For your enjoyment, while we wait for the release of Book #4 in the Sacred Breath series, here are the first two chapters of the novel.
Hope you enjoy them! =)
“Ten years is a long time to take deciding
if you’re going to go out on a simple date with a fellow.”
“Maybe to you land-dwellers,” the redhead
responded, staring down at the food on her plate in disappointment. “I have
spent fifty years pondering over whether I should share a meal with a man, and
I still regretted those decisions. My mind is usually too occupied with
more important issues. Do they have oysters here?”
The bald man’s lips curled upwards.
“Oysters are an aphrodisiac, you know.”
“I’m
currently more interested in the zinc and selenium,” she muttered. With a sigh,
Sionna pressed the tips of her fingernails into her forehead. “Marshal Landou,
you know I’m only doing this because my sister forced me to, right?”
“She
said you lost a bet.”
“An
unhappy married woman can never stand to see a happy single woman get away
unscathed—she must try to compromise her liberty at every chance.” Sionna
finally relented to the meal before her and used her utensils to deftly deposit
a piece of swordfish against her tongue. She closed her eyes at the flavor.
Acutely aware that she was being observed by her dinner companion, she lifted
her eyelids to reveal sharp jade irises. “Visola shamelessly conned me into this,
even though she knows that I find your character and your face both hideous.”
“Did
she also tell you how irresistible I find a difficult woman?” Marshal Landou
asked casually, picking up his wine glass.
“No,”
Sionna said, lifting a condescending crimson brow, “or I would have been acting
easy and accommodating.”
“Come
now, Dr. Ramaris,” Marshal Landou said with a smirk. He took a generous draft
of wine as he considered her smugly. “We both know that for all of Visola’s
schemes, you can hold your own. You wouldn’t be here unless it suited your
personal purposes. This evening may be strictly about business for you, but
since you have lured me here under the pretense of pleasure, I intend to have
some. Let’s be direct: tell me what I can do for you.”
Sionna sliced the spiky head off a spear
of asparagus before inserting it between her lips. She stared thoughtfully at
the man as she chewed. “So you think you know me,” she observed.
“No,”
he answered, ignoring the bloody steak before him as he gazed hungrily at her
face, “but I recognize that mischievous glint in your eye. Everyone thinks that
you and your twin sister are so different, but in addition to your identical
bodies, you have identical body language. I can read you like a book, Sio. You
have the same tells.”
Sionna snorted at this, grasping her fork
a little too firmly as she pointed it at the man across the dining table.
“Visola has no tells. She is the most unpredictable phenomenon on this planet,
and any man who presumes to think he can read her will surely end up crushed
under a pickup truck.”
“And
you, Dr. Ramaris? What of the men who underestimate you?”
She lowered her eyes and her fork,
realizing how aggressive and threatening she must appear to the American man.
Inhaling the warm air of the restaurant to produce a soothing effect on her
body, she stabbed a spear of asparagus before slicing it in half. “I generally
don’t provide anyone with the opportunity to underestimate me,” she answered
softly, “but you will find that my methods are much more subtle and much more
effective than a pickup truck.”
“I
have heard of your methods,” Marshal Landou said with a smile. He swirled the
dark liquid in his glass briefly before inhaling the scent of the contents.
“You intrigue me, Dr. Ramaris. Tell me what you want and how I can help you.
Then I will tell you how you can help me.”
Sionna tried to conceal her grimace.
“Actually, I have a business proposal. I have developed a serum which I am
currently testing on Homo sapiens sapiens…”
“A
serum?” he asked with a frown. “Your country doesn’t have to be concerned with
science and research any longer. Adlivun is in the free market now. Relax and
let the big boys deal with the pharmaceuticals, little lady.”
The knife in Sionna’s hand twitched before
descending to dissect the unsuspecting asparagus. “I came to you first before
going commercial with this product because I believe it can be very beneficial
to your military. I thought you might consider using government funding to help
test and tweak my product so that it can be FDA approved. Are you interested or
not, Landou?”
“What
does the serum do?” he asked curiously. “I’m guessing it’s not an aphrodisiac.”
Ignoring this completely, Sionna picked up
her napkin and dabbed the corners of her mouth. “For a few hours, it emulates
our adaptation.”
