Submerged_a mermaid tale

by Pauline Creeden

  My excitement is short-lived. I've grown even more tired since expending my energy going through the tunnel. I sink to the floor and lay down, remembering that first time. Brandeeb found me back then. I don't know whether he saw me enter the tunnel in the first place or if he followed the blood left behind from the scratches he inflicted on me that day. I sigh, content that no one is coming now. I settle into the black sand and create a nesting for myself.

  It isn't long before I fell into a deep sleep.

  I WAKE WITH A START, and for a moment I don't know where I am. That's the problem with sleeping in a cave; the sun isn’t visible, so there’s no way to tell what time it is. The quiet solitude of this fortress surrounding me is something I am loathing to leave. My mother will probably call me a troublemaker again. Or maybe she'll call me something worse. In her mind, I'm nothing more than a problem child. Brandeeb never got into trouble that I can ever remember. Certainly, not like I always do.

  After a deep breath, I start for the exit of the tunnel, the one black spot in the wall covered in bioluminescence. When I break free from the tunnel, I find it is still dark outside. My night vision is keen, but I swim to the surface to take a look at the stars. I suck in a lungful of seawater and break through the barrier from water to air. I hold my breath for a good long time, watching the lights sparkle to the west. Humans. Cities and towns, houses and countryside. Lights brighter than the stars themselves and almost as numerous in their cluster. The stars overhead help guide me, so I know which direction is southeast, and then I sink back under the waves and start there.

  I use no water magic to help me this time. There's no need to hurry, no need to tire myself out in a rush. It makes no difference whether I arrive in an hour or three. Either way, I'm going to be scolded.

  My stomach growls. A pod of dolphins swims nearby, and they’re heading in the same direction, so I join them. Their language is not foreign to Mer. But typically, they chatter so much, we don't know everything that’s said. The dolphins swim along in formation until they come across a school of mackerel. Then they split up and surround the mackerel, causing the school of fish to pull in tighter. One at a time, the bottlenose dolphins dive through the center of the school capturing two or three fish that they swallow whole. Their hunting method reminds me of what Gabriel had done a few days ago, but the difference was the way the dolphins corral the fish in a tightly kept group. The fish continue to panic just like the tuna had, but instead of separating and fleeing, they stay together and refuse to leave the pod. One straggler mackerel comes too close to me, and I reach forward and grab it with a claw. I rip through it between my claws and teeth until I eat my fill.

  When the pod of dolphins head north, I separate from them. I continue south with the zenith of the sun overhead warming my back. When I finally reach the Bermuda township, I find the other Mer in a state of excitement. Drama. Too much for me right now. I don't really want to be in the midst of so much noise, so I turned toward the convalescing cove. As I reach the cove, I find Stacia with her back turned toward me beside Gabriel's nesting. Still, my eyes are drawn toward the nesting across from Gabriel where Verona's father still lays. Even though I watch the older man's nesting, I head directly for Stacia and Gabriel.

  Stacia turns when she feels the current of my presence. Her brown eyes meet mine, wide and excited. “Have you heard?”

  I frown. “Heard what?”

  “The bottom feeder has been chosen. Their reckoning begins tomorrow.” Her excitement mirrors that of the Mer I'd seen in the township gathering. She bounces up and down against the sand, clapping her hands.

  My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. “Do you know who was chosen?”

  She shakes her head and lifts a shoulder and a half-shrug. “Does it matter?”

  I bite my bottom lip hard enough that my eyes sting. I want to say, “Yes of course it matters.” It feels as though someone is ringing my heart dry. Was it possible that I was found out? My mother had made it obvious that a lot of people knew about my involvement in Gabriel's injury. There was the father who glared at me during the hunt yesterday. If everyone knows about my involvement, it is possible that they looked into my usefulness to the clan, whether I am ruled by my emotions, or even my test scores in the schooling. I am as good a candidate as any other to be the bottom feeder that would be chosen to go on a reckoning. Once every four years, our clan has to choose a bottom feeder for the reckoning. The other three clans in the Atlantic Ocean chose their bottom feeder at the same time of year once every four years as well so that there is a new bottom feeder chosen each year.

