Rising Read online

  “That’s not how I see it. You’ve interfered with my capture…”

  “Your illegal capture,” Xanthus interrupted.

  “That’s up for debate. Even now the counsel is arguing on whether they should allow us to kill all humans who venture into the sea.”

  “That’s insanity,” Xanthus said.

  “No. Insanity is letting the humans poison us as we die one by one, settlement after settlement.” Gael clenched his fists so tight, his knuckles shone white. His chest heaved and his face burned red. “I’m through arguing with you. If you’ve chosen not to side with your fellow Dagonians, then you’ve chosen to side with the humans. And you deserve to die.”

  “You’d kill your own brother?” Kyros asked.

  Gael snapped his head in Kyros’s direction. “If he’s aligned himself with the humans, he’s no brother to me.”

  “I’ve not sided with the humans,” Xanthus said. “I’ve sided against you.”

  “Same thing,” Gael answered. He turned to his men. “Kill them. Leave their bodies for the sharks.”

  Kyros moved in next to Xanthus, ready to fight. At twenty-six against two, the odds weren’t good. He and Kyros were infinitely more skilled than any one of Gael’s men. But coming at them all at once? They might have a problem on their hands.

  The sea began to spin and stir around them, forming a whirlpool. Gael’s men backed away, shouting in confusion. A loud clap, like the snapping jaws of a giant shark, pulsed through the water. Then light flashed.

  A man stood before them on the dry sea floor in a column of air. The water rotated around him like a funnel. The man was well muscled, his eyes piercing, and his body glowed with unspeakable power. The winged sandals were a dead giveaway to his identity. This was Hermes, messenger of the gods. And the god’s eyes fell on Xanthus.

  “Xanthus Dimitriou?”

  “Yes,” Xanthus answered.

  “I have a message for you.” Hermes eyed the soldiers. He then looked back to Xanthus, smirked, and shook his head. “You are to report immediately to Triton’s palace.”

  Hermes didn’t wait around for Xanthus’s answer, but disappeared in a flash of light as the sea slapped back together with a deafening crack.

  Xanthus didn’t move—stunned by what just happened. True, he had petitioned Triton. But he never truly expected an answer. Triton hadn’t spoken to a Dagonian since they’d slaughtered the last of his merchildren two thousand years ago. Still, as newly appointed Guardian of the Sea, Triton should be informed of a gathering threat of war.

  Fear fluttered in Xanthus’s chest when he wondered if his brother was right. Would this meeting mean his death?

  Xanthus looked back to the soldiers who, just a moment ago, were ready to massacre them. They looked just as astonished as he felt. When Xanthus and Kyros moved forward, the soldiers didn’t utter a word of protest, but cast their eyes down and parted. One threat of death averted, on to another.

  When they were a fair distance away, Kyros spoke. “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

  “I didn’t think it worth telling.”

  “You summoned a god and didn’t think it worth telling your best friend?”

  “I didn’t summon him, I petitioned him. There’s a difference.”

  “Not much difference. Summoning Triton would have gotten you killed immediately. Petitioning him will buy you another hour or so before he strikes you down.”

  “He won’t strike me down.”

  “Oh really. And why not?”

  “Because my cause is just.”

  A short, hard laugh burst from Kyros just before a scowl settled on his face and he shook his head. “You may be older than me, but those years didn’t do much to add to your wisdom.”

  “I’m not ignorant of Triton’s hatred toward us, but he’s also honorable. His position demands he listen to me. I’m going to offer to appeal to the humans. They must be reasoned with. They must stop their attack on our seas. It’s the only way to save them.”

  “So you want to save the humans?” Kyros asked. “Even after they polluted our seas and killed over three thousand Dagonians?”

  “It’s not only the humans I’m worried about. A war won’t solve anything. There are six billion people living on the surface. Our numbers aren’t even close to matching that. “

  “Perhaps. But physically, we have the advantage.” Kyros flexed his impressive muscles.

  “True, but how many of us will die? Thousands? Millions? They’ve already killed three thousand of us, and they didn’t even know they’d done it.”

