Fiction Friday: Depths of War - Part Four

I hope you've been enjoying Depths of War. Part four gives us a shocking revelation. Are your read? Dive in!

Depths of War part 4

One moment Maran was relishing in the thrill of the kill and in the next she was thrown off balance, disoriented. Some threat had gone unnoticed by her. She had failed to give proper attention to her surroundings, a foolish mistake. Her arms jerked outward, webbed hands spread wide, catching at the water, trying to stop the sudden unexpected momentum. Her wide eyes took a brief moment to assess her attacker. A mermaid, young and fairly small; no real threat. Taking control of her stiffened muscles she used her strength to throw both herself and her assailant into a spiral. A feeling of vindication surged through her, adding to her strength, and she smiled as she forced the treacherous surfie toward the rocks of the islet.

When she had spun them about, the pair had shifted just far enough that the impact of the mermaid's back against the outcropping missed the sharp and deadly rocks she had obviously meant to slam Maran into. This change meant the impact had not resulted in the surfie's death. It did however make the girl cry out in pain and crumple in Maran's grip. Her webbed hand gripped the girl's chin from where it lolled against her chest and forced it upward. She would enjoy taunting this impudent Satah before delivering the death blow.

The storm around them raged on in sync with her own raging heart. Maran's hand wrapped around the girl's throat and shook her. Moaning, the young mermaid opened her eyes, they widened at the sight of the fierce Ghaharaee before her and she let out a yelp. Maran's own eyes widened in surprise as she stared into the violet eyes looking at her in such terror. Her grip on the surfie's neck slackened and she jerked back in the water. The girl moved as if to swim away, but the Sena warrior quickly reined her back in. Cocking her head to the side, she studied the girl's face. Her voice barely a whisper, she asked, "Divvy?"


The whip-crack of thunder filled her head as she opened her eyes. The illuminating glare of the lightning that followed glowed fiercely in the silver eyes of the deep-sea monster that held her in her grip. She saw her own death in those eyes, but suddenly the grip on her throat loosened. Her tail flicked against the stone behind her, preparing to launch her body away. Just as suddenly as the Ghaharaee warrior had loosened her grip, she tightened it again. Divvy felt her body go limp, preparing to accept its fate, when she heard the faint whisper of her name.

Time seemed to freeze as she puzzled at the sound of her name coming from this creature before her. She studied the beast, its flesh whiter than a fish belly, barbel all along its face blowing in the fierce winds of the storm, and those eyes. Its glowing silver eyes that had seconds before reflected nothing but hatred and death, now glowed with something else. Was that warmth she saw in them?

Divvy cringed away from the webbed hand with its sharp clawed fingers as the bottom dweller reached for her. The thing stilled its hand, but only for a moment, as if to send the message that it meant no harm. Indeed it did in fact caress her cheek rather than tear at her flesh. "Divvy," the creature said again, with more conviction this time.

"Who are you?" the young mermaid asked of her captor. "How do you know me?"

Through razor teeth the Ghaharaee warrior said, "It's me Divvy. It's Maran."

Divvy gasped. Maran? She shook her head in disbelief. She searched for traces of the truth of the woman's claim. The hair, the barbel, the deadly spikes growing from the end of her tail, none of it resembled the Maran she knew. "Please," the woman begged, "see me." She stared into the pleading eyes of the wretched creature before her and saw past the silver glow to the faint hint of violet below. Her hand flew to her mouth as she inhaled sharply. Tears began to stream from her eyes, mixing with the rain streaming down her face. Divvy lifted her fingers, reaching past the barbel to stroke her sister's cheek.