a witch. What do you think?”

Jewel’s forehead wrinkled. “I’ve never met a seawitch. They’re supposed to be extinct. I think they’re different, though. As different as witches are from shapeshifters.” She glanced at the still figure again. “Maybe Tamsin might know something about them?”

“We’ll ask her.” He shrugged and called to one of the seasprites. “Watch her.” He pointed at the seawitch. “Make sure she doesn’t leave.”

The seasprite nodded. She climbed out of the fountain where she’d been making the most of the cool water and skipped over to sit on the bench next to the prisoner.

Rann took Jewel’s hand and pulled her up from her perch on the stones round the pond. “What did you mean ‘time for you to leave the island’? For how long? Why?”

He shook his head to clear the worry and tugged her over to one of the stone benches. He thought she’d been happy. She never caused him any problems. It didn’t make sense to him. She belonged to the island.

Her eyes met his, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Jewel tugged her hand away from Rann’s and tucked it in the folds of her sarong. Looking down at the stone under her bare feet, she thought about what to say. She took a deep breath, but her voice still trembled. “I’ve been here nine years. It’s time I moved on. I only meant to stay a year.” This was harder than she had expected. Rann had been so good to her. It wasn’t his fault that kindness no longer satisfied her.

“Is it because of Tamsin?” Rann asked. “Has she said anything to you about moving? I’ve noticed she’s been restless. She’s a natural wanderer. You aren’t.”

“No, it’s not Tamsin.” Jewel shook her head, filling the air with the tinkle of tiny bells. “I need to work out what I want to do with my life. It’s time, I think. And I don’t know if I’m a wanderer or not.”

“You can stay here.” Rann took her hand again and stroked the back of it with his thumb. “It’s where you belong.”

Jewel forced herself not to pull away again, but the small caress played havoc with her calm.

“This is your home if you want it to be.”

Fighting the weak urge to rest against him, she blinked sudden moisture from her eyes. Rann had always taken care of her; from the night she’d been cast out by her mother’s coven, he’d offered her sanctuary. He’d taken her in, found her a teacher, and let her make her home in his rambling house. He’d have done the same for a stray dog. Her heart swelled with a premature sense of loss. “I think I’m going to go back to London.”

“Why?” He sounded genuinely puzzled. “It’s a horrible place. Cold, wet, and gray. And it’s got your mother in it.” Rann had met Kara once and been very unimpressed with her.

Despite her distress, Jewel couldn’t keep from smiling. London did indeed have her mother in it. A major reason for staying away. Especially as her mother had never, not even once, tried to contact her.

She didn’t care. Kara was a bitch. Jewel didn’t need her. She had her friends, like Maya and Tethani, Rann’s daughter. On the island, she enjoyed the company of the sea people and Rann. If she never saw her mother again, it wouldn’t bother her.

“I have to go back.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Work out whether I still have a relationship with my mother. And with the coven. And whether I want one.” She needed to cut the links to her old home and move on. Regardless of her feelings for Rann, she had to do this. She had to see her mother one more time, face her fears, and if necessary, sever the ties that held her to London. Then she could get on with her life. “The time’s right.”

“You’ll return here afterwards.” It wasn’t a question.

“I don’t think so.” Jewel finally pulled her hand away again. “It really is time to move on. I have to find a place for myself. Somewhere I can be useful.” She looked up as a sudden breeze pulled strands from her hairstyle.

Rann glowered down at her. The expression of confusion and anger didn’t belong on his relaxed, sensual features. “Have we made you feel less than useful here?”

“No.” Her eyes flew to his.

Bronze flared in the depths of the brown, and instead of the familiar warm seductiveness, something fierce and primeval stared back at her.

This gimlet-eyed demigod was a stranger to her. Rann was no longer relaxed and laid-back. Words spilled out of her mouth. “You’ve been so kind. But I’ve taken so much from you. I have to stand on my own feet. I’ve been hiding here for too long.”

“You’ve given back as much as you’ve taken.” The anger faded from Rann’s eyes.

Jewel swallowed her relief. The rage of one of Poseidon’s sons caused storms, tidal waves, tremors in the seabed, and tsunamis if it was unleashed. She had never seen Rann unleash his anger, and she never wanted to.

“My house is run efficiently, everything is well ordered.” He paused. “That didn’t use to be the case. Ask any of my half-brothers.”

Jewel forced a smile. “I know order isn’t important to you. But it gave me something to do. You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Jewel?” Rann twisted in his seat and placed a hand on the side of her face, long fingers cupping her cheek.

She allowed herself to relax into the warmth.

“If there’s anything that’s made you feel you can’t stay here, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?” Warm brown eyes probed her face.

A sick feeling of guilt made her swallow and pull away from his hand. “You view me as a child.” She forced her voice to remain steady and rational. “I’ve got to grow up. I don’t want to stay an object of pity.”

Rann let out an impatient sigh. “Sympathy is not pity. And you are barely out of adolescence. To me you are little more than a child.” He sounded impatient and a little annoyed. “I want to take care of you.”

“You want to take care of everyone. I can look after myself. I’m not a child anymore.” Jewel’s voice shook, and suppressed rage made her body tremble. She knew Rann had never viewed her as a woman, but it still hurt to hear him say it.

Rann took a deep breath. “This is your home.”

The frustration in his voice rippled through her. It was obvious he couldn’t understand why she had to leave.

“You can always come back here.” He rose to his feet then bent down and kissed her forehead. “We won’t talk about it any longer. It upsets you. Tomorrow we’ll talk again.”

He straightened and walked towards his prisoner. Jewel watched him go, feeling sick as the rage drained away.

He’d kissed her on the forehead. He really did view her as a child. If she hadn’t been so grateful to him for all his kindnesses, she might have slapped him or told him she hated him, said the sort of things she’d come out with as a teenager—the sort of careless speech that caused her to be banished from her coven in the first place.

He bent and pulled the seawitch to her feet before guiding her through one of the doors in the wall of the courtyard. It didn’t matter who she was or what she might have done; Rann would look after her. Jewel dug her nails into the palms of her hands.
Perhaps I should tell him how I feel. If he questions me again tomorrow, I will.
Breathing slowly and deeply, she focussed on the water playing in the fountain until Moni came back and ran over to her.

“The Sealord forgot to tell you. Your Maya friend is on the way. She will arrive tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jewel forced herself to concentrate on the practicalities. She didn’t think she expected a visit from Maya. There had been no communication, no discussion of a visit.

Has something happened? It will be nice to see her, though. Maya might have some ideas about where I can fit in.

Maya kept in close touch with a circle of young witches from many of the communes. She might even know someone who knew something about seawitches.