Cursed Throne: Lord of the Ocean #2 Page 17

  Badur’s tail slammed down hard, flinging water into the man’s eyes. The soldier recoiled. Zamir grabbed a hunting knife from his boot and stabbed it into the man’s thigh. With a scream, the man dropped to his knees. The sound ended on a wheeze when Zamir plunged the knife into the man’s chest.

  “Zee!” Badur shouted.

  Zamir tightened his grip on the leather strap. “I’m okay. I’ve still got you.”

  Badur pulled himself forward on the strap until he could wrap his arms around the ridges of the titan’s hide. His chest and heavy tail were still immersed in the water. “Go. Help Kai.” Even without his eyes, he looked terrified, but his voice was resolute. “I will help myself.”

  Zamir let go of the strap, grabbed the soldier’s handgun, and fired two quick shots, taking down two cultists who were turning their weapons on Kai.

  He wasn’t fast enough to nail the third.

  The high caliber bullet punched a small hole into Kai’s left shoulder, and ripped a far larger one on the way out. Kai reeled to one knee, his chest heaving from short, desperate wheezes for air.

  Zamir killed the third—and final—solder with a well-placed shot then rushed to Kai’s side. His grandson’s lips moved, the sound scarcely audible. “Badur…”

  Zamir glanced over his shoulder at the spot where he had left the blind merman.

  Badur was gone.

  Chapter 25

  “You let him go?”

  Zamir stiffened at the outrage and betrayal in his grandson’s voice. “There was no other way to save your life!”

  “Badur mattered—”

  “Why?” Zamir demanded. “He hates you. He’s made no secret of challenging you.”

  “And yet he came—”

  “To get you killed.”

  Kai shook his head sharply. “He’s here because he cares about his people and their survival in a way that you and I never did. He knows them all by name. You ruled, but he leads. And I…” He shook his head and swallowed with obvious difficulty. “After everything I’ve done, I’m just trying to give what’s left of my people their best chance at survival.”

  “Their best chance of survival is you.”

  “No.” Kai bared his teeth in a soundless snarl. “It’s Badur, and the aether core. I’m just the carrier.” He straightened, his hand pressed against the bleeding wound in his shoulder. “I have to find him. If the riptides took him out, I can follow it and the current—”

  A familiar voice cut in. “If you’re so eager to die, I can help you.”

  Zamir and Kai spun around as Jacob clambered to his feet, an assault rifle in his hand. His glasses perched lopsided on his face, but there was nothing laughable about his blood-streaked appearance. His hand tightened against the trigger as Zamir lunged at Kai. They tumbled over the titan’s back, the rough ridges ripping their skin. Bullets chased them, bouncing off the titan’s impenetrable hide.

  “Stop!” another voice rang out. “He’s mine.” Marduk strode over the central ridge of the titan’s back as effortlessly as if he were taking a stroll through the countryside.

  Zamir rose slowly, always careful to stand between Kai and those who would kill him for the aether he carried.

  Marduk’s mouth tugged into a not-quite smile. “I have waited too long to simply win the battle without savoring the triumph of it.” He stared into Zamir’s face. “You…don’t remember, do you?” He chuckled, the sound without pleasure. “I’ve been told that you are a psychic and physical chimera—a twisted amalgamation of consciousness, of souls and bodies. You are fragments of many people. Some priceless. Some worthless.” Marduk shook his head. “And you have no idea who I am.”

  “You were one of the starship commanders, a servant of An.”

  “Excellent, Arman. Do you remember the peril, the terror of the journey through the stars? Or do you remember, as I do, the peril and terror of the people we left behind when they realized we had stolen all their aether?”

  “The aether—”

  Marduk sneered. “Belonged to the people of Aldebaran, not to the wicked and indulgent royal family that was rightfully deposed. Yet they stole it—she stole it—and when I would have returned it back to Aldebaran, you chose your masters over your conscience, over brotherhood!” Marduk’s mouth twisted. “I should never have counted on you to do the right thing. Billions of people—an entire planet—will perish because of your choice, but…” Marduk stepped forward, extending his hand, not to Zamir, but to Kai. “It’s not too late to do the right thing. An entire planet can be saved. You can undo the wrong that he has done.”

  Wrong? What wrong did I do? Zamir searched his memories but nothing in Arman’s fragmented, diffused awareness provided any answers.