  “Well, you do what you need to do to stop this war. I, for one, will be spending more time at the training fields. Still, if you can convince Triton to join your side, anything’s possible. Just be careful. Gods are rarely reasonable and quick to strike.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Xanthus said.

  Kyros turned and opened his mouth to argue. Instead, he pursed his lips together and gave a quick nod.

  The Castle of Triton rose in the distance—a colossal fortress with many tall turrets, arched buttresses, and massive windows. Hundreds of sharks circled above and around the castle, guarding their master inside.

  As Xanthus neared, five of the larger sharks broke rank and charged toward him. Their gaping mouths sneered, ridged with sharp, dagger-like teeth. Xanthus’s steel muscles clenched, prepared for battle.

  The sharks stopped just out of striking distance, effectively blocking his approach to the castle. Their eyes pierced him, oozing a deep and loathing hatred. The most frightening shark hovered in the middle, flanked by the others. Half his face was missing. The horrific injury had healed, leaving pink and grey flesh knitted together, knarled and misshapen. How could he have survived such a severe injury?

  A thundering concussion pounded through the water. The rumbling sound formed words. “Let the Dagonian pass.” A shudder went through Xanthus at that menacing voice.

  The sharks hesitated a moment before parting. Still, they continued to glare at him. Xanthus readied himself to respond in case any of the guards decided to attack. An assault would be unlikely; given it must have been Triton who had ordered them to back off. But with so much anger and vicious hatred directed at him, Xanthus held his defensive posture as he approached the castle.

  A massive, grey leviathan clung to the side of the building. His mountainous bulk and countless tentacles snaked over the surface. Xanthus searched for the castle door. He circled the entire building but still couldn’t see any sign of an entrance. Finally, he puzzled it out. The leviathan had to be covering it. He scowled at that realization. Surely, he wasn’t expected to fight the thing. The creature might look soft, but inside that gelatinous body lurked a razor-sharp beak so large and powerful it could snap him in two. Xanthus might be able to slice off a tentacle or two during the fight, but in the end he’d still be dead and the injured leviathan’s tentacles would grow back in a matter of months.

  The monster’s great eyes fixed on him as he moved toward the creature. When Xanthus swam close enough to touch him, the tentacles slithered back, revealing a gigantic door. One thick tentacle pushed the door open, generating a low, thundering rumble. Xanthus focused on the door as he tried to ignore the monstrous, fleshy archway he passed under.

  Darkness enveloped him as he swam into an immense hall. A kaleidoscope of faintly luminescent stone framed great tapestries along the walls. He swam above an intricate mosaic map of all the oceans and seas. It covered the entire floor of the vast room. Near the back of the hall, high branches of black coral cradled an enormous throne. His eyes widened at what looked like fire-lit torches—something he’d seen pictured in a book of human lore.

  Double doors slammed open at the back. A figure entered wearing a hard, stony glare. Firelight glinted across roped muscles and a mighty tail. His blond hair and trimmed beard swaying in the water did nothing to soften his scowl.

  There was no doubt that King Triton had entered the room.

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nbsp; Xanthus’s eyes widened in shock. Triton looked like a Dagonian.

  “Xanthus Dimitriou?” Triton’s deep voice rumbled.

  “I’m at your command, Sire.” Xanthus bowed before he neared the throne, careful to maintain a respectful distance.

  “Before I give you any command, you will answer me this one question. Are you courageous or stupid?” The god’s furious blue eyes reflected the fire of the torches. Xanthus felt as if he were staring into the burning pit of Tartarus. His first impression couldn’t have been more wrong. Triton was nothing like a Dagonian. With the tail of a tiger shark, fiery eyes as blue as the sea, and the temperament of a raging typhoon, Triton’s presence oozed powerful, menacing god.

  Still, Xanthus answered without hesitation. “I am courageous, Majesty.”

  “Do you not know the hatred I bear toward you Dagonians? You slaughtered my children, my grandchildren—all my beloved merchildren!” Triton’s voice boomed.

