Cerulean Isle (22 page)
Grant turned up the lantern’s wick and shined the yellow light over the black water. The ocean sparkled from our flame. “Where is she?”
“Under water, no doubt. We must let her know we’re harmless.” I drew my broadsword and placed it on the seat nearest the stern. “Take the rapier from your belt and place it with my blade.”
“Are you mad? We have no idea who or what is out there. I’ve heard my fair share of Merfolk yarns, too. The Greeks called them Sirens, beautiful women with beautiful voices that lured seamen to their deaths.”
“If that were true, we’d already be dead.”
“Perhaps you’re right.”
Now fully disarmed, Grant and I sat on the middle bench. We kept our light on the water and panned the surrounding sea. Toward the bow, we heard another splash. Grant aimed the lantern at the front of the boat. There was nothing out there. We sat with the lantern glowing between us. I looked toward the stern and noticed something strange.
“Our weapons are gone.”
“My rapier? I love that sword! Where is it?”
“She took it. The splash ahead was a diversion.”
“Wonderful for us that we deal with thieving Merfolk,” muttered Grant. He leaned over the boat and stared into the waves. “You said to look for two little lights, right?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because they are right there and getting closer.”
I peered into the waves. The glowing lights shone from two fathoms below, flickering on and off as they rose slowly to the surface. In the soft white glow I saw faint shimmers of purple, pink, and gold. The lights faded and disappeared.
A lovely young woman emerged from the dark ocean, seawater streaming over her face, neck, shoulders, and chest. Her hair, smooth and wet, rippled behind her in the water. She had flawless, suntanned skin that gleamed in our lantern light and eyes like shimmering wet amethysts. Her ivory smile was bright and nearly reflective. She remained afloat two feet from the edge of our rowboat.
I struggled to form words. “Hello,” I managed.
“Hello,” she replied. It was hard to tell if her response was true or if she was mimicking me. Her voice was melodic and breathy. She kept her large purple eyes on mine. They were rimmed with a silver hue, unlike any eyes I had ever seen. The ocean trickled from her hair and streamed down her face. Salty water rolled into her eyes but she hardly seemed to notice. She did not blink as most people would.
“My name is Jacob of Rosewing, Grenada.”
She looked at me as if taking time to absorb my voice. The sweet smile remained on her face.
“This is my friend, Grant of Rosewing.”
“Hello,” said Grant. He held out his hand. She looked into his green eyes and she studied his thick red hair. She did not take his outstretched hand. He pulled it away. “It’s nice to meet you.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Do you have a name?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“What is it? What may we call you?”
“Cora,” she answered, “Cora Star. It is nice to meet you, too.”
“Well, Cora,” Grant began, “do you have my rapier? Because it doesn’t float like Jacob’s sword and if it sank—”
“Grant. Enough,” I said sternly.
Cora laughed. It was like music. “You have something of mine.” Her silver rimmed eyes turned to me.
I couldn’t help but admire her pure and perfect beauty. So the ruby shell was hers. I reached into my shirt and pulled it off my neck. Dangling from my fingers, it sparkled in the glow of the lantern. Cora came closer. Her arm broke from the surface of the water, and dripped as she reached for the red shell. Her fingers were smooth, slender, and adorned with the most ornate and unusual rings I had ever seen.
She held her cupped palm under the dangling ruby shell. I lowered the necklace into her hand, and as she took it, our fingers touched. She was warm, slick, and wet. As she took the ruby shell, her hand closed around mine. She came to the edge of the boat. Grant looked on as the maiden from the sea examined my hand. Her smooth fingers delicately rubbed my knuckles and slid into the grooves of my palm. She turned my wrist around and opened my fingers. My skin was dry and cracked. She studied my scars, cuts, and splintered nails. As if satisfied that she knew me better, she released my hand and looped the necklace over her head. The scarlet shell rested just below her collarbone.
“Thank you, Jacob.” Cora’s hand caressed the red jewel, then slipped back into the water. Hearing my name come from her lips was dreamlike. “Please do not be afraid. I tell you this on behalf of my people. Will you tell me the same?”
“Of course. You have nothing to fear. My crew is good at heart,” I said.
