Fathoms Deep: Chest of Soul Prequel

By Michelle Erickson

After millennia's of being taught to hate, can the Five most powerful Macshara in the world find a way to reach the free land without killing each other? 

Soline is the most feared of the Five. The Sea Witch has her own agenda 
and mercy has never been part of the equation. 

Jaydren is as stubborn as the mountains he can move. He doesn't know how to give up. Not even on Soline. 

Vael's flames are unstable. He's unwanted, but that doesn't stop him 
from making plans to become the most powerful of the Five. 

Ammon's gut tells him that Vael will be the death of them. He just wishes he could convince Veya before it's too late. 

Revaya has a secret that may get her killed, but there's no way to keep it to herself, not on board a ship. Sooner or later, it will get out. 

Who knew being free would be so hard? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Erickson
• Release date: Sep 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781536512618

Book preview

Prologue

Aaron of Rozan-Steading exchanged a look with his children as a quake shook their home.  In his heart, he knew the quake wasn’t natural. It had something to do with Ammon, his oldest son and heir to the title, Master of Rozan-Steading.

He did not stop to comfort those present, nor explain where he was going as he hit the back door at a run.  He descended the back stairs faster than he ever had; eager to reach the family tree. 

From that height, he would be able to see his son, the true Master of Rozan-Steading.  Ammon was his only child that had ever even wanted to climb to the top of the sacred family tree.  As Aaron climbed, he knew in his heart that either Ammon was on his way home, or dead.  His son did not do half-way measures.  It was one of the qualities that would make him the best Master of Rozan-Steading that had ever been.

No one had followed Aaron.  His other children didn’t know what was at the top of the tree because they weren’t supposed to know.  Ignorance was part of the agreement their family had with the harpies – only the current of Master of Rozan-Steading would know of their existence.  It made the alliance easier for both species.

He eagerly – even desperately – ran up the carved spiral steps of the family tree which stood more than three hundred feet tall.  At the prodding of the still small voice inside, he’d made the trip every other day for months to watch for Ammon.  His legs could take the demand he was making of them.

Macshara, those Sharians who had the ability to work with elements, had fried, blown, erupted, and flooded the land that stretched between Rozan-Steading and everyone else.  The ongoing Mac wars left Rozan-Steading, the main source of food for the entire Sharian nation, sitting with its backside against a long thick stretch of east coastline.    

Ammon had personally brought or sent several Macshara of various types to the Steading.  With their help, reclaiming the sterile ground was now not just possible, but guaranteed.  Since the Macs had arrived, the Steading had gained a hundred acres in a month.  It was a record no one had expected and few knew about, least of all those that made the laws of the land. 

Aaron planned to keep it that way. 

While the Macs Ammon had offered sanctuary to had proven their worth, each farming family on Rozan-Steading spent significant time teaching them self-control.  They knew, now, the investment would be worth it. Ammon would be pleased to know they had done so well.  Upon his return, in his honor, there would be a great celebration. 

His son, the true Master of Rozan-Steading, would be able to embrace his stewardship.  Ammon had developed many talents that would be needed when he returned.  Some things would be much easier.  He already knew the truth about the harpies.  He’d learned how to work with Macshara at the Fortress in Brissa, and he’d already been the best at reclamation prior to his becoming a Guard. 

Aaron’s legs kept pumping him up the hundreds of stairs until they burned and grew so tight he knew he was going to feel it for a while, but didn’t care.  His chest ached for air, but he pushed himself on.  Each step became a syllable of his son’s name: Am-mon, Am-mon, he chanted silently as he relentlessly traveled upward.

By the time Aaron reached the top, if Ammon had survived, he would be able to see his son running across the dead lands toward home.  Ammon was not the kind of man to procrastinate.  The last time he saw his son, Aaron knew Ammon had not wanted to return to the Fortress.  He’d seen it in his son’s eyes. Yet, Ammon had insisted on returning to right the wrong done to Macshara. 

Aaron arrived at the top of the tree out of breath, light-headed, and determined to get to the nearest window of the Royal Harpy aerie.  He pulled himself up into the aerie and ignored the three dozen or so harpies that were currently establishing other aeries at the top of other family trees. 

With his chest heaving, he looked out the window, his gaze resting on the stretch of dead black soil.  It was empty of life.

