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What would warriors like Calix think if they knew Ryton scoured other kynd’s ancient sites?

Ryton’s father had taught him to fight his curiosity. A waste of time, his father had said. And potentially dangerous if the queen’s spies see you skulking about.

Sea folk elders trained the young to study only their own works and history. Tutors and instructors explained that the other kynd were lesser, low, and any influence from them degraded one’s center of power.

But Ryton couldn’t help himself. Truly, the risk made the adventure more exciting.

Four guards in silvery shell helmets stood watch at the door to the great hall. Ryton forced himself to walk instead of swim so he wouldn’t appear too eager to leave the queen's home.

Tonight, he was headed to the Tristura Sea. As the last known dwelling of humans, it was off limits to all sea folk. Echo, another talented scout for the queen, had told him about it in passing. Spoiled human flesh, rotting bones, sharks, and foul magic tainted the waters there.

It sounded fascinating.

In the castle courtyard, emerald coral grew tall and wide. Yellow veil fish nibbled at the flickering light of the algae that hung from the coral’s branches. The fishes’ two-foot-long fins waved in the current, looking much like veiled brides walking down the mating path.

“Wait!” a guard shouted.

Ryton whipped his feet through the water, the webbing between his toes catching expertly, and faced the male. “Yes?”

“The Sea Queen says she forgot to tell you that she’ll view the new recruits in three days’ time.”

Fuming, he bit his tongue. It was too soon. He’d have to spend all night and the next two training. The lack of sleep would weaken him. But if he argued more than he already had, he might end up with a spear pointed at his throat.

“Of course.” He inclined his head respectfully.

The guard disappeared into the castle again, and Ryton swam off in a rush, no longer caring if anyone saw him in a hurry to leave. There would be no adventuring tonight. He had to fetch Grystark and get started on spellwork right away.

Ryton found Grystark in The Rogue Wave Tavern.

The owner had built the place to mimic the grandeur of the castle, but instead of using rare red coral to shape the walls, he had covered basic gray sea stone in fluorescent scarlet algae.

Though the tavern brought the stories of red elf hair to mind, Ryton thought it rather homey.

Its muted glow lit Grystark’s narrow, lined face.

Ryton’s heart warmed to see his old friend.

“Ryton!” Grystark handed him a twist of spiced kelp.

Smiling, he pushed the offering away. He had to keep his head straight and spiced kelp, if aged poorly, could turn folk upside down with giddiness. “We have work to do, unfortunately.”

A server, a pretty female with big eyes and a quick swim, asked Ryton what he would like. He ordered a net of mollusks and gave her three quality mother-of-pearl pieces. She tucked one into her sea linen chemise and brought the other two pieces to her boss behind the counter.

After Ryton informed his officer and friend about the recruits—keeping the information about the doomed attack to himself for now—Grystark put his own length of spiced kelp inside the bag on his belt.

“These recruits are fools,” Grystark said. “But three of them show promise with the spellwork.”

The mollusks were fresh and of nice texture. Ryton polished them off quickly. “At least we have folk to recruit.”

For years and years, his kynd had not been able to reproduce.

A plague had swept through Ryton’s generation and rendered many infertile.

Thankfully, the next generation had been able to procreate in small numbers.

Thus, this new group of young warriors recruited to refresh the queen’s forces were about fifteen years old now.

Too bad most of them would die to achieve their goal of washing the world in salt water. He longed to see Matriarch Amona’s face right before it was all over. When she had no place to land, when her loved ones burned like she had burned Selene.

“Our former Queen,” Grystark said as they swam away from the tavern, “would have demanded that a third of the newly matured remain at Tidehame to help with the farming of seaweed, the raising of the young, and for further procreation.”

“And dragons killed that queen.”

Frowning, Grystark eyed the dark water and the pearl-white specks of glowing snails on the sand below. “Not because she cared for more than war.”

“Be careful, Gry, She has ears everywhere.”

“Not on my good friend’s own head, I hope.” Grystark slapped Ryton gently across the back of his skull.

“I have my own mind still,” Ryton snapped, sounding angrier than he’d intended. “I believe in the queen’s goal. The world will be ours and we will make it sing.”

“With the screams of fifteen-year-old sea folk.”

Ryton rounded on his friend. “Gry. You have to stop talking like this.”

“No one cares what an old one like me says.”

“You are a general in the queen’s army. Everyone cares what you say.

And she’ll end you if you speak out against her.

” Ryton wanted to tell him that he was his last friend and that Ryton couldn’t bear to lose him like he’d lost everyone else.

But that smacked of a desperation Ryton didn’t want to acknowledge right before entering the training grounds to command fresh recruits.

“Please. Just … think before you open that big mouth of yours.”

“For you, Ryton, I’ll do that.”

Grystark shook off Ryton’s hold on him and swam through the archway of black dynami coral to the training grounds. The glittering edges of blackgold seaweed threw light over every face and weapon.

“One last traitorous thing,” Grystark whispered. “Do you think the Lapis realize now how bloodthirsty our Queen is? Is that why they haven’t called for a peace meeting in well over a year?”

“Perhaps they’ve teamed up with the Jades again,” Ryton said. “Do you find it odd that the two dragon races are so different?”

