Ice Crypt (Mermaids of Eriana Kwai Book 2)

Mermaids of Eriana Kwai

Book Two

Rogue Cannon Publishing
Canada

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means without the prior permission of the publisher.

First published in Canada in 2016

Rogue Cannon Publishing, Abbotsford, BC

Copyright © 2016 Tiana Warner

Cover design by Slobodan Cedic

Sketch page by Stephanie Warner

tianawarner.com

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Warner, Tiana, 1988-, author
          Ice crypt / Tiana Warner.

(Mermaids of Eriana Kwai ; 2)
Issued in print, electronic and CD-ROM formats.
ISBN 978-0-9880039-7-2 (paperback).--ISBN 978-0-9880039-8-9 
(pdf).--ISBN 978-0-9880039-9-6 (html).--ISBN 978-0-9950967-0-7 
(cd-rom)

I. Title.

PS8645.A7655I22 2016              jC813'.6           C2016-902642-6 
                                                                               C2016-902643-4
                                                                               C2016-902644-2

Discover

Book One in the Mermaids of Eriana Kwai series

http://tianawarner.com/novels/ice-massacre/

★ “… thought provoking and intelligent … fresh and thoroughly entertaining … Warner does a fantastic job creating a tight plot and masterfully creates a sense of atmosphere through subtle yet potent descriptions … Ice Massacre is a truly exceptional book.”

–
Foreword
Clarion Reviews, 5-star review

★ “Fascinating, unique, scary and written with a beautiful economy of words…”

– 23rd Annual Writer’s Digest Self-Published Book Awards

#1 Amazon Kindle Best Seller

First Place Winner: Dante Rossetti Awards 2014

Foreword
10 Best Indie YA novels of 2014

Foreword Reviews’
2014 INDIEFAB Book of the Year Finalist

CHAPTER ONE
The Massacre Committee

Hanging from the crooked branch of a maple tree wasn’t that glamorous—not what my people would expect from an honoured Massacre survivor. Legs swinging to try and get a foothold, strands of hair clinging to my face, I heaved myself onto the next branch.

This would have been easier if I’d had the use of both hands.

Out of breath and halfway up, I paused, deciding how best to continue. The tree had forked and my legs were splayed, one foot against each trunk. In my fist, the owlet gave a feeble hoot.

I glared at him. He could hardly be called cute, with his sparse white fluff and oversized feet.

“Your family reunion better be worth all of this,” I said.

I pushed off one trunk and wrapped my limbs around the other, then shimmied higher until I was level with the nest.

Two owlets peered back at me, identical to the one in my fist.

“Gaawhist,” I said.
Home, sweet home.

I placed my rescue next to his siblings, where he toppled sideways and blinked a few times. I poked him to make sure I hadn’t squeezed him too tightly. He ruffled himself and settled in.

Maybe I couldn’t help everyone survive, but I could, at least, save this one life.

I just hoped the mother would return soon.

I leaned against the trunk and caught my breath, my thoughts turning back to what I’d come here for. I inhaled slowly, letting the sweet scent of maple buds calm me.

From this height, the wooden, mossy cabin below seemed less imposing. I could see how these grounds might have once been used for camping—back when seaside camping was not a life-threatening activity. Now, this cabin was one of many classrooms at the Safe Training Base. Once a place to connect with wilderness, now a place to learn the best way to slaughter a sea demon.

The Massacre trainees had all gone home for dinner. The woods settled peacefully when not filled with the buzz of girls discussing battle tactics. Leaves whispered in the summer breeze, insects chirred in my ears, and a thrush somewhere near enjoyed an endless conversation with one several trees away.

Then voices cut through the forest, and the thrush fell silent.

A small group approached the cabin. I stayed still, hidden partly by leaves and partly because they wouldn’t bother looking up here.

My father led the group, conversing in a low voice with Anyo, the training master. A tough, solemn man, Anyo bore a scar where a mermaid had once torn half his scalp off. His eyes stayed downcast, hiding any indication of whether or not he was in a good mood. He was my key target. He was the one who made the ultimate decisions concerning the Massacres.

Hassun followed—a tall, muscled man in his late twenties who had also survived the Massacre, back when we were naive enough to send men. In fact, Hassun was the last ever man to survive it. It was shortly afterwards that the Massacre Committee decided to switch to female warriors.

After him came Mujihi, the thick, severe-looking father of my least favourite human being on the island.

A thirty-something woman trailed behind. I was fairly sure she was the lead seamstress for the Massacre uniforms and the widow of a former warrior.

The group entered the cabin and shut the door.

I turned back to my owlets. They blinked at me.

“Stay in your nest as long as you can,” I said. “Trust me.”

I shimmied down the trunk.

For the millionth time, I reviewed what I would say. Annith and I had rehearsed so I wouldn’t come across as an eighteen-year-old girl trying to act like an adult, but rather an enlightened warrior. It was an ongoing struggle.

I was part way down the tree when footsteps crunched nearby and Annith strode into view. She stopped outside the cabin door, glancing around.

I landed lightly in front of her on the spongy forest floor. She didn’t flinch. After a lifetime of friendship, it was as though she’d expected me to arrive via tree.

We stared at each other, my anxiety reflected on her shiny, freckled face.

“You won’t have to say anything,” I said.

“I’ll jump in if you need help.”

Leaving the soft glow of the forest, we entered the dimly lit room and the collective stare of half the Massacre Committee. Where were the rest of them?

We sat at the far side of the long table. The hard wooden seat and musty cabin smell brought back memories of my years in the training program.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and squared my shoulders.

To my left sat Hassun, rocking his chair back on two creaky legs and gazing out the window like he had better things to do. Beside him was the training master, and then the widow. An empty chair remained across from me. Mujihi stood behind everyone else, squinting down at us. Then there was my father, drumming his knuckles on the table, avoiding my eye.

No one spoke.

I swallowed, a nervous gulp that was far too loud.

“Thank you, everyone, for agreeing to meet with us.”

… finally,
I thought bitterly.

I kept my eyes on my father and Anyo. Neither of them looked at me.

“We were approached by the mermaids’ king,” I said, my words strong. “He offered a bargain.”

There. Now, they were looking at me.

“Which brings me here with my fellow Massacre warrior, Annith, to propose a new strategy for freedom from the sea demons. After decades of war, it’s clear the Massacres are not working.”

This was met with raised eyebrows, crossed arms, and unconvinced frowns. My father’s face was unreadable. He had already shown infuriating hesitation at home. But he, of all people, should have been eager to listen to a plan that might end the Massacres. He’d experienced the horrors first-hand at my age. He’d lost his son—my older brother—to one. He’d nearly lost me two weeks prior.

“We’re still starving,” I said, “we can’t go near the water, and we risk the lives of twenty warriors per mission each spring. Annith and I have a plan but we need help. According to the king, there is a lost legend about Eriana Kwai. If we can uncover it, we can use its power to bring peace—”

Hassun raised a hand. “You’re telling me the demons’ king just swam up to you and told you about this legend?”

I glanced to Annith. “Not exactly.”

What was I supposed to say? My secret, treacherous friendship with a mermaid led to this? My people would sooner throw me out to sea with a rock tied to my ankles than accept that I’d befriended a sea demon.

“He swam up to you and you didn’t shoot him?” said the widow.

“I didn’t have my crossbow.”