Cursed Throne: Lord of the Ocean #2 Read online

  Directly in the manta ray’s line of fire.

  “I’ll take out the manta,” Zamir said. “You stay here and keep an eye on the submersibles. If any of them start heading toward Kai, take them out.”

  “What about the one with Ondine in it?” Ginny asked.

  “It would make the perfect first target.” Zamir bent his legs as the giant manta swooped toward them. Gauging the distance, he shoved off the ocean floor and caught on to the lower edge of the manta’s mouth.

  Sensing the change in weight and drag, the manta soared upward, carrying Zamir with it. Now, to swing his feet over the manta’s back and steer it straight into a rock wall.

  But as Zamir hauled himself up, he peered into the manta’s mouth, large enough to fit two people. The sides of its mouth were lined with little round things that looked like barnacles, but that Zamir suspected were sonic emitters. The mantas were running on legacy programming, fulfilling their one order—to keep the Beltiamatu from reaching Atlantis. They each utilized a fractional store of aether, which would last nearly into infinity; they were the perfect sentries, needing neither food nor rest.

  They could, however, be reprogrammed by someone who knew how—like the king of the Beltiamatu.

  But Zamir was not who he used to be.

  He could no longer hold aether; neither could he absorb it.

  Could he still sabotage the manta ray drone—in this body—that didn’t connect to aether the way it used to?

  Only one way to find out.

  He curled up his legs beneath him and launched himself into the manta’s mouth.

  A blaze of purple light surrounded him. His skin tingled, almost as if he had been hurled into a wave of static electricity. The Atlanteans had clearly planned for an attack as brazen as this. If he were Beltiamatu, the full-on sonic blasts would have knocked him out in an instant.

  But as it was…

  His crooked grin was wicked. Kai will need more than Beltiamatu to reach Atlantis. Perhaps it really is a team effort after all.

  But his grin vanished as reality—and the ache in his chest—set in. It will take more than me to save my grandson.

  And it will take more than my grandson to rebuild Shulim.

  His cheek muscles tightened into a grimace as he twisted around in the manta’s mouth and crawled deeper into what must have been the creature’s belly. The walls constricted around him, but there—at the very tip, at the narrowest point, was the drone’s aether source. Scarcely a wisp of purple, it would dissipate the moment it was taken out of its regulator, but contained with the adamantine regulator, it would last well into infinity.

  Now, if only he could reprogram it.

  The manta swooped and bucked as if it knew that it carried an intruder, but could not dislodge Zamir. He remained focused on the drone’s aether core, although his efforts to reprogram it were disappointingly futile. Each time, the purple wisp slipped through his fingers, as if as it were not even there.

  The manta twisted sharply, then set on a straight course.

  Zamir tensed. It had found something. He glanced over his shoulder. In the distant blue were the familiar forms of Thaleia, Badur, and Kai.

  Thaleia and Badur could outswim the manta, but Kai—his body slumped between theirs—could not.

  And somehow, he did not think Thaleia and Badur would abandon Kai.

  Zamir grimaced. He had to reprogram the manta before it reached his grandson.

  And it comes down to this—a desperate quest to save the last mer-prince as he attempts to kill himself in a desperate quest to save the last of his people.

  What would it take to summon his personality, as Zamir, to the fore? Concentration? His brow furrowed as he tried to manipulate the aether core, but it slipped through his fingers, again and again.

  Behind him, water filled the manta’s mouth as it swelled open to release the sonic blasts that would almost certainly cripple Thaleia and Badur.

  As weakened as Kai was, the sonic blasts would kill him.

  Zamir slammed the side of his fist into the aether regulator. The adamantine filament bent sharply, and the purple wisp blinked out.

  The swooping motion of the manta halted immediately. Its upraised wings and tail drooped lifelessly.

  When all else fails, hit it.

  Zamir frowned. He unlatched the damaged regulator and slipped it into the pouch he wore around his waist, before backing out of the manta ray.

