Kingdom of Salt and Sirens

by J. A. Armitage

  “The one in the water…” she guessed. “Your sire?”

  "He is nothing to me," the dead one's spawn vowed. But its voice tore now, belying its words. Perhaps not cherished... but not nothing. "I am glad he is dead. What sort of good man treats his daughter the way he has treated me?" Its fists were knuckled white, clenched around the ship's railing. And tears at the edge of its eyes betrayed its speech. It scrubbed at them angrily.

  Absentmindedly, the little monster lengthened her hair and held it out before her, lightening and shading it until it matched the hue of the little human's yellow locks. Satisfied with her accomplishments, she turned back to the human, who watched, expressions of disgust and fascination vying for dominance over her features.

  “Good. A good man.” The little monster tested the words, weighed the heft of them on her tongue. She had heard it before from the humans, but never understood its meaning. Perhaps the little human could shed light on the subject. “What does it mean?”

  “What does what mean?”

  “‘Good.’”

  Its brow furrowed as it puzzled over the questions. “It means... someone you look up to.”

  “Ah.” The little monster nodded, understanding at last. “The dead one was your best hunter. Brought in the most meals. Provided the most food. All others strive to such aspirations. I am the same among my kind.”

  "What? No." Forgetting its troubles, a laugh tripped out of the little human's mouth.

  And the little monster found that it enjoyed the tinkling sound that made. She flicked her tail so she rose higher out of the water up to the base of her torso, just past where her form swelled to accommodate her tail. The new day’s sun was weak today among so much gray, but still, it lit upon her glorious form, warming her body.

  To her credit, the little human didn’t startle or jerk back this time. The decreased distance brought her face closer into focus for the little monster. Blue eyes, but a stormy blue, so clouded that Mara almost called them gray. They reminded her of the day’s sky. The corners of those eyes were crinkled by the smile it wore. Its smile made little crinkles at the corners of its eyes. It wore its blonde hair like a halo, the rising sun’s weak light glowing behind her as it leaned further over the railing.

  “Hunting is just a skill,” the little human explained as she leaned an elbow on the ship’s railing and looked down at the little monster. “Something someone can be good at. It doesn't make them good.”

  “Then what does?”

  “I…” The human's smile faded; drained away like water soaking into sand. “I don't know.”

  They sat in quiet for a moment. The wind whistled past them. The waves lapped at the side of the humans' boat. The little human's sire had long since stopped screaming and the wails on deck had quieted to hushed sobs and soft sniffles.

  “Amista!” A shout from another female human made the monster’s human wince.

  "I should go," she said apologetically. "Now that they're all deep in their mourning, they will expect me to show him respect." She crinkled her nose and spat the word as though it tasted particularly vile.

  The little monster tilted her head. “But you do not feel this respect you speak of. Why feign what you do not feel? What sense is there in that?”

  The little human shrugged helplessly. “What am I to do? It's what's expected. And sometimes we must do what society expects of us.”

  The little monster’s stomach growled. Without even one bite of a soul today, she'd failed to sate it.

  But the little human was... interesting. The monster had enjoyed its peculiar views on the world, the way it both adhered to the ways of its kind and defied them in the same breath. It was a fascinating conundrum. The most pleasant sort of puzzle. And the little monster wanted to solve this puzzle. The little human was a question that was still unanswered.

  She flicked her tail and swam backwards, belly up toward the sun. The little human's curious gaze followed the length of her torso to the tip of her fin.

  The little monster made her decision. She’d find another meal to satisfy her hunger today. The human could keep its soul... for now. At least until the little monster solved the puzzle of her.

  “If they need you, then you must go,” she said silkily. “Do what they expect of you. But do hurry.” Her lips curved and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Before they catch us. I daresay they would not expect to find us conversing with each other.”

  "Wait!" The little human lurched forward, a single hand outstretched, the other anchored firmly to the ship's railing. It swallowed as the little monster raised a brow to her. The hand fell lamely back to her side.

  “I... don't even know your name.”

  “Name?”

  "What are you called?"

  "I don't understand." What was she called? She was a predator, a hunter, a Mordgris, a...

  "I am a monster," she said simply.

  “You're all monsters,” the human breathed. “But you're not quite like the rest. How am I to call you and you alone?”

  Her. Alone.

  A thrill spiked through the little monster. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? She deserved her own name. She was the best of her kind. There was nothing in the sea that could best her except, perhaps, the sea itself. And that made choosing a name simple.

  "You may call me Mara," she said.

  “Mara,” the human repeated slowly. “Mara… for the sea?”

  Another thrill surged within her as she nodded, knowing the word belonged only to her. The little human had understood the meaning instantly. In a way that prey was not meant to understand its hunter.

  “I am Amista,” she said, lifting her full lower scales to cross the bottoms of her fins and bob on deck. “And it has been a pleasure to meet you, Mara.”

  Mara dove back into the cool embrace of the sea, feeling Amista's eyes on her back as she swam away.

  The little monster had become Mara.

  The little human had become Amista.

  And that was the beginning and end of everything as they knew it.

