Between the Sea and Stars

by Chantal Gadoury

  Javelin peered down at the stone in his hand, contemplating his options carefully. After a moment of nothing but the hush of the waves and the shrill cry of birds, he relented with a nod.

  “Fine, but quickly,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Lena breathed and propelled herself forward, yanking him along by the wrist.

  A low roar of thunder rippled through the skies above them. Lena tilted her chin upward, pausing long enough to marvel at the thick wreaths of hazy gray which descended from the heavens.

  Javelin’s complexion paled. This was their warning—a warning to turn back or be punished. He clamped onto Lena’s arm, urgency making a vice of his grip.

  “We have to go,” he said, flicking his gaze back and forth, “before it’s too late!”

  Small droplets of water began to fall from the sky, mesmerizing Lena. “Javelin, look!”

  “Lena!” he demanded. “Come! Before they see!” He jerked her hard, but Lena resisted, tugging out of his grasp. Javelin’s eyes pressed wide as she inched away from him.

  “I’ve come this far, Javelin,” she begged.

  “Don’t be foolish,” he hissed. “This is dangerous. It’s time to go home, before the gods turn us both to sea foam.”

  A clanging filled the air. They both whirled toward the brassy sound. Leagues from the crested shore, a ship was rocking violently, its planks stained purple and gray by the horizon.

  A surprised smile sprang over Lena’s lips. Humans.

  “No, Lena,” Javelin said sternly, reading her thoughts. “Those souls belong to the Fosse-Søfolk now.”

  “A soul should belong to no one,” Lena replied. “No one but its bearer.”

  “That’s not the way the world works. Above or below.” Javelin shook his head, exasperated. “Asger’s clan will be here soon. He’ll see you.”

  Perhaps he would. Fear pulsed and then, dissipated in Lena’s chest. The sailors were so close. She wanted to see them, just once. To know what they were like. It would only take a moment.

  She spun away from her brother and began to swim toward the ship as fast as her scaled tail could manage. Around her, the waves rose, becoming thicker and harder to swim against. Javelin’s voice scraped through the air, shouting her name over and over again.

  “Lena! Lena, come back! Lena!”

  She ignored him, gaze plastered to the nearing structure as she stroked her arms against the current. Javelin would forgive her eventually. But if she retreated now, if she surrendered, she’d never forgive herself.

  The height of the waves increased the farther she swam, nearly pulling her back down beneath the surface. The sharp contrast of air and seawater clawed painfully through her throat. Water slid over her skin as she flicked her tail harder, faster, launching her body forward.

  “Lena!” Javelin’s voice traveled the distance, riding along the developing winds. Just above, another rumble of thunder filled the sky.

  Lena stopped at the cusp of the ship’s shadow. She stared up in wonder at the massive, wooden hull. It was strange to see a ship above water, wholly intact, without coils of barnacles and coral growing upon it. A tussle of voices erupted from behind the ship’s rail, shouting commands:

  “Trim the sails!”

  “Come on lads, before the storm hits!”

  “Start throwing things over the side!”

  A third peal of thunder boomed, and water began to fall from the sky in sheets. Lena threw her gaze over her shoulder and saw Javelin’s powerful form swimming toward her, his blonde hair raked back by the rollicking ocean as he fought against the current.

  “Lena!” His voice was barely audible over the screaming winds. “Lena, we have to go back now!”

  The blue-gray hue of the sky was steadily shifting to dreary black. Lena narrowed her eyes as water splashed against her face, distorting her vision.

  Javelin reached for her, yanking her back against his chest. “Don’t be reckless, Lena!”

  Waves rolled and crashed around them, tossing them apart.

  “Say a prayer, laddies!” a voice shouted as the ship was thrust sideways. It teetered on its edge, then righted itself again. Lena watched as a mass of large wooden boxes tipped into the sea. Her brow shot up as sailors appeared along the railing, throwing cumbersome barrels overboard.

  “What are they doing?” she asked curiously, swiping the seawater from her lashes.

  Javelin shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Come on.” He began to drag her away, his fingers digging into her wrist, leaving small pink marks along her skin.