The large bald man froze. “It emulates
your…”
“Did
I stutter?” Sionna asked, returning her napkin to her lap. She crossed her arms
across her chest and glared at the man. “For a few hours after ingesting this
serum, a land-dweller is capable of breathing underwater, similar to our
people. Obviously, it doesn’t recreate every advantage of Homo sapiens
marinus, but the most essential…”
“That’s
impossible,” Marshal Landou said briskly. “It can’t be done.”
Sionna cocked her head to the side.
“That’s true. But I did it anyway.”
The bald man sitting across from her
stared without blinking for several seconds. Finally, he tossed the remaining
contents of his wine glass down his throat. “What in God’s name prompted you to
create such a thing?”
“It
was an accident really; a personal project for a family member. As you know, a
few years ago, the king’s brother had a daughter who was unable to breathe
underwater. At first this was fine, and Callder and Brynne kept her mostly in
Upper Adlivun. As she grew older, around her sixth birthday, she began to
express her wishes to swim below and started sneaking away to… well, it’s not
important.” Sionna shook her head. “Basically, I solved the problem. I have
discussed the other possible applications with my sister, and we concluded that
the primary use for such a serum should be national defense.”
“Yes,”
Marshal Landou said quickly, “definitely defense. You must keep this
confidential and tell no one else.”
“Obviously,”
Sionna said, swirling her fork aimlessly in her mashed potatoes. “We’re not
stupid. We could use this serum to explode the tourism industry, or even
to explode our populace, but we are already seeing a decline in the birthrate
of humans capable of breathing underwater. It’s more important to us that we
preserve our natural abilities. We want to protect our culture and heritage as
much as possible, and avoid assimilating too much with Americans.”
“That’s
too bad. I was hoping to assimilate with you.”
Sionna’s fingers lightly pressed against
the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Visola warned me you would say such things.
Therefore, I am only repulsed and not surprised. I believe most of the power of
any feeling is in the surprise, and I try to avoid being surprised to avoid
having feelings. Do you have anything to say about my serum?”
Landou cleared his throat. “So, this
substance gives human lungs the ability…”
“To
produce an enzyme which catalyzes the extraction of oxygen from water.”
“I
see,” the man replied, pouring more wine into his glass hastily. “Well, I’ll
have to consult with some of my officers and see if this can benefit us.”
“Of
course it can benefit you,” Sionna said with a frown.
“Yes,
yes, but you know, there could be a really huge market for this outside the
military. Are you sure you’re not interested in pursuing the commercial
options?”
“I’m
well aware of the potential market,” Sionna said in a low voice, leaning
forward. Her green eyes hardened as they locked with his. “Do you want to do
business with me or not, Marshal Landou?”
The man stared motionlessly. Finally, a
slow smile overtook his face. “Please. Call me Gaston.”
*
*
*
A soldier grasped a brunette’s slender
forearm, yanking her roughly through the inhospitable hallways of a rundown
ship. He did not notice that the pale flesh did not yield under his grip, but
instead remained rigid as rock. It was only the small size of the woman’s physique
that he registered, not its solid quality, as he continued to drag her through
the narrow corridor. When he reached the door number inscribed on her bracelet,
he wrenched her wrist up to his eye level to confirm the numbers. He nodded,
shifting his eyes to his captive’s face, which was mostly shielded by plain
brown locks. He barked at the woman harshly.
“Employee
number Five-Nine-Zero-Seven-Three! Stay in your cabin. This is your final
warning!” The soldier used his left hand to swing the thin panel of wood open,
and shoved the woman roughly forward onto the floor. Her head slammed against
the wall of other side of the small cabin before she crumpled to the ground.
There was contempt on her face, but she did not turn to look at the soldier in
the doorway until she heard him close the door and turn the lock. Once she
heard footsteps, her chin slowly swiveled so that her blue eyes could burn
through the flimsy door.
“Employee
indeed,” she said.
“Mama,”
whispered a small voice. The woman’s head snapped to the right to observe the
small girl huddled on the narrow wooden bed. “Why did you let him hurt you?”
Aazuria briskly lifted herself from the
ground and rushed over to the disappointing piece of furniture. Planting
herself beside her daughter, she swept the child up into her arms. The
makeshift bed creaked under her as she hugged the girl against her chest.
“Trust me, darling. We can learn more from lurking in the shadows as faceless
nobodies. If we revealed ourselves now, we would never know the truth of what
is happening in Adlivun. For if your father knew, he would not allow this to
continue. Trevain would surely...”
