“What kind of shark do you transform into?” Muireann said, her tone completely serious. While Barnabas, and to a lesser extent Artem, both looked ready to begin a new round of teasing, Muireann’s earnestness felt simultaneously out of place, and also a pleasant change of pace.
“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “I’m a shark. I’m big, I have a shark head. I mean I know I’m a pretty normal shark, since I have the, like, the triangle type head. I’m not a hammerhead or something weird.”
“That narrows it down so much,” Artem said. Then, more seriously: “I remember the attack on the island… that swarm of were-sharks varied significantly. You could’ve been bitten by any number of types of sharks.”
“I don’t even know how it works, the water breathing,” Yuri said. “Does it matter, what species of shark I transform into?”
“If you’re a bull shark you should be able to breathe fresh water,” Echo said. The whole group looked at her like she’d begun reciting Shakespeare from memory. “What? I read a lot of books about sharks as a kid. I was a surfer. It was research.”
“So, I guess we hope you’re either a bull shark or that were-sharks in general can do fresh water,” Barnabas said.
“How do we find out?” Yuri said.
Artem threw Yuri in the river using some sort of martial arts leverage technique Yuri had no chance of preventing.
He landed with a splash and disappeared beneath the murky water.
His friends waited.
“I think I should go get him,” Echo said.
“Wait,” Muireann said.
They watched as Yuri, now in his bulky shark-man form, rose out of the water like a river monster. His jet-black eyes scanned the group as water poured off his snout, his wide, toothy grin gleaming white and deadly.
The were-shark spoke. His voice was broken, gravelly, the sound of running water and crashing waves.
“I can breathe river water,” Yuri said in a voice that was barely his own, the words partially mangled by those sharp, triangular teeth.
“Good to know,” Barnabas said, sounding vaguely sheepish.
“I wasn’t a horrible person before I met all of you,” Artem said. “I’ll take point.”
The Amazon put a hand on the hilt of each of the swords on his belt and began walking up river. Yuri nonchalantly turned around and dove, surprisingly gracefully, back beneath the water.
Echo and Muireann shared a beleaguered glance.
“I’m just working on the assumption this is how they always are,” Muireann said.
“Most of the time, yeah,” Echo said. “You want water’s edge, or a little further into the forest?”
Muireann gestured at herself.
“Water is sort of my thing. If you don’t mind,” she said, peering over her shoulder at the water as Barnabas awkwardly dragged the dinghy back into the river.
“Sounds good,” Echo said. “Be safe.”
The ondine smiled and strode to the very edge of the river, singing softly to herself.
“Yup,” Echo said to herself. “This is a terrible plan.”
Chapter 29: Shark meets crocodile
Yuri was loath to admit it, but he’d genuinely started to enjoy the grace and strength his shark-man form offered.
Like right now, for instance. He swam up river against a powerful current with ease, barely noticing the river pushing him toward the sea. And the water itself was not particularly clear, murky with silt and vegetation, but his shark senses were almost supernatural. He didn’t need his eyes to tell him his depth, or how close he was to the shore, or if there were fish swimming near him. It was almost a sort of swimming extra-sensory perception, and it made him feel safe, he realized. Not strong. Safe. He didn’t feel dangerous. This form enabled him to be without fear.
I’m not afraid, and that alone makes it almost worth it, he thought. I never realized how afraid I was my whole life. It’s like a chain removed from my heart that I never knew existed.
I was afraid the whole time after the were-sharks killed Meredith, he thought. Afraid on the Island of Unwanted Things. Afraid on the island of nymphs, afraid when the mermaid tried to drown me. How did I get this far being afraid all the time? Yuri asked himself. Yes, transforming into a were-shark was terrifying. It nearly killed him, literally. It came with a level of body horror he didn’t think truly existed.
But now?
All the waters of the world are mine.