  Lena’s heart collapsed to the base of her stomach. Perhaps he was right. With a short nod, she swam to her brother’s side, just as another box tumbled into the waves.

  From the corners of her eyes, Lena saw a spark erupt from the quarterdeck. Swift red pincers clawed over the ship’s colors, turning the wind-ravaged flag to ash.

  “Fire! Men! Fire!”

  Lena watched in horror as flames pranced over the tall masts, consuming the sails. A chorus of shouts and swears filled the sky as men began flinging themselves into the punishing sea. She felt her brother sling his arm around her waist and didn’t protest as he dove beneath the waves.

  She let herself be towed along as warnings of the vengeful gods speared into her mind. This was the wrath of Poseidon. It had to be. And she was the one who had angered him. He would punish her—tear her from limb to limb, and then reduce her body to sea foam. Javelin’s question echoed in her mind.

  Doesn’t it mean that much to you?

  “Javelin!” Lena shouted as the water shook all around them. She wrapped her arms around his middle, clinging to him as he pushed downward with all of his might. The waves scooped beneath their joined bodies, resurfacing them again and again.

  “I’m sorry,” she managed to say around a sob. If only she’d listened to him sooner.

  Javelin looked back over his shoulder, whipping the bangs from his eyes with a flick of his chin. His taut muscles quivered with exhaustion.

  “The current’s too strong!” he shouted, shaking his head. “We’ll have to ride out the storm.”

  Lena blinked away a salty rush of tears as Javelin guided her further from the ship, toward slightly calmer waters. Together, they took in the sight of the fiery blaze. Lena inhaled sharply as she scanned the wreckage. Several sailors were now floating on boxes and planks of wood, some moving, some not.

  “The men,” she murmured, pressing her brow against her brother’s shoulder. “Is there nothing we can do?”

  “No.” Javelin stroked a hand over her hair. “I told you, they belong to the Fosse-Søfolk now.”

  Lena shivered. She knew it was only a matter of time before the sweet melodies of the lethal clan would rise up from the sea, luring the ship’s survivors into deep water.

  “And this . . .” Lena gestured out to the flames, the limp bodies sprawled over the lids of chests the heaving, sputtering sailors. “This is what you wish to become a part of?”

  Javelin said nothing, his brow low over the bridge of his nose. Lena watched as the churning waves fractured the center of the ship, splitting it in half. The remaining men plunged into the water, some of them with blouses ablaze.

  “Lena!”

  The familiar voice startled Lena. She turned and saw Asger glaring at her. He lurched forward, his amber gaze darting between them. “What are you two doing here? Don’t you know what will happen if you’re caught?”

  “I told her,” Javelin said urgently.

  “I wanted to see—” Lena tried to explain, but Asger shook his head.

  “Go home to your father, søstjerne.” His voice was a harsh command. Lena could feel a shudder run down the length of her tail as her eyes moved past his shoulder, toward the drowning bodies behind him. “You and I will talk of this matter later, Javelin. Get home before anyone else sees.”

  Before Lena could protest, a bright flash filled the sky, plunging toward them in the shape of a trident. The color dra
ined from her cheeks.

  “We need to listen to Asger,” Javelin said.

  “Swim, lads!” A voice shouted from the burning inferno. “She’s going to blow!”

  Alarm sprang into Asger’s eyes. He reached forward and dunked Javelin and Lena into the water

  “Go! Go now!” he commanded.

  Lena ducked away from his arm and clawed back to the surface just as a wave of flames consumed the rest of the ship. A loud explosion filled the air. Wood and debris scattered across the sky and littered the sea.

  “Lena!” Javelin shouted from underneath her. Bubbles poured over his lips. He grabbed onto her fin and hurled her sideways, heaving her beneath the blustery current as a large spike from the ship plummeted toward them. Lena clutched her throat, choking on an unexpected swallow of seawater as the waves thrust her up again.

  Javelin appeared a short distance away. He stared at her with wide, horrified eyes, then slowly dipped his gaze to the bloodied water around him. His hands trembled as he touched the long, wooden spike embedded in his stomach.

