Chapter 29: A Red Tide
Three days had never passed so slowly or so quickly for Triton. The hours seemed to flow with the ease of an anchor dragged through a reef, each moment drawn out longer than the last. But now, waiting at the threshold of Atlantica astride his giant seahorse Whitecap, fifty armed mermen in rank and file at his back, it seemed they passed in a fleeting glimmer. Funny how time could do that.
Urchin pulled his own seahorse to a stop beside the sea king, the large hippocampid throwing its head about in eagerness to start the journey. "All present and accounted for, your majesty. Just give the order."
"Good work, Urchin." Triton looked up to the sun, a wavering orb of brilliance hanging above the surface. Even from down here he could tell it would be noon soon. It was time to depart.
Urchin looked back uneasily at the troops. "Um…not to question your orders, but do we really need to bring this many? I know we're being cautious, but wouldn't it be better to leave them here in case Morgana or Ursula make a move?"
"Which is why we're not bringing more," said Triton as he picked up the reins in one hand, holding the trident firmly in the other. "Never hurts to be prepared, Urchin. Especially when dealing with witches."
He raised the trident high to give the signal for their departure. "Forward, men! On to Sea–!"
"Wait! Wait, your majesty!"
Triton quickly pulled his seahorse around. The soldiers were parting as Sebastian came swimming through with all haste, followed closely by two mermen supporting another between them.
Triton could tell something was wrong the moment he saw them. Sebastian had a panicked look on his face, his claws turning like pinwheels in a gale as he swam. The merman being carried had reddish black discoloration over his skin and bright yellow tail. His long brown hair was patchy with black frizzled ends. He hung heavily off his supporters, fins almost dragging on the sea floor.
As Triton and Urchin dismounted and the mermen swam closer the gravity of the situation became apparent. What the king mistook for discoloration was some of the most horrifying wounds he had ever seen. Swathes of raw bleeding skin and blisters covered the merman's torso and arms. Large patches of his brilliant scales were flaking and charred, and his fins were ragged as kelp scraped over rocks. Deep purple marks encircled his neck. Branching raised red lines radiated from a wound in his shoulder, as though a harpoon had implanted some sinister invader under his skin.
"Sebastian, what happened!?" asked Triton as the mermen carefully lowered the wounded soldier onto the sandy bottom. One of them lifted his head, only to have the merman cough heavily before returning to wheezing, ragged breaths.
The crab landed beside the injured merman. "De guards found him just now on de western side of de city!"
"Move back! Keep back, all of you!" ordered Urchin as the soldiers began clustering around, trying to ensure the king had space. Triton placed the trident over the merman's chest. The forks glowed blue, bathing him in a healing aura. Immediately his wounds started to heal over, but much slower than Triton expected.
"Who is responsible for this!?" Triton demanded. "Where are they!?"
"We don't know, sire!" said one of the mermen. "He was like that when we found him! There was no one else!"
Urchin pressed two fingers to the merman's pulse. "His heart's going crazy! He needs a doctor and fast! Why did you bring him here!?"
"We tried!" explained the other merman. "But he was adamant he speak with his majesty! He said it was a matter of life and death!"
"You couldn't take a message!?" snapped Urchin. "He could die because of–!"
"Quiet!" barked Triton, silencing them both. "He's waking up."
The merman's eyes fluttered open, darting about before settling on the king. "S-sire."
Triton tried to manage a small but hopefully comforting smile for the merman. "It's all right, son. We have you. You're safe now."
"What's your name?" asked Urchin.
"Skip…jack." He coughed again, his whole body heaving as he hacked.
The trident glowed brighter at Triton's urgency, afraid the merman could fade before he gave the answers he needed. "Who did this to you, Skipjack?"
"Wi…witch…" he mumbled.
Triton tensed, as did everyone else who heard. "Was it Morgana!? Ursula!?"
Skip could only roll his head side to side.
"Then who? Who's responsible for this!?" demanded Triton, the forks glowing brighter still. The wound in Skip's shoulder began closing up faster, but it was still too slow for Triton's liking.
"No…time," whispered Skip. "You must…stop them."
One of the soldiers pushed his way into the circle. "I know him, sire! I know this merman! We went through training together! He was stationed out at Abyssum two weeks ago!"
"What? Are you certain?" asked Triton
The merman nodded hastily. "I saw him off myself! Him and three of my best mates!"
With great effort Skip reached up and clasped Triton's arm. "Please, sire! You must…listen! Still…time! Abyssum…was not… the only…target! The other is… is…!"
His voice drifted off into a whisper as his eyes began to wander again. Triton could feel the grip on his arm waning. "What!?" pleaded Triton urgently. "What is their other target!?"
Skip's lips moved as he tried to speak, but his voice was so weak Triton and Urchin could barely hear it. They leaned in close, very concerned the next words could be his last.
"Eel…Ec…tric…Ci…ty…"
Skip went limp, his eyes rolling up and closing. Triton feared the young merman had died but was spared the possibility when Skip began drawing slow shallow breaths.
A look of mutual alarm passed between Triton and Urchin. Eel Ectric City was home to more than twenty thousand merfolk and fish, surpassed in size and population only by Atlantica. Triton had drawn a significant portion of their guard off to hunt for Morgana and Ursula. If the enemy set its sights on the city, they could only be planning something of profound villainy. Just as harrowing was that Abyssum was being targeted –or worse, had been. Neither Triton nor Urchin had any love of that prison, but it was crucial to the safety of Atlantica and the oceans. An attack there would be devastating, especially if their enemy's goal was liberating Abyssum's residents.
"Get this merman to a doctor immediately!" shouted Triton as he fetched his seahorse and led the animal over. "Make sure he survives! Do whatever it takes! Urchin, take these men and swim to Eel Ectric City as fast as you can! If you find the enemy, drive them out! Sebastian, I want all every available merman to follow on the double!"
"Wait, what about you?" asked Urchin as Triton helped the mermen move their injured comrade onto the steed.
"I'm going to Abyssum!"
Urchin's eyes went wide as sand dollars. "What!? Alone!?"
"They cannot be allowed to take it!" said Triton as he slapped Whitecap's rump, sending the seahorse, rider, and urgent cargo back to Atlantica. "If that witch is still there I can put an end to her once and for all!"
