Beachrock

Amidst the throes of waves, Mera ascended from the oceans depths. Her face was stern yet sultry as the green eyed beauty examined the long but empty beach. The desolate area had been abandoned in favour of the indoors or higher sheltered areas as the storm continued to flurry. Mera would have been at the forefront of a hunt for the source but the prosperity of Amnesty Bay and the townships that surrounded it where not her concern – she cared only for her own home, something that would seem cold and callous if said a loud. In the days since she had crossed the mariner known to the humans as Aquaman, Mera had laid the groundwork for the meeting that now brought her to the surface world once again. It had crossed her mind upon meeting the blond-haired, blue-eyed boy wonder but she had dismissed the rumours as childish hopes that she had been ordered and taught to let die the slow agonising deaths that had become her people.

There was a foreboding sense of tranquillity as she stood on the wet sand, stricken by rain and watched the waves lap around her feet. It offered a peace that could not last – the eye of the storm but perhaps not the storm that they currently survived. The water had left her red hair in a damp messy bundled chignon that rested across her shoulder. Her pale skin was contained beneath a tight, form-fitting black wetsuit with dark emerald lining on the seams. The zipper was drawn slightly, exposing the shapely bosom of the beauty but more importantly, allowing her to breath without further constraint. Aquatic as she may be, even Mera’s people shared a common need for oxygen.

“Rodunn warned me that you would come. I do not run.”

Mera grimaced as she turned towards the man who had approached her with all the countenance of a blue whale. “I’m not here to collect any foolish bounty that Orm may have placed on your head, scientist. I come seeking only information.” Her eyes narrowed as she examined the dishevelled man, so unremarkable in appearance that she barely recognised him as an Atlantean. Her bright red hair was a unique and whimsical trait but the man was void of any and all peculiarities. Perhaps it was for the best when he had been exiled for over ten years.

“What is it that you want?”

“I have spoken with Atlanna.”

He smirked. “The old Queen still lives.”

“Barely.”

Mera noticed the concern that etched across the elder man’s sullen and weary features. He wasn’t the man that Rodunn had described to her. His head was balding yet there was a ponytail that came from the back, and his beard was unkempt and pointed. Her news seemed to cause him some discomfort. Nuidis Vulko had at one point in his lengthy life been an advisor to the Royal Family of Atlantis, and he had been both a friend and a confidant to the eldest princess of that dynasty – Atlanna. However, she had – as rumour went – committed an atrocity and all those connected with the conspiracy where exiled whilst the once beloved princess was locked under the catacombs of the watery city, destined to die in isolation.

“She remains in captivity?”

Mera nodded. “She is serving a life sentence in isolation.”

Vulko paused. His face terse. “Atlanna’s only sin was misguided and irresponsible love.” There was a mournful quality to his voice that laid the woman to believe there had been something more to his relationship with the one-time Queen than just friend.

However, as much of her life had been eradicated from public record, the current generations of the Atlantean populace were unaware of the crimes she was believed to have committed.Love had peaked the redhead’s interest.

“If she’s in isolation then how did you manage to find her?”

She shrugged. “I think little of Orm and even less of his regime. I have many allies within the city that are willing to die in order to reinstate the royal family and return Atlanna to her throne.”

There was a brief pause.

“I met a man–”

Vulko snorted. “I can’t offer any advice on that.”

Distaste crossed the porcelain features of the stoic young woman, her eyes narrowing to a glare that reproached the man who attempted to make light of her. “I believe him to be the youth of the prophecy that condemned her. Ignorant and unruly as most when raised under the negligent eyes of a mortal yet he possessed the abilities of an Atlantean and the bright blond hair of–”

Vulko stopped her. “Why are you chasing fairy tales?”

“It is fact.”

“Even if it is. It’s in the past and the past cannot be changed. Not by anyone.” Vulko shifted uneasily. “We serve our punishment with dignity. It is an honour to suffer for our Queen.”

“A Queen deposed and without power? Her tyrannical nephew runs the city into ruin. He is on the brink of war with several tribes of merfolk. He is a mad king.”

“Yet, he is your king and this is treason.”

Mera scoffed. “Consider me a traitor to the Crown then.”

Vulko’s eyes moved away from her face and focused on the emerald that rested on her forehead, clasped in a magnificent golden diadem that was caught in her fiery mane. He had seen it in some of his oldest teachings, the books he had read when he had been a scholar but no good had ever come from toying with the tokens of the distant past. His vision clouded over as the elderly man reached forward. Mera backed away, her face contorted in confusion as she lifted her own fingers to trace the golden circlet.

