Tears of the Sea

by Marylu Tyndall

  Damien struck her again. This time blood spurted from her nose.

  “You will pay, mermaid! You will pay.” And with that, he grabbed the lantern and marched up the stairs, taking the light with him.

  A rat approached, stopping on its hind legs to stare at her, but then skittered away as if climbing the barrel to get to her wasn’t worth the trouble.

  Hours passed in endless misery until finally the slosh of bilge in the hold softened along with the rush of water against the hull. No doubt night had descended. Hungry, thirsty, and devoid of all hope, Perdita’s head lobbed back and forth with the sway of the ship as she fell into a semiconscious state of exhaustion.

  Pain faded … hunger and thirst satiated … her irons fell … her rags transformed into a snowy wedding gown embedded with crystals. She stood in a magnificent church with rows and rows of onlookers extending behind her to massive white doors. Before her, a golden altar glittered in the light of several candles, while a choir dressed in white robes sang the most beautiful song she’d ever heard. Their faces held such joy and peace, she could hardly pull her eyes away. Stained glass rose behind them to the ceiling, depicting a land of such beauty, it made Erden look like a slum.

  A being made of light approached and stopped before her. To her right, Savion, dressed in a fine suit of black camlet and a purple robe trimmed in gold, looked like a prince. His hair was groomed and slicked behind him, and when his piercing golden eyes met hers, she wanted nothing more than to be with him. He slid his hand in hers as the man of light began reciting from a book.

  She was marrying Savion? Had he broken the curse? She shifted her legs and found them sturdy and wonderfully human, and her heart swelled to near bursting.

  Thunder bellowed outside the window. The choir stopped and murmurs spread through the crowd. Perdita’s wedding dress shriveled into filthy rags, stained and torn. Her hair became as dry as straw. She shrieked as Savion’s hand slipped from hers, then turned to see Raynar Gund standing beside her instead. He rubbed his finely-groomed goatee and smiled. Out of all the Ivans, he had professed his love most ardently. He had not only showered expensive gifts upon her, he’d spent every second of the entire month with her, groveling at her feet, loving her with his body.

  “What are you doing here, Raynar?”

  His gaze dropped to her rags. His smile turned into a smirk. “I never loved you, Perdita. I thought I did. I loved the idea of you, the passion and romance. And of course your beauty. But that is gone now.” He looked away in disgust. “And so am I.”

  His body folded in on itself and fell in a heap to the floor, a bloody mass of flesh.

  Vomit rose in her throat, and she turned away, breath heaving.

  Savion appeared at the side of the altar. She reached for him, but he shook his head in disappointment and left through a door in the back. Her glance took in the white robes of the choir, the golden altar, the light beyond the colorful glass and then down at her stained rags and filthy skin.

  “I am undone. I am unworthy.” She dropped to her knees. “Please let me die.”

  The man in light grabbed a pair of tongs and plucked a coal from the altar, bringing it to her.

  “You must choose the light,” he said, then lowered the searing coal to her lips.

  She awoke slumped against the barrel in the ship, weak and sick. The man’s words echoed through the hold. You must choose the light. But darkness surrounded her. The gush of water against the hull had ceased, and she could hear a sail flapping in the wind and footsteps far above. A mighty chain rattled before the anchor splashed into the sea.

  They had reached their destination.

  Perdita’s lips burned.

  ♥♥♥

  Savion stood at the taffrail gazing over the ebony sea. A full moon draped strips of silver atop select waves as the Scepter rose and plunged through the waters on its way to rescue Perdita. Yet again. Only, this time, Savion wasn’t entirely sure it was her doing. Not if what Verrad said was true. The ship tumbled down the trough of a swell, and Savion braced his boots further apart on the deck. Salty mist sprayed over him, dampening his skin and hair.

  If what Verrad said was true, Perdita was in real trouble. Damien Gund was not a man who dealt kindly with others. For years, Savion had suspected that he’d formed an unholy alliance with Natas. His methods of acquiring wealth not only preyed on the less fortunate but forced them into cruel subjugation to Natas’s interests. Either way, Savion could not allow the fiend to follow through with whatever evil plans he had for Perdita.

