Heartsong

Part 3: Keeping

Consciousness returned with the sound of dripping, the cool of water, and the stench of rotting seaweed. He lifted his head and opened his eyes—and flinched with a splash.

Something had tied him in a cage by his waist, holding him just head-and-shoulders above the surface of the water. His hands were bound at the wrist, extended in front of him. The cove itself was small and dark, illuminated only by the sunlight streaming through an opening in the rock somewhere he couldn't see.

He let his head sag as his mind spun. He had been on a voyage, normal by all accounts, until it ran into an unforeseen storm. That was certainly a matter to contend with, but then he had ducked down to the galley for a snack and found a young woman hiding among the provisions. In his honesty, he thought to mention it to one of the deckhands, who passed word onto the captain.

He pressed his lips at the memory; the captain had gotten himself stinking drunk, which turned him into a raving, raging, vengeful idiot, it seemed. He immediately demanded that the crew adhere to the practice of casting women overboard. The poor soul didn't stand a chance, what with all the men only too eager to get their hands on her. Nothing he said could dissuade them—not that he could say much, being stricken with violent seasickness. They chained the woman and tossed her into the sea, and then—

He ceased his recollection as something brushed his leg. He wondered vaguely what sort of captor would tie him up to his shoulders in water, while making sure he could not swim away, nor would he sink and drown. Why would someone choose this particular method?

He was still staring at the water, trying to ascertain a possible depth for the small cove, when he began to realize that a pair of eyes stared back at him.

A burble and a splash caused him to flinch, as a small barrel bobbed to the surface. Tiny waves shoved the barrel toward him, and with his bound hands he scrabbled at a loose edge serving as a lidded opening.

Inside he saw a whole stack of "tack," the round, tough bread sailors subsisted on most of the time. The seal of the barrel had done it's job and kept the tack dry, even underwater. Carefully he slid a biscuit out and began munching on it, doing his almighty best to keep it from getting too moist.

All the while, the bulging eyes stared at him. There was something about the face, and the way his captor hovered up to her chin in the water—not to mention the color of her face, a deep blue-grey that was much different than it should have been. Something...

Small slits in the middle of her face flexed; the creature had no nose. He jerked, sending the barrel bobbing away to the other side of the narrow cage.

"What are you?" He demanded.

She stared for a minute longer, and disappeared under the water. He waited for her return, but in vain. A while later, something round surfaced with a splash, but it was only a narrow-necked jug of fresh water.

Time passed slowly. Sometimes the creature would visit, sometimes she would send barrels or jugs of food and water into the cage. Some of it, he even recognized as cargo pulled from the wreckage of the very ship he had been riding. It baffled him; why would she care about his survival, when she didn't even care enough to interact with him?

The next time she stayed to stare at him, he again asked, "What are you?"

She dove immediately, causing him to wonder if he had offended her somehow.

Suddenly, he felt her body sliding up along his as she surfaced directly in front of him. Her long tail pushed against his feet. The bulbous eyes and undulating gills were just inches from his face as she flourished a wicked-looking bone knife. Bringing the blade down toward the space between them, she made a quick lunge and he instinctively brought his hands up in a protective gesture. His wrists came apart and his arms relaxed. She had cut his bonds. He looked up again, but she swam away without making eye contact again.