“Do you know what we do to people who kill merfolk?” Imeld said, sliding a finger along her sharp, thin blade with grim delight. “We slice their skins off, piece by piece, and drag them through a school of little sharks and baby barracuda. For you, Aisa, I have much worse in mind. You made a mistake when you tried to cross my ocean.”
“Your ocean?” Aisa said. “You are not—”
“Queen?” Imeld finished. “But I am. You infected the elder members of our clan with the power of the shape and killed them. It left me queen. Or did you not think of that when you killed my Ynara?”
“I did not want to kill Ynara,” Aisa said with a note of pleading in her voice that half broke Danr’s heart. “On so many nights, the guilt has wakened me and stopped my breath. If I had known the power of the shape would do that, I would never have brought it to you. I would have killed myself first.”
“We will help,” said Imeld.
The other merfolk made a hissing sound. Their own weapons glinted in the sun, seeming to slice the light itself. The sailors reached for weapons of their own, but Danr was all too aware that all the merfolk had to do was dive overboard and start sawing.
“My lady,” Danr said, stepping forward with his hands out, “we have a bigger matter here. The entire world is—”
Imeld threw her two-pronged spear. It thunked into the deck at Aisa’s feet and stood quivering. “This is the only matter. Defend yourself, Aisa!”
She changed into a great eel and launched herself across the deck.
*
Aisa flung herself aside just in time to dodge the eel’s snapping teeth. The borrowed cloak twisted around her legs. Imeld gathered her long coils with a great hiss. Sailors scattered in all directions. Danr stood on the deck looking stunned. Aisa had heard of shape-shifting duels in old stories but never dreamed she would take part in one. All the ones in the stories ended in the death of at least one of the participants.
Imeld lunged at Aisa again. Aisa drew on her power and snapped into the shape of a hummingbird, which zipped out of the cloak just ahead of Imeld’s teeth. Imeld changed into an osprey and flapped after her. Aisa’s tiny heart skittered within her feathered breast. She had to get away from the ship. If Imeld took on a large shape, she might sink it and kill everyone on board. The osprey screeched and picked up speed. So did Aisa, and the ship fell into the distance. Damp air penetrated Aisa’s feathers. The hummingbird shape was fast, but it was not suited to the ocean. She skimmed over the wavy surface, trying to think, and in desperation popped into the form of a sea otter and plunged into the water.
A great splash came directly above her. Imeld had changed into a shark, and she dove straight at Aisa, showing rows of pointed teeth. Her flat black eyes reflected nothing but darkness. Aisa changed into a great sea turtle and pulled in her legs and head. Imeld bit at her, but her teeth did nothing more than scratch Aisa’s shell. Imeld changed into a black-and-white killer whale large enough to bite Aisa in half and swallow her whole. Her great pink mouth opened wide. Aisa was growing tired after so many rapid shifts and she was not sure she could manage another change. Then she felt the line of magic leading from herself to Hamzu. He gave and she took. Power rushed through her, and she snapped into the first thing she could think of—another killer whale.
It was a poor choice. Imeld was already poised to bite her, and she bit hard, tearing a great piece of flesh from Aisa’s side. The pain ripped through her, and Aisa screamed in an orca’s voice.
And she remembered then Imeld’s father, Aisa’s own grandfather, speaking to her after Ynara died and Aisa fled Imeld’s anger. “If you ever need us,” he’d told her, “cry for us like the orca. Three times.”
Aisa cried again as loud as she could, and then a third time. She turned, leaving a trail of blood in the water, and rammed into Imeld, who backed away. Aisa rammed Imeld again, and Imeld screeched in pain, a sound that echoed back and forth across the sea. That was when Aisa noticed it. The sound echoed strangely, in a way she could not describe because she had never been an orca before. There was a dark spot, an empty spot, an odd silence in the middle of the return sound. Something big was coming toward them, and it was moving very, very fast.
“So this is how you want it to be?” Imeld said, and Aisa was surprised to hear speech. She did not know whether she was hearing orca speech and her mind was creating human words for it, or if Imeld was somehow speaking Kin words. It did not truly matter at this point.