  Who else could have been chosen? My mind cannot come up with any other names or faces. It is completely blank. Across the way, the man lying on the bed says a single name, “Verona.”

  Chapter 6

  “No, it can't be,” I whisper, my muscles tensing, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

  “Huh?” Stacia asks. “What did you say?”

  My eyes remain fixed on the old man staring off into the distance. I don't look at Stacia even though she asks me again what I had said. I can hardly hear her. She sounds as though her voice is far away and getting farther. The edges of my vision darken. It is unfair. Over the past few days, Verona has done nothing but try to help. She helped when Gabriel needed it. She helped when the little youngling with the hook had needed it. She helped when she didn't have to, and now she will pay the price.

  If the bottom feeder is not me, it is Verona for sure.

  I must find her.

  Without a word, or even a glance in Stacia’s direction, I dart in the same way the old man was peering. Had she gone this way? How will I find her? I don't know where she lives, and I have no idea where she went when she wasn't at schooling. Besides all that, what will I do when I find her? If I help her in any way, I will be declared a bottom feeder as well and sent to exile too.

  But reason is overcome by my emotions. I truly am a bottom feeder. Mer life is more about being ruled by logic than emotions. Reason is the most prized of morals. And here I am panicking. Blindly, I run again until I pull to a stop by the reef where we conduct our schooling. No one is there, which is unsurprising. I settle in the sand, thinking. Which direction does Verona come from when she arrives at schooling? I can't remember. All I can see in my mind is Verona sitting in the sand in front of me. Like she always does. And then it occurs to me that she always arrives at the schooling before I do. This is no use.

  I hop up and head the opposite direction of the way I normally come, in hopes that I can find some clue, some sign, of where she might be. Instead, I run into my mother. Her glare stops me in my tracks.

  My mother's jaw tightens, the wrinkles in her forehead deepen. Then, she begins, hissing between her teeth at a low volume, so the other Mer around her can’t hear her, “Where have you been? It is after zenith, and you've been gone all night.”

  My muscles twitch. I feel as though a fisherman's hook has just caught me by the underarm. I want to escape, and struggle against it, but I know struggling will only make it worse. Besides, the hook can't be removed, because it is my mother. I frown and let my gaze drop to the seafloor. I chew my lip trying to think of how I'm going to answer. But the words fail me.

  Her claws wrap around my upper arm and squeezed so that the tips of her nails dig into my skin without breaking it. Her lips draw close to my ear and she hisses again, “No matter. But I do not want you out of my sight until after zenith tomorrow, understood?”

  My heart races in my chest, and my stomach churns. Reason finally catches up with me. Where was I going? What am I going to do? I have no plan, and I have no idea where I am going to find Verona in the first place. Even if I find her, what would I do? Warn her? Help her? Run away with her?

  My mother settles into the sand next to her friends, and I do the same, behind and slightly to the side of her—where she directs me. The waters around me feel cold, and my skin gains raised gooseflesh. The maidens chatter about
this and that, occasionally bringing up the reckoning that would happen tomorrow.

  Eventually, an Elder’s court life-mate leans in conspiratorially. “I’m not allowed to tell you who the bottom feeder shall be, but I will say that it is a Mer who has stepped on many toes and has often shown their inability to respect their station in life.”

  I frown hearing this but continue to keep my gaze focused on the ground so I avoid glaring at her.

  “Like how?” my mother asks, leaning in as well.

  The maidens are keeping their voices low, but I do not need to strain my ear to hear them from my position.

  “They are responsible for the Elder’s son, Gabriel,” she seethes through clenched teeth, still being careful to not reveal the gender of the bottom feeder. “And they dared lay hands on the child of another of our court ladies.”

  One of the other maidens gasps. With those hints, it has now become obvious who the bottom feeder is without naming names. My frown deepens and my heart races. I clench my hands into fists trying to keep myself restrained and doing what my mother has commanded. But my stomach flips, and I suddenly feel nauseated. My muscles tense like a coiled spring.