My mother spent my entire life trying to save me from drowning, Yuri thought. Everything she did was meant to keep me safe from the sea. But in the end, I passed through fire and blood, and came out the other side… well, a monster, of sorts. But the monster you want on your side.
I think I’m happy, Yuri thought, somewhat surprised at the idea. Am I allowed to be happy? Are were-sharks ever happy? I don’t remember ever meeting one in a particularly good mood. Even Whitetip, my tutor, was sort of always vaguely melancholy. I don’t think sharks have a happy status.
And that was the moment he swam full-speed into a giant log.
Something Whitetip had warned Yuri about, but still caught him off-guard, was the bane of were-sharks: they had an obscene amount of nerves in their snout. Just like their ordinary shark counterparts, punching a were-shark in the nose was a good way to put him on the defensive, and Yuri was not swimming slowly when he struck the log face-first at full speed. His vision flashed white with pain, his brain flaring with panic, his whole body jerking back involuntarily. He swore out loud underwater, which was an ineffective endeavor as nothing but bubbles drifted out of his mouth.
Okay, he thought, maybe the shark senses aren’t quite infallible. I’ll work on that.
Then the huge log moved.
Oh, great, Yuri thought. Nothing is ever simple, is it?
He turned toward the surface to get a better look at the now-twisting log, clearly not a fallen tree, and found himself face to face with a black-scaled crocodile at least twenty feet long. Its golden eyes burned into him not with anger, but with an almost human level of annoyance, as if it were as irritated to see him as he was to see it.
And then the crocodile clamped a set of jaws onto Yuri’s torso.
Yuri felt himself dragged swiftly below the water again, pushed down into the silt, the crocodile twisting as if trying to break his neck. For better or for worse, the were-shark form was difficult to damage, though Yuri was unhappy to see some of his own blood dirtying the river water as the crocodile sank its teeth into his flesh.
The initial shock of the attack wearing off, Yuri resigned himself to a fight. I really didn’t want to do this today, he thought. With a palpable sense of distaste, he sank his wide, toothy jaws into the nearest part of the crocodile’s body.
The crocodile’s reaction was, of course, exactly as expected.
The beast rolled again, its jaws clenching harder onto Yuri rather than loosening in shock. Yuri, now legitimately in agony, did the same, biting back and adding his clawed fingers to his attack, dragging them across the black scales, drawing dark reptilian blood. He threw a knee once, twice, into the softer underside of the crocodile, and now the creature began to let go, its jaw slackening just enough for Yuri to get a powerful hand in between himself and the teeth and start to push.
Now the crocodile was on the defensive, thrashing and snapping, finally releasing Yuri entirely. Everything about the beast’s actions told him it wasn’t used to prey that put up a fight—a croc this big, Yuri thought, probably had no natural enemies other than humanity to worry about. He swam backward, trying to get his bearings, still not quite sure in the murky waters which way was up. He went toward the light, trying to put some space between himself and the crocodile.
The river around him swelled, and Yuri knew immediately he wasn’t alone. He dodged to the left, spiraling out of the way as the enormous reptile darted past, shockingly fast for such a massive creature. Yuri dove deeper, away from the air, assuming the crocodile would need to return to the surf
ace to breathe, hoping this might buy him some time.
Buy time for what? Yuri asked himself. And do I really want to try to kill this thing? What if it’s just defending its territory? What if this is the crocodile the river beings we’re looking for ride? Didn’t Barnabas say something about black crocodiles?
Yuri’s internal conversation lasted just long enough for him to stop paying attention. The crocodile clamped back down on him with breathtaking swiftness and began to rocket toward the surface once again.
I should have stayed on my island, Yuri thought. No good ever comes from hanging out with this crew.
Together, the crocodile and were-shark shot out of the river, Yuri still held tight in the croc’s jaws, the great river beast rising so that more than half of its entire length was airborne. Yuri slashed and clawed, unable to get his teeth close enough to the crocodile to do any damage.
And then he realized what the creature had in mind.
