The Secret of the Emerald Sea

by Heather Matthews

  The driver screamed no more, but threw down his reins and ran away. He stumbled through the night, his vision growing worse and worse until he was totally blind. She did not need to touch him, for her binding spell has already taken its effect, but she had not wagered that he would try to escape, even as his vision left him forever. She turned to go after him, and then turned back suddenly, knowing her real prey lay inside the fancy brougham where some fancy person cowered. There was no time to waste.

  * * * *

  Lord Stirling shook in the darkness. He had just been awakened from a nap by the terrible cries of the horses.

  Bandits, he thought, there must be bandits on the road, waiting to rob me, perhaps to kill me.

  The lord watched his driver stagger off into the forest, his arms outstretched against any obstacles. Lord Stirling stared in stark terror from the small carriage window as his chauffeur abandoned him.

  His servant disappeared from view as the young woman made her way to the carriage door and pulled it open. Lord Stirling stared at her in amazement, in horror. She was young, but her skin was glowing pale greenish-white, like a witch from a fairy tale, and her eyes were so hard. They were utterly devoid of compassion.

  She shook out some powder and blew it toward him as Lord Stirling drew his small folding knife, which he always kept hidden in his waistcoat. The powder sparkled and danced in the air, then settled on its target. Lord Stirling’s mouth contorted and then froze, and his eyes were wide with fear.

  * * * *

  Liesel waited, muttering the spell under her breath over and over again, closing her eyes for a second to summon all the power inside of her, and all of the magic. Then, the binding took hold, and Lord Stirling turned to stone, his whole body stiff and hard and smooth as gray marble. Even his dagger turned to stone, clenched between his fingers. Liesel ran her hand over its blade and smiled.

  She closed the carriage door and sat across from him, touching his stone face, running her fingers over his eyes. There was no noise from the horses and no other travelers on the road. The night was completely silent.

  Liesel was now free to do her work. She knew the rich always traveled with money, and now his wealth would become her own. She felt under the seats for a case or trunk, and pulled out a silver box that was fastened with a padlock. Whispering a spell, she grabbed the lock and watched it closely. After a moment, her incantation took hold, and she pried the padlock loose, feeling hope mingle with the excitement that surged through her body.

  The silver box was filled with banknotes and coins. There was more money than she could hold in her two hands. She dug out the money and hid it within her cloak, euphoria rising in her breast. The stone lord stared in horror as she tossed the box aside and searched the brougham anew. She found nothing else that could not be traced back to the rich man. She closed the carriage door, staring once more at the person she had destroyed. Who are you? Liesel asked herself as she gazed at him.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  She found his name upon his pocket watch. Lord Stirling was etched into its fine gold surface. She tossed the watch aside carelessly. His face seemed macabre now, and she felt nothing for him at all. He was but a statue, cold and lifeless, and yet, he was a work of art she had wrought with the help of the Underworld.

  Never before had her spells been so strong and so effective. Her magic was more powerful than even she had hoped it would be. Her trip to the shores of the River seemed to enrich her, and she no longer had the tired, wasted feeling she used to experience after doing spells. Instead, she felt energized. She was full of vitality and good spirits.

  It was so easy, she thought as she exited the carriage and headed into the forest, hoping to find the blind driver cowering, or injured, or dead in the dark woods. She searched for him for hours, her vial of powder now almost empty, but she thought there might be enough to finish him and silence him...forever. If there wasn’t, she would stab him to death with her own iron dagger. She did not worry about Lord Stirling at all. Her spell was a permanent one, and no man she turned to stone would ever change back to warm flesh.

  She spent the night in the forest, slowly searching everywhere she could, but the driver had disappeared. And her magic wouldn’t bring him to her or reveal his location. She hoped that his blindness would prove permanent as well, for he had seen her face, but she knew, if ever he saw her again, he would not live long enough to expose her. Besides, she would be so different if ever they met again. He might not know her at all.

  Liesel walked out of the forest as the first dawn light made the snow sparkle like diamond dust and turned the branches a truer emerald green. Her heart was light. In her cloak was a fortune, more than enough to seek out everything she needed in the city. Soon, the coach would be discovered, and she frankly relished the distress that would erupt in the village when the townspeople found their own high-and-mighty lord turned to stone.

  “I’ll soon return,” she whispered as she walked through the fields to stay off the main road. She headed toward City of Allanshire some ten miles south where fine gowns and fine spirits would rouse her and cloak her in respectability. She reached up to touch her face, as she so often did, testing the flesh to see that it was still smooth and still young.

  I’m still young, she thought, smiling. So young, and in a day or two, I will make my debut.” She could envision the face of the young man she had seen in her crystal ball, and she imagined the way it would feel to talk with him and to hold his hand. He needn’t know anything but what she wished him to know.

  He mustn’t know, she amended, hugging herself against the cold winds. He cannot know.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Blake knew he could find Jane again, now that his father was away. There were no more obstacles to keep them apart. He had held back from finding her until this day, when he knew he would have more freedom. It had been hard to wait, so hard...and he had constantly wondered where Jane was and how she was doing.

