by Brandon Witt
“Are you sure she’ll be okay?”
Again Therin smiled. “Lelas has been on her own longer than you have been alive, my son.”
True as that might be, the image of the hammerhead bearing down on her rose to mind. The four of us hadn’t been out of sight of each other the entire time, except for a very few times when needed for hunting purposes. It seemed too risky to change that behavior now, especially when we were so close to where another tribe of mers was supposed to live. Wrell had told us to be ready for conflict when we found the Scarus tribe, although he didn’t think there would be much trouble since he’d already established contact all those years ago. Even with sharks and hostile mer tribes, I was still getting to know this world under the waves, and Therin was right, Lelas had been doing this for nearly three times the length I’d been alive.
A picture of Lelas came into focus—her eyes bright with laughter, her shoulder-length honey hair a cloud around her face, her lavender tail flicking as she darted in and out of the school of sea turtles.
I nodded in Wrell’s direction. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure she’s having a grand ole time.”
He gave a small dip of his chin in affirmation, then turned and took off toward the looming mountains in front of us.
“So, Wrell. That picture you showed me, the opening in the island with all the coral and anemones and everything, that’s where you found the Scarus tribe before?”
The image formed again, this time Wrell’s heavily muscled body squeezed through the opening, his lionfish quills flat against his body to keep from getting caught in the coral.
As big as Wrell was, I was bigger. Not a ton, but enough that the prospect of squeezing into the small opening gave me a dubious feeling. With a sigh and a glance toward the empty ocean at our back in case Lelas was on her way, I took off, following the mermen.
The closer we got, the more schools of brilliantly colored fish we encountered, and the more sea turtles. Lelas would have had as much fun with us as she was with her little family of turtles, and been a lot safer. It had been nearly an hour since she’d gone on her own, and I was guessing we were a little more than twenty minutes away from arriving where the Scarus tribe would be. Even from where we were, I could see the massive coral reef that surrounded so much of the islands. The island mountains towered over us already, and we swam over or between enough smaller mountains that I’d lost count. Even if Lelas was already on her way, if she was swimming closer to the seafloor I wouldn’t be able to see her due to the terrain. Grandma’s voice echoed in my mind, telling me to leave her in God’s hands. Typically, I’d thrust such a suggestion away, but it was such a pleasant sensation to have a sense of Grandma with me at the bottom of the sea, that I let her words repeat to the point it became a mantra. Before long, I felt my worry subside and allowed myself to get caught up in the increasing beauty of the tropical world around us.
I was distracted by the very different but equal beauty of Wrell’s flexing back muscles as he swam a few feet in front of me, when he came to an abrupt stop. The quills along his spine and sides flared, increasing his already massive form and his dangerous allure. As beautiful and ethereal as he became, I halted instantly. I’d never asked what would happen if I ran into Wrell’s spines, but I knew it wouldn’t be pleasant.
It took me a second to notice that Wrell had his spear raised. Only the tip of it poked out above his quills from my perspective. Glancing over, I saw Therin had his blade gripped tight, and even his fins were flared, though the effect was more glittering gold and less pointed barbs. When neither of them moved, I swam around Wrell and looked in the direction that held their attention. At first I didn’t see anything, just more of the multiplying flora and towers of rock and coral that looked almost man-made around us. When a motion finally caught my eye, I nearly laughed. This was what had two seasoned fighters like my father and Wrell tense and ready to rumble?
About fifty feet ahead, nearly surrounded by the base of the stone columns, the top of a head peered out from a hole in the sand, long dark hair flowing up. It looked like a troll doll I’d had as a kid. Maybe a cloud moved all those miles away in the sky and let sun in, or maybe I’d just been unobservant, but a flash of silver drew my eye to a long, narrow spear that shot up nearly ten feet among the kelp. A second later, another glimmer revealed a second spear and a dark hand holding its base. It looked like we’d found the Scarus tribe sooner than expected.
After the notion of laughing had subsided, I positioned myself in a more threatening manner. I tried to emulate Dad and Wrell, who were both still expanded like puffer fish, at least as much as I could, considering all I had to puff up were chest muscles—not nearly as impressive as deadly quills.
After a moment, I let my muscles deflate. Clearly, this Scarus mer was afraid of us. We’d obviously been seen, and the mer was staying safely in his hole in the ground. Another metallic flash and I could see both of the spears were wavering slightly. Without Therin and Wrell’s reaction, I would have assumed the mer was trembling in fear, but both Dad and Wrell impossibly flared even more. The webbing between Wrell’s spines looked ready to rip. I acquiesced to my commitment of basing my reactions on what the other mers chose to do, even though I wanted to swim up to the poor guy—at least I assumed it was a guy from the furrowed brows—and tell him we were here in peace. Probably followed by asking him to take us to his leader.
The three mers remained in their individual states of suspension, waving spears and stretching quills and fins to the limit. I have to admit, as majestic as both Wrell and Dad looked, all three of them seemed a little silly. If this was the conflict that Syleen had said would ensue when mer tribes encountered each other, I was going to have to give her a hard time when I saw her next. Maybe.
