Chapter 27

  “Cari! Cari!”

  “No…I’m too young…” the poor girl muttered, tossing and turning as she slept.

  Fia pulled her from the waters, laying her upon the shore and shaking her in the sands. But Cari would not wake. She continued to mumble softly; her face wet with tears leaking from her lashes.

  “Cari, please!” Why wouldn’t she wake? For that matter, how had she woken? Fia couldn’t remember. The dream was already fading. It felt so far away, a distant memory. But she could still smell something burning.

  It was some sort of spell, but how to free her? Her brow furrowed, knitting itself into knots as her eyes darted around the cave. There had to be something. A pentacle, a glyph, a seal, something being used to channel whatever magic held Cari in its web. And then she saw it, a glimmer, like a far-off star just outside the moonlight, sparkling at the far end of the cavern.

  Scrambling to her feet, she ran, stumbling towards its glow. There, she found a man lying among the reeds. The low hum of a snore rumbled on his breath; he had been asleep for quite some time. But in his hands was the light that called to her. A trident. It was hewn from the bone of an ancient leviathan, and gilded with lustrous veins. Curling filigree snaked along its barbs, masking the horror of this unnatural union. It was white as the moon and crowned with gold.

  Carefully, she lifted it from him. As his last finger slipped from the haft, he let out a groan, and his eyes flitted open. He looked up at the moon, then let out a scream as he saw the trident in her hand.

  “What have you done?” He cried. But the words caught in his throat. He seemed to choke on them, gasping as he reached out to her. Then his body began to shake. Skin stretching over bone, sagging as it drooped from his flesh. His spine curved, and his knees pulled up to his face. He let out a great sigh and fell still. He seemed to have aged a lifetime. His body now wrinkled and leathery, and yet, he was curled up, peacefully like a babe.

  Was that going to happen to her? Fia stared at the trident in morbid curiosity. Worst case, when she put it down, it would kill her, and she would wake up back in the shop. Best case… Well, there was no reason to hope for such a mercy. Either way, she was sure the trident was the key to waking Cari. She just needed to handle things delicately. Really think things out.

  “Cari! Cari, wake up! I found the Trident!” She raced back to the sleeping girl, sliding down beside her and pressing the trident into her limp hands. “Wake up!”

  Nothing. Silence. And then, Cari jerked up, grabbing Fia. One hand on her shoulder, and one still grasping the trident. She opened her mouth and screamed. And from her lips poured smoke, a cloud, black and terrible. It filled the cavern, a veil casting the world in shadow, swallowing all its light. And with it, Fia.

  Suddenly, she was falling, tumbling through the dark. But below her, there was light, a fire, torches. She came crashing down into a sea cave. Much like the grotto she had just left. But instead of a still lake, the ocean roared at its mouth.

  The cavern was filled with people. Clad in white, they marched in a long procession, filing out from a stone staircase at the far end of the hollow and moving towards an oaken pier. As they walked, they sang. Raising their voices as one to form a melancholy hymn, chanting words in a strange tongue, whispering with the waves. Fia did not think they could see her. For though the line was close, the faithful all around her, no one said a word. They just continued to sing.

  There was a whimper at her back. And then a figure led in chains. A girl whispering, begging for help.

  “Please…please I’m too young…” It was Cari.

  She, too, was dressed in white. But on her head sat a crown of coral. The iridescent hues of rose and seafoam, woven into beds of porous ivory, cut into her brow and blood mixed with tears as she cried.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Father, please!” The young girl screamed as she was pulled past a burly, stone-faced man. But he would not look her way, instead lifting his head as the chants grew louder.

  They dragged her up onto the pier, the congregation closing in around them. Standing alone, at the end of its long walk, was a priest. His robes were the color of deep waters, wet silk that rippled like ocean waves. He was old, wizened by brine and storm. His pale green eyes stared dimly out from behind a translucent veil, like the waning light of a lost ship, wandering the fog. In his hand, he held a three-pronged spear. A trident like the one Fia had found, and yet unlike it. Instead of great bones and an aureate visage, it was made of driftwood and wrapped in sea reed. A poor imitation of a holy relic. He lifted it high, and the room fell silent.

