The healing hurt far more than the bullets which she coaxed from his body. Jager writhed in pain, whimpering.
“Don’t move,” she ordered.
Jager didn’t move again, but his fingers slid against the stone slab he lay on and his nails scraped along as the wound eventually healed. “Humans,” he panted and shifted so he could sit up. His side still throbbed with pain. “I saw them trying to test the waters; our wards held them back. One of them… I think he plans to overthrow his captain—he shot me! The bas–”
“I knew it,” she murmured, interrupting him. “We must warn the others, bring news to the king and… gather the coven. Those wards need strengthening, too.”
“Will they break?”
Oinone smiled. “Not unless they have a render with them.”
Jager’s brows lifted, and he leaned forward. “A render, as in, one who can pull apart the seams of magic?”
She nodded her head, resting her hand against his chest, and gently pushed him back. “Like nothing more than thread, yes. Lay back and rest a little longer; your body needs to catch up to the magic I wove in you.” Oinone sighed. “Did you see a render aboard?”
Confusion caused Jager’s eyes to squint. “What does a render look like?”
“No different from any other human. Sometimes they boast about what they are, and it takes some guesswork out.”
That was little to no help. Jager wondered, was that boy Taran a render, and did he plan to rip the wards apart?
“Don’t you dare think about flopping off of that slab. You stay put, I’ll go see myself. I need to call on the rest of the coven.” She turned her strange green eyes on Jager and nodded. “Even your brother has to know.”
Everything caught up with Jager; his body fell against the stone once more and his eyes slammed shut. “Mistress Oinone, there is something you must know about him. He has been reading the Volumes of Tenebris.” His eyes flicked toward his Mistress, and there, for the first time, he saw shock written across her features.
“No,” she whispered. “How long, boy? How long has he been reading it? Those aren’t ordinary words. Where did he find that tablet?” She shuddered and shook her head. “No… Perhaps it isn’t too late.”
“I don’t know how long. I don’t know where he found it.” He omitted the fact he found it three weeks ago.
“Each time he reads it a darkness unfurls; whether or not it’s spoken out loud or just in his mind, it grows. Each word, each incantation, an unraveling of our light.” Oinone clasped her hands together. “I will return, and while I’m gone, I will send out a conch to gather the Galathea and Tonga covens. It will take our distant kin longer to get to us. Do us all a favor and rest, you’ll need it.” With that, Oinone left, leaving Jager to wallow in his misery.
In the quiet hut, against his wish, Jager fell asleep, but it was the sound of Kriegen’s voice rising that pulled him from slumber. When his eyes fluttered open, he saw his brother hovering over him, with fury in his gaze.
“We can’t let them get away with it, Oinone, they could have killed him.” Kriegen’s hand swept along Jager’s head. “They need to pay.”
“All of them, Kriegen? All of them need to pay for one human’s action?” She lifted a brow.
Darkness crept into Kriegen’s gaze. “And wouldn’t they slaughter us all if it was just one mer who acted out? Wouldn’t they throw nets into the water hoping to fetch a prize? I’ve had enough of human filth.”
Horror filled Jager. His hands lifted to press against his brother’s shoulders. “Kriegen, you can’t think like that. You’re no better than them if you do.” He sat up and twisted; the pain receded and it felt more like a dull twinge. “Were they still there?”
“No,” Oinone replied, tapping her long nails against a stone table. “They returned to shore, but they’ll be back. So now we wait, and we plan, we strengthen the bindings…”
“To the depths!” Kriegen snapped. “We attack, as we should have done centuries ago. They could have taken my brother from me today, but I can promise this—it will be the last attempt they ever make. I will kill them.”
Dread coiled in Jager’s belly, even as the two brothers quietly returned home. Neither slept that night, and they were up before a conch arrived at their home the following morning. Kriegen was the one to scoop it up in his grasp, his lips moving as he whispered to the shellfish.
“We are to meet at the pillars at once,” Kriegen stated. “If you’re feeling up to it, that is.” His voice softened a touch, but his eyes remained hard as he looked at Jager’s scarred side.