  “Yes, Sire. I know.” Xanthus wanted to say that he had not been part of the slaughter and the Dagonians had had no choice but to act on Poseidon’s command but Xanthus felt Triton’s unspoken demand that the Dagonians shoulder the blame for the destruction of his children. Xanthus bowed his head, astonished to see Triton’s rage still fresh and fierce, even after two thousand years.

  Xanthus steadied his breath and forced the fear bubbling inside to melt away. He could not forget his reason for coming. His mission was more important than the life of one Dagonian. And regardless of how fierce Triton acted or the fact he could kill Xanthus with a single glance, Triton was also honorable. Xanthus just needed to appeal to that side of the god and do it before Triton struck him dead.

  “Yet,” Triton continued, “you come to me, your enemy, to request permission to venture among the humans and appeal to their good natures. Not only that, but you expect me to impart some of my own power to make this travel possible?”

  “Yes, Sire,” Xanthus spoke firmly.

  “You expect much, Dagonian.” He paused, eyeing Xanthus. “Answer me this. How many souls have you sent to Hades?”

  Xanthus tensed. What reason did Triton have to ask this question? “Over a hundred Dagonians, Sire, not including the ones I sent to Panthon prison and have since died there.”

  “And the humans?”

  “Twenty-six… No wait, after today, twenty-seven.”

  Triton narrowed his eyes. “Do you think to redeem your soul from Tartarus by this journey?”

  “No, Sire, I have nothing to redeem myself from. Those I sent to Hades were predators preying on the innocent. And the humans were… necessary.”

  Triton pondered in silence for several long moments. “So now you want to save them both—Dagonians and humankind alike. Do you truly think one man can make a difference? You think you can convince the entire human race to stop poisoning our seas?”

  “I think it’s worth trying, Majesty,” Xanthus answered, his voice ringing with conviction.

  Triton narrowed his eyes as he studied Xanthus. The god’s scowl loosened slightly. “You’re nothing like your father.” Triton let that statement settle for a moment before he spoke again. “You remind me of Elsia.”

  Xanthus’s brows furrowed. Who was Elsia?

  “You were never told about her, were you?” Triton sighed, his eyes saddened by the burden of old memories. “Elsia was my daughter, twenty-seventh child born to me three-thousand four-hundred and fifty-seven years ago. She was unique among my children—sweet, loving, and very strong willed. She decided to show all the Mer that the Dagonians were good, loving beings at heart. My daughter was a foolish mermaid. She even married a Dagonian and had a daughter named Xanthippe.”

  Xanthus’s eyes widened. “My grandmother?”

  Triton nodded. “Merblood flows strong in your veins.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I can feel it.”

  Triton took a deep breath, straightened his spine, and spoke the next words with authority. “I’ll grant you your request—under one condition. First, you’ll travel to the surface and find the human criminals responsible for poisoning the Dagonian South Pacific settlements of Calysos and Thebora. The city of Honolulu, Hawaii seems to be either the origin or place of transfer for the poisons. When you find the guilty humans, you will stop them from further dumping their poisons. Then you will send the guilty to me—alive if possible.”

  “Yes, of course, Sire.”

  “If you are successful, I will allow you one more year to do as you will. Convince the humans, if you can. But I wish to emphasize two very important rules you must understand and always abide by. First, do not let the humans discover what you are. If they do, you must see that they cannot betray our secret to others. Second, do not meddle in their lives unless their actions affect you or the creatures of the sea directly. Otherwise, leave them to their fate.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “I give you a month to prepare.” Triton said. “It’s a short time for such a task, and you have much to do before you’re ready to walk among the humans. Study them, prepare your affairs, and make necessary arrangements. I will do what I can to help. You will return here in one week and stay to train for the remainder of your time. But before you leave today, I have a gift for you.” Triton rose. “Come closer.”

  Xanthus approached the god with trepidation. Being this close to so much power intimidated and overwhelmed him. Triton laid his heavy hands on Xanthus’s head. Xanthus felt heat building under the god’s palms until white-hot waves of pain washed from his head down to the end of his tail. He nearly jerked away, but held still and absorbed the searing pain in agony. It lasted only a minute and then, to his relief, the pain faded. Despite the incredible agony he’d endured only a moment before, Xanthus felt strong and alert.

