Cursed Blade (Daughter of Air Book 2)
Cursed Blade
Daughter of Air #2
Jade Kerrion
Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Other Books By Jade Kerrion
Copyright © 2018 by Jade Kerrion
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cursed Blade / Jade Kerrion—1st ed.
Cover Design by Rebecca Frank
Cursed Blade
A cursed dagger. A desperate king. His quest will damn his kingdom, and the entire Earth.
The mer-king has bargained with demons, trading the death of the oceans for his soul. As the seas churn with disease, the marine biologist Varun Zale and the mermaid Ashe battle the mer-king's army across the black tides to the ancient stronghold of Atlantis.
They cannot hold back the mer-king forever, but there might be another way to end his rampage before the demonic bargain is fulfilled. When Ashe's cursed dagger claims a life, it can gift the soul to the king, and the way Ashe looks at Varun makes him wonder if she has identified him as the perfect target.
When the dagger finally strikes, it will rip the shroud of deception. For the mer-king, three centuries is a long time to live with hate, but it's even longer to believe a lie…
Chapter 1
The Levantine Sea no longer tossed and roared like an injured animal, but the seabed far beneath its sapphire blue surface pulsed molten iron and rock-like pus spilling from an open wound.
The capital mer-city of Shulim was no more. It had passed into legend, remembered less for its glittering, unmatched glory than for the fact that it had been devastated by the Dirga Tiamatu, the Beltiamatu weapon that channeled the energy of the Earth’s core.
The water was still scalding hot, but a layer of air protected Ashe as she dove deep to the sea shelf that once concealed the mer-city. She had braced herself for her first view of the ruined city, but she might as well have wasted her time.
There was nothing left.
Melted rock and metal strewn across the seabed, turning it a pockmarked silver color, but there was no sign that an underwater city—the most magnificent on Earth—had ever been there.
Ashe squeezed her eyes shut. The ache in her chest defied words.
She had never truly entertained the idea of returning home, not after she had given up her voice and tail for human legs, but Shulim was the center of power in the ocean. The merfolk—the Beltiamatu—were the Lords of the Ocean, the Lords of the Abyss.
And now, even they were no more. The star-faring race that had preceded the humans on Earth were reduced to scattered survivors. Fortunately, most of the infected Beltiamatu, whose blood was poisoning the ocean, had died in the destruction of Shulim. But their king Zamir had fled, and with him, a handful of merfolk still loyal to him.
Zamir.
The last king of the Beltiamatu.
My son.
Ashe looked at the trident—the symbol of his rule—that she had wrested from him in their final battle. Seared in her mind was the devastation in Zamir’s eyes when she took from him the last thing he possessed.
In how many ways had she hurt her son?
She had lost count.
I loved him. I was supposed to protect him. I screwed up.
And he’s paying the price.
Ashe could hardly swallow through the tightness in her throat. The Beltiamatu paid the price.
A flicker of swift, darting motions caught her eye. She glanced over her shoulder at the sea nymphs hovering in the water, keeping their distance from her. The Nereids were female and small-framed, not much taller than a human child. They were also insatiably curious.
A great deal of nudging among themselves finally compelled one of them to swim forward. “Do you now rule the Beltiamatu?” The Nereid’s voice rippled across the current in the ancient language of the mer-people.
Did she? Ashe stared down at the trident in her hand. It was, after all, the most recognizable symbol of power in the ocean.
She had created the power vacuum.
She wasn’t qualified to fill it even though she had gained a Nereid’s elemental control over water—a Daughter of Air had no place in the ocean—but she would be damned if she let Zamir reclaim it. Son or not, he had plotted to destroy the seas. His plan, had it succeeded, would also have destroyed the land.
And all for what?
A soul?
She could have told him that souls were not worth having. She knew that fact firsthand.
Ashe refocused on the Nereids, and released her thoughts. I rule the Beltiamatu, for now. What’s left of them.
“The diseased ones—are they all gone?”
Most of them. Possibly not all.
“You will get rid of them all, won’t you?” the Nereid asked. Ashe frowned, but the Nereid continued before she could reply. “Our great mother, the ocean, is weak. She cannot endure much more.”
Guilt trampled over Ashe’s heart. I know. The dead spots the infected merfolk had created in the ocean had surpassed the ocean’s ability to heal itself. As long as Zamir and his diseased Beltiamatu were alive, the ocean was at terrible risk. I will stop them.
“Then we are glad you have returned, Daughter of Air, Lady of the Ocean.” The Nereid inclined her head and retreated into the safety of numbers before darting into deep water.
