Crystal Doors #2: Ocean Realm (No. 2) (18 page)

Maybe he was a bit flashy, speeding here and there on his magic carpet and showing off his nymph djinni, but he had left everything else behind and felt he deserved at least those small pleasures. No one on the island treated him with the slightest bit of deference, and that was just fine with him. Perhaps he had shown off a bit too much, though, thought himself more important than the others. . . .

But here in the merlon capital, everything was stripped away from him — not just Piri, but hope, as well. Only now did he understand what he truly was: a slave, one step below the sea creatures that the merlons valued or found useful. Idiot that he was, Sharif had considered even Piri to be a kind of possession, not fully comprehending how good a friend she was.

Now he realized that he had never even seen his carpet for the privilege and treasure it truly was. He had, at least unconsciously, considered it his due. His very ownership of the flying carpet had served as a silent demonstration of Sharif’s superiority. What a fool he had been! The lessons Sharif was learning from his own mistakes were more compelling than any he had learned in a class.

What had he actually earned in his life? He had done nothing to deserve the friendship of Vic, Gwen, Tiaret, and Lyssandra, who had accepted him without reservation. Neither had he considered whether he had merit as an apprentice for Ven Rubicas, who arguably had the most brilliant mind and kind heart in all of Elantya.

Sharif had merely assumed himself worthy. How much more vain could he have been? Inside the Citadel, it was the highest form of insult to flaunt your talents in front of someone less skilled, therefore implying that you were a better person. Arrogance was one reason that Orpheon had always rubbed Sharif the wrong way. There had been undeniable friction between them. What was it his people said about pride? “Self-pride is the enemy of wisdom.” The sages of Irrakesh were wise, indeed.

He swung the scoop, pouring more dazzling lavaja into a thick-walled barrel, which another slave capped off. The slave looked up with concern as a commotion occurred beyond the outskirts of the lavaja mining area. Sharif turned, only dully interested.

Hauling on ropes made of braided doolya strands, several angry merlons wrestled with the huge gray jhanta they had captured a few days earlier. Obviously, the aquatic warriors were trying to force the creature to work, but it had not yet been branded with a merlon symbol and the underwater guards did not have the magical ability to control the jhanta.

The majestic creature thrashed, beating its wide and sinuous wings, yanking four merlons along with it even though they swam backward, struggling to anchor the jhanta in place. Furious merlons holding tridents and narwhal-tipped spears poked and jabbed at the sleek great jhanta, cutting into its hide, driving it into a wild frenzy. The merlons barked to each other, joking, taunting the thing. It was clear they meant to kill it, since it was so unruly.

In his mind, Sharif felt anger flaring as brightly as when Piri had shed her blinding flash of light. Not caring for his own safety, entirely fed up with the violence he had watched his underwater captors inflict, he pulled the tether on his ankle taut. Looking down, he poured lavaja from his nearly empty scoop onto the seaweed rope, burning through it and breaking him free. Sharif dropped his scoop and plunged toward the fray.

The nearest merlon guard at the lavaja cracks bellowed for him to come back, snarling threats. Tiaret snapped a word of caution, but Sharif kept swimming, not caring. He had never moved so swiftly through the water, but he seemed to be part fish now. All he could think of was losing Piri and his flying carpet. Somehow this beautiful jhanta symbolized both for him.

He swam in among the raucous merlon guards, knocking one aside, snatching the trident from another, and bashing the warrior on the side of his scaly head. He knew he couldn’t kill all of the undersea warriors and didn’t even try. He just meant to distract them from the great jhanta.

For the briefest instant, he thought about freeing the creature and facing the undersea people, attacking as many merlons as he could before they brought him down. He didn’t think they had orders to kill him, but their anger might make them forget. And King Barak could easily change his mind at a moment’s notice.

“Sharifas, do not throw your life away!” He heard Tiaret’s anxious words thrumming through the black seashell in his ear, and he realized that he could not only get himself killed, but his friends as well — not to mention the jhanta.

