by Lari Don
“PLEASE try. I MUST compete!”
The healer finished applying the green liquid to the silver scales, and looked at Helen. “It is up to her. But I would like to see this sealant.”
“I’ll have to search for what I need at the campsite,” said Helen. “Do you want to come with me on the boat, Serena, or wait for me to row there and back?”
Suddenly they were surrounded by sea folk offering help, announcing that the human healer shouldn’t tire herself out rowing, that they would push the boat, and that the mermaid would need cushions to keep her comfy on the way over.
So Helen, the fabled beasts and the pampered mermaid sped across Taltomie Bay, propelled by a ring of chattering blue loons, selkies and mermaids.
Carefully arranged on the bench in the bow, Serena asked Helen in a low voice, “Why are you doing this?”
“Why wouldn’t I help?”
“Yesterday you thought I’d DROWNED you.”
“Now I know you didn’t. Sorry about that.”
“TODAY, I’m competing against your friend.”
“Why are you all so keen on being Sea Herald?” asked Helen. “It’s a dangerous job, and you have to do it for the rest of your life.”
“I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do it.”
“Why?”
“Because the deep sea powers have been under the waves longer than anyone else, and if a Sea Herald serves them well, she might be able to find out …”
“What?”
Serena’s tear-stained face twisted angrily. “You didn’t see me on the rocks, as your precious selkie and that muscle-bound blue loon ran over them like athletes. I probably lost the race then, because even though I can change my tail to legs, when I walk it feels like I’m treading on hot coals. I can’t run, I can only stagger, like a sailor just off a boat. I want legs that WORK. I want to dance, run, climb, and be just as free on land as I am at sea. All mermaids want that.”
“Can the sea powers give you that? Do they grant wishes?”
“No. We were cursed to have pain with every step, and only the one who set the curse can lift it. Merras and Thalas must know where that sea witch is now, and how we can persuade her to lift the ancient curse. If I was Sea Herald, I could ask them.”
Helen looked at Tangaroa, pushing the boat to shore, who wanted to be Sea Herald to find his way home; at Serena, who wanted to be Sea Herald to lift a curse; and at Rona, swimming by her side, who didn’t want to be Sea Herald at all.
As they reached the jetty, Helen leapt out of the boat before it stopped. She asked the willing helpers to carry Serena to the pebble beach, then ran to the racks of bikes between the rows of Scouts’ tents.
She searched the saddlebags of three bikes before she found what she was looking for. As she pulled it out, Lavender landed beside her. “What’s that?”
“A bicycle repair kit.”
“But mermaids aren’t bicycles. How will that repair Serena?”
“I can’t think of anything else on the campsite which will.”
Helen jogged to the gathering on the beach, where she opened the repair kit and her own rucksack, then started laying equipment out.
There was a growing ring of sea people around her, curious about this human child trying to heal a mermaid. Helen had never done first aid with such a big audience before. Lavender noticed her anxious glances, and darted up to Yann, who used his big voice to order, “Give them space!”
The selkies, blue loons and mermaids dived into the bay and swam back to the island, until it was just Serena, the healer mermaid and the group of friends on the beach.
Helen looked at the green fluid. It was darker now, so she touched a fingertip to the tail to check it was dry. “I’m going to try the sealant. Let me know if it hurts. But please stay still. Do you want someone to hold your hand?”
“No, I’m going to be BRAVE. Sea Heralds have to be brave and ruthless, don’t they, selkie?”
“Ruthless?” asked Helen vaguely, as she took a tube of tyre glue out of the repair kit.
Lavender shot over. “Glue!” she whispered. “You’re going to glue her together?”
“Yes.”
“That’s … original. What if the glue’s not waterproof?”
“If it’s not waterproof it won’t be much use for fixing bikes on Scottish roads, will it?”
Helen examined the wound. The cut was deep into the flesh, but not ragged, and only a couple of scales were missing. “I’m going to straighten your tail, protect the wound with the scales, then put the gl— the sealant over the scales. It should keep the water out and be flexible enough for you to flick your tail. Shall I go ahead?”
“Yes PLEASE, human child.”
As Helen adjusted the tail and scales, Serena shrieked, “OW! That’s sore! You didn’t say it would be PAINFUL!”
“Actually she did say it might hurt,” pointed out Yann.
“But it’s REALLY SORE! You’re hurting me deliberately, just like your selkie friend CUT me deliberately.”
“I did not!” objected Rona.
“The wound isn’t sealed yet,” Helen said calmly, “but I’ll stop if you want.”
“NO! But be more gentle.”
Helen squirted glue onto the smooth scales.
“OW! That stings!”
“Just be brave,” Yann muttered from behind Helen.
“BRAVE! It’s easy for YOU to say brave. She isn’t sticking your tail together! OW!”
Serena kept moaning and demanding to know if Helen was finished, as Helen worked her way down the scales.
At last Helen said, “There. I’m finished. Please sit still until it dries. You should be able to swim back to the island in fifteen minutes or so.”
“It’s still sore, you know. I’m still having to be brave not to cry.”
“She’s trying so hard, she’s forgotten to say thank you,” Lavender muttered in Helen’s ear.
