CONTENTS
The Curse-Breaker Series:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-six
ALYDIA RACKHAM’S PATREON:
COMING NEXT TO PATREON
Tide
Retelling the Little Mermaid
A
Curse-Breaker’s Tale
Alydia Rackham
Copyright © 2018 Alydia Rackham
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1722079406
ISBN-10: 1722079401
For Maegan
My little Emblyn.
And Jaicee
Ever.
The Curse-Breaker Series:
Scales: Retelling Beauty and the Beast - Book 1
Glass: Retelling the Snow Queen - Book 2
Tide: Retelling the Little Mermaid - Book 3
Curse-Maker: The Tale of Gwiddon Crow - Book 4
Excalibor: Retelling the Legend of King Arthur- Book 5
Special thanks to my royal patreon patrons:
Tina, Haylee, Karin, Kathryn, Susie, Ashley, Jon, Noel, Rachel and Tyler
Chapter One
A lone, black figure stood upon the crest of a hill, astride a muscular horse—equally black. The young rider’s cape twisted out behind him, borne on a cantankerous wind that had wound its way up through the craggy valley from the sea. That same wind disturbed the long, rolling mane of the horse, sending it writhing across the rider’s gloved hands—and it troubled the rider’s shoulder-length, ebony hair.
The young rider turned his pale, scarred face toward the towering forest wall to his left, as his steed’s shod hooves shifted and scraped against beaten stone. Even at the distance from whence he stood, he could feel an unearthly cold wafting out from between the gnarled fir trees. And though steely clouds covered the sky, he could glimpse the dark sparkle of frost amongst the branches.
Frost. In summer.
The young man narrowed his black eyes and set his jaw.
“Cryck!” The throaty, creaking cry echoed through the shallow valley from above. The rider glanced up to see the familiar form of a large, tattered raven swoop past, and glide ahead of him toward the deepening of the cleft in the hills. The rider adjusted his grip on the reins, and, giving one last black look at the border of woods, urged his horse down the hill.
He balanced easily as his mighty horse trotted down the wide gravel road, ignoring the cut in the wind—so different from the sun-soaked, sweeping hills he’d recently left behind. He passed down through the gully, and urged his steed into a canter. The long sword at his side beat a rhythm against his thigh, and his cape slapped the horse’s hindquarters. The raven overhead gave another absent squawk, and flapped his wings against the breeze.
Within an hour, they left all sight of the woods behind, and the gully opened up to a broad moor dotted with rugged heath and exposed stone. The sun shattered the clouds here, spilling down in waterfalls upon the earth below. And at the edge of this moor, the earth fell away, and the sea spread like a glittering carpet all the way to the horizon—interrupted only by a set of islands, the foremost island striking a vast and soaring form against the brilliance of the water.
The rider leaned back and gently tugged on the reins, slowing his horse to a walk. He paused, taking a deep breath of the briny air, then glanced again to his left, and found the white road that wound down to the fishing village.
The rider gave a sharp whistle.
The raven cawed, and swung around midair, dove, flapped his great wings, and landed expertly on the rider’s right shoulder. The raven pecked at the rider’s long hair, and ruffled his feathers.
Without giving more than a cursory command to the horse, the rider sent him into a canter again, and the three of them started down the rolling hills. Hooves clashed steadily against broken rock, and the roar of the wind increased, rushing through the rider’s clothes.
At last, they dipped into the shelter between two cliffsides, and old trees rose up around them. Ahead, the rider caught sight of smoke rising from chimneys. The road turned to packed dirt, and to either side, two-story, grey-stone houses appeared, with bright windows, and blue, red or green doors. The scent of smoked fish soon rolled out to meet him, along with the smell of burning wood. Bustling noise arose, accompanied by the dull, deep roll of the ocean swells.
He turned a corner and entered a broad lane busy with working people and carts and horses and donkeys. The plain-clad folk carried wood, grain, ropes and fish in baskets, they shouted to each other, they rang silvery bells that hung from doorframes.
He slowed his horse. The raven gave a quiet cluck-cluck-cluck. The horse lowered his head, and stepped through the crowd, careful where he set his mighty hooves.
They followed the curve in the road, and at last achieved a downward ramp that led to the broad beach, where crowds of women in hiked-up skirts plied the sands for clams. Seagulls flitted like wisps of cotton, diving and swirling over the breakers, crying and calling into the sky.
The rider and his raven maneuvered all the way to the end of a stone dock, where several beaten sailing vessels were moored. Hooves now clattered on stone, and the gusts of wind billowed out the rider’s cloak. He made his way to the very end of the dock, where a single, larger ship, much more finely-painted than the others, swayed with the tide. Several sea-battered, ruddy men stood upon the deck, winding rope and polishing the wood. They wore dark blue uniforms and white kerchiefs, and three of them heartily sang a sea chantey that the wind tried to steal away from them.