“We have met fewer and fewer men and women who live peacefully. It is our wish to know you and for you to know us. I shall let our lord speak his desires. I have completed my task.”
“What was your task?” Grant slid closer to the bow, the rowboat dipping from the sudden imbalance. Water spilled in. Quickly, Grant returned to the middle of the boat.
Cora laughed softly. “To learn if you will be friend or foe.”
“Please, Cora Star, tell your people we wish to be friends.”
“I will.” Her smile lit up her face. “I have a better idea. You two shall tell them.”
With incredible grace, she slid through the water toward the front of the boat, reached in and took hold of our mooring line. “I will bring you.”
Soundlessly she vanished below the surface and a second later her extraordinary fin emerged mere feet from the boat. Astonished, we looked on as the fin unfurled like a small sail, its center becoming rigid like a mighty oar. The fin glistened violet, silver, and creamy pink in the lantern light. I guessed its span was six feet from edge to edge, not counting the added length of its rippling, banner-like hem. I imagined that Cora could wrap herself in it once around and still have length to spare. The great fin forced its way through the waves with a tremendous splash. Saltwater rained down upon Grant and me. With incredible power, the boat jerked forward, and soon we were racing across the sea. Cora Star was somewhere under the waves ahead of us with our line in her grasp as she pulled our rowboat fast toward Cerulean Isle.
We watched as the dark island grew. Soon our boat slowed and made a smooth slide into the sandy cove. We got out and stood on the beach, peering out at the waves. Cora emerged and swam toward the shore.
“Can she leave the water?” asked Grant.
“I don’t know.”
She slipped out of the water and glided, almost serpent like, over the smooth wet sand. I saw her body clearly under the lantern and moonlight. It was the tapestry in reality. She was a fit woman from the pelvis up. Her hips were curved and her waist defined and smooth. Her long wet hair hung below the line of her elbows, shining with striped hues of blue, green, lavender, and red.
The lower half of her, the dolphin-like body, began below the pelvis, as the flesh of her waist darkened to become a pink and purple skin that appeared leathery and smooth. The purple trailed down and darkened to blue, blue blended to purple again and as such, the color scheme repeated until the purple met the start of the great fin.
The fin was translucent and rippled as the surf rushed over it. It looked as though she had wrapped her feet in a silken sheet that swayed in the stirring sea. Cora’s Mer-half was intricately striped with fine patterns of silver and gold. The erratic markings created an enchanting mosaic of swirling shapes along her body and stopped at her navel. She was a gorgeous creature, and somewhere in the deepest chambers of my heart I vowed to protect her against all harm.
The Mermaiden giggled. “The first time I saw a human, I wore the same expression that you wear now.”
I felt ashamed for staring at her. Where had my manners gone? “Forgive our ignorance. We don’t wish to offend you.”
She nodded her acceptance. “Though you have been here once already, allow me to welcome you to Cerulean Isle.”
“Thank you, Cora Star. It’s an honor.” Grant gave a noble bow.
I took her hand in mine. Our eyes locked. “Thank you.”
Cora led us to the far right of the cove. “Around those rocks,” she pointed, “you will find a pool. This is but one of our gathering places. Go there, and I will summon the others.”
Cora embraced the rolling waves and vanished back into the ocean. We made for the rocks and climbed around them. A massive tide pool gleamed in the moonlight. Its water was calm and mirror-like. Grant and I sat in the sand beside the pool and waited.
“Let’s be gracious guests this night and if things go well, we’ll find an opportunity to ask for their help,” I said.
“I wonder what Cora meant when she said, ‘let our lord speak his desires.’”
“If I had to guess, I’d say he has some kind of business he wishes to talk to us about.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “I’m nervous.”
“I wish I had my rapier.”
“Enough about the rapier!”
The water in the pool began to tremble. A light shone from its depths. Soon the water was blue and bubbling, like a mystical oceanic cauldron in the middle of a white-sand cove. The pool erupted into a geyser of cold seawater, drenching us. We rubbed the water from our eyes and beheld five stunning Merfolk, each one stunning and unique. The water beneath the five Mer began to effervesce once more. The surface broke, and we saw Cora emerge to join the group. They smiled at her but remained quiet. I thought of Owen’s description regarding their system of beliefs and hierarchy. The dolphin: family, wisdom; the shark: strength, pride; and the sea turtle: balance, peace. Six virtues for six Mer, and the six now drifted in a spacious pool in front of us.