  “It’s Zee,” was Thaleia’s astonished exclamation.

  “What about the others?” Badur demanded.

  “Where’s Naia?” Kai asked. His voice was weak, but there was a certainty about it—as if he expected answers first—that made him prince.

  “She was weaving among the submersibles when the irukandji converged on them,” Zamir said.

  It wasn’t really an answer, and Kai knew it too. His tone hardened. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “She’s alive?”

  Zamir shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  Anguish doubled Kai over, but Badur’s grip on his arm tightened. “Naia accompanied you, as did we, knowing that it could cost us our lives.” His tone was brutally harsh, although his expression shrieked compassion, even empathy. “We came, willing to pay the price, to keep you alive, to return you—and the aether core—to our people. Do not waste her sacrifice.”

  Zamir concealed his smile and the ironic chuckle. That note of command in Badur’s voice, combined with his choice of words, were perfect. It was exactly what Zamir would have told Kai. “Get into the manta, Kai.”

  Thaleia’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “I broke off the regulator, and the aether wisp in it dissipated. The drone’s permanently disabled, but it’s still made of adamantine, which means that it—”

  “Doesn’t let aether pass through it,” Thaleia finished. “Of course…” Her expression brightened into a smile of gratitude. “In it, Kai will be protected, mostly, from the stray effects of aether.”

  Badur’s expression, however, had sharpened into suspicion and hostility. “How is it you, a mere human, know so much about aether regulators and adamantine?”

  “I read a lot,” was Zamir’s dismissive reply. It was, after all, exactly what Ginny would have said. “Get Kai into the manta and head toward the center island. I’ll find Ginny, and we’ll catch up with you.” He turned his back on them and swam back to the cluster of ruins where he had left Ginny.

  She was still there, still safely concealed among the fallen columns, but even in the darkness of the depths, her face was pale, stricken. “One of the submersibles, panicked by the appearance of the irukandji, fired without aiming, and hit two of the frigates, sinking them. The sea was filled with thrashing sailors.”

  “I imagine the thrashing didn’t last long.”

  Ginny shook her head. Her voice cracked, her pain audible even through the water. “It was over in seconds.”

  “Any sign of Naia?”

  She spun on him. “How can you be so heartless? Dozens of people just died.”

  “The same dozens of people who would have done anything to stop Kai from reaching the aether core?”

  “They’re just doing what they’re told.”

  “People choose what they do. Isn’t that what Varun believed? Free will? Making your own choices instead of blaming them on the circumstances that thrust them upon you?” Zamir’s voice was bitter. “I blamed everyone, but me. I blamed, most especially, my mother. I managed to write off the devastation I unleashed on my people as inevitable, as something destiny or fate owed me for screwing up the early years of my life. But I figured it out.” He scowled at her. “If a three-hundred-year-old merman can eventually see the error of his ways, I’m not going to let you get away with excusing people for ‘just doing what they’re told.’”

  “It’s different,” she said. But even she didn’t sound convinced.

  “No, it’s not,” he told her. “Did yo
u see any sign of Naia?”

  She shook her head, eyes downcast.

  He seized her hand. “Then let’s go.”

  “You’re not going to stay to look for her…body?”

  “If she’s dead, we’re not going to find her body. We are going to get Kai to the aether core. It’s what we came for.” His eyes narrowed. “Can you feel it, Ginny?”

  “Feel what?”

  “The heightened level of aether. The presence of raw dark energy that turned small, dangerous creatures into large, deadly ones?”

  “I wondered about that…”

  “That what?”

  “The pulse I hear—like a second heartbeat.”

  “That’s the aether core in you trying to find a resonance with the aether core in Atlantis. That you can feel it at all is more proof—as if the oversized creatures weren’t enough—that the regulator is damaged.”

  “Regulator?”

  “Adamantine filaments are used to contain and regulate the flow of aether, but the regulator in Atlantis is damaged; I’m certain of it. That’s why aether is leaking out, transforming its surroundings. The closer we get to it, the higher the concentration of raw aether in the environment.”

