Oceanborne (26 page)

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Authors: Katherine Irons

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Oceanborne
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Elena stopped to admire the sculptures. The mermaids were carved of single blocks of white marble, four times life size. One was captured in the act of throwing a fishing net, the second played an Irish harp, and the third cradled an infant and wept for her lost human lover. “How magnificent,” Elena said. “They seem almost alive.”
“There's a wonderful story about these mermaids. They're supposed to be three sisters. Orion can tell it better than I can. He's a wonderful storyteller, but I suppose you already know that about him.” Morwena had no doubts that this woman meant more to her brother than he'd said.
Elena shook her head. “No, I didn't know that about him. I do know that he has a huge imagination and a smooth way with words.”
“He took minor orders in the priesthood as a bard. He's a warrior first and foremost, of course, but he can hold an audience spellbound. And he has a beautiful singing voice. Most of our bards sing as well as recite the old tales and poetry.”
Elena stared at her in confusion. “Orion is a priest?”
“Perhaps not the same as in your world. One of my tutors told me that your priests are celibate. Is that true?”
“Some are, but there are different religions. I imagine it's the same with you.”
“Among the Atlanteans, a celibate male … or a female would be an oddity. I've never heard of one.” She shrugged. “We are a sensual race, not so much as the mermaids, but much more than humans. Love is an art among us, one we all strive to explore as fully as possible.”
An alarmed hiss and an angry series of clicks caught Morwena's attention. “Wait here.” She motioned to Elena. “I'm not sure what's upsetting Freyja.” She slipped her bow from her shoulder, hurried to the high gate, and pushed it open.
“Freyja? What—” Someone grabbed her and slammed her against the stone wall, knocking the breath out of her. The bow fell from her numbed fingers, and she heard Freyja squeal in distress.
“Is something wrong?” Elena followed her through the gateway.
A man grabbed Morwena by the throat. Not any man—Caddoc's crony, the tongue-less Samoan. He had a sack in his hand and tried to pull it over her head. “Freyja!” Morwena cried. “Help me!” She kicked out at Tora and struggled to break free.
With an angry hiss, Freyja swam at the Samoan, butting him hard with her head. Tora twisted and jabbed the dolphin with a long spike. Blood streamed from the wound.
“Stop!” Morwena shouted. “Help me!” Tora's fingers dug into her throat and she struggled to pry them away. He shoved her hard against the wall again. Her head hit the stone, nearly knocking her senseless. The Samoan thrust his face inches from hers. He was so close that she could smell his foul breath. His small eyes burned with menace.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded. “Let me go!”
Tora backhanded her. He raised the sack again, and tried to cover her face with it, but she'd brought a knee up, hitting him hard in the testicles. He grunted, took a step back, and swung a fist at her face.
Abruptly, Elena appeared behind Tora. She beat him over the head and struck at his eyes with the bow. Tora dropped Morwena and lunged at Elena, but she dodged away. He came after her and was met by an enraged Freyja. The dolphin rammed him in his midsection, knocking him off his feet, and then bit a chunk out of his arm. The Samoan seized his spike and tried to stab Freyja again with it.
“Run,” Morwena managed to say. “Save yourself.” Her throat hurt so that she could hardly speak. “Call the guards!”
Elena helped her to her feet, got an arm around her, and helped her to swim back toward the gate.
“My bow,” Morwena whispered hoarsely. “Give me the bow!” Her quiver hung by a broken strap. Most of the shafts were broken, but she pulled one intact arrow from the case.
Elena plucked the arrow from Morwena's hands, notched it in the bowstring, and let fly the arrow.
Tora howled as the missile pierced the back of his left thigh. He turned back toward the two of them, his face a mask of rage, and snapped the arrow shaft in two.
Freyja circled and charged Tora again. The Samoan backed against the wall and raised the spike. Morwena shouted a warning, but Freyja was beyond caution. The dolphin twisted, barely avoiding the Samoan's thrust and snapped at his face. Both man and dolphin were trailing blood. Freyja rolled, her dorsal fin quivering with fury. The man lunged at the dolphin, stabbing with the wicked spike.
“Freyja!” Morwena cried. “Come.” She pointed to the gate.
“Go on!” Elena shouted. She grabbed a broken arrow, put it to the string and released it. The shortened shaft hit the man low in the throat. It didn't go in deep, but it was enough to distract him. The dolphin passed over his head and swam toward the gate.