“I am fine, Brother, I swear it.”
“And I am beyond glad you are, but they must pay.” He swam from the home, not bothering to glance over his shoulder.
Jager, frustrated, swam after him, hoping beyond all else that his brother wasn’t past the point of no return. Had the Volumes of Tenebris warped his kind brother? Kriegen, who everyone loved, Kriegen, who was the first to help the mer in need? Snapping himself from the thought, he swam faster, catching up with his brother.
The current benefited them, allowing the brothers to arrive quickly. Already the coven assembled, chatting amongst themselves, and the way their eyes flicked to Kriegen every once in a while, Jager assumed they knew.
None said a thing, not even as they formed a circle inside the fallen pillars. Not as they clasped one another’s hands or even as they began to hum.
“Muir, we gather here to call upon the power of the sea. That you grant us the power to protect what is all of ours and sacred to you. Grant us the power we need today. May you all sing true.” Oinone nodded her head and began to sing in her raspy, lower tone. The water seemed to vibrate with the power, and as the rest of the mer joined in the current halted altogether, listening to them as they strengthened the wards in the water and around their island.
The water began whirling in the center of the circle, growing and rising as it stretched to the surface. With it, it brought the magic they sang, and their joined hands allowed the magic to amplify.
When it was done, even Oinone sagged for a moment. “Jager, Kriegen, go above to scout, the king and his men shall be here shortly.”
Kriegen nodded, darting through the water as he began his ascent. Jager wasn’t too far off and opted to swim a distance away from his brother so he could gain a different vantage point.
As he surfaced, he peered across the way, catching sight of the boat. Stealthily, Jager swam toward the prow, listening carefully to see if any familiar voices called out. Just as he was considering the conversation dull, a body plunged into the sea. They had wrapped the body in weighted chains, which caused it to sink rapidly.
Jager looked around, wondering where his brother had gone. A thought of allowing the human to plunge to their death passed his mind. What had humans ever done for him or his family? They had murdered his father and strung him up on display for everyone to see. One of the crew on this bloody boat had even shot him! Yet, he couldn’t allow the blasted human to drown.
Cursing, he swam after the human and caught his body. Dark eyes stared at him in shock.
He didn’t speak, but he hummed and allowed magic to break down the metal bindings; they slid away with ease. His fingers dug into the clothing and flesh of the male as he surfaced.
The male gasped and sputtered, water spewed from his mouth and nose. “T-T-Thank y-y-you,” he stuttered. His eyes blinked rapidly. “M-M-Merma…”
“Merman. Stay quiet, what is going on?” he ground his words out.
“Mut-t-tiny,” he replied. A distinct stutter made it more difficult for his words to come out.
“What is your name?”
“G-g-or-or-or-gie.” The sludge trickled down the male’s face, and it was now discernable that this wasn’t a man but a boy, a teen boy. He couldn’t have been much older or younger than Jager, but his body lacked the definition and fat.
“Mutiny? And then what?”
“T-aran.” The boy suck
ed in a breath and tried to calm himself the more riled he became the harder it was to speak. “He wants the island that belongs to no man. To c-c-laim it and w-win the favor of the King of Stenf-fisk.”
Another body slammed into the sea, but Jager wouldn’t be able to keep all of them afloat; as it was, he had already taxed himself enough trying to keep up with the ship.
A string of curses left him. Jager pinned a glare on the redhead above. “Georgie, I won’t be able to keep you afloat for much longer, just… trust me.” What was he saying? There was no other option, he had to stop or at least set the newly appointed captain back for a moment.
Jager lifted his hands to begin signing. As he drew sigils in the water, a low hum resonated in his chest. The ocean began to respond to him, curling around Georgie and dragging him away from the merman. He lifted one hand to silence the teen and pushed his hands forward to control the movement of the sea.
The water lifted the boy up the length of the ship and toward the skiff attached to the side. His anxious face paled but once he was lowered down and the water receded, he seemed to relax.
