The Rising

by Kristen Ashley

  Her fin was a dark teal, her caudal a lovely carnation pink, and her scales glistened like diamonds.

  She was smiling merrily at me as she rippled her fin and swum gracefully before me.

  Jorie was doing somewhat the same, but as his tail was at least three times longer than Ha-Lah’s, and mine was Ha-lah’s length, I watched her far more closely.

  Once I felt I understood her movements, and could mimic them, I emulated her, and it felt both natural and unnatural, as I made my way to the surface.

  I broke it, experienced an odd sensation at my neck, but ignored it to seek my husband.

  I found I had my back to the ship. Thus, I twirled around and saw him, his fingers curved over the railing as if he was preparing to jump it, and he was glowering over the side.

  When he caught sight of me, relief swept through his expression.

  I lifted my arm and waved as I heard Jorie and Ha-Lah surface either side of me.

  “You are well?” Mars boomed.

  “I am, husband!” I called back, still waving.

  It took but a moment before he grinned indulgently and shouted, “Have fun, bellezza.”

  Oh, but I loved my husband.

  I blew him a kiss, looked to Ha-Lah, Jorie, and Jorie said, “Let’s go swimming, little sister.”

  Then he surged up, and down, the entirety of his big, powerful body, including his glorious fin breaking the surface, the powerful caudal striking up on a spray of sea before he disappeared into The Deep.

  Ha-Lah grabbed my hand, I turned to her, and she pulled us both up with the strength of her tail.

  I tucked my head as she did…

  And we were under.

  We held hands as we undulated our fins, and I felt it that time, as I was not experiencing my tail forming, thus that taking the whole of my attention.

  There was a sensation on either side of my neck, like the scratch of a kitten.

  Ha-Lah must have read my thoughts for she said, “Gills. This is why you can breathe.”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me, that I could breathe.

  But I could.

  I could breathe underwater!

  I nodded, more than likely smiling like a fool, and I asked a question, the answer being obvious, as we were doing it, “We can talk underwater?”

  “We can, and we can understand one another. But when I guided Aramus from Amphite to home, I spoke to him and he said it came out as gibberish. I asked Jorie about this, for I didn’t know of it, and he said this is why we understand the beasts of the sea, something the Mer are as well, for we have the ability to listen and understand underwater.”

  This was important to know.

  And I wondered, if this hearing underwater had something to do with why I could hear so well out of it.

  “Silence,” she called.

  “Yes,” I answered, I thought unnecessarily, as I was right there.

  “My friend…” she let me go, “swim.”

  For a moment, I was suspended. Uncertain.

  Then I looked around.

  The water was very blue.

  The depths below seemed very gray.

  And I saw a vast school of tiny, shimmering, silvery fish swimming some distance away.

  This was before I felt a whisper of something against my fin, another, and I flipped it automatically as all about me another school of glistening fish swept by me, causing what felt like an all-over tickle.

  I laughed and pushed after them, feeling Jorie and Ha-Lah swimming at my sides, but behind me, and I looked over my shoulders in turn to send them grins.

  A sentiment they both reciprocated.

  The school as one suddenly darted to the left, and I messed the turn, going wide, but I watched as Ha-lah looped her head, dipped a shoulder, and spiraled into her turn in an elegant manner I made mental note to try myself.

  We followed the school for some time, striking ever deeper, though it was probably only me doing it in wonder.

  I could see fish, floating bits of detached seaweed.

  But mostly, I sensed the vastness around me.

  It went so far down, and so wide in all directions, it felt like I could swim for years and years and then keep swimming.

  However, this was not overwhelming.

  No.

  Instead, I felt…

  Free.

  Of a sudden, Jorie powered ahead of us, before he swam in front of me, cutting me off, helixing up, and Ha-Lah and I followed him.

  And when Ha-Lah passed me, smiling back my way, she did this exclaiming, “Oh, Silence! You’re in for a treat!”

  We both chased after Jorie’s powerful tail, me doing so pleased that I had found my pacing with my fin, and it wasn’t long before I saw them.

  And begorrah.

  What marvel!

  I kicked my fin faster as Ha-Lah and Jorie pursued them.

  This was when I felt a tickle in my throat, the emotion sting my eyes, as I watched Jorie, then Ha-Lah, join a large pod of dolphins.

  There had to be thirty of them, maybe forty, even babies!

  They were glorious.

  Jorie’s big body and long fin curled around one, then another, and they began to butt him with their bottle noses, and I would swear to the gods, they were smiling at him.

  Come play.

  When these words came to me, I stopped swimming abruptly.

  Jorie, Ha-Lah and the dolphins were swirling on, distance forming between us, but three dolphins at the end of the school broke off, swum to me, beyond me…

  They then turned, surged up all about me, causing the waters to churn and bubble and propel me with them, and I heard it again.

  Come play.

  By the gods!

  Just as Ha-Lah said!

  They could speak to me!

  I kicked and struck out with my arms as one dashed over the top of me from one side to the other, one doing the same below, and then another over me, then one raced in front of me.

  I liked this “play.”

  I liked it very much.

