Waterfire Saga, Book One: Deep Blue (A Waterfire Saga Novel) (25 page)

“S
HE’S GONE,”
Serafina said angrily.

She’d just swum into Vrăja’s study. It was early the next morning.

“Are you surprised?” Vrăja asked. She was sitting in her chair of bones and antlers, wearing a dress the color of oxblood. Its high neckline was trimmed with tiny bird skulls, its bodice beaded with hawk talons, wolves’ teeth, and polished bits of turtle shell.

“You knew?”

“I heard her leave early this morning.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“How? Should I have taken her prisoner? There
was
no stopping her,” Vrăja said. “She does not wish to be here. Sit down, child.”

Serafina sat in the chair opposite her. “We’re supposed to be the Six,” she said.

“It looks like you are now the Five,” Vrăja said.

“How can we destroy the monster without her?”

“I don’t know. But then again, I don’t know how you would have done it
with
her.”

“She’s scared,” Serafina said.

“You would have to be mad
not
to be scared of Abbadon.”

“I don’t think she’s scared of Abbadon. I mean, any more than the rest of us are. It’s something else that she’s swimming from. I don’t know what it is.”

“Is it Astrid you speak of, or yourself?” Vrăja asked shrewdly.

Serafina looked at her as if she hadn’t heard her correctly. “Um,
Astrid
,” she said. “Because
she’s
the one who’s swimming away.”

“So are you, child.”

“No, I’m not!” Serafina said. “I
stayed
, Baba Vrăja. Right here with the others. We’re making our plans. Trying to figure this all out. Ling’s on her way to listen to Abbadon, to try to decipher more of its words. Becca’s asking the witch who brought our breakfast how to cast an ochi. Neela’s practicing her light bombs—”

Vrăja cut her off. “And you?”

“I’m plotting a route to the Kobolds’ waters. To see if the rumors are true and my uncle is there. And to find out whatever I can about my mother and brother. With their help, maybe I can get back to Cerulea. And the Ostrokon. So I can listen to conchs on Merrow’s Progress. We think she hid the talismans during that journey. The conchs might give us clues as to where.”

“Merrow’s Progress…excellent thinking,” Vrăja said. “But tell me, why go north first?”

“I
did
tell you. Because my uncle’s there.”

“And your people? Are they in the north? Or in Miromara?”

“In Miromara, but—”

Vrăja nodded. “Precisely. You are fleeing too, child. From that which scares you most.”

“That’s not true! Cerulea is occupied. I can’t go back to it without my uncle’s help.”

Vrăja gave her a long look. “You treat rumors as certainties. Your mother was badly wounded. Your uncle and brother are missing. Yet you speak of all three as if they are alive and well and just waiting for you to find them at any second. How will you face that which is Abbadon if you cannot first face your own truth?”

Serafina looked at the floor. Vrăja’s words angered her. But more than that, they cut her. Deeply. Because they were true.

“You fear you will fail at the very thing you were born for,” Vrăja said. “And your fear torments you, so you try to swim away from it. Instead of shunning your fear, you must let it speak and listen carefully to what it’s trying to tell you. It will give you good counsel.”

Serafina picked her head up. “But all I do is make mistakes, Baba Vrăja. I couldn’t help my father. I couldn’t save my mother. I trusted people I shouldn’t have. I went shoaling and got Ling caught in a trawler’s net. I couldn’t even convince Astrid to stay.” Serafina blinked back tears, then said, “My mother wouldn’t have made
any
of those mistakes. She’s better than that. I’m not like her. I’m not like you.”

Vrăja laughed. “Not like me? I should hope not! Let me tell you about me, child. About two hundred years ago, the old obârşie was dying. The elders came to fetch me so she could tell me all the things I needed to know. I was so scared it took the elders an hour to coax me out of my room. One is not born knowing how to lead; one learns.”

“But Baba Vrăja, I don’t have time to learn,” Serafina said. “What’s happening in the waters—right now—is life or death. My people, my friends…they deserve the best leader they can get. Not me.”

Vrăja threw her hands up. “If you wish to be the
best
leader, I cannot help you, for there is no such thing. We all make our mistakes and we all must live with them. If you wish to be a
good
leader, perhaps I can. Listen to me, child, Astrid swam away because she does not believe.”

“In Abbadon? How can she not? She saw him. Fought him. We all did.”

“No, in herself. Help the others believe, Serafina. Help Ling believe she can break through the silences. Help Neela believe her greatest power comes from within, not without. Help Becca believe the warmest fire is the one that’s shared. Help Ava believe the gods
did
know what they were doing.
That’s
what a leader does—she inspires others to believe in themselves.”

“But
how
, Baba Vrăja?” Serafina said helplessly. “Teach me 
how
.”

“Serafina, can’t you see?” Vrăja said. She reached across her desk and took her hand. “By first believing in
yourself
.
”

T
HE RIVER WITCH
Magdalena looked at the spidery crack Neela had just put into the cave’s wall and shook her head.

“You’re dead. You missed him by a mile,” she said. “And then it was his turn. And he
didn’t
miss.”