  Kai slowly climbed to his feet, but did not attempt to close the distance to Marduk. “The aether core is going back to the Beltiamatu, where it belongs.”

  “The aether core doesn’t belong to you, or to you!” Marduk pointed at Jacob. “It belongs to the people of Aldebaran—people who are dying in darkness while the aether burns bright here on Earth.” His voice spewed hate and anger, roiling into a twisted whole. “You are as prideful, as selfish, as he!” Marduk glared at Zamir. “He allowed the children of An to damn an entire planet for their slight. He refused to act as his soul, his spirit dictated. He let love blind him.” He aimed his finger at Kai. “And you are no different, but you are the only person who can transport aether, which makes you—unfortunately—necessary.”

  Jacob roared. “That aether belongs to the Atlanteans! It belongs to my people!”

  A burst of golden light flared from Marduk’s fist and exploded against Jacob’s chest, flinging him off his feet. The smell of burnt flesh melded with the gray smoke rising from Jacob’s prone body, but then he moved slowly, pulling his limbs in beneath him. He straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders. A green glow emanated from his scorched flesh moments before the wound closed.

  Marduk studied Jacob, then smiled faintly. “Ah, in her attempt to gain allies, Ondine has been promiscuous with Nergal’s power. What did she keep for herself? And perhaps—more importantly…” He looked at Zamir. “What facet of Nergal is in you?”

  “I am me,” Zamir said simply. “Not Nergal. Not Arman. Not Jackson. I don’t know what ancient battle you’re referring to, but I care nothing for it. The aether core goes back to the Beltiamatu—”

  Marduk raised his fist, but Zamir leaped aside, and the blast of golden light struck the ground instead.

  It vibrated and groaned, then reared vertically up.

  Zamir, Kai, Jacob, and Marduk plunged toward the ocean.

  His breath whooshed out of him. Instinct, or perhaps training, flung his momentum forward, toward the titan, and he seized the rock-like ridges. Zamir pressed his weight against the wall, breathing hard at the sudden plunge, and the equally sudden stop.

  Above him, Kai had also managed to grab onto the titan’s hide, but his hands were slick with blood. “I…can’t hold on,” he gasped. His legs flailed for purchase as his fingers slipped off the ridge. He tumbled a few feet before he managed to grasp another ridge, but only for a few seconds. Screaming, he plunged down, past Zamir—

  Zamir grabbed Kai’s wounded arm. The extra weight jolted through Zamir, yanking the breath from his lungs. His knuckles turned white from the effort of trying to hold himself and Kai up. His fingers slid toward the edge.

  But he would be damned before he let go of his grandson.

  A ledge, marginally wider than the others around it, lay five feet to Kai’s right.

  He had to get Kai on it before he lost his grip entirely.

  Teeth gritted, Zamir swung his arm. The motion, which demanded so much effort, was minute; it seemed to him that Kai scarcely moved at all.

  Too far from safety.

  Zamir’s fingers slid closer to the edge.

  And out of time.

  The only way Kai could make it to the ledge was if Zamir let go.

&n
bsp; “Get ready!” he shouted down to his grandson.

  He did not wait for a reply. They were out of time.

  Zamir swung Kai away from the ledge as far as he dared, and as the arc carried Kai, like a pendulum, back toward the ledge, Zamir let go.

  Their combined weight and momentum hurled them forward.

  Kai tumbled onto the narrow ledge, then spun around on his knees, flinging his uninjured arm forward to seize Zamir’s hand as Zamir plunged downward.

  Zamir jerked to a stop, his legs dangling in midair. His only lifeline was Kai’s unyielding grip on him.

  His heartbeat did not steady. Not until Kai pulled him up onto the ledge. Their eyes met, and he nodded his thanks.

  Sometimes, it seemed as if they no longer needed words to function as a perfectly cohesive team.

  Zamir glanced over his shoulder. Marduk and Jacob were several feet below them, both struggling to cling on to the now-vertical titan. He returned his attention to Kai. The bandages on his grandson’s back were drenched in crimson, and Kai’s left arm was practically useless. Zamir’s face tightened. “Up?”

  Kai nodded grimly. “Up.”