“Oh, the work was hard and the wages low
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
I guess it’s time for us to go
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow
And it’s time for us to leave her.
I thought I heard the old man say
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Tomorrow you will get your pay
And it’s time for us to leave her
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, the voyage is done and the winds don’t blow
And it’s time for us to leave her…”
One of the three singing men caught sight of the rider, and stood up straight. He had a short-trimmed white beard, and curly white hair that stuck out from beneath a brimmed cap. He stopped singing, and beamed a wide smile that wrinkled his weathered face as he cast his blue gaze up and down the horse and rider’s towering black forms.
“Well…What a sight,” the sailor remarked. “What a sight, indeed.”
The other sailors immediately stopped what they were doing and looked up, as the rider gazed back down at them, his great cape rolling behind him, his raven hunching upon his shoulder, and his horse lifting his proud, grand head. Their mouths opened, but none were able to speak.
“You’re…you’re Galahad Stormcrane,” one of the younger sailors finally spoke up, stepping forward. “The Curse-
Breaker. The one we’re to take to Metern?”
“I am,” Galahad said, sat back, and swung down from the saddle. He landed easily, his raven flapping to compensate. He turned and unstrapped a saddlebag, reached in, and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment. He stepped up to the side of the small ship and handed the scroll across to the older man—the captain.
“Thankee,” the captain said as he took it. Gripping hold of it with both hands as the wind tried to snatch it from him, he unrolled it and read it. “Aye, yes,” he concluded, looking back up at Galahad with another smile. “I’m Captain McNeil, and this is His Majesty’s the Essa.”
“Thank you,” Galahad nodded, turned and grasped his horse’s bridle, and led the great animal toward the edge of the boat. Alarmed, the sailors stepped back.
“Do he need a—” McNeil started—
And the huge horse kicked off, leaped over the rail and onto the deck with a shaking thunder. The raven squawked in comment. Galahad hopped in after, as the horse snorted and tossed his head.
“What great black beasties ye have,” the younger sailor comment. “What be their names?”
“This is Thondorfax,” Galahad slapped the horse’s neck. “And this is Scraw.”
At the sound of his name, the raven let out a loud crack sound. The sailors laughed breathlessly, still shying clear of Thondorfax’s massive shoulders.
“You’re a tall lad yourself,” the captain noted, glancing him up and down. “A good head taller than my son!”
“How long till we make sail?” Galahad asked, turning to scan the sea.
“Not but a few minutes,” the captain answered, tugging on his cap. Galahad just nodded, reaching out to grasp Thondorfax’s reins again.
Comments and gasping were quickly replaced by the bustle of activity on deck as they reeled in the anchor, pushed away from the dock, and made sail. The white canvas flapped slack in the wind before the captain turned the rudder and the sails snapped to. In no time at all, they had pulled away from the dock, fore into the waves, and the little ship rocked smoothly like a galloping horse. Cold spray splashed up over the rail, dotting Galahad’s cheeks.
As the crew worked, they gave Galahad and his animals a wide berth, but soon they began laughing amongst themselves again, and once more started to sing.
“The wind was foul an' the sea ran high,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
She shipped it green an' none went by.
An it's time for us to leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow
And it’s time for us to leave her.
The grub was bad an' the wages low,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
But now once more ashore we'll go.
As it's time for us to leave her!”
They picked up speed as the waves and wind arose.
Gusts blasted across the deck, but the sailors only sang louder.
“Oh, leave her, Johnny, an' we'll work no more,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Of pump or drown we've had full store.
An it's time for us to leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, the voyage is done, and the winds don’t blow
And it’s time for us to leave her.
Leave her, Johnny, an' we'll leave her with a grin,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
There's many a worser we've sailed in.
And it's time for us to leave her!”
On either side, several smaller boats floated or sailed,
the men aboard throwing nets out or pulling them in. The Essa sailed between them, toward the great island that waited about two miles off shore. As they passed over the surf, the sea smoothed, and the little ship leaned easily as the gale carried her. Thondorfax braced his shoulder against the mast, and Scraw huddled down against Galahad’s neck. The chilly gusts tried to slice through his clothes, but his heavy shirt, trousers, boots, tunic and waistcoat wouldn’t allow it. Galahad rested his free hand on the silver butt of his sword, lifted his chin, and fixed his eyes on the far shore.
In swift time, the ship approached the coast of the island, but the captain pulled her to port, and they skated the edge of the jagged shore northward. Huge white cliffs leaped up from the beaches, and waves shattered against toothy rocks. Galahad’s gaze swept the green upper edges of the cliffs, and he said nothing.
An hour later, they rounded the curve of the island and headed northeast. They sailed past a little fishing village in a cleft—one that the captain pointed to, and declared it to be called Megipesk. Another half hour brought them around a short peninsula…
And there it rose up before them.