What happened to my son?

With a sinking heart, he watched the three distant specks in the sky grow closer.  Soon they were close enough he could see the two with wings were the current King and Queen of the harpies.  Someone that was not Ammon was hanging between them.

Under the ladder that led to the roof of the aerie, he waited, wiping sweat from his face and trying to wipe the fear from his heart.  If anyone knew what had happened to Ammon, they would.  He’d counted on them watching over Ammon in the Fortress, knowing harpies were incapable of breaking the treaty with Rozan-Steading.  They could tell him how Ammon died.  He prepared his heart.

Aaron heard them land on the roof, then the whispery sound of feathers and scratching noise of claws as they descended into the aerie.  He listened to their buzzing form of speech, the tone seemed almost playful. 

He had expected the King to descend first and was prepared to look up into red alien eyes.  Instead, the blind eyes and weathered skin of the oldest harpy he’d ever seen came into sight.  He knew her by Ammon’s description.  Axe. 

Aaron of Rozan-Steading, she said, stretching forth her hand.  She moved forward until her harpy-rough skin lay heavy on his forearm.  He hadn’t realized he’d been weeping until his tears hit her skin.

Go to the window and look west, toward the sea.

He hurried to the small round window; hope rebuilding as he did so.  His eyes searched.  His heart burst into song as he witnessed a large brown speck, riding the swell of vast waves.  A ship! 

Life flooded back into his limbs and along with it, rising hope and an equal measure of relief. 

As your yellow-eyed wife told you, Axe continued, "Ammon brings change.  What she did not tell you was that she foresaw he would bring change in two worlds; ours and the free land."

The brown speck disappeared as she spoke.  He turned to say, When will he be back?

Only when Ammon has finished what he must do in the free land, will he return, Axe said with warning tones overriding hope in her voice.  It will be many millennia, Aaron of Rozan-Steading. 

He took a deep breath to steady his emotions and nodded his understanding, adding, I’ll be here.

As will I.

Chapter 1:  Secrets

On the crest of the distant wave rode a body. 

Soline, a newly escaped Water-Mac from the Fortress in Shara, stood on the prow of a large ship. A vessel that Ammon, a former Guard in the Fortress, had created with one touch.   

Her unusual eyes focused on the wave.  It was so far ahead of them it was barely discernible.  She preferred to keep secret the fact she had not allowed Haneil Pock’s body to lay at rest beneath the ocean.  She had other plans now that the Temis Belt that had enslaved her for millennia was just another bad memory. 

The day the cursed belts fell off the necks of the three Macshara that had been bonded to Ammon, Jaydren, a fellow inmate, violently chucked his overboard and turned to witness the only tears she remembered crying since she was twelve. 

Tears ran down her cheeks, or rather, sideways, because she stood near the front of the ship, embracing the feel of freedom and enjoying the salty spray.  As her tears melted into her midnight-black hair, the color changed from root to end.  Her hip-length tresses became long thick strips of blue blended with thinner strips of greens, and even thinner strips of iron-grey. 

As the tears flowed, the bottom third of her eye, which had been the colors of the sea, became clear.  Only because Ammon pointed it out did she know her restless solid-green irises bobbed on now-clear waves. 

Currently, Jaydren stood near her, seeming to prefer her company over that of the others on board.  It was comforting and disturbing. 

He silently placed his large warm hand over her ice cold ones and looked forward.  She let his hand stay, allowing him to lend silent support.  He did not know how much it helped ease her pain and she would never tell him.

Where’s the storm? she heard Ammon grumble and in her peripheral vision, she saw him looking up at the sky.

True, the turbulent ocean did not match a clear sky.  It did, however, match her foul mood.

Revaya, an Air-Mac and fellow escapee, looked Soline’s way, but kept her peace. 

Soline felt it would have been better if Veya said something about the sea matching Soline’s mood, but Revaya appeared to prefer peace and quiet. 

In Soline’s opinion, there were enough irritations that no one could be at peace, yet.

As for herself, the fact the pitch-and-roll of the ship helped her see better did not please her.

It should have! 

The salty air, something she had longed for, did not calm her! 

The fact they all survived the escape from the Fortress was nothing short of miraculous, but she was not grateful! 

Instead, she was angry and getting angrier.

The reason was riding the crest of a wave, miles away.

