The Secret of the Emerald Sea (2 page)

Chapter Two

Jane knew from the ancient myths that the rage of Neptune was the stuff of legend. It had sent sailors to early death, washed whales ashore, and flooded the land. The water was always dangerous, for its tides and currents were always at the mercy of the king’s many moods. Never had she witnessed such ferocity and violence as she did when Neptune churned the water into frenzy and willed it into a deadly froth. The creatures of the sea that hurried away at the first signs of his rage were spared. They managed to stay safe inside of caves and under stones. They wedged themselves tight behind branches of coral, and they waited. Jane saw their eyes, lit up with terror, as they lurked in the hollows.

The rest were not so lucky. They were torn away from the ship and thrown above the surface. She watched the mermaids cry in fear as giant waves loomed overhead and cast grave shadows above them. Soon, Jane swam far away from the others, and was rendered unconscious when she hit her head on the side of a cave. She floated oblivious as calm descended upon the sea again.

* * * *

Neptune stood rooted to the bed of the ocean and gazed at the aftermath of his destructive rage. His ship, once so beautifully clean and shining, was now broken in two. The figurehead he so loved was now detached from the ship and rested facedown in the sand.

Worst of all, his daughter, so long yearned for, was nowhere to be found. The princess he had created with his earthly bride might well be hurt. He wished again that he had never mixed with humanity. The women of the land were not to be borne; they were never satisfied no matter
what
one did to please them. He remembered the fear on his daughter’s face as she begged to return to her old life, and for a moment, he sat down on the bed of the ocean and placed his staff beside him. His heart hurt, and as strong and proud a god as he was, he felt, for a moment at the least, ashamed.

* * * *

Jane awoke to sunlight, bright and cold air, and solitude. She floated dreamily through the water and she began to think about the events of the day before. Her head did not really hurt, and yet she was sure there must be a bruise where it had struck the stone surface of the cave. She touched her scalp gingerly, looking for the source of the tingling and tenderness. As she did so, she noticed the crown was gone, and then she remembered Neptune’s rage and the fear in the faces of her sister mermaids.

Jane felt responsible for all that had occurred. It seemed impossible that she should have caused such havoc and suffering, but it had all happened so fast and she could never have predicted the outcome of her remarks to the king—her
father
.

“Some father!” she muttered to herself as tears came to her eyes. “It would have been better if I had never known him and never come here. Why did I do it?” She looked around her, and there was nothingness. Water surrounded her on all sides. She could hear no creatures to comfort her in the absolute stillness of the early morning. She still had her mermaid’s tail, which she now despised. “No wonder my mother hated this life!” she sobbed. “It’s so horrible here in the Emerald Sea! I hate my father,” she whispered suddenly. “I
hate
him.”

Jane began to feel anger rise within her that she had never before experienced. It filled every corner of her being and overwhelmed her with its force. She felt weak with its power and evil, and she realized there was Neptune’s darkness in her now, as well as the loving spirit of her mother. She realized she had changed already from what she had been, and that it was more than the simple matter of a tail. She had become something other than human on the inside, as well.

There was a period of time when Jane simply drifted, so consumed with her emotions that she took little notice of her situation, which was dire. She eventually realized she would have to make for the land, but as water surrounded her, she did not know which direction to set out in. She wondered what had happened to the mermaids, and to the king, as loathe as she was to think of him at all. She wondered where all the sea creatures were, and why she could not hear them. She supposed she would have to go down under the surface to find them, but she didn’t want to do that. She was terrified of the underwater now.

Jane longed for her village as she swam endlessly, feeling as though she was going in circles and getting no place at all. She scanned the lonely horizon for any signs of life, any landmarks or assistance that might be provided by the placement of the clouds above her, or the moon and constellations at night. But her experience in such matters was minimal. She had no instinct about how to proceed. For days, she drifted, so alone...

She was desolate. Her grandmother would worry, and she was old and frail. She had let her down by creeping to the edge of the sea and changing things forever. She had broken the one rule that really mattered.

Jane never knew exactly how long she wandered the Emerald Sea. Time seemed to lose all meaning, and she could not count the number of days and nights, although she tried to keep track of them.

Eventually, it did not matter, as she saw some speck in the distance and swam frantically toward it.

