Deities of Deceit

Chapter Fifty-four

I bolted to him, wrapped my arms around his chest, and took us deeper. My speed comparable to that of his lightning. He stopped moving for a time, momentarily overcome by the torture the lightning inflicted on him. Twenty feet below sea level and his eyes shot open, in the same breath, he resumed his assaults, fighting to free himself from my hold, wreaking havoc on my ribs then my face.

Twenty-five thousand feet below sea level was when I heard the first hum of the giant sea sirens, nine-foot-tall aquatic creatures that dwelt in the darkest part of the ocean where no human could reach. They had taken notice of our arrival and came to see if were a foe, or a friend. I was a friend and had been since the war.

My eyes remained forward and focused, but from my peripheral, I could see them. First a few tens, then so much more, silver-blue bodies with green hues surrounded me from left to right, above and below. Their song, a vibrational hum only intended for the ears of those blessed to understand the way of water filled my ears.

Sea sirens were monstrous creatures in appearance, half of them the body of fish, the other half attempting to resemble a human form with two arms, ten fingers over six inches long and pointed, designed to tear into food or any deemed enemy of the sea. Large eyes the shape of almonds, ears the shape of fins, and blush full lips. With no use for nostrils, they had scales by their ribs. Their hair appeared to be made of various harmless sea plants, but only a touch could poison one to death if they intended it so.

They worshipped the great python goddess, Idemili, half python, half human. Though she was known to often take human form to lure enemies to their demise, she also saved thousands of Africans thrown into the ocean by colonizers to drown to death during the war. She was just as monstrous in appearance but gentle in heart as those who served her beneath the sea, in contrast to what the history books said. The history books never favored monsters, because ugliness and a good deed did not make a great tale.

Thirty-five thousand feet below sea level and we crashed into the sea bed, creating a crater. White sand rose in the water like dust in the air and Nimah was quick to resume his fight, his palm tightly wrapped around my neck. The sea sirens shrieked, their song growing louder. An enemy of a friend to the sea was an enemy to the sea, and that was all they saw.

I freed myself from Nimah's clawing hold and they took swipes at his impenetrable flesh, streaks of silver blood poured from him, filling the dark ocean with so much light as he screamed, his voice muffled by the water. The sirens were having a swell time, they hadn't seen much of a fight since the war ended. They clawed at him with happy throat laughs, till he could barely move, his legs planted in the soft sand refusing to bend.

"Bilie," Rise, I incanted in my mind.

Like trees sprouting from the ground came chains, made of stone and ice. The water twisted itself to mold the perfect chains to subdue him. They wrapped around his feet, hands, neck, and waist, squeezing until his skin began to bruise. Waving a hand, I began to part the water, creating a small ring of dry land around him leaving me floating in the water.

"Thank you," I signed with a smile in Mitowari. Sea language of the sirens.

They snickered, rustling about in happiness, their silver-blue skin glittering. The sirens were ever so happy to help whenever I called. And if humans weren't so spooked by monsters I believed they would have been happy to dwell alongside them, too. But one sight of them and humans aimed their spears to kill.

Slowly I descended, resting my feet on the soft squishy sand as I parted the water, creating more space. Nimah was still drawing a long shaky breath, coughing and spitting out water, his body still leaking silver blood. Wounds inflicted by sirens took time to heal, even for a god. He tugged at his chains, seething in anger. His glare followed me closely as I sauntered toward him, nothing but hate and spite.