Drawing a ragged sigh, Aazuria reached up
to unclip and remove the drab brown wig from her head. Her own long white locks
tumbled down her back, blanched from lack of sunlight. She used her fingers to
gently feel her eyebrows, which were irritated from waterproof makeup. They had
been darkened to match her wig and were now rather itchy. Tossing the wig to
the floor, Aazuria lowered herself to the rickety bed, curling up beside her
daughter on the thin mattress. A giant yawn escaped her lips.
“You
were gone for sixteen hours, mama,” Varia said, frowning down at the tired
woman. “Did you work very hard?”
“They
forced me to do a double-shift,” Aazuria explained as her eyelids glided
closed. “We were working on fortifying the foundations of the bridge deep
underwater. It was taxing—they shot a man when he tried to leave.”
“Are
they allowed to do that?” Varia asked.
Aazuria shook her head. “According to the
treaty, each citizen is only required to work for forty hours a week—but
everywhere I go, they are violating the terms to abuse our people. Look at
these living conditions. Adlivun was built with echoes of sixteenth century
grandeur. Now our people are holed up in tiny cabins of rundown slave-ships.
This brig is the worst kind of hovel, and I do believe there are fleas in this
mattress.”
Varia twitched, looking down at the
bedding suspiciously. She clenched her tiny fists, intending to strike the bed
to pummel the fleas into oblivion, but changing her mind when she realized that
a strike would collapse the bed altogether. She sighed in defeat, allowing the
fleas a temporary victory. “At least when we were held captive in Lake Vostok,
we weren’t separated for most of the day! Now I only get to see you when you’re
sleeping. The rest of the day you’re being worked to the bone. This is worse,
Mother. This is far worse than before.”
“I
know, dear.” Aazuria sighed and reached out to pull her daughter down beside
her. She cuddled the little girl as if she were a teddy bear. “I promise I
won’t submit you to this for very much longer. This is not the way that any
child should be raised, least of all you.”
Her mother’s soothing words seemed to
placate Varia, but the girl soon grew restless. “Mama, I learned more every day
when we were stuck in Antarctica, just the two of us. Now I’m surrounded by the
other children in the classroom all the time, but no one teaches me anything.
It’s so boring.”
Aazuria’s eyes opened and she was suddenly
wide awake. “Are there not teachers?”
“They
do nothing. The kids just goof around all day,” Varia explained, “and everyone
hates me, because I just ignore them and spend all day reading.”
“I
was told you would receive a decent education! This upsets me,” Aazuria said,
shaking her head, “more than anything else I’ve heard so far. If the children
of the bridge workers aren’t being properly educated, what does this mean for
the future of Adlivun? It is impossible that my sister knows of this; Elandria
would not have allowed our country to deteriorate this way!”
“You
can change it, can’t you, Mother?”
“Yes,”
Aazuria answered, “but not all at once. I can’t undo ten years of deterioration
in a single breath. First of all, I need to get you out of this place. You need
to be somewhere safe while I stay here and collect more information.”
“You
want to separate us?” Varia asked hesitantly.
“I’m
sure that they still teach the children properly and privately at the palace. I
know that Brynne has a young daughter, and Princess Yamako of the Ningyo people
has a small son. I do not know their names or ages, but I am positive that
there is some kind of special school for Adlivun’s elite, probably run by my
sister.”
Varia swallowed. “Mother, please. I’ve
never been separated from you for more than sixteen hours. Today was the
longest ever. Why can’t we both go to live in the palace? You won’t have to
work long hours and get abused by the soldiers, and it will be better for both
of us.”
“Darling,
we mustn’t only be concerned about ourselves. It is very easy to seek our own
comfort, but we have the power to make things better for everyone else as
well.”
“Why
should they be our responsibility?” Varia asked with a frown.
“Because
a crown was placed on my head and I promised to devote my life to this
country,” Aazuria explained.
“But
they abandoned you in the South-lands when you were kidnapped!”
“Just
because someone abandons you, does not mean you have the right to abandon
them,” Aazuria said softly, staring into Varia’s different-colored eyes in the
dark. One iris was deepest azure blue, like her own, while the other was
Ramaris green, like her father’s. Aazuria’s mind drifted to the image of
Trevain’s face, her thoughts lingering on the sound of his voice as she
remained silent for several seconds. When she realized her lapse, she cleared
her throat brusquely to chase the debilitating emotions away. “At any rate, I
am sure they didn’t abandon me. They searched as much as they could, and no one
could have known I was being held prisoner in Lake Vostok. We cannot blame
them—you must not resent your father for what he has done.”
