Seasons of Sorcery Page 18

  How had he known she carried it with her?

  As he seemed in the mood to answer her questions, she pulled the flute from her pocket to show him. In the darkness, it seemed to glow softly in her palm, bleached ivory with a touch of magic humming through its striations. “How did you know?”

  Ospodine didn’t try to snatch the flute from her as he had at Castle Banat, content to stare at it with the same avid expression he’d worn then. “The flute’s value to you is that your father made it, yes?” He continued when she simply stared at him. “It’s far more than the clumsy desecration from a land dweller’s carving knife.”

  Brida clenched her jaw to stop herself from sniping at him in return.

  He turned back to survey of the Gray. “The bone he found came from the sleeping deep, off the remains of a being so ancient the oldest of the Elder races were infants, when humans themselves weren’t even the lickspittle of a lesser god’s afterthought. It’s the remnant of an ancestor from where all sea people came. The mer, the yastri, the kyzyn.” His sneering glance raked her from head to foot. “And somehow you, a filthy land dweller, ended up with it. The gods laugh.”

  Stunned by the revelation that there were other kinds of merfolk, Brida hid her surprise and returned his contempt with a once-over stare of her own. “Are you not a man with legs?” He spoke as if he were somehow separate from—and better than—those with whom he shared ground.

  “Not always.” He waved a hand down his front. “Before I became this abomination, I was like your lover. A merman of the Gray.”

  Brida lost the battle to remain impassive and gaped at Ospodine. She struggled to find words, shocked to her soul by his disclosure. Fluke or feet, this snide, arrogant creature was nothing like Ahtin.

  Once her initial shock faded, she adopted a more stoic expression, one that no longer fooled the smirking Ospodine. “You still haven’t truly answered my first question.” She was a means to an end. What end?

  “I need you to play the last two notes of that four-note tune. This flute will play them, and they will spread across the waters so that all the herds hear and know you call.”

  While Brida had no intention of offering up the flute to him, she was curious. “Why can’t you play it?”

  A bitter smile twisted his mouth. “Because I rejected the sea to walk the land. The flute recognizes this and rejects me in turn. No music, no notes will come from it if I tried to play.”

  His forthrightness carried a hidden edge to it. Brida sensed there was more to this than a merman abandoning his heritage to walk among men and later regretting it. Something much darker. Something terrible enough that the long dead remains of an origin ancestor refuted him.

  “The merman won’t come,” she said, refusing to speak Ahtin’s name. Ospodine had already helped himself to enough of her privacy. She pretended continued ignorance of the four-note tune’s meaning. His request for her to play only the last two made her glad she’d warned Edonin of his interest. Those notes were her name.

  He shrugged. “I don’t care about your lover. It’s his ap I want.”

  Never before had Brida wished her instincts had been wrong. But they weren’t. This wasn’t some trophy hunter looking for a mythical creature to hunt and kill for profit or fame. Ospodine hunted with a more personal purpose. A more singular one, and it centered not on Ahtin but on Edonin. She shuddered inwardly, so very glad she had followed her gut and warned the matriarch about him.

  Certain Edonin would ignore the summons, no matter how far or deep the flute’s voice carried across the Gray or how many merfolk heard it, Brida didn’t resist. “If she answers, will you then leave me be?”

  “Yes.”

  Again his reply carried the knife’s edge of a lie, an unspoken “Unless…” Brida glanced back to where Endel waited for her. She didn’t think he’d be much help in a physical altercation with Ospodine. He was younger than the nobleman, bigger, but she knew without a doubt who was the more dangerous of the two. Still, she felt better having the guard there.

  She took her time wiping the salt spray off the flute before playing a short lullaby to warm up the instrument. Ospodine shifted impatiently from one foot to the other, but stayed quiet. A glimmer of moonlight reflected in his eyes, revealing a hint of eye-shine at their edges. He might have forsworn all of his heritage. Not all of it had forsworn him.

  The flute throbbed under fingers at her first exhalation of the two notes, as if welcoming a long-lost loved one. Unlike previous times when Brida had played the entire four notes of Edonin’s message to her, the flute released the notes of the ap’s name in an undulation of sound that swept across the rocks and out to the Gray.

