The Secret of the Emerald Sea (3 page)

Chapter Five

Months passed in this peaceful state, which, when she looked back, seemed almost spell-like, as though she were bewitched by the boy. Time seemed to stop, and she could not understand her own reluctance to leave him and find her home, which had once been the only thing she thought of.

They had stayed on the island for weeks. Jane’s body, already in the bloom of womanhood, was changing more each day. She was turning into a woman in this desolate place, her hips and bosom rounder now, her cheekbones stronger in a less childish face.

* * * *

The Cupid was acutely aware that Jane was becoming a woman. How he should come by such knowledge, when he had always been alone here, he did not know. He watched the young woman emerge and he smiled quietly to himself. Waiting was hard, but who had waited longer? He would wait as long as necessary, and his heart was light, for he knew it wouldn’t be that much longer now.

One day, the Cupid sat on the beach and stared out to sea. Jane was fishing in the shallow water close to shore, and he noticed again how much older she seemed. He sensed in an instant that enough time had finally passed. He felt a sort of sly happiness. He called down to Jane, who raised her head and smiled. When she emerged from the surf and came to his side, he decided it was time to plan their exit from the island. They must go forth and seek his destiny, although he would rather give the impression that they were looking for Jane’s village. Who knew what, or who, might be encountered along the way?

“Jane, we must leave,” he said without preamble. “We have stayed here too long, and the world is waiting for us beyond this place.”

“But...are you not happy here...with me?” Jane asked, casting down her eyes. He knew the girl loved him dearly now, for he was her only friend, and he had devoted himself to her with every fiber of his being.

“Will you leave me if I find my village?” she asked him, her eyes filled with sadness.

“I am not sure that I would be welcome there,” he told her in a somber voice. “I am different, as you know, and those who are different are so often shunned.”

“But...you would be loved as my little brother!” Jane told him, her voice filled with anxiety.

“No,” he whispered. “That is not the way it would go. You know the village folk will whisper about me, and the way I never,
ever
grow, and the way I speak like one fully grown. They would suspect witchcraft. That is what they always do, isn’t it, when faced with anything that cannot be easily explained by the priests or the village elders? You’ve told me that is what they are like, Jane. I could not go there with you,” he continued quietly. “Although I would like to be by your side always, I could not live in such a place where I would always be judged and never free.”

He watched the girl’s face. She was crying now at the thought of being away from him. This was good.

“Jane,” he asked, “must you return to your village straightaway?” She looked startled at the idea. Her green eyes were filled with confusion. “Well,” she stammered. “Do you know of a better place than my village? Someplace where we can live together forever and no one will bother us?”

Cupid smiled his most heartfelt smile. He came to Jane and put his arms about her neck, burying his tiny head next to her ear. Then, he kissed her gently on her suntanned cheek.

“I think we must fashion a raft,” he said. “Since I am not big enough to swim properly, we must find another way out of here.”

“But then what?” the girl asked. Her voice was tense now. “We don’t have a direction, and we’ll drift and drift,” she said. “And we will never find anything! I did that before I came here. I don’t want to drift at sea again. I’d rather stay here forever. I think I’d rather die.”

Jane started to cry and the Cupid stroked her hair and collected his thoughts. He remembered the nightmares she had, on so many nights, and the way she would wake up and tell him of the awful loneliness she felt on the water. In her bad dream, she drifted again, and she didn’t know how many days and nights passed, and she floated listlessly, whispering only one word—
home
. She told him she had repeated the word to herself like a benediction, but that nothing has helped her find her village.

“I want to go home!” she said loudly, piercing his reverie. “There is no other place for me and I know nothing else.”

The Cupid was startled by this unusual show of resistance, for the girl was generally quite peaceful and even passive, but he had imagined his response to it a million times. He was unfazed as he stroked her golden hair again, and continued to cuddle next to her as he knew she loved him to do.