  The next morning, he put on his best clothes and walked into the village, determined to find the girl and talk with her. He told his mother he was going to visit with a friend in town, but she did not ask for more details and he did not choose to elaborate. She commented on the happy glow in his face and he said nothing. He supposed she assumed he looked so relaxed and joyful because Lord Stirling was away, and he felt ashamed for a moment.

  He waved to his mother while she watched from a window as Blake walked through the smooth snow that blanketed their hill and then disappeared from view.

  Blake walked into the Crown of Thorns, shaking the dusting of cold, powdery snow off of his overcoat. The pub was warm and inviting, and the lilting strains of Gaelic music were pleasing to his ears. He soon found a small table and sat down. He ordered ale and looked around, hoping against hope that he would find Jane in the room. It was early in the day, but the pub was already quite full. However, there was no sign of the girl anywhere. He sighed and sipped at his drink, feeling some emptiness. The waitress, an aging barmaid with painted lips and a powdered, kindly face, told him she remembered him from the Christmas pageant on Twelfth Night. She asked him if everything was fine with his drink, and he smiled and nodded.

  “Everything is fine,” he answered politely, then gathered his courage and brought her closer to her so that no one could hear. “Do you know of a girl...named Jane?” he asked quietly. “I met her recently, and I wanted to see her again...but I don’t know where she lives, or who she is.”

  “Aye, Jane,” the barmaid answered, smiling. “Our beautiful Jane.”

  Blake smiled up at her. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” he said, feeling more hopeful. This woman would tell him what he needed to know.

  “Jane lives in the old Britten farmhouse with her little brother,” the barmaid said. “It’s just past the river, near to your estate, or so I believe...”

  “Yes, the farmhouse. I have seen it on my walks,” he said excitedly. “I did not know she lived there.”

>   “She comes in often and tells our fortunes. In fact, she told me I would be married this year, and she was right,” the woman continued, raising her hand to show him a ring on her fourth finger. It was a small garnet circled with a ring of blue topazes. “Always right, she is, or so they say.”

  “She tells fortunes here?” Blake muttered, his heart dropping. His parents would never approve of such a girl, and she had seemed so elegant and ladylike to him.

  “Yes, she is poor, and all alone with her small brother, and she tells the fortunes to make money.”

  Blake had never known what it was like to want for anything. He had never worked a day in his life. He wondered what he would do if he had to earn his keep, and how difficult it would be to survive. He felt a new respect for the girl, who cared for her brother as best she could, and lived in that ramshackle farmhouse with its crumbling roof, without even a mother or father to care for her. How hard her life must be. He remembered her fine gown, though, in violet and white, and her shiny boots. Perhaps business was good.

  “How much is it to have your fortune told...by Jane?” he asked, looking down at the table. He had some money, after all, and he could help her.

  “Whatever you can pay, Milord,” the woman said, smiling. “Jane is not greedy. She is a right little girl, so polite and sweet, and she never turns anyone down, no matter how little they have.”

  “When will she be here?” he asked. “When does she come here?”

  “She’ll come in an hour or two. She always does,” the barmaid answered. “Just have another cup of ale and enjoy the music, and Jane will come, along with her little brother, and you’ll be able to speak with her then.”

  “Thank you,” Blake said, putting a gold coin in the woman’s hand. “You’ve been a great help to me, and I appreciate it.”

  * * * *

  The barmaid smiled and tucked the coin in her apron. The young lord was generous, and so handsome. Jane was a lucky girl, although she doubted that his parents would see a fortune-teller as a proper bride for their boy.

  She’s the equal of any lady I’ve seen, the woman thought defiantly. But the upper classes rarely mixed with the lower, and that was the way life was in their little town...and all over the world. Jane would discover this in her own good time, for the barmaid had seen much in her years at the tavern, and she knew the ways of the world.

  Let her have a little love. She’s a teenage girl, what is the harm? She stared down at her own ring. Nonetheless, as she walked back to take care of her other customers, she worried for both of the young people. She wondered what would happen if the couple truly fell in love?

  * * * *

  Blake waited, his palms moist. Waiting for Jane was pleasure and pain. It was pure anticipation, and he found the minutes moved as slowly as molasses as he drank his ale and tried not to stare down at his gold pocket watch. Women tried to speak to him and he was polite, but distant, with them all. He did not want anyone else, even for light conversation.

  He was sixteen now, and would soon be seventeen, and he was in love for the first time. He wanted only to be with the fair-haired girl who seemed like a princess to him with her alabaster skin and her green eyes. These other girls were nothing to him.

  The girls retreated, disappointment and some bitterness clear on their features. He heard them whisper among themselves. They wondered what he was doing there, if not to talk with them and dance with them? He flushed slightly as they watched him sullenly, but the mere thought of Jane seemed to give him to courage he had never had. The courage to face disapproval without crumbling.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jane drew on her crimson cloak, which brought color to her fair cheeks, and she walked beside her little Cupid as they made their way from the farmhouse to the pub. The Cupid was uncharacteristically quiet on this late afternoon, and so they walked in companionable silence for most of the way. Jane did not feel like telling fortunes, but tell them, she must. She had not seen Blake since they shared their carriage ride, and she felt sad and she longed for him. She was feeling deprived of the joy and excitement he brought to her life.

