Copyright © 2015 Disney Enterprises, Inc.
Cover design by SJI Associates, Inc.
Cover photo by Tom Corbett
Cover illustration by Shane Rebenschied and Brent Ford
Maps and chapter opener illustration by Laszlo Kubinyi
All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Hyperion, 125 West End Avenue, New York, New York 10023.
ISBN 978-1-4847-1314-3
Visit WaterFireSaga.com
www.DisneyBooks.com
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Forty-Five
Forty-Six
Forty-Seven
Forty-Eight
Forty-Nine
Fifty
Fifty-One
Fifty-Two
Fifty-Three
Fifty-Four
Fifty-Five
Fifty-Six
Fifty-Seven
Fifty-Eight
Fifty-Nine
Sixty
Sixty-One
Sixty-Two
Sixty-Three
Sixty-Four
Sixty-Five
Sixty-Six
Sixty-Seven
Sixty-Eight
Acknowledgments
Glossary
Realms of the Mer
About the Author
For L.A.M.
There is no way back for me now. I am going to take you on journeys you’ve never dreamed were possible.
—Alexander McQueen
THE MERMAID’S SWORD glinted in the watery twilight of Tanner’s Deeps. She held it in front of her, both hands gripping the hilt, as she moved through the deserted village.
Tanner, whoever he was, was long gone. So was everyone else. Yet the mermaid kept her sword raised. Blacktip sharks were known to hunt along the lonely currents that swept through abandoned villages. Predators of another kind prowled them, too—looters who ransacked the houses of the disappeared for anything of value.
The mermaid was traveling back to Ondalina, her arctic home, and had seen many such villages on her way. In the Freshwaters. In Miromara, and here, in Atlantica. All were gutted and ruined. Their mer had been abducted. The few who’d managed to escape told of soldiers in black who’d come for them with weapons and cages. Where the mer had been taken, no one knew.
Satisfied no looters were near, the mermaid sheathed her sword. She was weary and night was coming with its many dangers. A small house, its door off the hinges, was directly in front of her. She entered it cautiously, startling some mackerel. The downstairs rooms showed signs of violence—an overturned table, smashed plates, toys scattered across the floor. She swam upstairs and found a room that offered her a soft, anemone-filled bed.
Weariness was etched on her face. She craved sleep, but dreaded it, too. Nightmares haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it—Abbadon, the monster. She saw it advancing on the others—Ling, Ava, Neela, Becca, and Sera—and tearing them apart.
I should have stayed with them, she thought. I should have helped them.
But they wouldn’t have wanted her help. Not once they’d learned the truth.
As she swam toward the bed, something moved behind her. She caught a blur of darkness, a pale face.
There was someone else in the room.
The mermaid spun around with the speed of a tarpon, her heart thumping in her chest, her hand on the hilt of her sword.
There was someone else there, she saw, but not in the room. He was inside a mirror that was hanging on a wall.
“Don’t be afraid, Astrid Kolfinnsdottir. I would never hurt you,” he said. “I know your secret. I know how you’ve suffered. They mock you and call you weak, yet you have the blood of the greatest mage who ever lived running through your veins. Come with me. I’ll put an end to the cruel words, the laughter. I’ll make you powerful, more powerful than any creature alive.”
The mermaid eyed him warily. He was human. His face was obscured by shadows. But she could see that at his neck, a flawless black pearl hung from a chain.
“How do you know my name? Who are you?” she demanded.
The man replied by offering his hand. It pushed through the silvered glass and hovered in the water—a question instead of an answer.
The mermaid’s fins prickled, but she ignored her fear. Something about him drew her closer, something as powerful as the tides.
She lifted her hand to his. As she did, she glimpsed her own reflection in the glass. And beyond it, the man’s face, no longer in the shadows. For an instant, his eyes—as black and bottomless as the Abyss—became her own.
In terror, she slammed her tail fin into the mirror and shattered it. As the pieces rained down, the mermaid bolted from the room.
She swam as fast as she could. Out of the house, away from the village. Into the cold, dark waters of the night.
SERAFINA DI MERROVINGIA, rightful regina of Miromara, cocked her crossbow.
“Shoot to kill,” she ordered.
Twenty-five Black Fin fighters nodded in unison, then fanned out, their camo blending in with the weedy rock face at the base of Miromara’s royal palace. Casting a last glance at the dark waters above her, Sera turned and headed for a tunnel in the rock. Her uncle’s soldiers rarely patrolled this lonely part of the palace grounds, but she could afford no surprises tonight.
THE TRAITORS’ GATE, read the ancient words carved over the tunnel’s entrance. Enemies of Miromara had been brought to the dungeons through this passageway for thousands of years, until it had been permanently locked during an unprecedented era of peace and then forgotten. The irony was not lost on Sera. The real traitors were inside the palace—her uncle Vallerio; his new wife, Portia Volnero; and their daughter, Lucia. They’d assassinated Sera’s mother, Regina Isabella, and stolen the throne.
