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  “It seems Zeus was channeling the same ancestors as Mestor because he challenged a fabled V’Saar Hunter with only a sword and no battlemech exoskeleton. Your father said Sohm’lan cursed for ten minutes straight when giving his report. Zeus killed the beast with a single blow and came away untouched.”

  Azaes made a whistling hiss. “Zeus really scared Sohm’lan.”

  Mestor wondered if someone could get a vid of the fight. He would love to see how his brother proved all the Academy naysayers wrong. His stirring pride was snuffed out when the fog thickened, and he went back to sleep.

  Sohm’lan

  * * *

  Sohm’lan stood barefoot on the wet sand, the water reaching out to lap at his feet before retreating, only to return seconds later. He desperately wanted to go for a swim. After the soldiers’ and Monticore’s current shift ended, those off-duty went to meet the People of the Longing, spending a couple of hours offshore before returning for late-meal and to bunk down for the night.

  He would go for his own swim soon, but he waited for word from the Monticore who followed the stranger. Someone had snuck into camp and approached the main pavilion, soliciting treason from the ‘Striker’. This faction looking to unseat House Vondorian had no allies among the soldiers and Monticore travelling with Prince Zeus. Otherwise the traitors would already know Zeus, the very person they loathed, was the Striker they attempted to recruit to their cause. He was somewhat mollified that none who had fought beside him had betrayed his or the emperor’s trust. Sohm’lan suspected he knew who the person orchestrating this subterfuge was, he only needed proof.

  The comm-link adhered to his earhole gave a soft click as the comm was engaged. “Team Mars to Ares.”

  He tapped the activation switch on his collar. “Ares, here. Team leader report.”

  “We were able to scout ahead of the toad and found his single-person transport. We attached a tracking device to the vehicle and his personal effects that were left in the interior. We gained access to the onboard computer and initiated an upload to the technicians on The Gorgon.”

  “Good work, Team Mars. Take cover and see if you cannot capture and record a clean visual for identification. Team Eros is following the subject back to Haven. We need both records for Emperor Valdor.”

  “Copy that, Ares.”

  “Report to me once you return to camp.”

  He listened to the affirmatives before his comm-link clicked off, and he rubbed his tired eyes. He should find his bunk and catch some sleep, but his mind was not ready to shut down. He had been on high alert ever since they had landed on Valespia. Zeus’s warlord abilities had been tested. He did well enough, though his attention had been pulled in too many directions between the soldiers fighting the V’Saar and his brother. Sohm’lan was unsurprised, since Zeus had no training at prioritizing in high-stress situations. It was something he would learn with practice. But there was more than one way for a warlord to serve his emperor, and with Zeus’s expertise, he was just as valuable as someone able to lead an army.

  His stomach flipped like a beached fish, remembering how Zeus had jumped in front of that oversized sack of insect waste. He had believed Zeus would be dead or mortally injured before he could reach him. He was so relieved to see his waterson stand up after being run over that he had wanted to shake Zeus until his teeth rattled. Then hug him so tight that Zeus was stuck to him for the rest of the battle. Sohm’lan would have nightmares about that moment for moons to come. He had never been so relieved as when Zeus then went to help Canry. Tending to his brother kept him away from the battle, negating the possibility that he would throw himself into middle of the insect horde again.

  Heavens above and waters below, Canry was sleeping in the tent behind him. The ache in his chest doubled. He had never thought he would be reunited with his lost waterson, especially so far from home. If he turned and entered the pavilion, Canry would be resting in the capsule of seawater next to Zeus’s sleeping platform.

  With no one to see, Sohm’lan allowed himself to smile at Dargon’s surprise when the sleeping draught he had slipped Zeus took effect. The captain would be angry with him for some time, not that Sohm’lan cared. His waterson had pushed his endurance far beyond what was safe when he took that booster shot. He understood Zeus’s desire to help his people and not delegate the tasks to others. The Monticore and soldiers practically worshipped their youngest prince, his care for them after the battle further cementing their adoration and devotion.