“Oh, come on,” Yuri said, his words slurred by the wide jaws and pointed teeth of his shark form.
And then the crocodile, with almost comedic grace, threw the were-shark in a rainbow-like arc away from the river and into the forest.
Chapter 30: The pink dolphin
Echo skirted the edge of the river as best she could, realizing, as Artem faded into the tree line, how long it had been since she was really and truly alone.
Not that she had ever had much time alone. She lived with her mother, she worked with Yuri, there was a constant flurry of people in her life long before the Atlantis troubles happened, and since then, they’d barely had a moment to rest. Artem and Barnabas were constant fixtures. During their downtime, they were on New Tortuga, which was a bustling beehive of people.
I miss surfing, she thought. Maybe when this is all over, I’ll be able to surf again.
But that thought led her to remember home, the tall flames as she watched her house burn to the ground from the deck of the Endless, her life, really, burning to the ground as well. She’d left her surfboard there, of course, alongside all normalcy. I still don’t know if I can even go home, she thought, not for the first time. Have Yuri and I been declared dead? Did anyone ever look for us? Do they still? Or were we, like so many people, just swallowed up by the chaotic strength of the sea, ghosts on the waves never to be seen again?
But still, here I am, she thought, in this wondrous place. A place that is not wondrous because it’s hidden, or magical, or out of some myth. I’m walking alongside the Amazon River. Fearlessly, because that is the gift my father gave me, unbreakable skin, a warrior’s instincts. Golden sunlight weaved its way through the canopy and dappled her skin. The sound of animals, of birds and insects and a million other creatures she couldn’t identify, was almost deafening. This place just exists, Echo thought. This mighty waterway splitting a continent in two.
Humanity’s ruining this place too, though, she thought. Her mind flashed to the room in Atlantis where all the sick and dying were hidden, the ones suffering from illnesses born from human poisons in the ocean. Maybe I don’t want to go home. Maybe after seeing all this, there’s nothing for me there anymore.
She caught a flicker of something out of the corner of her eye, movement on the water. She darted skillfully forward, moving deftly through brush and root. Maybe it was just Yuri surfacing for a moment, she thought. But then she saw it again, an arching body, baby-pink and perfectly smooth, playfully making its way up river. A long snout broke the surface again, large, round eyes, an unmistakable face.
“I swear I thought calling them ‘pink dolphins’ was a semantics thing,” Echo said to herself. The dolphin made eye contact then dove below the again. Echo looked to her left and right but saw no sign of Artem or Muireann. She scanned the river and spotted Barnabas in the skiff, but he was too far away for her to catch his eye.
Carefully, Echo put her feet into the water, preparing to swim out. This is stupid, she thought. That’s probably just a legitimate, normal, Amazon river dolphin. Just because they say the yacuruna can become pink dolphins doesn’t mean all pink dolphins are yacuruna.
“It can’t possibly be this easy,” Echo said.
“That depends on what you’re trying to accomplish,” a new voice said.
Echo whipped around to see a newcomer standing not fifteen feet from her. The person was androgynous, willowy and tall, with sun-reddened skin and dark hair that fell like a waterfall down their back. They wore a thin Henley shirt, clinging to their skin with moisture, and pants made of a light, pale fabric, also indicating they’d been donned while the wearer was still wet. The newcomer was barefoot and wore only a single adornment, a bracelet of wood and bone on their left hand.
“Oh. Hi,” Echo said.
“I want to congratulate you and your people on being incredibly subtle,” the newcomer said. “I’m being sarcastic, of course. You’re just slightly below loggers for avoiding attention.”
“We were actually hoping to… are you the yacuruna?” Echo said.
“I am a yacuruna,” the being said. “Although it’s been so long since I’ve seen another of my kind, I may very well be the only yacuruna. I hope that’s not the case, but here where the river ends, I am alone.”
“That’s terrible,” Echo said.
The yacuruna shrugged.