"But sire, dat's a day's swim from here!" exclaimed Sebastian.
"Not for me!" said Triton as he held the trident in front of him. "Trident, go!"
The ancient weapon hummed to life at the king's command. It glowed with a golden luminescence, vibrating as Triton took hold of it in both hands. He held on tight as the trident shot forward like an undersea rocket, leaving a trail of golden bubbles in its wake. Within seconds he was little more than a speck of gold against the ever-shifting canvas of the ocean surface, streaking towards whatever awaited him in the wilderness.
A lone sharkanian hid behind a rocky reef barely an arrow's flight from the scene. But this was not just any sharkanian. This was a scout. Unlike some of his less intelligent brethren, sharkanian scouts were masters of camouflage. Their training was rigorous, and at times dangerous. Less than one in fifty actually went on to achieve the coveted title. This was one of those few who made it. The sharkanian had clothed himself in a fine fishnet, attaching fragments of kelp, seaweed, coral, and algae to it. Against his dark gray skin and by remaining perfectly still, the sharkanian looked like part of the reef. A school of wrasse swam by, completely unaware of his presence.
He peered over the reef, using a scavenged spyglass to watch. He made sure to follow the lips of anyone speaking, especially Triton. Being able to tell what your enemy was saying from a distance was crucial to being a scout. He observed the half-dead merman being brought before Triton, then the king shooting away while Urchin and the fifty mermen departed with haste for Eel Ectric City. A small red speck swam after the king's steed as it rushed the mutilated merman to a doctor.
The sharkanian smirked. Collapsing his spyglass, he slowly inched down behind the reef, making sure he was completely out of sight before allowing any lax in his actions. He dug in the sand to unearth a small glass orb, a speck of shadow dominating its center. He picked up the orb and held it out.
"Let the Master hear."
The shadow in the orb grew outwards until it filled the space, turning the glass pitch black. Then a pair of glowing blue dots emerged, reminiscent of a certain sorcerer's eyes.
"Well?" said the voice of the Master.
"Everything went as planned, milord," said the scout, keeping his voice low. "Triton's heading for Abyssum as we speak, and his captain's taking a handful of mermen to Eel Ectric City while the crab fetches the rest of the army."
"Just as Morgana predicted," the Master said. "That witch is finally proving useful."
"What are your orders?" asked the scout.
The blue lights flickered in the orb. A shadowy tendril snaked out of it and formed a ring in the sand, filling in to become a black void on the ocean floor.
"You've done well," said the Master. "And will be rewarded for it. Use this to join with the rest of your brethren. The attack is already underway."
The scout grinned wickedly, hoping this reward was some squirming human for a snack. "Wouldn't miss it for the seven seas."
The blue lights faded out of the orb, which then collapsed on itself and disappeared. The sharkanian sloughed off his disguise and threw it and the telescope into the portal before following after. The portal hissed as he swam through then closed up and vanished.
Twelve hours ago…
Skipjack Albacore, or Skip as his friends called him, was bored. Really bored. Incredibly bored. Mind-bogglingly bored. He was the sort of bored humans experience when they sit in a boring class staring at their desks, wondering how many times they would have to smack their heads on it to end their insufferable boredom. He had never been so bored in his life unless he counted yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that. Come to think of it, he had been bored since starting his first assignment with the Atlantican army.
As a gate guard at Abyssum, the most secure prison in the oceans.
Skip, like all new guards, quickly learned that Abyssum was far from ordinary. Unlike the prisoners at Sandbar Prison or in the Atlantican dungeons, those sent here were not the sorts deserving a slap on the wrist or a brief stay behind bars to reminisce on their wrongdoing. Abyssum's residents were the worst the oceans had to offer–murderers, traitors, gangsters, bandits, assassins, practitioners of black magic, and those who tried to take over or topple Atlantica. No small number was destined never to see the sun again, spared their lives only by Atlantican's disdain for capital punishment. The guards said the deeper a prisoner's cell was inside Abyssum, the deeper into the Pit they were destined to fall.
Holding such a hazardous collection of criminals required a special kind of prison, and it did not get much more special or secure than Abyssum. Built inside an extinct underwater volcano, it was a maze of lava tubes, caverns, hollows, and grottos through which molten magma once flowed. Escape was deemed impossible both by those who prevented it and those who attempted it. It was easy to become disoriented in the tunnels. No shortage of fresh recruits and escapees ended up hopelessly lost, only to be found days later hungry and spooked. And even if an escapee could find their way while sneaking past the veritable army of guards, there was only one way in or out of Abyssum. That was through the main gates, a pair of enormous stone slabs hewn from the mountain that required twenty mermen each to open. After that there were still never less than thirty guards armed with lantern fish, spears, and the gate's natural illumination from a concentration of glowshells and red sun crystals to contend with. Suffice to say, no one had ever escaped from Abyssum. Had Undertow been kept here instead of at Sandbar Prison, he would not be in Maelstrom's ranks at that moment.
But none of this mattered to Skip as much as Abyssum's location, which was where the prison got its name from. It was not just out of the way from Atlantica. It was out of the way from everything, even the sun. Located thousands of feet down at the bottom of the ocean, Abyssum was cast in perpetual night. Midday on the surface was midnight down here. The guards had to rely on other means for illumination. Being so far down also made Abyssum too far away for frequent trips to Atlantica. It was an eight-hour swim to the great city, and that was with minimal stops and a brisk pace. The only real traffic Abyssum saw was when food and prisoners came in or freed prisoners were released, which was almost never.
Skip swished his fin grumpily at a mound of black volcanic sand. When the young merman enlisted in the Atlantican army he had not envisioned himself being stuck on door duty. He hoped to be transformed from the simple son of kelp farmers into a brave dashing hero like Captain Urchin or Apollo or even King Triton himself. He dreamed of single handedly fighting off sea monsters, swooping in to save defenseless mermaids from marauding sharks, and leading charges against hordes of sharkanian and anemone bandits. That would inevitably lead to him earning distinctions, promotions, admiration from his peers, a command of his own, a parade, a statue in the market plaza to celebrate his heroics, and the affections of beautiful young mermaids, including a certain one he had yet to meet but would definitely become his wife and bear him five children. Maybe six. No more than seven.