“I do not,” Aisa replied in the same way. “Please, Imeld! I do not wish to—”
Imeld changed again. Her body lengthened even farther. Her snout grew longer and filled with sharp, backward-facing teeth. She grew flippers and a long, heavy tail that swept from side to side. Aisa had never seen this creature before, but it was large enough to bite any whale in half. Blood continued to run from Aisa’s side. She started to gather more power, intending to change into something small and quick.
“Either allow me to devour you,” Imeld boomed in a thunderous voice, “or I will smash that tiny ship to flinders and devour everyone aboard.”
Aisa froze. “You cannot mean this,” she whispered.
“I will count to three, and then your friends will die,” Imeld growled. “One …”
In the water behind Imeld rose a great form, easily three times bigger than Imeld herself. It was an emerald wyrm with horns on its head and crest, each as big as an oak tree. His jaws could encompass a herd of horses, and his body was so long it disappeared into the depths. Imeld was reflected in his great golden eyes. Aisa made a small sound.
“What is this, yes?” said the wyrm.
Imeld barked in alarm and whirled in the water. When she saw the great wyrm, her skin turned a pale green and a smell of urine tanged the water. Her form wavered and crumpled back into her own mermaid shape. She looked tiny and insignificant in front of the huge wyrm. Aisa realized her blowhole was leaking, and she clamped it shut.
“Do I see two Kin fighting a duel of shapes?” asked the wyrm in a slow, measured voice. “In this time and place, yes?”
Imeld tried to speak but seemed unable to form words, or even move. Aisa, who had forgotten the pain in her side, now felt it again. Swallowing hard, she reached into herself and took back her mermaid form. The pain vanished as the wound healed. Then Aisa hesitantly sipped a little more power from Hamzu, who was no doubt worried to death, and made herself grow and grow until she was four times taller than a normal mermaid. She was nowhere near as tall as she had been when she fought the harbormaster’s giant golem, but she was tall enough to get the wyrm’s attention.
“Grandfather Wyrm,” Aisa said, forcing her voice to remain steady. “This is an unexpected pleasure. I hope you remember me.”
Grandfather Wyrm moved his great golden gaze toward her, and even fourfold taller, Aisa felt small and vulnerable. She told herself she talked with Death and walked with the Fates, but it was difficult to remember such things when this wyrm turned his attention on her.
“Yes,” he said. “Of course I remember, yes. Aisa and Danr and Talfi, who came to visit me and returned my wife’s name to me and bargained the power of the shape from me, yes. Do you have more squid ink, Aisa?”
For a wild moment, Aisa considered trying to change into a giant squid and squirting some at him. “I do not, great one,” she said with real regret. “But it is … odd to see you outside the Nine Isles and the Key.”
“It is,” said Grandfather Wyrm. “I have not left the Key in many weeks, yes.”
“Your pardon, great and glorious one,” Aisa said, “but it has been more than a year since I visited you and more than a hundred years since you have been sighted outside the Key.”
“Truly?” A slightly puzzled look crossed Grandfather Wyrm’s face. “I must have fallen asleep, yes. The elf queen’s magic woke me.” His great coils swept back and forth, creating currents that pushed against Aisa and nearly swept the still-startled Imeld away. “Can you not feel it? The elves inf
ect the water. The fairies degrade the earth. The sprites poison the air. The Kin are under siege, so I have emerged from the Key to lend my aid, and what do I find? You Kin are using the power I gave you to squabble amongst yourselves while the world burns, yes.”
Aisa found herself wanting to point at Imeld, the words She started it on her lips, but she stopped herself. “We are but foolish sparks next to the bonfire of your wisdom, O great and magnificent one, and beg your forgiveness.”
“Granted, yes,” said Grandfather Wyrm. “When the Tree tips, it is always we Kin who are crushed beneath it, and we must work together to stop it.”
Imeld spoke now, and although her voice was thin and hesitant, Aisa had to admire her courage. “You … are Kin?”