“What?”

Vulko snarled. “Where did you get that?”

“It was an heirloom.”

“Xebel.”

Mera’s brow furrowed. “Do you have a point?”

“If that is an heirloom then you are a descendent of Kalari, the sister of Atlan who was married to the warlord Xebel as part of a peace treaty. You neglected to reveal your identity to me,Princess.”

“The Kingdom of Xebel fell many years ago. I’m a princess of nothing, not that any of that matters.”

Vulko sighed. “It matters that you are in possession of an ancient artefact, forged by Atlan himself. The Diadem of the Depths grants abilities beyond those of our kind.”

Mera tensed her lips. “My diadem is of no concern to you. I seek the advice of a scientist and a confidante of the deposed Atlanna. What do you know of her issue?”

“Only that she did bear a child with hair as golden as the sun.” Vulko frowned. “And that he lives.”

Mera nodded, turning back to the waves without gratitude.

RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

Part III

By

Paige McMahon

Amnesty Bay

“Miss Swift–“

She turned at the sound of her name to see an oncoming toddler. Tears welling in his eyes as he hurriedly approached her. “Tony?”

“I can’t find my mommy.”

Kako looked around the mass of frenzied Amnesty Bay residents. The citizens had all been moved to the high school for protection against the storm and the rising tide that battered along the edges of the coastal cities. Drawing the youth into her arms, Kako offered a soft smile. Being a kindergarten teacher had left her with a fondness of children and she determined to find his mother immediately as soon as he requested it. Yet, the Alaskan Native American woman found her mind shifting towards the harsh reality that Arthur – her boyfriend of two years – hadn’t come into the refuge from the on-going storm. His loud-mouthed partner-in-crime Eva was dripping in her shorts only several feet away. There was no love lost between the two women, especially not when Arthur had spoken with Eva and neglected her.

Brushing her long black hair behind her ear, the beauty grimaced. In Alaska, a snowstorm had been her only concern. Now, she faced a potentially hazardous tsunami. Stranded and feeling isolated, Kako realised just how much she had failed to integrate into the society that she had made her home.

Stepping towards the rendezvous point, hand-in-hand with Tony, she met his mother. The extremely overweight Mrs. Jefferson squealed with delight as she scooped her son into her arms. It was a moment of pure joy amidst the hectic flurry and fear for the residents of Amnesty Bay. The small South Carolinian harbour town was normally such an idyllic and tranquil place, or at least, it had been until the environmental terrorist known as Aquaman had landed on their shores and pillaged through the progressive movements of the local industry. Mason was a man of forethought and planning, and his ambitions had been safeguarding the environment as he mined the oil – if only the mariner would stop his murderous rampage.

“Torres.”

Eva swerved to make eye-contact with Kako. Her messy brown bob was still damp from the storm – she had only made it to the school thirty minutes beforehand.

“You said Arthur was on his way.”

Eva nodded. “And he is.”

“Then why isn’t he here? He couldn’t have been that far behind you.”

“I don’t know, Kako. You’ll have to ask him when he gets here.” She shrugged. “The storm’s bad but Arthur and I have been playing in around the ocean in storms since we were kids. If there’s anyone on this island you don’t have to worry about, it’s him.”

“You could do with worrying a bit more.”

“Excuse me?” snapped the bartender.

Kako frowned. “You don’t seem to concerned that Arthur’s lost out there in a storm. You could at least feign some interest.”

“Look, I get that you’re worried. Everyone is worried. The whole town could go Atlantis before the day ends but don’t take your frustrations out on me,” Eva snarled. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. So feel free to disappear.”

Kako glared.

Instead of a rebuttal, the Native American woman turned her attention to her watch and counted the minutes.

Comstock

Shades of crimson floated around his face as the tides quickened, the attack had been so quick he hadn’t even noticed his assailant but he saw him clearly now. Well, as clearly as the murky depths allowed him too. Aquaman burst upward, clearing his vision and allotting himself an extra few seconds to think of a plan of action. Quick fire strategies had never been his speciality. He was as much of an impulsive brute as the ‘honourable’ Governor Mason believed him to be. Aquaman certainly wasn’t the monster of that particular tale though. His arms crossed before his face as the now familiar hint of silver slammed through the water. It caught on his sleeve but he sustained no damage. He freed himself and clasped his hand around what he perceived to be a weapon. His eyes were soon opened to the truth. It was a tail. He used all of his might to pull the creature from the sandy floor but the weight was heavier than he could have imagined. The texture of the tail was almost metallic. The creature slithered further into the shadows, drawing blood from the palms of his hands.