  Waves caved in on each other as if to capture the name and embrace it. Brida played Edonin’s name several times until the very air around her hummed with the summons. Far in the liquid glass wilderness, something answered in a voice not of sound but of vibration that made the rock beneath her feet shiver.

  Still, the ap didn’t appear.

  Ospodine’s rapturous expression soured, then blackened. Brida stepped back. “Summon your lover,” he practically snarled at her.

  Brida glared at him. He was mad if he thought she’d use the flute to bring Ahtin here. Did Ospodine think her so stupid that she didn’t readily see his objective? If he couldn’t entice Edonin to answer him, he’d lure her. “No. I’ve done as you wanted, played the two notes. Whatever I’m calling chooses not to answer.”

  “Summon him!” His bellow might have pinned her ears back if the wind hadn’t torn it to shreds.

  “No!” Terrified now, she bolted for the path, calling her escort’s name.

  Agony exploded across her scalp as she suddenly went airborne before slamming into the ground on her back. Every scrap of air in her lungs rushed out of her mouth in a hard gust. She fought to draw in a breath, even as she was hauled to her feet and suspended just above a cluster of mussel shells by Ospodine’s merciless grip on her plait.

  Tears streamed down her face, and she could do nothing more than wheeze in pain when he shook her like a dog held by its ruff.

  Ospodine pointed to Endel who hadn’t moved. His empty gaze stared beyond them to the rolling Gray. “He can’t hear you.” Mockery oozed from every word, and he shook her again for good measure. “Ensorceled by your own playing. Now you know what true siren song can do.”

  He dragged her back across the rocks. Brida clawed at his hand on her braid, trying to keep him from scalping her even as mussel shells broke under her weight and shredded the back of her skirt. She’d lost the flute somewhere in the struggle and prayed it had fallen into the water.

  Ospodine finally stopped, dropping her like a sack of refuse. Brida just missed smacking her skull on the hard surface. Wet heat tickled the back of her neck, and she touched the spot, following the line of its source into her scalp. Blood, dark under the moon’s light, stained her fingers.

  Her ordeal wasn’t over. She’d hardly regained her breath and rolled to her hands and knees to stand, when Ospodine snatched her up by her blouse, his grip preternaturally strong and unyielding. He spun her to face him. She twisted in his grasp, desperate to free herself. He held her with little effort, the grin he wore one of pure malice.

  “Lost the flute, didn’t you?” His eyes shone almost yellow, reminding her of a wolf’s gaze. He shrugged at her silence. “No matter. You can whistle his name. I’ve heard you.” That shark’s grin widened. “Ahtin, isn’t it?” He laughed when Brida struggled even harder. “Sounds like Edonin finally got the fast swimmer she always wanted.”

  When Brida still refused to summon Ahtin, even by whistling, Ospodine gave an unconcerned shrug. “No matter,” he said. “We can do it the hard way.”

  He overpowered her struggles, dodging the punches she tried to land on him, and bound her hands and feet. She screamed for help to no avail. Endel, still imprisoned by siren song, stared unseeing at the sea, unaware. Those in the castle were too far away to hear her, es
pecially with the roar of the breakers as they hurled themselves against the rocks.

  The bindings Ospodine used were neither rope, nor cord, nor silk, but threads of lightning bolts woven into sorcerous shackles. Vibrations traveled up her body, forcing her muscles to involuntarily contort and contract in places. More of the woven lightning coiled around her waist, spooling out to a silvery tether that ended in Ospodine’s grip. The shark smile flitted across his face before he shoved her off the rock’s flange.

  Brida plunged into the surf and sank like a stone. The churning water shoved her one way and then the other amid a froth of bubbles and sand whipped into underwater whirlwinds. She held her breath, lungs on fire, and kicked her bound feet for the surface. Her chest felt close to bursting, her body’s natural instincts screaming that she find air and breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  A tremendous force smashed her stomach into her backbone as she was yanked upward, clearing the surface in a cascade of seawater to fall on cold rock with a jarring thump. Brida opened her mouth to suck in a gulp of precious air. Her manacles sizzled against the skin of her wrists, and among the scents of sea and salt, she smelled scorched flesh.