The body atop the large wave belonged to Haneil Pock, the quirky inventor that had been forced to make Temis Belts in the Fortress.  He had planned to escape with them and create a new life in the free land. 

Instead of the intelligent banter she had expected to have with Haneil, she was forced to endure the presence of an ashy-smelling, cowardly, Fire-Mac named Vael.  He was wet and shivering, sitting next to Veya at the back of the ship.  He was the only one that still wore the cursed Temis Belt.  It was her secret delight that the Fire-Mac would wear it to his grave.  She hoped to dispatch him to the bottom of the ocean soon.

With every heartbeat, rage had been her constant companion in the Fortress.  It was the reason everyone had done their best to stay clear of her. That bitter measure of anger was old, familiar.  This fury was larger, already bigger than she had ever imagined it could be, and it was building.

To return to the water, feel the pressing caress of the deeper currents against her skin, was a temptation she wasn’t sure she would be able to resist for long.  She’d already be Fathoms Deep if she hadn’t made herself a promise that she would fulfill Haneil’s desire and bury his body in the free land. 

He’d openly spoken of the free land whenever he had fitted her with a new Temis Belt.  Back then, he’d wanted a place for his gifted daughters to go where they would be free to be what they were:  Macs.  It had never happened and never would.  His daughters were dead and his only son was lost at sea.

No one on board knew Yole Pock’s ship went down, but she had been underwater several times over the last few weeks.  She knew his fate because the currents knew the ship sank the first time Yole was at sea.  She would keep her promise to herself to see her friend buried in the free land.  Because of the wave carrying Haneil’s body forward, she would know long before anyone else when they reached their destination.

Afterward, she would return to the ocean floor where she belonged.  Land held nothing of interest for her.  She tightened her jaw and forced her mind to avoid thinking about a pair of bluer-than-blue eyes in a handsome face. 

Jaydren’s warm hand left hers to give her shoulder a slight squeeze of reassurance.  No one else dared touch her.  His voice was a soft plea, Soline, please don’t swamp the ship.

She looked up into his blue eyes and then at the water surrounding them.  In the last few minutes, the ocean had grown darker and the waves had become swells that grew higher and colder as their ship plowed through the rough water. 

Beneath his touch, her anger ebbed.  The sea became calmer. Though it was still a bit choppy, it was not her mood causing it.

Your hands are like ice, he said and took them both into his own warm hands and began to rub them, creating friction that provided warmth...and caused her to feel shy.

There was nothing carnal about his actions.  He simply cared, she reminded herself, as he did for every member of their motley crew.

She’d never met anyone like Jaydren.  He was, simply put, a good man. 

He was taller than she was, though not by much.  His dark hair was the color hers had been before she wept.  She was rather amazed that he didn’t seem to care it was tri-colored now instead of ebony or that it...moved.  Perhaps he thought it was the wind instead of her emotions that caused the ends of her hair to be restless like the ocean.

Good, they’re warm now, he smiled and looked out at the calmer ocean.  She wondered if he realized he still had hold of one of her hands.  She reminded herself Jaydren was an Earth Mac.  He would never want to go fathoms deep; she wasn’t sure he could even if he desired it. 

She was upset that she wanted him to want to and gently pulled away her hand.  She had no idea how to handle these emotions.  After millennia in the Fortress where she tucked away her emotions, they felt foreign and unwelcome.

I wish I knew how far we are from land, he took a deep breath and surprised her by laughing.  At the same time, all this, he gestured to the ocean before them, symbolizes freedom, so I can hardly complain.

She felt a rush of something that felt like gratitude.  All the others, including Revaya, had mentioned how much they wanted to see land again.  Jaydren was an Earth-Mac and she was sure he longed to place his feet on shore even more than they did.  Yet, he didn’t whine about it.

You’ll let me know if you see one of those beautiful fish again, won’t you?

She successfully fought off a smile and nodded.  He was speaking of the lavender kite-shaped fish that had drifted alongside their ship for miles.  He didn’t know she had summoned it, wondering, if after this many millennia, her childhood pet would still be alive. 

Her heart had ached when she realized it wasn’t her pet, but one of his descendants.  The parent-imprint of her pet’s memory of Soline was still there.  It was the first thing in over nine millennia that felt real to her; validation she’d actually existed before she’d been imprisoned.  The pet fish was overjoyed to see her and flipped into the air, which is when everyone else had noticed his presence. 