Arthur muttered an array of expletives that would have left him chastised on land. Kako took her elementary school lifestyle all the way into her home life.

It was unusual for him to be in so much pain. Aquaman, although he may have disliked the mantle, had never been particularly challenged by any of his previous ventures. He had no idea what he was, for it certainly wasn’t human, but he wasn’t as invulnerable as he would have liked. He could fight men with guns and ships but there was something else stalking the harbour-side town of Amnesty Bay. His thoughts were scattered but he had to capture whatever had just injured him. It was feral in its techniques which meant that the mariner could easily gain the upper hand if he kept his mind focused. He turned as a shark plummeted towards him. He dodged it.

The trails of blood from his open wounds swiftly followed.

Amnesty Bay’s tepid waters meant that sharks were common but attacks were often low. He had never found them to be much more than a nuisance as he’d swam the oceans. Yet, this creature knew how to exploit its environment in ways that wouldn’t have occurred the young hero. Aquaman recollected himself quickly. He was more than a match for a shark but there were priorities beyond those. The “creature of the depth” would escape if he didn’t ready himself and so he made the best of a bad situation. Swimming at a speed beyond that of a human athlete, Arthur slammed his body into the sand. It cascaded through the water, distilling the blood in the oceans currents and allowing him to make his way from the gnashing jaws of the shark. It wouldn’t hold it for long.

In the distance lay glints of silver.

Speeding his pace, Aquaman stretched forward. His eyes furrowed as he closed in on the creature that had threatened him. Its sentience was something that made him anxious and he made the presumption it was the cause of the storms that raged above the water’s froing surface. This creature hadn’t presented a frenzied attack. Instead he had been methodical in injuring his opponent and luring forward the nearby shark. Although seemingly maniacal, the man who had once been known as Doctor Deering was certainly more prepared than the mariner had originally credited him for. Aquaman would have to up his game if he intended to take down the creature and protect his home. Still, the ranting insults of Deering played on his mind. Sinking Amnesty Bay, the society that he believed had wronged him, was only the first part of his plan for revenge. The second was definitely was more confusing to the South Carolinian. Dry up Atlantis, he frowned as the words played in his mind again. He would get answers.

Arthur threw his body faster through the water. He used his elbow in driving the creature further into the sand that it now scurried across. Deering screeched but unable to slither from the man’s clutches on this occasion. It seemed the metallic suit, that had already done so much injury to the youthful mariner, had been damaged in the attack. He didn’t have much time to rejoice as the victory wasn’t yet his. Deering released another screech but it was unlike the first. It hurled itself through the oceans and disorientated the hero. His hands instinctively shot to his ears but nothing was quietened. The pain was not his only concern, even though the frequency forced him onto his knees. Memories bounded around his head, further crippling the man. He saw his father and he realised that his current endeavours could not change what had already past. Although Tom could be his inspiration, everything Arthur did would never change the past and in a way, his selfishness had been what urged him into acts of environmental terrorism.

Deering emerged from the suit that had been little more than a cocoon that hid the truthful extent of his transformation. High levels of compression and a shortened period of evolution seemed to have gripped the man. Deering’s body was now unimaginable, even to the mariner who based his life in a semi-aquatic environment.

Greyscale skin shimmered ahead of him, a tuft of white hair resting on the back of the head, and a widened smirk that exposed his almost shark-like rows of razor-pointed teeth. Aquaman grimaced at the sight but quickly regained composure against the foe who had already proven to be a tricky and competent enemy. Deering was no longer a man, he was a hybrid of earth and sea and his mind was warped beyond repair.

Aquaman had no choice.

In a burst of speed, the mariner caught the screeching creature in his arms. Deering clawed at his back, contorting to draw blood from Aquaman’s shoulders with his teeth, but the mariner continued. Shifting the weight of the enemy, Aquaman snapped him in two as if he had been a piece of wood. On land there would have been a deafening crack but in the silent depths of the oceans, only the flowing blood exposed the true extent of the wound. Looking at what he had done, the all-American blond loosened his grip and floated several feet from the body of Deering – which was suspended aimlessly in the water – and the mariner only turned when the frenzied sharks arrived for feeding.

With a kick, he headed to the surface of the water.