“So if I can do brave NOW, selkie girl, do you think you can do RUTHLESS after lunch?”
“Now, Serena,” whispered the mermaid healer. “Play nicely.”
Serena ignored her. “So RONA, have you told your human friend what the second task is yet? Or shall I tell her?”
Helen finished putting everything away. She glanced at the opaque skin on the glue as it dried. Then she looked up. Rona was white. Yann was frowning. Serena was almost purring with glee.
“Alright,” said Helen, standing up. “Who’s going to tell me?”
Rona opened her mouth, then shut it again.
Serena called out in a cheerful voice, “This afternoon the winner will be the contestant who can SINK the largest number of canoes, and put the highest number of human children in the deep dark northern seas to DROWN. I wonder who will win THAT task …?
Chapter 19
“I can’t believe it.” Helen stared at the groundsheet, trying not to cry. “That’s why your nice friendly Auntie Sheila wanted those Scouts here. That’s why no one would tell me about the second task.
“I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Rona. I can’t believe your people do this for every Sea Herald contest. You are going to drown children!” Helen looked up. “Rona! That makes you … a killer!”
Rona spoke softly. “I am a killer. I kill fish every day. But this isn’t …”
“You kill fish, but not people. You don’t kill people, do you? You’re my friend. You’re my best friend. Have you ever planned to drown me?”
“No, and I’m not …”
“Stop denying it! Are you doing the task this afternoon?”
“Well … yes … but …”
“Well yes but! That means you’re going to try to kill those Scouts. I can’t believe …”
Helen couldn’t say any more. She didn’t want to look at Rona, at any of her friends. She had to get out.
“Helen! Please listen …” Rona’s beautiful voice caught in her throat.
Helen stumbled out of the tent, and ran through the deserted campsite
.
When she reached the gate, she followed the track inland. She had left the tent without anything. No fiddle, no first aid kit. She was running light, and she sprinted away from the sea, the island, the selkies. She ran until she found a clump of skinny trees bent down behind a low hill. She could still smell the salt and hear the seagulls, but she was out of sight of the sea.
She sat on a twisted tree trunk, and put her head in her hands.
How could Rona do this?
How could Helen have known Rona for so long, and not realise Rona was capable of this?
There was so much she didn’t know about her friends. She hadn’t even realised Rona didn’t breathe underwater until this morning. If she didn’t know how selkies’ lungs worked, then she couldn’t understand how their minds worked.
She didn’t know their laws or values either. She didn’t know whether they thought killing people was murder or if it was the same as killing herring.
Then Helen wondered about the fishtail she’d healed this afternoon. In a world where people could have fishtails and seals could become people, perhaps the boundaries were blurred.
What was she doing here? Why wasn’t she at home, in her village? With humans. Who had rules she knew and understood. Who didn’t have strange powers and bizarre competitions with deadly tasks. Who didn’t think of a campsite of teenagers as a convenient way to test their ability to sink boats.
Why were Helen’s best friends all furred or feathered or four-legged? Why was she here in this odd world rather than texting other eleven-year-olds about film stars and hairstyles?
Why had she just accepted this world? Why hadn’t she asked more questions? Though who would have thought to ask: “Do you ever kill people to win contests?”
She should have asked more questions.
But now, she had to save the Scouts.
She tried to remember what Sheila had said. The Scouts were climbing Ben Loyal, then taking a canoe trip before a barbecue tea on a beach. So once they were down the mountain, Helen could intercept them on the road to the campsite, before they took their canoes to the jetty.
“Stop!” she would say. “Don’t go out for your afternoon boat trip because a selkie, a mermaid and a boy covered in tattoos are planning to drown you.”
That might not work. She’d try to say something they’d believe, something which didn’t mention selkies. Because if she betrayed the selkies, the colony would have to leave, and Helen wasn’t sure she wanted that. Not if she could get a promise from them never to attack humans again.
She clambered up to the verge and looked along the track. No sign of minibuses with bright canoes on their roofs.
Canoes. On the minibuses.
Helen gasped. She ran towards the campsite until she had a clear view over the wall. She saw tents and bikes.
But no canoes.
The canoes were on the minibuses. The Scouts didn’t have to come back here to go to sea. They could be launching from anywhere along the north coast. They could be in the sea already!
How could Helen find them to warn them? Sheila might know where they were planning to go. But Sheila had helped set this task up. Helen couldn’t trust Sheila to tell the truth. She had to find them herself.
Helen thought about the coastline. There was a long sandy beach to the west of the campsite. They could launch canoes from there, and it would be a great place for a barbecue. She should try there first.
She’d have to go by boat. Could she row there in time to warn the Scouts, or would she arrive just in time to pull their bodies from the sea?
She sprinted towards the jetty. Then she heard a noise which usually made her feel safe. She heard hooves on the ground.
She looked over to her left. Yann was galloping to the jetty, followed by Catesby and Lavender. Rona wasn’t with them. Was she still weeping in the tent? Or had she already left on her murderous mission?
Helen ran faster. But she couldn’t outrace a centaur.
When Helen reached the wooden jetty, still slippy from the morning’s rain, Yann was there before her. Standing on the planks. Blocking her way to the boat.