Still enlarged to the max, Wrell drifted forward a few feet, though I couldn’t see how he managed to move with his tail in such a state. Instantly, a long body shot out of the hole in the ground, zooming up fifteen feet into the water above us, both spears poised to skewer Therin and Wrell into the sand. Wrell paused again, spear still raised, but not looking any closer to releasing it than before.
While not as warrior-looking as Wrell, the merman that emerged from the columns no longer looked humorous, nor did he in any way resemble a troll doll. His long black hair streamed down his body and nearly all the way down his tail, which had to be close to seven feet long, before even reaching the crescent-shaped fin. His tail was a brilliant aquamarine green with an electric-blue block-like pattern down the front of him, and didn’t have any of the fins over the surface that both Wrell and the members of the Chromis tribe had. His skin was mocha brown, and his face had a handsomely boyish quality that would have had me guessing he was a teenager, except for the fact I’d thought the same thing about my sixty-four-year-old Lelas. Fury flamed across his face, and his arms trembled as they tightened their grip on the spears, whether in fear or aggression, I couldn’t tell. While he looked ready to kill, something about him made me think of a kid sent out to fight his father’s battles. Probably just another aspect of his deceiving baby face.
Sure enough, his voice trembled as it entered my mind, even though each accented syllable was heated with hostility. “I have already given warning. If you choose to not seek retreat, you will have chosen to die at my hand.”
An image of a beautiful mermaid coursed behind my eyes. Her skin was the same hue as the young warrior in front of her, her tail the same shape but the color a deep reddish-brown. Her long black hair was nearly hidden from view by the ropes of pearls and thin chains of gold that drifted down from the narrow golden band across her head.
The merman’s expression shifted from anger to confusion and back again. His dark eyes darted back and forth between Wrell and Therin, then finally came to rest on me, deciding I was the source of the vision. Apparently, he’d never encountered a mer from the Volitan tribe and experienced their unusual communication. He flinched back as his gaze drifted down, taking in my peni
s and legs where a tail should have been. Both spears were instantly trained on me.
Before I could react, Wrell waved his spear above his head and then let it fall to the ground. Only hesitating a few moments longer, Therin followed suit, his blade landing in a small billow of sand. Neither made any other motion, but an image of all six of our hands stretched palms up was shared between the four of us.
“We mean no harm. We only seek help and information.” Therin’s words were in his ever-smooth, calm cadence, despite the fear that managed to escape his eyes.
The mer jabbed one of his spears, and I cringed, expecting to see it soaring toward me. “No harm? You bring a human! There is nothing but harm!”
I relaxed gradually as I realized he still held on to both of his weapons, and chastised myself. The next time I thought I was going to get impaled, I should do more than cringe. At least throw myself to the side or something. I called the fire up from my core but managed to keep it at a level that kept me from boiling the water or letting off any vapors for the mer to see.
“He is my son.”
The mer tore his gaze from me to look at Therin, the scorn in his tone thick. “Your son is a human? I may be young, but I am no fool.”
Therin’s words were quiet, moving as smooth as honey, taking an attitude that was meant to be soothing, not condescending. “If he were only human, how would he still be living?”
I swear the merman started to roll his eyes, then glanced up toward the surface too many fathoms above us, then back to me. Uncertainty crossed his face. “How did he make me see a Scarus female in our queen’s adornment?”
Therin motioned toward Wrell. “That was from this merman. He is called Wrell. He is from the Volitan tribe, and that is the manner of their communication.”
The merman narrowed his gaze at Wrell. “Why show me a female in such a manner?”
Again the image came to mind, this time showing Wrell bowing before her.
“He is showing you that he has met your queen—letting you know that we mean no harm to you or the Scarus tribe.’
“Queen Akamaii?”
Therin and the Scarus merman looked toward Wrell, who nodded. His quills lowered somewhat in relief.
The merman’s face twisted in scorn. “My youth makes me not a fool.”
Therin looked at Wrell in concern. Wrell gave a nearly imperceptible shrug of confusion.
“For the final time, you should leave or your life will be forfeited.” He looked back at me, as if just remembering the strange creature that had wandered into his ocean. For a moment his anger seemed to fade and curiosity took over. No sooner had it shown itself than it was gone, determination to make us follow his directions back in place.
Therin’s tail had returned to its typical relaxed state, and the rest of his body was at ease. It might have had more of an impact if Wrell didn’t continue to look so threatening beside him, not that he could help it. “We have traveled far to seek help from the Scarus tribe. We require nothing more than words and knowledge.”
“You dishonor the Scarus by breaking the agreement to give our people freedom to live away from the evil that has permeated the other tribes.”
I glanced at Therin out of the corner of my eye, afraid to look away from the merman’s spears for more than the briefest of moments. Therin neither seemed surprised nor offended by the words. “We mean no dishonor. We do not wish to break any agreements or promises offered by our ancestors. We only seek to help our fellow tribesmen that have been stolen. We had hoped your tribe may have wisdom that may be of assistance.”
For the first time, the merman’s spears drooped to a more relaxed position. Not enough that it made me want to not keep my fire at the ready, but better than nothing. “Your tribes have had mers that have been taken?”