“Grab the harness,” Morwena ordered.
Elena seized hold of one side and Morwena the other. The big dolphin crashed through the gate, pulling both women with her into the courtyard. Two guards, several young warriors, and a martial arts instructor burst out of the library door and swam toward Morwena and Elena, weapons ready. Morwena gestured toward the shattered gate.
“A man tried to kill her!” Elena shouted.
“No,” Morwena corrected. “He didn't want to kill me. It was a kidnap attempt. It was Tora, the Samoan. Prince Caddoc's man. He attacked my dolphin. It won't be hard to recognize him, if you catch him. He has no tongue. And”—Morwena pointed at Elena—“she put an arrow in his thigh.”
“The human?” the instructor asked. She was a tall woman with short-cropped black hair, ivory wrist guards, and the short tunic and studded belt that proclaimed her expertise.
“My friend,” Morwena said. “She fought for me. She saved me.”
“He won't get far!” said one of the guards. The men rushed out in search of the assailant.
“Are you hurt, Princess?” the woman asked.
“Just roughed up.” Morwena swallowed and rubbed her throat. “My dolphin needs medical aid.”
More people were coming down the stairs from the library. Elena moved closer to Morwena, and the princess saw that she was shaken by the experience.
“You're sure you're all right?” Elena asked her.
One of the guards returned. “He's gone. We'll keep searching. Are you certain the human hit him?”
“Twice.” Morwena nodded. She suddenly felt tired. “Neither were killing shots,” she said, “but he's hurt. He'll need a physician.” She repeated Tora's name and description.
“And you have no idea why you were attacked?”
“No.” She turned away from the guard, her concern now for Freyja. The dolphin bore several deep lacerations which might need to be stitched. “I need to have someone tend Freyja. I want to take her to healers at the temple.”
The guard nodded. “Let me send an escort with you.” He eyed Elena. “I doubt they'll permit her to enter the temple.”
“She goes where I go,” Morwena said. “And any who wish to prevent her will have to take it up with my father the king.”
CHAPTER 24
“
I
was going to take you to meet my mother,” Morwena said as she and Elena walked out of the healing center, where they'd left Freyja to rest in the company of other dolphins recovering from illness or accidents. “But with war imminent, I'm afraid she'll be too busy to give you a proper welcome. We'll go to my brother's wife's apartments. You'll like Rhiannon, and the two of you will have much in common.”
“Why is that?” Elena asked. She'd passed the point of being astonished by all she saw around her in the city of Atlantis. Now, she was almost numb from senses overload. She'd felt the same way after spending hours in the Cairo museum the first time she'd visited.
How many objects of beauty could you see and process mentally, before it all began to run together?
In the short time since Orion had left her in Morwena's company, she'd seen a library that might have existed in ancient Athens or Alexandria before the time of Christ. She'd witnessed a vicious attack on her new friend Morwena by a monstrous man or creature, whatever Tora was, and walked through the marble halls of a crowded edifice that seemed a combination of med school, university, and place of worship combined. She'd seen lecture halls and science labs that made Harvard or Cambridge seem like rough country schoolhouses, and she witnessed medicine practiced in ways she'd not believed possible by elderly women in Greek garb. If this was a dream, and that possibility was becoming ever more unlikely, her imagination was far more powerful than she'd ever realized.
Everywhere Morwena had taken her, Elena had been treated with the utmost courtesy, and if she was an object of curiosity, her new acquaintances had taken pains to hide it. What she saw and heard around her was beyond the realm of belief, and yet, it seemed believable. Freyja, Morwena's dolphin friend, had been injured badly—had been bleeding from several deep wounds. Yet, a few minutes of attention from those Morwena referred to as gifted healers and the gashes on the dolphin's flesh had closed without stitching. The same healers had stopped the dolphin's blood loss and eased her pain, and they had done it by touch and mind power.
“Rhiannon is closer to your age,” Morwena said, pulling Elena back into the moment. “She and my brother Morgan are but newly married, and they're expecting their first child.”
“So Morgan is Orion's brother as well?”
Morwena laughed. “Yes. But we have many brothers. Our father is fond of women; unfortunately, his choices are not always the best. Morgan, Orion, and Alexandros, Orion's twin, are actually my half-brothers, but they've always seemed much closer. My mother gave birth to me, to Paris, to Marcos, and Lucas, who are all younger than I am, and she's expecting again.”
