The Vicious Deep Part 14

I think I might let him hold my new dagger just for fun.

The hush over the court reminds me of the silence during a meet, just before I dive. Bodies rustle against each other, lips whisper behind cupped hands.

Here, the sun is shining. My stomach rumbles because I missed the seaweed buffet while I tried the armor on. It's only a skirt underlined with leather so you can shift into your tail without ripping your clothes. Even without a mirror, I decided to change back into my cargo shorts.

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at me with annoyance as I take my place beside the king. Beside him is Layla in her new mermaid-woven dress. The rosy silk clings to her body like a second skin, and it's so translucent that I can see her muscles flex beneath it. Somehow she looks like she belongs here more than I do.

When my grandfather snaps his fingers, the little green boy with the golden conch comes running. He blows into the conch until the whispers die out and all you can hear is the breeze in the trees and the trickle of the waterfall behind the wall. The Sea King stands to his full height. He's quite spectacular to look at, with his mane of white hair and turquoise eyes. His voice is amplified in the silence. "Today is a day like no other," the king announces. "Today I welcome home a lost son, Tristan Hart, my grandson."

There's polite applause and some overly enthusiastic cheering that I bet comes from Marty's section of the crowd.

The king looks around at the crowd, one by one. He licks the salty wind off his lips and says, "We are the keepers of the deep, ancient as the belly of the sea, a remnant of every era of this world. And yet our numbers fall to others who will have us drown in our own waters, our magics all but lost as we war among ourselves. We are forgotten. But we are not gone, and we are not going just yet."

At the last bit, the heralds stare sheepishly at their scaly toes.

"I presume some of you wonder why we've returned to these sh.o.r.es eighteen years too early. I have no living sons. My reign is ending, like the remnants of a storm, and soon I will return to the waves that created me."

Across from me, the grizzly silver merman Elias whispers something into his girl's ear. I want to throw something at them to make them shut up and pay attention.

"I give you my trident." He holds up the spectacular golden shaft. It crackles and sparks and radiates its own light from the quartz. "He who holds the trident is the King of the Seas. For millennia, there hasn't been a championship for the throne. The last one to win it was my great-great-grandfather, Pelagios. In my time, a champion will win my throne. Each champion will be selected by his regional herald. With one exception. I will select my own."

The green boy with the conch scuttles back out, his webbed feet slapping on the ground. His voice is high pitched and amplified for someone his size. "From the West Sea, Dylan, son of Ammon." A tall, broad man steps forward. His hair is like raw gold with streaks of silver. His skin is slick with a golden tan, and he has patches of scales along his ribs. He wears a small gold band across his forehead with carved symbols I have no name for. He holds a young guy's arm up in the air. The guy is a younger version of the herald. Ammon and his son. Their tent roars with applause as they walk before the throne, beating their chests like something out of Clash of the t.i.tans.

If there were ever a time for me to s.h.i.t my pants, it would probably be now.

"From the South, Adaro, son of Leomaris." Father and son strut out with their fists in the air. They have long black hair and skin like sienna chalk. Their scales are a cl.u.s.ter of reds and oranges. Adaro bows and presses his fist to his chest like an oath.

I hate the way Layla whistles for him, as she did with the guy before that. I know she's just having fun. But she should only be whistling and cheering for me.

Adaro bows to the king before standing beside Dylan, two warriors with their arms behind their backs and chests puffed out with pride.

"From the North, Brendan, son of Finbar." The loudest cheer erupts as this guy walks out with his father. They're the tallest of the bunch and not as abrasively muscular as the other champions. They at least smile instead of roar at the crowd. The father has cropped gray hair, more GI Joe than the other gladiator-like heralds. His son, Brendan, has a shock of bright red hair that reminds me of my mom. A woman with the same red hair, piled in a sophisticated bun and decorated with starfish and pearls, walks behind Finbar. The slope of her nose and her sharp cheekbones are so much like my mom's that a pang of nostalgia hits me like a shock. She waves at her son, who shakes one fist in the air. He could be one of my friends, and I can already tell he's not taking this as seriously as the rest.

I motion toward the red-haired woman. "Is she-?"

My grandfather nods once. "Mm-hmm. She is my daughter Maristella."

The green boy then announces, "From the East, the herald competes as his own representative, Elias, son of Ellion." Elias and his fiancee stride out of their tent. They remind me of Jerry's parents during parent-teacher conferences, the way they walk side by side but look in opposite directions. Elias is all roaring chest-pumping, and his Snow White mermaid stands there barely holding his hand like if he were going over a cliff she'd definitely let go. I sort of like her. Despite getting the fewest cheers, Elias takes the most time walking back and forth in front of my grandfather, who frowns at the display.

The boy with the conch blows on it lightly and clears his throat. Oh, s.h.i.t. I'm up. But-I don't have an entourage. I don't have my dad or a fiancee to walk me in front of the court and show off my goods. Compared to everyone else, I'm actually wearing too many clothes. Maybe I should've worn the metal skirt after all.

