Ice Kingdom Page 7

  It had never left his dreams, the face of the one who had saved his life. And then she lay on the rocks, blood spilling from a dozen places where iron bullets had penetrated, those brilliant brown eyes wide open and glazed. He could never be sure who’d pulled the trigger on her. It could have been anyone on his team, reacting as they were trained to when the mermaids breached the facility.

  She’d saved his life, and his team had shot her. He would never be able to forgive himself for that.

  Reeves picked up the mic and reported their status to Officer Miller.

  “Get your crew ready,” he said to Larson.

  He caught the second eye-roll as she turned away.

  The defiance didn’t bother him. He’d spent several years of grade school being the shortest guy in gym class, so he was used to his peers underestimating him. He’d grown up working extra hard to prove his abilities.

  The moment the bridge door closed, leaving him alone, Reeves raised the mic before he could think and found himself blurting, “Sir, don’t you think we’re jumping the gun?”

  Silence. Then, “Reeves, the entire Pacific Northwest is being invaded. Civilians are at risk.”

  He gazed across the glassy water, beautiful and peaceful. “Sir, there are whales in the area.”

  “Now, Reeves,” Miller barked.

  Reeves gripped the mic tighter. To disobey would be to lose his job. Everything he’d spent his life working towards would be gone because he was too much of a coward to pull the trigger on a few sea demons.

  But was that all they were?

  The ship bobbed in silence for a long moment.

  Outside, shouts erupted. “Chief!”

  Reeves burst through the bridge door. His soldiers stood at the railing, rifles aimed at the water. He hurried to the port side.

  They were surrounded. Women—no, mermaids—poked their heads from the water, watching. They didn’t try to scale Perseus’ iron hull.

  “Everyone back up,” commanded Reeves before the mermaids could lure anyone.

  His soldiers took three synchronised steps back. Reeves averted his eyes from the water, unable to face the lives he was about to end.

  Perseus’ deck was bare, unadorned, but the key feature was there. An iron railing in the middle formed a barrier around a coffin-like hole. Larson and two crewmates slipped between the railings and jumped inside. They hadn’t waited for his orders. Reeves’ tongue felt too fat in his mouth to shout at them for this.

  The operative weapon was supposed to be controlled from a computer screen, but the engineers hadn’t had time to implement it, so everything had to be executed manually.

  He heard Larson barking orders and the clank of machinery. Perseus shuddered. The panel on the keel was opening.

  Reeves scanned the members of his team. None looked nervous, but he was certain every one of them was sweating like he was—possibly terrified. What they were about to do was unprecedented, untested, and highly dangerous. The ramifications were bigger than any op he’d heard of in years.

  His team, unlike Larson’s, awaited his orders with an air of respect, which he returned in equal measure. They’d worked with him and become his friends over the months. He couldn’t let them down.

  Inside the coffin, Larson and her crewmates worked quickly. There was a click and a mechanical groan below as the launcher emerged. Reeves had seen the thing moored; it was the size of a pickup truck with twenty supercavitating torpedoes positioned in a circle, and now they would be pointing into the pure blue depths of the Gulf of Alaska.

  Reeves peeked into the water. The mermaids must have felt or seen the weapons, because their peering faces had disappeared.

  “Ready to fire, chief,” said Larson.

  Reeves’ mind shut down as panic rose inside him, pulse hammering at his throat.

  “Chief.”

  “I know, Larson!”

  There was nothing he could do. He was a pawn. His job was to give the order, and with all these eyes on him, it was his only choice. To back out would be to lose everything, to bring shame on his team, to become a subject of ridicule for Larson’s. He would have to return to Miller and tell him what happened. He would return home to overly supportive but secretly disappointed parents, and live the rest of his life in another line of work, knowing he’d failed.

  Someone screamed at the other end of the deck. Reeves whirled to find one of his soldiers collapsed, a sea spear jutting from his shoulder. One of Larson’s crewmembers ran to help.

