by Terry Spear
Chapter 10
Dracolin fell back with Persephonice in his arms against the bottom of the boat as relief washed over her.
The wave swelled higher.
“Hurry, paddle faster!” the prince shouted.
“Stay put in the bottom of the boat, Persephonice!” Dracolin commanded.
She didn’t like to be told what to do, but when something banged against the side of the craft and water started to spill in through the weakening wood, she held the spots with her hands. “Do you have any magic to repair the boat?” she asked Zorak.
He shook his head.
What were the river elves so afraid of if the high elves didn’t have any useful magic?
The boat shook as more creatures struck it. Then suddenly, a fist shoved through the wood. Persephonice screamed out, not meaning to sound like a frightened girl. But at the moment, that’s just what she was. Living the life of a half mermaid would be a short-lived life, she was certain. But soon the boat would be at the bottom of the ocean, and she feared every one of them would drown.
The boat began to fill up with more water as three more holes were poked into it. She grabbed a blue metal tin container she imagined the river elves used for bailing out the boat and began to cup up the water and toss it overboard.
They were slowly growing closer to the shore when the sound of flapping in the distance caught her attention. She turned to see something she could barely make out headed straight for them.
Now what? The green specks grew closer. Dragons? Now they were doomed. Fire breathing dragons would make short work of…
Zorak smiled and waved at the dragons.
He’d called them?
Okay, so maybe his magic wasn’t so inconsequential after all.
The mer-creatures quit hitting the boat, but the swell of the wave was upon them. It would capsize them within seconds.
Three dragons dove toward them, speeded up by the perilous situation they were in. Then one plucked Zorak and Dracolin from the boat. The whole time Dracolin yelled out in protest.
The wave hit the boat, flipping it over and Persephonice tumbled under in the frothing wave. For a moment, she saw the merman’s face as he reached out for her. She was doomed.
For an eternity, she fought the merman, struggling to free herself before she had to get air or drown. Silver claws dipped into the water just above her, but the merman twisted her away from the dragon’s grasp.
Again, the merman attempted to pull her lower as she fought to get free and return to the surface. For a second time, claws plunged into the water near her and would have reached her, if the merman again hadn’t jerked her away from him in time.
Her mind fuzzed with the lack of oxygen. Aqua bubbles surrounded them as the merman twisted his tail, attempting to take her deeper. She closed her eyes as her thoughts drifted away. She’d never see Dracolin again. Filled with anguish, she sobbed.
Instantly, water filled her lungs.
***
Three days later, Persephonice woke in a small room filled with sunlight. Green cotton sheets covered the bed and a patchwork quilt rested beneath her chin. Now where was she?
She glanced at the green glass window that made everything appear blurry. Dracolin walked by the window on the outside of the building, and she sat up in bed. She no longer wore the river elves’ gown but a simple brown tunic and green leggings. She climbed out of bed and walked across the braided rug that shared the colors of the comforter, brown, green and gold.
A spicy cinnamon fragrance filled the small dwelling.
“Hello?” she called out, as she walked into a living area filled with pillow-covered benches.
A woman, nearly as tall as Dracolin, with the same kind of dark brown hair and eyes and pointed ears, greeted her. She bowed her head. “I am Ritasia, cousin to Dracolin. I am wife to Xern, a high elf.”
Persephonice smiled, trying to put the woman at ease. She was certain, though she had tried to rescue a high elf and his familiar, the woman still feared her for being something so unknown.
Ritasia motioned to a green pillow-covered wooden bench. “Sit, and I’ll let the men know you are awake. Dracolin has been most anxious.” Her lips curved up slightly, then she bowed again and hurried outside.
Persephonice studied the room, devoid of paintings. Baskets hung on one wall and she wondered if they were strictly utilitarian, used for gathering food. A stone fireplace rested against one wall, and another featured a large green glass window. Six benches covered in cushions and one square table sitting in the center made up the sparse furnishings.
Dracolin burst into the room ahead of all of the others, then suddenly stopped almost making the prince and Balon collide with his backside.
She smiled. Did he worry he was making a fool of himself over his enthusiasm to see her?
She sat down on a bench and patted it. “Tell me what happened. I don’t remember anything after the boat capsized.”
“You’re feeling all right?” he asked, but didn’t take a step toward her.
She studied him, then nodded. “As you can see, I’m fine. Did the river elves make it to shore?”
“The dragons plucked them out of the sea and left them to sleep off Tal’s fairy dragon magic on the shore.” His brow was deeply furrowed as he stared at her with a kind of disbelief.
“What happened to me? I just can’t remember.”
Dracolin took a deep breath. “You drowned.”
Chapter 11
Persephonice stared back at Dracolin, then shook her head. “Maybe it just seemed as though I had drowned, but truly I—”
A golden-haired, older male elf walked into the house along with Zorak and Tal. He patted Dracolin on the shoulder. “Why don’t we all have a seat? Ritasia will fetch us something to drink and eat in the meantime.”
Creases appeared at the corners of the older elf’s eyes as he smiled. She was instantly taken in by his warm voice and reassuring manner.