He acted on a last desperate hope. Sharif did not know anything about the behavior of the great jhantas, only that they were beautiful, like a flying carpet under the sea. The jhanta had seemed gentle, intelligent, loving its freedom. With two of the twined seaweed cords now loose, the jhanta flapped its great fin-wings to get away. Sharif approached. The two remaining merlon guards clung to their ropes, yanking backward. The hooks in the jhanta’s tough hide dug deeper.

Sharif flung himself onto the creature’s back, holding its wings the way he remembered holding the fringe of his flying carpet. “Stop,” he said in a soothing voice. “I’ll protect you, but you have to stop. Calm down. Calm . . . calm.” He tried to be comforting. With his hands moving automatically, he traced patterns on the smooth, gray back of the undersea creature, as he would have traced the runes embroidered into his magic carpet. Those spells wouldn’t work here, but the effect of his gentle touch provided the control that he needed.

Having severed her own tether, Tiaret swam up, looking ready to fight to the death beside her friend. The merlon guards had gathered their weapons, and more than a dozen of them now converged on the huge jhanta and its human rider. The graceful creature circled, struggling to maintain a guarded calm.

The merlons roared, brandishing their weapons, but Sharif shouted at them. “Leave it alone! You’re provoking it. You caused this yourselves.”

Attracted by the disturbance, General Blackfrill finally swam up, turning his wide, slit-pupilled eyes to gaze upon the scene. “So the human prince has found a new friend. Maybe we should just slaughter the jhanta and let him learn the consequences of his —”

“That would be stupid,” Sharif cut him off, using the cold iron-hard voice he had heard his father use when pronouncing a harsh sentence. “This creature can be an asset to you. It can make your work here much more efficient.”

“It is untamed and violent,” Blackfrill said. “Useless to us.”

“Useless only when mistreated.” Sharif still worked to calm the creature. It felt very natural to be on its back. “For example, I could take this jhanta into the dangerous zone — where you keep losing slaves. I could use a crucible in a xyridium harness to scoop up the most intense lavaja. Is that not what Azric would want?”

“I do not care what Azric wants.”

“Then what about your king? Would he not be displeased to hear that you threw away such an opportunity?” He nudged the jhanta and it responded, moving one way and then another. “See? I can control it.” He stroked the back of its snub head with the palm of his right hand. “Let me show you what we can do. Just do not harm it any further.”

The dark general considered, then his wide lips spread in a grin that exposed needle-sharp teeth. “You can be as unruly as that creature, human. Let this be a test for both of you. Prove yourselves — or you will suffer the consequences.”

The work parties reassembled, and merlon guards drove the slaves back to their places. Sharif felt weak with relief on the back of the graceful creature. Although Tiaret gave him an admiring glance, the boy from Irrakesh wasn’t sure what he had just gotten himself into.

20

ANOTHER TWO DAYS TRAPPED under water.

The plodding armored sea turtle carried its heavy burden in addition to Vic and Gwen, who rode the turtle, guiding it to its destination. Warm, tainted water swirled around the cousins as the creature lumbered forward with sealed containers of fresh lavaja. They would deliver yet more heavy barrels to where the captive anemonites were held — where Lyssandra should be prepared to do her part in the dangerous escape plan.

Watched by guardian merlons, the jellyfish-brains created weapons from the hot magical substance. Weapons to use against Elantya. No longer able to stall, they produced dazzling capsules of energy that could be planted and then released with explosive, destructive consequences. Day after day, the five apprentices had also been forced to cooperate, all the while keeping their eyes open and planning. . . .

Now that they worked closely with the lavaja in the tasks Azric had assigned them, Vic knew that the thick barrels were made from the empty pots of a stony sea plant. Because the senses of smell and taste were inextricably linked in the water, the lavaja “fumes” that escaped from the lidded barrels tasted very bitter.

“You know, I used to like sea turtles,” Gwen said, her voice somber. She looked at the prominent rune branded into the lumbering creature’s armored shell. “I guess it’s not really fair to blame them, though, since they serve the merlons as unwillingly as the other undersea creatures do.”

