Waterfire Saga, Book Four: Sea Spell: Deep Blue Novel, A (8 page)

T
HE WEBS were slung low over the swamp, from tree limb to tree limb, like giant white hammocks.

The creatures who’d spun them, each as big as a large dog, scuttled back and forth above the dark water, checking the webs, hoping to find a hapless bird, a fat raccoon, or a juicy human snared in them.

But it wasn’t the fierce arachnids that Manon Laveau was searching for in the Spiderlair.

“Where are you, child? And where are
you
, you nasty water devils?” she muttered, peering into her seeing stone.

“Manon Laveau, what the
hell
are you doing?” Jean Lafitte shouted, startling the swamp queen. She’d thought she was alone. “Have you gone
cooyon
? What if you lay eyes on one of those Okwa?”

“You’re jumpier than a frog in a stew pot, Lafitte,” Manon said, trying to shrug him off. “I
won’t
lay eyes on an Okwa, not up close. I’ll only see an image in the stone.”

“No one who sees the Okwa Naholo, no matter whatever which way, lives to tell about it,” Lafitte said ominously, wagging a beringed finger at her. “Playing with waterfire, that’s what
you’re
doing.”

“You’re the frettingest pirate I ever met! Hush now!” Manon snapped. He’d rattled her. Embarrassed her, too. She didn’t want him, or anyone else, to know that she was worried about Ava.

“Why do you care what happens to that fool of a mermaid? She’s trouble!” Lafitte shot back. “You’re not yourself these days. You coming down with something?”

Manon didn’t answer him. Instead, she thought. She thought about people who would do anything for power and wealth. She’d seen terragoggs bulldoze her precious swamp, pollute its waters, and kill its rare creatures. And that new shack bully over in Miromara—Vallerio—he was mer, but he was just as bad. Traho, too. They’d destroy the world, and everything in it, for a bigger castle, a shinier chariot, or a chest full of gold.

Manon had seen much in her time, and she’d become hard, even cynical, as a result. She’d become unwilling to help others, because so few of them deserved help. But she still believed one thing with all her heart: that she was here to protect the swamp and pass it on to those who came after, just as her forebears had passed it on to her.

She knew that her life was a gift she’d one day have to give back. Horok would take her soul. The swamp would take her flesh and bones. It would break them down and use them to nourish the creatures of the dark waters, just as those creatures had nourished her.

That was nature’s way. That was the circle of life. And now this
thing
, this
abomination
, this
Orfeo
wanted to break that circle. Because he was arrogant and selfish and could not accept his wife’s mortality, or his own. Well, maybe it was high time he learned to.

“Manon? Manon Laveau, have you gone deaf? I asked you a question!”

“Yes, Lafitte,” Manon said at length, “I
am
sick. Sick to death.”

“What’s wrong? Leech fever? Where’s the pain?”

“In my heart.”

The ghost shook his head sorrowfully. “That’s no good. You’re a goner for sure.”

“Maybe so. But if I’m going, I’m taking a few with me,” Manon said decisively.

Summoning all her powers of concentration, she stared into the stone again. She couldn’t see any sort of swamp spirit, which was good. But she couldn’t see Ava, either, which wasn’t.

Ever since she’d heard the mermaid’s story, Manon felt a strong sense of duty toward her. She wanted to protect her, to help her succeed in her quest. Mostly because she’d come to care for Ava, but also because saving her meant saving the swamp, and all its creatures, from Orfeo.

Manon knew that Ava hadn’t been captured by Traho, because he and his men were lost in the Blackwaters. She’d seen
them
in the seeing stone moments ago and had had a good long laugh at their expense.

Trouble was, when it came to the Okwa, Manon didn’t even know what she was looking for. No account of them existed because anyone in a position to give one was dead. As she continued to scan the murky waters of the Spiderlair, a flash of silver caught her eye.

“Bet
that’s
her toothy little piranha,” she said excitedly. As she focused in on the flash, she saw that it was indeed Baby. A ray of sunshine had pierced the swamp’s leafy canopy and was bouncing off his scales. He was swimming around Ava, teeth bared to anything that moved.

Manon heaved a sigh of relief, then started to chant, her voice urgent and low. She called on the gris-gris she’d made for Ava to work its magic, to safeguard her.

As she finished her chant, Manon sat back. She told herself that the gris-gris would be enough, that it would keep the mermaid safe.

“I made that charm strong,” she whispered. “There isn’t a mer alive who can make one stronger.”

She nearly had herself convinced when it suddenly appeared, slithering out from a tangle of cypress roots, just a few yards ahead of Ava.

Manon’s eyes widened. Her hands clutched the arms of her throne. And then the swamp queen, who had seen many a dark thing in her day, screamed.

T
HE HEADACHE was so bad tonight, Sera thought it would split her skull in two.

They were getting worse, but she couldn’t let the others know. They would tell her to rest or make her see a doctor, and she couldn’t spare the time. There was too much to do. She had to keep going. She couldn’t let the resistance down.

She was on her way to headquarters to meet with her inner circle. They gathered there every night to talk over the day’s problems.

“Pull yourself together,” she whispered as she entered the cave, then greeted the others. Neela, Ling, and Becca were seated at the far end of the table. Desiderio and Yazeed were at the near end, bent over the map spread across it. As she glanced at it, pain sliced through her brain like a ship’s keel through water. She couldn’t keep from wincing.