  The ship bucked again, and Savion gripped the moist railing and stared at the foam climbing the bow of the ship as if it were trying to drag him to the depths. It would never succeed. Not until he completed his mission. And only if King Abbas willed.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the men on watch and those tending sails. They’d been surprised to see him come above while it was still dark—especially Hona, who was now manning the helm. But Savion couldn’t sleep. How could he, when he had no clue what Perdita was enduring, whether she was hurt, being ravished … or worse.

  “Father, what is this woman to me?” Wind gusted over him, and he struck the railing with his fist. “I cannot seem to rid myself of her, either physically or emotionally. Are you still testing me? Or perhaps”—the word reminded him of Perdita’s archaic speech—“mayhap she is more than that. Perhaps she is the one I am to save?”

  No answer came, but Savion swore the amulet around his neck warmed. Which meant he was on the right path.

  A band of gray formed on the horizon, faintly separating sky and sea. Within minutes, it transformed into gold and coral, announcing the arrival of the sun’s reign and forcing the moon to retreat. Slicking the moisture back through his hair, Savion drew a deep breath and asked his father for strength and wisdom for whatever lay ahead. Peace swelled in his heart, and he finally felt the turmoil of the past days vanish. Wheeling, he marched to the main deck to issue orders to raise all sails to the wind.

  Two hours later, with the sun beating down on them and the deck heaving beneath them, Savion stood at the main rail, Petrok on his right, Verrad on his left.

  “Aye, that’s the island, Captain.” Verrad lowered the telescope and handed it to Savion. The slight shift of Verrad’s eyes spun a thread of distrust through Savion. Shrugging it off, he lifted the glass to his eye and brought the island into focus.

  Skull Island. At least that’s what he thought it was called. Uninhabited, except for a few peaceful natives, and with no decent harbor and not enough land for farming, it wasn’t even marked on most maps. And at the moment, it appeared no ships were in sight.

  “What possible motive could Damien have for coming here?” Savion lowered the glass and shook his head. “Are you sure this is the place?”

  “Yes,” Verrad replied, staring off into the distance. “Skull Island. That’s what he said.”

  Petrok scratched his dark head. “Perhaps Damien needs food and water.”

  Savion frowned. “Unlikely. He’s only been at sea for two days. Besides, there were plenty of other ports along the way with far more enticing entertainments. No.” Savion slapped the scope against his palm. “What does he want here with Perdita?”

  Verrad gripped the railing. “Sell her to the natives?”

  The thought had occurred to Savion. But it didn’t make sense. Natives had nothing of value Damien wanted. Why not just sell her as a slave to one of the wealthy overlords as Savion heard Damien was prone to do with women who displeased him? A woman like Perdita would bring quite a fortune.

  “Lower sail and bring us in easy, Petrok,” Savion ordered, sending his first mate barreling down to the main deck, braying orders.

  “Lay aloft! Furl main-and-fore sails! In spanker and jib!”

  “Maybe his ship needs careening or other repairs,” Nuto offered.

  Unease flooded Savion. If Damien had set sail before Savion, why wasn’t he here already? Savion scanned the small inlet o
n the lee side of the island, the most logical place to anchor. Yet he could see nothing but turquoise waters and a sandy beach framed with palms and palmettos.

  Wind raked through his hair, sending a chill down his back.

  “Bring us within thirty yards of that inlet,” Savion ordered Hona. “But no closer.” Not until he made sure Damien wasn’t around. After that, he could go about setting a trap for the scoundrel.

  With all but topsails lowered and the ship veering slightly to port, the Scepter eased alongside Skull Island—aptly named because when it had first been discovered, the beaches were lined with skulls. Apparently the original inhabitants had been cannibals.

  Sweat streamed down Savion’s back as he studied every cliff, rock, beach, and cove that gave the island its jagged appearance. “Looks like they aren’t here yet.”

  Verrad shrugged.

  Petrok appeared beside him. “Orders, Captain.”