  “Javelin!” Lena screamed, flying forward and taking hold of him. His quaking body sagged against hers, too heavy. His chin plummeted to his sternum, then lifted again, rising and falling with the waves.

  Lena felt Asger’s strong hands take hold of her shoulders and push, guiding her toward the seafloor. She wrapped her arms around her brother’s neck as he gasped for air . . . for water . . . for life.

  “Javelin.” Sorrow strangled her voice. “You’re going to be alright. We’ll get you home.” Her gaze dashed to Asger, pleading for reassurance that she was right. They’d go home. They’d see their father again. But Asger only tightened his jaw.

  Lena set her mouth in a firm line and flicked her tail against the building waves which threatened to toss them back up again.

  Javelin groaned. “It’s no use Lena,” he murmured, too weak to pull away from her. “Go home. Go.”

  “I can’t leave you!” Lena shouted as helpless tears began to build in her eyes. “Father will know what to do. We just have to get you back to the cavern.”

  “No,” Javelin grunted. His eyes rolled back in his skull, then refocused, empty and dull. He tried to break free of her hold, but Lena dug her fingernails into his skin.

  “Stop that,” she commanded. “We’re going home. Together.”

  They rocked upward on a tumultuous swell. Lena clamped onto Javelin’s arm and dove again, pushing her fins faster and harder than she’d ever done before, but it was no use. Over and over, the ocean rejected her.

  Asger grabbed her elbow, shoveling through the water with his considerable strength. Lena squeezed her eyes shut as the force of the sea finally broke and the three of them plummeted toward the ocean floor.

  Jagged rocks and rough fields of coral appeared beneath them. Lena curled her tail to her chest, bracing herself for impact. Asger clutched her to his side and roped his other arm around Javelin’s waist, jerking them backward moments before they crashed into the seafloor.

  Around them, the scarlet water swirled and then settled. Lena lowered her brother to a large boulder as splintered pieces of debris descended to the sand. Her whole body shook as she assessed him.

  “What do I do?” she whimpered, glancing at Asger. He shook his head sadly.

  “There’s nothing to be done, søstjerne,” he replied, sighing heavily. Lena balked. A wail surged up from the depths of her, but she suppressed it.

  “I’ll go get help,” she decided. “I’ll find someone . . .”

  Javelin’s fingers reached limply for her hand.

  “There’s . . . n-no . . . use . . .” he said softly, barely managing the words.

  “Javelin,” Lena whispered. Tears streamed from her amethyst eyes. “I should have listened to you. We should have left sooner.”

  “It doesn’t matter now.” Javelin’s knuckles blanched white. “You have to . . . go home . . .” His pain-filled eyes shifted to her shoulder, searching for Asger. “Brother,” he murmured, “Take her home.”

  “I can’t go home! I can’t ever go home . . . not without you.”

  Javelin’s body curled in agony. He coughed, and a wash of blood poured over his ruby-red lips.

  “Lena.” He gripped her hand weakly, and gazed up at her with pale, lightless eyes. His chest shuddered as he drew in his final breath, and then, he went still. Lena watched as her brother’s body began to dissolve and disappear into the sea.

  “No! Javelin!” she cried, clinging to the solid parts of him. His hand dissolved in her fingers, and she screamed. She strapped her arms around his chest and felt the weight of his body evaporate. The spike toppled free, leaving a crimson smear as it scraped over the face of the boulder. She clutched his cheeks, squeezing the tears from her eyes, wanting to see him clearly before the sea washed his foamy features away.

  Her hands fell together as his face vanished between them.

  Beneath her, there was nothing left but the spike, its pointed, bloody end embedded in sand.

  8

  Lena remained frozen in place as tears slid from her eyes and disappeared into the surrounding seawater. Her fingers grazed the spot where Javelin had been, her nails scraping against the boulder. There was nothing left of him, not even a single strand of blonde hair.

  He was dead. Her brother . . . her brother was dead. How would she tell her father what had happened? What she’d done?