“He
betrayed you,” Varia said doubtfully. “Why should you suffer more while he
lives in the big ice palace? It’s not fair.”
Aazuria kissed her daughter’s forehead
gently. “Varia, I could swim back into the castle at any time and reclaim my
throne. I would be accepted with open arms and plenty of apologies and tears.
Believe me—I want to do this so badly it feels like my chest is going to
burst.” She paused, looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “But that would be
the easiest thing to do. In most cases, drifting along with warm gentle
currents is not the worthiest course of action; more can be gained by fighting
our way upstream.”
Varia nodded solemnly.
“Our
anonymity is our greatest asset,” Aazuria said firmly. “We must take advantage
of it while it lasts.”
“Anon…
nymity,” Varia repeated, stumbling over the syllables.
“Yes,
dear.”
Varia remained very still in the dark
cabin, listening to the sound of her mother’s breathing. She could always sense
what her mother was feeling by determining the intervals between and velocity
of each gust expelled from her lungs. “Is there another reason we are hiding
here?” Varia asked softly. “Why does it seem to me that you are afraid,
Mother?”
Aazuria pulled away slightly to regard her
eight-year-old with surprise. “You are a very bright girl, Varia. Be careful
with that brain of yours or you will get yourself into trouble.”
“Now
you’re avoiding the question!” Varia said with a laugh. “Are you scared to go
back to the palace, Mother?”
“Yes,”
Aazuria answered truthfully. “I would rather face a hundred-thousand of
Zalcan’s warriors on the field, or sea as it may be, of battle, than see my
husband or my sister again.”
“Because
it will hurt them?” Varia asked.
“It
will ruin their lives,” she responded. “I love them both, and I do not want to
cause them pain.”
“But
he was your husband first! I don’t understand,” Varia said in frustration. “I
just never understand anything lately.”
“You
will, dearest.” Aazuria squeezed her daughter’s hand reassuringly, before
turning to face the door. She was lying on the bed so that her body was between
Varia’s and the doorway—a defensive habit she had picked up during previous
captivity. She closed her eyes and gave light slumber the permission to
overcome her, but it was interrupted by the little ball of energy behind her.
Aazuria could feel her daughter’s lively curiosity buzzing in the room like a
swarm of fireflies. Although she was exhausted, she could hardly sleep in the
presence of such thirst. Turning back to the girl, she propped herself up onto
her elbow and smiled at her daughter in the dark. “Okay, Varia. What have you
been reading about?”
“I
don’t want to keep you awake,” Varia responded hesitantly. “You’ve been working
so hard.”
Aazuria ignored her protest. “What do you
want to talk about tonight?”
“Well,
I was reading about the history of Adlivun, and some of the information in the
books is different from what you told me before. Did King Kyrosed really
take the throne in the year 1590?”
“No,”
Aazuria responded. “That was when we migrated to the Bering Strait. That was
the founding of the new nation of Adlivun here in the Aleutian Islands, but
long before that, my father ruled over an old kingdom off the coast of Norway.”
“Was
he really as mean as the books say?” Varia asked. “Did he really… die the way
the books say?”
“Yes,”
Aazuria answered quietly. This was not a conversation she was prepared to have
with her daughter; but then, Varia had already witnessed her kill a man once.
She swallowed. “He was meaner than any book can describe—but he was kind to me.
He might have been a good grandfather, if you could have met him.”
“Tell
me more about the Nordic seas!” Varia said, nestling against her mother’s side.
Aazuria smiled and closed her eyes. “Well,
when I was just a little older than you, we were being raided by the French
nation of Ker-ys. It was a dangerous time, and Papa decided that I needed
protection. He chose two fierce, red-haired warriors to be my defenders…”
“A
hundred-thousand men!” Visola shouted as she slammed a brawny warrior into the
ground. She straddled his back and twisted his arm behind him until he screamed
in pain. Grinning up at the scattering of her elite forces, she lifted her
eyebrows to indicate that this was the technique she wanted them to practice.
