Authors: Katherine Irons
Waterborne (3 page)
’Enakai studied the human woman. “She doesn’t look like a witch. What’s wrong with her?”
“Another human, jealous of her powers, shot her with his gun,” Alex lied smoothly. “I was in the process of transforming her, to restore her life force, when I realized that she needed the art of your healers.”
“So you admit to inadequacy?” ’Enakai said. Her women twittered like Balinese oysters.
“In some areas, your highness.” He flashed her a smile. “But not in others.”
“If we save your little pet, there will be a price to pay.”
“Restore her to health, and then we will talk of payment.”
’Enakai motioned to an older woman with purple skin and an elaborate turban covering every strand of her hair. “Take the creature to the temple, but keep close watch over her. If she is a witch, see that she casts no spells.”
“I hear and obey, light of the sea.” The woman placed her palms together, bowed low, and then summoned two of the female guards to take the human from Alex’s arms.
“Treat her with kindness,” Alex said to the turbaned matron.
“And you?” ’Enakai demanded. “How should we treat you?”
“As a royal ambassador from Poseidon’s court to yours, your highness. As you would wish to be welcomed, if you were a guest in my father’s house.”
“I will consider your request,” ’Enakai said coldly. “Until then, you may consider what other pleasures we might have in store for you.” She clapped her hands. “Take him away. I’ve wasted enough time on him and his pet. There are other matters which demand my attention.”
“Take him where?” The heavily tattooed captain of the guard stepped forward and slammed a fist against her right shoulder-shield in salute. She was a striking specimen, even among the ranks of her Amazon comrades. Her scales were gilt rather than green in hue, and the luxurious weight of her lavender scalp-lock hung behind her to mid-thigh, proof that she had never been bested in battle.
“To the dungeons. Where else would we house an enemy intruder? But leave him a single light-fish. We would not cast him into total darkness like barbarians.” She smiled with her mouth, but her eyes remained crystalline chips of ice. “I trust you are in no hurry to return to your own kingdom, Prince Alexandros,” she said.
Alex inclined his head slightly. “No hurry at all.” His weapons had been confiscated at the wall of fire, after he’d been overwhelmed by Lemorians and before he was escorted into the city proper. He was no coward, but neither was he a fool. Now, he assumed a stoic expression as his wrists and ankles were bound in lengths of silver chain, and he was surrounded by a platoon of female soldiers.
Lemorians stared and pointed as the guard hustled him down the columned hallway with its rows of giant oysters and outcrops of living coral. The palace was unlike that of Atlantis, despite the widespread use of marble floors and walls, as much of it was roofed over in woven kelp as the humans of the Polynesian cultures used thatch on their dwellings. Here, the pink coral columns were carved into the shape of giant palm trees, and great stone heads with jade eyes reared from the ocean floor at every turn. The dungeons lay deep below the seafloor beneath a massive complex of windowless pyramids.
Nothing could prevent a feeling of unease as the guards led him deeper and deeper into the prison. Here, the passageways were narrow and low, the cells small and dark. Alex could hear the cries of prisoners as they strode past. Some extended hands or tentacles as they pleaded for food; others proclaimed their innocence and begged for justice. Others merely howled for a merciful death.
As if reading Alex’s mind, the captain of the guard stopped and stared at him with obvious contempt. She was a formidable warrior with wide shoulders and muscular thighs. Her arms and legs bore the scars of many battles, as well as the elaborate tattoos proclaiming her prowess in battle. She retained both breasts, which were high and shapely, but somewhere in the past, she had lost an eye. A patch covered the missing orbit but did not completely hide a healed scar.
“It may be that you too will be forgotten here, Atlantean scum,” she said. Her voice was husky, as if she were more accustomed to giving orders than offering sarcasm. “Many prisoners are. It might have been kinder had the supreme one ordered you thrown into the flow.”
He looked into her eyes. “My name is Alexandros.”
“I am Anuata of the Hundred Battles.” Her features hardened. “Don’t think to use your courtly wiles on me,” she warned. “I’ve killed more of your kind than I have scales on this hand.”
“Anuata. It means woman of the shadows, if I remember my Lemorian,” he said. “I will remember you.”
“As I you, prince of Atlantis.” Her tone grew deeper. “Look well on my face. It might be the last you ever look upon.” She pointed to a low door in the wall, and another soldier flung it open. “Inside,” Anuata ordered.
Darkness loomed within. “’Enakai commanded that you leave me a light-fish,” Alex reminded her.
