Shattered by the Sea Lord - Starla Night Page 0,93
in stiff, battle-ready formation with full weapons and trident.
Konomelu rolled the rock, testing it.
Prince Lukiyo paced in front of Nuno. “Why did you not pledge? You could have trained with me. We would have commanded armies.”
“You’re not commanding anyone,” Nuno snapped. “You’re just licking the king’s fin. Look at him. He’s insane. If you flinch wrong, you’ll end up in here.”
“I am his prince.”
“So? He’ll turn against you. Just like he turned against your dad.”
“My father turned against him first. And he would never turn against me. I am his last heir.”
“That’s not true.” Nuno snorted. “There’s always Hadali.”
Prince Lukiyo blanched. Then, he snarled. “Hadali is nothing. I am ten times the warrior. He is too soft, too weak. He belongs on the shore.”
“Yeah? Well, I doubt your insane grandfather cares.”
Prince Lukiyo’s chin wobbled.
An older warrior floated close. “Prince Lukiyo. Chin up.”
“Quiet, Warrior Figuara. Do not talk to me.” He kicked back to his place of honor and gripped his trident.
The former lieutenant, who’d watched over the island kindly before his demotion, floated closer to the tied warriors. “It pains me to see you here, Nuno.”
“Well, then, do something about it.” Nuno held out his hand for a weapon.
The guard slammed Nuno in the gut, causing him to bend over, and shooed Figuara away. He turned the pointed end of the trident on Konomelu. “No more games. You will feel its weight soon enough.”
Konomelu winced to play up his pre-existing injuries, hate burning in his eyes.
The king unearthed his lever and conferenced with his city lieutenant. The gist of their conversation drifted to Ciran.
Everything would start once the recruits arrived.
Hopefully, the new recruits would be older. Trainees taken from an unlucky traveling party or a raid.
A shout heralded their arrival. The city warriors parted to make an entry path. Lieutenant Orike led his patrol. He released a net. Inside floated out a mixed crowd of trainees, some very small.
Ciran’s heart sank.
The youths saw Itime, Konomelu, and Nuno. “Father! Dad! Father! Dadaaaaa!”
Konomelu roared and struggled in his bonds.
Itime fisted his shackles, no less emotional, but outwardly calm.
The guards battered both of them. They curled into defensive balls. Konomelu realized his mistake and cut off his fury before they injured him.
The young fry screamed.
“Silence the new recruits,” the king ordered.
The patrol jostled the young fry. The older ones obediently quieted, but the youngest wailed.
The king lifted his trident. “Silence him.”
His captors jostled and shook the skinny young fry, but his cry elevated to piercing.
The king lowered his trident. “Must I do it myself?”
“My king.” Figuara floated forward. “He is too young. He has had no training to obey your orders.”
“No one is too young for punishment.” The king twitched his trident at the nearest captor. “You silence him or I will. And my method will leave us down a recruit.”
The warrior’s nostrils flared and pity flashed across his face before hardened obedience replaced it. He raised the base of his trident to slam it into the wailing young fry’s skull.
Tulu darted in front and took the blow on his shoulder with a grunt.
Hadali pushed through the other trainees and yanked the wailing young fry into his arms. He rocked and shushed him desperately. The young fry’s cry muffled.
Prince Lukiyo flew to his brother. “What are you doing here? How could you leave the island?”
“I didn’t.” Hadali bounced the young fry to quiet. “They came onto land. Lieutenant Orike broke into the sacred church.”
Shocked murmurs echoed through the city.
So that sanctuary had been as much an illusion as the coral barrier.
Ciran’s stomach squeezed. Why had he been feeling stronger and healthier? These armed, deadly warriors must have terrified the women.
The king floated forward, trident upright, and silence fell instantly. “Lieutenant Orike?”
Lieutenant Orike bowed to the king. “We carried out your orders and rescued the young fry.”
“Grandfather?” Prince Lukiyo floated in front of the young fry he’d grown up with. “You ordered him to break the treaty negotiated by my father and Elder Daka?”
“Lukiyo.” The king hardened into obsidian. “Your place. Now.”
“But, Grandfather, the island is sacred ground.”
The king’s bloodless lips curled back from his teeth. His chest vibrated. “Now.”
Prince Lukiyo’s brow knitted with worry. He kicked to his respectful position, straightened, and stared into the distance.
His brother and the others watched him. Betrayal mixed with fear, hurt, anger.
How could they unleash the kraken with the young fry here?
Ciran needed to think.
But there was no time.
“Ciran of Atlantis.” The king waved him forward. “Watch carefully. Today, you witness the might of Lusca.”