Grystark looked over his shoulder and he was right to do it. This type of talk didn’t make one popular. Two sentries zipped past, on their way to the boundary waters under the northern cliffs no doubt. “Both types of dragons want us dead. What does it matter which strategy they use?”

“It matters because it speaks of motivation,” Ryton said.

His lieutenant handed him a coral spear.

Ryton ran a finger over the sharp edge. Water magic rushed over his hand, sending a rushing sound through the grounds, joining with the magic of the other warriors.

“And if you know your opponent’s motivation, you know exactly how to gut them. ”

“This is why you are High General,” Grystark said, “And I’m not, despite my experience and additional years of service.”

Ryton gave Grystark a playful shove. “Nah. That’s because of your love for naps.”

Grystark’s mouth dropped open. “I use my off time to rejuvenate my power. No shame in that.”

“Yes. Sure. An hour after mid-meal is one thing, but three hours? I’m surprised you manage to keep up any form of relationship. Why does Lilia put up with you?”

Grystark winked. “I’ll give you one guess.”

A new recruit swam up from the ocean floor with a training spear. He hovered, mid-depth, with Ryton and Grystark. “High General, would you like me to call the rest?”

“Please do. Anything to stop Grystark from continuing his little bragging session here.”

The recruit nodded, then swam a few feet away. He extended his arms and spoke the spell to demand the presence of all new warriors in Grystark’s and Venu’s units.

The enlisted fell into proper rows on the pale sand, their coral and shell spears in hand and their eyes lifted to where Ryton, Grystark, and now Venu, swam.

Ryton returned Venu’s salute, giving the black-haired male a grim smile. Venu wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he was a great military leader.

Swimming forward, Ryton addressed the units. “Soon, we will launch attacks we never could’ve dreamed of in the past. You must rise to the occasion and become full-fledged warriors in less time than any that came before you. First, you must understand our enemy.

“Jades are aggressive and will sacrifice themselves to accomplish their army’s goals. Never think a Jade dragon will shy away or say no to a risk. The answer for them is always raw violence, and their skill in the sky is unparalleled.

“The Lapis are another story entirely. Crafty. Cunning. Less physically capable than Jades as a whole, they use complicated strategy to win their battles. We recently downed one of their greatest generals.”

A cheer went up, waves of sound echoing through the glowing water and rippling the blackgold seaweed.

“Yes. A massive achievement. Not only had this Lapis General killed scores of our kynd during his long career, he nearly destroyed our Blackwater source. His unit liquified the upper reaches of protective coral, blasting the salt water away and giving up their lives to do it. Thankfully, we stopped their progress with well-aimed and well-spelled spears.”

Another shout rose and webbed fists waved.

Ryton raised a hand to quiet them as he swam low, nearing Grystark’s unit specifically.

“When next we fight these dragons, you must be ready.” He longed to impart the importance of their commitment to excellence.

If they failed, Ryton would lose not only them, but quite possibly the only friend he had left in this world.

A young female stared right back at him as he detailed the drills they would go through today. Her bright, brilliantly orange eyes filled with fervor. He blinked, realizing she reminded him of his sister Selene.

“What is your name, warrior?”

“Sansya.”

“This one,” he said, waving her to the front of the unit.

“The tides are powerful in this soldier. I can see it here.” He pointed at her face, and she straightened her back further, her feet eddying the water expertly and her spear held completely still.

She was a natural in controlled swimming, not a float-about like so many of the younger generation.

Ryton addressed all. “Make it your aim to stand out when your brigadiers and captains are looking for a leader. Do not accomplish this on the backs of others. Achieve greatness by following your orders exactly, using initiative when necessary, and training with your whole heart, every second of every day. Then and only then, we will win this war.”

The units called out as Sansya swam back to her place. The drills began, led by each one hundred unit captains.

Ryton, Grystark, and the quiet, but efficient Venu visited their brigadiers and then each captain’s hundred, giving suggestions on spells to cast over their spears to make them fly through the water more quickly or to use the weapons to throw spelled salt water through the air.

Grystark was especially good at teaching the magic needed to use whirlpools, unusual currents, and eddies to raise the sea level.

Ryton spent hours with the unit the queen herself had trained to multiply the waters.

Ryton repeated the spell, careful to use proper vibration in the lips and tongue so the magic would wake and turn sand to water.

The unit shouted at the mounds of snail-dotted sand and the sound rushed around their heads before blasting into the sea floor to create a new wave of salt water.

Ryton looked up, his sharp gaze on the distant surface of the sea. The ocean trembled with their efforts, the waves riotous.

It was a storm without rain or wind, and Ryton was proud indeed of his army. These were his kynd, and he would always be loyal.

For you, Selene, he said silently to himself. For you, I’ll see them all die.

But his pleasure in a job well done was fleeting.

Eventually, he had to talk to Grystark about Astraea’s desire to lure the dragons to Tidehame again.

They had to come up with a suitable strategy that wouldn’t end with Grystark dead and Ryton mourning the last of a group of friends and the final stab to his already sorely wounded heart.

He had lost them all, one by one, to dragons.

But by the seas, he was not going to lose Grystark.