She smiled. “Don’t tell me that you fear the dark, warrior-prince?”
One of her companions chuckled, and Anuata stiffened and rested a hand on the curved knife at her waist. Instantly, the soldier dropped her gaze and mumbled in submission. Anuata shrugged and pulled a small light-fish from the pouch at her waist. “Enjoy it,” she said to Alex. “For when that goes out, you will learn what darkness truly is.”
CHAPTER 3
“K
ill him. He’s too dangerous to keep alive.” Caddoc rose up on one elbow and gazed at ’Enakai with heavy-lidded eyes. She’d pleased him well this night, and he was certain that she was equally impressed with his prowess. Any male Atlantean worth his salt was better in bed than a dozen pampered Lemorian men, and Caddoc had long prided himself on his sexual vigor and creativity in matters of physical pleasure.
ill him. He’s too dangerous to keep alive.” Caddoc rose up on one elbow and gazed at ’Enakai with heavy-lidded eyes. She’d pleased him well this night, and he was certain that she was equally impressed with his prowess. Any male Atlantean worth his salt was better in bed than a dozen pampered Lemorian men, and Caddoc had long prided himself on his sexual vigor and creativity in matters of physical pleasure.
“Your own brother?” ’Enakai brushed aside a length of midnight-black hair and stared back at him. Her lips were bruised and slightly swollen and her bare breasts bore the imprint of his teeth.
Yes, Caddoc thought.
She has the look of a woman well serviced.
He smiled at her. In the throne room, ’Enakai might command the respect of all Lemoria, but here, in her bed, she was just a woman, hungry and grateful for what he could give her. “Come here,” he commanded.
She has the look of a woman well serviced.
He smiled at her. In the throne room, ’Enakai might command the respect of all Lemoria, but here, in her bed, she was just a woman, hungry and grateful for what he could give her. “Come here,” he commanded.
She laughed and tossed her head.
He could still taste her sweet juices on his tongue, and as she crawled across the bed toward him, he felt his groin tightening with desire. This time, he would throw her down and ride her like a dolphin until she screamed. He grabbed hold of a section of her hair and wound it around his fist. “On your knees, woman,” he ordered.
“Ohh ...”
She squealed as he flipped her face down so that her naked buttocks lay nestled like pearls on the bed of seaweed. He was rock-hard as he covered her with his body and plunged deep inside her.
“Ah ... ah.”
The sensation of her ridged passage excited him even more. Groaning, he yanked the rope of her hair across her mouth to silence her as he drove into her again and again. She bucked and twisted, intensifying his pleasure, and he used his free hand to grasp one of her breasts, squeezing and kneading her soft flesh until spasms of excitement rocked her body. He could feel his own climax gathering, rising to a crescendo of need. The scent of her was maddening, whipping and magnifying his urge to possess her fully. Again and again he pounded his engorged phallus into her.
“You’re mine, ’Enakai!” he screamed. “Mine! Do you understand! I am king here!” And finally, with those words, he slipped over the edge of the chasm and he found the sweet release that so often eluded him.
Satiated and panting, he fell back against the cushions. Dimly, he heard her sobbing beside him, whether from pain or pleasure, he didn’t know or care. He seized a handful of her thick hair and pulled her to him, using that dark, silken mass to wipe himself clean. He wondered whether his seed would take root in her belly. Perhaps. Atlantean-Lemorian hybrids were possible, and he imagined he was as virile as his father. And if she did quicken with his offspring it might strengthen his position here in ’Enakai’s kingdom.
“Do as I say,” he murmured, stroking her back, marveling at the erotic texture of her indigo scales and the tiny stub of a ridged tail that so intrigued him. “Kill Alexandros at once.”
She lifted her head. “And what of the human female?”
Caddoc shrugged. “Kill her as well. Or throw her into the flow. It will please your priestesses, won’t it? They’re always pestering you for fresh sacrifices.”
“And if I do dispose of Prince Alexandros, does that put you one step closer to Poseidon’s throne?”
“I am the eldest. The crown should have been mine when our father died. If you would lend your support, I could still be high king.”
“My support or my armies?” She chuckled. “You’re ambitious, Caddoc. I like that in a man. It’s refreshing.”
His hand tightened around her wrist. “Then you’ll help me? When I’m Poseidon—”
“Not when, but if,” she said. “I’ll think about it. I’d have to be convinced that it would be in Lemoria’s favor to make war on Atlantis. My first duty is to my own kingdom. Wars are costly in many ways. My people would be hard to persuade.”