“I hope my people are more plentiful deeper into the continent,” they said. “Where they can be hidden. There’s too much traffic here. Too much mankind meddles in. Too much destruction, though that is mankind’s specialty.”
Echo approached slowly, finding herself strangely at ease around this elegant person watching her with sharp, dark eyes.
“I think we figured there’d be a fight,” Echo said. “There’s always a fight. You don’t seem like you want to fight.”
“You have the look of an Atlantean,” they said. “And all of you, except that girl over there, have a human shadow on you. It doesn’t surprise me you expected a fight. Atlanteans and humans, all they do is fight and destroy.”
The yacuruna pointed past Echo’s shoulder, who turned to see Muireann just walking into view amongst the brush.
“We’re all, well, we’re not all human. I don’t think any of us is just a run of the mill human anymore,” Echo said.
“Quite the menagerie you’ve brought to my river,” the yacuruna said. “No, I don’t want to fight. I don’t even want to steal you away, which I’m sure you thought I’d do. That’s what the old stories say.”
“Okay, yeah, that we expected,” Echo said.
The yacuruna shook their head balefully.
“We never took anyone who wanted to go home,” they said. “That was our rule. We took those who wanted to join us beneath the river. Only the willing.”
“But the legends say otherwise,” Echo said, sitting down on a large root shaped like a bench.
“Humans always make monsters of that which they do not understand,” they said.
Echo nodded, feeling very tired.
“Echo!” Artem said, startling her. The Amazon charged out of the forest, drawing his swords. “Back away from him! You don’t know—”
Before Artem could finish speaking, he was cut off as a giant snake, its body as thick as a bodybuilder’s thigh, sprang out of the underbrush, tackling him. Echo watched in horror as the serpent coiled itself around Artem and gently rested him on the forest floor.
“Uh-oh,” Echo said.
“Speaking of making monsters of that which you do not understand,” the yacuruna said.
“Echo, help! What’s going on!” Artem said, struggling against the snake’s hold.
“I think we’re cool, Artem.”
“I’m tied up on the ground by a giant snake, Echo. This is not, as you say, cool,” Artem said.
“Could you let my friend go?” Echo said.
“If your friend promises not to try to take my head off with his swords,” the yacuruna said. They regarded Artem with a kind expression. “Sorry about my companion. He is
there to protect me from threats, and you seemed somewhat threatening.”
“Echo?” Artem said.
“Please let him go,” she said.
The yacuruna waved a hand at the serpent, who released Artem, though not as quickly as the Amazon would have liked.
Muireann, seeing all this happen, approached much more peacefully, her hands stuffed in her pockets.
“I take it you found them,” she said.
Artem struggled to his feet, righting his armor and sheathing his swords, but not without a resentful look on his face.
“I might have overreacted,” he said. “I’ve been having a bad week.”
“I’m used to people assuming the worst,” the yacuruna said. “That’s why I have my protectors.”
“Protectors, plural?” Artem said.
The yacuruna nodded.
“Okay, no more violence,” Echo said. “We’re here because you have something we need. Or your people have something we need. A magical object to lock away a dangerous creature.”
The yacuruna smiled warmly.
“Oh, why didn’t you start with that instead of all this nonsense?” they said. “But then, I should have known. The only thing that brings Amazonians and Atlanteans and ocean spirits and shapeshifters together is a world-ending disaster. The minute I saw you all arrive together, I should have known something terrible was afoot.”
“Believe it or not, we’re actually friends,” Artem said. “I mean, our people are all terrible to each other, but this group… we actually like each other. Well, mostly. The magician paddling around out on the river like an idiot right now is questionable.”
The yacuruna smirked.
“Never trust a magician completely,” they said. “Like the shaman of old. We used to help them, sometimes. But a wizard, even with the best of intentions, will always have a second or third layer to every plan.”
“Sounds like our magician,” Echo said. “But… you’ll help us?”
The yacuruna laughed, a soft, huffing noise accompanying a radiant smile.
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