by Ann Gimpel
It shouldn’t. The nearest farm was at least a kilometer away, and she hadn’t seen any stray sheep out this way. In the space between two heartbeats, she transported to a spot a few meters in front of her familiar cave. Always cautious, she stilled herself and took a deep breath, ready to flee at the first hint of anything amiss. She’d know if anyone had been here, even if it was months before.
The only thing that bounced back to her was the salt tang of the sea. A smile sprang to her face, and she hurried forward, intent on trading her clothes for her skin. Raene had to duck to enter the cave. She kindled a mage light, and its golden glow played around the rock walls slick with moss and lichen. Not much grew this far north, but mosses and lichens were ubiquitous. They grew everywhere.
“I knew you’d come.” A wavery voice, not much more than a breathy whisper, rustled from the shadows.
Raene stopped dead. She’d know that voice anywhere. “Mother?”
“Aye, and who else would be able to track you by smell?”
Raene hustled deeper into the cave, brightening her light. The reek of decaying flesh rose up, slapping her in the face. “How long have you been here?” she demanded and fell to her knees next to her mother’s emaciated form. Kari lay wrapped in Raene’s skin, which explained why she hadn’t sensed her mother’s presence from outside the cave.
“Long enough. I’m dying, daughter. Naught anyone can do to alter that, but I wanted to speak with you while I still could.” Her gaunt face took on an expression Raene remembered. Part resignation, part defiance. Part understated humor.
“Let me get you something to eat and drink.” Raene cradled her mother’s head, settling it in her lap. Her red hair, once the same color as Raene’s, had lost its rich russet patina. Streaked with silver, it fell lankly around her shoulders. Her turquoise eyes were rheumy and unfocused.
“Don’t bother,” her mother croaked. “I’ve very little time left. I expected you a month ago, perhaps more.”
“I was delayed, but I’m here now.” Raene didn’t see the point in taking up any of the few moments remaining to her mother with the story of Ula’s dying husband.
“Aye, that you are, sweetling.” Kari’s lids closed for a moment. When she opened her eyes, she said, “I’ve a tale to tell, but ’twill be shorter than I’d planned. I fear I haven’t the strength for more than a little—” A rattling cough shook her thin frame. Blood-flecked sputum dotted her lips and chin.
“It’s okay, Mum.” Raene pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and wiped her mother’s face clean.
Kari shook her head weakly. “Nay. ’Tisn’t. When I was young, I fell in love with a Selkie, but you’ll have already guessed that part. His name is Gregor and he was married to a Selkie queen. He feared she’d kill me if our affair was discovered. When I became pregnant, he pushed me to abort you. I refused to even consider it.”
More coughing racked her thin chest, and Raene held her closer. Power from her skin pulsed, and she understood it was the only thing keeping her mother on this side of the veil.
“I ran away,” Kari went on, her voice barely above a whisper, “but he found me. By then, my belly had grown large. He was angry, but he also understood. He spun magic that would end my life if I disclosed the secret of your birth. He also made certain we’d have enough money. It was kind of him.”
“Quite the motivation to remain silent,” Raene murmured, thinking horrible thoughts about her father. Far from being kind, he’d threatened her mother with death.
“Aye.” Kari nodded. “I hoped you wouldn’t be able to shift. If you were merely magical, you wouldn’t draw attention. Not so much, anyway. And you’d have been safe from Gregor—if he chose to look for you.”
“It’s all right, Mum. Truly it is. I love you. You did the best you could by me.”
“Nay. I failed you in so many ways. I was afraid if I taught you more than rudimentary magic, it would backfire, and Gregor would think I’d broken my agreement. My fear made me a bad mother. For that, I am truly sorry. In a backward way, he was certain he was being generous. That my dying from his magic would be far less painful than what his wife would do to me, but I was never convinced about that.”
