Chapter 24
Something big grabbed Carver’s shoulders from behind and pulled. His heart jerked in shock, and alarm streaked through him as he clamped his mouth shut, letting go of Bel just before a punishing grip dragged him forcefully under. The bright light of the surface dimmed. The water pressure intensified. He twisted violently, freeing one arm and kicking out. His foot connected with something scaly and tough that thumped beneath the water.
He wrenched around and got a water-distorted, salt-stung view of his attacker. His burning eyes widened. The huge hippocentaurine creature was man, horse, and fish. He’d never seen this kind of beast before, but there was no mistaking an ichthyocentaur when you came face-to-face with one. They hated sailors, swimmers, anything in their waters.
A male face glowered back at him, a scaly sheen to his skin and a sea-moss beard floating between them. Cruel lips and crueler eyes sneered at him as Carver pulled savagely against the creature. The enormous creature pulled back, webbed hooves and a fishlike tail propelling them away from where he’d left Bel flailing at the surface.
Fear for her spiked inside him. He used the arm the creature still held in a painful grasp for leverage and darted his free hand out to grab its neck. His lungs ached for air as he sank his fingers deep into its gills and ripped. Scales tore free along with a wash of blood. The creature bellowed and seized his wrist, yanking Carver’s hand away from him. The ichthyocentaur suddenly maneuvered him into a punishing hold around his torso and zoomed upward, breaking the surface.
Carver gulped down air and threw back an elbow. A satisfying crack followed, but it wasn’t enough to lessen the creature’s hold. Snarling, it tightened its arms, pressing Carver’s ribs in and squeezing precious air from his lungs. He blinked water from his eyes, desperately searching for Bel. He found her across the waves, and their eyes locked in panic just before the creature dove again. Water sped past him. Up and down lost all meaning. He struggled fiercely, then suddenly they surfaced again.
“You’re shark food, human.” The ichthyocentaur’s powerful fish tail sped them away from the shoreline.
Choking in a breath, Carver fought and looked wildly for Bel again. There. “Watch out!” She disappeared, dragged down by a second ichthyocentaur. Dread engulfed him, but then a bright-white sun flare burst beneath the surface. She popped up again, barely keeping her head above water. The second creature shot past them, and the one clutching him leaped and plunged, dragging him under again as it followed the other.
Carver kept his mouth shut and his eyes open, his frantic heartbeat pounding inside him. They went so deep that darkness closed in and his lungs spasmed. He fought to break free as terror gripped him. He had no weapon, no magic, and no Bel to help him out of this one. They lost sight of the second ichthyocentaur and sloped back up. Just as instinct drove him to breathe no matter what, they finally surfaced.
Carver inhaled loudly. Gasping, gagging, he lost precious seconds before he had the strength and clarity to try to tear himself free again. Throwing his head back, he cracked their skulls together. His head ringing, he gouged deep scrapes down the creature’s arms. The ichthyocentaur growled, its hooves churning next to him. One clipped his leg, shooting a fierce ache through it. Hissing in pain, he searched for Bel, finally locating her across a huge distance. Fear hollowed him. She couldn’t swim this. She had to get out of the water.
He opened his mouth to shout Go back! just as the ichthyocentaur hauled him underwater again. They went down, down, angling away from the shore. Away from Bel. Carver’s lungs cried out for air. Eyes open, still trying to break free, he resisted the impulse to breathe. It got darker and darker. Lack of sunlight. Lack of air. He refused to give in, fighting with all his strength until nature finally overpowered him. He inhaled against his will.
Extreme panic hit. His thoughts screamed. His heart howled. And as water filled his chest, his lungs burning, he suddenly realized he didn’t have his obol. His eyes shot wide, and his mind thrashed in dread and grief and fear even as his movements turned sluggish and labored. They barreled through a forest of kelp just as his strength finally failed him, his vision fading and his future all too clear. I’m damned.
His soulmate—lost. His life, done. His afterlife, stolen from him.
Carver stopped battling as false peace sank through him like oil through water. His mind still railed, but his body didn’t. His limbs started to slumber. He closed his eyes. No…his eyes closed for him. He tried to keep them open.
A watery cry suddenly jolted him back to awareness. Forcing heavy eyes open, he saw a cluster of sea nymphs attack the ichthyocentaur. His barely there pulse accelerated, pounding out slow beats that carried the tiniest bit of hope through him. The Nereids scraped with coral, scratched with shells, and battered with rods covered in sea urchins. They fought to free him as his last, thin, scattered bubbles of air left him. Furious and bleeding, the ichthyocentaur abruptly released him and turned tail, fleeing as two strong Nereids gripped Carver’s arms and swept him toward the surface.
Wavering sunlight beckoning from high above was the last thing he saw before everything went dark and silent.
***
Firm hands thumped his back between his shoulder blades. Others held him on his side. Carver’s lungs convulsed and spewed out water. One long stream of it. Two. Three. More. His lungs spasmed over and over. He gagged, hacking up more liquid. His throat burned. His chest ached. Battered and weak, he wheezed in a breath around the drops of water still choking him. A violent cough erupted in its wake.