Chapter Three

The island was like nothing she’d ever dreamed. Resting in the middle of the Emerald Sea, it loomed above her like a Gothic castle made of stone and wrapped in ivy. Set on craggy rocks, with a beach more stones than sand, its foliage was so dark green and thick, one tree or bush could hardly be distinguished from the next. Jane’s heart beat like a drum as she touched the shore and felt the rough sand against her palm.

As she pulled herself onto the beach, her tail disappeared. She stood up and shakily tried to walk. She could hardly manage to stumble down the stretch of sand before she fell. Jane sat down for a moment to rest and gather strength. She became conscious of hunger, thirst, and weariness. Although she had no appetite or thirst when drifting through the sea, she had now become thirsty and ravenously hungry, as well. Also, her body felt extremely tired, as tired as it ever had. She felt she could sleep forever. Her bones felt sore and somehow fragile, as though they were made of glass. “This is what it feels to be human!” she whispered, marveling at the change. “It’s pain and hunger and thirst and...love.” And she knew that she was not human when she swam the seas.

She lay down on the sand in a state of sheer exhaustion, closing her eyes against the past, the present and the future.

When she awoke, the sky was dark and diamond-studded. The moon was one-quarter full. She sat for a moment and listened to the sounds of the island. They were subtle, but unmistakably familiar. She felt joy as she identified the cries of birds, the rustle of leaves, and the sound of water lapping against the shore.

It’s all real again
, she exulted.
All of it
.
No more strangeness and magic
. But even as she thought these comforting thoughts, she began to hear a queer noise that punctured her happiness, and she felt uneasy again. Opening her eyes and sitting up, she began to wonder if this place was only one of King Neptune’s tricks, or perhaps someone else’s. For if the king existed underwater, who were his earthly counterparts?

The noise would not cease. It was a piercing, keening cry that hurt the ears. It sounded like a bird, or perhaps an animal that was wounded or caught in a trap. Her heart raced as she wondered what to do about the situation. Going toward the sound seemed foolhardy, yet to sit here and try to pretend it was not happening seemed even more dangerous. After a moment, the cry stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and the peaceful sounds of the island returned.

Jane didn’t feel any better when the sound stopped. She sighed almost inaudibly. She
knew
she would hear that terrible sound again, and that this island would be no paradise for her. But for now, she chose not to look for the source of it. Instead, she would try to put it out of her mind. She needed to eat and to drink and to get warm, and in her loneliness, she felt overwhelmed by the state of absolute independence that had been forced upon her.

It might have been easy to go back under the water, to allow magic to take over and direct her unthinkingly toward her father. It would have been her decision, simply out of terror and loneliness, but she could not help but think of her mother and everything she had sacrificed so that Jane could be raised on the land. “She tried so hard to spare me,” Jane whispered. “Everything she worked for and struggled to keep me free of will be for nothing if I go back there.”

She no longer wanted to be a mermaid, and yet she would sell her soul to be delivered safely from this desolate island to the village of her childhood. But for now, she had to find a way to survive here while she figured out how to get back to her village. She had no interest in wandering the seas in sadness and confusion as she had before. Those days and nights had blended together in a seamless pattern of terrifying loneliness.

Her decision was to stay on the island, to explore it at will, and with courage, even as she feared what she would find.

Chapter Four

Food and shelter were easy to obtain on a lush and good-sized island. One could simply fish for protein and forage for berries that seemed safe. The diet was dull, but enough to sustain a growing girl, and shelter was obtained in the little caves she found, although they became cool and lonely in the dead of night. She thought of building something larger out of branches, but to do so seemed a defeat, as though she would never leave this place.

During the day, the weather was hot, and she would play in the water without going underneath the surface. The only time she dove was when she looked for fish, and she felt odd eating them as she could hear—or perhaps she was only imagining this?—their tortured cries as they entered their final death throes. She felt guilty and miserable when they died at her hands, but she had to eat.

There were small animals on the island, she knew. She saw their tracks and droppings, but it was eerie in that she had not
seen
one of them yet. The birds she heard every day as clear as a bell were likewise invisible to the naked eye. Where were all these creatures that rustled and woke her in the night? Where were the birds that cried so passionately in the day, and yet the skies remained blue and empty except of clouds? And where was the strange creature who sometimes cried and wailed, as though in desperation?