“Then we’ll go to your home,” he whispered. “Don’t worry, we’ll find it on our way.”

Jane nodded happily as the Cupid swore he would never leave her,
no matter what
.

Chapter Six

Jane started to build a raft the morning after their discussion. The Cupid supervised the construction of it, although Jane did most of the labor since the little child’s body was clumsy. The Cupid had deft hands, but he was not strong, and he was not much help with heavy tasks. He told her which woods to gather and which fibers would be best to hold things together. The Cupid seemed to know exactly how to create what was needed.

It took a long time to build the raft, but it did float, though it looked crude and even dangerous, and it was large enough for both of them. Jane knew there was enough room to put on all the supplies they would need, for who knew how long they would be at sea? The Cupid had few needs beyond warmth and a little food, which he seemed to eat as much for show as out of any appetite. But Jane was growing, and she hungered quickly. She needed a good store of food and clean water, and they both needed tarps to shield them from the rain. However, these proved impossible to construct out of the materials of the island.

Jane knew from painful experience that the rain would come down hard, and that the water would be rough when they were clinging to their raft in a storm. The Cupid suggested that she should fashion handles that they could hang onto so that they could at least stay close to the raft when the bad weather came. Then, they would not lose each other. She loved this idea. After all, even if she had to go under the water in a storm, she could not take the Cupid with her, and she would never leave him, even if it meant dying.

The day they left was bright and clear and auspicious for travel. They walked slowly around the island that had become a home for both of them. To Jane, the Cupid looked pensive and a little sad—after all, he had never known anything else but this place.

* * * *

The Cupid stared at the Island once more from a vantage point at the shore. His heart was both heavy and light as he contemplated the sky, the leaves, and the sand. Someday, he hoped to return, with all of his great deeds done, and then he would sit on the beach and stare out at the sea until the sun fell into the sky and the gods were at rest.

* * * *

Jane hated pushing the raft out to sea—she hated being on the raft. One night, a storm came on at dusk and the wood she had bound together began to disintegrate under the strain of the high winds, the rain and the flotsam that would strike it from all sides. Jane quickly obeyed when the Cupid ordered her to hold onto to the handles she had made, and she stared into his eyes in terror.

Soon, the weather became even worse. Their flesh was almost frozen now, and their supplies had gone into the frigid water. Suddenly, the Cupid began to wail as he sat and clutched the crude handles, and Jane recognized the sound of the creature on the island. She had suspected him, of course, but never in his presence had she heard the wailing cry that had once haunted her. Sometimes, she felt she heard it in her dreams late at night when both of them slept, but when she awoke, the Cupid was nestled very still beside her, and it seemed impossible that it could be him.

“Don’t, Cupid,” she hollered into the storm. “Just hold on tight and wait for it to pass!”

But he screamed and screamed, his childlike features suddenly ugly and distorted. Her terror was absolute, and he appeared suddenly monstrous, his eyes glowing with unnatural light, and his skin taking on a deathly green-white pallor so different from his normal rosy coloring.

“Jane!” he screamed at her, and his voice seemed to be the voice of someone else, someone much older—his voice was the voice of a
man
. “Hold on to me, Jane, and no matter what happens, don’t let go!” Despite her fear, she clutched him in her arms like a child while trying to stay balanced on the center of the raft. He shook in her arms and screamed, and she watched in transfixed horror as
buds
emerged from his tiny back, pushing through his skin. She pulled his quiver of arrows to the front, and then she began to cry and touch at these strange growths to try and remove them.

“Leave them be,” he roared in his deep voice. “They are all that can save us now!”

Jane stared in horror as the buds became wings...wings that were spotted with his blood. His body grew at the same time, until he towered over her, floating above the raft like an avenging angel. His face was stern and square now...it was a
man’s
face. His chest broadened, and his arms and legs were soon roped with powerful, lean muscles. His hair blew off his face as Jane stared at him in disbelief. He was
beautiful,
and terrifying in his beauty, his lips as finely wrought as a god’s, his nose aquiline. The Cupid’s wings were huge and snow white and folded around him as he set himself down on the raft once more.

