Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  The Scepter! Smoke poured from the ship’s hull where Damien’s broadside had taken out her guns. Her mainmast fell in a heap of spikes and netting. Her crew lined the railing awaiting their fate. Perdita’s heart sank to the seabed.

  Had Savion come for her? Nay. He couldn’t have known where she was. Had he sensed her distress? Why wasn’t he winning as he always did?

  She couldn’t leave him. She wouldn’t leave him at the mercy of that monster.

  Shouts from the White Crypt indicated they’d discovered her missing. Damien’s angry cursing confirmed it as he slugged one man across the jaw and marched toward the railing. Grabbing his scope, he scanned the seas. On the other side of his ship, sharpshooters sped to the top while culverins were being loaded to attack Savion and his men. Both would do more damage to humans than the ship.

  She couldn’t allow that.

  There wasn’t much she could do to stop Damien save distracting him. If she could keep his focus on her rather than blowing Savion from the water, maybe that would buy Savion some time.

  Diving, she hurried back into the inlet. The seabed rose rapidly until she had but ten yards of water in which to maneuver. Positioning herself between Damien’s ship and an outcropping of rocky cliffs, she popped her head above water and shouted, “Damien! I’ve escaped you yet again!”

  Damien lowered his scope and gaped at her, jaw dropped.

  Just as she expected, he ordered a boat lowered and filled it with men. Two boats, in fact—one headed for shore and the other one Damien climbed into before it started in her direction.

  She spun, headed toward the cliffs, and squeezed between two rock walls. Several narrow pathways between rocks and boulders spread out in all directions. Good. She dove and found the underwater passages widened and opened into deep pools. She could easily lose Damien’s men in here, and then dive beneath the water whenever she wished to avoid them.

  This would keep him occupied for hours—enough time for Savion to slip away. Afterward, she would find an outlet and escape out to sea. Yet, after Perdita explored several narrow passages, she found they were all dead ends. Even beneath the water there was no opening through which she could leave. Finally, swimming down one final shaft, she entered a cave that was half underwater, half above, just like her home. Surely there was a way out. But after close examination, naught but rock surrounded her.

  She was trapped.

  Chapter 27

  “Have they forgotten about us?” Petrok asked, brandishing his sword as if he could slice the incoming cannon balls in half.

  “Unlikely.” Savion stared in confusion. The men who were preparing to fire upon them from the White Crypt had suddenly stopped and rushed over to the opposite side of the ship, while Damien marched across the deck, huffing and puffing like a smokestack.

  “Verrad’s dead.” Haddeus’s tortured voice turned Savion about to see that the doctor’s hands, face, and clothes were stained with blood, his eyes numb with horror.

  Savion gasped. “How?”

  “He was on the gun deck when that last broadside hit. Shot got him right in the gut. Ripped him in two.”

  Petrok sank back to lean on the railing, his breath coming hard. Hona groaned and spun to face the sea.

  Sorrow clamped Savion’s heart. “Anyone else injured?”

  “Just him, Captain.”

  Visions of Verrad flooded Savion’s mind: sharing meals amid laughter and singing, fighting Malum hoards side by side, late-night chats when neither could sleep. Emotion burned in Savion’s throat both at his death and his betrayal. “Wrap what’s left of him in sail cloth. We’ll bury him later.”

  “Isn’t that Perdita?” Hona’s shocked voice instantly brought Savion around.

  Savion grabbed the scope and lifted it to his eye. There, beyond Damien’s ship, a woman clung to a boulder before an outcropping of jagged cliffs, waving. Waving? Black hair spiraled over her chest in streams of ink. Perdita! What was she doing? She must have escaped from Damien’s ship. But why in the name of Erden wasn’t she hiding?

  “By all the powers that be, it’s her!” Petrok exclaimed.

  “What is she doing?” Hona squinted to see her.

  Movement caught Savion’s eye, and he shifted the scope to see two boats leave the White Crypt—one headed for shore, the other toward Perdita. He focused on the second boat, and Damien’s stern, angry face came into view.