Therin nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
“Stolen by humans?”
“We believe so.”
The same image Wrell had shown me so many weeks ago of Ventait, the redheaded merboy, entangled in nets and being pulled aboard a boat, caused all four of us to pause.
At the expression on the Scarus merman’s face, I nearly asked if the vision looked familiar but caught myself in time. Hearing from the human-looking creature with no tail probably wouldn’t help our cause.
Therin was apparently in the same frame of mind as I. “Have you had Scarus mers that have suffered the same fate?”
The merman looked like he was considering answering when his eyes flitted behind the three of us and his spears returned to their aggressive position.
I knew what I’d see before I turned to follow the merman’s gaze. Sure enough, Lelas had rounded one of the smaller mountains a few hundred feet away. She paused as she took in the scene playing out before her.
I saw her turning and swimming away as fast as she could, darting back behind the safety of the foothill. I wondered if Wrell had let the Scarus merman see the vision or if he’d been able to just communicate his directions for Lelas to the three of us.
She was far enough away the movement was barely discernable. The only betraying factor was her swaying hair as she shook her head at Wrell’s suggestion. She swam slowly toward us, her form growing larger and clearer the closer she got.
It took all my power not to tell her to go back, but I was afraid of how the merman would react.
A large school of bright-yellow fish swam in between us and obscured Lelas’s face for a hearetbeat, and then she was with us. Her expression was neither afraid nor hostile, not that I could imagine Lelas ever looking aggressive.
She paused as she pulled up beside me. She didn’t look over but reached out and lightly touched the side of my arm with her fingers. “Do not answer in words, Brett. I speak only to you. I assume, from the look of things, that no hostility has transpired, only the posturing of males?”
I nodded slightly, despite Lelas’s atypical judgmental tone.
She cocked her head slightly at the Scarus merman. “Very good. He does not seem to follow through on the threats he promises.”
She started to swim past me, and I reached out, clasping her upper arm.
She turned only slightly. “I am in no danger. I will be careful.”
When I still didn’t let go, she arched a brow as if to ask if I really wanted to go there with her. I released her arm grudgingly.
Lelas swam forward a couple more feet before stopping, still much closer to the three of us than the merman. She held out both palms in the same manner that Wrell had visualized secones before.
Both Therin and Wrell had flared their fins once more but remained stationary, ready to act if Lelas needed them but trusting her to not act rashly.
When at last I tore my eyes off Lelas and lifted my gaze to the Scarus, I wasn’t overly surprised that the man’s spears were nearly parallel to his sides. I couldn’t imagine anyone who could hold a weapon on Lelas. There was nothing threatening about her. However, wouldn’t she be the perfect distraction to put the enemy at ease while someone rallied for an attack? It seemed strange that a warrior out on guard duty would be so easily convinced of Lelas’s pure intention and allow himself to be distracted in such a way.
“We mean no harm, warrior.” Lelas’s tone was soft, yet held a firm note of authority. “We come only to ask for wisdom that may help our people.”
The Scarus slowly sank down from his lofty height above us in the kelp. His spears hung loosely in his hands at his sides. He paused once he was level with us before he drifted toward Lelas with a couple of light flicks of his crescent fin. When Therin and Wrell bent simultaneously to retrieve their weapons, the merman paused in his approach and raised his spears back into position.
Lelas looked behind her and smiled. “I am fine. In this instance, your weapons will lead to our undoing, not our safety.”
Both men hesitated but complied. Wrell stayed tense, his quills trembling with adrenaline, ready to rush toward her at the slightest danger.
After a moment, the Scarus ret
urned his attention to Lelas and began to swim toward her once more.
He paused less than three feet from her, an unreadable expression crossing his face. I couldn’t be sure if he stopped because he’d arrived as close as he wanted to be or due to the twitching muscles that bulged in Wrell’s arms. If he noticed them, he didn’t let on, never losing focus on Lelas.
The merman raised his hand from his waist but paused in midair. “May I?”
I had no idea what he wanted, but Lelas only nodded.
The Scarus lifted his hand the rest of the way to cup Lelas’s honeyed hair and let it fall from his fingers.
As his gaze drifted down her neck, over her breasts, and along her tail, I realized the water was beginning to bubble around me. The man finally tore his lust-filled gaze away from Lelas and looked over at the scene I was making.
Following his example, Lelas turned toward me. “I am fine, Brett.” She smiled encouragingly. “Truly. You must remain in control of yourself.”
I’d never had a sister, but this had to be what it felt like watching a guy undress her with his eyes. It was taking all my power not to rush over and wring the guy’s neck, if I didn’t set him on fire first.
Therin interrupted my line of vision, his icy-blue eyes locking with mine, his words only meant for me, although I wasn’t sure how I knew that. “This is not the time for a display, my son. Lelas is fine. We are here. If a situation arises with the Scarus in which your ability is needed, it would serve us more effectively if such a skill were to be kept a surprise.”
Although I couldn’t see him, I could hear the merman, his tone awestricken. “You are beautiful.”
The boiling thickened around me once more. Therin looked down at my hands, then back into my eyes. “Are you certain you only experience feelings for other males?”