The soldiers were gathered for training in a waterless cave, deep in the
tunnels of Lower Adlivun. Visola reached up to brush some wayward red wisps
away from her eyes, and continued to lecture them as she shifted her body and
helped the overpowered warrior to his feet. “The Clan of Zalcan commands an
army a hundred-thousand strong. That’s according to recent reports from our men
on the inside. The whole force isn’t stationed at their home base in the
Maldives—they’re divided, oppressing various foreign undersea cities. Some of
the warriors are positioned strategically rather close to us, among the
Rusalka, and even in the ruins of Shiretoko. You there!”
The young man to whom Visola had pointed
straightened and struck his fist to his chest in the traditional Adluvian
salute. “Yes, Gen—General Ramaris?”
She studied his small, wincing features
and heard the Japanese accent in his stuttering voice. He expected her to
assault him; she moved forward, intending to do precisely that, but not in the
way he anticipated. “You were in the city of Shiretoko when the Clan
attacked?” Visola demanded. When the young man nodded, she frowned. “How did
you escape, Takeshi?”
“I—I
ran, General Ramaris,” he said, with downcast eyes. A furious blush transformed
his features.
“Mhm.
So how do you feel about that?” she asked, moving to stand mere inches from the
man’s face, and allowing her hot breath to waft over his reddened skin. Visola
towered over the small warrior at six feet tall, her voluminous red hair adding
several extra inches of unnecessary menace.
“Pathetic,”
Takeshi answered weakly. “It was the ultimate dishonor, General Ramaris. They
took my family along with most of the Ningyo people, but I didn’t fight. I left
my mother and my sisters and swam for the mainland to save my own skin. I swam,
I ran, and I swam some more until I was safe.”
Visola turned to the other fighters in the
room, observing their faces for the slightest hint of humor or mockery. None of
the other men dared to laugh. This pleased the general, for she would have
harshly disciplined anyone who sought to make fun of a war refugee. “This time
we won’t run,” she said in a low tone. “Those brutes killed my best friend, and
I will never let that go. There never was, and never will be anyone like
Aazuria Vellamo.” Remaining quiet for a moment, Visola’s red eyelashes lowered
in fond memory of the former queen. She gave the Adluvian salute across her
chest, and every warrior in the room followed suit, honoring the lost heroine.
“General
Ramaris,” said an older soldier with a Caribbean accent. “Do you really believe
that our protection from the Americans will soon be dissolved?”
“I
can’t say for certain, Marsden,” she answered, “but we need to be prepared for
every eventuality. Queen Amabie of the Ningyo has been training another secret
faction of warriors, and we will soon test your skills against theirs. You boys
had better not disappoint me—I’m betting money on you.”
“Clan
Zalcan destroyed my country too,” he told her. “Bimini Empire was my
birthplace, a glorious nation, but now all that remains is ghostly ruins and
ridiculous rumors about the Bermuda Triangle. Like Takeshi here, I also ran. I
ran and I lived. Since then I have called Adlivun home, learning to love a new
country for over sixty years. I will never run again. No more running.”
Many of the warriors around him echoed
these sentiments in a chorus, glancing at each other to strengthen their
neighbor with their sense of communal resolve.
“My
wife was killed by the Clan of Zalcan,” said a large man with a buzz cut and
prominent patriotic tattoo on his neck. “I have been raising our young son on
my own since that day. My first chance to fight those sons of bitches, and I am
really gonna let loose.”
Visola smiled sadly. “You and me both,
Bain. We have all lost someone by now. We all have a reason to fight—that’s why
you were chosen. Not only because we saw the most potential in you, but because
you’ll fight with the most heart.”
“I
will, General Ramaris,” Bain said, giving the traditional salute and bowing
from the waist. “Just teach me, and I will do whatever you command. We all
will.”
Visola nodded ardently, narrowing her
eyes. “I won’t let this nation fall,” she declared with determination. “If we
do lose the American submarines for any reason, we will be all that stands
between Adlivun and a watery grave. And we will stand.”
“All
twelve of you?” was the dubious query that echoed from the cave entrance.
Visola’s head whipped around to behold the
source of the familiar voice. She surveyed the muscular man with a small black
ponytail, and released a deep sigh. “Honey, I told you not to bother me when
I’m training the Ducklings.”
“Where
are the rest of them?” Vachlan asked. “Your flock seems smaller today.”
She waved a hand, armored in a dark green
gauntlet. “Most of the men were forced to work overtime on the bridge again.”
“That’s
happening more and more often,” Vachlan commented. “Trevain and Elandria should
really do something about all these treaty violations. But more importantly,
darling, you really need to stop calling your elite military squadron the
‘Ducklings.’ Allow these poor men to preserve a modicum of their self-respect.”