  The maidens laugh, and the sound of their voices rings in my ear. I can take it no longer. I leap up. My mother’s glare pierces me and cuts straight through to my heart. But I just bow my head apologetically and dart off.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Bailey! Get back here this instant!”

  I ignore her calls, even though she continues. I’ve made a fool of my mother in front of her friends, and it won’t be an easy task to get her to forgive me. But the weight upon my shoulders has lightened, and my stomach unknots. For the first time, I feel like I’m doing something for myself instead of for someone else. And in this moment, I’m free.

  I CAN’T FIND VERONA, no matter where I look. But I try to look at this as a positive thing. Maybe if I can’t find her, the Elder’s guard won’t be able to find her, either. If they can’t find her, they cannot send her on her reckoning tomorrow as they plan.

  Then what would happen?

  Would they choose another bottom feeder? Who would they choose on such short notice? The only name that comes to my mind this time is my own. I shake it off. Part of me would gladly bare the scars of the bottom feeder if it would keep her from enduring them. But the other part of me is a coward and has no intention of doing it. In my despair, I check all the places I’ve been to once more to find her.

  And then I spot her, sitting with her father at the convalescing cove. I start toward her, slowly, unsure of what I will say to her, or how I will help her, when three of the Elder’s guard rush past me with spears. I dart forward just as they grab her by the arms and yank her up from the sand.

  “By order of the Elder, you’ll need to come with us,” one of them declares in a deep voice. His hair is brown with more patina than I’d seen of any Mer younger than forty years. His broad chest is more muscular than mine or Brandeeb’s.

  Verona doesn’t say a word, doesn’t resist, doesn’t even raise her gaze up from the sand. I frown, and come to a stop next to them, reaching out a hand, still unsure what to say.

  “Stop,” a voice hisses in my ear, and a hand yanks my arm down to my side. Stacia glares at me, her red hair swirling about her face. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  I just stare at her a moment. My heart slowing, and sorrow wells up in my chest. When did I become so fully ruled by my emotions like this? I don’t remember ever letting my feelings get in the way of my reason. But when I glance back toward Verona and the guards, they have already left the cove and started away.

  I yank my arm from Stacia’s grip, causing another bead of blood to bubble from the superficial wound left by her claw on my skin.

  “Enough!” I glare at her, allowing all the hatred and anger I feel for her and her brother to finally reach the surface. “Do not misunderstand me or my intentions. I am not your toy or your brother. You have no power over me, and cannot order me around.”

  She blinks twice, her jaw dropping. “What?”

  “Do not place yourself in a position to rule me. I am no puppet.” My voice drips with the anger I’ve felt for over a decade, and I slip toward her, and peer down at her. Her expression goes from shock to a momentary twinge of fear.

  “B-but we’re promised life-mates. Our parents have been in talks for a long t-time,” she stammers.

  I shake my head. “Even so, no Mer is forced to marry against his will. And I choose not to take you as my life-mate.”

  Her eyes narrow on me, the fire in them sparking. “How dare you? You? Reject me? I am the daughter of the Elder of the Bermuda Township.” She steps into me, taking the claw of her forefinger and pressing it into the skin of my chest.

  I lean into her instead of away as I did when she behaved this way in the past. She blinks again, the fire within before falters. “And I have a choice. I still choose no.”

  She wavers, the shock of the moment slapping her in the face. Her eyes roll back, and she begins to sink to the ocean floor. Fainting, or pretending to, it doesn’t matter to me. I swam away from her prone body and start toward the exit of the cove.

  “Good for you, Bailey,” Gabriel says from his nesting with a half-laugh. “About time.”

  The waters around me have darken with the clouds which cover the sun. It’s hard to tell what time of day it is, but it must be nearing sunset. The freedom I’d felt when I left my mother doubled now that I’ve told Stacia how I felt for the first time.