Neela wiped a drop of blood from her nose.

“Try again.”

“She’s bleeding,” Serafina said. “She needs a rest.”

Serafina was sitting on the floor of an empty cave the Iele used for spell practice, recovering. Neela, Ava, and Becca were with her. Ling was with Abbadon, where she’d spent most of the last four days.

Before Neela’s turn, Magdalena had made Serafina cast an
a
pă piat
ră
, an old Romanian protection songspell in which she had to raise a wall of water ten feet high, then make it as hard as stone in order to shield herself from an attack. She’d held it up for a full two minutes, but the effort had left her with a blinding headache.

“Here,” Magdalena said now, handing Neela a cloth for her nose.

“You’re pushing her too hard,” Serafina protested, worried about her friend.

“Abbadon will push her even harder,” said Magdalena.

“It’s okay, Sera, I’m good. Let’s do it,” Neela said, stuffing the bloody cloth in her pocket.

Magdalena swam a few feet to the right of the crack. She picked up a rock and scratched a hulking figure with horns and a big ugly face on the wall, then drew an
X
in the middle of its forehead. “Right there,” she said, tapping the
X
. “Focus.”

Neela, looking at the cave floor, nodded.

“Bring it, baby merl!” Ava called out.

“Right between the eyes, Neela,” Becca said.

“Focus, dragă,” Magdalena said.

Neela picked her head up. She fixed her gaze on the
X
, and started to sing.

I summon to me

rays of light

And make of them

a weapon bright….

As she did, light leapt toward her from the room’s lava globes. She caught it and whirled it into a ball, just as she always did when casting a fragor lux. But this time, she made the ball smaller, tighter, and harder. Just as Magdalena had taught her.

Magic, help me

Fight the dark,

Guide this missile

To its mark.

With a loud cry, she launched the frag as hard and fast as she could. It hit the wall with an explosive impact. Everyone ducked as shattered rock flew through the water. When the silt settled, there was nothing but a deep hole where Abbadon’s head had been.

“Excellent!” Magdalena shouted. “Well done!”

“That was
amazing
!” Becca said.

Neela smiled. A bright gush of blood burst from her nose.

“Neela!” Serafina cried. She swam to her friend, pulled the cloth from her pocket, and pressed it to her nose. “That’s it. You’re done,” she said. “The magic is supposed to explode Abbadon’s head, not your own. Come and sit down.”

As she watched Neela pinch her nose, Sera thought how right
Vrăja had been—they
were
stronger when they were together. But their new powers took a toll. Headaches and nosebleeds were only part of it. The hard training they did together also gave them bruises and cramps. Ava had been sick to her stomach several times. Ling’s broken wrist started paining her fiercely. They were all exhausted. Magdalena, who would become the next obârşie, was helping them develop the powers passed down by their mage ancestors, and teaching them some old Romanian spells of the Iele. There was much they had to learn if they were going to fight Abbadon and too little time in which to learn it. Magdalena didn’t give them many breaks.

“Becca, you’re up next,” she said now. “Sing a good strong f
l
ă
c
ări spell. Call up some wrasse-kicking waterfire.”

Becca rose and swam to the other end of the cave. She positioned herself so that she was floating just inches off the cave floor, then began to songcast.

Whirl around me

Like a gyre,

This I ask you,

Ancient fire.

Faint, flickering fingers of waterfire snaked up out of the ground in a circle around her, summoned from the earth’s molten core.

Magdalena snorted. “You call that waterfire? Those flames couldn’t heat a teapot. You’re. Not.
Focusing
. You have to be able to call the fire every time you need it. What happens if Abbadon’s advancing on you and you can’t make the fire come? You die. Do it again,” she said.

Becca took a deep breath and started over. Her voice was louder now, and more forceful.

Whirl around me

Like a gyre,

This I ask you,

Ancient fire.

Hot blue flames,

Throw your heat,

Cause my enemy

To retreat.

As the last note left her lips, there was a loud
whoosh
. The waterfire shot up in a roiling orange column all the way to the top of the cave. Becca was lost inside it.

Magdalena cupped her hands around her mouth. “Becca? Becca, can you hear me? DIAL IT BACK!” she shouted.

All at once, the fire collapsed, its flames sinking back into the earth. Becca was still floating slightly off the ground. She looked dazed. Her curls were singed. Her dress was scorched. She’d burst a small blood vessel near one eye.

“Your powers grow by the hour,” Magdalena said. “Unfortunately, your mastery of them does not.”

“She needs more time. We all do,” Serafina said.

“You don’t have it. And I can’t give it to you. What I
can
give you is help channeling your magic, if you want it,” Magdalena said crisply. “Ava, you’re next! I want you to cast an ochi just like you did yesterday. I want you to hold it and then go right into a
convoca
, so you can show it to the others. Do you think you can do it?”

Ava nodded.