“That’s right. Breathe.” The voice wasn’t Bel’s. It was deep and melodious, feminine and powerful. Inhuman. He forced his eyes open as the last few minutes crawled back to him.
Nereids. Wonder and gratitude filled him. They were beautiful, fierce —magical creatures whose instinct was to help rather than hurt. They looked out for sailors in need of them. Sailors and swimmers. They’d rescued him.
Salt stung his eyes and clung to his lashes. His shoulder dug into the beach, his head on the sand. He struggled to sit up, his lungs and body still starving for air. Hands shaking, he wiped sand from his mouth and jaw and croaked out the only question that mattered to him, “Bel?”
“Down shore from here,” one of the sea nymphs answered. “The ichthyocentaur dragged you out then north from where you started.”
Hard coughs racked him again. “But she’s out of the water? Bel?” His throat burned, his voice breaking. The liquid still in his chest rattled with every breath, taking up precious room from air.
“Out of the sea.” The same Nereid nodded. Diamond-bright sunlight glistened on the beads of water pearling on her dark-brown skin. “Safe.” Long, kelp-like hair flowed over her shoulders and down her body, covering her breasts and pooling in her lap. She wore the wide, reddish-tan ribbons like clothing.
“Safe for now,” the second Nereid who’d brought him ashore cautioned as she stood and looked out to sea, a frown pulling at her mouth. Mossy hair covered her to her knees. The thick, twisting locks were the bright green of sea algae and dotted with colorful coral and sea stars. “But the day’s already more than half done, and you’d best be back over the border before nightfall.”
Seawater, salt, and soreness grated in Carver’s throat. “Water? Do you have anything to drink?” he rasped, gingerly touching the front of his neck.
Both Nereids shook their heads. Seashells jangled, and a few periwinkles slipped out.
He consciously slowed his breathing, trying not to choke on every inhalation. Bellanca. Border before nightfall. He was alive—miraculously—so he could do this.
He stood, and his head spun. His limbs like lead, he took a step on the soft sand and swayed like he’d never swayed in his life, even at his drunkest.
“Easy, human.” The Nereids surrounded him. Each took an arm. “We’ll swim you there. It’ll be faster.”
He lifted his gaze to the sea and grimaced, not keen on getting back in the water.
The green-haired Nereid laughed, the sound like waves bubbling up a beach and then frothing back down again. “Don’t worry. The ichthyocentaur is long gone.”
“And knows better than to battle us again,” the other one added.
“Thank you for helping me,” Carver croaked as they propelled him toward the water. They splashed through the shallows, the Nereids half carrying him. A wave washed up his thighs, reminding him of his nakedness. He exhaled sharply as the water hit his lower abdomen. Then they were swimming.
The sea nymphs set off at a mind-boggling pace, keeping him afloat and cutting through the waves so quickly that the wind chilled his skin and goose bumps peppered his body.
“The gods never entirely forsook Atlantis. They’re ever watchful, and Poseidon posted us here to keep an eye on sailors in the great basin.”
Carver turned his head, meeting the kelp-haired Nereid’s deep-brown eyes as she swam like a lightning bolt through the water. “He still cares?”
“Of course. The islanders pray to him. He hears them, even if he keeps his distance.”
“Why do we never see you?” he asked, the long ribbons of her rosy-brown hair brushing him underwater.
“Never?” She laughed, the chiming so beautiful it hurt his already aching chest. “Where do you think ‘Be a Nereid’ comes from? Humans see and need us more than we’d like.”
“Of course,” he murmured, staring at the bright blue sky as the nymphs swept him back toward the cove by the owl cavern. Be a Nereid. It was how anyone in Atlantis started a sentence asking a woman for help. Dione did it. So did Theophania, Lilika, Spiro… Even Dex and Silas. Nereids, guardians of the sea. Guardians of Atlantis . Gratitude swelled inside him. “You saved my life. Thank you.”
The dark-skinned nymph nodded as she tore through the sea. “The hot one didn’t need our help. We chose you instead.”
He smiled faintly. No, the “hot one” rarely needed help. He felt entirely redundant sometimes, but those days when he could help Bel and they accomplished something together… Those were the only days he remembered in the end.
They finally rounded the owl cavern from the north, and he saw Bel sitting on the beach. His heart contracted painfully. She was dressed again, her head bowed against her updrawn knees and her loose hair falling around her. She hugged her legs, unmoving, her arms crossed around her shins. She sat there, curled inward, a small scrap of red on the beach, and for the first time, he thought Bel looked fragile, beaten… Like she couldn’t take on the worlds with bared teeth and blazing cheek.
His heart twisted. He never wanted to see her looking this way again, but part of him also found comfort in her distress. Maybe he wasn’t so redundant after all. Bel didn’t need saving, but maybe she needed him anyway.
The Nereids let him go just a few strokes from shore, and Carver weakly swam the rest of the way in. He turned to say goodbye, but they’d vanished, the sea empty and undisturbed. He turned back around, slowly moving up the sand. He wasn’t at all steady, but he made his way forward one step at a time. Bel didn’t look up. She hadn’t heard him. He swallowed hard.
“Bel!” A sudden cough tore at his throat.