  Zamir gripped Kai’s waist with his right hand. He gave Kai a grim smile. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  Their four legs, Zamir’s left arm, and Kai’s right arm, were enough—barely—to propel them up the titan in perfectly orchestrated coordination—at least from afar. Up close, the reality was bleaker. Kai wheezed as he struggled to breathe. His muscles trembled from shock and pain.

  If Kai died—

  No. Zamir clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening until it hurt. He would not even contemplate it. Would never allow it. Kai was the key to the survival of the Beltiamatu.

  Kai was the key to Zamir’s redemption.

  “Not much farther,” Zamir growled under his breath.

  Kai’s slow nod was the only indication that he had heard. His two legs and his one good arm moved automatically, unsteadily. His eyes were glazed, unfocused, and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. His breaths rasped against the thin, cold air.

  Only then did Zamir realize how high up they were.

  “Almost there.” Zamir pulled himself onto a level plane. Kai staggered to his knees and collapsed, his chest heaving with each strained breath. Zamir turned slowly, taking in the dazzling view.

  Far, indescribably far below, water churned in a massive whirlpool around two of the titan’s legs. Ships swirled, out of the control, sucked toward the heart of the maelstrom. The titan’s long tail extended out into the water, apparently as large as a peninsular.

  And—Zamir raised his head, and drew in a sharp breath—he and Kai were perched on the titan’s right shoulder. The expanse of its shoulders extended far across the breadth of its chest, and split into three broad serpentine necks. Perched atop each of those necks was a reptilian head, the scales as large as ridges, and tinted a deep bronze hue that glinted golden in the sunlight.

  The farthest right of the three heads twisted around, then drew closer to stare at the trespassers on its shoulder.

  We’re no larger than the slit of its eyes, Zamir realized. How had the Beltiamatu, even armies of them, managed to defeat and imprison the titan?

  The titan’s yellow eyes narrowed, then it huffed out through its nostrils. The blast of air was so strong it flung Zamir off his feet, blowing him across the titan’s shoulder and off the edge. He managed to grab on—barely—as Kai, badly buffeted by the winds, stretched out his hand to the titan and shouted, “Stop, please. I’ve come to bargain.”

  The middle titan’s heads turned sinuously to join the right. Bargain? Its voice pounded like a war drum directly into Zamir’s mind. It wasn’t in Beltiamatu, or any language that he understood, but somehow, the titan was communicating—conveying its intent in whatever language the listener understood.

  Our only bargain is to deal death to the lords of the ocean, lords of abyss, who deserve nothing more.

  Zamir ground his teeth. How many enemies had the Beltiamatu made in their millennia-long rule over the Earth’s oceans? How many would he have to personally answer for? Grunting, he tried to pull himself back up onto the titan’s shoulder. Kai, however, had managed to stagger to his feet, and he faced two of the titan’s three heads, unafraid.

  “I will bargain with you,” he said simply. “I am prince of the Beltiamatu, the last of the royal line.”

  You? One of the two heads reared back in surprise. The other merely tilted before drawing closer for a closer look. Where is your tail? You are no Beltiamatu. Your lies will not save them.

  “I am their prince, my body transformed by aether, but I am Beltiamatu. My eyes are my surety. Bargain with me. What will it cost to release your grip on the ships below, on the ocean life beneath, to let them pass unscathed? What will it take to turn you around before the maelstroms and tidal waves strike the land where millions of humans reside? The humans are not your enemy. There is no need to make an enemy of the whole Earth, when you only bear enmity for the Beltiamatu.”

  They imprisoned me through lies and trickery.

  Zamir grimaced. Well, that explained it. He heaved his leg over the edge and pulled himself up. He glanced down the protruding ridge of the titan’s back, but could not see Marduk or Jacob.

  The middle head snarled, its upper lip pulling back to reveal fangs longer than Kai was tall. Do you think anything will buy peace except the extermination of the Beltiamatu?

  “The Beltiamatu empire is no more. They are scattered survivors beneath your notice. The only remaining threat is me—their prince. If my life pays the price—”

  “He lies!” a voice roared.

  Zamir stared in astonishment as Badur pulled himself up onto the titan’s shoulder. His hands were bloody from the effort, his tail battered and bruised. The merman did not stand—he could not—but his chin raised high. “He is not even Beltiamatu; he has no tail. But I…I am the one you seek. The one on whom you can mete out the vengeance you crave.”