"The Sea King's champion for the High Court." Somehow, people are already cheering. "Tristan Hart, son of David Hart."

Am I supposed to prance around beating my chest like a chimp in front of my grandfather? Right now what I'm least prepared for is the cheering. They're actually cheering at me. Granted, I can make out Thalia and Layla and Marty, and if I listen hard enough, I can even hear Kurt hollering. But then there's Hannah, and the boy with the turtle sh.e.l.l and his mom, and even my mother's sister is clapping with a smile on her face. I find Layla's face in the crowd, her skin glowing in the light. She c.o.c.ks her head to the side and blows me a kiss the way she always does before a meet, and deep in my heart this all feels right.

My grandfather grabs my hand and holds it in the air, just as the heralds did for their kids, and suddenly I wish my dad were here to see. I haven't won anything yet; I've just been introduced to a court of sea creatures, but they're not booing. At least not yet. Maybe I can do this. I pull off my shirt and strap the dagger to my bare chest. I'm not rippling with the muscles of the other bros, but I've got a pretty hot body.

Finally, the boy with the conch steps forward and blows the horn. I take my place beside Elias, who isn't shy about the way he snarls at me.

The Sea King stands again. "The five champions of the High Court," he says for a final round of applause. It dawns on me that if I have to fight any of these guys, I'm done for. I can hold my own in a fight against some a.s.shole after school, but I'm not at Thorne Hill anymore, and Elias could crack my skull open and use it as a serving bowl if he wanted to.

"The challenges that await our champions will try their strength, their minds, and their hearts. They will come face-to-face with the darkest parts of their souls as they go in search of the power of the Sea King." The king holds the crackling trident over his head. When he releases it, it levitates and spins slowly over his outstretched palms. "This is the power of the Sea King, a gift from the G.o.ds."

The trident breaks cleanly into three pieces and sounds like knives sharpening. The three-p.r.o.nged fork crackles with thin fissures of lightning at its tips. Its handle fits into a long staff made of braided gold. The bottom is a long and jagged spear that appears to be made of quartz or some kind of cloudy gla.s.s; it has a bra.s.s handle. Each piece hovers in the air over the lake. They each spin in their own contained tornado until the force is too much and they're sucked down into the lake. Down, down, down into the blackness of the bottom.

My grandfather dusts his hands and sits back on his throne. He glows a little less than before. The effect isn't instant, but it's noticeable to me.

"Where have they gone?" someone gasps.

"Each piece has been sent to an oracle. There are five remaining sea oracles on this plane. The champion who retrieves the trident rules this throne."

"What if no one champion gathers all three?" Adaro asks.

The Sea King leans forward slowly. "Those with a single piece will return here, and a final duel will occur."

So much for not having to fight the guys directly.

"What is today?" Grandfather turns to the green boy, who whispers in Grandfather's ear. "Ah. The next full moon is just over a fortnight away. Leave at sundown and return with your findings at the next full moon, or not at all."

"But sire," the herald of the West speaks up, "the oracles shift their locations every so many years. Their last known locations may have changed."

"I never said it would be easy," the king says with a tiny wink. "You all have excellent resources at your disposal."

Wait a minute. I don't have a strategy. I don't have resources. What was my grandfather thinking? What am I thinking?

Before I can say anything, my grandfather pats me on the back as if he's done it a million times before. "Now, let the festivities continue."

It's still daylight, but the sun is sinking, allowing the pale blue sky to burst with the first signs of pink and yellow.

Kurt is at my side. We sit alone watching our companions eat and drink the strange new flavors, dive into the cool water, and laugh. "Congratulations."

"Where the h.e.l.l have you been all day? Shaking hands and kissing babies?"

He looks a bit embarra.s.sed. "I've been asked to give accounts on what your character is like."

"Did you tell them I took you to the mall and fed you swine, because that's what I do to all the merpeople who come out of my faucet?"

"I was gracious, I promise."

"Can I ask you something?"

"I believe you already have."

"Don't hang around Marty so much. You're starting to joke like him. But seriously. What's a fortnight?"

Kurt laughs, actually laughs. "Fourteen days."

"How was I supposed to know?"

"The important thing is that you know now. You must also know the king would like to speak to us privately before we leave."

"Is he going to give me a cloak of invisibility or something useful? I mean, all I've got is you and Thalia. If I can get her to sit still for more than a second."

He doesn't acknowledge me. Not just because I'm being a smart-a.s.s, but because Elias is standing in front of Layla and Marty with his finger pointing in their faces. When he yells, he spits. The music stops, and everyone drops their instruments, their food, their turtle-sh.e.l.l Frisbees to hear what the yelling is about. Marty stands in front of Layla to block her and shoves Elias right on the chest. Elias shoves him back, sending him splashing into the lake.

We rush over to them.

Kurt becomes all political etiquette and calm. I pull out my dagger. "What seems to be the problem?"

Elias points at my friends. "These humans have stolen from me."

"Do not forget that she is my sister and of the court. The boy is of the alliance, and the girl-the girl belongs to Tristan-who is a champion-" As well-spoken as he is, Kurt really does seem to be making all of it up.

