Villainous [Wattys 2021 Shortlist]

12: Prince of the Seas

The cloak was huge, heavy and wet, dripping with mud, encrusted with bits of shell and stone. The hair was made of reed stems, the face streaked with mud. Cunning eyes flashed out of this mud-mask, the only human aspect of the creature.

The mist hugged the monstrous thing. It loved its master.

A warning bell tolled, breaking through the silence, as the figure neared the huge moonstone doors.

Delilah shifted slightly, praying the doors would open. They had to. Ahura himself had come.

The mud had dried to her face, turned stiff, and she hoped it wouldn't crack. Slimy water from the reeds trickled steadily along her scalp, and the cloak was so heavy she felt like it would smother her.

The doors groaned open, and Delilah kept as still as possible so she wouldn't rock the boat concealed completely by mist - or what the priests would think was mist. She didn't move her head but tried to take in as much as possible: the huge courtyard almost completely filled with water except for a narrow path around the edges. Shimmering white buildings, all connected. A shrine opposite the man-made pool. Of course there would be a shrine - these people worshipped water, and the moon that controlled its tides.

The water carved their world, and they were at its mercy. One big wave could topple half the towns in the southern Delta.

The boat beneath her feet creaked and rocked slightly. Delilah didn't dare move, and she knew Dante didn't, either.

Priests clothed in blue and white robes were pouring from doors, peering out of windows.

"Who goes there?" one of them cried bravely.

It was time for Dante to eat his words - he hadn't thought she'd be able to put on a good show. Oh, how wrong he was.

"I am displeased with you, my servants," she cried, masking her voice with a husky, ancient whisper that carried throughout the courtyard. It was impossible to tell if she was male or female, young or old. Slowly, she raised both arms. "Do you not recognise me? I have awoken from my slumber in the depths. I have cracked the ice and breathed air, not water, so I could appear to you now. You displease me."

"No," someone breathed. "It can't be true."

"It can't be him!" another whispered, her voice a terrified shriek.

The boat bumped against the edge of the pool but Delilah stepped smoothly onto the moonstone path, so it looked like she hadn't stopped gliding. The mist shifted, still half-cloaking her from their sight, still concealing the boat.

Someone gave a high-pitched and rather annoying scream, as if they thought the mist would eat them. Delilah suppressed a smile. Oh, this was marvelous.

"What sacrifices have you made to appease me?" Delilah let a little thunder into her voice, and the clanspeople all cringed.

"B-But - forgive me, Ahura," the oldest and most senior-looking priest blubbered, dropping to his knees at her feet. "Only our sailors make offerings to you - when - when they go out to sea to trade or fish -"

"A sacrifice." She stooped, grabbed the silly man by the front of his robe, and drew her fearsome painted face towards his, letting him smell the lake-stench that clung to her. She let him take in her amber eyes. "I hunger for blood! I need it to sate me. Or else I shall sink your ships with a wave of my hand."

A congealed spot of mist drifted past her. Dante, on his way to look for the Water Opal.

Maybe she was overdoing it a little, she thought as she dropped the priest - he crumpled at her feet. But she was having oh so much fun. A thrill danced along her bones. This was sacrilege. Blasphemy. This was deceit, trickery.