Deeper and deeper into the gloom they went. The bubble of air encircling Milius’s head allowed him to breathe freely and remain dry from his chin up, but it did not improve his vision in any way, and from the neck down he was drenched. He wished that he could have gotten coral plating as well as Lumeus. He had tried to summon his own Dragonknight armour, but one of the water spirits had shot him a reproachful look as she glanced back and saw him draw his sword, and he hastily stowed it.

By now the water was so dark that he could barely see anything around him. He could only track the spirits by following the ripples they made in the water as they moved ahead of him…. Eventually, however, a patch of blue light swam into view … and another … and a dozen more…. The water around them suddenly came into clear focus as they descended into an area lit by the twinkling, light-blue glows of a vast group of jellyfish, spreading out across the water like a transparent, strobing curtain.

Milius could finally see the spirits again. Their skin looked more opaque now, and their dresses were gleaming in the jellyfish light. More blue light illuminated the area below, and Milius could just make out a small city, bustling with aquatic life, suspended in the water in a large, glistening bubble. From where he was, he could also see a massive stone statue, standing higher than any other building in the city.

It was a rather impressive sight, he thought, as a school of fish fluttered past them, but the spirits did not lead them to the city. Instead they veered left, toward a magnificent castle settled, like the city, inside an enormous bubble; a mass of coral and sea stones shooting into many turrets, towers, and divisions.

As they sailed over to it, Milius couldn't help but notice that the castle walls, like the buildings of the city that he could see, were a deep shade of blue. He was apprehensive at first about approaching the castle, but the spirits simply beckoned him forward impatiently and slipped through the bubble with a rather unpleasant squelching noise.

Milius followed; passing through the bubble gave him a very strange feeling — for a mere fraction of a second he felt as though someone had doused him with scalding water, for the next fraction he felt as though he had plunged into an ice bath, then the feelings vanished entirely a second later.

The gates to the castle loomed ahead of them: two large masses of cobblestone, with a single image of a giant squid carved across both gates, which were each flanked by a pearl-topped pillar. Two guards were standing in front of them, clutching huge swordfish like spears. They were built around the lines of Sirius and Shakil, with the same blue skin and cruel pitch-black eyes as the females. Their blue hair flowed down their backs, and unlike the women, their bodies were completely bare save for the glittering loincloths tied around their waists. The blue light illuminated them from behind, darkening their faces and giving them a rather sinister look about them.

“What is the meaning of this?” one said imperiously, pointing at Milius. His voice was cold, deep, and powerful, like the very water they were floating in. “You dare to bring a human into our home, to the Royal Palace? And with a dragon, no less!”

“He is a Dragonknight,” the youngest spirit said, as though that settled the matter. “He is here for a clove of Amphitrice. We have promised it to him in return for meeting with the King….”

Milius could not gather much from their faces, as the women's backs were turned to him and the men were half-hidden in shadow, but after a while the same guard spoke again. “Very well.” He swam past them and looked up. Milius followed his gaze, and failed to stifle a gasp.

A troop of blue men was floating near the top of the gates, all of them pointing swordfish-spears, shark-teeth knuckles, and other types of strange weapons down at him, as though waiting for a signal to leap down and attack. The guard shouted up in a rapid chattering noise rather than speaking in English as he had done earlier. A similar sound reached their ears and a few seconds later, all five spirits retreated slightly as the massive gates swung open.

“I will retrieve the Amphitrice,” the youngest spirit said, and she dashed off. The other two and Milius and Lumeus went forward, the gates creaking shut behind them. Lumeus now stopped gliding and instead made his way across the cobbled path on all fours. The doors of the castle came into clearer focus as they moved; enormous slabs of coral, with large glowing tridents hung from each one. On either side of them, a collection of the strangest plants Milius had ever seen were planted in turtle-shell pots, including one that waved vigorously at Milius as he passed.

Again, he noticed as they stopped in front of the doors, everything was the same shade of blue. The doors swung forward to admit them and they climbed the magnificent abalone-shell stairs and swept through them into the hall. Milius gasped again.

Enormous, cover-less tanks were placed at various angles of the cavernous throne room, with massive sea creatures floating around in them, snoozing or doing some kinds of tricks. Seashell mosaics lined the walls, forming patterns of all kinds of monstrous-looking sea creatures. Gleaming blue pillars — these ones a lighter shade than the outside walls — were shooting up into the ceiling. Milius’s eyes followed one all the way up and he found, with a jolt of surprise, that there was no ceiling.

