by Lani Lenore
“Me…to rid the waters of nymphs?”
“Not all of them, to be sure,” Ellister explained. “You see, I am of the belief that they are not all hideous creatures in disguise. I believe that some of them are actually beautiful all of the time, and that they do not thrive off of human flesh. We do not want to destroy them all. No, we want to separate the fair from the monstrous. No sense in murdering the innocent, after all.”
Nathan listened to these words, but in the back of his mind, he was wondering many things. How had the crown prince, Thaddeus Ellister, come to know the truth? That would have to mean that he was close enough to a mermaid at some point to see through her true form—and close enough to know that she was nothing more than beautiful. Though he wondered over this story, he was cautious to ask.
“I trust I will have your cooperation in this matter,” Ellister said, refusing more wine that a servant had offered him. Nathan had nearly gotten lost in his own thoughts, but he came back suddenly.
“Why choose to trust me so quickly?” he inquired genuinely. “You do not know me, you have no idea what I have done, and you certainly do not know if I can do what you would ask of me.”
As if having been prepared for this, Ellister nodded his head, smiling shortly.
“I imagine that you were quite surprised when you climbed aboard that fishing vessel and found the crown prince and his entourage.”
Nathan nodded, though he did not need to.
“We have set up many nets in these waters, in rocky areas of the sea. It is not that we hope to catch them in those nets, mind you—they are much too clever for that—but they tend to stay away from those areas as if they are being smarter than we are. They do also tear those nets down if they are hindering them. I go personally to sum up the damage, for no one is a greater expert than I on these matters.”
And how is that? Nathan forgot that he had not wiped his hands.
“The time has come when something else must be tried, and these things will not be those that I can deal with myself. It is thought, apparently, that I have not been paying enough attention to other matters that are equally important to me as future king. But I cannot trust just anyone. I could not possibly, for instance, trust someone honest or simple, for this is a dirty business. I have secrets to protect. However, I cannot share those with you just yet either.”
Nathan did not let it show through on his face, but he was disappointed that he would not know these things. They might be valuable to him later. Thaddeus leaned closer.
“In exchange for doing this delicate work and for keeping my secrets, I offer you an extent of freedom that not even the sea can offer you. I can provide you with anything you desire and you will be nigh invincible—considering you don’t make too large a spectacle of yourself. First though, you must prove you are worthy of this trust I am so graciously bestowing upon you. I do not speak lightly when I say it will not be an easy task.”
Nathan’s interest was piqued. This was a promise of doing anything he wanted, done discretely, without fear of punishment. It was certainly too good to be true, and how difficult could a little test be?
“What is this task?”
“A vessel has been designed. It is not built for speed—which will discourage you from trying to make off with it—but it has been made specifically to hold in a storm, and it is meant for the task I have assigned you. I expect you to take charge of this boat.”
Nathan could not withhold his shock and gall, for he saw the plan emerging before him. He now saw why the prince could not do this himself. It was certainly suicide.
“Do you mean that you expect me to willingly put myself back in the same situation as I was just in a couple of nights ago?” He laughed despite himself. Nathan stood, forgetting the meal. “I would rather have the noose than to share in that fate which my shipmates saw. I consider myself to have escaped it. I would be a fool to try at it again.”
The guards at the door were watching him closely, standing nimbly at any chance he might attack the prince in the heat of the moment. Ellister kept his seat, not seeming troubled by these proclamations.
“It will not be as the last time when you were overtaken and stranded at sea,” he assured the pirate, “because this time you will have something very different on your side.”
“And what exactly is that?”
“My ship, of course.”
Nathan was not convinced. Death was evident with either option he chose, but one was certainly better than the other.
“You will see that I am quite right about all this,” Thaddeus insisted, “as I know I am right about you. You will do a fine job.”
It was as if he had not heard a word Nathan had spoken. Ellister was forcing him to go? Before the pirate could speak, the prince had finalized the plans.
“The next storm should be a fine time to test her out.”
Nathan suddenly recalled a thing that Treasure had spoken to him.
“But it will storm tomorrow,” he blurted before he could decide that it was unwise.
Thaddeus only smiled knowingly. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”
3
There was a sunken vessel just behind the corrupted undersea palace, awash in a wavering forest of weeds. This place was Treasure’s hold—her prison. She had learned to slip in and out of a rotten board in the floor which she would replace, whether she was in or out. This secret of hers had never been found, and she hoped that it never would be, for it was one of the only secrets she had. Those were her only possessions.
She scraped her skin and damaged a couple of scales while forcing herself through the hole, but within seconds she was back inside the cell, peering out through the barnacle-encrusted bars. This hull had been a ship’s brig, and remained the only supposedly secure part of the structure.