  With the arrival of traitors seeking to commit treason, Zeus would have pushed himself further, possibly doing irreparable harm to himself in the process. The power that usually surrounded Zeus like a thick blanket had been a mere flicker after he sang with Canry. How he pushed himself afterward only dimmed that energy further. Sohm’lan was forced to act for Zeus’s own good.

  Dargon was also livid at how the traitor referred to Zeus as a human monkey. Sohm’lan did not blame him. Fury burned within him, too. He had spent many summers working to change the prejudices of his people. Zeus’s character did as much as Sohm’lan’s personal campaign to challenge such opinions. There was something about the youngest prince, especially when he was a youngling toddling around the palace, that drew people to him. That he was so visible growing up showed people being human did not automatically make them devious and filled with evil intentions. Behaviors were taught, not inherited, and Sohm’lan was proud to see the Mar’Sani’s view of human individuals change as Zeus wormed his way into their hearts. He was pretty sure that even when Zeus’s true bloodlines were revealed, his influence over how people thought about humans would not change. The resemblance between the Fal’Amoric and Terrens was uncanny until one knew what to look for.

  He thought of turning in after he confirmed teams Eros and Mars had returned. But the water called to him and he gave in. He went back to the tent and checked on his watersons before undressing. He folded his clothes and placed them on his cot in the front section. When he exited, the Monticore nodded at him, watching his hands as he signed his intentions.

  Secure in the knowledge that those under his care were well guarded, he strode to the water. Something reached out and brushed against his senses.

  “Sohm.”

  He stiffened and looked around, searching for… a figure moved on the outcropping at the sea’s edge. Yesterday, Shaneva had spoken to him with mind speech.

  As if she plucked his thoughts from his mind, he sensed the brush again. “Waterfather.”

  Warily, he jogged the length of the beach, aware he did not carry a weapon. If he was deceived… but as he drew closer, he made out Shaneva, her red ridge almost glowing in the moon’s light. She sat on the boulder, remaining waist deep in the water and sheltered from the waves.

  Since arguing with that tailless skink, Nethus, he had only glimpsed her briefly. He had meant to speak to Shaneva about Canry’s guardian. He sensed something more going on, beyond what Zeus and the twins had told him when they had returned from the Dream injured. Another thing to be investigated was how she could speak telepathically. Never had she done so before or indicated that she could. Weariness settled into his bones. Secrets meant revelations that would surely be unpleasant. He would rather be well-rested but sometimes one could not control when they learned distasteful news.

  He waded in, meeting her smile with one of his own. She looked as tired as he felt. “Tadpole,” he said fondly, ignoring her harrumph. Irritated with him or not, she leaned into his embrace.

  “Are you well, Waterfather?” She brushed at his scales as if she could scent where a V’Saar had caught his arm in its pincer-like claws, then attempted to rip out his throat.

  Though Zeus had stayed with Canry, safely out of the thick of battle and protected by a wall of Monticore, Sohm’lan had not. When the Feteine had entered the battle, he had chosen six soldiers to help him retrieve the wounded, both Terren and Mar’Sani, off the bloody field. He had placed himself between a defenseless Terren and V’S
aar, and though he had broken both the arms that had touched him, the Feteine who had popped in and tore off its head was welcomed. Luckily, Zeus had been too exhausted to see the wounds. By the time his waterson had received his booster shot, Madux had mended and bandaged the injuries and his guard had retrieved a clean uniform for him. Though the wounds had closed, his muscles were sore.

  “I am well. The wounds were minor.”

  She scowled at him. “You forget I saw the state of your uniform.”

  He grinned wider. “Nevertheless, the wounds are gone now. How are you?” He wanted to ask what had happened. Where had the Terrens gone? What Canry and the People of the Longing had accomplished jogged vague memories, telling him he should know, but he had been unsuccessful at recalling the information. He was that exhausted.