He lifted her hand and pressed kisses against her knuckles. “Your word is law. No one would dare to oppose your decision.”
She nibbled her bottom lip thoughtfully. “You don’t understand, my darling. It’s easy to command people to do what they want to do, not so much if they disagree. I am the supreme ruler because I give the Lemorians what they desire—peace, plenty, freedom.”
“You’re too soft, ’Enakai. A queen should not concern herself with the opinions of lesser mortals. When I am Poseidon, I’ll rule with an iron hand. You’ll see then what—”
“Enough of such serious talk,” she purred. “The night grows short, and I have an early council meeting in the morning. We should make the most of the time we have left ... ” She smiled at him suggestively. “Unless you’re already weary?”
“Never.”
She shrieked with laughter as he seized her shoulders and pressed her back against the cushions. He ground his mouth against hers and wrapped his legs around hers. He wasn’t sure if she would heed his advice or not, but he wasn’t without resources. Alex needed to be eliminated, and if she couldn’t see that, he’d have to take matters into his own hands. Warrior or not, a man in prison was vulnerable. Anything could happen to him. And if he suffered a fatal accident, doubtless ’Enakai would be pleased that her problem had been solved for her, without her having to give the order.
Ree opened her eyes and stifled a scream. What appeared to be a giant, eight-armed, lime-green octopus with bulging red eyes hovered inches from her face. She threw up her arms to protect herself just as the cephalopod mollusk recoiled and backed water, apparently equally shocked to find Ree staring at it.
For an instant, a spattering of loud static blasted inside her head. The noise was so painful that Ree clamped both hands over her ears. Almost at once, the sound altered, becoming first a series of clicking and then something that resembled a blue whale’s song. Ree blinked, trying to orient herself. Where was she? She didn’t think she was dreaming, yet ... she seemed to be floating in a pale blue liquid in some enormous fish tank.
Is this reality or a drugged state?
Years of training had taught her to trust her own senses, but never to discount the possibility of illusion—either chemical or psychic.
Years of training had taught her to trust her own senses, but never to discount the possibility of illusion—either chemical or psychic.
“Mean ... you ... we not hurt.”
Ree caught her breath and looked at the green octopus. Was it smiling? Could an octopus smile or was that the look it gave you before you became its dinner? If the thing wanted to eat her, she doubted that she could stop it. Still ... Had it just spoken to her? In Pidgin English? If this was an illusion, it was an odd one. And if it was reality. . . Simply considering the possibility made her dizzy.
“Not ... hurt. Healing ... we mean you good ... human female.”
The message was definitely coming from inside her head, rather than from outside. The meaning was plain, and the language was a form of English, even if the pronunciation was somewhere between that spoken in Glasgow and Australia. If this wasn’t a dream, someone had slipped her some powerful drugs. But she didn’t feel drugged. In fact, she felt great, strong, healthy, and hungry. When had she eaten last?
As if reading her mind, the octopus spoke again. “Have you ... wanting the need to feed?”
“Where am I?” Following her host’s pattern, Ree didn’t speak the question but thought it.
“Healing ... place ... temple place.”
Ree fought to regain her balance. She was obviously submerged, but she wasn’t having any problem breathing. She took a better look at the octopus as it swam closer to her. It was bigger, larger even than she’d first calculated, and definitely different in appearance from the ones that had appeared on her dinner plate. She considered the possibility that this
thing,
whatever it was, had only
assumed
the form of an octopus. She’d come in contact with beings not generally included in the population counts of first world countries, but never a talking octopus. She decided to reserve judgment.
thing,
whatever it was, had only
assumed
the form of an octopus. She’d come in contact with beings not generally included in the population counts of first world countries, but never a talking octopus. She decided to reserve judgment.
“Be not fear,” the creature said in a gentle voice. The pronunciation was becoming clearer, or at least easier for Ree to understand.
She’d lost track of time, but she didn’t think she was delusional. She distinctly remembered being in the outside shower on the deck of the
Anastasiya.
She had perfect recall of Varenkov shooting her with a Makarov PMM semi-automatic, 9 mm. She’d taken more than one direct hit to the midsection, another to her arm, and her hip. She remembered the shock of the bullets striking her hard, like blows from a hammer. There must have been pain, but that blurred into blackness. Things got hazy after that.
Anastasiya.
She had perfect recall of Varenkov shooting her with a Makarov PMM semi-automatic, 9 mm. She’d taken more than one direct hit to the midsection, another to her arm, and her hip. She remembered the shock of the bullets striking her hard, like blows from a hammer. There must have been pain, but that blurred into blackness. Things got hazy after that.