Sighing, Ashe turned toward sunlight, her body undulating effortlessly through the water. She still swam like a mermaid, even though she no longer had a tail.
Technically, she did not even have a body.
She was a Daughter of Air—an air sylph whose purest form was air. Concentrating her astral energies allowed her to return to her once-human form, which was inconvenient since her human form was mute and her legs, which had once been a mermaid’s tail, always hurt.
It was, however, the only way to interact with humans, short of sending a hurricane their way.
I should have made a better trade with the sea witch, Ashe thought, not for the first time. Medea, the ancient sea witch, always seemed to get the upper hand in a deal.
Ashe broke the surface beside the little patch of land forming from the magma pouring out of the earth. The edges were still glowing hot, but the center of the rocky islet—island was too glorious a term for what was scarcely more than a square mile of rock—was already cool.
What Ashe did not expect to see was the svelte, winged figure roosting on the island.
Scowling, she propelled herself out of the water. The winds came at her call, carrying her across the islet, before depositing her in front of the siren.
Ashe tilted her head. Which one are you?
The siren seemed to take no offense at the brusque demand. She appeared human in every way—and not just human, but a stunningly beautiful woman—except that her arms were large black-feathered wings. “I am Thelxepeia.”
Where are your sisters?
“They will join me soon.” Thelxepeia shook back her pale blond hair.
You will leave this place. The humans, curious as always, will be here soon, seeking to understand how land is born.
“All the more reason to be here.”
The human world does not need to know sirens exist.
“They do not need to know myths are real—yet you walk among them, Daughter of Air, Lady of the Ocean.”
My presence is concealed. They believe I am one of them.
“Really?” Thelxepeia asked. She spread her wings to their full ten-foot span, but her natural elegance made the motion seem like a graceful display of beauty instead of the mocking challenge they both knew it was.
For a moment, Ashe contemplated the possibility of ripping off the siren’s feathers, but acknowledged she was just being cranky. Besides, she was the problem, not Thelxepeia. Get out of here.
“You do not command me.”
Ashe shrugged. The sirens—sea-bound creatures with the gift of flight—were notorious for not playing by the rules, but who needed rules when she had power? Ashe flicked her wrist, and a gust of wind wrenched Thelxepeia off her feet, flinging her into the air. The siren screamed in outrage, but even that was a lovely sound, more beautiful than any that had graced a human stage.
Don’t bother coming back, Ashe flung out her thought to the siren. She would have to set up cross winds to make any passage to the islet, by sea or air, too hazardous to take on. There was nothing left of Shulim, but neither was she ready for humans to poke around the devastation of her former home.
About ten miles to the south, the Veritas, the marine research vessel she commanded, anchored in deep water. Ashe swam back to the ship and dove beneath the hull to secure the trident in the underwater compartment that contained the deep diving drones. It was safer there than onboard the ship amid humans.
Then she climbed onto the ship, as always using the corner obscured by the lifeboats. Her clothes remained where she had concealed them. She dressed, sliding her blistered feet into boots, then looked up at the flutter of wings.
Jinn, her gray African parrot and near-constant companion, landed on the rail. He cocked his feathered head. “Welcome back. Welcome back.”
Ashe beckoned, and the parrot crab-walked from Ashe’s wrist to her shoulder. Everything all right while I was away?
“All right. All right,” Jinn answered, or repeated. Ashe was not sure which.
The warm breeze tugged through the long strands of her blue-green hair, drying it more effectively than the hot air contraptions humans used after showers. She walked along the deck of the Veritas toward the bridge, her keen attention sweeping across the ship. The lifeboats were protected beneath tarpaulin covers, and the ropes neatly coiled. Even the life preservers were perfectly aligned, the emblazoned name of the ship always at the twelve o’clock mark. Ashe’s first mate, Henry Jackson, ran a tight ship, which was just as well since Ashe had been distracted by other pressing matters—like keeping the marine biologist, Varun Zale, alive.
She still had a problem to solve—a huge one. If she could convince Varun to sit it out, she could abandon her babysitting duties and actually focus on finding and stopping Zamir permanently.
The murmur of conversation, an occasional burst of laughter, and the coolness of climate-controlled air greeted her when she stepped through the doorway. The mess hall and crew quarters extended the length of the corridor behind her, but she walked toward the bridge instead. The large room, loaded with state-of-the-art navigational equipment and surrounded on all sides by floor-to-ceiling glass windows, provided an expansive view of the ocean and the smoke still rising from the water.