  Everyone else on board had lifted their rifles and crouched into position.

  Reeves cursed. He had to make the choice: everyone aboard Perseus, or the mermaids. The answer should have been obvious. A teammate had gone down. But how could he pull the trigger on the entire North Pacific Ocean? He couldn’t do this.

  He turned to Larson, adrenaline pulsing. He would be relieved of duty for this. He would prove her doubts correct and be a failure to himself and his team.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” she shouted.

  She stomped the lever into place.

  “Larson!”

  The ship shuddered. Beneath the hull, all twenty torpedoes would be launching in tandem.

  Reeves’ pulse pounded. It was too late. It couldn’t be fixed.

  “Brace!” bellowed Larson.

  Reeves and the crew gathered in the centre of the deck and crouched at the railing, wrapping limbs around the poles and each other—because the proper safety equipment had not yet been installed.

  The first torpedo exploded. Perseus rocked in all directions. An icy spray slammed down over Reeves. He gasped, taking long, slow breaths that tasted of brine and seaweed. Water thundered across the deck. The shockwave had not yet settled when the second torpedo went off.

  Each one was designed to detonate at a different range than the previous. With every explosion, shards of iron would be blasting in all directions, driving shrapnel into any creature it could reach. That included mermaids, mermen—and wildlife. Nothing within miles had a hope of surviving.

  The third explosion rocked Perseus more violently. The waves churned like a maelstrom. Reeves focused on holding his body tightly to the deck, thinking he might vomit. He had never been one to get seasick, which was fortunate considering his career—but the rising nausea had nothing to do with choppy waves. He squeezed his eyes shut, clinging to the railing, and for the second time in his life, he began to pray. Forgive me.

  He waited for the fourth explosion, determined to count each one and mourn the deaths he had let happen. How was it possible that this was only the fourth missile—out of twenty? He should never have agreed to that many. There would be nothing left in the Pacific.

  The time for the fourth explosion came and went. Reeves opened his eyes to find Larson staring at him, her brown eyes enormous, pupils dilated.

  “What happened? Is it faulty?” she said.

  Crack.

  The ship lurched with such force that everyone was lifted into the air. Reeves watched the deck fall away. He seemed to hover in mid air for a second, and then the deck flew back up to meet him at sickening speed. He flailed, as if trying to swim, and got his hands under him in time to stop his chin hitting the deck first.

  He smelled blood. He tasted it, thick in his mouth.

  Thuds echoed around him as the others hit the deck, coughing and gasping.

  A siren wailed. The hull had been breached.

  “Larson … find … out—” Reeves coughed.

  He sat up and clutched his chest, trying to get the wind back into his lungs.

  He tried again. “Find out what’s—”

  A thunder rose over everything else. The deck tilted. Reeves slid down it, reaching wildly for something to hold onto. He found a cleat barely big enough to wrap his fingers around.

  Waves frothed beneath him. Bodies hit the water. The spray stung his eyes as he looked around. A few crewmembers hung from the deck beside hi
m, and beyond that, he saw only the gaping insides of the hull.

  He blinked, trying to process what this meant.

  It dawned on him with the same feeling of an icy swell crashing over his head. The ship had broken in half.

  They were sinking.

  The sky darkened. Reeves looked up and saw something else, something infinitely worse than his broken ship, which sent a chill from his spine down to his dangling legs. His brain clouded over. He was going to pass out.

  The enormous black head rose from the water and gazed coolly down at them, pupils narrowing.

  Useless thoughts dashed through Reeves’ mind: how his life had just begun, and how he’d never be able to get married, or have kids, or take a beach vacation—not that he was especially keen on visiting the beach, ever again—and how he hadn’t expected his life to end quite like this. And he’d never gotten the chance to fly the LM-80 Cormorant.

  Then the other serpent head came out of the water and rose beside the first. It opened its mouth. Fragments of iron and shrapnel fell from its jaws.

  The seventeen remaining torpedoes, crunched into pieces, plunged into the waves below.