The blue man ... Just before Varenkov appeared on deck, one of the guards had assaulted her and ...
Shit!
There had definitely been a blue man. What had happened to the blue man?
Shit!
There had definitely been a blue man. What had happened to the blue man?
She’d been born with extraordinary mental gifts and had spent years improving her abilities. But now, she was totally at a loss. If she’d taken that many bullets to her belly, she should be dead or mortally wounded. Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her midsection, expecting to see a gaping wound, but there was nothing but pink scar tissue. Likewise, her arm, chest, hip, and thigh seemed to bear faint scars but no shattered bone and flesh. The fact that she was stark naked registered, but didn’t seem important at the moment.
“Am I dead?” she asked. There was the distinct titter of laughter from her fishy companion.
“Not. Living, you are. Feel you dead?”
Ree shook her head again. “This is a little overwhelming. You say I’m in a temple of healing ... a hospital of sorts. Where exactly?”
“In the sea, of course.”
“Of course.” She looked around again. The room seemed immense with rows of clear bubbles. Things were floating in the bubbles, but she wasn’t ready to consider what kinds of things they might be.
The walls and ceiling, if they were walls, were luminous, shimmering with a rainbow of colors. The light was soft, rather than glaring. “This doesn’t look much like Tahiti, which is where I was the last time I checked.”
“Lemoria, the mother of all cities.”
Her host’s speech flowed more smoothly now, or perhaps Ree had simply tuned her reception to a more powerful frequency. “In the Pacific Ocean?”
“The Lemorian Sea, yes. Some species call it the Pacific.”
“Was I ... was there someone with me? A man?”
“Rest now. All your questions must be satisfied when you meet with the great one. If you have need of sustenance, I can be arranging that.”
Ree made a stab at the obvious. After all, if you hear hoofbeats on the bridge, look for a horse, not a zebra. “You say I’m alive and not dead. Is this a drug induced dream?”
Again, the gentle laughter. “Awake and lucid you be. Strange it must seem for you, but all you see is real. You humans are not alone on this Earth, you know. Older races share this planet.”
That much, at least, Ree knew to be true. Still, she wasn’t one for trusting, least of all a talking octopus that she’d just met under dubious circumstances. “Am I in danger?”
“Not. Not. Suspicious you have, but be at peace. Consider. Easy to let you die. Not so easy to work the healing. Taken an oath, have I. No harm do I. Be welcome here. I will send food.” An arm extended. At the end of the tentacle was a bundle. “I have belief that your kind garbs themselves in lengths of material.” With that, her host swam away, disappearing through a small opening that appeared along one wall.
Ree looked around. The other bubbles gave off a low hum, and somewhere, she had the distinct feeling that she could hear water flowing, but she didn’t sense any immediate danger. Cautiously, she examined the garment the octopus had given her. Ree wasn’t familiar with the material, but it consisted of rows of tiny scales, was silver colored, and soft to the touch. Not knowing how it was supposed to be worn, she wrapped it sari-style around her hips and draped the remaining length over one shoulder and tucked it in. The cloth molded to her body, almost as if it were alive. A strip of similar material, sewn with pearls, floated to the floor. Ree retrieved it and used it to secure her hair into a single braid.
She rubbed her eyes and massaged her forehead.
Under the sea? Was it possible?
Somehow, it didn’t seem any stranger than being alive after being nearly murdered by Varenkov or coming in contact with a mysterious blue man. This situation had definitely never been covered by any of her textbooks or instructors. High rises, jungles, desert terrain, urban nightspots and alleys, but never the floor of the Pacific Ocean.
Under the sea? Was it possible?
Somehow, it didn’t seem any stranger than being alive after being nearly murdered by Varenkov or coming in contact with a mysterious blue man. This situation had definitely never been covered by any of her textbooks or instructors. High rises, jungles, desert terrain, urban nightspots and alleys, but never the floor of the Pacific Ocean.
It was possible that she hadn’t died, that the Russian had taken her somewhere for medical treatment and then had her shot full of drugs, the better to soften her up for interrogation. But that seemed out of character for Varenkov. If he’d suspected that she was there to kill him and he wanted to take her prisoner, a single bullet to the kneecap would have been sufficient to put her out of action. No, he’d definitely intended to eliminate her. And if she was being held for ransom or whatever, there were a lot of other scenarios more consistent with Varenkov’s organization.
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