This last question haunted her the most, as the cries, which sometimes sounded animal, other times human or perhaps even otherworldly, frightened her and also made her homesick for words, for conversation. Sometimes she felt in her heart that some creature was calling to her, to come and find it, to
rescue
it, and not to hurt her at all. She burned with the curiosity to know who, or what, it was. It was impossible to deny that she needed to find out—regardless of the consequences.

So, one day when the skies were a faded blue and the heat was bearable, she packed up as much food as she could in a large leaf. Unaware of her nakedness, which she had tried in vain to cover with all manner of leaves and draping, then ceased to care about, she forgot about her own safety. She was determined to find the owner of the haunting, keening cry.

She wandered the island, listening as hard as she could for the sound. There was no way to pinpoint where it would come from. It seemed to be a different direction each time.

It sounded like a child crying one moment, a bird squalling the next. Her mind played tricks on her, and she wandered, frustrated, thinking all the while about what made the sound and if it would harm her? She had almost made it to the other side of the island, having walked for a good hour, but still she had found nothing. The sun was dropping into the sea and her legs were sore.

Her heart burned with rage as she considered her solitude, a terrible prison she loathed. So lonely was she, she would risk everything to find something or someone. Yet, she would not go back to Neptune again, never, never. The sky started to pelt her with tiny raindrops and she fought off the irritating desire that had always haunted her at such times. To go to the sea and sink into its depths, perhaps forever...to leave behind her mortal body once and for all.

She put one foot ahead of the other, and as she felt the rain run in tiny rivulets down her cold flesh, which would be so warm and comfortable under the sea, she started to cry. She wailed, she keened, and she sobbed as loudly as she wished, for it was apparent there was no one to hear her, and no one at all to care about her desolation. And then, as she settled down, her eyes red and swollen and unseeing, a tiny child stepped out of the shadows, barely two from the looks of him, and almost as naked as she.

“Are you quite all right?” the little tot asked her. His voice had the refined tone of the ladies and lords of her village. The child enunciated each word so clearly, in a cut-glass accent that sent chills up and down her spine. She could only stare at him in disbelief.

“Are you real?” she asked without thinking, feeling her cheeks flush with pleasure. He was
perfect
, tiny and pink and white with a mop of cherubic curls, and dimples when he smiled. He had lips as red as cherries, and eyes the cool blue-gray of wood smoke at night.

Although he wore no clothing except a swath of white cloth draped loosely about him, Jane noticed a quiver of arrows upon his back in a sort of cylinder made of battered bronze. There were only two arrows in the quiver, and she wondered that such a young boy would have weapons like these. They did not look like toy arrows, for they were sophisticated in design, with etchings along the metal tips, and gold plating. They looked sharp, as though they would break the skin with the barest pressure.

She longed to ask him so many questions, and yet, she feared frightening him or scaring him away back into the hiding places of the island. Then again, he was only a tiny child. She knew he would have parents, and they could help her get away from this place!

“I am Jane,” she said, smiling, and wishing she had a white draping to cover her nude body. Her long hair did a good job, hanging almost down to her waist now, but still she would have preferred not to be in this state. “I was lost at sea, and I came here, and I thought I was all alone,” she continued, gazing at the beautiful boy in wonder.

“My name is Cupid,” he said in his small, clear voice. “As far as I know, I have always been here, and I have always been alone.” Jane marveled again at his cool tone—she noted the absence of a childish lisp or cadence, or any trace of self-pity, and disconcertingly, she felt the intelligence of an adult come through in the child’s logical, unemotional tone.

“Cupid!” Jane exclaimed, trying not to laugh. “Your name is...Cupid?” She glanced once more at the quiver of arrows strapped across his tiny, fleshy torso. “You are meant to unite lovers?” she asked the boy quizzically. She gazed around her without really looking. “In this lonely and deserted place?” She sat down so as to be at his level and looked across at him. “You aren’t a real Cupid, are you? I mean, you aren’t magical. You’re just a little boy, aren’t you?” Jane kept her eyes on him; so adorable was he that she found it difficult to glance away for even a second.