Grandfather Wyrm looked hard at Imeld. “Of course. And you are merfolk Kin, yes, and queen of the ocean, and yet you are trying to kill your own family. A Kin killing your kin.”
“She brought the power of the shape that killed my daughter!” Imeld cried.
“That is a tragedy, yes,” Grandfather Wyrm said. “It is painful and harsh. A thousand years ago, I watched a man give up his own son to be murdered for magic. It sundered the continent and killed countless Kin, including my dear wife, yes. This is what happens when Kin kill Kin. Tell me, child, will sending Aisa through Death’s door make the world a better place? Will it make you a better queen?”
“It will be justice!” Imeld said.
“Justice does not always make the world better, yes,” said Grandfather Wyrm. “It is a lesson leaders need to learn.”
“Imeld!” A group of merfolk were swimming up to them, speedily but cautiously. At the forefront was an older merman Aisa recognized with gladness. His aging face and graying hair wavered in the water. It was Aisa’s grandfather Bellog, and also Imeld’s father. “Imeld! What does this mean?”
“Grandfather!” Aisa swam toward him and only barely remembering how big she was. She shrank to her normal size, and Grandfather Wyrm loomed behind her like a floating mountain. “I am happy you have come!”
“Aisa! Are you well?” Bellog embraced her with one arm. The other brandished a two-pronged spear. “We heard your call. And saw … the great one.”
Another group of merfolk, the ones from the ship, swam down from the surface and also stopped in hesitation when they saw Grandfather Wyrm.
“Be careful what you say, Bellog,” Imeld said dangerously. “Rebellion is rebellion.”
“Imeld!” said Bellog, both hurt and mystified. “I lost my dear wife to the power of the shape! Ynara’s death pains us all, but anger does not win us a thing.”
Imeld’s dark expression said she disagreed, but she shot Grandfather Wyrm an uneasy look and touched the tattoo on her face.
“Very well,” she said. “The merfolk will not stop you, Aisa. But neither will we help. And should you enter the ocean again, you had best keep your wyrm with you.”
Imeld and her entourage dove into the depths and vanished.
“My granddaughter.” Bellog opened his arms for an embrace. “I am so sorry that—”
“There is no time for petty Kin with petty problems,” Grandfather Wyrm interrupted. “Already there have been more earthquakes on the land, and there will be quakes under the ocean soon. And much has become worse. When the elf queen’s magic woke me, I saw what she was doing, yes. She has devastated the orcs of Xaron, stolen a weapon of great power, and created an army out of living blood that is unharmed by iron. Without the orcs of Xaron and the iron of Balsia to keep her at bay, the only thing that keeps her in check is the fact that her son and heir lives in Balsia. But he is already fleeing to Alfhame, yes.”
“Ranadar?” Aisa gasped. “Why is he going to Alfhame?”
“I do not know,” said Grandfather Wyrm. “But we must hurry, yes. The elf queen will move on Balsia very soon, and when she unleashes the full power of her new army, the Tree will tip and all will die. Can you not smell the rot in the water and in the air? The stronger it becomes, the more the Tree is tipping, yes. Aisa, return to your ship, and whatever merfolk wish may follow. Quickly now.”
Mystified, Aisa swam back to the ship with her grandfather and the other dozen merfolk in tow. She gathered momentum and leaped up high in the air as Imeld had done, trailing long hair behind her. Halfway up, she changed into an eagle and swooped over the deck. Hamzu, Captain Greenstone, and the sailors looked up with incredulous looks on their faces. With a high-pitched screech, Aisa dove back down to the deck and took her own form just as Bellog and the other merfolk vaulted out of the ocean to land on the gunwale. The sailors tensed. Hamzu dropped a cloak over Aisa’s nakedness and pulled her into an embrace.
“You’re all right!” he breathed in her ear. “I mean, I felt you take power, so I knew you must be alive, but then it stopped, and I didn’t know for sure.”
“I am well,” Aisa said. “These merfolk are friends.”
Greenstone said, “Is Imeld … ?”
“She lives,” Aisa said. “But there is more.”
