The Selkie Song

by H. K. Varian

  Moments later Fiona climbed into bed and opened The Compendium. The yellowed pages, with their ornate script and detailed illuminations, were familiar in ways that felt almost comforting to Fiona. At this point, she’d read The Compendium from cover to cover more times than she could count. And yet, each time she opened it, Fiona felt like she always stumbled upon a new fact or piece of Changer lore that she hadn’t known before.

  “Selkies . . . ,” Fiona whispered to herself as her bright green eyes scanned the text. She turned the page, and the words shivered, the letters spiraled across the parchment, rearranging themselves to form all new words. . . .

  Selkie Songs

  The type of Waterborne Changer known as the selkie, or seal-being, is Unique in its strange ability to use the power of Song in its magic. Such Songs are carefully guarded by selkie-kind, and neither pleading nor threatening can compel a selkie to disclose the Secrets of their Songs. It is a Strange Truth that these Songs are, for all their Secrecy, quite Common. Many Changers and even Humans have heard their ancient Melodies, frequently mistaking them for the Songs of Whales or other Sea Beasts.

  A puzzled frown crossed Fiona’s face. So selkie songs sound like whale songs, she thought.

  Fiona turned the page. To her delight, the words trembled and rearranged themselves again, revealing another entry about selkies that she’d never seen before.

  Dachaigh

  One Song of the selkie-kind is called “Dachaigh.” It is a Call for Homecoming known to all selkies. The moment a selkie enters the Sea, she will Hear its delicate notes, even through the Roughest Waters. “Dachaigh” will lead a selkie to her Queen from any Oceanic point in the world. All she must do is Follow the notes of the Song. “Dachaigh” also means that selkies can always find their Queen, who is entrusted with the most Powerful of all selkie Songs, one with the ability to Bind, Break, and Destroy.

  Fiona flipped the page eagerly, but the entry ended abruptly, with no further information about selkies or their songs. Oh, come on! she thought in frustration. What did The Compendium mean by “the most Powerful of all selkie Songs?” Was that the weapon Ms. Therian had told her about, the song that Fiona needed to convince her mother to use in the battle against Auden Ironbound?

  She had to learn more. She had to know.

  But even though Fiona spent hours poring over each page in The Compendium, the words were still and unmoving. The book itself felt different in her lap; lighter, less intense. It was like The Compendium had closed itself, even though its covers were wide open.

  The bedside lamp was still blazing when Fiona finally fell into an exhausted, uneasy sleep. It felt like just minutes later that Dad was gently shaking her shoulder, saying “Fiona? Wake up, Fee,” in a low voice near her ear.

  “What time is it?” Fiona asked, rubbing her bleary eyes. She reached for The Compendium and gently closed its worn leather cover.

  “It’s time,” Dad replied—and that was all he needed to say for Fiona to remember her mission, set to begin at dawn. She hadn’t closed the curtains last night, and now she could see that the night sky had begun to lighten to an inky shade of blue.

  “Am I late?” Fiona asked anxiously as she scrambled out of bed.

  “No,” Dad replied. “Your teacher just arrived. She’s waiting downstairs.”

  “Ms. Therian’s here?” Fiona said.

  Dad nodded. “Go ahead and get dressed,” he said.

  Then Dad left the room, but even after he was gone, Fiona felt like she could still hear his words reverberating in the air.

  It’s time.

  The cobwebs cleared from her sleep-deprived brain. Fiona dressed in a rush, her heart pounding furiously. It was overwhelming: Fiona’s first solo mission—her first trip alone into selkie territory—her first chance to speak with her mother in almost ten years.

  She tucked The Compendium under her arm and then paused to take a deep, steadying breath. This was it.

  And Fiona was ready.

  When Fiona entered the living room, Ms. Therian and Dad were standing together in a strained silence; Fiona imagined that they didn’t have much to say to each other. They both looked relieved to see her.

  “I have The Compendium,” Fiona said to Ms. Therian. “Thank you for letting me borrow it last night.”