  Thus, I laughed, joined in and swam with the dolphins.

  Jorie made his way back, curved around, took position beside me and guided me deeper into the pod.

  Some of the dolphins rose up, breaking the surface, only to dive back down, causing effervescent white foam and bubbles to form around us that tingled as you swam through them and just felt…

  Happy.

  My brother and I swam side by side, skimming through it.

  “How do you feel, my little sister?” Jorie asked.

  I turned my head to my handsome brother.

  And answered with complete honesty, “Like I’ve finally come home.”

  His smile could light up the sea.

  Then we both struck forward.

  And we played with the dolphins.

  I held the rope tight in my hands as they heaved me up.

  When I made the deck, Mars caught me in his arms in the cocoon of a large sheet of toweling and pulled me aboard, dropping to his behind on the deck and holding me against the warmth of his chest.

  My tail flipped and flopped on the wood as I looked up at my husband to see his eyes locked on my fin.

  “But of course, it’s beautiful,” he muttered.

  I started to smile at his words, and then I winced.

  “Steady, angelfish,” Jorie’s voice could be heard above me. “We talked about this. Just breathe through it, Silence.”

  We had talked about it.

  But faith, the pain of the split was blinding, and each scale reentering my skin felt like thousands of little cuts.

  “I do not like this,” Mars stated on a rumble, and I knew I was not hiding the unpleasantness of the sensations.

  “It will be over in moments, and eventually she’ll get so used to it, she’ll barely feel it,” Jorie assured.

  “She’s feeling it now,” Mars noted in a threatening tone.

  I had been.

  But suddenly, I wasn’t.<
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  I looked down to my legs which looked like naught but my legs. No marks from where the scales had pushed through. Not even a whisper of my lovely caudal left.

  I missed it, and I cuddled closer to the warmth of Mars, for I didn’t feel the cold in The Deep, but I felt it on the deck.

  I looked up to my brother.

  “Can we do that again soon?” I requested.

  He burst with laughter.

  I decided, and was delighted, that meant yes.

  “And this weariness?” I heard Mars ask as I rode before him, in his arms, atop Hephaestus, on our way back to the Citadel.

  And I did it with my eyelids drooping.

  “She has had much activity. It doesn’t seem thus, for in the doing, it seems easy. But in truth, swimming requires the use of your whole body at all times you’re doing it, and she is not accustomed to this. She will become so, my brother, and this weariness after a swim will fade,” Jorie explained.

  As I was, indeed, weary, I did not take issue with my husband and brother speaking about me when I was right there.

  Instead, I peeked through my flagging eyes and noted with great relief that we’d made the bottom of the lane to the Citadel. I was gladdened by the seeing of it, for all I wished to do was find our bed, crawl into it and take a nap that would last until supper.

  I was so tired, along the way, I hadn’t even glanced around to enjoy the cheerful hustle and bustle of Sky Bay that always so heartened me when we rode through it.

  Indeed, I nearly fell asleep riding the long lane up to the Citadel.

  We were almost there when I heard Jorie say, “If I did not like him so, his overprotection would be irksome.”

  “His sister is my wife and his wife is my sister. This is the man you would wish for both, no?” Mars replied, and I knew they were talking about True.

  Thus, suddenly excited to share with my cousin about my day, I forced my eyes open, raised my head, looked forward and saw True striding purposefully around the large fire that rose in the courtyard in front of the Citadel.

  It was then I found that my adventure had been so delightful, my desire to share about it beat back the fatigue and I aimed a beaming smile to my cousin.

  “True, it was glorious!” I called.

  His return smile was oddly tight as Mars reined in Hephaestus close to True.

  “This makes me happy for you,” he replied.

  Then his gaze went direct to Mars.

  Oh no.

  “What is it?” Mars clipped, noting what I had noted.

  True was not greeting us upon our return from my first swim as a mermaid, keen to know how it went.

  Something was amiss.

  His jaw hardened, his gaze bore into Mars’s, then it came to me and it softened.

  “Silence,” he said like he was trying not to talk through his teeth, “your mother is here.”

  I shot straight in my husband’s arms.

  “Fuck,” I heard Jorie mutter.

  “Where is she?” Mars bit off.

  “I demanded she remain behind in the red room so that she did not surprise Silence with her appearance as she did me,” True told him.

  “Thank you,” I said, cutting into their conversation. “Now, if I could ask you to have the servants delay for fifteen minutes so I can see to my state and make my way to the throne room. After that time, they can escort her there, and I will grant her an audience.”

  True’s brows rose at my words and my tone in saying them

  My husband’s arm tightened about me, and he called, “Silence.”

  I looked up to Mars.

  “I am not her queen, but I am a queen, and when you wish to speak to a queen, and that wish is granted, she provides you an audience, which shortly, I will do,” I stated. “Now, will you let me down, husband?”

  He gazed at my face and murmured, “My love, a queen can also refuse an audience.”

  “Why would I do that?” I asked. “For I wish to hear what she has to say.”

  Mars did not, at once, acquiesce to my earlier request.