  CHAPTER SEVEN - Meela

  Kori Maru

  The shipwreck was so close I could feel it, smell it, even taste the iron on the current.

  “Can’t wait for somewhere safe to sleep,” said Lysi.

  “Can’t wait to be around others who don’t want to kill us,” I said.

  More enticing than safety and rest was the promise of allies. I needed to know we weren’t the only ones below the surface who wanted Adaro dead.

  Someone approached from the wreck. Lysi and I exchanged a glance and slowed.

  The mermaid gradually materialised, a lone figure on a murky blue canvas. She had piercings all over that glinted in the dim light, and a green and purple tail. Her short brown hair reminded me of an urchin.

  “Can I help you find your way?” she said in a clipped tone.

  Lysi pushed back a lock of coppery hair and drew herself upright. “We’ve come to join you at Kori Maru.”

  “Afraid we’re not accepting visitors, sugarkelp.”

  “Yes, you are,” I said. “We’re here to help.”

  The mermaid narrowed her dark eyes. “Help?”

  “The movement against Adaro,” said Lysi. “Para la reina.”

  The mermaid’s eyebrows lifted, but she regained her composure quickly. She scanned our appearances—clearly North Pacific—and offered a wan smile.

  “We have no quarrel with Adaro.”

  “We do,” I said. “And we’ve been searching for you for days. So let’s skip past all this.”

  Lysi and I were both wilted and grimy. This mermaid must have felt how tired and defeated we were. She could have helped us out a bit. Her reluctance gave me an immediate dislike for her.

  She looked from me to Lysi, scowling.

  “We were invited to come here,” said Lysi. “I don’t know her name, but …”

  The mermaid crossed her arms. I became aware of how much muscle loomed in front of us—did she bench press baby whales?—but I stared back. We weren’t about to turn away after all the effort it took to get here. I’d fight my way past if I had to.

  “Who are you?” said the mermaid. She raked her eyes over Lysi’s hair, over her body, down to her tail.

  “I’m Lysithea. I’m from Utopia. This is Metlaa Gaela. She’s from”—Lysi hesitated—“also Utopia.”

  I frowned, trying to catch Lysi’s eye. Had she lied because I was a former human, or because I was from Eriana Kwai? Was she worried about how they would react to my Eriana heritage? I supposed my people had probably killed more mermaids in the last few decades than the rest of the world combined.

  But the Reinas needed to know who I was. My knowledge of the serpent would be useful. She was probably being overprotective again.

  “Uh huh,” said the mermaid. “Capital of Adaro’s kingdom?”

  “Well, yeah,” said Lysi, “but—”

  “You kelpies telling me you got a problem with your own king? That’s treason. We can get in serious trouble for associating with you.”

  I set my jaw, deciding Lysi was wrong. Eriana Kwai was my family, my culture. If that made merpeople hate me the moment they met me, so be it. I wouldn’t erase that part of me.

  “I’m from Eriana Kwai,” I said.

  Lysi looked at me sharply. The mermaid’s mouth opened a little.

  “Eriana—wait.” The mermaid scanned Lysi from head to tail again. “You were at Eriana Kwai, too, blondie?”

  Lysi hesitated before giving a short nod. “That’s where I met a group of you.”

  The mermaid’s hard exterior melted away. She slapped her forehead. “You’re the one—you met Dione. Wow. Come with me, sugarkelp. I’m Galene.”

  Galene did a graceful flip and swam towards the wreck. Lysi glanced to me. A thrill of victory coursed through my chest—and a bit of smug satisfaction.

  “So what does para la reina mean?” I said, as we followed Galene.

  “Means we’re acting for the queen,” she said.

  “Medusa?”

  Galene looked over her shoulder and glared. “Evagore. The rightful queen of the Pacific. Disappeared when that scumball invaded the Moonless City.”

  “What happened?”

  “Adaro told everyone she fled. Some say she was killed. We think he’s holding her prisoner.”

