Chapter 19 #2
The water surrounding the podium ripples with destructive force. A Vanguard guard tries to rush Soryn from the side. The moment the guard crosses the invisible threshold, he is thrown backward into the crowd, struck by an invisible iron hammer.
"We need to shut it down!" I cry, gripping his arm.
Kael closes his dark eyes. Tilting his heavy head, he listens to the water.
He ignores the screams of the dying guards. He ignores the crunch of crab claws on marble. He listens to the core of the weapon.
"It possesses a frequency," he murmurs.
His new voice vibrates in my chest, a steady anchor in the chaos.
"Everything emits a frequency in the water, Vaelis. Everything."
He opens his eyes. Black, bottomless, and calm. He possesses his target.
"Bolt," he says. "Amplify me."
"Amplify what?" Bolt asks, sparking blue inside his cage.
"The shell," Kael commands. "The copper coils. Turn the structure into an acoustic receiver. Loop your engine output to the iron hull."
"You will shatter the entire structure!" Bolt warns, the water around his cage boiling. "You will tear yourself apart from the inside!"
"Do it!" Kael roars.
Bolt flares his brightest blue. The rusted House of Drift hums with terrifying new energy. The copper cage glows white in the gloom, channeling raw electrical power into the hull beneath our fins.
Kael swims to the edge of the rusted porch.
He grips the iron railing with both hands. His knuckles turn white under the strain. He anchors his tail against the floorboards, bracing his body for the physical recoil.
"Watch my back," Kael says, keeping his focus forward. "Do not let them break my concentration."
"I have you," I swear.
Drawing my ceremonial dagger, the ray-skin grip seats flush against my palm. Turning my back to Kael, I face the chaotic plaza.
I shed the role of bait. I abandon the burden of a signal.
I forge my body into his shield, mirroring the same defense he provides me.
Kael stares down the pulsing Tidal Bore. The crystal spire screams, emitting a high-pitched, agonizing whine. Soryn grins, eyes wide.
Kael opens his mouth.
He forgoes a roar. He rejects a shout.
He sings.
The note starts low. A heavy, sub-harmonic thrum counters the sickening vibration radiating from the floor.
Hummmmm. The shaking in the marble stops.
Soryn looks up from the console, confused by the sudden stabilization. He scans the crowd, searching for the source of the interference.
Kael pitches his deep voice higher. He matches the agonizing whine of the weapon.
This offers no pretty, melodic sound. It is a raw, jagged, terrifying note of pure acoustic power. It holds the history of the Wastes. The sound of tectonic plates grinding together in the dark. The sound of the crushing pressure of the black abyss.
The Song of the Trench.
The crystal spire wavers. The light pulsing inside flickers, struggling against the competing frequency.
Soryn spots Kael on the porch. He registers the threat.
"Kill the shark!" Soryn screams, pointing at the shell. "That one!"
Two Royal Guards break from the melee. They raise their spears and charge the porch, locking their sight on Kael's exposed back.
I launch myself from the wood.
Colliding with the first guard mid-water, I drive the hilt of my dagger into his helm.
The impact rings through my arm. The guard falls, his spear clattering to the marble.
The second guard thrusts. Twisting my tail, I dodge the iron tip and slice my blade across the webbing of his fins.
He cries out, retreating into the crowd.
Falling back to the porch, I reclaim my position behind Kael. I keep my blade raised. My chest heaves.
Nothing breaks my line.
"Fire! Fire the weapon, damn you!" Soryn screams, slamming his hand against the activation key.
The Tidal Bore fires. A blinding beam of pure sonic energy erupts from the glowing tip, aimed at the foundation of the city.
Kael’s heavy song meets it head-on.
The two frequencies collide in the center of the Plaza.
The resulting sound is blinding. The pitch pushes beyond the physical capability of hearing, yet it tears at my biology. My bones rattle in my flesh. The freezing water turns scalding hot.
Kael’s broad back arches in agony. Blood trickles from his nose. Dark red ribbons curl into the water from his ears. The physical strain of projecting the sound tears his newly healed vocal cords apart from the inside.
"Kael!" I scream, watching his scales pale under the pressure.
He refuses to stop. He pushes harder. He pours every ounce of his new voice, every agonizing second of his stolen silence, into the heavy note. He utilizes the copper hull of the shell to amplify the sound, transforming his own body into a living weapon.
He rewrites the deadly song of the machine. He turns the scream into a heavy lullaby.
Another Royal Guard breaches our perimeter, lunging for Kael with a drawn blade.
Before I strike, a heavy iron harpoon tears through the water, pinning the guard to a marble column.
I check the shell.