Amnesty Bay

Arthur panted as he burst through the waves and pressed his hands against the cold hard rocks of the coast. His heart was panicked at the memory of the brutal murder he had just committed and raised serious concerns. How could he protect the world he loved without becoming the monster he feared? His head was swimming with pain and anger as he latched his hands onto the rocks and drew himself upon them. Once upright, he allowed himself to collapse onto the damp sand as the tide continued to waver around his legs. The mariner had never felt so tired after a mission but the battle of the depths with Deering had been an experience that he wasn’t in a hurry to repeat. His life an environmental terrorist, if he had to accept the title, had been almost casualty free.

His morality was tested.

“Well done, Aquaman.”

He looked up.

“Don’t worry. Ah can keep a secret.”

Moving to his feet, despite the tense strain that threatened to overcome him, Arthur towered above the petite woman who had addressed him. In many ways, they were physically alike. Both had been fortunate in the appearance department, and her long blonde hair was drawn across her breasts in a rather messy and damp fishtail braid. Her eyes were possibly colder than his but they lacked the depth of experience that the eco-warrior had accumulated over the last year and a half of his agenda. Her accent hinted at a strongly southern heritage and her skin was pale and delicate, almost as if she had never been exposed to sunlight. Yet, despite the great beauty before him, Arthur found himself uncomfortable and guarded. Behind her smile was a sense of something dark and sinister that he couldn’t quite understand.

“Ah have t’ admit, it is nice to finally put a name t’ that pretty little face of yours,” she smiled enchantingly as she extended a hand. “Ah’m Dale Conroy.”

He crossed his arms.

“Ah saw y’ leavin’ that lighthouse on the hill,” she continued. “Glimmerin’ orange may not be the best choice yer lookin’ for stealth.”

His mind raced. She’d witnessed him, and the lighthouse could be traced directly back to Arthur Curry and expose the truth behind his identity. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Dale purred. “Ah’m just a big fan.”

Dale extended her hand for a second time but this time she didn’t wait for a handshake. She traced her finger along the wound he had sustained on his shoulder towards the end of the battle only moments beforehand. The blood was relatively fresh but not much had been drawn, in his turmoil he hadn’t even noticed. Shifting her body closer to the suspicious mariner, she moved her hand across the orange chainmail that guarded his chest against most incidents he had crossed so far. Aquaman didn’t allow her to continue as he caught her hand firmly in his own.

Options crossed his mind and, although he wasn’t proud of it, one stuck out the most. Arthur could dispose of Dale, throw her body into the ocean and the woman would be considered as nothing more than a fatality of the storm. It was a simple solution but the thought had no sooner crossed his mind than he became repulsed. Dale may have been a threat to his identity but she was a threat to no one else and, although he wasn’t sure he could justify any murder, he most certainly couldn’t justify the murder of the woman.

No, he thought, he was a hero and there had to be some other way. Arthur released her hand from his tightened grasp and moved back from her.

“What do you want?”

Dale smirked. “Ye’ll know when ah ask for it.”

“I believe we owe you a debt, fish bait.”

Arthur looked over his shoulder. His gaze was almost absent as the threat of the woman – Dale Conroy – rung fresh and continuously in his mind. In frustration, or perhaps retreat, the mariner had returned to the devastation of Governor Mason’s oil rig. It had been with the redhead who now hovered behind him that he had destroyed and accidentally murdered all of the men and women on board. He could consider them all monsters but he would only be lying to himself. Mason was a menace but those under his employ where just offshore workers trying to provide for their families. The Little Mermaid seemed to hold a different opinion of the activities but he had since learned that she wasn’t quite human and, in his own mind, she was the connection between knowing his true origins or remaining wilfully ignorant – a decision he struggled with.

“I had a feeling you’d turn up.”

“Aquaman–“

He interjected. “Don’t call me that. It’s not my name. I’m AC.”

“Do you willingly reveal your identity to strangers?”

He shrugged. “I’m trying it out while I have a choice.”

There was a tense moment of silence, and he was aware that she didn’t understand his situation or the emotions he felt as they stood there.

“Mera.”

Arthur turned.

“My name is Mera.”

“I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Mera,” his eyes were cold and dead. “Still, everything you see right now. Broken and burnt as it is, that was us. We did this. The bodies have been pulled from the wreckage where we left them.”

“War has fatalities.”

His eyes furrowed. “What war? This is a mission of freedom. I’m protecting the seas but that doesn’t mean I’m waging a war on the land. There has to be a middle ground.”