“Let me past, Yann.”
“No, I won’t let you past. Listen to me …”
“There’s no time to listen. I have to save the Scouts.”
“Helen, you don’t understand …” Yann’s voice rose above Lavender’s high-pitched arguments and Catesby’s insistent chattering, as the fairy and the phoenix circled Helen and fought for her attention. But they couldn’t stop her getting in the boat. Only Yann could stop her. So she concentrated on him.
“I don’t understand why you aren’t trying to save them, Yann! Are all you fabled beasts the same? Killing people for sport?” She was shouting over his protests. “Do you all think of humans as enemies, or prey, or pawns in your magical games? Why should I listen to you? You’ve never trusted humans, so maybe you’ve never trusted me!”
“Helen, that’s not fair!”
“This isn’t about fair. This is about lives. I’m going to stop this contest, I’m going to save those Scouts, and I’m going to make sure fabled beasts never hurt people again. I’m going to protect humans from what they don’t yet know is there.”
“Are you going to tell them?”
“If I have to!”
“Helen! You can’t!”
“Yes, I can. And I will, if it saves the Scouts. Are you going to stop me?”
The two of them faced each other, Yann towering over her, his fighting face on, his fists clenched.
Helen knew how strong Yann was, how much he prided himself on his fighting skills. Would he hurt her, to stop her getting on the boat?
She’d accused him of not trusting her. She’d said she might betray his world.
But would he hurt her?
Helen realised she still trusted their friendship. So she stepped towards the boat.
Yann barged into her, using the weight of his horse body and the height of his horse shoulders to push her backwards.
“Yann!” she said indignantly. She stepped forward again.
He kicked the air, rearing up, his huge heavy hooves whistling past her head.
Helen jerked back, shocked.
“Yann! Your hooves nearly hit me!”
“They will hit you, human girl, if you try to get past me again,” he said through gritted teeth. “Go back to the tent. Go back now.”
Helen looked up at him, embarrassed to realise there were tears in her eyes. Yann had tried to kick her!
Even when they first met, even when he didn’t like her or trust her, he had never tried to hurt her. Maybe nothing had changed. Maybe he still didn’t like her or trust her. Maybe they were all using her, her music, her first aid skills, her connections to the human world.
Helen wasn’t going to be used any more. She was making her own decisions now. She took another step forward.
Yann raised a hoof.
She looked down at his hooves. And she saw the messy coils of rope on the wet jetty. When they’d landed with the injured mermaid, Helen had been too rushed to tie up neatly.
She looked at the tangle of yellow rope. And at the four dark hooves.
Helen bit her lip. Did she really think she could beat Yann?
She stepped to the left, and Yann covered that move. She stepped to her right, and he moved too. His back left hoof stepped into a loop of rope.
Helen looked around the jetty, as if looking for an escape route, but really hoping to distract him from the rope at his hooves. Just behind her, she saw something to distract him even more.
A long stick with a hook, like the pole her teacher used to open high windows in the classroom. She’d seen Sheila use this to haul waterlogged ropes out of the harbour. She grabbed it and waved the hooked end at Yann.
“Helen!” he said in exasperation. “Don’t take up weapons against me!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re my friend. Because I don’t want to hurt you.” His vo
ice was cracking. “But I can’t let you betray the selkies, or our whole world. Please put that down. I don’t want to hurt you, Helen.”
Helen jabbed the hooked pole at his chest.
He sidestepped the attack. Now two hooves were inside circles of rope.
“You know I have never been defeated. Not by anyone less than twice my size.”
“Then it’s high time you were defeated, you arrogant centaur.”
She swung the weapon at him. He stepped back to avoid the hook.
“Helen! Don’t do that!”
He stepped forward again, his front hooves placed into another rope tangle.
Lavender was shouting and Catesby was squawking, and Helen swung the pole again.
The centaur sighed. His hand flicked out, grabbed the pole, pulled it out of her hands, and threw it into the sea.
He crossed his arms and grinned. “Right. Enough of that foolishness. Let’s go back to the tent and talk about this sensibly. You need to know …”
“I already know everything I need to. Including what you’re standing in.”
He looked down. She darted forward and pulled the rope. It tightened round his hooves and fetlocks. He kicked out but nearly lost his balance.
For the first time, Yann was as angry as Helen. He yelled, “Don’t you dare!” Lavender and Catesby were swooping at her, shrieking and pulling her hair.
She hauled on the rope again. Yann kicked out once more, and his right front hoof struck her thigh. His leg was hobbled by the rope, so the kick didn’t quite knock Helen over. But it did force her back, limping and gasping with pain.
She looked down. The rope was still wrapped round Yann’s hooves and legs, so she jerked the end as hard as she could. The centaur teetered on the slippy planks and fell backwards off the jetty, into the shallow water of the harbour.
Helen leapt into the boat, untied the tangled rope, and grabbed the oars.
As she rowed out to sea, facing the campsite, she watched a wet, angry, seaweed-covered centaur trying to clamber onto the jetty. She called, just loud enough for him to hear, “Who’s one step ahead now?”
Chapter 20