Mira slumps against the rusted doorway, a heavy pneumatic harpoon gun resting in her lap. The pressure valves hiss a stream of bubbles into the water. The brutal recoil of the weapon threw her frail body against the iron frame, but her milky eyes burn fierce.
She offers a weak, painful nod.
We hold the line.
CRACK.
A spiderweb fracture appears on the flawless face of the crystal spire.
Soryn screams, backing away from the console. "No!"
CRACK.
The fracture spreads. The agonizing hum of the Bore turns into a screech of dying, twisting metal. The internal pressure of the conflicting frequencies tears the machine apart.
Kael takes one shuddering breath. Blood stains his lips.
He delivers the final, devastating note.
A roar. A challenge. A promise to the deep.
SHATTER.
The Tidal Bore explodes.
It foregoes an explosion of fire or shrapnel. It explodes in sound. A shockwave of pure, heavy silence blasts outward, knocking everyone flat against the marble ground. Guards, scavengers, nobles, all swept away by the invisible tide.
The crystal spire disintegrates into a blinding cloud of fine diamond dust.
The podium console ruptures, throwing Soryn backward into the decorative fountain.
Silence claims the High Plaza.
A real, profound silence. The sickening hum fades. The fighting stops. Smoke rises from the ruined metal of the podium.
Pulling myself up from the floorboards of the porch, a high, thin whine rings in my ears. My dagger slips from my fingers.
"Kael?" I whisper, wiping the crust from my eyes.
He rests against the rusted railing of the porch. He breathes hard, his broad chest heaving. Blood drips from his nose and ears, staining his gray scales. The raw, terrifying power fades from his form. He looks exhausted.
Yet, a smile graces his lips.
He looks at me through the settling dust.
"Did you hear that?" he rasps. His voice presents a broken, jagged ruin, stripped raw by the effort.
"Is that a serious question?" I ask, sinking to the floorboards beside him and pulling his heavy head into my lap.
"No, not me," he rumbles, closing his eyes. "The quiet. It's nice."
I laugh.
A sob catches in my throat.
Leaning down, I bury my face in his solid chest. I listen to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. He is alive.
"You did it," I weep into him, holding him close. "You broke it."
Below us, the diamond dust settles on the marble floor like fresh snow.
The crowd begins to rise. They stare in awe at the ruined weapon. They stare in disgust at Elder Soryn groaning in the shallow fountain, broken and defeated.
Then, the crowd lifts their attention to us.
Taren swims forward from the broken infantry line. He checks his spear, then checks the monster on the porch. He drops the iron weapon. It clatters against the marble.
Lowering his tail, he bows his head.
"Hail," Taren says.
Other Vanguard guards follow his lead. Weapons hit the floor in a cascading rhythm. The glittering nobles bow their heads. The scarred scavengers lower their weapons.
They offer no bow to a pampered Prince.
They bow in reverence to the so-called Trench Monster who bled to sing their city to sleep.
I check Kael.
He opens his eyes. Terror grips him at the display of mass submission. A creature of the dark, unaccustomed to the worship of the light.
"What are they doing?" he whispers, gripping my hand.
"I think," I say, taking his scarred hand and raising it high into the water for the Reef to witness, "they are finally listening."
The dust settles over the plaza.
A surviving Elder approaches from the ruined shadows. His golden robes hang torn. He studies the crushed marble of the central spire. He turns his attention to me.
"Prince Vaelis," the Elder says. His voice shakes. "The tyrant is dead. The High Council requires a new leader. Take his seat. Guide the Reef."
I stare at the Elder. I look past him to the glittering towers of the royal palace.
The golden light holds no warmth.
It forms a cage. A prison built on lies and poisoned water.
Turning my head, I find Kael at my side. His broad chest heaves with heavy breaths. His dark eyes trace my features, awaiting my choice.
Reaching for him, I grip his scarred hand. I interlock my fingers with his.
"I reject your Reef and the next tyrant you choose to worship," I command the Elder. The words settle across the ruined stone. "I shed the Vael. I forfeit the title of Red Prince. My name is Vaelis. I am a betta-mer, and I belong to the deep."
The Elder stares in shock.
I turn my back on him. I pull Kael by the hand toward the open ocean.
We leave the false light to rot.
The Vanguard guards mount no pursuit. They drag Soryn from the ruined fountain, pinning his arms to bind his wrists. The surviving citizens swarm the marble, desperate to tear the fallen tyrant apart. The soldiers form a living barricade, shoving the vengeful crowd back.
We dive over the edge of the High Plaza shelf. Sinking into the dark water, the House of Drift already waits for us, moving forward slowly in the shadows below the kelp line. We swim inside. Kael seals the entrance with a heavy iron hatch. The engine hums a low, comforting rhythm.
We are free.