“This is me, Jane,” he announced in a deep voice. She watched him smile and reach down for his arrows. They were still there. Some magic had protected them from harm. His eyes glowed as he picked her up against him and they began to rise over the churning sea.

“It’s the first moment that hurts me, Jane,” he whispered to her as the storm surged around them. Jane’s heart throbbed as she felt his strong arms hold her close. Then, the Cupid kissed her lips, so gently, with tenderness and also passion.
My first kiss
, she thought wildly, feeling butterflies in her stomach.

They flew over the storm until dawn was about to break.

“When the sun comes up,” he murmured in her ear, “I will be as you knew me before, and it is always to be this way. For no human can see me as I really am.”

“But I can see you!” Jane said, bewildered.

“You are not human, Jane, and that is why you see, and why I am with you.”

“Why did you not tell me sooner...
what
you are?” Jane asked angrily. “Did you not trust me?”

“I didn’t really know,” the Cupid answered. “I would awaken at night and know what I was, but it seemed like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. Until I found you,” he went on, “I doubted the reality of my transformations.” He shook his curls in disbelief. “It took the storm to show me that I am real.” He kissed her cheek. “All will be well now, Jane,” he murmured as they rose ever higher. “I will take us where we need to be.”

She smiled at him, feeling some strange excitement unlike anything she had ever felt before.
I must not look down
, she thought.
We are flying so high now
. But she smiled.

Jane was as enamored as ever with the Cupid, adoring the young man just as she did the little child. She relaxed into his arms, and felt again the strange tingling in her heart, for he was impossibly handsome, and she had become a woman.

“I will go with you wherever you desire,” she whispered.

Chapter Seven

Under the sea, Neptune’s rage churned just like the waters that swirled around him. His absolute power over the creatures of the sea did not extend to the land, and he knew that would be the first place Jane would go. However, all the gods were friendly after a fashion with one another— although they could be quite nasty behind one another’s backs—and so the King of the Emerald Sea made some inquiries.

Spies and emissaries were sent out to look for the young girl. Her home village was scoured by disguised half-deities and various small amphibious creatures, and deemed to be uninhabited by her. Councils were held with the mermaids, who had all found their way back after Neptune’s outburst, and endless discussions about Jane’s whereabouts always brought them back to the same central point.
No one
knew where the girl was.

Neptune was at a loss. The world was a big place, even for him, to search thoroughly. Under the sea, the search would be vast, but magic could assist his efforts. On land, he was painfully hobbled by the loss of his considerable powers. He only went on dry earth when he couldn’t help himself. In fact, Jane and her mother had been the only reasons yet to explore a world that he essentially loathed—the
human
world.

But love was strange, and sent its chosen ones down odd pathways. So Neptune had seen Jane’s mother on the shore one day as she hunted for shells, and he was smitten. Lost in admiration, he put his feet on terra firma for the first time, and he brought back a willing bride, at least at the outset. His power was diminished on the land, but he still had the power of conviction, and he had drawn this golden beauty toward him. Never before had he felt
anything
like this, and he knew he was blessed.

She willingly gave up everything to be his love, but then it turned sour. It didn’t take long for her surroundings to chafe at her, and all the godly power in the world could not cease her—slow–at-first—turning away from their love. Never had Neptune felt such pain as when she rose to the surface, her belly swollen with child, and walked away from him, not even pausing to look back.

The heartache had been terrible, but time had healed the wound to an extent, and he had his godly duties, his mermaids—who were some his children and some his companions—and other distractions. However, his missing daughter, who was lost to him, made it
so hard
to forget everything that had gone before.