  “But that means Kai…” Ginny pressed her hand to her lips, as her eyes widened with realized horror.

  “It means that the agony of repeated, unending transformations could likely kill Kai before he ever reaches the aether core.”

  Chapter 16

  Kai would…die?

  It wasn’t new news, but to hear Zamir speak so bluntly shattered Ginny’s illusions that they might get by on courage, hope, and a hefty dose of luck. She drew a deep breath and braced against the crushing pressure in her chest. She couldn’t dwell on Zamir’s unvarnished appraisal of the situation. It was just too…

  Depressing.

  And obvious?

  That too…

  Motion flickered in the distance.

  She peered past Zamir’s shoulder, squinting for details. “Why are Badur and Thaleia pushing a manta drone?”

  “I disabled its aether regulator; it’s now a royal carriage.” Zamir’s smile was ironic. “Kai’s in the drone. The adamantine shell provides some measure of protection from aether, but not enough. There’s no way to seal the manta’s open mouth, which means that our only chance is in speed—getting Kai to the core before he passes out. Or dies.”

  “But what happens when the aether core is in him?” Ginny demanded. “He’s already so sensitized. Will it kill him?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve never had this situation before.” His eyes narrowed as the manta, accompanied by the two Beltiamatu, slipped into the darkness of a cave at the base of the center islet. “Let’s catch up with them before they enter the inner defenses of Atlantis.”

  “You’ve come this way before.”

  “In part.” Zamir nodded. “But with my elite warlords. Not with an injured prince, a blind mer-man, and his guide.”

  “Then you know what’s coming up?”

  He shook his head. “We came in from a different route, and we did not encounter the irukandji, although we faced other horrors. The route we took is now sealed. My mother and Varun made certain of it. We’ll have to find another way in.”

  “Is there another way in?”

  “More than likely. Atlantis isn’t an impregnable tower. It’s a ruin. There are no maps to it, not anymore because there are tunnels where there should have been walls, and walls where there should have been roads.”

  “So we’re just guessing our way through this?” Ginny’s voice raised in outrage. “I thought you knew what you’re doing!”

  “I do know what I’m doing. I just don’t know where I’m going.”

  “Zamir!” she wailed.

  “Careful. Your voice doesn’t carry as far as a Beltiamatu’s in water, but it still carries. You don’t want to give away my identity.”

  “You’re a coward.” Ginny glared at him. “You know Kai’s taking all the heat—for what he did, but also for what you did. It’s not fair to him.”

  “What’s not fair to him is having me come back as king. There is no place for me among the Beltiamatu—not in this body, and certainly not after what I did to them. They will forgive Kai far easier than they will forgive me. After all, he’s far more lovable.”

  “Zamir, that’s not—”

  “It is true,” he told her, ducking his head as he entered the cave. The blue of their surroundings plunged into near complete blackness. He tightened his grip on her hand.

  “Do you need light?”

  “Not the kind you provide,” he told her.

  A smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, Ginny turned on the diving flashlight she wore over her forehead and flooded the cavern with white light.

  Zamir glanced back, his eyes wide, jaw slack.

  Ginny grinned at him. “I can turn it off if you don’t like it.”

  Zamir chuckled, the sound lightly amused. “Those humans have come up with some fairly useful inventions.”

  “Like those submersibles now chasing us through Atlantis?”

  He grimaced. “Like those.”

  “How is Jacob getting access to all these cool toys?”

  “The Temple of Ishtar is more than a ragtag band of fanatics hanging out in an abandoned silver mine in Colorado. That’s just Jacob Hayes playing up his infantile need to feel like a high priest. In reality, the Atlanteans, as wretched as they were leaving Atlantis, were still far better placed to succeed than any human of that time and age. The tentacles of Atlantis spread far wider than you would believe—reaching every country. They are the wealthiest individuals who control the wealthiest private organizations. They’re the dark shadows behind governments and economies. They’ve been amassing power for this one war with the Beltiamatu, but without aether, they had no chance of winning. And now…”

  “And now they think they can,” Ginny completed quietly. “If I’m killed, what happens to the aether? Does it vanish, or just float there, waiting for someone to pick up?”