A few yards into the tunnel, darkness gave way to the light of a portable lava globe, hung on the wall by one of the Black Fins. Its glow played over Sera, revealing a mermaid very different from the one who’d lived in the palace not too long ago.
Sera cut a commanding figure now—strong, straight-backed, and sure of herself. Muscles rippled
in her arms and tail. Her hair, dyed black, was cut pixie-short so no enemy could grab it and hold her back, as the Mirror Lord once had. As all Black Fins did, she wore a short military jacket of dark blue with black trim to honor Cerulea, the capital of Miromara. A dagger rested at her hip. The doubt and hesitance that had clouded her green eyes were gone; a dangerous new light burned in them.
Up ahead, Sera saw a tall iron gate crusted with barnacles. Four young mermen were furiously sawing at its bars, muscles straining in their backs and arms. Iron repelled magic, so no songspells could be used to break or liquefy the metal.
She lowered her weapon. “How much longer, Yaz?” she asked one of the mermen.
“Five minutes max,” Yazeed replied. “We’re almost through.”
He was her second-in-command, and this had been his idea. Sera remembered when he and Luca, another fighter, had come swimming into the Black Fins’ headquarters at four one morning, whooping and laughing.
“Look what we found!” Yaz had crowed.
He’d unrolled an ancient kelp parchment and placed it on the table in the safe house. Serafina and the rest of the Black Fins had gathered around.
“It’s the original building plan for the palace. Complete with the entire network of lava pipes,” Yaz had explained, rubbing his hands together. “This run of pipe”—he’d pointed to a thick black line drawn in squid ink—“carried lava from the seam underneath the palace to the west wing. It was supposed to have been removed two centuries ago, when the treasury vaults were moved from the Grande Corrente to the palace.”
Luca had jumped in. “But it never was!” he said, unrolling a second parchment. “These are the plans for the relocated treasury vaults. They couldn’t place them close to lava pipes because if the pipes broke, the lava would melt the walls, leaving the treasure vulnerable. So a new run of pipe was laid—well below the vaults. The old pipes were only closed off, not demolished.”
“Everything’s still there!” Yaz had said gleefully. “The pipes, the diverter, even the shutoff valve. Only a foot of rock separates the old pipe from the treasury. All we have to do is break the pipe, open the old valve, let the lava burn through the rock—”
“—and we’re in the vaults!” Sera had interrupted, excitedly slapping tails with him.
“But how do we get inside the palace in the first place?” Neela—Sera’s best friend, Yazeed’s sister, and now a Black Fin, too—had asked.
“The old Traitors’ Gate on the north side of the palace. It’s at the bottom of the seamount and it’s overgrown by seaweed. It’ll give us plenty of cover,” Luca had replied.
Sera had known about the Traitors’ Gate, but she’d been amazed to learn about the network of old lava pipes. Clearly she’d missed much during her days as a pampered princess. Songcasting, school, and her mother’s endless lectures had filled her hours. These things were important, but they didn’t get one into the treasury vaults—cunning and daring did.
“When do we go?” Neela had asked.
“As soon as I can get Mahdi to throw a party—a big one, with a lightworks show,” Yaz had replied.
“I don’t follow,” Neela had said. “Why do we need a party? And lightworks?”
“Because when we divert lava off the main line, the pressure in the palace will drop. Any lights on that line will flicker. Lavaplaces will fizzle. Someone’s bound to notice and become suspicious.”
“So Mahdi cuts the lights for the show and nobody’s the wiser!” Neela had exclaimed.
“Exactly,” Yazeed had said. “By the time the lightworks are over, the lava’s flowing again and we’re on our way back to HQ with as much swag as we can carry.”
“Yaz, you’re a genius,” Sera had said.
“So true,” Yazeed had agreed. Everyone laughed and then eagerly started planning the heist.
Sera had been so thrilled about their having the building plans that it was only later, as they were heading to their bunks to crash, she had thought to ask Yaz how he had gotten them.
“Luca and I went to the Ostrokon,” Yazeed had replied lightly. “You can learn a lot there, you know.”
Sera had raised an eyebrow at his joke. Everyone knew that the Ostrokon was one of her favorite places in Cerulea. Before the city had been attacked, she had loved to go there and listen to history conchs, but it wasn’t safe now. “That was risky, Yaz. It’s heavily patrolled,” she’d said. She hadn’t even wanted to think about what would have happened if they’d been caught. She could not have asked for a better second-in-command. Yaz was smart, brave, and bold—but sometimes he was too bold.
He had grinned. “Not heavily enough, apparently,” he’d said, continuing to his bunk.
“Hold on a minute,” Sera had said, stopping him. “I still have a question for you: the old pipes…How do you know for sure that they’re still there?”
“We checked,” he had admitted with a shrug.
“You checked? The pipes are inside the palace. And there’s a bounty on your head. Just how did you check?”