  “Is everyone at Kori Maru from the Moonless City?” said Lysi.

  “Southern, yes. We’ve had a few from the north like you more recently.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Four tidecycles. Nearly since this whole thing started.”

  While Galene studied Lysi, I tried to work out a tidecycle. Lysi had said something about the tides and the moon. A month? The Reinas had been active for at least four months, then?

  “Bet you’re hungry,” said Galene. “We got a stash of herring eggs you can dig into. I’ll show you after you’re settled.”

  “Thanks,” said Lysi.

  “Anything, sugarkelp.”

  She gave Lysi a secretive kind of smile. I moved up so I was swimming between them.

  “There’re a couple of empty grottos you can take,” said Galene. “You can have the one next to mine, Lysithea. The mermaid occupying it moved out a few days ago.”

  “What happened to her?” I said, hoping there wasn’t a high death toll here.

  “We broke up.” She looked pleased that I’d asked. “She moved a few grottos down. Real snapper. Little crazy, mind you. You could say I’ve got a thing for feisty blondes.”

  Her eyes traced over Lysi’s hair, her perfectly defined face, and down to her waist.

  I made a point of taking Lysi’s hand. “Lysi and I can share a grotto. Thanks.”

  Galene glanced to our hands and kept swimming. “Group of guys went to monitor a nearby acoustic channel and should be back tonight with news. Dione can brief you.”

  Lysi gave my hand a squeeze, catching my eye. We both suppressed a smirk.

  As we approached the shipwreck, the prickling of iron worsened. Lysi must have felt it, too, because her aura became subdued. I supposed all these merpeople had learned to live with the discomfort.

  A canyon yawned beneath the ship, curving out of sight. The rock walls were indented with dozens of caves—whether natural or carved by merpeople, I couldn’t tell. Many had wooden doors or seaweed across the entrances.

  At least two hundred mermaids and mermen must have been here, judging by the number moving about the canyon. Some brought their families. Children moved in flocks—or were they called pods or schools? I had a distant memory of Lysi telling me mermaid families usually had enormous amounts of children.

  Of the few here with northern appearances, I wondered how they’d come to join this group from the South Pacific. It inspired hope that the different underwate
r cultures might be able to join forces. And if they were happy to work with each other, maybe they could also ally with humans.

  Galene stopped us at the mouth of the canyon. A group of teens beyond it turned to stare.

  “Get Dione,” Galene barked at them. “I have mermaids from Eriana Kwai.”

  They flitted away, and she turned to consider Lysi.

  “Look at the state of you, poor thing. You’ve had such a long trip.” She pulled a clump of seaweed from Lysi’s hair.

  Ugh. Were all merpeople this forward?

  “It was tiring,” I said shortly. “Think you could go grab us those herring eggs?”

  Galene smiled at Lysi as though she hadn’t heard me. From the canyon, a southern mermaid approached.

  Dione had a regal presence about her, with dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair. Every bone in her body was distinct, like she had been chiselled from stone. Braids floated eerily around her head, supported by kelp buoys. A row of diamonds pierced her left collarbone.

  “It’s you!” said Lysi. Then she seemed to come to herself and said, “I mean, hi.”

  Dione offered a smile. “I wondered if fate would lead you to us. The gods did not disappoint me.”

  She spoke in a deep, pronounced dialect that I had to strain to understand.

  “We never properly met. I am Dione, member of the queen’s council and lead representative at Kori Maru.”

  “I’m Lysithea. This is Meela.” Lysi turned to me, face alight. “Dione is the one who saved me from the serpent at Eriana Kwai.”

  “And I expect your knowledge of the serpent will prove valuable. Please, come with me.”

  She drifted into the canyon. We followed, leaving Galene behind.

  “You know where to find me, sugarkelp,” she called after Lysi.

  I snarled. Lysi laughed and kissed me on the cheek.

  As we drifted nearer to the wreck, we attracted stares from everyone we passed. Either new allies seldom joined them, or there was something strange about us.