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Diadora scowled. The angry sea hurled back-to-back swells. She stared down the sideway sprays and wiped the mist from her cheeks. Even she, the Empress of the Underworld, could not control the whims of nature and its raw, unforgiving power.
Four miserable, indistinguishable weeks had passed since the poisonings and Cole’s escape with the earthling, Parker. Each day, she dwelled on the sting of Cole’s betrayal and her poor judgment in trusting him. If she had listened to her inner circle, then he would still be a prisoner in the Vault, deep in the Abyss. The Underworld would rule. And the earthling, the hope of the Upperworld, would no longer be a threat. “If. Then.” Words with endless possibilities.
Cole and the earthling were responsible. They had poisoned her brother’s three precious children, stolen their futures, and for what? What did they hope to gain? If Cole had designs on her throne, she would not rest until his wings were clipped from his body and he was reduced to nothing more than food for her pet beaked sea snake, Keely.
Voices mumbled outside her chamber. Flickers of neon light beamed from beneath her door signaling a visit from her seahorses, Hercala and Dorian. Their tails whipped neon flashes of white and sapphire. She wished they would go away. Instead, she took a deep breath and barked, “No one is welcome today. Please take your leave.”
“Empress, Scavenger is here from the Black Sea. He has news,” Hercala said. “He says he can only speak with you.” The seahorse paused. “He appears quite battle-worn, Empress. Bloody, too. Do you want us to send him back to the Black Sea?”
Diadora turned from the door and deliberated Scavenger’s motive for coming. Bold of him to turn up after she’d banished him from the Cavern of the Sea. Without knowing, he had contributed to Cole’s escape. And it was unforgiveable. He was the last Underworlder she wanted to see. She mulled over Scavenger’s whys and what-fors. There must be a reason.
She unlatched the heavy metal door and towered before them. She knew how she appeared—an Amazonian woman with a head full of deep scarlet rogue curls that fell far beneath her shoulders. Her green eyes blazed, and her metallic, microscopic scales sparked with a dose of red, nearing the tipping point of irate.
Rocking his enormous head from side to side, Scavenger, part sea creature/part human, edged his lumbering crab-like body closer to the Empress. His blackened shell and bulging eyes were caked with dirt and blood. He inched forward on jagged claws. Once at the entry, he stretched his neck to its fullest length to lock his gaze with Diadora. The rubbery skin wrapping his skull puffed in and out with each breath.
Clearly, Scavenger had risked his life to make the trip back to the Meridian. She resisted her urge to display emotion. She’d seen death. She would doubtless see more. She fired the questions, “Scavenger, what happened? Are you alright? Are you alone?” She maneuvered him to a large stone to rest and directed him to sit down. Her brain already imagined trouble in the far reaches of the Underworld. “Were you attacked?”
“We’ve had some trouble, Your Highness,” he sputtered. “But I was determined to bring you the news myself…of the activity at the Black Sea. Perhaps, you will find it a welcome surprise.”
“I’m not in the mood for surprises,” Diadora snapped. Her worry uncontrollably reversed to impatience. Again, she caught herself from bending to the spiraling anger surging within her. She turned on her heels and went back to the blazing fire in her hearth. She poked the flames with the tips of her fingers. Then, she reclined on her throne of glittering minerals. The jewels of the sea calmed her.
She faced him and said as gently as she could, “Tell me, Scavenger. There is nothing to fear here.”
He shuffled toward her, stammering as he approached. “Cole and the earthling…the one they call Parker…are here. In our waters. Right now, the old hawk, Vibius, is holding them captive at the Black Sea.” Scavenger smiled a wide grin exposing rows of crooked teeth.
Diadora spit out more questions. “Is that so? And what makes you think an elderly, battered bird would be able to guard them?”
She rippled her fingers over the lime-green peridot gems embedded in the arms of her throne to control her runaway temper. She thought back to when Vibius, the Upperworld royal, first appeared with his intention to take over the Upperworld from his cousin, Stefanos, months ago. At the time, she’d held in a hearty laugh. Stefanos had commanded great respect amongst his people. The old bird’s plan to take his cousin’s place had seemed a flight of fancy. Yet she’d agreed to supply him with the materials he requested. And then, according to reports, he’d actually gotten results. The Upperworld was in damage control mode.
Any move to destabilize or dethrone Stefanos and his iron grip over the Upperworlders was a move of which her father would approve.
Scavenger broke her reverie. “Oh, he’s not alone, Your Highness. Your guard, Veto stands with Vibius.” He hesitated and added, “Vibius ordered me to come here and tell you in person.”
Diadora immediately detected a fib. Scavenger had averted his face from hers and his mouth had turned upward in an awkward smirk.
“Really? An old hawk and a weak guard are manning our prized prisoners?” She challenged, “Am I to believe Cole and Parker are so foolish as to come back?” A hint of a smile crept up her cheeks.
A trip to the Black Sea was not to her liking. The crab’s description did not make sense. Something was amiss. Diadora scrutinized Scavenger’s blubbery face. “Prepare my guardsmen. I want a squad following me.”
Her troops waited at The Hollows, the midpoint at the Cavern of the Sea between her home, the Meridian, and her brother Pantione’s home in the Grotto. The Hollows were a series of natural air pockets rippled with luminosity from phosphorescent algae and isotopes, interspersed through the dreamy sea. Diadora relaxed her shoulders as she approached the striking iridescent purple rock walls which illuminated her path. The beauty of her world fortified her soul. The Hollows provided much-needed color in contrast to the shadows that darkened most of the Underworld.
