The Mermaid's Madness

by Hines, Jim C.

  “Talia, grab Captain Hephyra and come with me.” Danielle ran toward the ladder to the lower decks. She blinked as she passed into the darkness. Down here, the cannons sounded like thunder, and the motion of the ship was even more disorienting. Fighting a wave of queasiness, Danielle made her way deeper, toward the magazine where the powder was stored. There were no lanterns here, not with the damage a single open flame could cause.

  “What are we doing?” Talia asked.

  Danielle nearly collided with a boy running fresh cartridges to the guns. She stepped around and pushed through a damp curtain into the magazine.

  The room was almost pitch black, save for a few cracks of weak light that pierced the walls. A shadow of a man rose as Danielle entered. “You can’t be down here.”

  “She can if I say so,” said Captain Hephyra, entering behind Talia. “That’s one of the perks of being captain.”

  “We need a powder barrel.” Danielle was already searching the room the best she could. She bumped one barrel sitting against the wall. The top of the barrel came to her midthigh. A single push told her it was far too heavy to lift. Too heavy for a human, at least. “You saw the cannons firing at the undine. They missed, but the impact stunned one of the undine.”

  “So we need a bigger impact.” She could hear Talia’s grin.

  “Stand aside.” Hephyra grunted as she dragged the barrel onto its side and rolled it out of the magazine toward the ladder. When she reached it, she wrapped her arms around the barrel and hoisted it into the air. “We’ll teach those bottom-feeders to hack at my ship.”

  The ladder creaked from the strain. With each step, Danielle held her breath, certain Hephyra would overbalance or drop the barrel. But Hephyra climbed as though rooted to the ladder.

  Danielle ran after her. Hephyra was already rolling the barrel toward the side of the ship.

  “We’ll need a way to set it off,” Talia said.

  Danielle grabbed the linstock from the nearest gun crew. The gunner yanked it back, raising a fist before he realized who stood before him. He blanched, but didn’t release the linstock. “Princess, we’re almost ready to—”

  Hephyra cleared her throat, and the man let go as though the slow match at the end of the linstock had burned him. Danielle handed it to Talia, who hefted the iron rod in one hand.

  “Think you can hit a barrel with that thing?” Danielle asked. The slow match was a short distance back from the tip of the rod. Talia would have to throw hard enough to pierce the barrel and drive the ember into the powder.

  Talia raised an eyebrow. “You’re joking, right?”

  Hephyra raised the barrel above her head and tossed it over the rail. It splashed into the water, nearly landing on one of the undine. “If it blows so close to the ship, the explosion might crack the hull.”

  “Imagine what it will do to the undine.” Danielle backed away. “Everyone clear the starboard rail!”

  “You break my ship, I’ll use you for compost.” Hephyra turned around and shouted, “Get back and brace yourselves!”

  Talia leaned over the rail, raised the linstock, and threw. As soon as the linstock left her hand, she leaped back from the rail. Danielle heard a thunk as iron hit wood. For an instant, she thought her plan had failed.

  The sea exploded. The Phillipa pitched sideways, and even Talia stumbled. Over the ringing in her ears, Danielle could hear shouts and curses from the crew. She moved toward the rail, grimacing at the plume of black smoke rising from the water.

  Several undine already bobbed on the surface. Most appeared to be breathing, though the explosion had killed at least two. Others followed, floating to the surface and drawing cheers from the ship. The kelpies were already retreating, their head fins flared in fear. A cannon fired on the fleeing kelpies, driving them beneath the water.

  “Not bad.” Hephyra grinned and ran back to the ladder, though she didn’t bother to use it. She simply jumped, hair flying as she vanished into the darkness.

  Talia pulled Danielle down as a fresh wave of spears flew toward the ship. Some of the undine had obviously escaped the explosion. The crew returned fire, sending three crossbow bolts into the water for every spear the undine threw.

  Soon the floating bodies began to disappear, no doubt dragged to safety by the still conscious undine.