  “Vak! He’s going after her!” Savion slammed the scope shut and punched the railing.

  Petrok grabbed his shoulder. “She lured them toward her to save us, Captain.”

  Shock and realization filtered over Savion, stunned at the woman’s selfless act to save them.

  “She disappeared into the rock cliff!” Hona exclaimed.

  Savion whipped around to see the sharpshooters idle in the White Crypt’s tops and the remaining men leaning haphazardly against railings, chatting excitedly amongst themselves.

  “Seems we have a moment’s reprieve!” He turned to Petrok. “Check on the progress below and assign more men to pump out the water, then”—Savion glanced across the pile of broken yards, tackles, and rope—“clean up this mess, fix the foresail, and make sure the rest of the lines are taut and secure. I want every able man set to task. Let’s take advantage of this gift from King Abbas.”

  Savion found Nuto at the stern managing the repair of one of their swivel guns.

  “Nuto,” Savion shouted, bringing the man’s gaze to his. “How many of those charges do you have left?”

  “Ten, Captain.”

  “Get them.”

  With a nod, Nuto darted across the deck and dropped below.

  “Hona, ready your musket and climb to the tops.”

  Petrok rubbed his chin. “What are you thinking, Captain?”

  Savion smiled and glanced at the White Crypt. “I’m going to destroy our enemy and rescue Perdita, what else?”

  Petrok shook his head, though a smile appeared on his lips.

  Moments later, Nuto reluctantly handed Savion the oilskin sack containing the ten charges. “It’s a fool’s errand—you’ll be killed for sure.”

  Tying the sack around his neck, Savion flipped it onto his back, then grabbed Nuto’s shoulder. “Ever the optimist, Nuto.” He swung a leg over the railing and grinned at his men who were hovering around him, keeping him out of sight. Not just his men—his friends.

  “For once I agree with Nuto, Captain,” Petrok said. “The woman has been nothing but trouble. Let’s patch the ship as best we can and slip away before Damien returns to finish us off.”

  Hona approached, musket loaded and ready, and a pouch of gunpowder hanging from his belt. Suddenly he looked so young, so innocent. But the man was the best sharpshooter Savion had. “What say you, Hona? Do you think me a fool as well?”

  “I know you must do this, Captain. But I fear for you like the others.”

  “I will return. I promise.” Savion nodded and slipped over the side, the warm water lulling him to believe his own words—even though the mission ahead was the most risky he’d ever attempted. For one thing, the unstable charges on his back could blow at any minute. Even now as he swam deeply to avoid detection, he felt them shift across his back. Or they could explode when he positioned them on the White Crypt’s hull before Hona had a chance to set them off with his musket shot.

  Then there was Perdita. Finding her in the middle of what he assumed to be dark caverns and passageways, all while Damien and his men—armed to the teeth—searched for her as well seemed impossible. How would Savion avoid detection? Would he get there in time? And if he did manage to find her, how would he bring her out without getting them both killed? So many questions, so many unknowns. Impossible odds. Yet that peace—that marvelous, abiding peace—still burned within him like a torch on a dark night, guiding him, leading him … assuring him.

  He surfaced and gulped in air as quietly as he could. The White Crypt rose before him like a tombstone toward a gray sky. The ste
nch of sodden wood filled his nose as creaks and groans met his ears, accompanied by a sailor’s ditty from above. Good. They hadn’t seen him. Opening his sack, he pulled out the first charge and fixed it to the hull with the fasteners. Then, gliding down the side of the ship, he carefully placed the other charges in points where he knew they’d do the most damage. He thanked his father when all were set and none had blown.

  Now to rescue Perdita. Diving back to the bottom of the bay, he swam to the edge of the rocky cliffs and surfaced behind a large boulder. As he caught his breath, he heard the crunch of feet and cursing of Damien and his men as they searched the outlying rocks for any sign of Perdita. Good, they hadn’t entered the maze of cliffs yet.