But instead of living out his fantasies Skip found himself on watch outside the prison's enormous gates with a mixed company of mermen, swordfish, and lantern fish staring out into the darkness. Each gate towered thirty feet above him, their surfaces peppered with those fiery sun crystals and rimmed by glowshells that emitted an orange-red light, harkening back to the ancient days when the mountain still spewed molten rock. The lights illuminated a wide radius around the gates, revealing the barren black sand of the abyssal sea floor. The lantern fish gave off a contrasting pale blue light from their bioluminescent appendages, brightening a small space around them as they swam patrols.
"Sand dollar for your thoughts, kid?" asked the merman next to him, noticing Skip flicking his fins sourly as a lantern fish passed overhead. Skip had already forgotten the guard's name.
"A hundred if it gets me out of this place," he muttered, stirring up a small cloud of silt.
The guard chuckled, understanding the new addition's disappointment. He had once been a fresh recruit himself, so he understood Skip's dour mood. "Ah, it's not so bad. Nice and peaceful out here. You'll get used to the dark after a while. Not like you're gonna be stuck here forever, unlike those sponge-brains back in there. How long you been here, anyway?"
"Two weeks."
"How long you here for?"
"Two years."
The guard's eyes went even wider than those of a lantern fish that stopped to listen in. "Whoa! Two years!? Who'd you drown to get that?"
"Myself if I have to stay here that long," Skip groaned, wringing his spear and tilting his head back in despair. He missed being able to look up and see the sun. "I thought they'd have us fighting sharkanians or hunting down those sea witches when I signed up! Instead I end up stuck out in the middle of nowhere! Nothing exciting goes on! When do we see some action?"
"Hey, dull's a lot better than action with this lot!" cut in the lantern fish. "Last thing we need is a jailbreak! Even one of these fish gets out and you'll get more excitement than you can shake a scale at, kid! I promise you that!"
"And a little advice from me to you," said the guard as he leaned in. "Better not let the warden catch you saying stuff like that. He's not known for slacking on discipline. You'll be scrubbing scum off walls for a week if he catches current of that sort of talk."
Skip gulped. He had almost forgotten about Abyssum's other noteworthy feature. The prison was commanded by none other than–.
"Hey, Nord!" shouted a swordfish above the entrance.
The lantern fish looked up. "What?"
"I think I saw movement out there! How about you and your buddies give us a light show?"
"How far out?"
"Eighty…no, a hundred feet. Maybe more."
"Probably Glut looking for a bite again!" yelled up the guard. "Either that or you're seeing things!"
Glut was an ancient great white shark that frequented the waters around Abyssum. While all merfolk had a general fear of sharks due to their fondness for mer-meat, Glut was too far past his prime to be a threat. He was already well over sixty when he tried to turn a certain red-haired princess and her fishy friend into his next meal. He was well beyond the lifespan of most great whites now, and as such had neither the energy nor health to go after such speedy prey. He made Abyssum his hunting grounds, feeding on the food scraps the prison threw away and whatever else he could find down in the deep. Occasionally the door guards caught a glimpse of his twenty-five-foot frame when he swam in range of their lights, but he never made a move against them.
"Just shine for me, will you?" pressed the swordfish.
"All right, all right! Don't get your nose bent!"
The lantern fish closed his eyes, grunting as he concentrated. His species' namesake began to glow brighter, forcing Skip and the other guard to shield their eyes. For such little fish, these bioluminescent swimmers could put on quite a light show.
"Lights on, everyone!" shouted the merguard. The other lantern fish stopped and did the same. One by one their lights began glowing brighter, driving back the darkness of the deep. The sea floor appeared before them, a gently downward sloping plane of black sand and silt all the way to the edge of the shadows a hundred feet out. Bits of detritus hung in the water like a snowfall in slow motion. It was an eerie, quiet emptiness.
Skip peered into the dark like everyone else, trying to spot what the swordfish might have seen. He scanned for any motion, notably the torpedo shape of a shark or another dweller of the abyss. But he saw nothing, silent save for a faint whistling noise.
The guard arched his head up to the swordfish. "I don't see anything! Are you sure you s–?"
He was cut off when a pair of black metal spikes struck him in the head.
Suddenly the water came alive with the whistling of dozens of black spikes shooting out from the dark, each finding its mark in one of the gate guards. One by one the lantern fish went dark as they were snuffed out. Skip saw the one above him lose its light to a spike before another hit between its eyes, pinning it to the gate. Up above a swordfish was struck three times, leaving a red trail in the water as it tumbled to the ocean floor. Another guard was suddenly pinned to the gate by a spike through his arm, his voice cut off as five more found his head and chest.
Skip was too shocked to sound the alarm. Training never could have prepared him for seeing someone die. His mouth hung open in disbelief, fixed on the dead eyes of the mermen and fish looking back at him.
A sharp snap and flash of red flickered in the darkness. A spike bristling with red lightning struck Skip square in his shoulder. Instantly he collapsed with convulsions, the spear slipping from his grasp as the electricity wreaked havoc with his nerves. He had never known this sort of pain. His whole body alternated between dead limpness and tetanic rigidity with agonizing frequency. His voice locked up as his spine arched so hard he thought it might break. He could barely even think through the overwhelming pain and shock.
It ended in seconds. The electricity dissipated, leaving Skip capable of little more than moving his eyes and twitching as the pain faded. He looked up, seeing the rest of the gate guard riddled with black spikes. Some lay dead on the sea floor, while others had been pinned against the rock like a macabre insect collection. He was the only one still alive.
Tsh…tsh…tsh…tsh…
Skip swiveled his eyes to the source of the sound. Out of the darkness appeared a shadowy figure, barely illuminated by the glow of the shells and crystals. As it came closer the noise grew louder. Details began to appear on the figure as it drew nearer to the light.
The first thing that struck skip was that it was definitely a female. The gentle curve in her waist and the slight sway of her hips in each step spoke to that. She was clothed in a long hooded coat of such a dark shade of blue it was almost black. The lower half billowed out like a cloak, transitioning into a tight-fitting corset around her middle with gold lacing up the front. The corset became flowing sleeves and a hood above, leaving her sternum and collarbones uncovered. The hem of her hood and sleeves were embroidered with golden tribal designs. Her face was hidden behind a smiling gold mask, a long braid of blonde hair falling down to her bare feet.
