Bastian's Song [Complete--Editing]

[ 6 ]

As the day cycle began, Prince Arsenius of Nereus was making his way towards the Dome. Officially, the name for the building and the water that surrounded it was "the training grounds". No one called it that. 

The base was the same bleached coral that most buildings in Nereus were made of, but the top was made of thick glass that shimmered in the dim underwater light. Magic had built the Dome and kept it in perfect condition over many lifetimes. 

Every warrior that protected the Naiad clan had undergone training at the Dome. Under its shining ceiling, brotherhood bonds had been forged in the fire of pain and bloodshed. Currently, the one in charge of training all who desired to become warriors was Prince Arsenius. 

This cycle would begin the training for the youngest members of Nereus. It was a day full of excitement from the young ones and quiet sympathy from those who had already completed their training and knew the challenges ahead. 

For Prince Bastian, it was more exciting and nerve wracking on a personal level. Today was the first day he would be in the company of his Uncle Arsenius. Melodia did not speak much about Arsenius, and Militum quietly deferred to her actions. 

Not only did Melodia not speak about him, but Prince Arsenius was also mysteriously absent from his nephew's life.

Bastian was determined to spend as much time as he could with his uncle, preferably alone. Especially because there was something he was curious about, and it was yet another subject Melodia was infuriatingly silent on - the topic of Triton Augustus' passing.

If anyone could tell him more about his father's death, it would be the one in charge of the Naiad warriors.

Thirteen adolescents were gathered inside the Dome, their eyes wide and their tails twitching with nerves and energy. Inside the Dome, the light of the sun was muted and the water was chill. Most of them were only able to see clearly thanks to the light of the bio-luminescent plants that grew all along the inside base. 

As soon as Arsenius entered the Dome, the young merchildren straightened up and placed their left hands against their right shoulders. A proper salute for the greatest warrior of the Naiad clan. 

He swam until he could face their school, his eyes sharp with calculation as he looked them over. Bastian glanced up, curious about his uncle, and was surprised to find Arsenius' gaze locked with his. 

Arsenius' dark gold eyes shined with malevolence. Bastian shivered and felt frozen in place by the force of the emotion in his uncle's eyes.

Then Arsenius turned his attention from Bastian, freeing the young merman from his grip.

"Listen up!" Prince Arsenius' deep voice was firm and loud. "Today marks the day you are to begin the most important journey of your lives." 

Zareb looked intently at the prince as he spoke. Bastian cast a nervous glance to his right, where Lachlan usually was, but the green tailed imp was missing. Unlike his brothers, Lachlan did not feel the call of the warrior. His trade was music and the Song. 

It felt lonely without him, even though Zareb was present. Like something was missing. Bastian turned his attention back to Arsenius.  

"For the next twenty years, you will report here in the morning. Your instructors will be warriors that have seen battle, and if you wish to survive in combat then you would do well to listen to every word they speak."

Arsenius held open his arms, as though welcoming the children for a hug. 

"The Naiads are in need of you, little ones. The Selach clan continues their aggressive behavior at our borders. They hound our merchants with their claws and weapons. They steal our supplies and raid our treasures." His tail twitched with agitation. 

"And soon, we will go to war with them and wreak the vengeance of justice upon their heads!" Arsenius' eyes flashed with a light that came from within him. His magic responded to his emotions, making his whole form glow with golden light. 

With obvious effort, the elder prince reigned himself in and lowered his arms. "And when we go to fight those shark-tailed bastards, you will be at our sides." He looked at every one of the young merchildren except Bastian.

After a minute, he lifted a hand and gestured for one of the mermen who were waiting patiently to the side of the dome. 

"I present to you warrior Atreus. He will be your instructor for the basics of combat training. Follow his commands as though they were mine."

Bastian looked at the stoic warrior beside his uncle with a sense of growing dread. He had assumed all the training would be done under Arsenius' watch personally. How was he to grow close to his uncle if he weren't even present?

He opened his mouth to speak out, but Arsenius was already turning away from them. No, so soon?

"Uncle!" Bastian swam forward a foot before he realized he was moving. 

Arsenius turned his head to the side, acknowledging the call, but did not look back to his nephew. 

Bastian's heart was racing. "Could I speak with you? Later, I mean." He glanced back at Zareb who was trying not to panic at this breach of protocol. "If you aren't busy? Sir?"

Every second his uncle did not respond felt like an eternity to Bastian. 

Finally, Arsenius spoke. "No."

Then he turned and swam away, leaving Bastian to stare longingly after his retreating back. Atreus cleared his throat gently. "Young prince, please rejoin the others. Our lesson will begin now." 

Bastian started at the sound and flushed. "Oh. Yes. Of course. Sorry."

He swam backwards, unable to tear his eyes off his uncle, until he was in line again. 

Atreus turned to the group and began immediately to put them to work. A warrior's trade was his body and his mind. The merchildren must build up their muscles and hone their minds for strategy. They must perfect their combat Songs and learn to trust one another with their lives. Literally. 

It was grueling work, and it left all of the little ones far too tired to do much of anything else afterwards, but each day of training brought them closer to one another. 

Bastian devoted himself to the art of combat, not because he loved it, but because it was expected of him. 

The Naiads could only go to war if the Triton commanded it. And in less than twenty years, that would be Bastian. 

In less than twenty years, he would have to give the order to set his clan upon the enemies that had murdered the father he had never known.