Oceanborne (16 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Oceanborne
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“Rhiannon,” he said urgently to his wife, but she only stared through him, smiled, and began to hum again. “What can have happened to her?” Morgan asked.
“I don't know. If her attendants can be revived, perhaps they can tell us.”
Morgan ordered two of the soldiers to go to investigate before turning again to Athena. “Have you called for a healer?” he asked.
Athena nodded.
“This baby means the world to her,” he said. “To both of us.”
Due to the long lives of Atlanteans and the serious nature of parenthood, many couples chose not to have children at all. Those who did make that choice cherished each new life. There were no unwanted babies or neglected children as often happened among the overpopulated air breathers. If an accident befell the mother or father, there were a hundred willing hands to catch and cradle the child, regardless of age or class. Thus the loss of any pregnancy was a tragedy in the kingdom.
As one who would someday be the high king and take the title of
Poseidon
as the ancient Egyptians had named each of their kings
pharaoh
, it was expected that Morgan would naturally take more than one wife and father many children. The crown of Atlantis had passed down from father to son for millennia and the line must continue.
But Rhiannon had not been born to the sea. She would have none of the old custom of multiple wives. When she agreed to become Morgan's bride, she had made it clear to him that she would not share his love with any woman, and he had sworn his fidelity to her alone. Thus, this unborn babe might well be born heir to the throne of Poseidon. And if the pregnancy came to grief, it could affect the line of succession if Rhiannon never quickened again.
“I would give my life for this babe,” Morgan said, “but Rhiannon means more to me.” His eyes glistened with tears as he rocked her against him. “My wife,” he murmured softly. “My own sweet wife.”
Fresh blood seeped into the mattress, and Athena grasped both of her daughter's hands. “Let me tend to her,” she urged Morgan. “Go to Danu. She's frightened.” She looked meaningfully at him. “Danu saw Rhiannon in this condition and saw the stains on her tunic.”
Morgan looked into Rhiannon's blank eyes. “Why doesn't she know me? What's happened to her? What could cause this?”
“Leave her to me,” Athena repeated. “Rhiannon is bone of my bone. I will not give her or her child up without a fight, but this is healer's work and no place for a husband.”
Rhiannon laughed. “The octopi dance for me,” she whispered. “They dance and dance. Don't you see them?”
Morgan laid her head back against the cushions. “Save her for me,” he said. “Save them both.”
“If I can, I will,” Athena promised. She did not tell him that she suspected witchcraft. It would frighten him needlessly. If this was magic, it would take stronger magic to fight it. And it might be that she would have to sacrifice the child for the mother.
The prince rose to his feet. “She is my life,” he said. “Without her, I'm nothing.”
“Without her, you're still Danu's father,” Athena said harshly. “She needs you. Go to your child and be strong for her. And let nothing so foolish slip from your lips again.”
CHAPTER 15
“
I
've done all you ask, great lord,” Halimeda said. “Will you not acknowledge my service?” Her voice echoed down the cavern, coming back to her in waves. “…
All you ask … All you ask
…”
The massive stone head stared down at her with sightless eyes. Around her there was no life, no schools of fish, no scuttling crabs or waving sea grass, only cold rock and shadows. Halimeda had walked in the deepest part of the Atlantic, and she had swum beneath the frozen North Sea, but this cold seeped through to her bones. This place exuded a chill of unleashed power and it thrilled her.
Again, she congratulated herself on the wisdom of pledging her allegiance to the Phoenician god of war. Melqart would fulfill her greatest wishes, and he would raise her son to the throne of Atlantis. Any sacrifice was worth the prize. Almost any sacrifice, she hedged in her mind. So long as she retained her place and her beauty, she would be the true ruler of the Atlantean kingdom. She would sit in the place of honor, and her son, Caddoc, would defer to her in all things as he always had. After centuries, she would come into her own, and all who had slighted her would pay with their lives.
“Lord Melqart! Hear me,” she cried. “I have cast a spell on the Atlantean royal princess. Even now, her child writhes in the womb and fights for breath. And the mother walks in madness.”
Silence.
“Am I not to be rewarded?” she demanded. “Will you not raise my son to high king as you promised?”
The stones beneath her feet shifted and the walls swayed. From somewhere deep in the mountain, she could smell smoke and sulfur and hear the rumble of an awakening volcano.
He comes
, she thought.
Melqart comes at my bidding.
“Why do you trouble me with trifles?” The voice did not pour from the stone head or from the cave. It vibrated within her head.
“Trifles? It is no trifle,” she flung back peevishly
. How could he not see her genius?
