Storm Singing and other Tangled Tasks

by Lari Don

  Strathy strode up. “Welcome to our feast, honoured guests. You have arrived as we conduct tribal business, so we must ask you to wait with the other contestants and their supporters in a side cave. Roxburgh, would you show the way?”

  Roxburgh led them to an archway at the right of the feasting hall. He stood back and frowned at Yann, Helen, Lavender and Catesby as they walked and flew past him, then left them to follow a long sloping tunnel down to a smaller cave, with a deeper pool and a wetter raised floor. The selkies’ other guests were already there, sitting on rock stools and benches.

  Helen gasped at the sight of the nearest guests, dressed in floaty fabric like the selkies wore, but much less of it. Slimmer and taller than the plump cold-water selkies. Perfectly groomed, with long curly blonde or red hair and beautiful faces.

  And fishtails.

  The fishtails shouldn’t really be a surprise. Helen had read mermaid books as a wee girl. She’d even had a mermaid costume, with a tight shiny blue fishtail which made it impossible to walk properly.

  These mermaids weren’t walking about either. They were perched prettily on the edge of the pool, giggling and nibbling snacks.

  Then Helen saw something more surprising than the fishtails. Almost a third of the posing beauties at the water’s edge had shoulder-length rather than waist-length hair, and the fins on their tails were less lacy.

  They were boys, with fine thin faces, but strong swimmers’ arms. Mermen as well as mermaids.

  Helen was used to standing open-mouthed in surprise at the sights of her friends’ world. But Yann was standing beside her, also gazing at the mermaids. “I didn’t … I never …”

  The slimmest mermaid, with long red hair, called in a voice as bright as morning and as clear as ice, “Oh LOOK! Our land-based saviours. We are SO grateful for your BRAVE defence of us this afternoon. Please DO join us. We’d LOVE to hear ALL about your adventures.”

  Catesby snorted through his beak.

  Helen nodded. “Absolutely. I completely agree.”

  Yann recovered from his trance. “Did you understand what Catesby said?”

  “No,” said Helen, “but we’re the only ones not gazing at the mermaids like they’re made of chocolate, so I guessed.”

  Because Lavender was gazing too. “The cut of those dresses. How clever …”

  Helen sighed, and turned to put her rucksack on a rock chair. She noticed the other young guests waiting in the small cave while the elders had their meeting: the blue loons, sitting at a round table. After seeing the mermen, it wasn’t a surprise to see that almost half of the blue teenagers were girls. They did have blue skin, blue jeans, grey vests and slicked-back black hair, but they were definitely girls.

  Yann noticed them too, and stamped over. Helen followed more quietly.

  The blue loons all stood up, and formed a dark line facing the angry centaur.

  “How dare you attack the selkies’ guests like that?” Yann demanded.

  Before the blue loons answered, Helen heard some delighted “ooohs” from the mermaids behind her.

  Then the boy who’d rescued her oar stepped forward and held out his hand to Yann. “I am Tangaroa. I’m the blue men’s representative in tomorrow’s contest. I’m delighted to meet you, land warrior, and I apologise for our dramatic encounter earlier. It is our custom. I’m sure your people also have customs which surprise visitors to your world.”

  “You apologise?” Yann was surprised to get what he wanted. So surprised, Helen suspected he would demand something else.

  “Of course. I regret it if we frightened you, centaur.”

  Helen almost laughed, as Yann spluttered, “You didn’t frighten me!”

  The boy shrugged his wide shoulders. “We did catch you at a disadvantage. Even so, you all rhymed wonderfully.”

  Helen put her hand on Yann’s flank, while Catesby whispered in his ear, both signalling the same thing: calm down, shake his hand, make peace. But Yann took another aggressive stride forward. Tangaroa didn’t retreat, he just kept his hand out.

  So Helen stepped in front of Yann, and took the hand. It felt a bit greasy, but she shook it firmly. “We accept your apology, even though you didn’t apologise in rhyme.”

  Tangaroa grinned. “Would you like to join us?” He waved towards the stone table and stools.