  “Bring us into that inlet ahead. Slow and easy.” Savion glanced at the two lookouts he’d stationed above. Spyglasses to their eyes, they perused the island as he’d instructed them. Surely they would see anything suspicious before Savion did.

  Then why did he feel so unsettled? Verrad shifted nervously beside Savion.

  So his friend felt it too. “What’s got you all jittery, Verrad?”

  Verrad barely looked his way before turning back to the island, but what Savion saw in those dark eyes made his mouth suddenly dry.

  Boom!

  Savion had no time to react before the chain shot sped overhead with an eerie whine and struck the mainmast above the course. “Battle stations!” He stormed across the deck.

  Off their stern, a ship, its white sails filling with wind, emerged from a hidden alcove and sped toward them.

  The ominous crack of splitting wood etched terror down Savion’s spine as the mainmast split.

  “Look out below!” Petrok yelled. Men scrambled for cover as the mast, complete with yards, sails, lines, and tackles, came tumbling down to the deck in a tangled web of destruction.

  The Scepter staggered beneath the jolt. Howls punched the air. Two men dropped to the deck, injured. After ordering them brought below to Haddeus, the sound of gushing water drew Savion to lean over the railing. Smoke curled from a hole in the hull that was half below the waterline.

  A sailor poked his head through a hatch on deck. “We’re taking on water, Captain.”

  “Nathan, Tund—man the pumps!” Savion pointed to two men, then turned to Bart. “Take Simeon and Matias and try to patch that hole.” All the men sped off, fear on their faces.

  Bilging fast, without a mainmast, and with a list to starboard, they’d lost both speed and maneuverability. And if they couldn’t patch that hole, they’d sink within the hour. Savion glanced at the White Crypt, fast approaching on their starboard quarter. A few more well-placed shots from them, and it would be all over.

  “If we drift into the cove we’ll be trapped!” Petrok shouted. Yet the winds and current were driving them to do just that.

  “Nuto, ready the guns. Run them out on my order.” Savion would not go down without a fight. The master gunner sped off and dropped below, his commands to the gun crew echoing above.

  Savion turned to find Verrad, grabbed his shirt, and flung him against the bulwarks. “You knew this was a trap! Why? Why would you betray us?”

  Verrad clutched Savion’s choking hands, his eyes filled with rage. And something else—desperation. “I did it for you. You can defeat Damien! I know you can. I’ve sailed with you long enough to see what you can do. Your powers are like no other. He is Natas’s top man—if you kill him, you can take his place. Think of the good you can do!”

  “Good?” Savion flung his arms up. “You don’t care about doing good, Verrad. You only care about power.”

  Verrad wiped sweat from his forehead and stepped up. “How long must we sail with you before you take what is rightfully yours?”

  Savion shook his head angrily. “I am not here to rule, but to serve. When are you going to understand that, Verrad? Leave. Swim to your master.” He glanced at the White Crypt veering to block the entrance to the inlet and trap them within. “I haven’t time to deal with you now.”

  Savion turned and bellowed, “Drop the anchor, Petrok, before we ground the keel.”

  The first mate nodded and ordered the crew to task. Most of them stood frozen in place, shock and despair on their faces as they watched their enemy positioning to fire a broadside upon them. Their glances sped to Savion, longing for his assurance, hoping he had a plan.

  But he had no plan. He fingered his medallion, seeking wisdom, peace, anything. He’d been foolish to trust Verrad. His love for Perdita—his desperation to rescue her—had muffled the voice within that had warned him. Now, he would once again pay the price for loving a woman. And trusting a friend.

  The White Crypt lowered sails and glided into the inlet just twenty yards off the Scepter’s beam. Her anchor splashed to the seabed, and Damien himself, all silk and lace and glittering gold, swaggered to stand amidships and raised a cone to his lips.

  “Surrender at once or face the full force of my broadside!”

  No doubt he wanted whatever goods Savion had on board, including his ship, or he’d have already blasted them to bits. Savion drew a deep breath and gripped the railing, gazing at the colorful fish swimming about the hull. Father, I need your help. He closed his eyes and waited, listening to the lap of water, creak of wood, and whistle of wind through the rigging.