“Captain.” Jackson acknowledged her with a nod of his head. The lean African American man tipped back the edge of his mariner cap, revealing tightly cropped black hair. His thin goatee was perfectly sculptured along the angles of his face, but his smile lightened the otherwise shrewd appearance.
Ashe’s fingers signed her question. Jinn gave it voice. “Everything all right?”
“As all right as can be,” Jackson said, jerking his gaze back out the window. “How often does one get to personally witness a natural disaster?” He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “Good thing it happened in the middle of the sea. Could have been so much worse on land. People could have died.”
Lots of merfolk did. A muscle twitched in her cheek as she recalled the burnt stone and melted metal where Shulim had once stood.
“Crew’s a bit nervy, captain,” Jackson continued. “I don’t think anyone expected the number of storms that hit the Veritas since leaving port. Watching an underwater volcano explosion was a hell of a treat, but many of them are thinking they could have done without the front-row seats. They want to know when we’re headed for home.”
Ashe scowled. She signed her reply as Jinn squawked, “We were hired for a job, Mr. Jackson. We’ll head home when the job’s done.”
“Any idea when that will be, captain? I like Varun well enough, but it ain’t right having a scientist and his fashion girlfriend call the shots.”
“The fashion girlfriend’s father is paying for the charter.”
“Ondine’s creeping out the crew.” Jackson scowled. He tugged down on his pressed white shirt. “We don’t need any of her this-mission-is-cursed, oh-God-we-are-all-going-to-die crap.” He pitched his voice into a falsetto as he mimed Varun’s girlfriend’s wide-eyed panic. “She’s making like a witch. The crew don’t like that.”
“I know. She’s afraid of the sea. Apparently, she nearly drowned once.”
Jackson flung his arms to the side. “Then why is she on a ship?”
Ashe shrugged. “Varun may be able to convince her to stay on Kalymnos with his parents. There’s no point in her tagging along.”
Jackson nodded. “Not like she’s doing anything anyway.”
“Where’s Varun?”
“Said he was going diving about a half hour ago.” Jackson switched the security monitor to a view of the deck, and squinted at the screen. The corner that Ashe used to board the Veritas was not within the camera’s scope, and the wind had dried the footprints she left on the wooden deck. “He usually checks in when he gets back, and I haven’t heard from him, but you could check his lab.”
“I will. You have everything under control here?”
“Yes, captain. I’m good for the next couple of hours, then Meifeng’s on duty.”
Jinn fluttered his wings and cooed at Jackson. “See you later, pumpkin.”
Jackson chuckled. Apparently, he knew, as did Ashe, when Jinn was speaking of his own will. “See you later, Jinn.”
Ashe walked past the crew quarters and the mess hall. Jackson was right. The crew was on edge. The conversations were less boisterous, and the laughter less raucous than usual. The steps at the end of the corridor wound down to the laboratory. The marine research station filled the entire lowest deck, and included three saltwater holding tanks and a separate room for the laboratory and its expensive equipment.
The lights were dim over the tanks, none of which held anything more interesting than seawater and a handful of stray fish that had been caught up in the suction pipes when the tanks were filled. The laboratory, too, was darkened, but Ashe entered the room. Jinn flicked up on the light switch with his beak.
The metal tables reflected the glow of the halogen lights; the scent of disinfectant filled the room.
What did Varun do with all these things? Ashe wondered as she trailed her fingers over the gleaming machines. He was so obsessed with facts and data that it was a wonder he had been able to wrap his mind around the existence of a mermaid who had become a Daughter of Air.
In the rare, quiet moments, Ashe mulled over the absurd twist of destiny that led her back to the Zale family. The prince of Kalymnos, Varun’s ancestor, twelve generations earlier, had been the man for whom she had left the ocean. More specifically, she had left the ocean for his library. His collection of ancient manuscripts, however, had not revealed the secrets of obtaining a soul.
Ashe had left the ocean and abandoned her infant son, Zamir, for nothing.
She had taken a risk, but not only had it failed to pay off, it had backfired horribly almost three centuries later. Zamir, ruined by her abandonment, had almost destroyed the ocean in search for his own soul.
Just goes to show, there’s no time limit on the consequences of bad decision-making.
So why is there always a time limit on fixing it?
It struck her as horribly unfair.
Ashe’s gaze fell on a small notebook, partially concealed beneath a stack of paper. Its incongruous location drew her attention. Varun was meticulously organized. He was the kind who sorted things by size. A notebook that small would never have landed up beneath larger pieces of paper, unless it had been deliberately placed there. Deliberately concealed.