  Even from this distance, Lirea’s scream of rage was enough to make Danielle stumble. Lirea guided her kelpie around, pointing her spear and urging her people to attack. Most of the undine were underwater, making it hard to follow their movements. Their bodies were little more than pale streaks doubling back toward the Phillipa.

  At the back of a ship, the helmsman screamed as the wheel spun out of his grip. Even from here Danielle could see that his arm was broken. The undine must have cut the line to the rudder.

  “Talia, are you ready?” Hephyra climbed onto the deck, another barrel in her arms.

  This explosion was even closer to the ship. Once again undine floated to the surface, but still they obeyed Lirea’s commands.

  Danielle concentrated on the kelpies. I warned you. That horrible sound is the call of Halaka’ar. He comes to devour all in his path.

  Two of the kelpies fled. Even Lirea’s mount reared higher, head twisting about to search the water. A blue-tailed mermaid was climbing up the side of Lirea’s kelpie. They appeared to be arguing.

  “Fifty crowns to the gunner who takes that bitch down,” Hephyra said.

  The men raced to reload and fire, but Lirea was too far from the ship. Their shots splashed harmlessly in the water. Lirea’s kelpie sank from view. Peering down, Danielle saw the last of the undine swimming away.

  “We should go after them,” Talia said. “Chase them back to land and take out Lirea for good. I counted at least four more barrels in the magazine. That’s more than enough to—”

  “The Phillipa’s taking on water.” Hephyra leaned against the rail. She appeared weary. “The undine know their work. Another explosion like that will sink us.”

  Danielle stared out at the water. Patches of rust-colored foam littered the sea. Blood, she realized, bubbling up from the undine’s wounds. “Get us home,” she said, fighting a bout of nausea that had nothing to do with the movement of the ship. So many dead, human and undine alike. “The faster we get that knife to Beatrice, the better our chances of saving her.”

  Talia looked back at the main deck. Morveren was groaning and clutching her stomach. Blood and tears marked her face. “What about her?” Talia asked. “I suppose you’re going to tell me she was only protecting her granddaughter. That we should forgive her and pretend she didn’t almost kill everyone on board.”

  Behind Talia, the crew was gathering the dead and wounded. Undine spears had killed at least eight men.

  Danielle’s throat tightened when she spotted James. He lay unmoving, a spear pinning him to the deck. He still clutched his crossbow in his hands.

  “No,” Danielle whispered, staring at James. “I mean, yes, she was trying to protect Lirea. I don’t believe she’ll try to hurt us again. But I won’t risk being wrong, either.”

  Hephyra laughed as she limped toward them. “You talk like it’s your choice, Princess. Royal or not, this is my ship, and if you ordered that mermaid left free, I’d have tossed the whole lot of you overboard.” She shoved her hair back from her face and shouted, “Lock that witch in the hold, and make sure she stays gagged. Anyone not on the sheets or tending wounded had best get down to the pumps.”

  “How bad is it?” Danielle asked. “Will we make it back to Lorindar?”

  Hephyra’s grin was more than a little wild. “Ask me in a day or so.”

  CHAPTER 11

  LIREA SANG A COMMAND, drawing her kelpie to a halt. She relaxed her grip on the harness, allowing herself to fall into the water. Her surviving warriors spread into a circle around her.

  You’ve failed yet again.

  She screamed to drown out the whispers in her head, then returned to the surface. �
�How many did they kill?”

  Nilliar swam toward her. “At least twenty, with twice that number wounded.”

  You underestimated them. You should have taken every last undine and swarmed that ship until nothing was left but splinters and blood.

  “They can be replaced,” Lirea said. “Have our scouts found the nesting grounds of the other tribes?”

  “Two more tribes have been found,” Nilliar said. “We’ve collected enough gold to destroy one of them. Once the humans have poisoned their waters and killed their queen, any survivors will be free to join the Ilowkira.”

  Murderer! Conspiring with humans against your own kind! Lirea held her breath, trying to shut out the condemnation. It was the only way to unite the tribes and restore her empire. The other queens would never willingly surrender to Lirea. She had to kill them.

  She would be sure to kill the human alchemists as well. If they could poison one tribe, they could poison the Ilowkira.