  2

  Amista

  Sitting on the docks, Amista dipped one toe into the cool waters and shuddered.

  It was a clear day. The surface of the water reflected the blue sky above. Soft, puffy white clouds sailed by on the current. A bird flew past on a wave, twirled around the towering Tigrid castle. A school of small, dark fish darted into the clouds and then away, beyond where Amista could see. An orb of light cast a glow up at her, the sun’s brightness hitting her from two angles. She put up a hand to shield her eyes from the glare and stared, contemplating the sea.

  The ocean's surface looked cerulean and surreal today, she thought. Not like that day. The day that had started gray and turned to red.

  The day that Amista had done what she had done—and then walked away.

  Yet it wasn't her father's face that her mind's eye painted on the waves. It was the face of the Mordgris. The one who called herself Mara.

  Mara. The name was the feminine form of the sea.

  The sea could be both beautiful and terrible, changing in the time-span of a single breeze. It could allow for play or take lives when its mood suited. Mara herself had been both beautiful and terrible as well.

  Her eyes had been black caverns, her teeth like rows of slim thorns lining her mouth. There was no nose that Amista’s eyes had been able to discern. And when she’d first spoken, it had been a cacophony of voices shouting at her. When she’d emerged from the sea, she looked as much a terrifying creature as the rest of the Mordgris, the ones who had torn her her father’s still screaming form limb from limb.

  She closed her eyes, guilt twinging at her.

  Did it make her just as bad a person as he had been that she still felt no guilt over his painful death? At the time, she could have dismissed her lack of emotions for shock. But enough time had passed. Reality had settled. And still, she didn’t feel bad about it.

  The deck had be
en vacant when he'd come toward her with a raised hand once more and she'd finally had enough. Her foot had lashed out, connected with his pelvis.

  She'd never forget the expression on his face as he fell overboard.

  She'd never forget the hope that had surged through her when she heard the splash as he hit the water. Nor the relief that had coursed through her when he began screaming as the Mordgris in the water got to work, indulging in their meal.

  So when the Mordgris—Mara, Amista corrected herself. She'd said to call her Mara. When Mara had appeared, hair slicked back over pitch dark eyes—eyes as black as the night, eyes without a discernible iris or pupil, without even a speck of white to fill its corners. When her tongue had flicked out from between her needle teeth, the only spot of color among her silver-gray skin…

  …There was a part of Amista that wondered if maybe Mara was more human in that moment than she was.

  She imagined Mara's face bobbing before her, translucent as the water itself and rippling with the current. Amista couldn't keep letting the Mordgris girl haunt her like this. She had bigger concerns now. She palmed a flat rock resting beside the pile of twined rope on the dock. After testing its weight in her palm, she and skipped it into the sea, the splash disrupting the vision. Mara-the-Mordgris was no more. Only the sea and castle behind her remained.

  "Your Majesty?"

  Amista closed her eyes, wishing she could shut her ears the same way.

  That voice was her grandmother. The Queen Mother. Well... Amista amended her thoughts. The Queen Grandmother now. Lady Prellae had assumed the role of adviser and queen's right hand after Amista's father had died. Amista was expected to assume the throne in his place.

  The coronation would take place in a month. Too long… and somehow, not long enough. But it was the bare minimum they could make do with, the council assured her. It would take them time to gather the necessary religious leaders in their temples, to assure the Tigrid people that the gods had blessed both her ascension to the throne and her rule.

  As for the celebration, they'd need to hire the city's finest chefs for a feast, musicians for a ball. There would be tailors to hire for gowns, alterations to make, invitations to address. Amista would need to study the Word of the Ancient Ones so that she knew exactly what to say and when to say it during the ceremony.

  "I needed a break," she said quietly, at last opening her eyes and responding to her grandmother's prompt. She still didn't turn to look at her.

  The sound of footsteps clunking onto the dock reached her ears as her grandmother tread closer. Lady Prellae's shadow enveloped her. "Rulers do not have the luxury of taking breaks. That is for the peasants. It is even for some members of the gentry. Let them luxuriate in their wine and drink. In their books and music and plays. You are a queen."

  "I know what I am," Amista snapped at the reminder, hackles raised.

  "Then act. Like. It." Her grandmother hissed. "Enough of this skipping rocks like a child. I have been able to excuse it as you being deep in mourning until now, but it grows increasingly difficult when you do not even make the concession of donning black."

  Amista glanced down at her purple frock. It was one of her favorites.

  "Purple is permitted as a color of mourning," she said defensively. "And besides that, it's the color of royalty. Am I not to be crowned queen, after all?"

  "Your coronation is in a month," her grandmother replied flatly. "And purple is a color of mourning after an appropriate length of time has passed. Your father has been dead a week. Black banners still stream from the windows in the city. For the love of the gods, we've yet to even bury him!"

  "Generally speaking, one must have a body to bury in order for there to be a burial," Amista responded.

  There was a long silence in which Amista did not tear her gaze from the ripples in the water and her grandmother did not speak.

  And then finally, she did. And her voice broke as she whispered to her granddaughter.