Skip managed a surprised grunt in his immobilized state. Legs! She had legs! And feet! She was human! That sound he heard was footsteps! But this was the bottom of the ocean! A human would drown long before they made it down this far, not to mention what the pressure would do to them!
"Surprised to see a human down here, fish-boy?" asked the woman, picking up on the merman's bewilderment. She waved a hand and the spikes shattered into silvery metallic splinters, flying up her sleeves and under the trail of her coat. The dead guards, deprived of anything to hold them up, fell to the sea floor in a heap. The spike in Skip's shoulder, however, did not break. Instead it was yanked painfully by an invisible force, flipping him over to face the gates before shattering. He would have cried out if he could.
The woman walked up to the gates, kicking aside the body of a swordfish. She let out a low whistle as she surveyed the massive stone barriers, rapping it with her knuckle. "Now that's what I call doors! I see why they called this place impenetrable!"
She drew back her right sleeve. Attached to her forearm was something that resembled a metal crab. Gears and cogs moved about inside it, producing sounds like clockwork.
"Good thing I brought a key then." She pulled the device off and began fiddling with something on its underside. Sparks flew off her fingertips as she worked. A crystal inside it began to glow red as the inner workings came to life, legs clawing frantically in the water.
Whatever this thing was, Skip was as sure it was bad news as he was this woman was an ally of Morgana and Ursula. She had witch written all over from her mask to her toes. He tried to grab for his spear, but his arms refused to obey him. All he could do was twitch about, groaning and grunting with effort.
The witch saw the lone survivor trying to move and chuckled darkly. "That's right! You merfolk don't have machines, do you?"
She walked over and planted a foot on his chest, pressing him into the sand and restricting his ability to breathe. She brought the mechanical crab towards his face, the legs a hair's breadth from clawing his skin.
"Beautiful, isn't it? A project of mine for when the war really gets going. Packs a nasty bite. See this part here?" she said, pointing to the glowing center of the device. "That's where the magic happens. All I do is add my own power to it and…well, I'll just show you."
The witch removed her foot from Skip's sternum, allowing him to breathe. His relief from pain was short lived as she grabbed his neck and dragged him towards the gate. She stopped in front of it and dropped him before seizing his hair, pulling him up to face the mountain. A burst of red electricity ran down her arm and into the mechanical crab. The crystal core turned a deep crimson and began pulsing with light, the glow growing brighter and the pulses faster. The woman pressed it against the gate and the legs bit deep into the stone, holding it in place. She stepped back as it began emitting a low hum that quickly gained in pitch, dragging Skip with her.
"Won't be long now," said the woman as she tossed him aside.
The flashes were going too fast for Skip to keep track of now, threads of lightning running up and down the machine's legs. He had a terrible feeling something bad was about to happen.
The witch chuckled and held up her fingers. "Showtime."
Snap.
Fast as Skip could blink a beam of red light shot straight out from the machine's core then was sucked back in. The gates turned bright red and exploded inwards with a deafening boom, blasting the inside with a shower of rock shards, sand, and silt. The shockwave sent Skip tumbling away. The witch remained in place, holding her hood up with one hand as the gates collapsed into gravel piles.
She smirked, reveling in the sounds of pain and chaos coming from inside. "Not bad for a test model. More screaming would've been better, but not bad at all."
She turned to Skip, his eyes wide with fear as she approached. His function was starting to return, and he was putting it towards reaching for the business end of a broken spear. She stopped him when she stomped hard on his hand. He would have yelled, but in his state he could only manage a strangled groan. She crouched down, shifting her weight painfully onto his hand.
"Aren't you a resilient one?" she said softly, running a finger delicately along his jaw. His eyes followed her hand like it was a venomous snake. "Don't get too terrified now. Leave some fear for later. And if you're worried about dying then today's your lucky day. I've got a job for you, which makes you more useful to me alive. Shouldn't be a problem for a young, strapping merman who'd like to keep his life."
She leaned in close to his face. He could just make out a pair eyes behind the mask, and the faintest traces of a smiling mouth. Maybe it was his imagination, but her eyes were two different shades of blue. "Here's what's gonna happen. You swim to Atlantica, and you swim fast. You find Triton and tell him Abyssum's under attack and Eel-Ectric City is next. Do it, and maybe I won't come finish you off after I'm done here. Got it?"
Skip blinked rapidly and grunted, hoping that would communicate his understanding to her. He had no intention of trying heroic refusal or cleverness, or figuring out her purpose here. This woman would kill him if he gave her any reason. No, she would kill him without a reason. She was that crazy.
"Good boy," she said, lightly patting his face. "But first..."
She suddenly seized his neck with frightening strength, hauling him upright to dangle from her choking grasp. "Call me old fashioned, but when a lady arrives you're supposed to announce her. So hurry up and announce. Or call for help. That works too. Yes…do that instead. Call for your friends. I'm dying to meet them. Them and this warden I've heard about."
Skip could hardly move his jaw let alone speak. Her grip on his neck was so tight he could barely breathe. All he made were choking noises and jerky twitches as he tried to move again. His face was turning red as the blood flow to his head was restricted, the weight of his body pulling painfully on the base of his skull.
The witch cocked her head. "What's wrong, boy? Lost your voice?"
She held up her free hand. Red lightning started dancing around it, crackling and buzzing with growing ferocity until it looked as though she were channeling a storm. Skip could feel his skin tingle just from the proximity.
"Or maybe you need some motivation?"
The moment she clamped her hand to Skip's face was the moment his world descended into agony.
Sixteen years ago, something unbelievable happened at Abyssum.
The warden, an aging merman from the time of Triton's father–not to mention a gruff and harsh xenophobe–was forced to resign from his post when it became clear he was no longer able carry out his duties. While the change was long overdue, it had been put off for so long because of the absence of a suitable replacement. Not just anyone could be warden of Abyssum. It took a unique individual to keep the oceans' worst secure and in line.
Of course, Triton had a candidate in mind when he gave the order for the warden to step down, as did many of his advisors. There were several Atlantican officers who would have made fine wardens, including Urchin. There were also prison guards who had more than ample experience with the inner workings of the prison and were worthy of the promotion. But Triton was looking for more than just the usual qualifications. He wanted someone who not only understood how the prison worked, but how the prisoners did as well. Someone who could predict what they would do before they had the chance to act on it.