“You don’t see the larger picture.”

Arthur exhaled.

“The rigs, the storm,” Mera moved towards him. Her hand brushed face and drew it up to look into her shining eyes. “This has all been preparation, AC. Destinies way of preparing you for the wars that are to come.” Repositioning herself, she became stern. “You can whimper like an infant or you can strong and take control of what’s to come.”

Mera walked to the edge of the rig.

“I hope it’s the latter, or Atlantis will have no hope.”

She dove from sight.

“Atlantis?”

Amnesty Bay

“Nothing, Arthur.”

He heard Kako before he saw her. It wasn’t uncommon, for a woman with such a pleasant face she was uncharacteristically loud and volatile. Her long black hair swung around her face as she slammed the door of the lighthouse shut behind her. Undoubtedly beautiful, Kako was a whirlwind of emotions and insecurities that boiled so close to the surface that she could never be wholly happy. He had come to love her despite her flaws but he was still irked by the constant need she felt to be worshipped. Poised and confidant as she was in front of a classroom, Kako was a hot mess in the reality of her own home life. It was embarrassing how off-balance she truly was but Arthur, who would never admit the truth, was drawn to her by his own messiah complex. Kako was a woman that he could save, and every day felt like he was saving her – especially as people died through his actions.

“FEMA arrives and I don’t even get a word telling me where you are. You have time to speak with that little bar slut from the docks but not your own girlfriend?”

He frowned. “Don’t talk about Eva that way.”

“And now you’re defending her?” There was a look of incredulousness etched onto the Alaskan schoolteacher’s taut features. “Seriously?”

“She’s been my best friend since high school, Kako. I will always defend her,” he snapped. Normally, Arthur would sit back and right out the storm but as the harsh truths of his vigilante activities came to a head – the win against Deering did not erase the mistakes he had committed with Mera aboard that rig or the stress that Dale would reveal his identity. He couldn’t focus on melodrama when the world as he knew it was slipping from around him. “It’s not like that. She’s my friend. Get over whatever bullshit it is you have against her and look at this like a rational person. We’re here, and we’re alive and that’s pretty good going I would say.”

“But–“

“No, Kako.”

He held his hand up to silence her.

“I’m going to leave before we get into something we’re going to regret.”

To her surprise, Arthur stormed from the lighthouse. Kako’s mouth fell ajar as she realised what had just happened and that for the first time, amidst all of the arguments they had had, she had driven him from his home. Brushing her hand through her hair, she turned towards a mirror and stared into her won hazel eyes. Hating everything she saw, Kako lashed out and smashed the mirror into splinters of glass and blood as she backed away.

“Ow.”

Duchess of the Deep, Amnesty Bay

“Goddammit. Where are you, AC?”

“You sound worried. I didn’t know people where still missing?”

Eva stood behind the oaken bar that she had inherited from her father. He had named it the Duchess of the Deep in honour of the first boat that he had ever taught his only child to sail. Eva was the last of a legacy, the Argentinean America’s normally jovial face was etched with the unexpected expression of concern as she looked up from the phone she’d been using. Her hair was cropped into a stylishly haphazard brunette bob that framed her rounded face. Exhaling as she looked into the face of the patron, who she didn’t recognise despite normally having only a low turnover of regular visitors, Eva forced a smile onto her face.

There was something strikingly unusual about the woman that sat ahead of her. Besides the fact she looked like she had just stepped off of a Milan runway from the soft tussle of her honey-coloured hair to the lack of make-up and attire. She wore a biker jacket of green and red over a bra and hot pants, yet the chill that remained in the air didn’t seem to faze her. Her pale skin didn’t bear so much as a goose bump. As she drew a length of hair behind her ear, the smell of fresh saltwater seemed to assault the nostrils bar owner.

“My friend,” answered the barmaid. “The harbours being searched.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up.”

“You’re not from around here.”

“Astute,” replied the woman with her melodic accent. “I’m from Benin.”

Eva placed her hand around the nearest pint pump. “I would have guessed France. Or Canada.”

She nodded. “Close. Mon pére was a Frenchman.” There was a playfulness to her reply, the addition of her native language, that seemed to make Eva more easy around the stranger – offering a sense of familiarity as she had so many before the young woman. Putting forward a hand, she continued. “I’m Caitlin Morrison. I picked one hell of a day to come to town, eh?”

Next time on Aquaman: A body is thrown into the ocean, and a threat brews on Aquaman’s – and the entire oceans – future.