The Dream Keeper

Chapter 12: Maremaids

Chapter 12: Marmaids

“Where is this hunk of junk you call a ship taking us?” Gladamyr asked jokingly. Captain Bootie harrumphed and tried glaring at him with his one good eye. The effect was probably opposite of what the pirate was trying to do and only made him look even crazier. Gladamyr looked at Cerulean, who thankfully had returned to her normal ‘all business’ self.

“We’re heading for No More,” she said.

“Whoa—”

“Before you tell me that No More is the last place we need to head, you must understand, Gladamyr, that a lot has happened since you passed out. The children have obtained powers—I don’t know how. One minute I’m trying to get Kaelyn to help me strengthen my powers, and the next thing I know she is grafting wings on a pixie. And Parker, he can create statues out of stone—warriors. They are inanimate, yes, but with a little help they could come in quite handy.”

Gladamyr agreed. Having an army of stone would be nice, especially if they ever had to fight against Fyren at a ground level.

“Does Fyren know about their powers?”

“I’m sure Cato has revealed what Kaelyn did.”

“I’m not too sure about that.” Gladamyr was thinking out loud. “Pixies like Cato are proud beings and would rather hide than reveal the shame of a mortal’s assistance.”

“Second to that, arr,” Captain Bootie chimed in, “I never met a pixie who didn’t think her own droppin’s didn’t stink.”

“Well.” Cerulean sighed in her emphatic way. “Let’s hope Cato keeps his wings to himself. I doubt they’ll connect the statues with Parker, but Fyren is very suspicious of the children having power.”

“What makes you say that?” Gladamyr asked.

“He was scared of them.”

“Fyren? Scared? Impossible.”

“Gladamyr, you need to believe me on this.” Cerulean took his arm. “The Mare was scared. He pulled Mab back from attacking the children, warning them about their bond.”

Gladamyr agreed that what Cerulean said was very strange. In all the time he had known Fyren, he’d never seen the Mare pull someone back from killing a mortal. If anything, Fyren was the Mare that egged it on. At least, that was the case with Gladamyr. Thinking back to his youth, Fyren had encouraged Gladamyr to be as ruthless and uncaring as he possibly could. To hold back was to restrict yourself from being the best Mare you could be. There had to be a reason why he had shown fear.

“Do you know why he hesitated?” Gladamyr asked.

Cerulean shook her head. “No, I do not. One second he was holding Mab back, warning her not to attack, the next he was giving the death order. He said the children didn’t know anything and couldn’t hurt them.”

“How could the children hurt Fyren?” Gladamyr wondered.

“This is why No More is so important,” Cerulean continued. “No More holds the histories of our world. By finding the answers, we can find the way to defeat Fyren.”

“Cerulean,” Gladamyr said in a concerned tone, “no one has ever returned from No More. How do you know there is anyone even there?”

“I don’t. But we’re out of options, Gladamyr,” Cerulean now picked up the commanding side of her voice. “Do you want to parade into the hall of histories? Perhaps that’s the place we should go—it’s only a few blocks down from the Crossing, is probably surrounded by a million Mares and on fire, but at least people have returned from there. Going into one of Fyren’s strongholds worked so well for us last time. Who will be torn to shreds this time? Loofyn, are you up to it? Anyone else? What, no takers?”