“Show me another sorceress so powerful, one who can make herself invisible and slip into the heart of Poseidon's palace to strike at his daughter-in-law.”
“I am displeased!”
“Displeased? How can you be displeased? The princess is a jabbering idiot. She will miscarry her brat—and she will quicken with child no more.” Of that, Halimeda was certain. How could Morgan go to the bed of a half-wit who wove without thread and sang foolish songs about dancing octopi? He would be disgusted. Any real man would not go within twenty leagues of such an abomination. And soon, her beauty would fade. Perhaps they would lock Rhiannon away—even wall her up as she had done with Princess Morwena.
The features on the polished stone head, a head as high and wide as a man was tall, began to take on life. The eyes, which had been empty sockets, glowed red, and the monstrous mouth opened. “Hold your tongue, witch, or I'll rip it out!”
“But you don't seem to realize what I've done for you!”
“What you've done for me? You are the one who wants revenge on Poseidon! This nonsense about the princess and her bewitching is all your idea.”
Halimeda raised her chin. Like all males, the great one saw only the most direct path. She was his servant, but she would not be bullied. He must see that she was a worthy ally. He must give her the respect she was due. “Ending Prince Morgan's line undermines Poseidon's grip on the crown. A kingship must pass father to son. Morgan has sworn a blood oath not to take another wife so long as Rhiannon lives. If he goes back on his word, the people will not accept him as heir.”
“This petty ruler, this Poseidon of whom you go on at great length, he has many other sons, does he not? The twin warrior-heroes Orion and Alexandros? The younger sons by his high queen Korinna? The snot-nosed boys of his minor wives and courtesans—any of which, I remind you, witch, can ascend the throne of Atlantis. And unless he had lost his desire, he has the hammer and anvil to make dozens more.”
“The petty princes can be dealt with.”
The hooded eyes narrowed. “I suppose you will put them all to knitting booties and teach each prince to sing your stupid octopi song.”
“I had to start somewhere. Morgan is crown prince. It was logical to begin with him.”
The head remained silent for a long time, so long that Halimeda's stomach began to growl and she remembered how hungry she was. She would have to talk to Lord Melqart about the food. His jest had gone on long enough. It was time he ended the charade and permitted her to enjoy her meat again.
“I know what you're thinking,” the voice inside her whispered. “Do you think you can blaspheme in your mind, and I won't know it?”
Anger made her bold. “How do I blaspheme? Have I insulted you by word or deed? Show me another servant of yours who will tell you the truth.”
The head roared to life. The face contorted and leaned from the wall to loom over her. Heat blasted her skin and blistered her eyes and throat. “What truth would you tell me, sorceress?”
Whimpering, she fell to her knees and clapped her hands over her eyes. The pain was excruciating. A thrill ran through her. Yes, the pain was terrible—almost sexual. She had always enjoyed mixing pain with her pleasure, in the correct amounts, of course. She'd even given Poseidon a sharkskin whip to use in their most intimate games.
“Maybe I could find a suitable toy for you,” Melqart suggested. “One with barbs of volcanic glass on the tips?”
“No, no, that won't be necessary,” she whined.
“I'm waiting.”
Halimeda began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to come here, to confront Melqart. How was she to have guessed he would be in this mood? “I have a gift … a special gift for you, my lord,” she said hesitantly. “A worthy sacrifice for your altar.”
“And what makes you think I need you to find sacrifices for me?” he roared.
She shielded her face with her hands. The heat had ruined her nails, and she'd spent hours getting them just right. “And when is the last time you've been offered a royal virgin?”
“Male or female?”
“Female. I can lay an Atlantean princess in your flames. How would you like that? Surely that is a source of power.”
“You think I haven't had my share of royal flesh? The kings of Phoenicia regularly offered me their firstborn—and all the princesses I wanted. And the Emperor of Chin once sent me—”
“A long time ago,” Halimeda said. “Two thousand years, at least. And since then, what has it been? Drunken Dutch sailors? A half-drowned whore your lazy priests scooped out of an Etruscan ditch and stuffed in a wine cask to keep her flesh from rotting before it reached your temple? You call that a proper sacrifice for a god?”
“That may have happened once, but it wasn't a habit. And I compensated by taking the ship and all aboard, including the misbegotten priests. And one was a virgin, the son of an olive merchant. He was without blemish. Quite satisfactory.”
“But fat, very fat. They needed a block and tackle to get him onboard the vessel as I remember.”
“I didn't know that. How did you know that?”
“I watched them. Do you think I've spent my entire life in a conch shell? I've served other gods beside you. There used to be more of you. Remember Dionysus?”
“Second rate. Not in my league, witch.”
“But very popular in his day.”