Neela noticed. “Sera? What’s wrong?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

Sera forced a smile. “Nothing. Just a cramp in my tail.”

“Hey, Sera,” Des said, motioning her over, “take a look at the map. We need to talk about where to hit first. We can’t put it off any longer.”

The last thing Sera wanted to talk about was that map, and the cowrie shells covering it. They were the reason for her headaches, the reason she hadn’t slept for days.

“I…uh, I want to go over some other things first, Des,” she said, trying to ignore the throbbing in her head. “Ling, are you getting any closer to finding the spy? Please tell me yes.”

“I wish I could,” Ling said regretfully. “I’ve had lots of Black Fins take turns at trying to solve the puzzle. The entire camp’s talking about the spy now, and the Arrow of Judgment. My plan will work, I’m sure of it. I just need more time.”

Sera nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “What about Sophia and Totschläger? Anyone see any sign of them yet?”

It had been two days since Sophia, Totschläger, and twenty other Black Fins had left to rendezvous with the Näkki.

“No news,” Yazeed said, “but that’s not a reason to panic. Not yet. They’re not due back until tomorrow morning.”

“What about Ava and Astrid?” asked Sera. “Has anyone been able to convoca them?”

“I tried several times today, but I couldn’t get through,” Ling replied. “The rocks here contain so much iron, they’re messing with my songspells. I’ll stay on it, though.”

“It’s been days since we’ve heard from either of them,” Sera fretted.

“Ava and Astrid are tough,” Becca reassured her. “And smart. They’ll make it.”

Sera laughed mirthlessly. “So, besides Ava being lost in a swamp full of homicidal maniacs, and Astrid swimming off to meet the king of homicidal maniacs, what other insurmountable problems are we facing tonight?”

“Soldiers,” Desiderio said. “Or lack thereof.” He’d been working with Meerteufel commanders on drilling the goblin troops. “The goblins are doing well on maneuvers,” he said, “but we still don’t have enough of them.”

“How do we augment their numbers?” Sera asked, struggling to keep the strain out of her voice. She was so exhausted, she felt dizzy. And the ache in her head was getting worse. She massaged her left temple, hoping the others didn’t notice.

“Refugees,” Neela replied. “All they talk about, from the minute they arrive, is how badly they want to go back to Cerulea and take on Vallerio.”

Word was spreading of the Black Fins’ stronghold in the north, and mer were flocking to the Kargjord. Nearly two hundred had arrived today alone. Neela was in charge of seeing that they were all sheltered and fed. She’d put them in barracks under the protective thicket of Devil’s Tail thorns that floated above the center of the camp. She’d had to move some soldiers outside the thicket and into tents to make room for all the newcomers.

“The refugees may not be enough. We may have to go back to Guldemar to ask for more troops,” Desiderio countered.

Sera grimaced at the idea. She’d dealt with the difficult Meerteufel chieftain once, and it had been quite an ordeal. Returning to his court at Scaghaufen did not appeal to her.

“We need more weapons, too,” Des added. “Even after the deal you made with the Näkki, we still don’t have enough. Not to equip all the newcomers. We’re low on ammo as well.”

“We could solve the ammo problem
so
easily if we could just find a lava seam,” Yazeed said, frustrated. “There are two shipwrecks four leagues east of here. The hull from one alone, melted down, would give us thousands of arrows and spearheads.”

“The goblins are awesome metalworkers. They could set up a forge in no time,” added Desiderio.

“Becca, any luck on the lava front?” asked Sera.

“No,” she replied. “I’m sorry. I’ve got teams of goblins looking day and night, but so far we’ve found nothing.”

“How are the building projects coming?”

Becca unrolled one of the large parchments lying on the table in front of her. On it she’d charted the status of the new barracks, infirmary, and school. She took Sera and the others through it in detail. Half an hour later, she finished.

“Becca, you have a tremendous amount going on. Can you assign some of the work to others?” Sera asked, her eyes on the chart.

Becca shook her head. “I can handle it, Sera.”

“But, Becca—”

“Seriously. I’ve
got
it,” she insisted, an edge to her voice.

Sera looked up at her, struck by her tone. As she did, she noticed that there were dark circles under Becca’s eyes, and that her cheeks looked hollow.

Something’s wrong. Something more than a heavy workload,
Sera thought, alarmed for her friend. She knew she should take Becca aside and try to find out what was going on with her, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even think straight any longer. She had to get out of here.

“Are we done?” Des asked. “Because we’ve got to talk about Vallerio’s troops, the Southern Sea, and—”

“Des, I can’t. Not now. I—” she started to say.

“Sera, you have to,” Des said, cutting her off. “We need to make a decision.”

No,
Sera thought frantically.

“Des is right, Sera,” Yazeed said. “About needing to prep, that is. Not about where to attack.”

Des snorted. He shot Yazeed a look, then cleared piles of parchments off the table and placed them on the floor so that Sera had a better view of the map. As soon as her gaze fell upon it, another bolt of pain shot through her skull.

“We have two enemies to battle: Vallerio and Abbadon,” Des said, “and we can’t take them both on at once. We all know that. What we need to decide—”