“They
were handpicked to receive private training sessions from me,” Visola
boasted, sticking her chin out arrogantly, “and we intend to fight for Adlivun.
That provides all the pride we need.”
“Really?”
Vachlan said, turning to the warriors. “Are you lads comfortable with this
arrangement?”
“General
Ramaris can call us anything she wants, sir,” Marsden responded promptly.
Vachlan squinted, lifting a hand to rub
the back of his robust neck. “Dear wife, I believe these young combatants would
fight better if you gave them a less shameful name. Queen Amabie is calling her
unit the ‘Water Dragons.’ That sounds far more intimidating to me.”
“For
Sedna’s sake!” Visola shouted, tilting her head back to look at the cave
ceiling for validation. “We’re a secret army, not a sports team! It’s a
codename, dear husband—we’re not permitted to organize, and I believe
that the more harmless we sound, the less harmless we’ll actually be.”
“Interesting
notion,” Vachlan said. He fished into the waterproof rucksack he carried with
him and lifted out a slender laptop. “Viso, I really need your opinion on my
latest screenplay. It’s a romantic comedy set in New York, but with a twist…”
“Let
me guess: no action, again? Cheesecake, how many years has it been since
you wrote about someone getting even a beer bottle smashed over their head?”
She emitted a large, exaggerated yawn. “I think maybe you should train
with my Ducklings, Vachlan. It looks like sitting on your ass and writing all
day is making you a bit soft around the midsection.”
“What!”
Vachlan shouted, reaching down to feel his washboard abs. When all the warriors
in the room snickered at his reaction, he glared at her. “You will pay for
this, woman! Tonight you can tell me again just which sections of me have
gotten soft.”
When the men around her burst into
laughter, Visola could not resist a grin. “How about I tell you which parts
have gotten black and blue?” She cricked her neck to either side before
smirking and lifting her hand to point at her husband. “Get him, boys.”
“Oh,
great,” Vachlan said as the twelve warriors moved forward slowly to surround
him. “I’m really not in the mood for this, gentlemen. But if any of you are
interested in reviewing this charming script—”
Marsden was the first to dive at Vachlan,
and the dark-haired warrior deftly slipped his laptop under his arm before
using one hand to defend against blows, and delivering a swift kick to the
man’s chest. The warrior from Bimini was sent tumbling back into another
soldier, and they both stumbled to the cave floor, scrambling to get up.
“—and
perhaps proofreading for errors or typos—”
This time Vachlan was interrupted by two
men attacking him from either side, and he lowered himself to the ground to
sweep their legs out from under them as if breakdancing. He pivoted on the palm
of his hand, still clutching his laptop protectively under the other arm.
“—that
would be of great assistance,” Vachlan finished. “I want to email this off to
the studio in the morning.” When Takeshi rushed at him suddenly, Vachlan moved
inside his attacker’s strike and used the boy’s own momentum to drive his
knuckles into his face. Another man dashed at him from the side, and Vachlan
dropped to his knee, grabbing the man with one hand and twisting to toss him
into another oncoming opponent.
“Hold
this for a second, would you please?” Vachlan asked, handing the wounded
Takeshi his laptop. He swiveled and moved so rapidly that Takeshi could hardly
keep up with the motions as he tried to process the battle in his mind. Before
he could understand what was happening, several of his comrades were
unconscious or writhing on the ground, and Vachlan was already retrieving the
laptop. “Thanks, kid. Now, Visola Ramaris, what in the vast oceans are you
teaching these men!”
She sighed. “They’re just children,
Vachlan. Some of them are only about a hundred years old. Lots of strength and
energy, but very little experience.”
Vachlan tossed his laptop down onto the
body of an unconscious warrior before lifting his hands to arrange the three
stray hairs that had escaped his ponytail. Rubbing his temples, he looked
around, studying the lifeless forms of the men piled up on top of each other in
the few yards around him. He had not moved an inch from where he had originally
been standing. “Looks like I raped the Ducklings yet again,” Vachlan observed
in disappointment.