  “We were not harmed,” she soothed. Shaneva placed her hands on his cheeks and stared intently into his eyes. “Tell me, what happened to cause you to quicken?”

  He remained still under her touch, mind racing. Quicken? He suspected he knew what she meant. He had changed on the trip from Atlainticia to Valespia, but he was never one to make assumptions. “How do you mean?”

  “You pulse with immense power that rivals that of Nethus. When I last saw you, when you and my brothers readied to bring Zeus home, you were not as you are now. It is like a beacon to me and those like Nethus.” Her eyes shimmered with strong emotion that he could not read. How she learned to hide her thoughts and emotions so completely… he did not yet want to contemplate. One issue at a time, he counseled himself.

  “I know what you speak of,” he confessed. “I can sense energy coming off Canry, Zeus, Mestor, and that toad, Nethus.” He cocked his head to the side, staring into her sunrise-yellow eyes, the elliptical pupil a wide, vertical slash through the distinct color. “And you, my princess. Yours is like Zeus’s, held close and contained.” She gave him a sad, lopsided smile, but did not interrupt. He told her about her brothers returning injured from the Dream and his offhanded suggestion that the twins took and ran with. She laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing as she leaned against him.

  “It is good to know that the unquickened can heal others. This is something that I can pass on to the People of the Longing,” she said after Sohm’lan went quiet.

  “What is quickening?” He half expected her to pull away at the question. He sensed she had secrets upon secrets that she kept not only from him, but the rest of her family.

  “Quickening is like…” She twisted a thick seaweed leaf between her fingers as she thought. “It is something that all Mar’Sani should experience, but over time they have forgotten who they were, where they came from. I believe our ancestors placed restrictions upon themselves and those born after were never taught the full extent of our potential. So few on the shore quicken like you and Mestor have. And when they do, people like Nethus Qalupalik capture them and bind them.”

  When she paused for more than a heartbeat, he was ready to pepper her with questions, more confused than he was at the beginning of their conversation. But she pushed on, forcing him to hold fast to his rising frustration.

  “What if I told you there are more people in Atlainticia’s oceans than what those on shore are aware of?” She stared at him, gauging his reactions. He was careful to keep his expression neutral. “Why do you think People of the Longing live in citiplexes close to shore and not out in the depths?” she pressed.

  “To be close to their families,” he replied with rising uncertainty.

  “Why do boats not leave the designated fishing lanes?”

  “When one ventures too far off the pathways, it disappears.” Everyone knew that certain waters had predators that could sink boats, both large and small, just by rising to the surface.

  “We search for survivors but shrug our shoulders when we find nothing. We no longer question what hides in deep waters.” Shaneva looked at him as if she expected him to be… what? More curious, more suspicious?

  “The oceans are dangerous. Vessels lost at sea cannot be retrieved. We are the People of the Waters and if we cannot swim home, then we have obviously perished. The Waters of Poseidon have depths unexplored, true enough. We leave the wilderness and the creatures that live there alone. We do not need to disrupt ecosystems with our careless explorations,” he argued. His schooling came back to him as well as the reasons Mar’Sani did not explore the vast waters. They were a conscientious people. The detailed maps they had of the Waters of Poseidon were old but not incorrect.

  “The Waters holds many secrets, Waterfather,” Shaneva pressed. “People, a different civilization, could easily hide in the ocean’s depths. I am not talking about a small pocket of beings. They are many and quite ruthless.”

  He had a hard time wrapping his mind around what she was claiming. Could they share their planet with another people and not know of their existence? But she was correct, the People of the Longing kept to the waters close to the shore. There were monsters, predators living in the depths that individuals could not fight and win. Everyone was taught to respect the water’s wildness. After a moment of consideration, it did not seem so farfetched, especially when the depths had not been recently explored.

  “Why have the People of the Longing said nothing?” They lived in the oceans and would have the most opportunity to encounter other beings.