“I didn't know that you … that your people had such large families.”
“We don't usually, but our father is Poseidon. He is the exception to the rule.”
“Poseidon.” Elena tried to take that in. “As in the Greek god of the sea?”
Morwena laughed merrily. “Our father isn't a god, although Mother often accuses him of thinking he is. I'm sure it would flatter him to hear you say so. He's high king of Atlantis, and as such, he is expected to have many wives and as many children as he can sire.”
“Sounds like something out of the dark ages.”
Morwena shrugged. “I think it's to prove the king's virility. It's an old custom for the king to have many wives and concubines, but my mother doesn't mind. She's the only queen with real power. She and our father go head to head at times, and he's often put out by it.”
“She confronts him?”
“And usually gets her way. Mother has many tricks up her sleeve. If arguing won't work, she sweet-talks him.”
“They … some of those people in the library … and afterwards … after the attack, they called you
princess
.”
Morwena nodded. “Yes.”
“And if Orion is your brother, he's … he's a prince?”
Morwena smiled. “He is, but don't be intimidated. He's only second or third in line to the throne. Morgan, Rhiannon's husband, is crown prince. He comes first. And then it would be either Alexandros or Orion, depending on which one my father is least angry with that day.”
“A prince of Atlantis.” Elena took a deep breath. You had to give it to her—if she was concocting a fantasy, this was a class-A one. “No chance Orion could turn into a frog if I kissed him, is there?”
“I doubt it,” Morwena answered. “Hasn't happened yet, has it? And I suspect the two of you have been up to more than a kiss or two.”
Elena shrugged. “I'll never tell.”
“You don't have to. I know my brother Orion.” Chuckling, Morwena led the way into a series of rooms filled with garments, a sort of dressing area where women of all ages were trying on clothes, applying makeup, and styling their hair. There, in a private closet off the main area, Morwena discarded her torn clothing, found a replacement tunic and sandals, and brushed and braided her hair.
“As Mother would say, I'm more presentable, now.” Morwena smiled. “I've always been a bit lax on personal attire.” She studied Elena carefully. “I think we need to find something new for you to wear as well.”
Morwena called to an attendant who hurried out and returned shortly with an armload of clothing. Morwena examined the dresses and chose a shapeless garment. “Try this one,” she suggested to Elena.
Dubious, Elena stripped off her clothing and dropped the tunic over her head. It fit as though it had been tailored especially for her. “Lovely,” she said, fingering the silken material that fell to her ankles. “What's it made of?”
“I'm not sure,” Morwena said, brushing a fingertip across the material. “Probably zuryilon skin. That's a sort of fish from the deepest part of the mid-Atlantic trench. The skin is nearly transparent and takes a gold wash beautifully. See the minute scale pattern when you hold it up to the light.”
“Fish skin?” The sides of the graceful skirt were slit to allow free movement, and the color was a pale gold. The styling was classic and Grecian, and Elena, who rarely took trouble with her own choice of dress, was astonished at how attractive and feminine the gown made her feel.
“It suits you,” Morwena said as she slid a heavy gold bracelet onto Elena's arm. “And you should have earrings.” She produced crystals set in gold that looked very Indian. “Perfect,” she said as Elena slipped them into her ears.
“I can't believe I'm wearing fish skin,” Elena said. She sniffed the material and smelled nothing but the clean scent of salt water with the faintest hint of lime. “Are you certain that no one will mind if I borrow these things?”
“We don't think of that,” Morwena said. “The tunic is yours for so long as you want it. You can have as many as you like. They're here for any who want them. I wear them all the time. The seamstresses weave blessings into the material to ease fatigue and aid in learning. They would be very happy to know you take pleasure from their handiwork.”
“But the jewelry must be very expensive. It looks old.”
“The sea gives us much, and what good are earrings if no one wears them?”
“So you don't have your own personal clothing or possessions ? You take from general stock such as—”
“I do have my own garments, mostly hunting clothes and attire for court functions. And enough chests of jewelry to satisfy a king's daughter. Those I keep in my private apartments in the palace, but I wear something from the temple stores, more often than not.” She chuckled. “I tend to be rough on my clothing, and I need a lot of replacements.”
Dressed and adorned, they left the area and took another hallway and a flight of wide stone steps to a smaller chamber where weapons were stored. There, Morwena found another bow and quiver of arrows and a slender dagger with an ivory handle. “Would you like something ?” she asked Elena.