  Ospodine’s sneering features filled her field of vision as he bent down to stare at her. “Do you think you’re valuable enough to your lover to save from drowning?” He nudged her body with his foot. “What say you, land walker whore? Another dip in the Gray?”

  Inwardly, Brida screamed. Outwardly, she inhaled until her ribs felt pressed to her shoulders. Once more, Ospodine tossed her into the water. Once more the churning spume flung her about in a blinding whirl.

  She refused to give up, refused to give in to the drag of her skirts and the blackness closing around her as the air faded in her struggling lungs. She fought to reach the surface, each effort more feeble than the last.

  A flash of something dark within the foaming water shot past her. The hint of a dorsal fin that pivoted and aimed straight for her. A betraying bubble escaped her mouth, and she gulped in seawater, surrendering her last gasp of air to the Gray.

  The delirium of drowning mixed with her body’s panicked struggle to survive weighted her down, and Brida felt herself sinking, sinking.

  Hands gripped her hips, and a long, muscular body flexed against hers. The lightning bonds loosened, freeing her waist, hands, and feet, as her rescuer lunged to the surface, taking her as well. For a second time she hit unforgiving ground and promptly vomited sea water from her mouth and nose.

  She lay on her side, but not alone this time, and the realization made her sob in defeat. Ahtin lay beside her, clutching her close as she gasped against him. Fingers caressed her head.

  “Brida,” he whispered softly. “I’m here.”

  “And the fish finally takes the bait.” Ospodine’s voice rang with gloating triumph. “I wondered how many times I’d have to dunk her before you decided to appear and play the hero.”

  It was a monumental effort, but Brida raised her head enough to see that the sorcerous tethers Ospodine had used to bind her had transformed and now bound both her and Ahtin together in a filigree net delicate as spider web, unbreakable as steel.

  He used the most basic fishing wisdom. Bait the hook until you caught the fish you wanted.

  Brida stroked Ahtin’s cheek, still too starved for air to waste it on talking. Or whistling. She told him with her gaze what she couldn’t yet say with words. “Why did you come? You shouldn’t have come.”

  As if he read her thoughts, the merman spoke into her hair. “Because you are here. Where else would I be?” He chased the tear sliding down her cheek, kissing it away.

  A new voice traveled across the waves, strident, commanding. “Release them!”

  Brida tried to rise for a better look at Edonin, but the net entrapping her and Ahtin only allowed her enough movement to peek past Ahtin’s shoulder and see the ap swimming toward them. Another movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she jerked in Ahtin’s embrace.

  His hands pressed into her back. He said nothing, only gave a slight warning shake of his head. Stay silent. Pretend you see nothing.

  Brida had expected a battalion of merfolk to join Edonin, but only she tread the waves. She, however, hadn’t come alone. A pair of colossal black shapes cut a swath through the waves, huge dorsal fins, twice the height of a tall man, catching the moon’s light on their tips before they dove beneath the waves.

  The ap had brought sea wolves with her. For what purpose, Brida couldn’t begin to guess, but their presence didn’t bode well for Ospodine, who was, so far, unaware of their presence.

  Ospodine, smug with his victory in luring the ap to him, executed a mocking bow. “Ap-Edonin. I thought I’d never see you again.”

  She stared at him, wearing that same look of anguish Brida had seen when she translated Ospodine’s name for her. “I’d hoped never to see you again.

  His face wiped clean of expression, except for a tightness around his mouth. “Is that any way to speak to your son?” he said in a hoarse voice.

  Brida’s mouth fell open and she stared at Ahtin, who showed no surprise at Ospodine’s latest disclosure. This violent, entitled man was the ap’s son?

  “I have no sons,” Edonin replied, voice cold. “You murdered them both long ago when you sacrificed your brother to a riven mage for the chance to walk on land. How much of his soul and blood did that monster steal before his sorcery turned you? And now you have regrets?” Her fluke slapped the water twice, fury in the stiff set of her shoulders.