  Yann said stiffly, “I can’t join you until your attack on my person and honour has been avenged.”

  “If you resent us challenging you in our sport of rhyming, on our element of water,” said Tangaroa, “why don’t you challenge us to a land sport?”

  Yann took a step back, and looked at the blue loons. As if he was measuring them, Helen thought, to see how far he could kick them.

  Yann said, “We can’t race on this island, as the only decent stretch of grass is on the slope visible from land. And I didn’t bring my bow for an archery competition.” He glanced at the piles of ropes and chains at the back of the cave. “What about tug-of-war on the eastern beach?”

  Tangaroa frowned. “You’re challenging us to ten individual tugs-of-war? We’ll be late for the feast.”

  “No,” said Yann. “Just one tug-of-war. Me against all of you at once.”

  The blue loons laughed. Suddenly there was a babble of technical discussion about lengths of rope, who should referee (Catesby volunteered), and how Yann would get to the beach (Tangaroa offered to row him), then they rushed out of the cave, leaving Helen on her own by the blue loons’ table.

  Not completely on her own. Lavender was still on her shoulder, muttering, “Boys, and their games.”

  “Better than fighting,” said Helen, stretching her stiff arms. “And they weren’t all boys.”

  “Could we go and sit with the mermaids?” whispered Lavender.

  “If you want,” Helen replied. “I’d just as happily lie down, though, I’m quite tired.”

  “I’d love to. I’ve never met a mermaid before.”

  Helen walked down to the mermaids, who were smiling and waving, almost cooing encouragement.

  Helen had experienced the forest faeries’ glamour, so she wasn’t entirely convinced by the mermaids’ perfect beauty. They were wearing so much jewellery and make-up, it was hard to focus on their faces. When she stared, almost rudely, their faces seemed long and pointy with narrow noses and sharp chins.

  They kept smiling, and chorusing: “DO join us. DO let us make you welcome until the selkies can say thank you properly.”

  Helen found herself on a long stone bench, with one mermaid massaging her aching shoulders, another pressing a warm mug into her hands, and another offering a tray of tiny pink snacks.

  The mermaid with the bright red hair was perched in front of Helen, her silver tail coiled around a rock stool. “DO tell us about that nasty sea-through. That must have been SO exciting. Or were you scared, or were you confused, or was it all a BLUR? DO tell …”

  Helen told a shortened version of the tale they’d told the selkie elders, and finished by asking, “Why do you think it attacked Roxburgh, rather than anyone else?”

  “Oooh,” said the fire-haired mermaid, “it could have been ANY ONE of us. You saved us all. We’re SO grateful.”

  That wasn’t a particularly useful answer, but Helen could discuss the sea-through properly with Rona later. However, the mermaids might tell her what Rona hadn’t wanted to.

  “Which of you is competing tomorrow?” she asked casually. “And what are the three tasks?”

  The mermaid in front of her answered proudly, “I am Serena, and I have the PRIVILEGE of being the mermaids’ representative, so I will be racing and questing and taking part in various challenging … challenges. But let’s talk about YOU! What lovely DARK hair …”

  Helen looked round. Where was Lavender?

  The fairy’s wings must be drying out, because she had fluttered over to a blonde mermaid, to admire a string of black pearls.

  Helen yawned. She couldn’t help it. She had climbed up a cliff twice tha
t day, fought a see-through sea monster, and rowed a horse across the sea.

  “Sorry …” she turned back to Serena. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Your hair. We know how DIFFICULT it is keeping hair TIDY, with the wind and the salt, so can WE comb it for you?”

  “Of course, but I don’t need it all fancy like yours.”

  “This isn’t FANCY,” said Serena, pulling a comb from a bag at her waist. “You should see us when we get DRESSED UP!”

  So Helen sat on the bench, surrounded by mermaids combing her hair and singing. In the damp warmth, with the tickly feeling she always got at the back of her neck when someone else was doing her hair, with soothing mermaid song in her ears, and her tired arms finally relaxing, Helen closed her eyes.

  She didn’t open her eyes again until she felt cold water touch her face.