Ammon had wanted to make a fishing pole, his stomach howling approval at the thought. 

She’d overridden that idea with one look.

Veya had been too busy over-mothering Vael to do more than glance at her pet, but Jaydren wanted to touch it, feel it.  He’d been terribly disappointed when her pet disappeared.  He had no idea she’d commanded it to remain under their ship where it would be safe and keep her company anytime she went beneath the waves.

I’ll go below and get you something to eat.

No one else had bothered to see to her comfort.  Not that she wanted or expected them to.  She wanted to refuse him, but Jaydren made refusing seem juvenile. 

Voices drifted to her over the crash of the waves.  Ammon was baiting Vael again; it was his favorite sport. 

Her favorite was listening to Ammon tease and threaten the Fire-Mac.  She silently applauded the barbed insults Ammon threw at his favorite target.  Ammon was trying to push Vael into using his element – fire.  If he did, the hazardous Fire-Mac would earn a one-way trip overboard via Ammon’s capable hands.

C’mon, Ammon taunted.  You never know if you like something unless you try.

"Ammon, enough! snapped Revaya.  He doesn’t want to!  Go ask Jaydren!"

Ammon had been trying to get Vael to wrestle him.  It wouldn’t be fair, considering the fact Vael had no training and Ammon was born looking for a fight.  Personally, Soline would have loved to see how far Ammon could throw Vael out into the ocean.  The former Captain of the Guards was enormously strong, though not bulky, and a great deal smarter than he looked.  She had learned that by default through the Temis Belt during the short time she’d been bonded to him. 

She’d never let Ammon know how impressed she was when they were anxiously waiting for him to join them on the shore the day the Fortress of Brissa fell.  Carrying a dying Haneil on his back, he’d slapped the side of the biggest tree hugging the side of the cliff below the Fortress and bellowed, Ship!

To everyone’s surprise, all the portions of wood that didn’t form this ship fell away and the fully-formed vessel ever-so-slowly tipped and heavily dropped into the shallows near the beach. 

Ammon and Jaydren had pushed the large ship into the water, a feat of no small merit given its size.  She used her talent with water to help them get it into the ocean, but only after her amazement faded over Ammon’s violently casual use of his unique power.  Not one of those on board had seen it before.  To the entire group of former prisoner’s, Ammon looked like a huge tree.

He was not the idiot he pretended to be.  She had seriously underestimated him.  She had not imagined, even when they were bonded by the Temis Belt, that he had that kind of power.  Mostly, she’d done her level best to ignore him and his emotions.   

For the past week she’d wandered the ship, secretly seeking flaws in his masterpiece.  She was grudgingly impressed that it was one enormous piece, no seams.  Below the deck, there was even a small room with a door!  It was hinged with pegs of wood and fit snugly.  Inside, hanging from the ceiling, there were nut-filled branches. When he saw them, Ammon had looked embarrassed and apologized that he hadn’t quite gotten the ship perfect.  At the time, she had smirked. 

However, those few twiggy branches had provided the bulk of their diet the last few weeks, along with the few items Ammon had in his rucksack.

Things would nearly be perfect – if. 

She darted a glance at the unwanted Fire-Mac.  He wasn’t just a problem, he was the problem.  In the Fortress they didn’t break Vael’s spirit, they broke his mind.  Revaya couldn’t or just wouldn’t see it.  Jaydren saw it but, because he wanted to be fair, was willing to give Vael a chance. 

Jaydren’s eyes were the blue of the sky unless he was angry, then they turned dusky.  He smiled more often now they were free.  It was hard to be angry with him.  She knew he was sincere, but he annoyed her with his talk of honor and the right thing to do.  He had applied both those terms to Vael.  In her opinion, they didn’t fit.  She didn’t believe Vael’s insanity was curable.  Neither did Ammon.  It was the biggest reason she kept peace with the over-muscled son of the Master of Rozan Steading.

Give Vael a chance, Soline, Jaydren had quietly counseled.  Maybe that’s all he needs.

She disagreed.  What Vael needed was to be salted.  Immediately.

We don’t know what happened to him...

Nor did she care.

...with time, maybe his problems will resolve themselves.