  “Of course,” Ms. Therian said. “I trust that it told you everything you need to know.”

  “I hope so,” Fiona replied, wondering what other secrets about selkies the book might hold—and when it would reveal them to her.

  “We mustn’t tarry,” Ms. Therian said crisply. “The sun will be up soon.”

  “Okay,” Dad said. “Let’s go.”

  Then, to Fiona’s surprise, Dad turned to her with his hand extended. Suddenly she remembered all the times she had held his hand when she was small—crossing a busy street, splashing through the waves, watching a scary movie. That seemed so long ago, but the moment Fiona took her father’s hand, she felt calmer.

  I can do this, she thought as the three of them began the short walk to the ocean. Her training, her missions, her hours in the saltwater pool at school: it had all been leading up to this moment.

  “Listen,” Dad said as they arrived at the shoreline. There was an unusual urgency in his voice. “I want you to stay safe. Don’t talk to any other Changers—not even if they offer you help. Swim straight for your mother and don’t stop until you reach her, do you understand?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “I do.”

  “Fiona, what I’m about to tell you is essential,” Ms. Therian began. “The selkies must not know that you’ve been sent by Changers. If they think that the First Four are using you as some kind of pawn or spy . . .”

  Fiona frowned. “What do you—”

  “If anyone asks, tell them that you’ve come to find your mother,” Ms. Therian interrupted her.

  “So . . . you want me to lie?” asked Fiona.

  “No, not lie, exactly—” Dad began.

  Ms. Therian spoke over him. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m telling you to do. Your safety, Fiona—and I know your father agrees with me—is of the utmost importance. I cannot stress that enough. Do whatever it takes to protect yourself. Whatever it takes.”

  Fiona nodded.

  “Keep your wits about you,” Ms. Therian continued. “For selkies, time loses all meaning in the ocean. If you lose focus, it might feel like mere minutes have slipped away, only for you to return and discover that a decade has passed. And your father is right: no matter what, do not speak to any other Changers you might encounter. With Auden Ironbound approaching, there’s no telling who might be lurking in these waters or which Changers might be sympathetic to his cause.”

  “I understand,” Fiona said. Then she reached forward and embraced Ms. Therian in a hug. Ms. Therian rocked back on her heels, momentarily taken aback—but within a second she was returning Fiona’s hug just as tightly.

  Fiona turned to her father next. He wrapped his arms around her before she could reach for him. “See you tonight, Fee,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you.”

  “See you tonight,” Fiona replied, glad that he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

  The pink glow of the rising sun lit up the sky as Fiona pulled away from her father. She approached the ocean without a single backward glance. When the cold water lapped at her ankles, Fiona wrapped the selkie cloak across her shoulders and spun around in the surf.

  It was that easy.

  For a moment she completely forgot about her father and Ms. Therian standing on the shore, watching her disappear beneath the choppy waves. How could Fiona spare a thought for them when her heart was close to bursting? The joy she felt taking her selkie form, diving and darting through the open ocean, was impossible to describe.

  It was everything.

  Fiona could’ve surfaced, could’ve breathed in the salty sea air, but what would be the point? She could hold her breath underwater longer and longer. Besides, sh
e didn’t need air the same way now, not the way she needed the water.

  Not the way she needed her mother.

  The song was calling her.

  “Dachaigh.”

  Louder, clearer, and sweeter than ever. Somehow, someway, Fiona just knew that was her mother’s voice.

  It felt like she was singing for Fiona and Fiona alone.

  The very thought filled Fiona with such joy that she breached the waves in a graceful leap. It was better than running or jumping or skipping; it was even better, Fiona guessed, than flying. Darren could keep the wide blue skies; Fiona had the ocean, and that was the only thing she would ever want in this world.

  I’m coming, Mom, Fiona thought, wishing she could sing those words in the language of the selkies, hoping that her thoughts could somehow reach her mother across the many miles of ocean between them. Then she swam freely, her heart filled with happiness. There was a soothing sameness to the waves. Before long, Fiona could anticipate each one before it reached her, and she relaxed into them, letting them carry her farther and farther from shore, until at last all she could see was the vast blueness around her: sea and sky, sky and sea.

