Submerging (Swans Landing)

by Norris, Shana

“She wouldn’t be able to answer any questions,” I went on. “She barely even knows her own name.”

  A group of finfolk swam in the water nearby, only a few yards down the beach. They jumped among the waves before disappearing under the surface. They had given us curious looks before entering the water about half an hour before, but none had dared come close. I wondered what the finfolk of Hether Blether thought about us outsiders. We didn’t look any different than they did, but it was obvious we were not a part of their world.

  “You said she’s confused about past and present,” Josh pointed out. “She may very well remember what happened the night our dad died. She may be able to tell us what we need to know.”

  Did Josh ever stop thinking about himself? All he cared about was getting answers to his questions.

  “What she needs is to go home,” I snapped. “She doesn’t need to be locked away in that little shack.”

  Josh looked at me over his shoulder. “Do you honestly think she could swim that far?”

  I crossed my arms and turned away from him, watching the clouds glide across the gray sky.

  “If she could remember that night,” Josh said, “we could have our answers.”

  “You mean, you could have your answers,” I snapped. “I don’t care about anything other than getting my mama home.”

  Josh didn’t look at me as he said, “He was your father too. You should be at least a little curious to know how he died.”

  Biologically, Oliver Canavan was my father, but he had never been more than a name to me. I’d had no photos of him, not like the ones of my mother that I’d poured over so many times while growing up. I had no stories that anyone had told me about him. The only thing I knew was he had been married to another woman, fell in love with my mama, and then drowned.

  He might have been Josh’s daddy, but I had no claim to him.

  “I don’t want to bother her with questions that might upset her,” I said at last. “We’re not going to ask about that night until she gets better.”

  A shout nearby caught our attention. The finfolk that had gone out to swim had gathered together in a group, bobbing among the waves. They shouted to each other, waving others still lingering farther away to come close.

  As we watched, the finfolk waded toward shore, already shedding their fin form. They carried a woman between them, her head limp against her chest. Bright red blood trickled in rivulets down her tail fin from a long gash where her skin met blue-green scales. The woman didn’t change form as they carried her onto the beach and she didn’t respond to their shouts.

  I followed Josh closer to the group. They didn’t look at us as we approached. Everyone bent over the woman, all eyes on her still limp shape on the sand.

  “Caileigh,” a man said in a throaty voice, looking toward an older woman. “She’s been bit.”

  The woman nodded as she pushed a lock of wet gray hair from her lips. She closed her eyes, placing one hand on the injured woman’s stomach.

  A low hum filled the air around us. It was a finfolk song like I had never heard before. The other voices of the group joined in, humming louder and deeper. I waited for the visions of my mama that always came when I heard the song, but nothing happened other than a vibration that filled my body with energy.

  “They’re using both songs,” Josh whispered at my side. He didn’t tear his gaze away from the group. “The songs of earth and water in one.”

  He was right. I could hear and feel the notes of both songs, but they were combined into a melody I’d never known was possible. In Swans Landing, we rarely used the earth songs and I’d never heard of anyone mixing it with a water song.

  The song grew louder, drumming in my ears and making me gasp for deep breaths. Gold bursts sparkled at the sides of my vision. I felt alive and strong

  On the sand, all of the finfolk had their hands on the woman. She writhed, moaning, as her body changed from finfolk to human. The scales dissolved into skin, her tail fin sliding back into place as toes. The gash in her side changed too. As her body remade itself, the skin fused together, closing up as neatly as if it had never been torn. Only the red smear of bloody water on her skin remained as evidence.

  When the song ended, the woman sat up. “I am well,” she assured her friends, giving them a grateful smile.

  The finfolk helped her to her feet. She swayed unsteadily a moment, but then seemed to be perfectly healed.

  My heartbeat pounded in my ears as the effects of the song still lingered within me. I stepped forward.

  “How did you do that?” I asked.

  The finfolk turned toward me, their heads whipping my way at my question. We looked at each other for a long moment, no one daring to move.

  Their gazes flickered toward the palace behind us and then they turned back to the water, diving in without another word.

  I turned to Josh. “Did you see that?”

  He nodded, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know anything like that was possible.”

  Tingles of excitement flooded through me. “If the songs can be used to heal, maybe I can do it for my mother and fix whatever is wrong with her.”

  Why hadn’t we thought of this before? Back home, we used a water song to help new finfolk transition between forms with less pain. The songs could be used for comfort, so why not healing? Since we were connected to both land and water as finfolk, the two songs combined together spoke to both parts of our souls. It made so much sense.

  But Josh looked doubtful. “I’m sure if that could be done, Domnall has already tried it.”

  I clenched my fists at my sides. “We don’t know that. This might be what she needs to make her better.”

  “And what if she never gets better?” Josh asked quietly.

  His question sent a chill through me and I gritted my teeth together.

  “She will,” I told him. “She has to.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Mama?”

  She sat in the dry grass near her cottage, her dull hair blowing in the breeze. She faced the sparkling water that surrounded the peninsula, her lips curled into a small smile.