“Ssht. Hush. It’s fine.” Raene lay next to her mother and gathered her close. Her body encased in the seal pelt was already cold as death. “Thank you for making the effort to find me.”
“Och, I’ve known where you are for a long time, but I’ve left you alone. What good could possibly have come from me hanging about?”
Raene felt the bitter bite of tears. “I’d have taken care of you, Mum. We could have lived together. I have a bake shop, and—”
“Aye, I know. ’Tis proud I am of you, daughter.”
Kari’s next inhalation rattled. The one following, rattled louder. Raene held her mother as death first stalked and then claimed her. Once Kari breathed her last, Raene stood and carried her mother’s almost weightless form to the sea, placing her in the surf. The woman had been all but dead for days, maybe weeks. She’d only held on long enough to make certain Raene knew about her father.
She crouched next to the shore and raised her voice, asking the goddess to accept her mother and ease her into the life to come. Water from the incoming tide washed over her boots. By the time it rose to ankle level, the salty wind had dried her tears.
Raene straightened and made her way back into the cave. The mage light never left her side as she removed and folded her garments, stashing them behind a pile of rocks. Naked, she picked up her pelt. It still smelled like her mother. The good smells of lavender and vanilla and wildflowers. The skin’s magic had obliterated the sweet rot of death.
Feeling sad and empty, yet free in a way she’d never been before, Raene carried her skin to the shoreline. Her mother’s body was gone, so perhaps the goddess had heard Raene’s plea. After draping the skin around herself, she waded until the cold water hit her mid-thigh before summoning a blast of shift magic.
The transition to seal no longer caused pain, and it happened far faster than it had the first time. Shielded by a nice layer of blubber, she wasn’t cold any longer. The tide ran against her, but seals were strong swimmers, and it took very little energy to move herself beyond the pull of the incoming tide.
Was Gregor part of the local Selkie pod?
Should she look for him?
She dove deep, surrounded by the tumultuous North Sea. The wisest course would be to leave well enough alone, but damn it, she didn’t want to. Her mother had suffered. Because of Gregor’s threats, she’d gone to her grave believing herself a terrible mother.
Raene told herself she was reacting, not thinking clearly.
I’ll give this a week, she promised herself.
If I’ve still a notion to track him down after that, give him a piece of my mind, I will.
She swam due north. The Selkies had an organized group somewhere between the Orkneys and the Hebrides. It was the pod that had rejected her. If she could locate them, which shouldn’t be hard with a bit of magic, she could ask around.
Discover who Gregor was and where she could find him.
In case she decided to look for him, after all.
If she’d been human, she’d have rolled her eyes. She was deluding herself if she thought she wouldn’t chase down the father she’d never met. It was mostly a matter of how her hunt would play out and whether it happened this season or next or the one after that.
Selkies didn’t have last names. She’d adopted Cameron since it was the same surname Kari used. Perhaps she’d do well to rename herself, or just stick with Raene. If she were subtle, she could find out a lot without disclosing a thing about her motives.
Or herself.
Her mind wandered as she cleaved through waves, catching the odd fish that ventured near enough to be easy pickings. If Gregor turned out to be somewhere on land, she’d need clothes, which might pose a problem…
I’ll figure things out as I go.
Her annual swim
usually took her south, sometimes as far as the continent. This year would be different. She’d remain in the North Sea until she either had answers or decided she no longer needed them.
Chapter 3
Aegir had bowed and scraped and apologized until he was blue in the face. But he’d been right about things blowing over fast. Shifters might be quick to anger, but they were equally quick to forgive. He chalked it up to their dual natures. Not much point holding grudges on sea or land. Both had a mellowing effect.
Back on the tiny Orkney Island where he’d established a comfortable lair, he strolled along the shoreline enjoying a new day. Arcadia was close. A few steps away beyond an enchanted barrier. He was plenty near enough to satisfy everyone. The Druids would let him know if they had need of him. Because they were immortal, they didn’t require robust magic. He was unclear about how they lived forever, but it had something to do with merging their essence with trees and other plants.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the rich scents of wet rocks, sand, and sea. For the moment, it wasn’t raining or sleeting, but thick, gray clouds promised precipitation at some point. Probably sooner rather than later.