They studied us with thoughtful, silver-rimmed eyes. One of them, a sapphire-eyed male, floated in the middle of the group. He had lengthy black hair that hung in braids adorned with shells. His face was aged more than the others, though it was smooth, sunburned, and composed. He looked weathered and worn but strong. He wore bands of gold around his arms and a gleaming gold breastplate on his chest. The craftsmanship of the armor would have captivated the finest of blacksmiths. Pressed within the metal was the symbol of a leaping dolphin. I could see the beginnings of his lower half and noticed it was black and silver
He spoke in a strange tongue. “New’atta lee may, Sydin. Anu-yah, Jacob of Rosewing.”
Guessing it was an introduction, I smiled and bowed. He came forward and lifted his chin. It was clear that the blackhaired Mer was the leader. The other Mer watched in anticipation.
“Lah o’na,” he growled. I did not understand. I dared a glance at Cora.
“My Lord Sydin wishes you to kneel,” she said in a whisper.
I obeyed. Now I knelt in the sand before him. He cupped the water from the pool in his hands and held it over my head. His fingers parted and I felt the cool saltwater rush over my hair and into my face. The Merlord smiled and held out his hands for me to take. I accepted, and he helped me stand once more.
“Woh n’ay mu’ama Azu Terra,” said Lord Sydin.
Cora interrupted softly, “They have English tongues, my lord.”
“Yes, of course,” he said with a smile. “Welcome to Cerulean Isle, home of the Caribbean Mer.” He lifted his hands, his palms opened toward the sky. The others cheered the strange word “woh n’ay,” and they all came to the edge of the pool to greet us. I wished then that I had brought Owen to see the realization of his life’s quest.
A massive green Mer approached. His long, matted green hair sat atop his wide shoulders like clumped seaweed. His face was hidden in a thick mossy green beard that hung to the center of his chest. His coal-like eyes looked back at me with curiosity. His powerful body had what looked like barnacles all over his shoulders and around his chest. On his left shoulder was a scar, like a branding, in the shape of a writhing shark. He wore a thick gold chain around his waist and on his hands, and covering the knuckles were bands of metal. The edges of his hips, where his Mer-half began, darkened to a forest green.
Effortlessly he flipped his body out of the water and onto the sand beside me. He put his huge, wet arm around my shoulders. “My name is Manta,” said the brawny Mer in a low and rumbling voice. Beads of water trickled from his beard. His incredible green fin swayed in the shallow of the pool.
I said, “It’s nice to meet you, Manta. Lord Sydin seems like a very nice man.”
“He is not a man.”
“Right. Sorry. He seems like a nice Mer…”
“Merlord is the correct word in your English voice. All male Mer are called Merlords. The females, Mermaidens.”
Owen was right again,
I thought.
“Our people have been called many things by many races of man. You have heard stories, I am sure.”
“Yes. I have.”
Manta laughed. It was loud and resonated through the sand.
“Tell me, Manta,” I began, “what is your role among your people?”
“I am a wrecker.”
“A wrecker?”
“Yes. When the need arises, I go beneath ships and punch holes in the hull. Depending on the ship, of course.”
“I see. How many ships have you wrecked?”
“I do not waste my time remembering such things.” He looked around as if to confirm that no one would hear his next few words. He leaned closer and whispered, “Probably twenty-five or so.” He let out a rumbling laugh.
“I notice your arm is branded. The scar looks like a shark. What honor does it hold?”
Manta’s wide fingers gently touched the branding on his left arm. “I am a Keeper of the Shark. It is my totem. I was chosen by Lord Sydin to embody the sacred attribute of strength. The others here tonight are Keepers as well.”
“There are three animals that you ‘keep,’ as you say?”
“That is correct. Shark, sea turtle, and dolphin.”
“Two qualities exist within each of the creatures that your people identify with?”
“The Mer need these icons to inspire and guide them. Do the men of the land have totems?”
“Not in the way that you do.”
“Then how do you stay together as a common race?”