  “Forgive me,” said Nilliar. “I doubted you when you told us of Morveren’s return.”

  “Lannadae led the humans to Morveren, and Morveren brought them to me.” Tears streamed down Lirea’s face. She felt so tired, and her arm throbbed. The wound had started bleeding again, and the pain flowed all the way to her hand with each beat of her heart. “They’ll never stop coming until I’m dead.”

  “Morveren’s song stopped their attack,” Nilliar said. “Perhaps she—”

  “She lured us close, making us believe the humans were helpless.” Lirea could still hear the explosions. “They want me dead. They want to punish me for killing Gustan.”

  Lirea raked her nails down her chest, remembering Gustan’s death and how the voices had urged her to drive the blade into her own body. Blood welled over her ribs. Thin and weak, neither human nor undine. Morveren’s spell had turned her into a broken, twisted, pitiful creature. No wonder Morveren sought to erase that failure, to replace Lirea with her sister. With a “pure” undine.

  Another whisper. There’s still time to make amends. Still time to finish what you began in Gustan’s bed. Take your spear, bury the point in your heart and end the pain. A single thrust, and you will finally know peace.

  “Has there been any word from Captain Varisto?” she asked.

  Nilliar shook her head.

  The human ship had showed signs of recent fighting. Most likely he too was dead. The thought brought new tears.

  “I will stop Morveren for you, my queen,” Nilliar said. “Let me lead another attack against the humans. Their rudder is disabled. We can attack in small groups, so their explosions harm only a few at a time.”

  “I should lead the attack,” Lirea said. “I can’t—”

  “The tribe needs you. We can’t risk your safety again.”

  Nilliar gently pushed Lirea away, a liberty no other undine would dare. But Nilliar was her spearbearer, and she had been Lirea’s friend for many years. “Go, my queen. Return to the spawning grounds and rest. Allow your spearbearer to fight in your stead, and I promise to put an end to Morveren’s threat.”

  Slowly, Lirea nodded. She watched as Nilliar picked fifteen warriors to accompany her. The remaining warriors passed over weapons, rearming Nilliar’s force. They swam away singing a song of victory.

  Long after that song faded, Lirea could still hear Morveren’s laughter in the waves.

  A stabbing pain jolted Snow awake. She sat up slowly, touching the back of her scalp with one hand. Dried blood crusted her hair, coming away in dark specks on her fingertips. A bloody bandage had slipped from the wound, tangling in her hair. She pulled it free.

  “How do you feel?” asked Talia.

  “Like I drank too much pixie beer.” She looked around. Where . . . oh, yes, the cabin on the Phillipa. The movement made her queasy, and a second Talia sprang into being behind the first. Snow squinted, trying to force the phantom Talia back into the original.

  Danielle was here as well. Two Danielles, rather. Sitting on blurry cots and watching Snow like a mother ready to reach out and catch her baby.

  “What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.

  “Nothing.” Snow’s vision still split the world in two, but the effect wasn’t as bad if she kept her eyes half-closed.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Talia’s voice was deceptively calm.

  Snow started to shake her head, but that only made things worse. She remembered climbing the wall to Lirea’s tower. After that, there was nothing but darkness.

  Her hands were scratched and sore. Someone had dressed her in a rather plain shirt and trousers, and her hair smelled of salt water.

  She must have hit her head. Loss of memory was normal for such a blow, as were problems with vision. Snow knew as much, but it was one thing to read about the symptoms. It was quite another to experience them. She frowned and sniffed her hair again. “Did I throw up?”

  “Twice,” said Danielle. “Once on the way back to the ship, then again in the cabin when Morveren started singing.”

  “Morveren—” That was right. Snow remembered Morveren’s song, the magic falling over the ship, pressing her down. She had tried to fight the spell, but the effort had been too much. She looked down at her sheets.

  “I changed them for you,” said Danielle.

  “Thank you.” She started to say more, but a faint buzzing sensation drew her attention to the knife on Talia’s belt. Lirea’s knife. “You got it.”

  Talia nodded. “Lirea escaped, but we have the knife.”

  “May I?” Snow held out a hand.