He grinned to himself. The British Isles were nothing if not damp, but he wouldn’t trade them for anywhere else in this world or others he’d visited over his lengthy life.
He caught the flash and flare of magic fifty meters offshore. Had to be another Selkie enjoying an early dip. Wondering which of his kin were out and about this morning, he paid out a thread of seeking magic. He didn’t want the Selkie to know he was spying on them, so he kept it unobtrusive.
Aegir frowned. He’d been right about the Selkie part, and he ascertained it was a female, but he didn’t recognize her. Scarcely possible, since he knew every Selkie in this part of the world. They were all his subjects. He reeled in his magic, uncertain what to do next. He could let it go. That was by far the most prudent course, but he owed it to his kinsfolk to determine who swam in their waters. From time to time, another pod challenged theirs for sovereignty.
That hadn’t happened for over three hundred years, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t happening now. Damn Krise, anyway. His father was far better suited to dealing with an emergent war than he was. Aegir unwrapped the tartan he’d swathed around himself and plucked his pelt from where it lay hidden by magic. Moments later, he was swimming toward where he’d felt the unfamiliar magic.
He’d be pleasant but firm. Find out who the intruder was and see them on their way. He rolled his mental eyes. That strategy would work fine—so long as the unidentified female wasn’t a spy or the forward guard of a much larger group.
He swam a little faster, choosing a course that would intersect hers. He didn’t mask his magic, but if she was aware of him, she didn’t show it. No surreptitious glances over a shoulder when she surfaced to breathe. She appeared to be heading for the island directly northeast of the one he’d claimed. Aegir thought about it. As far as he knew, that island—barely more than an atoll—was so small no one else bothered with it.
The other Selkie, still oblivious to his presence, surfaced again, blowing salty spume. This time, she remained above the waves long enough to glance about. Aegir’s first tendency was to duck beneath the swells. So long as she remained unaware of him, she wouldn’t titrate her behavior, and perhaps he’d learn why she was in his waters.
But it felt sneaky and underhanded, so he held his position, swimming along with his snout above the waterline. Her gaze zeroed in on him. He stroked toward her. She was attractive with a well-formed head and large, liquid eyes the color of raw sapphires. Her reddish pelt was thick and lush, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she might look like in her human form.
After a brief hesitation, she pushed through the water in his direction. Had she recognized him, despite him not knowing who she was? More likely, she had a message to deliver and he fit a description she’d been given.
Damn it. This wasn’t looking particularly promising.
He blew water out both blowhole and mouth. The hard truth was he hated conflict. If he had to call in reinforcements, the sooner he got it done and this problem behind him, the better he’d like it. He barked a greeting, holding a neutral tone and hoping against hope his assessment of why the Selkie female was here was wrong.
She barked back and switched to telepathy. Seal vocal chords were incapable of human speech. “Who are you?” she demanded.
Aegir steeled himself. She wasn’t shy on guts. Good she was checking, but her intent was clear enough. He waited until he was only a meter away and used his flippers to position himself so he faced her. “I am Aegir. King of this Selkie pod. Who are you?”
Rather than answering him, she asked another question. “Well, Aegir, Selkie King, do you have a subject named Gregor?”
Aegir shook water from his snout. What an odd question. “Nay, I doona. Why? Is he someone ye seek?”
“Aye. He is my da.”
Aegir did a quick scan, keeping his magic low key. The female had to be several hundred years old. “How is it ye lost track of him?”
“I never knew him at all.” She tipped her snout at a defiant angle.
Aegir sensed now was a time to tread gently. “Then why seek him now?”
“I only just discovered who he was.”