She disagreed.  Vael’s problems are like a rip current, Jaydren, she’d said softly, gaining his full attention.  She looked into his eyes, trying to get him to see.  The unwary are dragged under.

She’d turned and walked away, wondering if Jaydren heard the doubt in his own voice.  She wished he could see his expression as he said talked about Vael’s problems, how his blue eyes assessed the craven little monster and doubted. 

In spite of the inherent danger, they were giving Vael the chance Jaydren and Veya felt the disturbed flame deserved. 

Vael was dangerous because he was insane, not because he was a Fire-Mac.  The fact his element was fire made his fractured mind even more perilous.  If given a chance, when Jaydren wasn’t looking or if Revaya stopped hovering over the unwanted passenger, she would drown the nasty ember.  She promised herself a thousand times a day that Vael would die the minute she had him alone, if Ammon didn’t beat her to it first. 

*

Ammon was not accustomed to being so physically limited.  He wished the ship were bigger, but he hadn’t been able to find a bigger tree given the emergency nature of their escape. 

This ship was made of Spiran wood, a living wood that was water-proof, supposedly fire-proof, and, he believed, would even grow given the right environment.  Salt water was not the right environment.

He tried to avoid the front of the ship, preferring to leave it to the eye-bobbing Soline and the annoyingly-noble Jaydren. 

Jaydren became the unofficial, but very effective leader of their little band of renegade Macs.  Everyone respected Jaydren because he had a clear head and commanding presence.

Unfortunately, he said no to Ammon’s best ideas concerning Vael.

Feeding the flame-wad to the sharks was a no. 

Throwing Vael overboard was a no.

Keelhauling the wickless wonder was another no.

What’s keelhaul? Revaya had asked, horrified but interested.

Ammon grimly explained, I tie a long rope to the flicker and drop him over the front of the ship so he gets dragged under the keel of the ship.  At her blank look, Ammon added, The bottom, Veya, the bottom.

She looked at him as if she’d like to rip off his arm so he left her with the enemy, but he wouldn’t leave her alone with that enemy more than fifteen minutes at a time.

The burning parasite known as Vael, was sitting as close to Revaya as he could get without being on her lap.  It made Ammon want to snap his scrawny neck like a twig.

Veya was a beautiful, smart, and gentle Air-Mac.  Unfortunately, she had a highly over-developed mothering-instinct.  Otherwise she never would have been so eager to let the coal-for-brain fire hazard aboard the ship.  It did prove she was insanely brave, which he ardently admired. 

She had chosen to jump overboard to save the glowing coal when the rest of them, including Jaydren, would have left him to the whims of fate.  Vael would have drowned or he would have made it back to shore.  Either way, he would not be their problem right now.

As he watched his fellow escapees, he noted that each tapped their foot every so often.  It was something all Macshara learned when they went to the Fortress.  When any Macshara purposefully tapped their foot, they knew the number of elementals, the direction, and the level of power other Macs held.  The harder they tapped, the farther they could ‘see.’ 

All of those aboard had tapped while they were in the Fortress, seeking to know the strength of their imprisoned competition so they could be prepared to defeat their opponents.

When Ammon had first tapped Vael, the miles-high flames that came to mind cavorted around in an abandoned dance of destruction; Vael’s flames didn’t stay in place like any normal Fire-Macs would.  The problem was all of the others could also see this – and yet the flicker remained.

He knew in his gut that Vael was a flaming package of tightly-wound trouble just waiting to snap, crackle, and pop loose from his bonds. 

He resented Vael’s existence.  If it hadn’t been for the flame-faces untimely interruption, Ammon would be back home on Rozan-Steading, working with the land, joking with his family, and learning about harpies from actual harpies.  He wouldn’t be stuck in the middle of an ocean with four Macshara, and not just any Macs, but the strongest in each of their elements, bar none.

He missed home in a way that made tears come to his eyes.  His family would have heard by now the Fortress had been destroyed.  He wondered if the harpies he’d seen flying away from the Fortress had made it to the aerie, if they had told his father he wasn’t dead, or if the harpies knew he wasn’t.