So imagine everyone's surprise when he chose one of Abyssum's most notorious inmates for the job.
The Evil Manta.
Well, the formerly Evil Manta to be precise. The once menacing trickster of the sea was not the same after Ariel saved him from having his mind sucked out by a brain sponge. It may not have taken his imagination, but the vile poriferan did take a greater portion of his evil impulses. Yes, he was still the same cunning and imposing character as before, but he no longer had an insatiable urge to spread discord and misery across the oceans. At Ariel and Little Evil's insistence he turned himself in, hoping Triton would grant him some leniency. But despite the case Ariel made for him, Triton could not bring himself to pardon Manta from his many crimes. He was sentenced to Abyssum for thirty years, his only consolation being monthly visits from his son–and a few unapproved ones from Ariel as well.
Six years later, when the former warden "retired" his position, Triton saw an opportunity to put Manta's changed ways to use. Manta might have been a prisoner, but there was no denying he was ideal for the job. He was exceptionally intelligent, had a knack for planning and organization, and was very intimidating when necessary. As a prisoner he had a unique grasp on how to keep his fellow inmates under control. That and he proved to be one of the more cooperative inmates during his stay, so much so Triton was considering moving Manta to the Atlantican dungeons. So the merking approached him with a deal–become Abyssum's warden and he would be pardoned of all his past crimes.
That was how the Evil Manta became Warden Manta, and came to be seated behind a desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a near spotless sixteen year career under his wings. It was not the same office the former warden used, as Manta's much larger frame would have been a tight fit. The stone desk was unfurnished save a clay cup filled with squid pens and a small statue of his son, now known by his pen name Alfredi and one of Atlantica's foremost artists and writers, wrapping his arms affectionately around his mute mermaid fiancé Gabriella. He was due to visit them before the week was out. Several glowshells were stuck to the ceiling, providing him with abundant light. Ten lines of chatter clams ran over the ceiling to above his seat. One of Manta's ideas for improving communication throughout the prison, the clams served as a combined messenger/security system for Abyssum. Using them messages could be transmitted from one end of the prison to the other in a fraction of the time it would take a merman to swim it, and guards could be immediately notified if a prisoner broke out of their cell.
Resting against his chair was an oversized spear with a blue crystal head. Given to Manta by Triton after five years of service, the spear was endowed with the Trident's powers of lightning, though not to a lethal extent. The worst it could do was stun a prisoner into immobility for a few hours, though it still packed enough wallop to make a kraken turn tentacle. Manta rarely used it, as his presence alone was enough to make even the rowdiest prisoner think twice about causing trouble.
A large merman with a red tail appeared at the entrance to Manta's office carrying several papers. He rapped his knuckles on the doorway to announce himself.
"You may enter, Titus," said Manta, not looking up from his work to see whom it was. He knew that knock well. Titus swam in, undeterred by Manta's naturally chilling tone after listening to it for so many years.
"The papers for the newest prisoners, warden," he said as he placed them on the desk. "As you requested."
"Ah, good. Very good," said Manta, setting his work aside to skim through the documents. "Any troubles putting them in their cells?"
"No more than usual. A scuffle here and there, but everyone's locked up."
Manta allowed himself a proud smirk at that. He chose his guards like he ran this prison–with great foresight and planning. The results spoke for themselves. In his sixteen years as warden Abyssum had fewer riots, breakouts, and troubles with prisoners than any one of the years prior. Part was due to his own craft for dealing with the prisoners, the rest from the quality of the guards he chose and the additional training he put them through.
"As usual," he repeated. He frowned when he picked out a page with pictures of a purple lobster and a pinkish shrimp on it. "These two again?"
"Afraid so, sir. They tried to 'takeovah' a pearl farm using a thingamajig," said Titus, making quotes with his fingers on the pitiful mobsters' signature peculiarity. "Set a new record for shortest time to break parole."
"A record they've broken eight times before," added Manta as he set the pages down and grabbed a pen to sign them. "Don't see why Triton keeps sending that scallop and his lackey back here. They're hardly worth the trouble. A couple lengths of kelp rope would be enough to hold those idiots in–."
A distant rumble cut off Manta, followed by a dull tremor that loosened silt and small bits of rock from the ceiling and walls. The statue of his son and future daughter-in-law danced precariously to the edge of his desk and fell off, saved from smashing on the floor when he caught it with his tail.
"What in the name of Neptune's beard was that?" said Titus.
They got their answer when a line of chatter clams started chattering away. "Message! Message from the gates! Emergency! Emergency!"
"What's going on!?" demanded Manta.
"Intruder!" jabbered the clams. "Intruder at gates! Guards dead! Many dead! All dead!"
Manta slammed his fists down as he shot out of his seat, causing the papers, pens, and Titus to jump as the desk cracked. "What!?"
"Gates gone! All gone!" said the clams in unison. "Blown away! Blasted away! Boomed away! Magic! Big magic! Bad magic!"
"That's impossible!" shouted Titus. "Those doors are impenetrable! Only the trident would have enough power to do that!"
"No! Not Triton! Not trident! Witch! Witch at the gate!"
One word stood out to Manta. "Witch? You said witch! Who's attacking!? Is it Ursula!? Morgana!?"
"No! New witch! Gold mask! No fins! No tentacles! Witch is a–!"
"EEEEYYYAAAAAAHHH! AHHHH! AHHHHH!"
The most bloodcurdling screams Manta ever heard came echoing through the lava tubes. He was proficient in recognizing screams. He could recognize one of fright from one of sorrow or excitement. But this was neither. This was a scream of indescribable agony, like someone having his or her fingers crushed one at a time. Someone was being tortured to death.
"Inside!" cried the clams. "She's inside! Witch is inside! Human is inside!"
Manta's eyes widened. "What!? A human!?"
"How can that be!?" asked Titus. "It's more than a thousand fathoms to the surface! She should've drowned before she got anywhere near us!"
The screaming stopped, only to renew as the attacker claimed another victim. Another rumble sounded, loosening more silt from the ceiling.
Manta grabbed his spear, his eyes glowing with anger. "I don't care who she is or how she got here! This mountain is my command, and I won't have it overrun by some black magic crone!" He reached up and pulled a line of clams off the wall. "Send the word out! All guards are to fall back to the caldera! If she releases any prisoners, let them be! Do not attempt to fight her! We'll deal with this ratfish on our terms, not hers!"