  She leaned down and picked up the Cupid, so that he would not have to struggle against the thick snow with his little legs. He nestled in, burying his face against her fragrant throat, and telling her that she smelled like lavender. She enjoyed holding him, though he was quite heavy...heavier than he looked. She thanked the gods that she had him, at least, when she had lost everything else. Her grandmother, her friends in Royalton, her father, her mother...all were gone, and only the Cupid remained. As mysterious and difficult to understand as he could be, she continued to love him with all of her heart.

  They reached the entrance to the pub and Jane pasted on a smile so that the villagers would not see her in a downcast mood. She put down the boy and felt for the deck of cards in her pocket. They were cold and solid in her hand.

  “How long shall we stay here in Lynnshire?” she asked the Cupid suddenly. She felt weary to the bones of this place, and she was tired of waiting for whatever was supposed to occur. Blake had not contacted her. He was one more facet of her loneliness now.

  “Not much longer, Jane,” the Cupid whispered soothingly. “I know it is hard sometimes for you, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Jane answered, reaching up to dab at tears that welled in her eyes. “I am homesick, that is all.” She pulled the heavy wooden door and the warmth and color of the pub cheered her a little. She smiled her brightest smile at everyone. She took her place alongside the musicians who always announced her to the pub patrons. She was known as the little girl “who will tell you your future.”

  She smiled, somewhat wryly, and looked around her. Often, there were new faces from other towns, and interesting people. She felt her face grow hot as she spied Blake at a table near a window. He was smiling and quietly watching her.

  Why must he see me like this, like an old gypsy woman? she thought, mortified. But his expression was friendly. She could see that there was no judgment at all in his clear brown eyes. She smiled back at him, her heart melting once more just at the sight of him.

  The first villagers came close to ask their questions, and their inquiries always seemed to be they same. They wanted to know about their farms and their animals and their romances, and so she spread out her deck of Tarot cards on the wooden table, doing her readings and listening to the words the Cupid whispered in her ear. She felt elated when Blake made his way toward her, lining up with the others who always drank and made merry while they waited.

  Jane tried to concentrate on her work, but she was always conscious of the boy’s eyes, and it made it difficult to focus on her tasks. Only two more fortunes and it will be his turn, she thought anxiously. But what will the Cupid tell me to say? I will not tell Blake anything bad. I will not lie, though, either... I cannot say for sure just what I will do.

  Chapter Thirty

  Neptune waited for news of his daughter, and he spent his days organizing his mermaids as they repaired the damaged ships and fixed the things that had been destroyed during the storm he caused. He also made plans to assemble an army of mermen who would show the creatures of the sea his strength and power as they marched on the seabed with their ceremonial tridents raised high in the air.

  Neptune needed his army and all the pomp and circumstance he could muster. He felt despondent as he thought of his princess, who certainly hated her father, and it weakened him from within. Minerva had suggested he find some new interests to keep him occupied while she searched for the girl. The witch who threatened his daughter was much on his mind as he put his mermen though their paces. They might yet be needed to battle this ugly crone whose cruel spirit could hurt his Jane. He tried to forget all the things he had done and all the mistakes he had made, but it was hard to forget. He knew his daughter was terrified of him, and that he had placed her in great danger by losing his temper and driving her away to that strange island, and then back to the mainland
, which was so confusing and dangerous.

  The mermen were strong, rough and ready lads with muscular tails and strong arms and chests not unlike his own...but they were young. They lived separate from his mermaids, in an encampment near a coral reef. They were always a part of the festivals and celebration under the sea, and they consorted with his mermaid courtiers when he gave them permission to do so.

  Neptune was changing, and he, himself, knew this, too. Gods did not age and they lived forever, but their experiences and emotions affected their development, and he was no exception to this rule. Neptune knew he was not the same god he had once been. He needed these youthful soldiers to help him if and when the time came. He concentrated on outfitting his new army as best he could, and he armed them with strong shields and magical spells that would allow them to walk on land if they must—at least for short periods of time. He used the piles of treasure he found in shipwrecks, melting the precious metals down through his magic, and turning the gold and silver and bronze into weapons and chain mail for his brave soldiers.

  The armor Neptune created was wonderful. It resembled the scales of fish and it glinted silver and gold in the murky tides. The metallic scales covered the torsos and upper arms of the mermen, and the armor was so flexible that it seemed to shift and move as the men did. Neptune felt fierce pride as the mermen marched and chanted, and the mermaids seemed quite transfixed by the whole unique display. They told their king they loved to see their consorts decked out in such resplendence, and so they cheered and sang as the army marched along the seabed.

  But some of the wiser mermaids spoke their minds, telling Neptune they felt unease in their hearts as they thought of their men and what would happen to them if they were forced to fight on the land. The mermen, like the mermaids, were not full-blooded gods. They could be injured—though they were much stronger and more resilient than human beings—and they could die. Why should Neptune need an army, they inquired gingerly, when he already ruled the seas with absolute dominance? What was he planning?