Another body fell into the turbulent sea and this time Jager dove in after them. He did as before and broke the chains away and sent the human, this one aged, with the boy.
The humans on the ship continued to disagree, their tension escalating. “Hasken! You should have listened,” came the familiar voice Jager heard on the dock. “Do you not want glory? Do you not want the king to look to us with respect, to be honorable? You were once the greatest, and now I will take your place. Captain Paddersen has a ring to it.” His tone wasn’t gruff; instead, it sounded exasperated.
“I am honorable. I adhere to the treaties, you idiot!” Captain Hasken sounded panicked, as he should be.
“They can’t own the ocean and an island,” scoffed Taran.
“Yes! Yes, they can. The last time I checked, you aren’t magically inclined—unless you’re part fae and kept that from me.” Silence spread between them.
“Oh, but that’s the thing. I am,” Taran drawled over the rail. “At least my grandmother bestowed enough blood in me to gift me with magic. But the land has forgotten that the sea isn’t the only place where magic grows. I plan to tear those bindings to pieces, and that land will belong to Stenfisk.”
“Then you are every part the foolish boy I pegged you for, Taran.”
Their squabbles allowed for Jager to dip into the depths, his mouth parted as he began to sing the notes that called upon the magic that coursed through his veins. His fingers created the sigils that amplified the magic and soon the water in front of the ship began to spiral.
At first, it was nothing, but then it swelled into a large whirlpool.
“Whirlpool!” a crew member cried. The water formation spiraled outward, expanding as it stretched to the surface. It was as if the water taunted the humans, begging for them to cross into the sea that didn’t belong to them.
“Why even give them a chance?” Kriegen asked, genuinely perplexed.
As Jager dipped below the surface, he dove underneath his brother and toward the seafloor. “Everyone deserves a chance.”
Kriegen followed him, reached out and yanked on one of his brother’s fins to halt him. “How many chances, Jager? I thought you of all mer would understand.”
“I don’t have an answer, but the coven needs to get here now. The new captain is a render.” He gritted his teeth, slanting his eyes. “I understand, brother, but now isn’t the time.”
At the sea floor, he rushed to the pillars where the coven still waited. “Oinone!” he shouted, his eyes wide and wild as he frantically spun, looking for her.
“Jager, what is it?” She swam up to them, looking between the two of them. A frown tugged at her lips as she focused on Kriegen.
“They have a render! The boy who shot me, he’s… he has magic. He plans to claim our land—our sea.” He spoke so quickly the words almost blended into one. “I halted them for now, but we need to stop them.”
“Kriegen, remain here and wait for the king. I’ll take Jager and the rest to the surface.”
Swimming closer to Oinone, Kriegen’s face darkened. “What? I should go to the surface, I’m one of the stronger mer—I can be of use.”
Oinone pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes. “You can be of use here by waiting for the king and his army. That is an order from your coven leader.”
Jager watched his brother’s face sour, his teeth gritting as he hissed his words. “Yes, Mistress Oinone.”
The moment Oinone and Jager were out of hearing range, it was Oinone that spoke first. “Perhaps you think me cruel. I have a bad feeling brewing in my bones…” Her words trailed off as they swam upward.
“No, I don’t… I feel it, something dreadful,” Jager said, clutching at his chest. A deep ache formed in his soul, as if the bond between him and his brother were being torn asunder.
Oinone shot him a sympathetic look, her lips parting as if she would speak, but then said no more as they swam upward.
The swim to the surface was a blur. Jager didn’t feel the exhaustion that plagued him moments ago, thanks to the adrenaline that coursed through him. His eyes scanned the surface of the water, and when he spotted the location of the whirlpool, he saw the ship.
Taran commanded the vessel to shift into the channel to avoid the whirlpool, but it wasn’t of natural occurrence, and so it followed the ship like a shadow. It drew strength from Jager; eventually it would falter, but his magic was strong. The coven surrounded the area—if need be, they would aid him.
To Jager’s alarm, a body plunged into the water and didn’t surface. When he dipped below the water, he saw a figure descending, swimming deeper with a purpose. Cursing, he followed him.