  Fiona swam. On and on and on.

  Then, there it was: a solid smudge against the horizon that somehow seemed to grow larger as the compelling notes of “Dachaigh” grew louder.

  Land.

  By ancient instinct, Fiona knew where she was. These were the Isles of Saorsie, the selkies’ homeland on this side of the world. And it felt like home already, even though she’d never set foot on those islands.

  The waters grew shallower as Fiona approached. Soon, she could brush against the sandy bottom and still keep her head above water. Fiona could see steel-gray rocks jutting out from the water; they seemed to lead toward a cluster of small islands. The rocks were covered with seals, dozens of seals, all basking in the golden sunlight, all watching Fiona’s approach.

  Somehow, she sensed that they’d known she was coming all along.

  When Fiona finally reached the shore and shook off her cloak, she was stunned to see that the sun was already past its peak. I must’ve been swimming for eight hours or more, she thought, but it only felt like minutes.

  Along the sandbars and rocky outcrops near the shore, the selkies began to change into their human forms: men with shell necklaces, and women with elaborately braided hair, all wearing cloaks of different colors. Never once did their eyes leave Fiona as she began walking up the beach. Is Mom among them? she wondered. What if I don’t recognize her?

  Fiona grew more nervous with every step; she didn’t even notice when some of the selkies began to bow to her. A beautiful woman stepped out from a rocky cave at the island’s heart. She wore a tiara of coral and pearls; a luxurious copper cloak hung from her shoulders. The woman’s green eyes glowed with warmth; her brilliant red hair blazed. But nothing was brighter than the love that radiated from her face.

  Fiona didn’t need to worry.

  She recognized her mother at once.

  Chapter 6

  The Selkie Queen

  Fiona had been dreaming of this moment since she’d first learned that her mother was alive, but now that she was living it, she wasn’t sure what to do. Her feet were rooted to the sand as she stared at her mother—so beautiful, so alive—in disbelief. Should she run to her? Hug her? Curtsy? Drop to the sand in a deep bow?

  Her mother crossed the sand with smooth, elegant strides and took Fiona in her arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “My girl, you’ve come home to me,” the queen said.

  The memories came rushing back to Fiona: her mother’s soft skin, the feel of her strong arms, the whiff of gardenia that perfumed her hair. She hadn’t forgotten her mother at all; the memories had been safely tucked away in her heart.

  That’s when the tears came. But Mom didn’t seem to mind; she rocked Fiona and sang to her just the way she had when Fiona was a little baby. And even now, it made Fiona feel better—just like it used to.

  “Mom,” Fiona said, trying the word out. It felt good to say it aloud after so long. “Mom. I never thought we’d be together again.”

  “Oh, Fiona,” her mother said. “I’ve always been near, watching over you. How proud I’ve been, all these years, seeing you grow into such a fine person. How good it feels to tell you that at last.”

  Mom brushed the tears from Fiona’s face, beaming at her. “Come,” she said, taking Fiona by the hand. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

  Fiona expected her mother to take her to the cave, but instead, Queen Leana brought her down the beach, away from the selkies’ curious eyes. Small, twisted pines that had been sculpted by hard winds and salty ocean spray sheltered this side of the island. It was cooler, calmer, and quieter—the perfect place for a long heart-to-heart talk.

  But that wasn’t what Mom had in mind either.

  “I know you had a long journey to get here,” she began. “But would you like to go for a swim?”

  “With you?” Fiona exclaimed. “Yes! Of course!”

  “You’re not too tired?” asked Mom.

  “Not at all,” Fiona assured her.

  “Follow me, then.” She clutched her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and transformed in one seamless motion, and there she was: the copper-colored seal with the bright, intelligent eyes that Fiona had seen so many times before.

  Your turn, Mom thought to Fiona.

  Fiona had never felt prouder to wrap her precious cloak across her shoulders than under her mother’s approving gaze. After she took her seal form, Fiona realized that she was a full head shorter than her mother. I guess even my selkie form still has some growing to do, she thought.

