Hopefully the ceiling wouldn’t cave in on us.
We hadn’t found any more disciples while gathering wood. I had sent Antonio to all the places where they gathered, but he found only empty chairs. The woman who’d led me down to the arch must’ve gotten everyone off the ship. As far as I was concerned, letting them leave was more mercy than they deserved. If someone remained, it was on them.
“I’m not praying to him!” Elaine clenched her fists, making the scars on her arms stand out. “He’s the reason I’m here. Ten months! Ten months I haven’t seen my baby. My husband probably thinks I’m dead. My parents…”
Solina, the younger chained-up woman, hugged her.
Of all of them, Elaine had the most fight left in her, but she was like a knife that had been sharpened too much—dangerous yet brittle. She’d almost attacked the old man. Garvey had served Aaron voluntarily. He hadn’t been a slave or taken against his will; he had witnessed everything Aaron had done, and he’d stayed because Aaron had made it worth his while. Garvey deserved everything she wanted to do to him, but Elaine didn’t deserve having to live with it.
“I know it’s hard,” I told her. “And you’re angry. You have a right to be angry. But we must get these chains off so everyone can go home. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the kids.”
Elaine looked around at the clump of chained-up children. Her expression went slack.
“Are we good?” I asked her.
She nodded.
I pulled a small plastic bag out of one of my belt pockets and emptied the mix of herbs into the fire. Blue sparks burst from the fire, filling the air with a thick, smoky aroma. I funneled my magic into the flames, pulled a small vial of my blood out of another pocket, and dripped a few drops into the bonfire.
The flames turned crimson.
The fire pulsed with magic like a giant heart beating.
I didn’t even try to speak Gaelic. I only knew a handful of words, and I’d offend him more than anything. He’d bargained with Aaron so he’d understand me.
“Manannán mac Lir,” I said, sending another splash of magic into the fire.
“Manannán mac Lir,” the chained people intoned behind me.
“Son of the Sea.”
“Son of the Sea.”
“Lord of Emain Ablach…”
“Lord of Emain Ablach…”
“Mag Mell, and Tír Tairngire.” Some of those were technically synonymous, but no god ever wanted less titles. I kept going, echoed by a chorus.
“Over-King of Tuatha Dé Danann, Weaver of Magic Mists Féth Fíada, He who Captains the Self-Guiding Boat Sguaba Tuinne, He who Rides the Steed Aonbharr, your people seek you in their hour of need. We beg you to speak to us.”
They were his people. They might have come from different mythological origins, but all of them were people of the sea.
Nothing. Just ruby-colored flames. I hadn’t expected him to answer right away. It was a very long shot. Most deities refused to manifest, even for the briefest instant. Not only that, but this entire set-up functioned as a faith factory for him. That dumpster of gold was proof of his existence and power. He would know that I was calling to end it, and he’d be reluctant to part with it.
I didn’t share that fact with anyone because Elaine was on edge as it was. I needed them united and committed to begging.
The fire crackled.
I started over. “Manannán mac Lir, Son of the Sea…”
Fire calls were like a ringing phone, annoying and difficult to ignore. And I had a feeling Manannán might have gotten himself an avatar. In the myths, he liked to travel. The fire call would bug him even more than usual.
“Manannán mac Lir, Son of the Sea…”
“Manannán mac Lir, Son of the Sea…”
“Manannán mac Lir, Son of the Sea…”
“Manannán mac Lir, Son of the Sea…”
The flames flashed blue. A man rose from the fire. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular, he was naked to the waist. A long kilt or a belted robe hung off his hips, merging with the flames. His long hair and beard were the color of sea foam. His eyes were a deep, piercing blue.
“What?” Manannán demanded.
Finally.
I knelt. Everyone behind me knelt as well.
“Aaron is dead. We’ve returned your gold. Please release your people from your chains.”
“Who are you to bargain with me?”
“The killer of Neig.”
The deity pondered me. I kept kneeling. Dropping a dragon’s name should buy me some street cred.
“I meant for him to suffer for eternity. You’ve cut it short. You released him from his penance.”
“He was wrong to ransom your child. But since then, he has taken other children from their families. They suffer the way your child suffered, separated from their parents, denied the warmth and love of their family. They are innocent. We beg you to undo these chains.”
“They should be punished with him. All of you should be punished for allowing him to live and harm my child.”
I was wrong for killing him and also wrong for allowing him to live, and everyone should suffer. Tuatha Dé, ever so consistent and reasonable.
“We’ve corrected our mistake.”
“Too little, too late.”
I made a small motion with my hand. The three smallest children crawled forward, crying and wailing. We’d rehearsed it.
“Please, Father of Fiachra, Father of Niamh…”
The kids cried.
“…Father of Eachdond Mor, Father of…”
He grunted. “Enough! What do you offer?”
Shit. He wanted an offering. I didn’t have anything. Nothing valuable enough.
Think, think, think…
“What do you offer in compensation?” Manannán repeated.
“This ship.”
“This ruin?”
“This ship is a monument to human arrogance. It had cost untold riches to build and been filled with luxurious treasures, and yet it wasn’t used to transport goods or carry people across the waves from one destination to another. It went around in a circle, returning to the same port with all of its passengers still on board. It was built specifically for leisure, so humanity, in its conceit, could spend a few days floating on the ocean and scoffing at its power. It’s the vessel of people who thought they had conquered the sea.”
Manannán considered it. I held my breath.
“Is it yours to give?”
“Yes. I killed Aaron, so everything that was his is now ours. Please accept this vessel as our humble offering.”
“I agree. Remember my mercy.”
“Always, Lord Manannán.”
He disappeared.
The chains fractured and vanished. Someone cried out, as if unable to believe it.
The sea surged through the hole, licked the fire, and put it out in an instant.
Far ahead, at the cliffs, a wall of water rose, dark and menacing, climbing higher and higher. Something moved inside it. Something with very long tentacles.
“We have to go!” I barked.
Solina grabbed Antonio’s hand. “This way!”
Everyone ran after her, and I brought up the rear, keeping the kids in front of me. Garvey followed us, scrambling to keep up. We dashed down the pitch-black hallway, scurrying through the bowels of the ship on feel alone.