“I am Cupid, and there is only one of me,” he answered. “I have many duties...” he continued, looking into her eyes with a gaze that beguiled her—his blue-gray eyes were fringed in thick and sooty lashes as long as a girl’s. He toyed with a lock of his silky, glossy hair with pink-and-white fingers.

“At present,” he said with real seriousness, “my destiny is unfulfilled.”

“Who brought you here?” Jane asked. She longed to take the small boy in her arms and hold him close to her. She wished so much for the comfort of his body next to hers, and the scent of his hair. She would take pleasure in the smell of sunshine and childhood that always soothed her.

“I am not sure,” he answered, and she watched his beautiful eyes cloud over. “I can’t remember anything but waking here one morning, these arrows strapped against me, and wondering where I was,” he continued.

Jane watched as he played with a lock of his hair again, curling it and releasing it, curling it and releasing it again. It was somehow hypnotic. It was impossible to think of anything else but his charm and his grace. He was strangely coy and smiling now, and he seemed as mysterious as anyone she had ever met. The fact that he talked like an adult was confusing and disturbing to Jane. But at least he spoke. And he seemed safe, as though he could harm no one.

“Who
are
you?” the boy asked her suddenly, and she didn’t even know how to answer. She had already explained her situation, and given her name.

“I’m lost!” she exclaimed. “I am a girl who is lost, and I need to go home.”

“Where is your home?” he asked her gently, smiling in encouragement. Jane felt she might cry as she looked into the depths of his eyes, which seemed to display all manner of compassion and warmth now.

“I lived in the village by the Emerald Sea,” she answered, “where the church bells are always ringing, and the people fear God and the water, both in equal measure. The village is called Royalton, but it is a simple place, and all my friends and the people I love are all there, waiting for me to come back.” She wiped tears from her eyes as the Cupid listened to her tale.

“You are so beautiful, Jane, like a princess,” he told her, a little smile brightening his face. “Why do you not seek out your home? What keeps you here on this island?”

“Oh, thank you,” she stammered, blushing at his compliment despite herself. “I am afraid of the sea,” she said, looking out at the shoreline.” I don’t know how to find my way home, and I have had...frightening experiences under the water.”

* * * *

The Cupid ducked his head for a moment; he was afraid that a look of cunning was crossing his features and distorting their studied innocence. He knew to bow his head and conceal what lurked beneath his beauty.

“Tell me about what happened underwater,” he ordered her, his voice dangerously quiet. “Tell me everything, Jane.” He folded his hands before him as though in prayer, and set his features so that they appeared serene and angelic again.

He knew Jane was upset and profoundly lonely. He knew she was so grateful for a friend that she would begin her story and leave
nothing
untold.

As Jane began to speak, the Cupid’s heart lightened. He was elated to hear of the girl’s travails because he believed they signaled the beginning of his destiny. He stared at the young girl and he knew
without a doubt
that his future was unfolding before his eyes. How long he had waited here, touching his arrow tips with plump and tiny fingers, wishing and wishing...for the Cupid was older than he appeared...
much older
.

Most people were unaware that the Cupid must always carry two arrows—one for love and one for hate. His fingers moved between each arrow as the girl told her story, as though to decide which one was needed...

* * * *

After their first meeting, Jane lived with the Cupid on the island, and she was happy in his company. Together, they played on the shoreline and collected beautiful shells, which they made into garlands and necklaces for her to wear. They sat and talked at night and, although the Cupid was not forthcoming about his own situation, he seemed unable to exhaust his flattering interest in her life. It felt so good to have a friend again.

It seemed less important to leave the island now, but still she must. Having a companion—and such a charming one!—had made her complacent. They cooked the fish that Jane caught—for the Cupid was able to draw fire from two sticks, as Jane could never seem to do—and they picked berries, and then they turned a large cave into a sort of makeshift home. This place was carefully decorated with driftwood and other things they would find around the island. At night, the Cupid slept in the crook of Jane’s arm, and she was ecstatic. His charm and beauty never seemed to wane. She would almost feel he was her own child, if only he was not so composed—and always a little cool—with her, so that she never
quite
knew where she stood, or if he loved her as she loved him.