  My mother didn’t turn as I approached, so I sat down next to her, my movements slow to keep from startling her. As I crossed my legs, I realized she was humming softly as she sat there. I cocked my head, listening to the melody of her song.

  It was familiar, but it wasn’t a finfolk song. It was a church hymn, one I’d heard many times in the Swans Landing Fellowship Church. Grandma used to make me go when I was a kid. The other people—the humans—didn’t like our presence there, so we’d always come in a few minutes late, sit in the back pew, and leave a few minutes early to avoid stares.

  “Do you remember Swans Landing, Mama?” I asked softly.

  Mama shifted in the grass, smiling wide. “It’s going to be a beautiful summer,” she said, her eyes still on the water. “It’s always exciting when the tourists start coming, especially the new people. We all pretend to be ordinary, like them.” Her smile faded a little. “It’s fun to pretend I could be like them. Able to go anywhere I wanted.”

  Her words surprised me. From all the stories I’d heard about my mama and the pictures I’d seen, she’d always seemed so happy in her life on the island. I had always thought the only reason she’d left was because of my daddy’s death and what happened after between the humans and finfolk.

  “You wanted to leave Swans Landing?” I asked.

  “I told him I want to see everything there is to see in the world,” Mama said. “He promised he’d take me one day.” She frowned and looked down at her hands. “But that’s impossible.”

  Something sharp twisted in my stomach. She must have been talking about my daddy and the plans they had made together. I tried to picture them, sitting on the beach back in Swans Landing, planning out a life together they would never get the chance to have.

  I had to try to make her better. I hated seeing her like this, stuck inside her own head.

  “Mama,
” I said, turning so I faced her in the grass. “I’m going to try something, okay? All you need to do is sit here and listen.”

  I reached toward her, but drew my hand back when she flinched.

  “It’s okay,” I assured her. “I won’t hurt you. I need to hold your hand for a minute.”

  Moving very, very slowly, I slipped my hand around her bony one. Her fingers were twigs in my grasp, her skin cold and papery thin.

  I closed my eyes and focused on the vibrations of the earth under me and the water nearby. I pulled the essences of both into me as I took a deep breath.

  I started with a few notes of the water song since I knew it better. Then I focused on pulling in the earth song too.

  My hum cracked, the notes feeling raw and wrong in my throat. I coughed, then tried again.

  Sweat trickled down my forehead as I focused on the two opposing songs. The finfolk on the beach had made it look so easy. But the songs were so different from each other, it was difficult to combine them in a way that made them work together while still being separate. I managed to make them merge for only a few notes, but I couldn’t hold the song very long.

  After a several long minutes of trying, I opened my eyes. The world spun around me and I wanted to sink back into the grass to take a nap.

  Mama still sat at my side, staring out into the water. She didn’t seem to notice my exhaustion.

  “Mama?” I asked.

  I knew it was useless to hope, but a part of me still held onto the tiny fragment of hope that maybe something I’d done had worked.

  Mama smiled. “It’s going to be a beautiful summer,” she said.

  * * *

  Artair stood on the beach near where the rowboat was docked, his back to me. He didn’t turn, even though my footsteps crunching on the sand and broken shells announced my arrival. Thankfully, Domnall had been busy and unable to come with us on this trip to the peninsula and I’d managed to convince Josh to stay behind, so it was just the tall sentry and me.

  “I expect your visit went well,” Artair said when I reached him.

  I cast a glare his way. “Let’s go,” I grumbled.

  He held out a hand to help me into the boat, but I ignored him and climbed in, nearly falling overboard when the boat rocked unexpectedly. The narrow finfolk boat was unlike anything I was used to back home and it made me feel like I’d never had my sea legs.

  Artair sat down, boarding the boat with a fluid movement that didn’t cause even the tiniest sway. He picked up the oars and began rowing, pulling us away from the peninsula, away from my mother.

  It had been a wasted effort, as Josh thought it would be. I hated going back to the palace to tell him he was right. Maybe Domnall had already tried to use the songs on my mother and they hadn’t worked.

  “Why do you insist on being unhappy here?”

  I raised my eyebrows at Artair. “What?”

  “This is the finfolk homeland,” he told me. “You belong here. Yet, you look as if you would rather go back to the human world. You do not try to find happiness here.”

  I crossed my arms. “You wouldn’t understand. This is the only place you’ve ever lived, isn’t it?”

  “It is the only place I have ever been meant to belong,” Artair said. “I have no interest in going anywhere else. What would there be for me in the human world, other than sickness and pain?”

  “It’s not all bad,” I said. “There are good things. TV and movies. Surfing.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “I do not know what those things are, but here in Hether Blether, we have everything we need.”

  “Don’t you ever get bored with it?” I asked. “Don’t you ever wish you could go somewhere else, see something new?”

  Artair was quiet for a moment as he rowed, deep lines etched across his forehead. He was at least fifteen years older than me, maybe more. I hadn’t really looked hard at him before now, but away from the palace, he looked different. Softer.