The sight above was instead like peering through a vast, glassless window. The water level froze at a certain point just below the view-line, and large square sections of the ceiling each depicted a different scene: one of them displayed a mob of angry soldiers swarming a town, wrecking everything they came into contact with and cutting down villagers (Milius hastily looked away from this one); another showed a wide grassy plain; a pitch-black mountain that oddly resembled an upsidedown beaker (as he looked at this one, he felt a sudden and inexplicable surge of dread, which vanished as suddenly as it had come when he turned away) and most noticeable of all, the scene of the forest and lake that Milius and Lumeus had left behind only minutes ago.

Watching these scenes with an expression of great interest was the largest figure that Milius had ever seen. Indeed his first impression was that of a small, fleshy mountain.

He was wearing sweeping robes of a rich blue colour, embedded with hundreds of twinkling jewels and stones (inwardly, Milius felt a slight rush of relief, as he finally laid eyes on something that wasn't blue). His long, lustrous hair was elegantly braided with thick, glossy strands of seaweed, and his crown was a wreath of glistening fish scales. Surrounding him was a group of guards who were large in comparison to Milius, but ants in comparison to the king himself. His throne was an elaborately carved seat of ice, which seemed to be straining under his weight (there were cracks spreading along the base). Clearly it was magical, as normal ice would have already melted; it was also glowing with a watery blue light, illuminating the whole throne room.

Milius’s escorts flung themselves into ridiculously low bows as they reached a distance of about fifty feet away from his throne. “Lord Phontus,” one moaned from the floor.

“Hmm…?” the king rumbled, his eyes still fixed on the images where the ceiling should have been. Milius wondered whether the scenes were actually happening in real time, and if that were the case, did the king witness his conversation with the spirits before he had descended into the lake?

“We have brought you a visitor, My Lord,” the spirit continued.

“A Dragonknight,” her friend said with a pur in her voice. The king tore his gaze away from the ceiling and focused on Milius with even greater interest.

“Indeed?” he said eagerly. “Which one? Is it the Sapphire Knight?”

“No,” said Milius, who had dismounted Lumeus and was still struggling to decide whether he should bow or not. “I'm the new Amethyst Knight, actually.”

Though he still looked interested, a flicker of disappointment flashed across the king's boulder-sized face. “Ah, no worries my boy.... It's just that the Sapphires have always been my favourite.”

“Why?” Milius asked. The guards, the still-bowing spirits, and even the animals around him all flashed him furious looks. The king, however, did not seem offended.

“Ah, it's quite all right, you all,” he said. “Why are they my favourite, you ask? Why, because they represent the colour blue, of course!” He said this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Um — you — you really like blue, then?” said Milius, trying to sound interested.

“Of course! It is the most fabulous colour, is it not?”

Milius grinned weakly, then realized that it was not a rhetorical question, and that the king was actually waiting for him to answer. “Oh! Oh — yes!” he cried. “Very fabulous indeed! I actually wanted to be the Sapphire Knight, you know; I much prefer it to purple!” he added for good measure. The king, now looking beyond pleased, took to admiring his blue robes. Lumeus snorted, sending sparks through the water and shocking Milius.

He yelped and jumped, but thankfully the king was still gazing fondly at his robes, and the guards and spirits were gazing fondly at him.

“So you're on the hunt for Amphitrice, are you, my young Knight?” the king asked, interrupting Milius’s furious glaring at Lumeus. Milius turned to him, confused. He smiled and pointed airily at the square displaying the lake.

“My palace may be underwater, but I am still somewhat aware of what goes on in the surface world,” he boomed happily. “So, why do you need it?”

“My mother,” Milius said, and at this, Lumeus gave him a swift, piercing look. Milius however, kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead. “She's ill, and the Amphitrice is a key ingredient in making her medicinal potion.”

“Your mother, eh?” the king said gently, though his voice still shook the room. “Yes … Very well. You can have the Amphitrice.”

“Really?” Milius said, ecstatic.

“Really. But —”

Milius’s face fell. “But…?”

“But, Amphitrice is a very valuable thing, as my dear naiad Sybil told you —” He pointed at the first spirit who had spoken to Milius at the lake. “You will have to earn it….”

“Fine,” Milius said resolutely. “What do I have to do?”