  “We cannot speak to anyone on shore who has not quickened.” She fingered a spot behind her ear. “We are given geas chips that keep us from revealing the existence of the Numina. The punishment…” She shivered hard in his arms, alarming him. “No one tries, not wanting to reap the consequences. We live under their yoke even though we are not accepted by them.”

  He had the niggling suspicion that Shaneva had been hurt by these mysterious beings. He knew her and her sense of justice. And even if he had not, her constant shivering and her rapid breathing would have told him she knew something of the penalty, either by sight or experience. He would uncover exactly what, but for the present, he comforted his waterdaughter and gave her his full attention.

  “Will you be in trouble for telling me this?” he asked, making plans to take her with them when they left for Haven. He would not allow this people to put their appendages on her, for any reason.

  “You have quickened. I can read your energy, which allows me to speak to you without the geas chip causing me pain or reporting back to the authorities.” She gave a menacing chuckle. “You will need to be careful, though. Nethus did not seem to notice, but he is an expert at subterfuge. Do not be caught alone in the Waters, any Waters. If you are, they will force a geas chip on you. I need you to be free of their ties, so please make sure you always have six to eight Monticore with you. I am deadly serious, Waterfather.”

  When she glanced at him, she reminded him of Ashari, seeming to wholeheartedly welcome the danger her resolve placed her in. She was ready to crush someone, or ones, and he had no doubt she would relish every second.

  She continued, “You are the only one, for the moment at least, that I can take into my confidence. Mestor is not even-tempered like you are. You will need every bit of your legendary iron control to bring down our enemies while protecting Canry and our people. I need you to trust me even though I cannot tell you everything you want to know right now. But I promise, all will be revealed in due time. I can teach you how to rein in your power and how to focus it. I know only a few ways to use it, but what knowledge I have, I give to you freely. I can even teach you to use telepathy and how to protect your mind, and thoughts, from others. Will you trust me in return? Can I count on you?”

  Shaneva

  * * *

  Shaneva held her breath as she waited for his answer. Sohm’lan hated not knowing. Though he would learn all her secrets, eventually, she refused to tell him now and risk a civil war that Atlainticia could ill-afford. She always listened carefully to Canry when his farseeing plagued him. The number of futures he saw was mindboggling and the knowledge he bore witness to tormented h
im. Over the summers, she had become his sounding board, his only true confidant. Diligently, she recorded what he described. His many farseeings revealed one recurring truth: Atlainticia would fall if it succumbed to internal strife. The Galactic Imperials needed them united. With every passing day the Bespoken was not found, the possibility of war with the V’Saar strengthened. Atlainticia was one of the strongest planets under the pact, and if they were diminished in any way, that strength the Galactic Imperials relied upon would be unavailable to them in their time of need.

  She desperately needed his help and his unwavering trust. Sohm’lan searched her face with those luminous blue eyes that said so much about his bloodlines, to those who knew what to look for.

  “I would trust you with my very life, my Princess. Whatever you need I will provide without question,” he said solemnly, clutching his fist over his heart in a salute. “But I disagree with your assessment of Mestor. He can control his temper for as long as you need him to.”

  Tears pricked her eyes at his vow even as she grinned at his stalwart belief in her brother. She had hoped for his help with a desperation she had not realized until the tension fled her, leaving her muscles quivering and her throat tight. If Mestor could be trusted as well, she would have another powerful ally.

  “I thank you, Warlord, Waterfather.” She breathed out then back in, attempting to calm the excitement that rose. “All right, the first thing has already been accomplished. Canry is on land and will soon be reunited with Meme and Father. I know that you cannot be with him every minute of the day, but we need to keep him from Nethus. A large pod must accompany him if he swims in any Waters.”

  Sohm’lan’s gaze was unwavering as he nodded. “We will be leaving for Haven as soon as they send transports,” he confirmed. “Your meme is already at the capital. I will not need to be at his side, for I doubt she will be far from him.”