Galahad drew in a slow breath.
Atop the height of a great hill by the rim of the cliff stood a white castle. It had domed-roofed towers, elegant archways, and pillars that looked like unicorn horns. The domes shone blue, with tiles of lapis lazuli. Stripes of gold shimmered atop the lintels of the arches. Tall windows, paned with unbreakable silvery glass from Spegel, flashed back the sunlight. Designs of ships and great sea creatures adorned the smooth walls in relief. Seagulls soared around its peaks like snow.
“Perlkastel,” the captain announced, the pride evident in his voice. “Only to be rivaled by the Palace of Glas in Spegel. Or so they say. I’ve never seen that one, myself.”
“Nor I,” Galahad murmured, his attention still fixed on the ornate battlements.
The captain shouted orders, the sailors adjusted the canvas, and the ship turned toward shore—toward a carefully-built harbor lined with fine stone buildings. They drew up to the dock’s side, and let down the anchor.
As soon as he could gauge it, Galahad leaped out of the ship and landed on the dock. With a great heave and another snort, Thondorfax followed, crashing down right beside him, throwing his head. Scraw barked at him.
“Thank you,” Galahad said to the captain, hopping back up into the saddle, setting his boots in the stirrups and taking up the reins. “I will tell His Highness you performed your duty well.”
“Thankee, sir,” the captain tipped his hat. “Good luck, sir.”
Galahad didn’t respond. He just turned Thondorfax’s head and clicked to him, and the horse took off at a brisk trot up the dock. Scraw beat his wings and took off, sailing ahead again.
Galahad trotted onto the beach, up the white rocks, and onto the central lane of the village. The people here wore much finer clothes, of sea-green and blue colors, with hats on their heads. They didn’t shout, but walked beside each other—and all of them turned to watch Galahad as he passed through their midst. Scraw crowed, and Thondorfax picked up his speed.
Together, they worked their way up the ever-inclining, windy road, following the cliffline, occasionally passing shepherds driving their white herds. Then, the road turned to paving, and trees flanked it. Old trees, with thick green canopies. The wind rushed through their leaves, and unseen birds chirped in their branches. Galahad lost sight of Scraw as he soared over the leafy heights.
The wide lane wound gently across the hills, leading ever upward. And at last, the trees opened up to a huge terraced garden. A large fountain stood in the center of each terrace, each fountain taking the form of a nymph or a sea god or a mighty fish. Blooming roses surrounded the fountains, each terrace a different color. The heady scent washed over Galahad as he started up the drive toward the massive, waiting arms of the castle.
He followed the lane directly through the gardens, onto a large, paved yard, and drew up on front of the tall, elegant, iron black gates tipped in gold. Two guards, wearing shining silver helmets and white uniforms, stepped out from their towers to meet him.
“Greetings, sir. State your name and business,” said the guard with the mustache.
“I am Galahad Stormcrane, Curse-Breaker,” Galahad answered him. “I must speak with Prince James.”
He sa
w the guard’s eyes go wide, and he exchanged a glance with the other soldier.
“Stormcrane?” he stammered. “Yes, yes, right away, sir. If you’ll dismount, I’ll personally have your horse—”
“No,” Galahad cut in. “He comes with me.”
The guards balked.
“What—inside the palace?”
“Yes.” Galahad leveled a look at the mustached guard. “Or are your doors too small?”
“Why…Why no, sir, they’re quite wide—”
Galahad turned from him toward the palace.
“Then open the gate.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard hurried back, and with his comrade, they opened the gates. Not waiting for them to fully open, Galahad and Thondorfax marched inside, with Scraw flapping overhead. The raven then dipped down and landed on Thondorfax’s head. Galahad dismounted, let go of the reins and strode forward. The great horse followed right behind, his head ducking low. More guards quickly heaved open the double doors and Galahad passed through, Thondorfax and Scraw after him, into a large, white, pillared hallway with gorgeous mosaiced floors. At the far end waited a vast room flooded with light off the sea. Thondorfax’s heavy hooves clacked loudly against the smooth stones. And together, they entered the room.
The ceiling soared. Murals of ethereal humans dancing through the clouds covered the spaces between the arches. Glittering crystal chandeliers—more glass from Spegel—hung like a rain of diamonds. Floor-to-ceiling windows made up the entire wall, looking out over the glimmering channel and then the green, misty mainland. The floor was polished tile, alternating black and white squares. Galahad moved to the center of the room, turned to his right, and faced the head of the room, where a golden dais stood below a wall-covering tapestry. Thondorfax drew up behind him, and his shoulder touched Galahad’s. The horse’s great neck curved, and his body enshielded Galahad on all sides save the fore.
Tide Page 1