  She was lying on the bench on her left side. The water was touching her left cheek, her left hip, her left ankle.

  It was the sea, rising in the cave.

  Helen sat up, and was jerked back by a searing pain in her head. She tried to sit up again, but she fell back down onto the bench.

  She was still half asleep, but the chilly water woke her up fast enough to work out several important things all at once:

  She was tied down.

  By her hair.

  To the bench.

  The sea was rising fast.

  And she was alone in the cave.

  Chapter 10

  Helen gasped in panic, then coughed as salt water splashed into her mouth.

  She tried to sit up more slowly, but she couldn’t. Her head was definitely tied down. She twisted over to lie on her back, lifting her nose and mouth away from the rising water.

  She slid her hands behind her head, and felt lots of tiny strands of hair. She remembered the mermaids brushing her hair. Had they been plaiting it?

  Under the tangle of plaits, she felt a rough, grainy line of curved metal. A chain. She wasn’t tied to the bench. Each plait was knotted into the links of a rusty chain.

  Helen took a deep breath. Her hair was tied to a heavy chain in a cave of rising water. If she didn’t do anything, she would drown. She had to untie the plaits.

  She tried to grasp a plait between thumbs and fingers to unknot it. But her fingers were cold in the water, she couldn’t see what she was doing, she couldn’t untangle one plait from all the rest, let alone untie the end from the metal. All she did was scrape her knuckles on the rusty chain.

  The water was covering Helen’s throat now, her face just an island in the water, her elbows and knees rising up either side and in front of her. How much longer did she have before the seawater covered her mouth and nose? How many more breaths could she take?

  She concentrated on not panicking. There was time to think her way out of this.

  If she wasn’t tied to a piece of furniture, just to a chain, all she had to do was lift the chain. Pull it up, and sit up. Then she could walk to the dry part of the cave, dragging the chain with her, and untangle her hair there.

  So she grasped the links between her hands and tried to sit up, not pulling with her head, but lifting the weight with her arms.

  It didn’t hurt as much, but the chain was stretched tight under her, and her arms were at an awkward angle, so she couldn’t move it at all.

  She was struggling to breathe now, because her attempts to sit up were disturbing the water and pushing ripples up her nose. She had to get out of here. Could she just rip her hair out of the chain?

  So she jerked again, hauling her head up, using her tummy muscles and neck muscles, pushing with her hands on the bench. She tugged and pulled, hoping that her hair would break at the ends, or even rip out of her scalp.

  It hurt. It hurt worse than anything she’d ever felt. But it didn’t free her from the chain.

  Helen sobbed as she tried again. Perhaps it would take more strength than she had, to rip thousands of hairs out of her scalp all at once.

  She yelled out, “One more time!” and pulled again. Her voice echoed round the cave, but her head didn’t lift more than a centimetre out of the water.

  As she splashed back down, holding her breath so the waves didn’t overwhelm her, she heard her voice echo, and wondered whether anyone else had heard it. There was a long tunnel between her and the feasting hall. If she screamed, would anyone at the feast hear her? Would anyone get here before she drowned?

  It was all she had left. Once the water settled and her face was in clear air, she took a deep breath …

  Then she heard the most wonderful sound in the world, better than any music: the sound of hooves on stone.

  It was the beat she knew so well. The staccato trot of an impatient centaur.

  She yelled, “Yann!”

  “Come on, Helen, you’re missing the …”

  Helen twisted round to look at the entrance, turning her face into the rising water, and saw blurs of colour through the salt in her eyes.

  Purple. Orange. Silver. Brown.

  Lavender. Catesby. Rona. Yann.

  All yelling at once: “Helen!” “What are you …?” “How …?”

  “Shut up and help me! My hair’s tied to a chain. I’m about to drown!”

  Lavender and Rona dashed towards her, Yann and Catesby turned and sped away up the tunnel. Rona dived into the pool and swam round to Helen’s right. Lavender hovered above her.

  Helen could feel Rona’s fingers behind her head, then the selkie surfaced beside her. “There are dozens of plaits. I can’t untie them all. Back in a minute.” She dived off again.