For several hours, she traveled with her troops deep into the layers of the Labyrinth. In the distance, a massive figure lay lifeless along the shoreline. Diadora neared the huge lump. She recognized the giant body of Vibius—unconscious and bled-out. Veto, armless and tongue-less, shook uncontrollably, cowering beside the corpse.
With hot breath steaming, Diadora surveyed the shore and its swampy trails. Firing every word, she shouted, “Where are my prisoners? Where is Cole? Where is the earthling?”
She caught sight of the bloodied ropes swaying in the light wind and searched the crowd for Scavenger. “Show yourself, Scavenger!” Diadora demanded. Moments later, the crab emerged from the rear of the lineup with unsteady steps.
Diadora grabbed him by his thin, spongy neck. Her fingers flamed and burned his skin as she lifted him from the ground to meet her glare. “What happened here?” Her words were accompanied with the spit of saliva. “I only see the filthy remains of the Upperworld scum, Vibius.” She grimaced. “Appears he lost a wing. How did that happen?” She cast her eyes around the scene. In the tall weeds, she spotted the feathered remnants of the enormous wing. Her stomach churned.
“They were right here, Empress.” Scavenger huffed between gasps and pointed to the broken twisted ropes. “Cole was bound over there. Half dead. Snakehead was cracking the whip. I thought Cole would be dead by now. Your eels lay in wait, hungry for breakfast. I secured the earthling, Parker, myself. Tied her up, I did. Then, Vibius told me to return to the Meridian and advise you to prepare a public display of your prisoners.” His voice cracked and sputtered.
“Thissss isss true, Your Grace,” Snakehead hissed as he slid forward alongside Scavenger.
“We will talk about this later, Scavenger!” Diadora seethed. She pulled the hood from her robe over her hair, shadowing her face. She hadn’t counted on the earthling returning. How had the girl found her way to the Black Sea? No one knew the portal access to the Underworld from the Upperworld? Or so she had thought.
She filled her nostrils with the briny aroma of the sea and regained her composure. “What’s done is done. At least we are rid of another blemished Upperworlder. His presence in our sovereign waters, dead or alive, disturbs me. Besides, he was a royal. Their royal. Let him have a proper burial in the Upperworld. Not here.” Diadora stared at Vibius’ bloody body and commanded the mudskippers to prepare a wrapping for the hawk so he could be returned to the Upperworld.
She reflected for a moment and brightened with the idea of a public display. “But first, we will make a show of our win. I want Vibius taken to the Cavern of the Sea. He will be on view for our people. Let it be known across our world that we have captured a royal Upperworlder trespassing—slain for committing crimes against our union.”
Less than an hour later, six guards dragged the mud-packed carcass to the Gallows as they followed Pantione, the Commanding General of the Underworld army. The soldiers filed in procession, waving dark navy flags bearing the circular golden crest with its insignia of a fish curled in on its own tail. Swarms of Underworlders flanked the path and Diadora silently celebrated her victory, grateful her people had a win to relish.
She mused how the citizens of the Underworld represented a marvel of nature—each a blend of human and piscine features. Through the evolutionary changes of their planet and the destruction of the lands, the Underworlders had morphed to thrive in the seas as well as in its airy caves. Over time, most Underworlders had developed human arms, hands, legs, and feet. When they traveled the seas, their human characteristics retracted within their bodies to enhance their underwater movements. While in the underwater caves of the Underworld or along the shores, they moved about freely on whatever they chose: crab claws, flippers, or feet.
The truth was her position was precarious. Diadora could stand up personally to a challenger for the throne. But now, without an heir apparent, she could not withstand organized resistance. And that might be coming. The caves directly below Katamoor were not used by Underworlders and hadn’t been for centuries. Explosions and an earthquake had triggered their sudden collapse and were a cause for great concern. Of course, no one ‘officially’ lived below Katamoor, as part of the peace agreement Diadora’s father had made, but unofficially thousands were missing and presumed dead. Officially, no one could petition her with a grievance for life lost beneath Katamoor, but that wouldn’t stop grief and anger if she did nothing.
In short, the death of Vibius was a godsend. Likely not enough of a blessing that it could make the problem disappear, but it would divert her citizens’ thoughts and would buy her time.
Diadora joined her brother. “This is our time to claim this triumph for our people, Pantione. Vibius died here, even though the kill was not by our hand. A dead Upperworld royal is our win.”
The roar of the boisterous crowds grew louder. Their cheers escalated as she passed the outstretched arms of those hoping to touch royalty as they proceeded toward the Gallows. Her tactics had been correct. Spinning Cole’s betrayal and Vibius’ back-stabbing into the slaying of an Upperworld royal had empowered her people. After all, twenty years had passed. She had not seen a win for the Underworld since she was a ten-year-old.
Pantione stood beside his sister who was now seated on her throne. They observed from a viewing balcony carved into a rocky ledge as the procession entered its final stretch. Pantione directed the sentinels to place the body of Vibius on the platform of reeds. Then, he signaled the lead guards to bring forth torches and light the mounds of dried seaweed to create the ceremonial fire around the body. They would not burn the remains; only demonstrate to their people they had delivered the death blow to the Upperworld royal.
Diadora stared at Pantione and whispered, “Good riddance to Upperworld rubbish. We wanted to believe he could help us. But all he brought was bad luck.” Strangely, Diadora found no joy as the fire burned and the smoke tainted the Underworld in shades of gray.
She sent her brother a silent message, ‘The deed is done. Now we must deal with Cole and the earthling.’
Pantione soundlessly acknowledged, ‘Put that piece away for today, Diadora. Our people want to bask in your glory. We have slayed an enemy. None know he approached us to help him gain power in the Upperworld. That is how it must stay.’
She knew he was right. But still she wanted the body gone from the Upperworld. “Have him prepared to be returned to Stefanos.”