  She couldn’t, she realized. This was her fault. She’d broken the law of the sea, had ignored the merciful warning of the gods. Poseidon’s wrath would follow her to the cavern, to Carrick.

  She could never return home. Lena watched as Asger plucked up the opal stone which had settled beside the wooden spike.

  “You have to leave, Lena.” His words were nearly a whisper. “You can’t stay here.” He shifted his fire-like eyes to her, then dropped his gaze to the opal in his hand. “You broke the law of the merrow, of the Fosse-Søfolk. You have to leave now while you still have the chance.”

  Lena felt her breath catch in her throat as his meaning became clear. She was a fugitive of the sea, but perhaps Javelin’s stone would allow her to escape to the shore. She reached for it, but a familiar, croaking voice startled her away.

  “Don’t be foolish, kaereste.”

  Lena dashed her tear-filled eyes to the shadows, where the old merrow woman lurked just beyond a heap of fallen debris.

  “You…”

  The merrow’s thin lips tilted into a misshapen smile. Her round eyes bulged out of their sockets as she crept closer. “The god’s stone won’t save you, but that shell around your neck will.”

  Lena lifted her trembling fingers to her necklace and cupped the pink conch—the last gift Javelin would ever give her. She glanced at Asger, whose brow was tightly stitched with suspicion.

  The merrow woman continued, “The queen has heard your calling.”

  “The queen?” The words shivered from Lena’s lips.

  “You wear her conch now . . .”

  Asger’s voice interceded. “You’re a babbling old woman.”

  The merrow raised an amused brow. “Poseidon let Mette’s story spread through the sea like a poison, so no merrow would ever be tempted to join the human world. But you’re not like the other merrows, are you?” She jabbed Lena’s chest. “Your blood sings to the skies above. It sings to the sun and the shore because you belong there.”

  “This is nonsense,” Asger growled.

  Lena slid back, flipping her quivering fins away from the both of them.

  “You belong to the land, just as you are a part of the sea. Haven’t you always wanted to walk among the humans, kaereste?” The merrow woman lurched forward with stunning quickness and snatched up the conch, her eyes unnaturally bright. “This shell is the key,” she insisted.

  “Don’t listen to her, Lena,” Asger rumbled. “Take the stone. At least with this, you’ll have a chance of surviving ashore.”

  Lena hesitated. Besi
de her, the merrow woman hissed and bared her teeth, then lifted her lips into a crooked smile.

  “She cannot fool the gods with that pebble,” she sneered. “This is the shell of legends. It gave Queen Mette the legs she so desired.” She slid her gaze back to Lena. “Its power helped your mother once, too.”

  “My mother?”

  The merrow woman nodded, her eyes aglow. “It will give you what you wish, kaereste. But you must leave now, before it’s too late.”

  Lena felt a shudder roll down the length of her spine as she looked between the two of them. Was the merrow woman speaking the truth?

  “How does it work?” she asked quietly.

  A ripple of pleasure ruffled the merrow’s silver tail. Her mouth peeled back in a yellow-toothed grin as she raised her frail fingers toward the surface.

  “Go to the shore and wait for nightfall,” she murmured. “Allow the sea to wash over your fins. Prick your skin with the conch and let your blood drip upon your tail. Mette will know your plea, and her spirit will help you.”

  “What about my father?” Lena peered at Asger, desperation emanating from her eyes.

  Asger drifted forward, the markings on his skin gleaming against the red haze of the bloodied sea. “I’ll watch over him, søstjerne,” he promised. “I will do what I can to protect him.”

  He took her hand in his.

  The merrow woman latched onto Lena’s elbow, yanking them apart.

  “You must go, kaereste,” she snarled. “If his people find you here, the king and the sea god will not be so kind to you. They will not show the same mercy bestowed upon your brother. Such a quick death. But you . . . oh no, you will suffer.”

  Her words quaked through Lena’s body. Asger jerked his head in a nod.

  “She’s right,” he relented, curling the opal stone into his palm. “If the shell doesn’t work . . .” Uncertainty creased his face. He clenched his jaw. “At least this way, death will be swift.”

  Lena swallowed.