The king smiled and rose from his frozen throne. He stepped forward and for one wild second Milius was afraid that he would be trampled, but before his foot had even reached the ground he shrunk down to the size of a regular man.

“Come,” he said. He pointed at a door to their left and his guards swept out ahead of him. He floated out behind them, but Milius had just noticed something: the passage was not large enough to permit Lumeus.

“Um —”

“Oh no, the dragon will have to stay,” Phontus said, as though he had read his mind. “But don't worry. He can stay here with the other animals. My naiads will take good care of him.” He snapped his fingers and Sybil and her friend rose from their bows and carted around the dragon, looking happier than ever.

Milius looked back at Lumeus, who looked cold again. He wasn't blinking or moving, which made him look more like an actual statue than ever before. “I'll be right back,” he told him, and he swept away with the king.

They glided through several long corridors, which had no floors at all. This was to allow for easier travel, Phontus informed him, as he watched an old naiad drifting serenely through the current above. They dipped down through the water and came up to a tall black door with an anchor for a handle. One of the guards pulled it forward and they swam inside.

To Milius's great surprise, the room that they had just entered was completely devoid of water. The current froze at the threshold of the door as though an invisible barrier were keeping it at bay. As he crossed over it, he found that he could suddenly hear and breathe normally — the bubble had disappeared.

He strode along the corridor and looked down. An enormous sand arena was situated below them, with stands rising in levels in a square, and the highest point being a seat just like Phontus's throne with a crown carved upon the backrest. Enormous balls of water hovered above the entire arena, each about as large as Lumeus himself, and a smaller version of the statue that Milius had seen in the city was rising from the stand opposite Phontus's chair — a stout, bare-chested man with a fish tail instead of legs and sweeping lengths of hair and beard, holding a staff tipped with a starfish. And of course, everything was still blue. Milius was really starting to hate the colour now.

There were several entrances into the arena, each one currently closed off by black iron bars. A group of fierce-looking sea men were scattered across the benches, staring into the arena, sharpening weapons, or punching each other.

“This is where you will earn the Amphitrice,” Phontus said happily.

“What?” Milius said incredulously. “You want me to fight?”

Phontus turned to him with his bushy eyebrows raised. “Why of course! You are a Knight, are you not?”

“Well, yes, but I'm not completely —”

“Marvelous!” said Phontus, who had clearly not registered anything Milius had said after ‘yes.’ “I will assign you three opponents. If you defeat them, you'll receive the Amphitrice and you and your dragon will be free to leave.”

“And if I lose?” Milius asked, trying to keep his voice from trembling with the rage and panic that was now boiling inside him.

“You die, of course,” the king said conversationally. “That, or you end up gravely hurt in the ring. Or you could simply choose not to fight. But if you do that, or if you surrender, you will either be imprisoned or sentenced to death. Depending on my mood.” He finished with a shrug.

“You tricked me!” Milius said furiously.

“Oh, but I didn't! Now,” he said, and his voice was very cold now, “what will it be, my young Knight?”

Though he was seething with fury, he forced himself not to lunge at the king. He was greatly outnumbered and without Lumeus, who was still in the care of the king's servants. He had also lost the magical air bubble upon entering the arena, and this place was clearly magical. What if the king could undo the barrier keeping the water out of the room? If he did anything besides accept, even with Palpatunde’s powers, it would not end well....

“Fine!” he spat. “I'll fight.”

“Marvelous!” the king said again, cheerfully. “Please enter the arena then. Your first opponent will join you shortly.”

Fuming, Milius stomped his way down to the arena. The bars of the entrance slid up, allowing him to enter, and then slammed down once he had crossed them.

“Oh, by the way,” called the king, “you are not allowed to kill any of your opponents. Killing my subjects in my court is an offense punishable by death —”

“Fine!” Milius said impatiently. He had not intended to kill anyone in the first place.

“— but,” the king continued, still in that same horrible hearty tone, “they are not exempt from killing you!”

WHAT?”

Before Milius could say or do anything else, the bars of an entrance to his right opened and slammed shut, and his opponent entered the ring. He had the same blue skin, blue hair, black eyes, and loin cloth as the guards at the castle gates, but he was twice as tall, thrice as large, and much more fierce-looking than any of them.

He carried two long black maces, which were topped with sea urchins. He snorted viciously, and before Milius could even draw Palpatunde, he lunged.