  Talia hesitated but passed her the knife. As soon as Snow touched the hilt, she could feel the tension within the spells. The hairs wrapped around the hilt were taut, like the lines of the sails when the winds gusted.

  Snapping those spells should be simple enough. Cut the hairs and the whole thing would unravel. Unfortunately, there was no way to know what that would do to the souls trapped inside. When lines stretched so taut finally snapped, they often did so with enough force to kill.

  She brushed her finger over the blade. The abalone felt warm and wet to the touch, as though the blood it had tasted had never truly dried. She wiped her hand on her shirt.

  “You should rest,” said Danielle. “Can we get you anything? If you’re still nauseated, I could prepare some of that tea you brought for me.”

  “I need to talk to Morveren,” said Snow. “I need her help to—”

  “Morveren tried to kill us.” Talia kept looking at Snow, then glancing away.

  “I don’t understand.” Snow stared at Talia, then at Danielle, who nodded. “She helped us. She was teaching me—”

  “Her lessons and advice nearly got you killed.” Talia turned away. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer. “She’s locked in the hold. When we reach Lorindar, you can work with Father Isaac—”

  “No. It’s at least a day’s journey to Lorindar,” Snow said, trying not to think about Morveren. “Can Beatrice afford to lose another day? I assume you’ve already spoken to Armand?”

  “While you slept,” Danielle admitted. “Beatrice is . . . she’s alive, but she’s not doing well.”

  Snow touched the front of her choker, feeling the warmth of the mirrors. She squinted, trying to force the twin knives to blur together. Beatrice was inside that knife, somewhere. “Mirror, mirror in my—no, that doesn’t rhyme.”

  “What are you doing?” Danielle asked.

  The throbbing in Snow’s head grew deeper as she concentrated. “Mirrors with your silver sheen, help me speak with my trapped queen.”

  Not her best rhyme, but the words helped. Morveren would have been disappointed, but right now Snow needed the extra power of her mirrors. Without that power, she didn’t know if she could cast even the simplest charm.

  Both Talia and Danielle leaned closer, as if they too hoped to hear Queen Bea’s voice.

  Snow did her best to shut out the sounds of the ship and the crew. There was something . . . a buzzing sound, like an arg
ument in a distant room. She couldn’t concentrate enough to make out the words.

  “I need privacy.” Snow stood, and the room shifted around her. She reached for one of the ceiling beams to steady herself, but her vision had doubled again, and she missed. Talia caught her by the elbows before she could fall.

  “You need rest,” Danielle said.

  Keeping one hand on Snow’s arm, Talia reached over to pluck the knife away. “How about I take that? You won’t do us much good if you fall and impale yourself.”

  “Actually, that might work,” Snow mumbled. “The knife was designed to hold a single soul. Stabbing more people might snap the spells completely. That might still destroy the souls, though. Hm . . .”

  She pulled out of Talia’s grip and placed one hand against the ceiling for balance. Pain pulsed through her skull, blurring her vision with every beat. “I’ll need a new bandage, too.”

  Talia moved to block the door. “Do I have to tie you to the bed to make you sleep?”

  She would, too. She was awfully stubborn that way. Snow sat back down. “Actually, Danielle, some tea might help settle my stomach.”

  “Of course.” Danielle squeezed Snow’s hand, then slipped away.

  Talia dug through Snow’s things, pulling out clean rags to use as bandages. Talia was more skilled at inflicting wounds than patching them up, but Snow knew she had also gotten plenty of practice with the latter.

  “Thank you.” Snow leaned back in the bed and closed her eyes. She could hear Talia sitting down on the trunk. “You’re staying?”

  “You think I’m going to let you sleep with that kind of wound and not keep an eye on you?”

  “I’ll be fine.” Snow took a deep breath and began to hum to herself. “I’ll sleep better alone.”

  “Since when?”

  Snow grinned despite herself. Gathering her magic as lightly as she could, she nudged Talia’s mind. “Go. Captain Hephyra could probably use you in the crow’s nest, watching for undine. You wouldn’t want them catching us off guard again, would you?”