He clenched the spear tight as he swam out, the crystal head crackling with white sparks as the clams relayed his orders down the line. "I will not allow this slaughter to continue! Mark my words, this witch will regret coming here!"
It was chaos as Manta and Titus entered the caldera.
Once the roiling infernal heart of the volcano, the massive magma chamber now served as the yard of Abyssum. The chamber was a thousand feet across and just as deep. The walls were lined with a honeycomb of jail cells, lava tubes, and veins of fire and sun crystals, giving it an igneous ambience. The vent to the surface had been sealed with rock when the mountain's fire died. Prisoners were allowed out of their cells into here to stretch their fins, claws, tentacles, or whatever they used to swim about. Manta carefully picked which prisoners could be allowed out at the same time to prevent fighting and riots.
Right then there may as well have been a riot. Mermen, swordfish, and all other manner of guards were flowing like ants into the heart of the mountain as the clams chattered in the background. Meanwhile the prisoners were sending up a din, demanding to know what was happening or just wanting to harass the guards in any way they could. The guards were forming a tiered ring in the center, watching the tubes for signs of the attacker.
The din died considerably when Manta and Titus descended, swooping down to the bottom. Even in this situation the presence of Manta commanded the prisoner's fear if not their respect. A guard swam up to him and saluted as he reached the chamber floor.
"What's the situation?" asked Manta.
"The intruder's broken through the third ring!" said the guard. "She's obliterated every obstacle we put up in front of her! We've been trying to hinder her but–!"
"No, wait! Stop! Please do–AAAAAHHHH!"
The scream carried down into the cavernous hollow like an amplifier, echoing off the stones. Moments later a badly wounded guard swam out of one of the lower tubes amidst the screams, going several feet before collapsing into the floor.
"Get a doctor down here now!" shouted Manta as the guards quickly worked to get their comrade up and surround the tube. His face was red and swollen, blood leaking from cuts above his eye and a split lip. A hand-shaped wound on his chest was peeling and black, his muscles twitching uncontrollably.
"What happened?" demanded Manta.
"She…she broke through the fourth ring!" croaked the guard. "She's too strong!"
"Where's the rest of the guard!?"
The guard hacked violently before answering. "They didn't make it."
Suddenly there was a flash and an explosion from the tube the injured guard exited, sending out a cloud of silt and gravel that forced the guards to cover their eyes. They coughed as the silt filled the water, scratching their throats and stinging their eyes.
"Formations!" barked Manta, training his spear on the tube. "Weapons ready and wait for my command!"
As one the guards converged around the lava tube in a half circle, fanning out till their ranks had formed a wall. Every spear, sword, and sharpened bill in the chamber was trained on the entrance, awaiting the arrival of the intruder. Manta positioned himself in the middle of them, keeping his spear pointed at the cloud as Titus joined the ranks.
It went quiet save the continued hounding from the prisoners. Everyone watched the silt begin to settle with bated breath, unsure what would be coming. The ominous swirling cloud made them nervous and fidgety, questioning their ability to confront whatever was headed their way.
"Steady…" said Manta.
A shadow appeared in the silt, moving slowly towards the guards.
"On guard!" ordered Titus. The guards quickly followed their captain's example, readying themselves for a fight mentally and physically as the shadow grew closer. The tip of Manta's spear began to glow brighter, producing a low hum as the power built within.
The shadow emerged from the silt. It was a merman.
Manta lowered his spear. "Hold! It's one of ours!"
The merman swam out of the cloud weaponless and dazed. He was covered in silt and gashes all over, leaving a trail of red behind him. His lips moved as he tried to speak, eyes staring blankly ahead. He lifted a shaky arm out to them, and Manta saw he was missing a hand.
"M…m…mon...ster..." stammered the merman dazedly.
Suddenly a chain shot forth from one of the lava tubes and wrapped around the merman's neck. There was a buzzing sound before red electricity came coursing down the chain and lit him up like a firework. He spasmed violently and screamed as though his fins were being pulled apart, causing all the guards to swim back. His skin and scales began to turn black, spreading insidiously over him before cracking and flaking away. The black reached his face, freezing it forever in an expression of agony before he crumbled into silt, the chain rapidly retreating into the tube.
"Another one bites the dust," said a female voice.
From out of the tube came a woman wearing a gold mask. Manta saw the last links of chain crawl up the sleeve of her cloak like a snake, rattling as it retreated. The woman walked calmly towards the wall of guards but stopped when he sent a blast of white lightning into her path, scorching the floor in front of her.
"Stay where you are, witch!" he shouted. The other guards quickly moved to surround her, spears and swords trained and ready but confidence shaken. Many were still trying to wrap their heads around seeing a human at the bottom of the sea, or the agonized death of their comrade.
"Looks like you went all out to greet me." The woman chuckled, scratching the scorch mark with her toe as she surveyed the surrounding guards. "You sure know how to make a lady feel welcome."
"Who are you?" demanded Manta.
"Remora, vice-commander and second seat of Maelstrom." She wiped her hands together before flicking a bit of sand off her sleeve. "Don't bother introducing yourself. I already know about you, Evil Manta."
"That's Warden Manta to you," snapped Manta.
"I know." Remora bent down and picked up a remnant of the electrocuted guard, crumbling the carbonized remains between her fingers. "Evil Manta doesn't fit you any more. Not since that brain sponge got ahold of you. We can blame Ariel for that, and your son for you winding up here."
"Put up your hands and surrender!" ordered Titus.
"Now you're playing jail-sitter with this lot in the name of 'peace and justice,'" she continued, saying the last part as though it left a vile taste in her mouth. "Tch! Pathetic! You get your brain sucked off by one mangy sponge and become a guard dog to watch his junk heap! Warden Mongrel's more like it, because you're nothing but Triton's trained bitch now!"
Manta had no idea what a guard dog was, but he new an insult when he heard one. "Lucky for you we have no brain sponges here! Otherwise I'd let one have a go at you to fix that mouth of yours! But we have more than enough cells for you! Now raise your hands and surrender!"
Remora started examining her fingernails. "Considering your stone fort couldn't keep me out, I don't see how it or your fish could do any better keeping me in."