Missing boards in the wall of the ship allowed her to see the palace through the forest of shadowy plants. She could not remember a day when it was glorious, so it did nothing to her heart to see the slanted tower there, swallowed by slime and weeds. She preferred not to look at it.
In this time of waiting for guards to come for her, Treasure busied herself with a normal task. She picked at the barnacles from the inside of the cell absently while thinking about the man she had found.
She had been content to watch Nathan from a distance—as she had done to the rest of the humans she had seen—but there was something about him that was different. She had promised herself that she would never get too close, but when she saw that his ship was the target for the feeding, how could she ignore it? She had been compelled to save him, to touch him. She had not been sure how he would treat her, and at first he had been wary and cruel, but she felt he had warmed to her. When he looked in her eyes, it was almost as if he did not see her absence of legs, though she knew he was aware of it.
Her time with him had been the most pleasant of her entire existence, even though it had only been a few brief moments. And he had given her a name! She had heard talk of such a thing before from another slave, and she had always imagined it to be the grandest fantasy to be named by a human. But to have it occur! What a wonderful thing to be accepted by him. From now on, she would think of herself as Treasure.
She had followed the boat that had taken him, and was surprised to see that the vessel had docked at a human king’s palace. She had been aware of this place, knew of its walls. It would be more difficult to see him now.
Treasure snapped out of her thoughts when she heard a nearly silent stirring in the water above her. It was faint, but she knew the sound well. Someone was coming to claim her for her Mistress. In just a short moment, her guess was found correct, for two nymphs from the palace appeared—each looking as cracked statues with brittle hair. They had sharp claws and webbed fingers, and hidden barbs at their wrists that were filled with poison. Without words, they bound her hands in a diamond bracket and pulled her to the palace.
Most times, she was taken into the throne room to hear what her Mistre
ss would demand of her, but today was different. She was taken instead into an upper hall. With that, she remembered why. She had forgotten, and now she was only glad she had gotten back in time. Dread filled her heart.
The eggs…
It had been six months since the last feedings. Eggs had been fertilized within the wombs of those who partook. They had grown inside for a month, and then the eggs were expelled to mature further within the nurturing waters of the sea. After five months, they would hatch. Then, the process started over again with more feedings—all for the sake of multiplying their numbers and keeping their race alive.
Treasure had often wondered what it would be like to reproduce, but she knew she would never find out. She thought she would kill herself if she gave birth to creatures like those who governed her, but with that thought aside, there were other reasons that she was made sick to think of these days. The younglings had to feed.
The young of the deep sea nymphs were encased in opaque, jelly-like casings, making it impossible to tell what they would turn out to be when hatched. Of course it was the hope that they would all come out to be respectable sea nymphs, but because they used human males, more and more imperfects showed themselves each time. This made for several slaves, but it was still considered failure by the Mistress and her kin. However, if the young were suitable, they were allowed to bite the arms of slaves—such as Treasure—taking a bit of their human-like blood to give their new mouths a proper taste. Treasure had been through this many times, and though she healed quickly from so many bite marks, it was not pleasant. She did not look forward to any aspect of it.
Within the chamber, many had already gathered. The Mistress was hovering high up above all the others, looking over the amount of eggs. Nymphs were scattered in populations all across the sea floor, but they all came here to set their eggs. There was certainly a nice mass, and it would make for an increased number of their kind.
Treasure was taken into the midst of them all, set beside a cluster of eggs just as indifferently as any other slave in the room. She was not the Mistress’s servant on this day; only like a slave of the lowest. The imperfects were not allowed to speak to their masters or to each other, and even a misdirected glance might bring wrath upon them. Most simply hovered, their heads down and their hands shackled, too afraid to glance around them. Many of them were even more bruised and tortured than she was.
It was shortly after her arrival that the Mistress gave her approval, and the nymphs began to force the birthing. They pried into the eggs, freeing what was inside—whatever it might be. Before Treasure’s eyes, the first youngling emerged.
Treasure had been very young the first time she had seen one. Back in those days she had not thought much of it, guessing herself to have been like them once. She had not thought the younglings hideous or awful, only accepting their appearance, but the more she saw them and looked also on their adult forms, she could only be disgusted. First born, they resembled eels with scales hardly formed. They had featureless heads and glowing eyes, but no arms. Atop that, one was not to forget about their tiny mouths full of sharp teeth.
Jerking away from her thoughts, the rough hands of a nearby nymph forced Treasure’s arm to outstretch. She wanted to resist, cringing, but fighting would do no good. If she tried, she would be punished, even more than this.
The first youngling sunk its teeth into her arm, grinding into her skin to reach the hidden fountain of her blood. Treasure pinched her lips, knowing that yelping for the pain would only win her reprimand. The small thing sucked her blood as if it were mother’s milk for only a few seconds before it withdrew into the water, and she imagined that a part of her had gone away with it. Before she’d had time to prepare herself, another bit into the crook of her hand, yet another sinking in at her forearm. The draw of blood began to make her feel dizzy, but she forced herself to stay awake.