  Fiona followed her mother into the azure waters. The seas were calm, making it even easier for Fiona to bob and spin through the sun-dappled water. She and her mother raced together, over and under the waves, and it felt, for a moment, like they’d never been apart. Maybe that’s the magic of the water, Fiona thought as she heard her mother humming a beautiful melody. Or maybe that’s the magic of the selkies, that time loses all meaning here and all the pain of the past washes away with it.

  After a while Fiona realized that Mom was guiding her back to shore. She still wasn’t tired—she wondered briefly if it was even possible for selkies to get tired from swimming—but she had a feeling that she and her mother were going to talk.

  Back on the soft white sands, Mom sat down and squeezed the water from Fiona’s long hair, then used her fingers to comb out the tangles. Fiona closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun as her mother began to braid her hair in the style Fiona had seen on the selkies on the beach.

  “I can imagine what you must be thinking,” Mom began. “All these years, gone . . . Why? Why didn’t I come for you? Why didn’t I find a way to contact you when I was so close the whole time?”

  Fiona nodded.

  “I certainly can’t blame you. I would be wondering the same things. I’ll do my best to explain.

  “We are descended from a royal bloodline,” Mom continued. “But for a thousand years that was nothing more than a quaint tidbit of selkie lore—ancient history, you might say. Under the leadership of the First Four, the selkies were just another part of the Changer nation. We had no need for a queen of our own anymore. It became a ceremonial title only, and over time, even that faded into nothingness. Which was all right with me.”

  “You didn’t want to be queen?” asked Fiona.

  Mom laughed, a beautiful, clear sound like the ringing of a bell. “No, never!” she exclaimed. “It was wonderfully freeing. I was the great-great-great-granddaughter of the last queen, but my life was my own. I could go where I wanted, do what I wanted, be whoever I wanted to be. And I was never more grateful for that than when I fell in love with your father. There was nothing to stand in our way . . . certainly not my lineage.

  “But discontent was brewing among the selkies,” Mom explained. “We’ve always been proud, you kno
w. It’s not one of our better qualities. And some among us began to feel that our relationship with other Changers was . . . exploitative, I suppose, would be the best word.”

  Fiona frowned. “Why did the selkies think that?”

  “The selkies had fought in the Changers’ wars and used their magic to establish the Changer nation,” Mom told her. “But there was no selkie included in the First Four’s leadership council. I don’t believe it was intentional, but that slight didn’t sit well with our kind. They felt they’d sacrificed a great deal and received little in return. They were adamant that we didn’t need the Changers’ protection—or even their friendship.”

  Fiona felt as though there had to be something she was missing here; couldn’t all this have been settled with a simple meeting? Fiona prepared to speak, but Mom held up a finger.

  “I know you’re a student of Dorina Therian; I’ve always had great respect for the First Four,” she said. “But you must try to understand the concerns of your kind. Selkies fought valiantly, undertook the most dangerous missions, created magical objects without question, and freely shared the power of our songs. Yet we were excluded from leadership, never allowed to know all the details. Why were we fighting? Who were we fighting? What were our enchanted objects being used for?”

  Fiona stared at the horizon, deep in thought. I can see their point, she admitted to herself.

  “You were three years old when a messenger arrived at our cottage,” Mom continued in a quiet voice. “Calls for violence were escalating, and it was rumored that the selkies were ready to fight for their freedom. We were on the brink of war. The messenger begged me to return to the homeland with her. ‘We need our queen,’ she said. ‘We need royal blood to show us the way. To lead us.’ All I had to do, Fiona, was return. They had already pledged their loyalty to me.”

  “So that’s why you left,” Fiona said.

  “Not exactly,” her mother replied. “I have always been against violence. If I could help prevent a war, I knew in my heart it was my duty to do so—not just for my kind, but for all the world . . . and especially for you and your father. A war among Changers would be a terrible thing for non-magical beings. So I returned to the Isles of Saorsie as a voice for peace.