Drowning Mermaids

Chapters 39 - End

Chapter 39: Who Gets to Kill Atargatis

“So this is the troublesome female who caused all of this?” Queen Amabie mused in perfect, just barely accented English. She towered over the woman in chains at her feet. “This is the fearsome ‘Atargatis?’”

The blonde woman struggled and tried to scream out insults, but the sound was muffled by the gag in her mouth. Visola smiled down at her captive with satisfaction. Although her own body was bruised and battered, she found this moment of victory thoroughly fulfilling. The battle had not continued for many more hours after the Ningyo reinforcements had arrived. Adlivun’s losses had been far fewer than expected, and they had managed to capture many of the enemy warriors.

Assault rifles were magical. All in all, it had been a thoroughly successful day and Visola was basking in the glow of fulfillment. There was a large gash just under her ear from where a harpoon had nicked her, but the beautiful thing about a harpoon was that once it was thrown, the attacker was rendered defenseless and open. She had cut down at least two dozen Clan warriors this way. Their battle technique seriously needed refurbishing. Visola would not have felt like she had properly done her job unless there were trails of sticky blood leaking out of various wounds. Various nurses had offered their attention, but Visola had chosen to treasure her scratches for a little while longer as they tended to those with more life-threatening lesions. Her sister would stitch her up once she returned with Aazuria.

 “This woman’s real name is Koraline Kolarevic,” Visola explained to the Japanese queen.  “She was a dance instructor that King Kyrosed developed a liking for in Moscow about a century ago. She is Corallyn’s mother.”

Queen Amabie had been slowly circling Koraline, her regal crimson robes skimming the floor as she walked. With a hand on the hilt of her katana, she frowned in consternation as she examined the face of her enemy. “What a pity your attack on Adlivun should fail so miserably, girl,” she said magnanimously. “You should have known better. No one has ever beaten the magnificent warrior standing before you. This is General Visola Ramaris; she has the blood of the Vikings within her.”

“Aw. You sweet-talker!” Visola affectionately smiled at her friend as a rosy blush began to tinge her cheeks. “I can’t believe you remember my Viking Uncle Sigarr. Really, Queen Amabie, if you had not shown up when you had, the outcome would not nearly have been as certain.”

“Nonsense, my friend. You had it all under control—you will have to tell me how on earth you procured those mighty weapons.”

“You’ll never believe it.” Visola grinned, thinking of how best to tell the story, when the door to the dungeon opened.

Aazuria entered, dressed in full formal attire. She wore her silvery hair woven with pearls as was the custom, and a rich malachite-green dress which hung off of one shoulder. (Her other, bare shoulder, had been freshly dressed with bandages once more.) The airy fabric gathered at her waist with a wide jeweled band before continuing all the way to her toes. The waistband was embroidered with gemstones in the shape of Adlivun’s triple-moon symbol. The style of the garment was Grecian and stately.

Aazuria made the traditional salute across her chest before she curtsied deeply, touching the fingertips of her left hand to the floor. “Queen Amabie, I am forever indebted to you for providing reinforcements in our time of need. Please forgive me for having to leave the battle. Atargatis had placed some friends of mine in danger, and I needed to try to save them.”

The Japanese queen walked forward, her arms extended in greeting. “Queen Aazuria, why do you curtsy to me? We are equals, my good friend.”

“I am still but a princess. I have not yet had my coronation.”