  "For gods' sakes, Amista. Your father—my son—is dead. Have you no soul?"

  The words struck like a lashing whip as the Queen Grandmother turned, apparently unable to look at her granddaughter for another moment. She strode away, her heels clipping softly against the wooden planks of the deck until she stepped into the sand.

  Amista assumed she was heading back into the castle. She'd head that way herself soon enough. But for now, she kept her seat, the wind buffeting her long blonde hair around her shoulders, the waves playing about her toes.

  She had to go back inside. Back into the castle where she had no one who understood her and where a kingdom rested upon her shoulders. It was a very expensive prison—and she didn't even have a cellmate to share the incarceration with.

  She sighed. Time was ticking onward. She got to her feet, flicking little droplets from her legs as she gazed at the sea.

  If only she could escape into the cool, dark embrace of the water.

  3

  Mara

  Mara laughed giddily as she flicked her tail, propelling her toward her prey. The powerful muscles in her torso undulated as she swam forward, controlling each movement with precision. Her gills flapped in the current, each breath modulated with the effort she put forth.

  Another monster raced beside her, but it was no match for Mara. Mara was younger. Faster. Stronger.

  Already ahead of the other beast, she decided she could spare a moment to ensure her victory.

  She took the time to pause in her quest forward and moved her tail first to the right, winding up—then powering toward the left and slamming into the other monster. It hissed in pain as it slammed through the resistance of the water and into the unforgiving reef below. It wouldn't hurt the other Mordgris, Mara rationalized. Their skin was far less delicate than that. Even a harpoon would have a hard time. Besides, she couldn't truly harm one of her own kind even if she wanted to. The dark magic in their blood would have stopped her strike before it landed.

  Mara's head swam with triumph as the other monster screamed epithets and shook a fist behind her and she continued the chase after her prey. It didn't matter if the Mordgris was angry. What mattered was ensuring that Mara won this race. And she would win. She would be the first to reach the creature—her next meal.

  The dolphin was fast—but the Mordgris were faster. Mara slammed into the sleek creature, her skin so similar in color to its that an outsider wouldn't be able to tell one from the other. The dolphin chittered nervously, the sound escalating to a shriek as Mara's teeth sank into its flesh and tore its soul free.

  It was over in moments, the high of its soul coursing through Mara's veins.

  Not as satisfying as a human's soul… No. There was nothing like the light, frothy kiss of human flesh and soul, nothing that could duplicate the high, the feeling of matter like men and women. Their souls were glorious explosions of light, a collision of feeling and emotion. She had yet to taste its equal.

  But when ships were scarce and humans hard to lure into their waters where they were ripe for the picking, she had to find other options. So, dolphins, otters, whales... any of them would do in a pinch. When you were starving, you didn't particularly care if your meal was the most delicious thing you'd ever tasted, or if it was more healthy than the next option. You took what you could find.

  Mara flicked her tongue out to lap up the cloud of blood dissipating in the water, soaking up every last drop she could, hoping for one more soul morsel as the high faded.

  The other monster caught back up with her, chittering angrily as it morphed its features to mirror the dead dolphin's. Mara rolled her eyes and swam to the surface. She'd heard the sob story a thousand times before.

  There was plenty for the both of us. And you left me with nothing, the dolphin-monster screeched, not relenting as it chased after her and broke into the open air.

  "Just as your lot was so eager to share the fallen king with me yesterday?" she inquired, drawling in the stolen human voice she'd been using since yester
day. She inhaled a deep breath, switching to breathe through her lungs.

  The other creature's face relaxed back into the familiar black eyes and gray pallor of their kind. "You could have carved a piece for yourself and you well know it, youngling."

  That was the problem. "A piece." Mara wasn't interested in a piece of the human. She wanted it all. A whole soul, just for herself.

  “And had you been fast enough, you might have carved a piece of the dolphin for yourself.” Mara slanted a vicious grin at the other monster. “Fortune favors the quick.”

  It made a sound it had stolen from spying on human ships. A disgusting noise that usually issued from between the humans buttocks; a squelch. An odious scent usually followed that.

  The Mordgris swam off.

  Mara didn't chase after it. It was just like the rest of her kind. Sometimes, they were no better than a school of fish. Traveling together and just as mindless as the small bass and mackerel they shared the ocean with. Not one of them thinking for themselves. Not a single one of them distinguishable from the other.

  Except for Mara. She would stand out. She had a name now. She was her own and unlike the rest. Unlike anyone, anywhere, ever had been.

  Her hair drifted into her field of vision. The color of the bread the humans threw overboard for their gulls. After meeting the little human, Amista, she'd never changed it back to the ordinary dark seaweed that streamed from her scalp, but now, she thought she wanted something different.

  She‘d seen a ship go down in flames once. Bright, glorious red-orange thing, it had been. And what a day, too. They hadn't needed to lure the humans down that day. They'd gratefully leapt from the fire to extinguish it in the water, desperate to escape the heat.

  What a feast it had been. One by one they had fallen. One by one, she and the rest of her brethren had dived onto them, dined upon the pickings of their souls.