With a great wash of water, Grandfather Wyrm rose from the ocean beside the ship. Seawater poured down his sides and foamed off his massive jaws. Now the sailors panicked. They rushed about the deck, grabbing at any weapon they could find but not sure how to use them.
“Calm!” Aisa called. “Calm now! He is also a friend.”
“Grandfather Wyrm?” Hamzu strode to the edge and grabbed the rail. “What brings you here?”
“You know this … person?” Greenstone gasped. “Halza’s tits! I’ll never make fun of you again.”
“There is little time to explain, yes,” said Grandfather Wyrm. “Bring the sails down, Captain.”
Greenstone looked flustered for the first time since Aisa had met her. “The sails? Why should be bring down the—”
“Now!” boomed Grandfather Wyrm.
“Harebones!” Greenstone bellowed. “Get those sails down!”
The sailors scurried about like ants beneath Grandfather Wyrm’s stern gaze while the merfolk watched with interest. Aisa quickly explained to Hamzu and Greenstone what had happened beneath the water, and then it occurred to her that Danr had never met Bellog, so she dragged him over to the rail for introductions.
“So I am to be a great-grandfather now,” Bellog said. “We Kin are mingling more and more blood these days, it seems.”
“The Nine People are coming together,” Hamzu said. “Aisa thinks we used to be one people, but the power of the shape changed us until we forgot who we were.”
“An interesting idea,” mused Bellog. “Perhaps Imeld should listen to it.”
“Hang on to something, yes,” Grandfather Wyrm bellowed.
They all clutched a rope or a rail. Grandfather Wyrm swam around behind the Slippery Fish and disappeared beneath the gentle waves. A moment later, there was a bump, followed by a soft crunch, and the Fish jolted forward. Aisa would have fallen overboard if not for the rope she was clutching. The ship rushed forward, picking up speed and plowing up an impressive white trough behind. It went faster, faster, and faster still, outracing seabirds, the wind, even the sky itself. The sailors whooped at the wonder of it.
“He’s pushing us!” Hamzu shouted. “The Nine! He’s pushing us!”
“What was that crunching noise?” Greenstone asked, looking worriedly over the side and nearly losing her hat.
Aisa turned her face to the salt breeze as the ship sped toward the horizon.
Chapter Eighteen
The second bronze-headed arrow caught the rabbit’s heart, and it was dead before it hit the ground. Talfi lowered his bow and gave Ranadar a look.
“Fing!” he said. “You still owe me a favor from the first time, you know.”
Ranadar sighed from inside his hood. His own arrow was stuck in the ground half a pace away from the dead rabbit. “This was not a contest.”
“It was to the rabbit.” Talfi trotted over to retrieve the rabbit and both arrows. Already the sun was close to setting, and the
mosquitoes were coming out. The forest of Alfhame lay close and heavy about them—tall, wide trees covered in moss at the base and scraggly undergrowth between. Direct sunlight was sporadic, and it occurred to Talfi that this place would suit Danr nicely. Thinking about that was better than thinking about the fact that he was heading straight into the arms of the elf queen. He couldn’t die—so far—but his final days were linked to Ranadar’s, and what would happen if Ranadar was killed? Would Talfi die, too, or would he live half of the days Ranadar was originally supposed to live? He didn’t like thinking about that, either. Maybe he should have offered to clean the rabbit—it would have taken his mind off everything.
Back at the place they had designated as tonight’s camp, Other Talfi was piling deadwood for a fire. No one in Alfhame chopped from a living tree, even—or perhaps especially—a prince of the Fae.
“Supper,” Talfi said without preamble.
“Fire,” said Other Talfi, setting to work with a scrap of flint and steel.
The earth rumbled beneath their feet. Fear jerked Talfi’s heart into his throat. The chimney was cracking and dropping tons of rock on him again. He felt his bones shatter as birds took to the air in great clouds. Ranadar tackled Talfi and brought him to the ground, jerking him out of the past. Other Talfi dropped beside them. All around them the trees waved as if in a storm. The ground moved like a living thing. A few paces away, a tree crashed to the ground. Talfi heard a scream and realized it was his own. The fire went out.
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