  Where had Rona gone? Would a minute be too long? Helen was tilting her chin up simply to breathe.

  “Maybe she’s gone to block the water’s entrance into the cave,” said Lavender in a wobbly voice. “Or something else useful. Don’t panic.”

  “I’m not panicking.” Helen hoped that was true.

  “Keep still, and I’ll try an unwinding spell. It’s for wool, but it might work on human hair.” Lavender perched on Helen’s forehead, picking up strands of her fringe and murmuring soft syllables.

  Now Helen couldn’t see any of her friends. She knew they were all trying to help her. But she couldn’t see them. She needed someone to hold her hand. Or talk to her. Not mutter on her forehead with little stilettos digging into her skin.

  Lavender bounced back in view. “I can’t do it! I’m having to release each hair individually and there isn’t enough time … I’m sure someone’s coming. Hold your breath. Don’t breathe in!”

  Helen couldn’t breathe in. She was now completely underwater. Her nose, her mouth, her eyes. All under the cold salt water.

  There was a splash beside her. Rona stuck her hands under Helen’s shoulder, and yelled, “Lift the chain!”

  “I can’t, I’ve tried!” Helen bubbled with the last of her breath.

  “I’ve unhooked it! It’ll be easier to move now. Lift, Helen, lift!”

  Helen put her hands behind her, wrapped her fingers round an oval link and lifted. She felt Rona take the strain too. They both hauled at the rusty chain.

  Suddenly Helen was sitting on the bench, water up to her ribs, and a painfully heavy chain draped over her shoulder.

  At that moment, Yann galloped in with an axe, and Catesby swooped in with a dagger.

  “Too late, boys!” spluttered Helen. “Rona has already rescued me.”

  Yann splashed into the water, lifted the chain and carried it to the highest point of the cave, Helen following awkwardly, her head still attached.

  “I think those mermaids tried to drown me,” Helen coughed, as she sat down slowly.

  “First things first,” said Lavender. “Let’s get this chain off you.”

  “I can cut her hair free,” said Yann, waving the axe.

  “No!” said Rona, Lavender and Helen all at once.

  “I’ll try to untangle each plait with magic and my fingers,” said Lavender, “and if I can’t, we’ll use Catesby’s dagg
er to slice them carefully right at the end, so we don’t cut too much off.”

  Helen lay down on her side, and Lavender started to loosen the plaits one at a time.

  “Who tried to drown you?” asked Yann.

  “The mermaids. They brushed my hair when you went out for your tug-of-war …”

  “Which I won, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t wondering, I was drowning. They brushed my hair, and sang to me, and I was so tired after rowing some great lump across the bay that I fell asleep, and everyone went away and left me.”

  Lavender broke off her spell. “You looked so peaceful, and the selkies called us through for the speeches. We were coming to get you in time for the starters.”

  “Did you leave me tied to a chain?”

  “Of course not! We left you safe on the bench, with no chain in sight. You did have these plaits, though. Your hair will be nice and crinkly when I’m done. The hair you have left anyway.”

  “So, either the mermaids came back during the speeches, found a chain and tied me to it, or someone else did. But who, and why? And what is this chain anyway?” Helen thumped it with her fist.

  “It was left here by smugglers,” explained Rona. “A couple of hundred years ago, smugglers hid brandy and tobacco in these caves, and we had to have our pups on open beaches in the autumn. Then one of our chief’s daughters started flirting with a Custom and Excise officer’s son, and told him about the cave, so the smugglers were arrested and we got our home back. The officers took the boxes and barrels, but the chains and ropes were left behind. That chain was still attached to the wall, which was why you couldn’t sit up until I unhooked it.”

  “So did the mermaids plait my hair so they could tie me to that chain?”

  “Serena and her friends just like doing hair,” said Lavender, breaking out of her spells again. “I’m sure they didn’t plan to hurt you.”

  “Whoever tied you to the chain couldn’t plan it in advance,” Yann pointed out, “because no one could know you would fall asleep here.”