  Did Gabriel know all the while? I don’t even glance back to find out. Instead, I head in the direction the guards have taken Verona. But I pull up when I am still some distance off. The guards stop when they reach the Elder’s reef. There, she would stay with the Elder, have a decent meal, sleep in a respectable nesting, then receive her marks and get sent on her reckoning in the morning.

  All very civilized. All very barbaric.

  The tradition has been utilized for centuries by the Mer clans. In schooling, we learn it’s so the Mer culture can stay in tune with the humans and blend in better. Some Mer have proxies on land available for them to have money and a place to live if they should ever decide to spend time as a Landwalker. Bottom feeders never do. It’s an experiment. A cruel social experiment used to teach us about the classes, races, and human interactions.

  I shake my head. Useless. Who would ever go on land purposefully, anyway? What about Verona? Would she choose to go on land? The elders set the post for the reckoning halfway between Bermuda and the mainland of the United States.

  It’s the Mer’s choice whether she will attempt the swim through the shallows to Bermuda, where learning and land are limited, or brave the deep and go to the United States.

  A memory sparks. Before Verona became the bottom feeder, when I thought for certain I would become the bottom feeder, Verona said something during schooling that I would never forget. Her father said that if she should ever be chosen for exile, she should remain in exile, find another way, because going on land was much more treacherous than imaginable. Back then, she’d given the warning to all the schooling, that if any of us should become bottom feeder, we should heed her father’s words.

  I cross my hands over my chest, feeling the rock-hard muscles there instead of the flabby fat that had been there when Verona first made her declaration. She’d met her eyes with mine when she said it. Even then, she knew I had been an early pick for the position. But now, everything has changed.

  If Verona wouldn’t go on land, then she’ll be slated for possible execution if she attempts to return to the clan or join another. The reckoning marks on her body would keep her from being accepted unless she also has the freckle marks gained from being on land.

  She’ll need a place to stay. She’s probably useless as a hunter, so how would she eat? My stomach begins to churn as I worry about these things. Then an idea sparks which cools my stomach like ice. I could get things ready for her. If
I help her, she’ll be sure to survive. If I’m caught, they’ll send me to exile, too. But I can limit my help and keep anyone from finding out. A smile pulls at my cheeks. I swim to the west to get things ready.

  Chapter 7

  Darkness covers the deep, but I have work to do. Most settle down for the night once it's dark, because bioluminescence and electricity are rare. We get up with the sun, and we sleep at sunset. Instead, I find myself making use of my night vision to gather the things I'm going to need. My first stop is the convalescing cove.

  In the darkness, I find Gabriel and Verona's father and their nestings but no other patients. I pass them and head deeper into the cove among the shallower waters. There I find the doctor, and I call out to him. "Hello?"

  The healer rustles in his nesting and bolts upright. He blinks a few times, a look of panic on his face. He rubs his eyes and strains to see in the dark. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you."

  He nods, and his face relaxes. His shoulders settle down as well. He squints at me in the darkness as though his night vision is not as strong as mine. "You are that Mer who keeps visiting, right?"

  Suddenly, I feel embarrassed. The blood rushes to my face, and I'm not sure what I'm doing here anymore. My heart races as I try to figure out what I am going to tell the doctor. Why am I here? Then, I realize that I truly need the object I'm looking for, if I am to help Verona tomorrow. "I am sorry to disturb you, but I need something. Do you have any ointment which can help wounds heal faster?"

  The healer looks at me strangely. He quirks an eyebrow and rests his hand on his chin for a moment before speaking. The hair on his head swirls in the darkness looking like seaweed except for it's sparseness. "What do you need it for?"

  And there it is. The moment I must decide whether I will expose my plan, and possibly face rendition. Or do I live? Doctors are supposed to be impartial, right? Isn't there some rule among humans that the doctor is supposed to keep your secrets too? I shake my head. We are not human. He has no law to keep him from telling any matter what I might say. But, somehow, I feel he can be trusted. "I have a friend who will have deep injuries tomorrow. I need to get her the ointment so she will heal faster."