It made sense. Aegir considered offering his assistance. He was curious about the female. “Ye never told me your name.”
“Aye. ’Tis true enough,” she agreed affably.
He tried again. “I ken all the Selkies in this region and many from other pods. Why have I never met you?”
“I spend most of my time in my human body.”
Frustration beat a path through him. He wasn’t used to Selkies sidestepping his queries. “’Tis fine and well.” His tone wasn’t nearly as friendly. “What should I call you?”
She slithered back, placing more distance between them. “Why must you call me anything?” Before he could reply, she went on, “Names presume we will get to know one another, and I doona plan to remain here long.”
Aegir straightened his spine and rose until his head and neck were visible above the waves. He infused his next words with steel—and compulsion. “So long as ye swim in these waters, ye owe me allegiance. My request is simple. I am not requesting your firstborn or a blood oath of fealty. If ye refuse such a simple thing as your name, I’ll be forced to assume ye’ve something to hide.”
She bared her teeth at him and hissed, “I owe you nothing. You’re not my king.” With a toss of her tail, she flipped over, turned, and made for the open sea.
Aegir didn’t stop to consider his actions. He barked a spell. A golden length of netting draped around the female’s thrashing form. She growled and snarled, biting at the strands, but they were impervious to her efforts. Aegir waited for her to go limp, give up. Once she did, he’d neutralize his casting. By Poseidon’s balls, all he wanted was her name.
And right now, he’d settle for her acquiescence, recognition of his sovereignty in these waters. He was starting to not give a drowned crab if he ever saw her again, but he’d taken a stand, and he couldn’t back down.
She was clearly tiring. One of her flippers was bound up in the netting and had become useless. “Tell me your name, lass, and I’ll let you go,” he urged.
“Is this how you rule?” she sneered. “By being a bully and throwing your weight around?” The other flipper snagged, and she started to sink.
Damn it! Could this be going any worse?
Aegir swam beneath her, supporting her body with his own. His next words came hard. He wasn’t in the habit of apologizing to anyone. “I’m sorry.” He dismissed his casting, but it took a few moments before the part of the net trapping her flippers disintegrated.
Once he was certain she wouldn’t drown, he surfaced and just looked at her, uncertain what to say. She balanced on her stomach, flippers extended, head bobbing with the ocean swells. He’d expected her to swim like a mad thing in an effor
t to escape, but she didn’t seem in a hurry to leave.
“Are ye all right?” he asked at last.
She lifted her head. “Aye. Thank you for asking.”
He regarded her. She was difficult and prickly and downright rude, but he didn’t want to swim off and never see her again. Despite her less than stellar traits, she intrigued him.
“Do ye have a pod of your own?” he asked.
“Nay. When last I tried to join this one, someone chased me off.”
If he’d been human, he’d have raised both eyebrows. “I never heard about a lone Selkie requesting admittance to our pod.”
“How long have you been king?”
“A verra short time. Less than five years.”
“That explains it. This happened long before.”
Talking with her raised more questions than her clipped responses answered. “I would like to know more about you, Selkie No-Name,” he said and raised a flipper to point toward his island. “If ye’d like, I have a dwelling just there. I offer food and drink.”
“In exchange for information,” she said archly.
“Aye, ’tis generally how things work,” he agreed.
“I’ll think about it,” she said, and added, “Thank you,” as an afterthought.
“Doona think too long,” he cautioned. “I am only here for a fortnight, and then I must return to my home.”
“But you said it was over there.” She mimicked where he’d pointed with her own flipper.
“Do ye know aught of Arcadia?”
“Nay. What is it?”
“The magical elements of Caledonia, the land now named Scotland. They exist just beyond the boundaries of human imagination.”
“So there’s another Scotland?”
“Aye, lassie. Not so much another Scotland, as an enchanted land beyond its borders. I am bound to spend some time every year making certain naught befalls Arcadia. This year, I was late.”