  Zamir shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s not go out of our way to find out.”

  “I’m surprised the Beltiamatu haven’t just killed me to find out.”

  “Their council suggested it. Kai refused to even entertain the idea.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened.

  “Kai seems to think you are friends,” Zamir murmured. “Don’t let him down.”

  “I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me, after everything I’ve done to him.”

  “I think he looks at you and is surprised you don’t hate him after everything he’s done to you. You’re here because he dragged you, a human, into a war thousands of years in the making. He hasn’t forgiven himself for it.”

  “He hasn’t forgiven himself for anything,” Ginny retorted.

  Zamir shrugged, the motion as graceful as it was dismissive. “The Beltiamatu don’t forgive easily—especially not themselves.” He paused at a junction. The cave split, one winding up, the other down. “I think they went this way.” He took the path winding down.

  “You think? You don’t know?”

  “The currents feel stronger here.”

  “The currents? It could be anything. A pissed-off giant eel in his cave?”

  Zamir chuckled again. The low, relaxed sound tickled at the base of Ginny’s spine. “You want to split up and search?”

  “No!”

  “All right, then. We’ll go this way.”

  Half-swimming, half-walking, Ginny followed Zamir so closely that she bumped into him frequently.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Nervous?”

  She nodded, not too proud to disagree. “Probably because you’re not nearly as bad ass as your mom.”

  Zamir, however, did not seem to take offense. “No one is as much of a…bad ass as my mother. How many people would have the audacity to tell the gods that their millennia-long war was a family soap opera?”

  “Sh
e was right though.” Ginny giggled. “Not a lick of sense among any of them. And I think I figured out why.”

  “Really?”

  “Their days—let’s call them cycles so we don’t get confused with actual human twenty-four-hour days—are longer. I got my first clue when you told me that Kai would sleep for thirty-two hours. A normal human would sleep for about eight hours in day. A Beltiamatu’s sleep cycle is four times longer, but then again, you live till about three hundred, which is about four times longer than an average seventy-five-year human lifespan. And how old is Kai?”

  “He’s a hundred.”

  “Divide by four? If he were human, he’d be twenty-five. Easily the most gorgeous phase of his life.”

  “What has this to do with the Illojim?” Zamir asked.

  “The Beltiamatu—or at least the early ones—served the Illojim. It’s logical then, that the Illojim are similar—but with even longer cycles. Inanna, Nergal—they both looked young. Early twenties, I’d say, if they were human.”

  “They can probably take on any form they choose.”

  “With aether, of course, but we saw their true forms. They’re absurdly young to be gods. Human history is, at most, eight thousand years old. The Illojim and Beltiamatu arrived before that. Let’s say ten thousand years, just for argument. There’s a phrase in the Bible that always seemed a bit odd to me until just now.”

  “What is it?”

  “One day in your courts is like a thousand elsewhere. The translation is a bit weak though. The word used after thousand could mean days…or years.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “On the surface, it’s a poetic way of expressing adoration, although we’ve seen that the Illojim are always much more literal than we originally believed. What if it’s true? What if a day, to the Illojim, is a thousand human years on Earth? That means that they’ve only been exiles, on Earth, for ten days. The feuds that, to us, seem to last millennia, are only days old. Feelings are still very much hurt, and to them, it’s all vividly current.”

  Zamir shook his head. “You spend time thinking about all this?”

  “It’s what I do, Zamir. I’m a professor of ancient civilizations. We can’t talk to people, so we surmise based on what little information is available about them.” Ginny smiled. “I’d give almost anything to talk to Inanna. She seemed…nice.”