Layla stands but wobbles. "I don't belong to anyone," she says indignantly. "This is the twenty-first century."

Elias is the first to laugh. "There! She denies being his. Therefore, she is a thief."

"I am not!" She's drunk. She's drunk, and now she's going to get herself killed.

"They've stolen drink from my family's tent."

Thalia gets in between Elias and her brother, holding a long, thin gla.s.s full of bubbly green liquid. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was champagne with green food coloring, like we tried to do last St. Patrick's Day. "This is of the court, not just for you and yours."

"The human girl is not of the court, which makes her a thief. Guards!"

The guards trot around us. "Whoa, whoa! Easy." I look to my grandfather, but he shakes his head as if he can't help me. "Is there a different way to resolve this?"

Kurt leans in to my ear and whispers, "Elias is very influential. He'll argue his way into having her beheaded. Your grandfather is no longer truly Sea King, and other than some loyalty, he doesn't have the same power he did before giving up the trident. Elias knows that."

"You're not so scary." Layla presses her finger on Elias's bare chest.

"This is ridiculous," Elias says, exasperated because the guards can't move in on her and the king can't take sides.

"I can take you," Layla says again.

"Shut up," I say between gritted teeth. "Do you have a death wish? I can't save you."

"Since when do you save me?" She turns back to Elias. "I challenge you to a race. Little ole human me versus big ole champion-of-the-wicked-East you."

The crowd eggs them on. It's like I'm watching a fight break out in the cafeteria because someone stared at someone else too long.

Elias turns to the king. "She is a disgrace to our people, and the only way is to punish her."

"I wouldn't think a guy your size would be afraid of little me." Leave it to Layla, standing up to guys three times her size. When I was in middle school-tall but really skinny-the ninth-graders picked on me, and Layla once kicked a kid in his shins with her little cowgirl boots. That's when I knew I couldn't live without her. But this isn't a junior-high bully we can just run away from. This is a holier-than-thou merman who doesn't like either of us breathing the same air as him.

"I take your challenge as an insult. Disgraceful. The champion of the king brings humans among us. He does not deserve to be champion." Every other word is laced with a kind of hatred I don't recognize. People usually like me. I mean, I'm a pretty nice guy.

"He cannot help bringing humans among us," Grandfather says, "as he is half human himself."

I realize he's just made a joke, and so does everyone else. He may not have his trident, but he's still seen as king, and the crowd laughs at his joke. See, my grandfather is a pretty nice guy too.

"I've seen her swim, sire," Kurt says, his face turning red suddenly. "She is exceptional, even for a human."

Layla crosses her arms and bobs her head at me.

"You have a courageous heart," my grandfather commends her. "But it is also a foolish heart. If you lose, you will be set on a sailboat without an escort to face the sea on your own. Should you win, you will be an honorary member of this court. No harm can come to you by my people."

"As long as they are still your people." Elias growls loud enough so that only we who are nearest can hear him.

"I'd like to take her place in the challenge," I say.

Kurt shakes his head. "You can't. It's done. They've accepted."

"What happens if Elias loses?"

Thalia shrugs. "This never happens. If he challenged another merman and lost, he'd have his fins stripped and he'd be left out in the sea to die."

My laugh is bitter, nervous. "Comforting."

Layla pulls on the straps of her dress, and the silk pools around her feet. She's down to her bra, the same lacy pink-and-black thing she was wearing when she decided to surprise me in the pool.

I hold my hands out to them. "Are you sure there isn't anything to be done?"

Kurt and Thalia shake their heads. Even Thalia's pretty smile is a tight line.

I follow behind Layla. "Why, why, why, couldn't you have just let me talk?"

"You don't talk for me, Finn. Don't you believe in me?"

"It's not that, Layla. I do." I just can't have anything happen to you. I leave it unsaid.

"Not enough, I guess."

I grab her wrist. My whole body is hot. I don't know what to say to her now. I love you? Please don't die? She's almost a better swimmer than me. On my bad days she beats me. But this guy is a full-blown merman. The whispers of the court surround us like a swarm of mosquitoes. She pulls her hand free from my hold and practices her breathing. Just like at any other meet.

I rub my hands over my face. This is happening.

This is happening, and I'm not doing anything to stop it.

They dive at the same time.

There is one giant intake of breath from all of us that makes the hair on my body stand on end. She hits the water. A clean, perfect dolphin dive. That's what Coach calls her, his pet dolphin. I don't know how the water is, but it looks warm at least. She doesn't come up right away for breath. Her body is a blur beside Elias's.

My heart feels like the time I spent an entire homeroom making a rubber ball, twisting and snapping rubber band after rubber band into a tight ball the size of my fist. My heart is a ball of twisted rubber-and that's how every girl wants to make a guy feel, right?

She's falling behind Elias. Not by much, but enough to keep even my grandfather at the edge of his throne. She comes up for air, and that's the beauty of it: he doesn't have to. She's going to lose. And she's going to die. And it's all going to be my fault.