  “My people,” he rasped. “The storm gathers upon our shore, and the dreams of the Goddess grow restless. Driftmoor demands tribute to wake her.” He turned to Cari. She had been bound with heavy ropes and gagged with a golden cloth. “In the manner of our forefathers, and they in the tradition of the Old Deep, we have chosen this girl, the daughter of our beloved chieftain, as a worthy sacrifice. For if it comes from the sea, so too, must it return.”

  The crowd roared, as Cari’s muffled screams were drowned in their jubilation. And the priest raised the trident to her face, sliding it along her face, smiling as the red water flowed. The girl fell into a trance. Her eyes rolled back until only their whites could be seen. “O’ R’lectha,” The priest cried, “Please accept our humble offering! Awaken from your dream and lead us from the storm.” The people resumed their chanting, and it grew louder, rising in a fevered crescendo with the crashing waves. And he pushed her from the pier into the storm.

  “Cari!” Fia screamed. But none heard her. She raised her hand, summoning her staff. But instead, she saw the golden trident fall into it, shimmering into the dream.

  As her fingers took hold, the crowd froze, their celebration fading. They turned, as one, eyes bulging, staring greedily at the ocean spear.

  “The Trident,” a voice called, “Give it to me!”

  And the congregation shook, rattling and twisting. They began to change, the cavern filling with their screams as a transformation occurred. Some of them melted away, pooling together in a viscous sludge of grey bile. Others, expanded. Bones cracking, skin tearing, congealing as they melded into each other's flesh. Growing to form a steaming pile of flailing limbs and gnashing teeth, covered in hundreds of pale, lidless eyes.

  An abomination. It crawled forward. Rolling over corpses, adding new flesh to the pile, picking up speed as it charged for her.

  She braced herself, hefting the trident above her shoulder and rearing back as she took aim.

  “Wait…wait,” she whispered, holding steady,

  And it was upon her, just meters away now. So close she could smell its foul stench. See the dozens of spider limbs, crawling over each other, pulling its mass forward.

  “Now!” She let it loose, and the trident cut through the air, blazing like a bolt of lightning. It pierced the rampaging beast, splitting it in two. As it fell, Ella rose from the scorched remains, holding the sacred spear.

  Cari had vanished. The waves must have carried her far out to sea. Fia stood on the edge of the pier searching, but there was no sign of her.

  And again, a voice called out, “Give me the Trident!” As it spoke, the ocean calmed, pulling back to form a path between the waves, leading down into the depths.

  Down on the ocean floor stood a woman, a goddess. She was tall and lithe. Her hair, a tangle of kelp and reed, wrapped around her salt-kissed skin. She wore a gown of tideweed, adorned with silvery drops of pearl and scale. She was beautiful and terrible, all at once. Pressed against her breast was Cari, a whale bone dagger held at her neck.

  Fia ran to meet her.

  “Give me the Trident!” She shrieked, a howling storm growing within her. “Give it to me and I will let you take the girl!”

  They flew down the path towards, and again Fia took aim. She hurled the trident, but before it could strike her, the goddess let out a terrified scream. And she burst, skin peeling away, releasing her back into the cold waters, leaving only black ink to slosh among the stones.

  Cari fell. And Fia caught her.

  She looked up, the spell broken, “Fia? What are you…” She stared wildly at the ocean walls, “How did we get here?”

  But before she could reply, a boom of thunder struck, and again the goddess spoke. “Fools.” She spat, her voice echoing in the wind. “The Trident may have saved you here. But you cannot escape my domain… I shall await your coming.” And the walls came crashing down, sweeping them away and dashing them upon the rocks.

  Fia opened her eyes. She was back on the lake, and Cari stirred beside her.

  “What happened?” she mumbled. “Did the ladder fall?”

  “Don’t you remember?”

  “Remember what?”

  It was so strange. She couldn’t remember either. “We were—”

  “—Hey! You found the Trident! Give me that!” Cari demanded.

  “Oh, right.” How did she have that? “Here,” she held out the haft, “take it.”

  Cari stood. Lifting it up, staring at the golden engravings, eyes wide with wonder.

  “I’ll be a hero when I bring this home…”

  “Cari,” her voice was thick, filled with concern, “Why are you here?”

  “A hero…” She repeated, tears streaming down her face. She lifted the trident above her head, and the ghost moon shone through its barbs.

  And its light fell upon the lake. Illuminating its clear waters, and penetrating to its bottom. And there, among a bed of reeds, the goddess slept.

  R’lectha.

  Cycle: Timor 8-1