  Taking a deep breath, Savion dove and wove among boulders stuck in the seabed. Crashing waves jostled him to and fro, delaying his progress, but finally, a narrow opening in the cliff wall came into focus. He eased his face above water and tried to peer inside, but a wave shoved him through the opening, bashing him against jagged walls on either side. Blood stained the water as pain spiked through his side and back. The swell carried him into a small cave, where he gripped the edge of a rock as the water sloshed back out.

  He glanced around. No sign of Perdita. Men’s voices echoed through the maze. Damien’s crew wasn’t far behind.

  Savion dove into an opening at the edge of the cave and waded through waist-high water down a long channel. Water dripped off walls, plop-plop echoing over the rock ceiling. His bare feet landed on something sharp. More pain. More blood pinking the water. The roar of another wave warned him to hang on. A wall of foam slammed into him. He tumbled forward. Sharp rocks scraped his arms, legs, face, and back.

  The gush deposited him on a bed of sand in a narrow shaft and rushed out the way it had come. Blood seeped from multiple gashes. His head hurt. He spat salt and blood from his mouth and glanced around, gasping for breath. If he didn’t find Perdita soon, nothing but scraps of flesh would be left to mark his attempt to save her.

  He no longer heard voices. No doubt Damien and his men had assessed the danger and retreated to surround the cliffs instead. That’s what Savion would do in their shoes. But he wasn’t in their shoes. He didn’t want to hurt Perdita, to use her, to abuse her. He wanted to save her.

  Because he loved her.

  Mission or not, Perdita was not a means to an end. She was the end. He realized that now. And the more the revelation sank in, the more peace he felt, the more resolve to keep going.

  Struggling to rise, he started down the narrow channel, seeking direction from within. The medallion warmed his shivering body, guiding him, empowering him to go on despite the pain and fears racking through him. Water roared behind him. The tunnel filled with churning foam, dashing toward him, twisting and turning like steam from a dragon’s mouth, ready to swallow him whole. Heart crashing against his chest, he dove into a small opening in the cliff wall just in time before the frothing talons reached him. Scrambling backward in the water, he fell into a wide pool.

  He rose to stand in waist-high water and glanced above, where an opening in the cliff allowed streams of sunlight to pour into the small cave. A loud gasp brought him around. Perdita sat on a rock, covering her breasts with her hands, a kelp-forest of black hair falling over them, her green eyes wide with terror, her lips apart.

  He started toward her. “Perdita, thank Abbas! Where are your clothes—”

  A movement beneath the water caught his eye. The tail of some type of fish—a beautiful, multicolored luminescent tail. Mesmerized, Savion stared at it, following it up … up … up … until it melded into Perdita.

  A single tear slipped down her cheek, glistening in a ray of sunlight. Slowly it took shape and form, no longer transparent, but milky white with a hint of pink. It fell from her jaw and plopped into the water.

  A pearl.

  Chapter 28

  Perdita wished she could melt into the sea and disappear. She heard Savion gasp in horror. She heard the thump of his heart echoing through the cave, the heaving of his breath. But she could not look at him.

  “I … I can’t believe my eyes.” He heaved. “It’s true. You’re a … you’re a”—his voice faltered—”a … mermaid.” Water splashed, and Perdita looked up to see him stumbling backward. Blood slithered through the water around him from dozens of slashes marring his body.

  “You’re hurt!” She slid off the rock and swam to him. “Let me help you.”

  “Don’t come near me!” He spat.

  Those four little words speared her insides, ripping through what was left of her soul. She dove beneath the water to breathe and to hide the tears that now gushed from her eyes. As pearls dropped to the sand, she collected herself. Slowly she eased her head above the surface.

  Standing in swirling water up to his waist, Savion stared off into the cave, fury and shock hardening his expression. Still, he remained. He did not run away in horror. He did not abandon her. And that alone gave her hope.

  She cringed at the deep cuts she saw through his torn clothing. “I can help you. I can heal your wounds, Savion.”

  She waited, her heart braced for his rejection.

  He mumbled, “I thought there were no … no … mer—”

  “I’m the only one.”

  Waves slammed against the outside of the cliffs. Or was it thunder?