  But then, he hefted me down into True’s waiting hands before he dismounted behind me.

  Jorie was at our side in a flash.

  “I would attend this audience,” he stated.

  I looked up at my brother.

  “I would have it no other way than have both my kings,” I glanced at True, “all my kings with me, should that be their wish.”

  “I shall be there,” True said, before turning stiffly on his boot and sauntering away.

  I headed toward the door.

  Mars was at my side, querying, “Would you like me to call for Tril?”

  “No, for I will hold my patience, and she might not,” I answered.

  “Silence,” he called as we entered the doors.

  “I will be all right,” I said to the spray of coral and purple gladiolus on the table in the center of the entryway.

  “Piccolina.”

  I stopped and looked up at my husband, who stopped with me, as did my brother who was right there.

  Always right there, Jorie.

  Making up for time lost.

  Making up for nearly twenty-four years of having a sister.

  And not having her.

  Because of my mother.

  “My love,” I said to Mars. “I will be fine.”

  He didn’t seem convinced.

  I didn’t have the energy to convince him.

  And what energy I did have, I had to conserve.

  I divested myself of gloves and cloak, tossing them over a chair before I found the small antechamber off the Great Hall that had a privy and a basin with a faucet that looked like the face of an angry god blowing wind from his mouth and out of that wind came (hot and cold, depending on the dial you turned) water.

  During the return sail into Twilight Harbor, Finnie had helped Ha-Lah and I wash the salt from our skin and rinse it from our hair and I had donned a lovely gown.

  But for this meeting, I would have wished something a might grander and perhaps my hair arranged, not simply pulled back at the nape.

  I wanted this meeting done.

  Therefore, I would not get this wish.

  I splashed water on my face, toweled it off, looked in the mirror before me and whispered, “I shall have to do.”

  I left the antechamber to find my husband and brother loitering outside it.

  And in the seeing, it struck me.

  These tall, handsome, powerful men were my tall, handsome, powerful men.

  I had earned one through love and the other through blood.

  But now they were mine.

  And neither had anything to do with him.

  Or her.

  My life no longer had anything to do with him.

  Or her.

  And this bolstered me.

  They said nothing as we made our way to the stairs to seek the throne room.

  Cassius had had a wedding gift made for his bride, of which we had witnessed the giving, something that made Elena trill with laughter and kiss him deeply, even if she finished the kiss by saying, “You didn’t have to and I mean that truly. I’ll lose my vantage, but I suppose I’ll be more comfortable.”

  And thus, a room that had had very little furniture—a throne on the dais at the front, two sofas set before it—now had one added piece.

  An almost identical throne set next to Cassius’s.

  However, his had silver-painted wood and sky-blue cushions.

  But Elena’s was a rich mahogany and the material that upholstered it was a golden velvet.

  For of course, the sky must have its sun.

  It was only in seeing them, I hesitated.

  I looked up to Mars. “Do you think they would—?”

  “No,” he answered shortly.

  I pressed my lips together and made my way to the podium.

  My husband remained standing while I seated myself in Elena’s throne before he took his own seat in Cassius’s.
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  Jorie positioned himself to my right.

  “We could delay, call your sisters here,” Mars suggested.

  “I am fine.”

  “I would think Tril would wish to be close,” Mars remarked.

  “She would. She would also be unpredictable,” I told him.

  Tril had become a devotee of Jorie’s, almost as much as she was of Mars.

  This, for she loved anyone who loved me.

  My mother and not-father and their shenanigans?

  Not in the slightest.

  “Wife.”

  I turned my head to him. “Husband.”

  “I am uneasy, for I cannot read you,” he said quietly, studying me intently.

  “All my life, she lied to me,” I declared. “All my life, she chose him over me. All my life I had a family that, it may have been unwitting, but it cannot be argued, due to her silence, she kept them from me. And I will have her answer to all of that.”

  His eyes fired.

  Jorie muttered, “Absolutely.”

  I drew in a very deep breath for the umpteenth time that day.

  And faced forward.

  “A queen does not sit at the edge of her throne,” Mars noted gently.

  This was good counsel.

  I was shifting back, resting my forearms on the arms of the chair, when True strode in, an openly irked Farah at his side, and my mother was trailing them.

  I saw she had lost weight. Not to mention, in the time since I’d seen her, which wasn’t very long, she looked like she’d aged years.

  And her eyes were anxious on me.

  I realized then that she was always anxious.

  Always worried.

  Always fretting.

  The only times she didn’t seem as such were when she was at her embroidery, at her knitting, or staring vacantly out a window.

  Her step stuttered when she noted Jorie.

  “Vanka,” True said. “Allow me to present you to Jorie, King of the Mer and Silence’s brother.”

  She’d come to a halt between the two sofas before us, her attention fixed on my brother, her expression a mask of shock.

  “My…you look…you…King of the Mer?” she stammered. Jorie said nothing, but I assumed he indicated his affirmation of this, for Mother said, “You look just like—”

  “My father?” he asked.

  It took noticeable effort for her to pull herself together, and she didn’t completely accomplish it, before she asked, “He is well?”