When he reached the boy, he noticed there was a wild look in the redhead’s gaze and Jager knew at once it was Taran. The kid was bent on getting to the island. He meant to tear the wards down, so his ship could sail into the forbidden waters.
Noman’s Island was sacred. Jager might not have believed their god still cared, but it belonged to them.
“Look out!” Kriegen shouted, startling Jager. “You piece of…” A spear sailing by him cut his words off and the weapon narrowly missed the boy. “You are surrounded. You won’t get out of here alive!”
Sure enough, below Kriegen, the king led the army, tridents and swords in hand.
Taran’s lips pulled into a smile, his legs kicking him upward as he needed air. The boy was stupid if he thought the mer wouldn’t attack him now.
A snarl ripped from Kriegen. His hair floated around his body and lashed in the water as if it had a life of its own. “I will not tolerate this!”
The boy deserved punishment, but did he deserve death? Was that even up to the mer to decide? As they pursued the boy, Jager spared a glance to Kriegen. He noticed his normally bright blue eyes were blackening. Dread unfurled inside of him.
“Brother, what have you been up to as of late?” Jager asked softly, but loud enough for him to hear.
There was no reward of a glance. Instead, Kriegen flicked his tail, sending an array of bubbles into Jager’s vision. “We must protect what belongs to us. The humans are greedy, and when the mass population discovers the truth of us, they will hunt us to extinction—just like our father.” He hissed the words as he swam away.
Beyond where they swam, the sea witches in the area jerked as the wards did their job, repelling the ship. They all felt it and soon the entire kingdom would know what was transpiring. Even the water responded and instead of erupting into violence, it stilled. The whirlpool vanished, and the surface looked much like glass.
Taran surfaced, but not for long. Jager shot himself forward, and as he neared the boy, he yanked him downward. If Taran couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t perform magic. It would allow the coven to weave the wards tightly. As for now, the render had to be dealt with.
Under the water, Jager had the advantage: he could breathe and he c
ould maneuver with ease, but the human was slippery as an eel. He kicked and thrashed, and in an instant pain blossomed against Jager’s side, forcing him to relinquish his grip. Blood clouded the surrounding water, and the blade the boy held in his grasp gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the surface.
“That was a grand mistake,” Jager said lowly.
Renewed with urgency, Jager signed his magic and from it came thick cords of seawater. It was akin to the brine pool past the depths of the Selith. Slicing through the water, it snaked around the Taran’s body, and since the tendrils were only liquid, they couldn’t keep a hold on him. It could, however, spin and pull him away with a current, which was exactly what it did.
He pulled harder and yanked him back. The blasted redheaded boy kept fighting, clawing and gasping for breath. The thought dawned on him that this could end now if Jager dragged Taran to the depths and drowned him. If only Jager was a murderer.
“I wish I could damn you to the depths!” he shouted and propelled the teen from the water. A large spout pushed him upward and held him there. It was then that he realized, a little too late, Taran was a distraction.
His blue eyes widened as he saw a flash of white against a backdrop of green. A human was standing on Noman’s Island, their sacred ground, tarnishing it with his existence.
A pit formed in Jager’s stomach because he knew no good would come of this. They could fight and win today, they could decimate all the humans and turn their ship into particles of the sea, but would they be the last voyagers that longed to claim what didn’t belong to them?
No.
An explosion filled the air. Sea spray rained down on the surface and soon after came splinters of wood.
His ears rang, he felt dazed, and when he turned his hand over splinters of wood fell into his hand. He realized the ship had exploded. Jager’s eyes jerked to the scene of the boat which was engulfed in flames.
A curse left his lips as he ducked beneath the water and swam toward the boat. He could hear the muted cries from above, the sound of the popping fire, and when he surfaced the smell of burning wood assaulted his nose. He coughed, spinning in the water; the smoke was filling the air, and the ship was still moving toward the island’s sandbar.
Secrets of Galathea Volume 1 Page 3