Brida had expected a battalion of merfolk to join Edonin, but only she tread the waves. She, however, hadn’t come alone. A pair of colossal black shapes cut a swath through the waves, huge dorsal fins, twice the height of a tall man, catching the moon’s light on their tips before they dove beneath the surface.
Theaphad brought sea wolves with her. For what purpose, Brida couldn’t begin to guess, but their presence didn’t bode well for Ospodine, who was, so far, unaware of their presence.
Ospodine, smug with his victory in luring theapto him, executed a mocking bow. “Ap-Edonin. I thought I’d never see you again.”
She stared at him, wearing that same look of anguish Brida had seen when she translated Ospodine’s name for her. “I’d hoped never to see you again.
His face wiped clean of expression, except for a tightness around his mouth. “Is that any way to speak to your son?” he said in a hoarse voice.
Brida’s mouth fell open and she stared at Ahtin, who showed no surprise at Ospodine’s latest disclosure. This violent, entitled man was theap’sson?
“I have no sons,” Edonin replied, voice cold. “You murdered them both long ago when you sacrificed your brother to a riven mage for the chance to walk on land. How much of his soul and blood did that monster steal before his sorcery turned you? And now you have regrets?” Her fluke slapped the water twice, fury in the stiff set of her shoulders.
“You forced my hand!” Tiny bolts of lightning sparked off Ospodine’s fingers. “You knew what I wanted yet you refused me Pneuma’s Blessing.” He panted, visibly working to control his rage. “Gulsuca was a half-blood anyway,” he said with a sniff, as if that explanation justified his fratricide. He shoved Brida’s legs with the toe of his shoe. “No better than this bitch. Worse even because he tainted our herd.” He flung out his arm in a frustrated gesture. “How could you mate with a land walker?
“Because I loved him. And I loved the child I bore him. A spirit of earth and sea in the best way.” The sorrow in her voice made Brida’s eyes well with tears. Her sorrow sharpened to anger, turning cold as before. “You didn’t just murder your brother, you desecrated him. Why would I ever welcome you back to these waters?”
Brida might have pitied Ospodine for his mother’s rejection of him, if he hadn’t tried to drown her. As it was, his forlorn look didn’t move her, nor did it last. The haughty visage he showed to the world settled firmly on his features, utterly unrepentant for what he’d done. For what he was about to do.
“Because if you don’t, history will repeat itself. You know this magic as well as I do, Mother. Used in the right spell, and the blood and soul of both elements can give one legs or fins. Gulsuca was convenient because he had both, but I don’t need a halfbreed whelp to work this magic, just land and water, and I have both here. He pointed to Brida and Ahtin. “Their deaths will fulfill that requirement.”
Edonin glided closer to the rock, dangerously close to where Ospodine stood. “If you do this and return to the Gray, all of ocean-kind will hunt you. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her threat, made in the gentlest voice, was no less terrifying for it. Brida believed her, and judging by Ospodine’s pale features, so did he.
His jaw clenched, and his hands curled into fists. “Then I will swim the rivers and make of them my kingdoms.” He bared his teeth at Ahtin and Brida when Ahtin suddenly issued a series of whistles and screeching pulsed calls that made Brida wince. She gasped when Ospodine reached into his long overtunic and brought out a knife, an athame with a black blade. He crouched next to Ahtin, bound tight in the sorcerous net, and pressed the blade’s edge to the merman’s throat. Ahtin hissed at him.
“Please don’t do this,” Brida begged him.
He ignored her, attention fully on Edonin who met his eyes with an unwavering stare. “Give me Pneuma’s Blessing, Mother, so that I may become mer again.”
Frozen in Ahtin’s arms, Brida stared at the blade, the edge pressed hard against Ahtin’s neck. A thin line of blood oozed over the steel where, to her horror, the metal soaked it up like a sponge, as if the athame drank from its victim. She almost added her voice to Ospodine’s demands. Whatever Pneuma’s Blessing was, she prayed Edonin would surrender it and save her grandson from the predation of her twisted son.
Edonin lowered her head, the sigh she emitted an echo carried on the wind across the face of the waters. A black shadow coursed below them, crossing paths with another of equal darkness. The merwoman touched the hollow of her throat with her fingertips.
Ghostly light pulsed beneath them, elongating into smoky skeins as she stretched her arm toward Ospodine. Gaze locked on the revenant magic, he stood to meet it as it snaked toward him. Brida sagged into Ahtin, hardly daring to believe they both managed to avoid having their throats slit, at least for now.
“The Blessing of Pneuma,” Edonin said, and this time her voice enfolded them all. “All the magic of our herd spilled out before you, Seahorse. Passed fromaptoapand shared with all. Sea magic, long life, and we, theaps, the keepers of that birthright.” As she spoke, age lines blossomed across her face, carving deeper with each word. Her cheeks sagged, and her eyes grew hollow. Her breasts flattened and her arms lost their firmness.
Ospodine changed as well as the misty tendril of ancient sea magic coiled around his hand to slide up his arm. His ears transformed, the once smooth helixes stretching to accommodate small spikes along their lengths. The hair of his eyebrows fell out, leaving behind bony ridges. He touched his changing face, trilling a victory tremolo in whistles he couldn’t sound earlier, uncaring that his longed-for metamorphosis back to merman came at the price of his mother’s life force.
She watched him from sad eyes in a sunken face. “The Blessing must be freely given, Seahorse, or it isn’t a blessing.”
Suddenly, the ghostly tether that connected him to Edonin solidified, becoming a thick rope tightening on Ospodine’s arm. Edonin gave a quick jerk of her head. The rope snapped taut, yanking Ospodine so hard forward, he pinwheeled off the ledge and into the water.
Still trapped by the net, Ahtin managed to roll himself and Brida to a new position in time to see the spires of dorsal fins rise above the waves and speed toward Ospodine. He saw them as well and screeched his terror, an eerie combination that sounded both human and merman.
The Blessing of Pneuma was gone, spiraling back to its customary place, giving back the grace of the sea to one of its matriarchs. Edonin no longer looked the crone, but she still looked aged, not by the parasitic draw of stolen magic but by the actions of her son.
Ospodine flailed in the water, striking out for the ledge and the questionable safety of the rock flat. He made it, heaving himself onto its surface, murder in his gaze when it landed on Brida and Ahtin. He still clutched the athame and lurched toward them. He didn’t get far.
Brida screamed when one of the monstrous fish, bigger than a fisherman’s boat, surged out of the water onto the rock flat, its momentum and weight propelling it forward at the speed of a ship sailing under full mast. Its maw opened, revealing rows of cone-shaped pointed teeth, before it snapped closed on the back of Ospodine’s tunic. Ospodine never had a chance to cry out. As fast as the creature appeared, it slid back in the water with its prey and dove. Its companion followed, dorsal spire shedding water as it rose, slicing clean as it sank, followed by the slap of a fluke the width of a barn door.
The ensorcelled net surrounding Brida and Ahtin turned to dust and was swept into the sea to join its creator.
Despite her shock at what she witnessed, and the events prior to it, she flung her arms around Ahtin’s neck and kissed him. He returned her affection with gusto, pulling away only when an inquiring whistle sounded next to them.
Edonin swam to them, gripping the rock ledge with one hand, holding out Brida’s flute with the other. “This fell in the water.”