At home, if they believed him dead, they would have held his funeral.  Hope rose in him as he recalled the family trees.  Every member of his family’s name grew into its bark at birth.  If anyone died, the death date appeared next to theirs.  Everyone knew the trees could not lie.  They always knew the truth.  Course, he wasn’t sure how his over-the-ocean-travel was going to affect the wisdom of trees, but they had never failed him.  The date would not appear and they would know that he was still alive...for the moment.

The undiluted truth was sobering:  he didn’t know if he would survive the voyage. 

Until he returned, there was no point in wondering if the trees had let his father know the truth.  For now, he had a more pressing problem:  food.  When he ran from the Fortress, he’d thought they had more time to pull supplies together. Everything had deteriorated when the Commander threatened Revaya and good-hearted Haneil had taken heroic action, which, ultimately, cost the Temis-Belt maker his life. 

Food was low to begin with and though Ammon could keep the nuts growing for a time, they would eventually give out.  He squinted in Soline’s direction.  He trusted her more than Vael, but that wasn’t saying much.  Most of his trust was based on their mutual feeling that the flaming brain-case should be tossed overboard.

Veya was so concerned with Vael, she wasn’t thinking about food.  ‘Course, she had been starved on a regular basis while incarcerated because she wouldn’t accept any of the Commanders or Guards as lovers.  From the look in his besotted eyes, Vael’s crisp-fried brain was heading that direction.  Ammon pushed the disturbing thought aside. 

Then there was his pet Shee.  Ammon didn’t want Vael to know about Spar.  All the others knew about the animal, including Veya.  So far, they were keeping the modified squirrel secret.

On his growing list of possible woes was the ship itself.  It wasn’t showing signs of stress and he hoped it was simply more Spiran wood magic.  It was said to be virtually indestructible. 

In the beginning, he was confident it would last long enough to get them to their destination, now he wasn’t so sure, but grateful it was in good shape.

He was tired of chasing the tail of his thoughts.  Besides, it was time to plague flame-face again.  Hopefully, this time it would work.  The less-controlled fire whack would finally burst into flame, and Ammon would have the needed excuse to help him become all he could be:  Fish food.

Chapter 2: Killing boredom

Jaydren knew Ammon was becoming increasingly bored. 

The big man hadn’t spent the last several millennia locked inside a cell like the rest of them.  Though the ship seemed large to former prisoners, it wasn’t big enough for someone like the Master of Rozan-Steading.  Soon he would feel pushed to do something drastic.  It was up to Jaydren to think of ways to keep Ammon occupied.

In hindsight, Jaydren wasn’t sure how their group had survived.  Except for Haneil, all those that had wanted to join their voyage to the free land were here; with one unwelcome fiery addition. 

He still wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice in allowing Vael aboard the ship.  Truthfully, it was the reason he didn’t stop Ammon’s baiting.  If the blonde Fire-Mac failed the test, if he lost his temper and produced any flames without permission, Jaydren would help Ammon throw him overboard as Soline kept the unwanted passenger doused.  There were times he wished it would happen, but his conscience firmly reminded him that everyone deserved a chance. 

Revaya’s trust in Vael seemed to have merit in one way.  Vael’s fire wasn’t as wild.  Jaydren knew because he’d been tapping Vael from the moment he came aboard.  He noted the other former prisoners, including Revaya, did the same.  Ammon rarely tapped his foot, but everyone else had been inside the Fortress far too long to leech the habit out of them overnight.

He knew the food was becoming scarce and Soline had murmured to him last night that they were only halfway to their destination.  Hunger, on top of the stress of being on board with former ‘enemies,’ was keeping everyone on edge.  They needed something to distract them; especially Ammon, who wasn’t used to missing meals. 

The former Captain of the Guards was very physical.  Wrestling would serve to burn off Ammon’s restlessness and his own growing concerns. 

Foremost in Jaydren’s mind was the fact they were heading toward unknown country with the real possibility of the free land being occupied by hostile Macs. 

They would need to be prepared and to do that, they would have to be united – even Vael would have to play a part so they could survive whatever came at them. 

Ammon would fight him on that logic at first, but Jaydren knew he was right and Ammon was intelligent enough to recognize a bigger threat.  First, he needed to help Ammon work off the worst of his frustration.

Ammon? he called as he used his element to strengthen his bones.  Time to show everyone your muscle mass.

Ammon eagerly stripped off his shirt.  Jaydren did the same.  Soline moved away from the prow of the ship and everyone