  “My family is here,” he said at last. “All of my family, back for many generations, have walked these shores and swam in these waters. It is where we belong. It is our home, and it is my duty to protect it.”

  “You can’t survive cut off from the rest of the world forever,” I told him. “There are, what? A few hundred finfolk here. You’ll die out eventually if you don’t introduce new people to the group.”

  “But that is what Domnall is trying to do,” Artair said. He stopped rowing, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned toward me. “If you would tell us where your people are, we could bring them back here and increase the finfolk population. We could ensure the survival of our species.”

  I clamped my mouth shut, lips pressed tight. Had Artair planned this all along to try to get me to tell him about Swans Landing? He was Domnall’s soldier, I had to remember that. Everything Artair did was at Domnall’s command or for his benefit.

  I scowled at him before turning my face toward the village on the other side of the bay. “Take me back to the palace,” I demanded.

  Chapter Twenty

  Domnall stood as we entered the dining room, beaming at us. “Thank you for joining me,” he said in a pleasant tone. He was dressed nicely, in a gray-green robe the color of the ocean. His hair was loose and shining all around his shoulders. Even the scar on his face didn’t stand out as much, so he looked regal and handsome, like a king in a fairy tale.

  The table before him was already full of fruits and fish and breads displayed in gleaming silver trays. My stomach roiled at the sight of more fish. I was so sick of eating fish, I’d do almost anything for a pizza or a cheeseburger.

  Domnall pulled out a chair for me on his left and I sat. Josh took the seat across from me. The table was so full I expected more people to join us, but then Domnall sat and filled his plate from the bowls on the table.

  “Eat,” he said, smiling again.

  Josh and I exchanged a look. After a moment, Josh began filling his plate.

  I studied the dish in front of me. The plate was painted with a picture of a large ship and the date 1850 etched along the bottom. The gold bands etched into the rim were expertly done and looked expensive.

  “Do the finfolk make these dishes?” I asked.

  Domnall gave me an amused smile. “The dishes are given to us by the sea. These are some of the finer pieces we have found.”

  Josh paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “You find them?”

  “On our beaches and in our waters.”

  Josh’s eyes widened. “You mean, from shipwrecks, don’t you?”

  Domnall waved a hand. “I do not know their origin, only that the sea brings them to us. We take almost everything we need from the sea.”

  I gulped, imagining the humans on a doomed ship who had once used the plate that now sat in front of me. I scanned over the tapestries on the walls, the shields and swords displayed as art, the unseeing statues tucked away in the corners of the palace. These were human creations, stolen from the outside world and brought to Hether Blether.

  “Eat,” Domnall urged me.

  For a moment, I considered the idea that this might be a trap of some sort. Maybe the food was poisoned so Domnall could get rid of us easily. But he ate the same food we did and when he took a bite without falling over dead, I figured it must have been safe. For now.

  “I trust you are enjoying your stay in Hether Blether,” Domnall said. “Your suite is suitable for your needs?”

  “Yes,” Josh said. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Where is Callum?” I asked.

  Domnall’s expression tightened, but he said, “Callum is still under guard. He is well, I assure you.”

  “I’d like to see that for myself,” I said.

  Josh glared across the table, but I wouldn’t back down on this. I’d barely thought about Callum since finding my mama. All of my thoughts had been consumed with worrying about her, and I felt guilty for not checking in on Callum since we’d left him in that room three days ag
o. I hated to think of him sitting alone, with the barest slit of a window to see outside.

  Domnall wiped his mouth with a gray cloth napkin. “I do not think you are in any situation to make demands. You are a stranger here, and in case you had not yet noticed, I make the rules on this island.”

  “Where I come from, people are free to do what they want,” I said.

  Domnall’s eyes flashed. “And where exactly is it you come from?”

  Josh cleared his throat. “We are concerned about Callum. He has been a good friend to us, and he helped us find our way here. We want to know that he really is okay.”

  “Callum is being tended to as is the custom of our laws toward criminals,” Domnall said. “He is currently awaiting judgment for this latest offense of breaking his banishment.”

  “He only did that for us,” I said. “He never wanted to come here.”

  Domnall’s mouth tightened into a thin line. “And he very well should have kept to that desire. He was found guilty of treason and murder, he is lucky he was not put to death five years ago. But we finfolk do not kill our own. He was given the harshest sentence we could—banishment from our island. He is the one who chose to break that sentence, and now he will face the consequences.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Keep him locked away for the rest of his life?”

  “I have not decided my judgment yet,” Domnall said. He pushed his food around on his plate, frowning toward the table. “Perhaps I might be persuaded to go lightly on him...”

  Josh raised an eyebrow. “How?”

  Domnall stared at me, the lines in his face deepening. “Tell me where you come from and I will release your friend.”

  “Let me see Callum.” I gripped the ornate silver fork in my fist to keep myself from trembling. I had no intention of telling Domnall anything, but I knew I had to play his game. Josh and I held a bargaining chip, and we needed to keep that power for as long as possible.

  Domnall’s gaze didn’t flicker from mine for a long moment. Finally he nodded. “Very well, you may see him.”