  “It was you.” He faced her, shock and realization blinking from his eyes. “You were the one who saved me. When I fell overboard during that storm a month ago. You left me on that island.” He rubbed his temples. “I remembered you … in my dreams. I thought I only imagined …”

  “I have saved many sailors from the sea.”

  He continued staring at her. Rushing water roared outside the narrow entrance. A foamy swell pushed up behind him, but he braced himself against the rocky edge. “Of course. That’s what Damien wants with you. He hopes to use you for gain.”

  The water rushed back out as a spear of sunlight landed on him from above, glittering through his hair and casting him in a golden glow, confirming to Perdita that he did not belong among the evil in Erden—that he did not belong with her.

  But then the light was gone, swallowed up by a dark cloud.

  Savion placed both hands on a flat rock beside him and hauled himself up to sit. He winced, and Perdita longed to go to him, to take away his pain. Bloodied water streamed from his torn shirt and breeches. He slicked back his wet hair and took deep breaths as if making sure he was awake and not dreaming. She could almost see his mind spinning, trying to put the pieces together.

  “Why did you come for me?” she asked. “I was trying to distract them so you could escape.” She dared to swim closer.

  He looked up, studying her with concern as he used to do, but then he saw the rest of her beneath the water and snapped his eyes away. He lifted his wet shirt over his head, wincing, and tossed it to her. “Put this on.”

  She obeyed, glad for the covering, and climbed onto a rock close to him, thrilled when he didn’t shrink back. She pulled her tail from the water. His breath heightened again as his eyes drifted between her face and tail as if he still couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

  The itching began … the tingling … writhing up and down her body as scales faded and fell away and skin turned creamy and smooth. She tugged the ends of his shirt to cover her knees and then stretched out her feet and wiggled her toes.

  “See? It’s still me, Savion. I’m still Perdita.”

  But he didn’t seem convinced. Cuts lined his chest where muscles flexed as if he were preparing to either flee or do battle. Agony wrenched through her at the thought she’d never lay her head on the strength of that chest again or feel those arms barricade her in safety and love.

  “Can you change at will?” he asked.

  “Yes, but only for twenty minutes. Then I must go in the water again.”

  “But you were with me for …” He sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand.”
r />   “That was a special time. I only had a month on land.”

  His brow wrinkled. “Why a month?”

  Should she tell him? Would he understand? She hugged herself, her heart wilting, her throat clogging. She couldn’t do it.

  Yes, when she glanced back at him, his eyes clouded with unshed tears. Why? Because he’d discovered she lied to him? He’d caught her in lies before. Mayhap ’twas that he’d risked his life for naught but a mermaid—in fact, still risked his life now. Regardless, she had hurt him in so many different ways. And that bothered her most of all.

  They sat in silence. Water lapped the edge of the rocks they sat upon as another rumble of thunder shook the cave. Shadows descended and Perdita looked up. A storm arrived. One to match the tempest brewing within this tiny cave.

  She was tired of the lies. So very tired.

  “Every ten years I am allowed to spend a month on land as a human. During that time, and only during that time, I can break the curse.”

  Water beaded on his chest, sliding over wounds and dripping from the amulet hanging about his neck. It seemed to glow as if sunlight were striking it, but the sun had disappeared behind a gray mist that turned the moist walls into silver. She gulped, but he said nothing.

  “I wasn’t always like this, Savion. I used to be human.” She watched him intently as she told him the full story of Forwin and her banishment to the Ancient Seas. A myriad of emotions drifted across his face while she spoke: unbelief, anger, sorrow, despair. And finally pity.

  But she didn’t want his pity.

  She wanted his love.

  “So you expect me to believe you’ve been alive for three hundred years?”

  “’Tis the truth, whether you believe it or not. You can plainly see I’m a mermaid. Why is it so hard to believe I was cursed with immortality?”

  She lowered her eyes to the lion tattoo on his bicep. It turned to face her. Nay. It couldn’t have. She was seeing things. Perdita rubbed her eyes.

  “If that’s true”—he finally broke the silence—“then you spend decades without human companionship.”