  And then it came.

  Despite the dire predicament, despite their impending death, peace bubbled up within Savion like nothing he’d ever experienced. His medallion warmed against his chest, and he knew he could never surrender. He would never surrender.

  Petrok and Hona appeared beside him, fear tightening their features.

  Savion grinned. “Let’s give the man our answer, shall we?”

  Chapter 26

  Perdita’s bones shook. The irons around her wrists rattled. The hull trembled. The blast of the cannon thundered in her ears—over and over, ringing terror through her soul. Footsteps thudded above her. Muffled shouts drifted to her ears. Even the rats sped for cover. Who had they fired upon? Was she now to be in a sea battle? Chained and defenseless?

  Sails snapped and wood creaked as the ship swerved and the deck tilted. Slimy bilge water gushed toward her filled with rats struggling to stay afloat. It slapped against the hull and splashed over her face and arms. She spit it away, nearly retching as the ship teetered in the other direction, drawing the water and rats with it. Water spilled from her barrel. Her legs began to itch.

  Zost! Not now. The itch intensified. Of all the times to turn back into a mermaid. Without the ability to walk, she’d be trapped for sure. The itching turned to pain until she thought she’d go mad if she didn’t scratch. Her feet snapped together. Scales formed, binding her skin, wrapping around her legs, marching up her thighs to claim her waist.

  A cannon roared. The hull shuddered. Perdita’s ears nearly burst. Shouts of victory blared from above. She pitied the poor fool Damien was attacking. Whoever it was, she longed for them to return fire, blast holes through the ship, or better yet, blow it to bits. She may end up in agonizing pain for several months, but at least she’d be free of Damien Gund.

  Her lungs started to collapse. If she didn’t get beneath the water soon, she’d suffer tremendous pain as she suffocated over and over. It had happened to her once before when she’d lost track of time and transformed an hour from shore.

  The purl of the water against the hull softened, the anchor released, and the ship jerked to a stop. The squawking of birds told her they were near land. Her hopes lifted.

  But Damien’s graveling voice crushed them as he ordered his foe to surrender.

  Struggling against her chains, she tried to lower her head into the barrel, gasping for a breath of water, but it only reached her belly.

  She strained to hear anything
that would clue her in to what was happening. She was rewarded by the sound of several distant cannons. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Shouts clamored from above.

  The hull exploded. Seawater gushed in through a hole just a foot above Perdita’s head. Dazed, she gulped in the liquid, filling her lungs and reviving her body. The force of it shoved her across the hold. Across the hold? The blast had broken her chains!

  Dare she hope? Had the stars shone down upon her?

  Fighting the current, she swam to the hole. Seawater slammed her. She clutched the jagged edges and struggled to pull herself through. Voices sounded behind her, muffled in the water. They were coming to inspect the damage! The hole wasn’t big enough for her.

  Thunder roared through the ship. The rising water quivered beneath what had to be Damien firing a broadside.

  She glanced back at the ladder. Lantern light trickled down it. A boot appeared. Thrusting herself into the opening, she sucked in her stomach and chest and pushed herself through. Sharp spikes cut her skin. Ignoring the pain, she popped out the other side, fully expecting someone to grab her tail and pull her back in. When no one did, she swam to the seabed just a few feet below the keel of the ship and glanced up. No one came after her!

  She was free!

  Elated, she flapped her tail and sped off into the deep, away from the island, away from Damien, and away from the hideous battle.

  Speeding quickly through the water, she watched as the corals disappeared and the seabed dropped out of view. Her wrists stung where her chains had been, and she stopped to seek out some seaweed with which to bind them. The muted sound of a distant boom traveled over her in a wave, and she peered through the murky sea toward the island. Why was she in such a hurry? She had nothing to look forward to but a broken heart, an empty cave she called home, and ten years of loneliness.

  She broke the surface and looked back, curious to see who Damien was firing upon. Mayhap she could give them some help.