Manta aimed his spear at her head and fired another blast. It zipped by her cheek, striking the tunnel and sending a wave of electricity racing down it. Remora did not even flinch.
"You're trying my patience, witch!" hissed Manta. "The next one won't miss! Surrender now and you'll stand trial in Atlantica, in which case you'll face life in prison but survive! Don't and we'll subdue you by force, in which case I won't guarantee your life!"
"Really? That's the best you can do? 'Surrender now and I'll spare your life?'" she said, doing a mock impression of the warden. She gave a loud snort. "You've fallen, Manta. Wasn't too long ago you would've threatened my life right from the start. You used to be one of the great terrors of the seas. These talking sushi-platters trembled at your name. Now not even your shadow scares them."
Manta's spear began to glow brighter. "This is your last warning! Surrender now or else–!"
Metal shards flew to Remora's hands as she crossed her arms, forming knives between her fingers. She flung her arms wide and sent them flying, striking six mermen in the head before bursting to send shrapnel shooting out. More than a dozen guards fell dead in the sand with an equal number wounded beside them.
"I'll take or else!" Remora spat. "Now cut the small talk and come at me!"
Manta's eyes glowed as his spear came to life. "Take her down!"
The head of his spear flashed as another bolt flew out, this time straight at Remora. She jumped out of the way as metal shards started flying out of her sleeves. At the same time the fragments of her knives returned to her, joining with the shards to form a pair of swords. She landed and ran at the guards, spinning to parry away a swarm of spears that tried to skewer her before leaping into them and landing on the shoulders of a merman, skewering him in the neck as she ran another through his chest.
Their momentary surprise at her leap cost them. Remora leapt off the dead merman and began jumping about between the guards, her swords moving in a whirling dance of steel and blood as she slew anyone within her reach. A merman tried to spear her through the stomach, only for her to cut his weapon in half and slash him across the eyes. She jammed her foot into his neck and launched herself at a swordfish, her own swords finding its gills and dorsal fin. She kicked off its body and parried a merman's sword away then swung her other sword up through his wrists. She spun around and stabbed backwards, taking him through the gut before she darted at another merman and cut across his neck.
The crackle of electricity reached her ears. She looked back to see Manta send another shot her way. She smiled under her mask as she leapt to dodge the bolt. She sailed at a pair of guards, stabbing through their shoulders before ripping her swords free as violently as possible, turning the water murky red.
Manta fired another blast at her, but she darted away so it instead struck an unlucky guard. It may not have killed him, but he would not be moving anytime soon. Remora slammed her foot onto the head of another merman, sending a blast of electricity through him and launching herself at the caldera wall. Sparks danced from her feet as she landed beside an imprisoned male cilophyte's cell in a crouch. Instead of falling off she stuck to the stone like a spider, slashing open the back of a guard who reacted too late.
The imprisoned cilophyte slid his tentacles out and wrapped her legs. "I've got her! Get–augh!"
A slash of Remora's swords severed the cilophyte's tentacles cleanly before she grabbed one and pulled him into the bars and her blade. "Get your tentacles off me, stinkin' squid!"
"Surround her! Don't let her get away!" shouted one of the guards. Four quickly swarmed around Remora, trying to pierce her with spears and swords as more joined. Remora parried, blocked, and slashed away at them, keeping her attackers at bay as she fought her way up the wall with murderous grace and speed.
"Come on!" she shouted, parrying away a merman's thrust behind her back before spinning around to slice down his tail. "Is this the best you can do? Don't fight me! Kill me! I want you going for the throat!"
A merman thrust his spear at her, only to have her dodge to the side and slit his throat. The merman behind him learned how strong her legs were when she turned and kicked him in the chest, sending him hurtling down to the bottom. Two spears came for her, failing to strike flesh when she parried them up and slew their wielders.
Manta kept his eyes trained on her, observing her movements. He could already tell his guards were out of their league trying to take her head on. This human was not an experienced fighter. She was an experienced killer. Taking a life was as easy to her as snapping her fingers. If he let this keep going, they would only lose more to her swords. He needed to disable her long enough for his men to subdue her, and for that he needed to land a shot on her. Considering how easily she was dodging his lighting, that was going to take cunning.
Fortunately for Manta, cunning was his specialty. He made a circling motion with his right hand and whistled, indicating his intention to the guards. The training he put them through paid off when they immediately backed away from Remora, leaving her exposed on the wall. Manta aimed and fired another bolt. Remora back flipped and dodged along the wall as he sent bolt after bolt at her, gouging divots into the rock. He aimed high in anticipation of her next move, but she avoided again by leaping out into the caldera.
Remora realized her mistake as she watched Manta follow her with his spear then adjust his aim out in front of her. In midair or midwater and with the guards staying clear she had no way to change direction. He tricked her into becoming a target.
DOOM! The bolt caught Remora dead center before she landed, sending her rolling head over heels covered with white electricity. She settled far from her swords as the guards made a wide circle around her. Even with the electricity coursing through her she still managed to stand up, only to see Manta fire another bolt at her. It struck her right in the face, dislodging her mask as she went tumbling back before skidding facedown to a stop. Her hood fell forward, covering her head as she groaned.
"She's down! Capture her now!" ordered Titus. He and the guards quickly rushed in as Remora groggily pushed herself up, revealing the lower portion of her face.
In the light of the crystals Manta saw her smile. The cold, vicious, wicked smile of a monster that sent chills down his spine.
A wave of dread washed over the warden as her swords shattered. "Stop! Belay that order! Get away from her!"
It was too late. Titus and the guards were devoted to the attack as the metal shards flew into Remora's hands, forming a long staff as more shards emerged from her robes. The mermen had only begun to slow their charge when Remora's new weapon finished forming.
It was a scythe.
Manta was able to see the terror on Titus' face before Remora gave a maniacal yell and spun in place, literally scything through the merman and his fellow guards like strands of kelp. They all disappeared in a cloud of red amidst their dying screams. Another spin and their cries were silenced by sickening slicing sounds and a glint of metal in the red.
All activity in the caldera stopped. The prisoners stopped their jeering. The guards stopped swimming. Manta stopped breathing. Every pair of eyes was glued to the swirling crimson cloud, appalled by the barbaric brutality with which the guards were dispatched. Manta was too shocked to even think of new orders, unable to tear his gaze away from that last image of his now murdered captain.