  Triton removed his hands. “There. Now you have the power you’ll need.”

  Xanthus wondered—confused at what power he’d been given. Regretfully, Triton didn’t feel compelled to enlighten him.

  Xanthus bowed. “Yes, Sire, thank you. And I will honor all your wishes, Majesty.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Now go and prepare. I’ll send for you in a week’s time.”

  Xanthus bowed again and left.

  As Xanthus put distance between himself and the castle, he felt as if a weight were being lifted off his shoulders. The cool current washed away the stifling sorrow. Triton was one seriously tormented god.

  Xanthus wondered what further training he would need in order to prepare for this assignment. After all, he’d been preparing for this his whole life. He’d read every human book he could get his hands on, interviewed countless humans at Panthon prison, even volunteered on every human capture that came his way. The only other Dagonian that had as much experience with humans was his brother, Gael.

  Gael wanted to destroy them. Xanthus wanted the Dagonians and humans to respect each other’s right to exist peacefully. His job seemed impossible, given that he had to convince the humans to stop polluting the seas without revealing the existence of the Dagonians. But then, things of great importance never come easy.

  Xanthus spotted Kyros just outside the castle perimeter.

  Kyros rushed forward. Laughing, he slapped Xanthus on the back. “You made it out alive.”

  “Barely.”

  “So you’re going to live with the humans?”

  “For at least a year. I leave in a month’s time.”

  Kyros shook his head in disbelief. “I’ve never understood your fascination with them. They are horrible, disgusting creatures.”

  “What you know about humans comes from Nereid tales, not facts.”

  “Well, you do what you need to do.” Kyros scratched behind his ear. “I’m just glad it’s not me having to live with them. I don’t think I could stomach it.”

  “They’re really not so bad. I shouldn’t have much trouble as long as I can blend in. My biggest problem may be my size. Triton might be able to give me legs, but Dagonians are larger than humans.”


  “And you’re larger than the average Dagonian,” Kyros said.

  “Right.” Xanthus nodded. “I also need to consider human male fashion. From what I’ve learned, the clothing they wear indicates status.”

  “Their males have fashion? That’s ridiculous. Covering the body is for females, although I think that it would be better if our females didn’t cover themselves. I’d have an even greater appreciation for the dance of the Dagonian maidens.”

  Xanthus laughed.

  “Speaking of maidens…” Kyros swished to a stop. “Mmm. Nothing smells better than a fertile female.” His eyes glazed over as a smile pursed his lips.

  Xanthus shook his head as his friend drifted toward a modest stone home. Two large warriors positioned themselves at the entrance in order to discourage unwelcome suitors.

  “Too bad females are only fertile once a year.” Kyros breathed in the alluring smell.

  Xanthus never understood how males could lose their minds around a female at her time. He’d guarded more females than he could count and he’d never had a problem resisting. Not that it didn’t affect him, but his control remained firmly in place at all times.

  Kyros continued to drift toward the enticing scent. Xanthus put out his hand to stop him. “If you want to keep your male parts, I wouldn’t move any closer.”

  Kyros jerked, shocked out of his stupor. The guards stared him down. “Sorry fellows,” he mumbled. “I was just uh… you know, passing by.”

  Xanthus and Kyros remained silent until they were out of earshot of the guards. “You’ve got to learn to control your hormones,” Xanthus said. “Those warriors were more tolerant than I would have been. I’d have had my blade at your throat in a heartbeat.”

  “Yeah, well, you see. That’s how we’re different. I’m a lover, you’re a fighter.”

  “You’re a soldier, but you’ll end up a eunuch if you can’t control yourself.”

  “I’m a soldier by trade, a lover by heart.” Kyros pressed his hand to his heart and gave a sigh. Xanthus smiled and shook his head. His friend obviously still felt the effects of the pheromones. Xanthus knew Kyros would be appalled by his behavior later.