But she wondered if their women did all of the cooking duties, while the men were the warriors and hunted for the food. In her society, machines made all of their meals. The women did the same duties as the men.
“I’ll help Ritasia,” Persephonice said, not wanting the lady to be burdened with feeding all of them without any help.
“No. Please be seated,” the man said, his voice firm, but friendly. “I’m Xern, her husband, by the way.”
“She shouldn’t have to serve all of us—”
Dracolin crossed the room and sat down beside her. Was he finally overcoming his fear of her? She hated that everyone feared her. Not because of anything bad that she’d done, but for solely being different. Even her people had abandoned her for being different now that she had no lifemate.
Dracolin took her hand in his and warmly squeezed. “You drowned,” he repeated as his brown eyes misted, and the words choked in his throat.
The others slowly took their seats as if afraid to break up the conversation between Dracolin and Persephonice.
She squeezed his hand back. “I can’t ever thank you enough for coming to my rescue.” She glanced at Zorak. “And you, too, for calling on your dragons.” She motioned to Balon, the prince and Tal. “All of you.”
“Persephonice, you drowned,” Dracolin repeated as if they were the only words he knew.
His hand rubbed hers as if trying to console her though she felt he was the one needing consolation. She touched his forehead, trying to smooth away the wrinkle of concern. “It only seemed like I did. Maybe I stopped breathing for a minute. But I couldn’t have drowned and then be sitting here like this, speaking with you. Unless a healer revived me.” She smiled, trying to lighten the somber mood.
He shook his head.
She looked at the others. Everyone seemed to think the same as Dracolin. “Okay, so I died briefly and came back to life.” She had heard of things like that happening before with her kind, if their bodies could manage with their recuperative powers. Though she could
n’t remember someone drowning, exactly.
“What are you?” Dracolin asked, his voice still concerned.
To her relief, Xern changed the subject. “I’m a high elf and sit on the high council. I would feel most honored if you would come with me to see my king.”
She looked at Dracolin to see his reaction. He seemed pleased she wanted to know what he felt, but still he seemed worried.
The prince said, “She belongs to my father. We found her first.”
“I belong to no one,” Persephonice said, softly. “Why do you want me to see your king?”
“He and the members of the high council are very enlightened, but I’m sure none have ever seen a being as wondrous and mysterious as you. However, we’re not fearful of magic users like other elf kinds. We would be most interested in seeing what abilities you possess.”
“Not me,” Dracolin said, defensively. “I’m not afraid of Persephonice.”
Yet he’d proved he feared her time and again. Even moments ago, he worried about her drowning, when she knew she couldn’t have. Maybe she’d just passed out.
She patted his leg with her free hand. “I would never do anything to harm you, Dracolin. You’ll be my friend forever.”
His lips parted to speak, then he clamped his mouth shut. Balon chuckled. The prince shook his head.
Zorak said, “You had never seen a fairy dragon before. You asked what Tal was. And yet you could understand her and speak her language as if you had the high elf magic.”
“You had never seen a shadow elf before, had you?” Dracolin asked.
“And what about the merfolk?” Zorak asked.
“True, I have a special ability to speak to creatures who either have humanistic characteristics or in the case of Tal are companions to such creatures.”
“Humanistic?” Balon asked.
“Like us. Like you and me.”
The men all exchanged glances. They probably didn’t think she was very much like them.
“Are you immortal?” Dracolin asked.
She smiled, wondering where he ever came up with such a notion. “If I were immortal, I wouldn’t have feared drowning.”
“Are you a mermaid? Or half mermaid?” He seemed to want her to say no, and yet she wondered if he could ever understand she could swim and still not be a mermaid. But then again, the notion she could talk to them that she had red hair and green eyes…
She sighed deeply. “If I were a mermaid, I would have a fishtail.” She touched her leg, but realized at once, the bite from the mermaid no longer hurt. “How many days have I been here?”
“Three. What’s the matter, Persephonice? Your face has turned as white as our double moons.”
“Will you excuse me for a moment?” She didn’t wait for anyone’s objection but instead hurried into the room where she had awoken. She shut the door and pulled down her breeches. Where she expected to see the angry red mermaid’s puncture marks, she found the skin unbroken as if the wound had never existed.
***
In the main room, the men began to argue.
“By rights,” the prince said, “she belongs to me.”
Dracolin stared at his friend in disbelief. He’d suspected the prince wanted Persephonice, too, and that he used his father as an excuse as a method of getting her. But already Persephonice had voiced the opinion that she didn’t belong to him or any other. Still the idea his friend would try to claim her, irritated him as he fisted his hands in his lap.
However, her words of friendship softened his feelings. He sensed she meant what she said with all her heart, and yet he couldn’t help but want her for more than a friend. How could it be?
She had consistently evaded his question concerning what she was. Not only that, but she’d died. For two days she’d been dead. For two days they’d watched over her, unwilling to burn her body, as was their custom. And why? Because for one, her cheeks remained rosy. She had never appeared pale as death, though her heart no longer beat and she no longer took a breath. But her body had remained warm, not cold like someone who had died.
Despite the fact she’d died, the mer-creature’s wicked bite on her leg healed.