“This
isn’t the only team,” Visola said, in a tone that was suddenly tired. “We can’t
make it obvious that we’re still running military operations, so we have to be
discreet and use fresh blood. We rotate the groups frequently too. In addition
to Amabie’s squadron, Major Mardöll is training a regiment, and so is
Lieutenant Namaka, Geira, Holma, Naclana…”
“On
the bright side, at least I had to put my laptop down to defeat those twelve
men!” Vachlan noted. “If I can’t do it single-handedly anymore, then I would
have to say that they’re improving. By a large margin, and quite quickly. Give
these ducklings another few months under you, General Ramaris, and maybe
they’ll be able to take me down. They’ll never be able to keep me down
for a complete second, but you know—it’s an improvement.”
Visola moved forward, stepping over the
unconscious bodies of her warriors. “You should help out more often. These poor
boys have learned so much from you beating the crap out of them today!”
“I
did help when I suggested we reveal ourselves and get military protection from
the Americans,” he reminded her. “That’s working out well, isn’t it? The Clan
doesn’t even bother trying to attack Adlivun anymore.”
“But
you adore fighting. You used to be all about the backup plans,” Visola said
softly, putting her hands on his chest. “Just consider it, love. It’s a really
rewarding career—transforming helpless ducklings into vicious predators.”
“Ah,
Viso.” Vachlan slipped his arms around his wife’s waist and tugged her close to
plant a kiss on her nose. “For centuries they called me the Destroyer. But
those days are behind me! I no longer relentlessly pursue ancient vendettas and
amass sickening fortunes of sunken gold doubloons. I no longer squash nations
just because I can—and have nothing better to do. I’m a family man! I have a
loving wife and two foolish grandsons in need of my guidance.”
“Yes,”
Visola said, cringing as she stared up into his grey eyes, “but you also write
romantic comedies.”
“Don’t
knock them!” Vachlan warned, releasing her waist to waggle a finger. “I’m a
very versatile writer, and even Shakespeare diversified his portfolio. People
don’t want war and heartache all the time…”
“Sedna
spare me,” Visola groaned, throwing her hands up in the air and backing away.
She stopped when her feet banged into the skull of one of her soldiers. She
began to pace in the few inches of room between Vachlan and her unconscious
students. “Did you ever consider that maybe the reason I can’t get pregnant
again isn’t because I’m nearly 570 years old? ‘Cause I’m thinking it’s
your limp, ineffective sperm. Those little guys used to be so virile, but now
they’re wearing petticoats, floating around in your maple-syrup semen, and
having fucking tea parties!”
Vachlan recoiled as if wounded. He
gestured wildly to the men lying on the ground around them. “Bloody hell,
Visola! I just knocked a dozen of your ‘elite’ warriors unconscious
almost-single-handedly. If that isn’t manly enough for you, then I don’t know how
to give you what you need anymore!”
“I
could have done that twice as fast,” she told him, unimpressed. She crossed her
arms and cocked her head to the side. “When I first met you, you bragged
to me that you had balls the size of coconuts. Now that you spend all of your
spare time writing sappy mush, I swear they’ve shrunken down to the size of
walnuts… maybe jelly beans.”
“You
infuriating—!” Vachlan snarled and leapt forward, delivering a side-kick to
Visola’s knee and tackling his wife to the ground. They ignored the messy
sprawl of bruised, sweaty bodies beneath them as they began to wrestle brutally
for several minutes.
Visola
laughed loudly as he began to pin and lock her arms, allowing him to feel
victorious for a second as she smirked up at him. In one swift motion she
brought her leg up, using her flexibility to slam her foot into his ear before
prying her legs under his elbows and kicking him off her. She followed, by
climbing on top of him, pressing her elbow against his throat and clenching her
thighs around his knees. “I miss playing with you,” Visola said mournfully as
she choked husband amidst the chaotic pile of bodies. “This is nice. We should
do this more often.”
“Just
keep insulting my sperm,” Vachlan said as he twisted out from under her elbow.
He grappled with her until she was facedown on top of a warrior’s stomach.
“There is nothing wrong with my sperm! Maybe if you stopped fighting long
enough for a pound of fat to accumulate on your body, your uterus would
remember that you’re a woman and it would start working again!”
“That’s
a low blow!” Visola gasped with a giggle, pushing the limp warrior out from
under her torso. Her face was immediately gnashed into the dirt, and she
sputtered and blinked it out of her eyes. Rotating her upper body and curling
her abdomen for leverage, she used an arm to grab Vachlan’s neck. “Well,
vanilla popsicle, maybe once your sperm stop wearing dresses, my uterus will
stop wearing the pants!”