Then the laughter started.
It was quiet at first, merely chuckles. But it began to grow, both in volume, fervor, and insanity. Soon it was hysterical cackling, echoing throughout the chamber like the voice of a devil, making all that heard it tremble with fear. Even Manta felt it clawing at the corners of his mind, scratching into his confidence.
Suddenly the gold mask shot into the cloud as though it were thrown. The red dispersed, revealing the witch as she finished refitting the deceptively cheerful visage. She threw her head back as she continued to laugh, red lightning dancing up all over her body.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!" she screamed. "That's it! That's what I want! That rush! That smell of blood! Those dying screams! You can't imagine how long I've waited for this!"
She laughed again and twirled her scythe overhead, lightning jumping down from it and reducing the guard's remains to pulverized silt. The guards backed away in earnest now, terrified by the horrible aura of madness and bloodlust coming off the witch. They could feel her power in the water, prickling their skin like a thousand needles.
"Give me more!" she shouted, spinning the scythe above her head before bringing it to rest over her shoulder. "I want more! I need more! More screams! More fear! More blood to spill! More limbs to chop! More necks to sever! More maiming! More killing! I! Want! MORE!"
The last shout snapped Manta out of his daze. He leveled his spear at Remora and shot again, loosing an even stronger lightning bolt than before.
Instead of dodging Remora allowed it to strike her. But instead of knocking her down she skidded backwards, her feet digging into the sand and stopping her. The red and white bolts danced on her with even more fervor than before. She alarmed Manta even more when she simply cricked her neck and rotated her shoulders, the lightning dwindling to nothing. She had just taken a bolt that could lay out a merman twice her size, yet she was completely unfazed.
"You call that lightning?" she said, raising her scythe overhead. "That barely tickled!"
Lightning climbed up her weapon, coalescing into a red crackling orb at the top. A red aura formed around her as the electricity began to dance over her with even greater vigor, growing in volume and strength. Bits of loose rock and sand began lifting off the floor around her, her blonde braid waving about in the water. The lightning grew rapidly, jumping off her to the ground and walls. Several bolts reached out to guard's spears and swords, causing the unfortunates to drop their weapons as their palms burned. One struck the tip of Manta's spear, sending out a shower of red and white sparks and numbing his hands.
"Watch closely, Manta!" called Remora as the lightning reached its peak. The less brave of the guards turned and fled into the tunnels, hoping to find a modicum of safety in the stones. "This is how you use lightning!"
The magic went mad. Dozens of red lightning bolts burst from the orb, branching and striking wildly as Remora poured her power into it. Rock exploded where the bolts struck, ripping apart jail cells and disintegrating their occupants and anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in their path. Others went for the tunnels, reducing the fleeing guards to black charred corpses before caving in the passages. The other guards broke formation, desperately trying to avoid the lethal sorcery. A bolt came at Manta, striking the staff of his spear and throwing him back into the wall. His arms went numb from the shock, the red electricity racing up and down the spear.
Then it was over. The lightning flickered out of existence, the aura fading off Remora as she lowered her scythe. Manta felt the feeling return to his arms as pushed off the wall. Silt clouds fell as the last rocks crumbled, cries of the wounded, dying and frightened more abundant than before.
Remora ran a finger along her scythe, shuddering in delight as she felt the edge against her skin. "Ooh, that felt good! I haven't let loose like that in months! Does wonders for my stress! And believe me, I get plenty dealing with those insufferable calamari sisters!"
A chill ran through Manta. Abyssum was lost. They had to retreat. It was suicide to stay here. This witch was far beyond what Morgana or Ursula were capable of, in both power and evil. She might even be a match for Triton. Another blast like that and they would all die. Two and she could collapse the caldera.
"Retreat!" shouted Manta. "Fall back to the gates!"
"An excellent idea," said Remora, chuckling as she swept her scythe to the walls. "As long as you can fall back through solid rock!"
Manta had never felt genuine terror before. It was a completely alien emotion to him, although he had plenty of experience with instilling it. Yet as his eyes surveyed the walls of the caldera, he knew definitively that the panicked constriction in his chest could only be terror.
The lightning did not strike as randomly as he believed. Every tunnel and tube had caved in. They were filled with thick heaping piles of rock, trapping him, the guards, and the prisoners inside the chamber. Those who survived the lightning were digging furiously at the tunnels, but their efforts only caused more rock to fall in. A pair of guards worked together to shove a large boulder out of the way, only to have an even larger one come crashing down and almost squash them.
"You should see your face, Manta," said Remora as she walked towards him. "That expression is priceless."
"You…you sealed yourself in with us," he said. "Why?"
"Wrong. I sealed you in with me. Makes it easier to carry out my orders." She laughed again, relishing the look of confusion on his face. "What, you think I'd come here for a jailbreak? You think we'd have any use for this heap of trash? These cretins you and that dried-up king call criminals aren't worth their weight in fish crap! Only thing they're good for is killing time. I'm here on my Master's orders. And my orders…"
She spotted a lobster and a shrimp burrowing as fast as they could into one of the collapsed tunnels. Her lips curled in a wicked smile as metal shards drifted out of her robes to form a pair of large black needles along the shaft of her scythe. She pointed it at the crustaceans. A chain of electricity burst down her scythe, magnetizing the weapon into a rail gun to shoot the needles like bullets. They flew faster than Manta could see, snatching the lives of the two small-time crooks before shattering apart and returning to her.
"Are to kill every last one of you!" she declared, the lightning growing on her again. "However…I…want!"
Manta knew Abyssum had its share of crazies. They were a special breed of criminal without reason or morale. Due to their unpredictable nature they were kept in the deepest cells of the prison, far from where they could cause trouble. Very few had permission or the courage to work down there. As such, he was quite familiar with what a lunatic's laugh sounded like.
As Remora threw her head back and laughed uncontrollably, she did not sound like a lunatic to him. She sounded like the most psychopathic butcher he ever heard. A deranged slayer wielding power he never knew possible, driven by her thirst for death and mayhem.
And now they were trapped inside the mountain with her.
A/N: Please be sure to favorite and/or follow if you're enjoying the story! There's still plenty to come!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Little Mermaid," Disney, or any of its associated characters and intellectual property. Everything else, however, is mine =)