Xern had explained she might be in a trauma-like sleep that she’d wake from. So Ritasia had changed Persephonice out of her wet river elf’s clothes, and Dracolin had placed her in the guest bedchambers.
On the third day, Persephonice took her first breath.
Joy had filled Dracolin’s heart, mixed with a sense of hopelessness. What if she were immortal? What if she truly was a soothsayer even higher than theirs? He shook his head at himself as he stared at the bedchamber door. What difference did it make? Except that if she were either or both of these things, she would not desire a simple shadow elf…
He took a ragged breath and combed his fingers through his wind-swept hair as Zorak attempted to explain to the prince how Persephonice belonged with the high elves, creatures more like her, and the prince continued to argue against his logic.
If she wanted an elf for a mate, it would be someone like Prince Zorak—a high elf who shared her magical skills. Did he feel beholden to Persephonice for her helping him to the boat? Zorak hadn’t once said he wanted her for himself, but he hadn’t seemed happy when Dracolin held her hand.
He glanced at Ritasia as she walked into the room. She whispered to Xern. He looked at Dracolin, who instantly felt something was the matter. Then Xern nodded his head to his wife and kissed her on the cheek. “Ritasia has set the food out if everyone will take seats in the dining area.”
Everyone glanced back at the bedchamber door. Xern motioned again to the dining room. “Before the food Ritasia prepared gets cold.”
Dracolin waited for Persephonice as Xern joined him. The others wandered into the dining area, evidently interested in what else was going on, when they shot looks over their shoulders in Dracolin and Xern’s direction.
Xern said to Dracolin, “Persephonice is outside by the pond speaking with a water sprite.”
Dracolin parted his lips to speak, then frowned. “I worry about her safety. She doesn’t seem to know anything of our world. On the other hand, she seems to charm everyone she meets.” He glanced back at the dining area with disdain.
Xern smiled. “Except for the mer-creature who bit her, and the river elves who tried to drown her.”
Dracolin nodded.
“Go to her. But don’t question her too harshly. She has her reasons for being here. You have befriended her over everyone else. When she feels the time is right, I’m sure she’ll tell you what you wish to know.”
“Patience has never been one of my virtues.”
Xern patted his shoulder. “Go to her. Be a friend. That’s what she needs most of all in a world that seems so strange to her.”
“Do you think she’s immortal?”
“Only time will tell.” Xern grinned at his own joke.
Dracolin groaned as he headed out the door.
His heart quickened its pace when he saw no sign of Persephonice at the pond. The water sprite was nowhere in sight and only a golden-winged butterfly fluttered about a ruby-throated neleron flower at the water’s edge.
“Persephonice!” he shouted in panic.
Chapter 12
The water sprite had directed Persephonice to a woodland sprite, who now urged her deeper into the forest. “Come, come, you have the gift of language. Tell us what this creature wants.”
The sprite tossed her head, causing her light brown curls to hang long over her back. Her green gowns flowed with her movement as she nearly blended with the green-needled trees. Petite in stature, she stood about a foot shorter than Persephonice, like the water sprite.
“What is this creature?”
“We do not know, sister of the mermaids.” Her voice was no more than a tinkling of bells.
But to Persephonice, the sprite’s words were as clear as her own. “The water sprite is confused to think that I’m a sister of the mermaids. I have no fishtai
l.”
The woodland sprite laughed and the melodic sound cheered Persephonice’s heart as if she listened to a chorus of well-orchestrated bell music.
“The merfolk have passed this along to the water sprites. If they say you are their sister, that is what you are. Also they say the local sea king’s brother, Prince Aquarian, wishes you as his bride.”
“I couldn’t live under the water forever. I’m not a mermaid. I have to come up for air.”
The woodland sprite smiled. “They have seen to this difficulty. The word is you were a cousin of the merfolk, unable to have some of the same abilities. But now you have them.” She glanced down at Persephonice’s legs. “Only you will never have the fishtail. The word has spread from river to pond to lake and beyond, you are sister to the merfolk and no water creature shall harm you.”
Well that was good to know. Except Persephonice had no intention of being a merman’s bride. She didn’t believe the mermaid who bit her, wouldn’t make the effort again.
From a distance, she thought she heard Dracolin call out her name in panic. She began to turn, not wanting to worry the shadow elf.
The sprite took her hand and pulled her forward. The sprite’s delicate fingers had a grip like the merfolk, determined and strong. “Come, come, we think she is sick or wounded or something. She paces and paces, but won’t leave the spot of woods she’s claimed her own. ‘Tis our woods. We share them with the shadow elves, but we do not want everyone taking up residence here. If everyone did, soon there would be no room for the woodland sprites.”
“What does she look like?”
“Like that.” The woodland sprite pointed to the shadows where a sphinx paced. The half lion, winged creature stopped for a moment to see the intruders.
The sphinx growled in her lion language, “What manner of creature are you?”
“Some say a high elf, others a mermaid.”
The woodland nymph stared up at Persephonice. “You understand her?”
“Yes. Though she has a human head and…” She glanced at the sphinx’s long golden hair, the same color as her lion’s fur, covering her bare breasts. “And some of the rest of her. She should be able to speak with us.”