“Shall I go onto the land?” he wondered moodily. “Shall I send more emissaries?” He stuck his trident into the seabed, pulled it out, and stuck it in again. This was his form of pacing. “I am not sure what course to take,” he muttered to himself. Generally, decisiveness was not a problem for
any
god. They were all subject to acting out and rash actions that often hurt humans, but
never
to dillying and dallying over courses of action.
Perhaps I should seek wise council
, he thought, wondering which of his godly equals could provide him with the most assistance.

Certain of his godly friends could be counted on to say, “I told you so” because he had been foolhardy and chosen to secretly love a human woman and dilute the royal bloodline with a half-bred daughter. But many other gods were in the same boat, always having to cope with their human families—and sometimes they had more than one.

Jupiter, he knew, had dabbled with human women, but he was superior to Neptune, and that was always irritating. Like chatting to one’s boss, one had to be careful about what slipped out in the conversation. He crossed Jupiter off his list, even though he really did have the most experience in this area.

Who else
? Neptune wondered. He ran through a mental checklist of the other gods he sat with at council, and then he had a brainwave. A woman might have more insight into the workings of his daughter’s mind than the gods he had considered!

“A goddess—of course!” he whispered.

“A woman likes...Venus, perhaps...or Diana.” He danced around the seabed until the sands swirled about his feet.

“It’s perfect!” he murmured gleefully, feeling, once more, the familiar power and control that had always been his birthright, at least until he dabbled with the human species.

I will talk to the mermaids about it and see what they think, but it’s a perfect idea
, he thought happily
.
He sat down on his throne and smiled regally, reveling in his own brilliance. He enjoyed the once-familiar feeling of self-adoration, a sensation he had experienced precious little of lately.

Twirling his staff jauntily, he tried to decide which goddess should become his special confidante.

Venus had her...attributes. That could not be argued, but Neptune was generally so dazed by her omnipresent charm and beauty that he found it difficult to focus on
anything
she said.

She smelled good, she sounded good, she looked good. These were the only impressions he
ever
had about the Goddess of Love, and he was startled to realize he had no memory of any prior conversations they had shared. It seemed impossible, since they had met so many times, but alas, it was true. Venus was simply too devastatingly beautiful to consult regarding this matter.

Neptune sighed. She would have been his first choice, without a doubt, if he thought he could keep his wits about him. In fact, the idea of going up to the council—held within the Sunlit Cloud—to see her was
tremendously
appealing. Perhaps if he concentrated as hard as he could, or even took notes, instead of gazing in wonder at the graceful folds of her toga and the soft tendrils of her hair, and the lips that curved so...sensually. Neptune grunted in frustration. Clearly he should cross Venus off his list if he wished to make any progress whatsoever.

I must decide now
, he thought worriedly. There would be less chance of any real assistance the longer he waited. The girl could move further and further away.

“Diana,” he muttered. “I don’t know about her.” He had to confess, the Huntress made him uneasy. She was so comfortable with her bow and arrow, and always ready for battles. It was a bit unsettling. But perhaps her warrior spirit was something his wayward daughter shared.

“What other goddesses?” he mused aloud. “Perhaps...Minerva?”

Minerva was worth a thought or two. The Goddess of Wisdom sounded about right. Her grave and solemn expression was somewhat intimidating, but her serious manner echoed the gravity of his situation. Her beauty was pristine, somehow mature...the polar opposite of Venus’ flirtatious lightheartedness.

Minerva commanded respect and her bearing was regal. She had never had much use for Neptune, he knew, as she preferred the company of gods who were more intellectual. He was certain she felt his constant storms and shipwrecks were mere displays of ego, and as such, below her. But he felt she would at least give him a fair hearing if he implored upon her to give him her advice. Everyone knew she had the finest mind of all the goddesses.

He searched his stone tablets, which were buried in a treasure chest near the ruins of his fine ship. The next council was scheduled for four days hence. If he was to seek an audience with Minerva, there would be no better time to do it, and he’d save himself two trips
up there
at the same time.