  “You forced my hand!” Tiny bolts of lightning sparked off Ospodine’s fingers. “You knew what I wanted yet you refused me Pneuma’s Blessing.” He panted, visibly working to control his rage. “Gulsuca was a half-blood anyway,” he said with a sniff, as if that explanation justified his fratricide. He shoved Brida’s legs with the toe of his shoe. “No better than this bitch. Worse even because he tainted our herd.” He flung out his arm in a frustrated gesture. “How could you mate with a land walker?

  “Because I loved him. And I loved the child I bore him. A spirit of earth and sea in the best way.” The sorrow in her voice made Brida’s eyes well with tears. Her sorrow sharpened to anger, turning cold as before. “You didn’t just murder your brother, you desecrated him. Why would I ever welcome you back to these waters?”

  Brida might have pitied Ospodine for his mother’s rejection of him, if he hadn’t tried to drown her. As it was, his forlorn look didn’t move her, nor did it last. The haughty visage he showed to the world settled firmly on his features, utterly unrepentant for what he’d done. For what he was about to do.

  “Because if you don’t, history will repeat itself. You know this magic as well as I do, Mother. Used in the right spell, and the blood and soul of both elements can give one legs or fins. Gulsuca was convenient because he had both, but I don’t need a halfbreed whelp to work this magic, just land and water, and I have both here. He pointed to Brida and Ahtin. “Their deaths will fulfill that requirement.”

  Edonin glided closer to the rock, dangerously close to where Ospodine stood. “If you do this and return to the Gray, all of ocean-kind will hunt you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  Her threat, made in the gentlest voice, was no less terrifying for it. Brida believed her, and judging by Ospodine’s pale features, so did he.

  His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists. “Then I will swim the rivers and make of them my kingdoms.” He bared his teeth at Ahtin and Brida when Ahtin suddenly issued a series of whistles and screeching pulsed calls that made Brida wince. She gasped when Ospodine reached into his long overtunic and brought out a knife, an athame with a black blade. He crouched next to Ahtin, bound tight in the sorcerous net, and pressed the blade’s edge to the merman’s throat. Ahtin hissed at him.

  “Please don’t do this,” Brida begged him.

  He ignored her, attention fully on Edonin who met his eyes with an unwavering stare. “Give me Pneuma’s Blessing, Mother, so that I may
become mer again.”

  Frozen in Ahtin’s arms, Brida stared at the blade, the edge pressed hard against Ahtin’s neck. A thin line of blood oozed over the steel where, to her horror, the metal soaked it up like a sponge, as if the athame drank from its victim. She almost added her voice to Ospodine’s demands. Whatever Pneuma’s Blessing was, she prayed Edonin would surrender it and save her grandson from the predation of her twisted son.

  Edonin lowered her head, the sigh she emitted an echo carried on the wind across the face of the waters. A black shadow coursed below them, crossing paths with another of equal darkness. The merwoman touched the hollow of her throat with her fingertips.

  Ghostly light pulsed beneath them, elongating into smoky skeins as she stretched her arm toward Ospodine. Gaze locked on the revenant magic, he stood to meet it as it snaked toward him. Brida sagged into Ahtin, hardly daring to believe they both managed to avoid having their throats slit, at least for now.

  “The Blessing of Pneuma,” Edonin said, and this time her voice enfolded them all. “All the magic of our herd spilled out before you, Seahorse. Passed from ap to ap and shared with all. Sea magic, long life, and we, the aps, the keepers of that birthright.” As she spoke, age lines blossomed across her face, carving deeper with each word. Her cheeks sagged, and her eyes grew hollow. Her breasts flattened and her arms lost their firmness.

  Ospodine changed as well as the misty tendril of ancient sea magic coiled around his hand to slide up his arm. His ears transformed, the once smooth helixes stretching to accommodate small spikes along their lengths. The hair of his eyebrows fell out, leaving behind bony ridges. He touched his changing face, trilling a victory tremolo in whistles he couldn’t sound earlier, uncaring that his longed-for metamorphosis back to merman came at the price of his mother’s life force.

  She watched him from sad eyes in a sunken face. “The Blessing must be freely given, Seahorse, or it isn’t a blessing.”