Above her discomfort, she heard reports from those who tore open the eggs. They yelled out in their high-pitched language.
“Five healthy here!”
“Seven healthy, one imperfect!”
“Two healthy, three dead!”
They were calling out for the Mistress, but all Treasure could think of was the growing size of the Mistress’s army as well as her multitude of slaves. Then, above all others, one cry was heard.
“It’s a male!”
Treasure heard this, but was too disoriented by mild poison from the bites to know what to think. A male? She tried to turn and look in the direction of the call, but the path of sight was blocked by a gathering huddle.
The Mistress darted directly to the spot. She clawed her way past them all, even pushing aside the one who had discovered the youngling. Treasure wondered what her plan would be. Would she nurture this one personally through his every passing day? There was no doubt that the Mistress was beside herself with joy, but Treasure was also witness to the fall of it. When the Mistress had looked down upon the youngling, her elated mood fell into a pit of depression.
From her position, despite her blurred vision, Treasure could see that the only male that had been born in ages was an imperfect. Though the hatchling did not look so different from the rest, his flesh was pink instead of gray. A stone of fear sank in her belly.
The Mistress was furious, her tail bowing. She hissed down at the creature that was half man and half fish—a mockery of what they were meant to be. The longer she stared at him, the angrier she seemed to become. This male, the only one that had been seen in so long, may have been able to father proper offspring, but the Mistress was so enraged that she did not let this sit long enough to consider. With a furious roar, she dug her nails between the pink flesh and the tail of tiny scales and ripped the disgraceful thing apart.
Treasure forgot about her own pain, seeing the blood and bits of flesh float up into the water. She watched the Mistress turn away, leaving a pair of others to gather the mess back down. Treasure observed all of this, taking in every detail. She understood, and she found herself completely appalled.
Do you see? Can you see this?
“This time,” the Mistress shrieked loudly so that all could hear, “no imperfects live!”
Treasure wished she could have rediscovered her pain in order to disregard what came next. She did not want to see it, but it was far too late to dismiss it from her mind. She could not look away as her captors gathered all of the tiny imperfects to them and, one by one, twisted off their heads.
4
Hidden away in the depths, another watched through Treasure’s eyes. Behind her own silver orbs, the dark mermaid saw what the Mistress had done to the ‘imperfects’. She watched, and she clenched her long nails into her fists so tightly that she began to bleed out into the water. Her skin was chilled at these events.
So this was how the Mistress was dealing these days? Rest assured that these circumstances would not happen again.
Within the witch of the sea, a deep anger was kindled.
Chapter Seven
Something Else
1
Thunder grumbled softly within the thick, mountainous clouds, but it fooled no one. The storm within was vengeful and fierce—a pure calamity born of nature. It would be no surprise when the squall came upon the boat, but for the time, the vessel drifted on peacefully.
Nathan leaned over the railing, letting the wind tangle his hair with its weaving fingers. It was not seafaring enjoyment that he considered as he rested there, however. He seemed to be the only one on the boat this night who knew the seriousness of this venture. The rest of them were disbelieving fools—much like he had been once. Nathan understood that if one thing did not go as expected, they all might die tonight. The deep sea nymphs—whether anyone else believed in them or not—were real. Perhaps the rest of the men believed that they were chasing fairytales, but Nathan knew the truth. Even so, he did not sigh into the wind for thoughts of death. Perhaps the Reaper was after him, upset to have not claimed him those few nights before. Tonight, the d
ark angel would try again, but Nathan had every intention of dodging that fate. He would not let himself go so easily.
The ship he rode was an odd one, to be sure. He’d tried his damnedest to keep from laughing when Ellister had shown it to him, concentrating instead on what the crown prince had told him about it. The railing around the edge was a solid wall of wood, and was much taller than one might expect on a boat this size. Other than that, the vessel looked as a simple fishing boat prepared for a storm—only a half mast with trysails, so they would be getting nowhere fast if they’d tried to go off course—but then Ellister had shown him the true purpose of the vessel.
“When the storm creeps upon you, the nymphs will come,” Ellister had told him, sounding so sure of himself, as if he’d been handed down the knowledge from a higher power. “At the first note of their song, you will pull the lever. The lever will do two things. It will lock the wheel so that your helmsman will not take you into the rocks. It will simultaneously drop the line of anchors on the starboard side of the boat, which will drop the side of the ship, and the wall will become the floor. You will be close to the water then, and it will be up to you and your men to kill the surprised nymphs before they kill you first.”
Did Ellister consider this some game of chance? He did not seem too worried or concerned about the fact that things might go wrong and that every one of them might die. On the other hand of it, why should the crown prince care at all? It was no trouble of his if he rid the world of a few pirates.