Visola squealed when Vachlan grabbed a
handful of her hair and yanked it back forcefully. Using her moment of
surprise, he seized her ribcage and rose to his feet, easily tossing the
giantess over his shoulder. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he told the subdued men as
he stepped over them. “I will need to take the liberty of dismissing class for
the night. A pressing necessity has arisen to demonstrate to my wife exactly
why she should continue to respect me.”
Coughing out some sand that had found its
way into her mouth, Visola smirked, loving that there was still someone who
could wipe the floor with her face. “You jerk!” she whispered loudly. “Don’t
undermine my authority in front of my men!”
The ex-conqueror rolled his eyes as he
stooped to pick up his laptop with one hand and used it to spank her on the
bottom. Visola yelped and struggled to free herself from his grip, but he held
her fast over his shoulder. “Don’t say another word, Viso, or I will undermine you
in front of your men.”
As Vachlan navigated over the carpet of
fallen men on his way to the door, the sounds of cracking ribs were heard as
Visola repeatedly pummeled her elbow into her husband’s back. The playwright
continued to walk at a comfortable pace, making casual conversation with the
woman whose thighs he had clenched under his bicep. When they were gone, the
beaten warriors stared after them weakly.
“I’ll
never understand their relationship,” said Takeshi, shaking his head in
confusion.
“It’s
easy,” said Marsden. “He’s the only man alive who can kick her ass, and she
loves it.”
“That’s
a good point. So remind me—why did we attack him again?” Bain inquired as he
nursed a dislocated shoulder. He grunted as he snapped it back into place.
“This hurts like a bitch and I have to go to work on the bridge at 5 AM.”
“Because
she told us to,” answered Marsden, “and I’m much more terrified of Visola than
her husband—she’s the one who gets to beat on us every waking minute that we’re
away from that bridge.”
“Fuck
the bridge,” said another man, spitting out a clump of blood. “We’re warriors,
not construction workers! Vachlan Suchos is a brilliant military
strategist, not a romance writer!”
Takeshi looked around nervously. “I heard
that he joined up with enemy forces for the past century. Only a few years ago,
he was helping the Clan of Zalcan to plot against Adlivun! How can she trust
him?”
“It’s
okay, boy. The righteous Queen Aazuria, Sedna rest her soul, forgave Vachlan
and welcomed him back to this country,” Marsden explained. “Once that woman
died, this whole nation went downhill under her harlot sister Elandria.”
“It’s
not Queen Elandria’s fault! It’s that man. He extinguished Bimini,” said
another warrior, grimacing from where he lay on the ground. “Vachlan is known
as the Destroyer of Kingdoms. It is dangerous to have him within the walls of
Adlivun—but it is a hundred times worse to have him in bed with the enemy. We
can’t afford an adversary of his caliber.”
“I
wonder if Visola really loves him, or if she just pretends she does to keep him
close?” Bain mused. He tapped his relocated shoulder thoughtfully. “That would
be the ultimate strategic maneuver.”
“She
loves him,” said a man named Evian. “He was the only man she ever married, and
trust me, a woman like that receives thousands of proposals.”
“But
he has betrayed every country he ever belonged to,” Takeshi said. “I heard it
was an old combat master in Bimini who trained him. Then he used Bimini’s
soldiers to conquer Ker-ys—his own birthplace.”
“Yes,”
said Marsden. “That’s right. He used Adlivun’s soldiers to conquer the Yawkyawk
in Australia, and he absorbed several South American undersea settlements, all
within a decade. Then he turned his back on Bimini and Adlivun, and
joined with the Clan of Zalcan to destroy the original home of the Japanese
mermaids in the 1950s.”
“But
have you seen his romantic comedies?” Evian asked. “They’re not so great.”
“They
kind of suck. I agree with Visola there—you would think they were written by a
thirteen year old virginal schoolgirl.”
The men started guffawing when Bain began to
protest, “Hey! That’s not true. They’re not so bad. I enjoy watching those
films—they show the raw, vulnerable soul underneath the harsh exterior of the
warrior.”
“Oh,
Sedna, please.”
Marsden grinned. “Here’s something we can
all agree on, men. As long as Visola has a vagina, Vachlan is a harmless
kitten.”
“Harmless?”
asked the young Takeshi in shock. He gestured around at all the warriors, none
of whom were standing, before pointing at his own bloody nose. “This is what
you call harmless?”