  You? The titan roared in all their minds. Who are you that I should care?

  Badur spoke quietly. “I am Bahari, son of Zamir, who was the lord of Shulim, the lord of the abyss. I am prince of the Beltiamatu.” He raised his head; the drooping veil over his gouged eyes turned toward the titan. “And I will pay your price.”

  Chapter 26

  “So…” Ginny squinted at the smoking engine as sea water swirled around her ankles. “This goes there, and that goes…where?”

  Corey snarled. “Do I look like a ship’s engineer to you? I’m a medic—”

  “Doesn’t Meifeng know any more about this?”

  “Nobody knows shit about this. We lost anyone who knew anything about maintaining a ship when the Veritas went down.”

  “Don’t you have pictures of the engine—of a working engine?”

  “Didn’t occur to any of us to take a photograph of it when it was working.”

  Meifeng’s voice rasped through the intercom. “What the hell are you guys doing down there? If you can’t fix the engine, at least manually pump the damn bilge water out of my ship!”

  “I’m on it!” Corey yelled back. “Here…” He shoved a life vest at Ginny.

  She stared it. “But I can breathe underwater.”

  “I know you can, but just put it on, will you? Zee will be pissed if anything happens to you on my watch.”

  “But why would—?” Ginny’s question smacked Corey’s back as the bulky man splashed toward the flooded section of the engine room. She did not get an answer. Grimacing, she tugged the life vest over her head. Fortunately, it was one of the slim, tug-to-inflate ones that did not make her feel like a turtle. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she waved away the gray smoke and acrid fumes spewing from the engine, and wriggled her fingers over it. “Come on, aether. Do your thing.”

  She stared at her fingers, but nothing happened. What the hell was wrong with her? She used to be able to summon at least a glow even if
she couldn’t control it. Why wouldn’t it even show up? Had there been some kind of trick to it—short of deliberately risking her life?

  “Brace yourself!” Meifeng shouted through the intercom. The sound snapped into static an instant before the ship jolted. Steel groaned, then snapped, the sound ricocheting through the ship’s cavity, pounding against Ginny’s skull, deafening her. The water swilling around her ankles rushed up. Within moments, it skimmed her calves.

  “Corey!” she screamed.

  But there was no returning cry, no curse even, amid the sound of rushing water. Meifeng’s voice crackled. “We’re hit. We’re hit. Massive hull damage. Get out of there. Do you hear me? Ginny? Corey? Get out!”

  Ginny glanced at the steps leading up to the bridge and the deck. Water brushed against her knees; it covered the three lowest steps, sloshing against the steel frame. Engine oil pooled in black spots against the white spread of sea foam. Within minutes, the entire section below deck would be flooded. She had seconds—if that—to get out.

  Instead of sprinting toward the steps, she waded toward the far end of the engine room. “Corey!” She craned her neck, searching for the medic, but he was nowhere to be seen. Water poured in through a large crack in the hull. “Corey!” she shouted again.

  She splashed toward the opening, but the floor suddenly vanished beneath her feet and she plunged into the water. There was nothing but shattered steel and endless ocean under her. She blinked and saw Corey sinking, his arms and legs outspread, as motionless as a mannequin.

  Ginny kicked her way down to him and grabbed him under the armpits, but he was unconscious, a deadweight in the water, and too heavy for her to move. She shook out her hand, but nothing glowed on her fingertips. Really? After she spent all those weeks cursing out her unwanted powers, it was abandoning her?

  Wait…

  She unbuckled the life jacket and slipped it around Corey’s head and neck. Fitting the small jacket around his chest was an impossibility, and she was out of time. She jerked down on the tags and the life jacket inflated. The balloon of air around Corey’s neck tugged the medic toward the surface, and Ginny kicked her way up beside him. Together, they broke the surface. Water dribbled from Corey’s mouth as Ginny grabbed the back of his life jacket and pulled him to the Endling. The stern was already immersed in the water. Thaleia, her arms wrapped around the still-unconscious Naia, bobbed in the water. “The other man is still on the Endling.” She stared at Corey’s face. “He’s not breathing. We have to purge the water from his lungs and get his heart beating again. Get behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. Brace yourself. When I say, kick forward with all your strength.”