“At least we got one of the easier jobs,” Vic said, riding beside her. “Azric could have given us more dangerous work.”

“He wants us to see that he can control every part of our lives. But he won’t let us be killed if he thinks we’re some sort of rare seal-breakers. How else would he set his immortal armies free?”

Vic swallowed hard. “Maybe if he found my mom . . .”

When starting their delivery route more than an hour earlier, the cousins had left a despondent Sharif and a defiant Tiaret back at the fiery cracks in Lavaja Canyon. They were all prepared to play their parts in the careful plans they had made, whispering to each other in the darkness at night after they had learned their routines well enough. Each of the five had a vital role, and timing was going to be crucial.

Now, as the sea turtle slowly crawled forward, Gwen and Vic steadied the heavy containers of still-simmering lavaja. Sharks and occasional merlon warriors swam past, making sure the cousins didn’t try anything, but after several uneventful days they had let their guard down somewhat. They were certainly going to be in for a surprise, Vic thought.

When their big turtle approached the coral reef where the anemonites continued their enforced cogitation, he looked at Gwen. The time was drawing near, and he felt a knot in his stomach. The wheels had already been set in motion. “You ready for this, Doc?”

“I’m just hoping that the merlons aren’t ready for it.”

BECAUSE OF HER TELEPATHIC powers of understanding, Lyssandra had been assigned to the anemonites. Both Orpheon and the merlon king had warned her that they would be perfectly happy to slaughter one or more of the jellyfish-brains, if the anemonites did not perform to the best of their abilities. They placed the burden of all fifty lives on the young girl’s shoulders. Orpheon, who had seen Lyssandra work with Rubicas and knew her talents, had suggested this assignment for her. Azric had agreed that keeping the five companions separated, playing them against each other as mutual threats, was probably the best way to control them.

In fact, it gave the apprentices a broader range of opportunities to strike against the undersea kingdom.

While spending her days with the diligent jellyfish-brains, Lyssandra did indeed communicate with them. As far as the anemonites were concerned, their comrade Polup had disappeared; none of them were sure what had become of him, although some of them had guessed that he was the one that King Barak had mentioned a few days earlier. She took great pleasure in telling them in detail about how Polup had escaped, and survived, and used his mental powers to help the island of Elantya. The downtrodden anemonite captives took heart from what Lyssandra said, and were overjoyed when she explained the complex escape plan to them. They were part of the plan, as well.

Since the anemonites’ frills had been clipped, they would never be majestic, swift swimmers again. The jellyfish-brains dealt with their limited mobility, though, and Lyssandra knew how to overcome the handicap. In their tiny burbling voices they chattered in the anemonite language, which Lyssandra could understand, but the merlon guards and General Blackfrill could not.

While waiting for the crucial moment to arrive, the anemonites discussed their anxiety over whether they could actually find freedom from persecution again. Since their attempts to stall and to sabotage their work had earned them the wrath of the merlon king, they had few choices. The small lavaja bombs they had been making had not satisfied Barak. They would have to produce some powerful weapons soon, or be killed. Or escape, as Lyssandra suggested.

Lyssandra listened to their discussions and reminded them, “I will be here to help you. I will not leave until I am certain you are all well on your way.”

The anemonites voted to escape.

When Azric and King Barak had begun hounding the anemonites and harassing them to work faster, the scientists had focused on an extravagant, towering structure to intensify the energy output from the lavaja ore. Large vats and a skeletal cistern and pumping chamber had been erected near their coral reef laboratory and testing area.

The two lead anemonites on their lobsterlike kraega steeds, pretended to make intricate calculations with the crustaceans’ pointed antennae, but they were recopying old, harmless spells and waiting for a signal. While seeming to cooperate with the slave master’s threats, they had prepared the large experimental apparatus, but the merlons did not suspect the results they would get — as soon as the two cousins arrived with their sea turtle.