Her head snapped up. Her lips parted, and she stared, her face the splotchy red-and-white of gut-wrenching sobs. “Carver?” Her voice hurt his heart, so scraping rough, so tear-broken and unsure. She stood, unsteady, her eyes shock-wide and huge.
He started to run to her and stumbled, half falling to the sand. He lurched up as she pitched forward and bolted down the beach. His heart beat violently, stealing what little breath he had. She rushed into his arms, and the impact of her body against his rammed him back a step. They both nearly fell. He somehow got his balance, and the first real strength he found was to grip her like he’d never let her go.
“I’m okay,” he wheezed. “I’m here.”
“Carver! Oh my gods!” She buried her face in his chest, and an awful noise exploded from her, her whole body shaking with sobs.
He exhaled roughly, his eyes burning. He swept a hand up her back and into her hair. She lifted her face, and his lips crashed down on hers. Salt tears and cherry magic. Home. Her mouth trembled under his, and she kissed him back, frantic and hard.
Utterly undone, he drank in the sight of her. “I thought I’d never see you again.” He shook as much as she did—fear, relief, the sudden release of grief. His voice cracking, he rasped, “It broke my heart.”
Sniffling, she gave him a sudden, angry shove back. “You’re a horrible son of a Cyclops!” She thumped a balled-up fist against his chest. “You scared me to death.”
“I’m sorry.” Coughing, he pulled her back in and held her close. Her breath rushed in and out, hot and ragged against his chest. She shook like the last leaf on a bare branch in winter, and he’d never felt more loved.
“How?” she finally choked out.
“Nereids.” He stroked a gentle hand up and down her back, soothing himself as much as her. His other hand stayed wrapped in her hair, the heavy red locks still cold and wet instead of fiery and warm. “They attacked the ichthyocentaur and rescued me. They help people around the island. I’m just lucky they happened to be there.” Luck, or maybe Poseidon. He’d never know and didn’t really care. What mattered was life .
Her arms around him, she looked up, swallowing. “Well… Good .”
He huffed his agreement. “But most magical creatures aren’t so kind.” He glanced around to locate the horses. “We need to get out of here and across the border before nightfall.”
Worry darkened her eyes, which already lacked their usual shine. “I can almost feel those centaurs breathing down my neck. I have for a while now.” She shivered, her gaze sliding toward the woods.
Carver rubbed her arms, trying to warm her. He didn’t feel warm himself, but they didn’t have time to spare. Reluctantly, he stepped away and took her hand, walking up the beach toward where she’d left his clothing. “I’ll dress while you get the horses.”
Bel nodded but didn’t move from his side. Instead, she watched him dress in a way that both heated his blood and wrenched his insides. He finished buckling his belt over his tunic as she murmured, “I couldn’t save you.” Moisture welled in her eyes. “I–I couldn’t do anything.” Her voice wavered, and she choked back more tears.
Carver reached out and gathered her in his arms again. “Your magic is nearly matchless, but it can’t do everything. Just like my sword arm can’t. Having limitations is part of being human.”
“Then I’d rather be a god,” she said fiercely.
“Never.” Carver shook his head. “There might be obstacles ahead, but you and I have a chance at being happy and at peace. I don’t think a god can ever have that.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “Happy and at peace sounds nice.”
And it was exactly what he wanted for them. They just had to make it through an Olympianomachy first.
Looking up, Carver whistled to get Zeph’s attention. His horse trotted over, and Arete followed only a few steps behind. He nudged Bel toward her mare. “Check your girth before you mount.”
Bel slipped out of his arms. “Check yours ,” she grumbled with some of her usual tartness and spark.
“I always do.” And he watched her make sure hers was secure before backing off.
Once she was safely atop Arete, her reins in her hands, he checked over his tack and mounted Zeph. He usually swung up with ease, but this time, he felt like he was scaling a mountain. Breathing hard, coughing again, he settled heavily into his saddle.
Bel eyed him with a frown. “You must’ve swallowed a lot of water.”
More like inhaled. Simply clearing his throat in reply, he urged Zeph up the beach toward the rough coastal path. Arete kept pace beside him, and they headed south as the sun headed west.
Once they were firmly on their way, his gaze flicked to the Shard of Olympus around Bel’s neck. “Do you think it always glows?”
She tucked the amulet under her tunic, slanting a cautionary look at a dryad that peeked out at them from behind a tree. “It hasn’t stopped yet.”
“What does it feel like?”
“Still cold,” she said, matching his quiet tone, “but the amulet makes it bearable. And like raw power. Raw and charged and ready to burst out along with my magic.”
Nodding, he coughed again, the harsh grating in his sore, irritated throat lasting too long and making too much noise. Grimacing, he tried to quiet the fit as he looked warily around. They were in Hera’s back garden. Mount Olympus glared down at them, and just the feel of it this close made his neck prickle with an icy warning. He wouldn’t let being back on land give him the illusion of safety. Everything about this place screamed danger in every language known to man or god.
He dug his water out of his saddle bag and drank. Finally, his voice scratching, he said, “Raw and charged and ready to burst sounds good, because we might need every last bit of that before this day is over.”