Serafina knew the ochi was a hard spell to cast. It was what the Iele used to watch Abbadon. It required that a
gândac
, or bug, be planted near the person or thing the songcaster wished to observe in order to catch the spell and hold it there. Shells, with their ability to capture sound, worked best. They’d all tried casting ochis. Serafina had only been able to see around a corner. Ling had been able to see into Vrăja’s study. The obârşie had looked up from her desk, amused, and waved. Neela and Becca had seen the Malacostraca.

Ava had been able to see Abbadon by using the same gândac the Iele used—a shell cast of gold that Sycorax had once worn on a chain around her neck. Generations ago, Abbadon had slashed at Sycorax through the bars of the gate, mortally wounding her. His claws had caught her necklace and ripped it off. As it sank through the water, its chain got tangled in one of the crossbars at the bottom of the gate. It hung there still, glazed with ice, unnoticed by the monster.

Today Ava had only been able to hold her vision of Abbadon for about thirty seconds, but Magdalena was amazed she’d done it at all.

As hard as an ochi was, a convoca, or summoning spell, was even more difficult. It was what Vrăja herself had cast to call them here. Magdalena wanted them all to be able to learn it, because it could be used not only for summoning people, but also for communicating with them.

Ava concentrated. Her eyes could no longer see, but her mind still could. Sera wondered what she was going to try to show them. Not Abbadon, she hoped.

“Do you have it?” Magdalena asked.

Ava nodded. “I’m going to try to show you Macapá, my home. I’ll use one of the shells on my windowsill as the gândac,” she explained.

“Ambitious. I like it,” Magdalena said approvingly.

Ava began her songspell.

Gods of darkness,

Hear my plight,

Give to me

the gift of sight.

Gods of light

From up above,

Help me see

The place I love.

Ava was smiling now.

A river wide,

A river fast,

I ask you now

To help me cast

A vision clear

To show my friends

My home,

The place the river ends.

Serafina closed her eyes, waiting for Ava to shift from ochi to convoca, expecting to see in her mind’s eye the Amazon River, where her friend had grown up. Instead, she saw herself. A split second later, she heard a voice inside her head. “Sera? Is that you?”

“Ava!”

“Wow! I’m in your head,
gatinha
!”

“This is
weird
, Ava.”

“Ava? Sera?”

“Neela?”

“Yes!”

“Hey there!”

“Becca!”

“Yeah, it’s me! I can hear you, Ava! I can hear all of you!”

Another voice chimed in—Magdalena’s. “Well, the convoca obviously worked, since Ava is talking to us without talking to us, but the ochi is a total fail. You’re supposed to be showing us something far away—the Amazon, right?—but all I’m seeing is Sera and she’s right next to me!”

“Wait a minute,” Serafina said as the image came more sharply into focus. “That’s not the practice cave. And what on earth am I wearing?”

The Serafina in the image was clad in armor and riding a huge black hippokamp. She was bellowing at soldiers, moving them into position.

The mermaids soon saw why. On the other end of the field, a fearsome army was amassing.

Ava let out a low whistle. “
Meu deus!
Those are some mad ugly goblins,” she said.

“Feuerkumpel,” Becca said grimly.

“Sera, watch out!” Neela shouted.

A goblin had crept up behind Serafina. His black hair stood high in a topknot. He had a sallow face pocked by lava burns, nostrils but no nose, and a mouthful of sharp teeth, blackened by rot. His small, brutal eyes were as transparent as jellyfish. Serafina could see the network of veins running through them, pulsing with brown blood, and behind them, the dull yellow of his brain. Hard, bony black plates, like the chitin of a crab, covered his body. He was carrying a double-headed ax, its blades curved like crescent moons. As the mermaids watched, he raised it high over his head—then swung it.

“No!” Ava screamed. She scrabbled backward on the floor, as if trying to get away from the vision. As quickly as it had come, it disappeared.
“Que diabo!”
she said out loud. “What was
that
?”

“Your gift growing stronger,” Magdalena said.

“No way! It’s
not
my gift. My gift is sight. It always has been. I can see the truth. I can see what really is.”

“No, Ava. Not anymore. Your ancestor Nyx not only saw what is, he saw what will be. He had the power of prophecy. You do too. You just never felt it until now. It’s being near the others that’s bringing it out.”

“So I saw something from the future?” Ava asked.

“I think so,” Magdalena replied.

“Great,” Serafina said. “Looks like we have a battle with ax-wielding goblins to look forward to. I’m so happy about that. Because, you know, Abbadon just isn’t enough of a challenge for me.”

“Magdalena!” a voice called from the doorway. It was Tatiana, another one of the Iele.

“Baba Vrăja wants to see you. Right away.” There was panic in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Magdalena asked.

“Captain Traho just entered the mouth of the Olt. The cadavru saw him.”

“So? He’s done it before. It’s only a search party,” Magdalena said.

“He has five hundred death riders with him.
Five hundred!
” Tatiana said, her voice edging toward hysteria.

“Calm down, Tatiana. He doesn’t know where we are,” Magdalena said. “No one knows where we are.”

“He does now.”

It was Ling. She was leaning on the doorjamb, panting. Her face was flushed from swimming fast.

“But how is that possible? Who told him?” Magdalena asked.

“Abbadon.”