“No, no, thank you. I'm generally opposed to violence.”
“For a peacemaker, you did well enough. Without your interference, Tora might have succeeded in kidnapping me, or worse.” She selected a small belt and sheath and found a delicate knife with a curved blade to fit the case. “Take this one, to appease me,” Morwena urged. “You might come upon a contrary shark or a moray eel that doesn't want to be your friend.”
“All right.” Elena chuckled and gave in gracefully. “Just don't expect me to fight off any big Samoans,” she warned as she strapped on the belt. The knife fell just below her hip and, after a short while, as they walked on through the temple corridors and courtyards, filled with students, teachers, and visitors, Elena could almost forget that it was there.
As they passed through a magnificent atrium filled with statuary, two men, deep in conversation, came down a curving flight of stairs to the left. Elena stopped short and stared. Only a few yards and a particularly beautiful column of pink marble separated them. The older of the two men, a distinguished gray-haired person of obvious importance drew her attention. She stared at him in disbelief, her heart hammering against her ribs. “It can't be …” Elena whispered.
“What is it?” Morwena asked. “What's wrong?”
Elena opened her mouth to speak, but her throat clenched. Was it … It was impossible … yet … Tears sprang to her eyes, clouding her vision. “There,” she managed, gesturing in the direction of the man.
He paused to scan the atrium as though he was searching for an acquaintance. For an instant, Elena's gaze locked with his, and the man's eyes widened in surprise. Abruptly, he turned away. His erect, almost military, posture stiffened. Ignoring the obvious confusion of his companion, he retraced his steps, hurrying back up the staircase and vanishing around the first corner at the landing. After a moment's hesitation, the younger man followed.
Elena's voice cracked. “Who … was that?”
“Lord Mikhail and his steward. I don't know the steward's name but—”
“Mikhail? Are you sure?” She was trembling.
How could it be him? He was dead—lost at sea when she was eleven.
“Positive. He's head of …” Morwena hesitated. “National security.” She smiled. “He's my aunt's consort, practically my uncle. He will be if they marry as court gossip says they might.” She took Elena's arm. “Are you all right? Your face is as white as a
czastek
.”
“He looked like … for a moment, I thought …” Elena took a deep breath. “I just mistook him for someone I … someone I used to know.” She swallowed. “Sorry, I'm afraid I wasn't thinking clearly.”
“Understandable. Orion said the two of you came from the fairy kingdom not long ago. Time travel can upset your system for days, especially if you've never experienced it before.”
“That must be it,” Elena said, attempting to cover her shock.
Time travel? That was one more unexplainable question to add to the others.
She forced a smile. “I'm fine, really.” Her heart still raced
. How was it possible that Lord Mikhail had such an uncanny resemblance to her father ?
“Not far to go,” Morwena said. “You probably haven't had anything proper to eat, either. Orion has the constitution of a shark, and he forgets others may not be as resilient as he is.” She squeezed Elena's hand. “But, since we're passing this way, I thought you might like to take a quick look into this hall.” She turned right, followed a wider passageway and then led Elena under a magnificent marble archway into a round amphitheatre that featured displays around its rim. The arched roof seemed made of glass or some other transparent material; above her, Elena saw a living kaleidoscope of fish, dolphins, and other sea life.
“Wonderful,” she said, still trying to shake off what had just happened. Maybe Morwena was right. Maybe she was just hungry, overtired, and disoriented.
“This hall is a children's museum of human archeological treasures,” Morwena explained. “Miniature reproductions of structures and sites which were once on dry land that the sea has reclaimed.” She motioned to a diorama of a hillside and a circle of standing stones. In the center was a flat stone with the carving of a large and elaborate sword cut into the rock. “You may be familiar with this tomb,” Morwena said. “It's fairly recent.”
Elena nodded. “The pattern is similar to Stonehenge in England,” she said, attempting to make her voice sound as normal as possible.
“Yes, the site is much older than the purpose for which it was adapted. One of your hero-kings was buried here. Arthur Pendragon. The burial place lies perhaps a half mile off the coast of Cornwall.”
“This is a copy of something that once existed?”
“Of something that exists today.”
Thoughts of the stranger who'd so unnerved her receded. “Really?” Elena could hardly contain her excitement. “King Arthur's grave?” Such a find would prove once and for all that he wasn't myth but a flesh-and-blood man.

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