“You babble on about has-beens,” Melqart grumbled.
“I'm just saying.”
“Out with it. Saying what?”
She heard the weakness in his voice. He was vulnerable. More than a man, perhaps, but with all the failings of one. “You require proper sacrifice and worship. You need humans, mer folk, and Atlanteans to fear you. When your kind ceases to be remembered by the living, you will fade.”
“How dare you!” The ground shook again and from deep beneath the earth she heard the roar of a demonic bull. Stones began to fall from the ceiling of the hall and the floor to crumble under her feet. Steam rose through the cracks, and from somewhere deep, she could hear the bubbling hiss of molten lava.
Halimeda threw herself flat and covered her head with her hands. Melqart's rages were much like Poseidon's. If you could survive the first blast, they would pass.
“What of Thera? And Crete?” he demanded. “Who reached up with a fist and crushed them? Who smashed their toy palaces and cities and let the water flow over their bodies?”
“You, mighty one,” she answered meekly. “But, that has been some time ago. I do not see the tribute ships sailing to your shrines or the thousands of followers you had when Phoenicia ruled the seas.”
“And Carthage. Don't forget Carthage.”
“Struck down by the Romans with younger gods,” she reminded him.
“And all this will be solved with the sacrifice of one skinny Atlantean virgin?”
“Not all, but it will be a start. And she isn't skinny. She's quite … quite nubile.” That was the closest she would come to complimenting Morwena's figure. “Remember, the longest swim begins with a single stroke.”
“That isn't the way I heard it.”
“Well, you must have misheard. That is a quote from my ancestress Iphigeneia—not Agamemnon's daughter. That chit was named after my ancestress, the famous Atlantean philosopher who married a nobleman, a visitor from the stars and went with him to his own kingdom.”
“If she did, he probably intended her as food for his journey home.”
“No, it's true. I swear. He adored her.”
“Liar. Agamemnon killed Iphigeneia himself as a sacrifice to me.”
“I just told you. I speak of an earlier Iphigeneia, the grandmother of my grandmother on my father's side. And, for the record, Agamemnon gave the blood of his daughter to Artemis.”
“Who served me. Artemis was nothing before I took her in hand.”
“Yes, yes,” Halimeda said. “But we know how that turned out for Agamemnon, don't we? So he hardly set an example that other men would wish to follow.”
“You claim that humans no longer fear me? No longer tremble and prostrate themselves at my name?”
“Not many,” she replied. “Most worship coin or the paper equivalent, rather than musty entities.”
“Hmm. I will see this
virgin princess
you boast of, but if she isn't worthy, I'll throw her to my shades. I will have only the finest stock sacrificed on my altar.”
“She will please you. You have my word.”
The earth stopped shaking. Water and steam stopped pouring through the walls. The ceiling ceased to crumble. She waited, knowing that Melqart knew that she'd gotten the better of him and would change the subject to cover his loss of face.
“Where is this son of whom you brag?” he said finally. “Why doesn't he come to worship at my feet?”
“He will come, Lord Melqart. He will come.”
His voice dropped to a rumbling murmur. “You claim to serve me, and yet you allow thieves to steal from me.”
“What?” She blinked.
What was he talking about
?
“From me!!!”
So loud and terrifying was the voice in her head that Halimeda fell to her knees and clutched at her skull. The pain was so intense that her vision clouded and her teeth became red-hot spikes. “Have mercy!” she cried.
“Gold from my tribute ship!”
“Long ago,” she wailed.
“Not long ago. Now! Only days ago!”
“I didn't know. What would you have me do, lord?” she begged. He had been toying with her all along. He was displeased, and this was no act. She had made things worse by wounding his pride, and he wouldn't forgive her for that. Her life and that of her son hung by a single thread of sea grass.
“Send your son to find the thief and bring her to me!”
“Bring who?” Halimeda asked. She was so frightened that she lost control of her bladder. Urine ran down her legs and snot from her nose. “Who has stolen from your gold?”
“Find the thief!” he thundered. “Find the thief and return my treasure or I will strike your precious son deaf and blind! I will send armies to rip out his throat and tear out his manhood. I will have justice, or you will watch as I destroy Caddoc.”
“No, lord. Don't. Please! I have been a faithful servant to you.”
“He is mine to do with as I please. You have given his soul to me of your own free will.” The entity laughed, long and loud and mocking. “And, Halimeda?”
“Yes, lord, I'm listening.”
“If he dies, your beauty dies with him. You will live on, a powerless, toothless, hairless hag, an object of pity. You will beg your bread from door to door and all of Atlantis will know that you were a mother so greedy that you sold your only son for a harlot's price.”

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