Yaz had frowned. He’d tapped his chin with his finger. “Hmm. Well, now that I think about it, we might’ve crashed a party. Lucia sure loves parties.”
Sera had pressed a palm to her forehead. “Gods, no. Tell me you didn’t.”
Yaz had cast a quick illusio spell. His hair had lightened to blond. His eyes had turned blue. Tattoos, swirling and ornate, had appeared on his face, neck, and chest. He had affected a vapid look and the voice to match it.
“Bro, that’s Bilge playing! I loooove that band! Hey, did you see the ballast on that merl? It’s time to get jolly, Roger!”
Sera had shaken her head angrily. He’d gone too far. “You could’ve been captured, Yazeed. You, a leader of the Black Fin resistance. Do you have any idea what they would have done to you?”
“But we weren’t. And now we’re going to do some capturing. As in treasure.”
He’d kissed her forehead and flopped into his bunk. As angry as she had been with him, Sera hadn’t been able to suppress a triumphant smile. The resistance needed gold—lots of it, and Yazeed had found a way to get it.
“We’re in!” he called out now.
Sera turned her attention to the gate. Six bars had been cut away to make a space big enough to swim through. She raced back to the tunnel entrance and whistled. Almost instantly, the camoed fighters were at her side, following her into the tunnel.
Yazeed and his mermen—Luca, Silvio, and Franco—were ready at the gate, carrying pickaxes, weapons, and lava torches. Sera saw the determination on the faces of her comrades, and her heart clenched. Their loyalty, their trust, their willingness to die for the cause were what made the resistance strong.
She knew the mission they were about to undertake was insanely risky; she also knew they had no choice. The Black Fins were fighting not only for her realm, but for all the mer realms. Vallerio and Portia had already taken Miromara and Matali. They wanted Atlantica, Ondalina, Qin, and the Freshwaters, too. The vicious human Rafe Mfeme was helping them in their quest.
Someone else was helping, too, though Sera didn’t know who or why. She’d heard this someone else referred to as he, and knew he’d paid for her uncle’s invading mercenaries—the death riders. In return, Vallerio and Portia were aiding him in a search for six talismans—powerful objects that had belonged to the mages of Atlantis. Sera had learned that this person, whoever he was, planned to use the talismans to unleash a great evil submerged in the Southern Sea—Abbadon, a monster created by Orfeo, one of the mages. Who was the mysterious he? And why would her uncle ally with him? Sera didn’t know, but she knew that Vallerio and Portia didn’t care how many mer were killed, as long as they satisfied their desire for power and wealth, but what they didn’t seem to realize is that there would be nothing left to rule, nothing left to plunder, if this shadowy he got his way. She had to stop him, but to do so, she first had to stop her uncle.
Sera cast one last glance at her fighters. Fossegrim, the real
m’s liber magus, had been their leader. After his arrest, Sera had taken over. He was dead—Sera was certain of it—but neither she nor his fighters would forget him.
Words her mother had once spoken echoed in her head. A ruler’s greatest power comes from her heart—from the love she bears her subjects, and the love they bear her.
The Black Fins were Sera’s subjects. They were her brothers and sisters, too. Her family. And she loved them fiercely.
Gods, protect them, she prayed now. Keep them safe.
Sera raised her crossbow and addressed her fighters. “Fast and furious, just as we planned,” she said. “Watch your own back. Watch each other’s backs. No fear, no screwups, no prisoners. Let’s go.”
FRANCO WENT FIRST with a lava torch, followed by Serafina, with the others right behind them. They shot through the murky tunnel, its walls furry with algae, not stopping until they entered the palace’s enormous lava chamber.
The cavernous space had been hollowed out of the palace’s rock foundation. In the center of it was the channeler—the main pipe that directed lava from a seam deep below the seafloor. As it neared the ceiling, the pipe branched into four tributary pipes that snaked through tunnels in the rock. Each tributary had about four feet of space around it, allowing workers access for maintenance and repairs.
Sera, Yazeed, Luca, and Franco were going to follow the tributary on the west side of the room to the old pipe that ran above the treasury vaults. The rest of the Black Fins would stay where they were and wait for the four to return.
Yaz and Franco put their crossbows down. They were still carrying torches and had pickaxes slung over their backs; the tributary’s tunnel was too narrow to allow the weapons, too.
Sera started for the channeler, her crossbow raised, when Yazeed suddenly grabbed her arm. He pointed wordlessly, but she’d already seen what had spooked him. A watchman had entered the room. He swam to the channeler and bent down to examine a glass-covered dial, his back toward them.
The Black Fins had prepared for all eventualities. Sera nodded at Silvio, her best marksman. He raised his crossbow and a split second later, a dart found his target’s neck.
The watchman gave a surprised shout of pain. The dart’s tip was filled with weak stingray venom. Full strength, the venom would kill a mer. Diluted, it only put its victim to sleep. Silvio caught the watchman as he fell backward, his eyes already fluttering closed.