(A/N): Thank you all for the great response to Chapter One. I love comments, and I'm glad to have so many faithful readers. I'm truly a blessed author. Onward!
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Chapter Two:
The Beauty of the Tide
1
The morning sea was smooth and calm with hardly a wrinkle. The treacherous rocks were easy to spot beneath the light of the sun. So was the wreckage. Several eyes surveyed the mess from the deck of a ship—His Majesty's Loriletta—until there was only one thing to be said about the vessel that had been claimed.
"Just pirates." This came from the mouth of the crown prince himself.
Thaddeus Archibald Ellister III observed the scene calmly, smoking from a hand-crafted pipe. He was a sensible man at thirty-two, well-educated and liked by the people in the seaside nation of Solaris. Even if he had not been the eldest child of his father, he still would have been the pick of the litter as heir to the throne.
Since he had been a young lad, with such freedoms common to a prince, Thaddeus had made it his business to secure the seas that surrounded his father's kingdom. He wanted to rid the waters of their monsters—a list including villainous pirates as well as creatures of the deep. His biggest concern, however, had always been the flesh-eating deep sea nymphs. Only a select few knew what drove him, but they kept that information to themselves, knowing better than to open their mouths.
For now, Prince Thaddeus surveyed the stray, floating chunks of human flesh with a skillful eye.
"It's not the work of sharks, but that's what we'll tell them," he said in his eloquent voice. He puffed from his pipe. "This was certainly the doing of our vicious female friends of the depths."
"At least it was only a pirate ship this time, and not one of our own," mentioned a middle-aged attendant next to him. This man was one of many, fully interchangeable to Ellister's thinking. "That's at least a point on our side."
The prince was not interested in this. Thaddeus turned away without a word, stepping across the deck in his fine, polished boots which seemed to clomp with authority.
"I want to know why we did not already have this position marked," he said. "These rocks were perfect for the creatures' use. They should have already been found and netted."
Thaddeus did not look at any of them as he spoke. His voice was so calm that it sent chills throughout those around him. The tone was smooth, like the sea, but in an instant it could rise up and swallow them all. They all groped for an answer, but a short, portly man—Mister Browning—spoke up first.
"Please understand, Your Highness. The seas are not fully charted. They change with the rise and fall of the tide. It is not negligence. Please believe that we are doing our best for you."
Bold words, spoken in a timid, reverent manner. Ellister liked that the man felt completely inferior to him. He knew his place, and it was far beneath where the crown prince was. Ellister was so appreciative of this that it put him in a lenient mood. He removed the pipe from his mouth.
"I want this kept quiet," he said, as if to refresh all their minds, "and see that nets are dropped here so that this mistake does not repeat itself."
"What of the remaining bodies?"
Ellister looked out over the water once more, noting the shimmering texture of the ocean but gazing impassively at the pale, lipid blobs that had been left behind after the feeding frenzy.
"They belong to the sea now," he said. "The remains may be good for bait."
2
"He's not your son!"
Nathan shot awake, shaken by the shouted phrase in his mind, even though it was forgotten as soon as the dream had left him. He opened his eyes to the glow of the sun and a mild, burning sensation on his skin. His face, neck, and clothes were covered with gritty white sand, but he was alive.
Alive.
At the sudden memory of the previous night—the gnashing, bloody teeth of the fish creatures, tails lashing in the churning waters—Nathan shot upright, examining himself to be certain that no large chunks of flesh were missing. To his relief, he found himself whole, down to the last whisker on his face. He panted while his heart calmed, and after considering how he'd cheated death, incredulous laughter swelled inside his chest until it burst free.
Nathan closed his eyes, tossed his head back and laughed for the sheer, dumb luck of it all. Twice in one night, he had cheated death. It was too bad for all those others. They'd certainly not made it.
It's terrible, isn't it? he thought to himself, wiping tears from his eyes along with bits of sand. Can you even imagine what it must have been like?
He shook his head violently to pry the thought loose, making his head ache. There was no sense in ruining the fine feelings of his good fortune, but his laughter had faded. For some reason, he had not been eaten by those creatures. He had survived the storm, and now he was here.
Where?
His brown eyes, beneath a gently reddened brow, looked around. He was on a beach—that was certain—peering toward the sea of white caps that stretched on for miles. To his right, there was only a shoreline with no one in sight. Behind him, there was no settlement; only a cluster of trees. Nathan's good spirits fell instantly.
"Perfect..." he muttered with a slight shake of his head. No, he'd not drowned. He'd not been eaten by scaly creatures with flesh-ripping teeth. He was alive—alive on a small island he didn't recognize, miles from the mainland. It was brilliant how God had decided to mock him. Just perfect.
He was about to rise, to stand and yell at the top of his lungs before trying to gather his thoughts on how he would get out of this, but before he'd even shifted his weight, his gaze hung on something lying near him. His brow creased involuntarily as he looked over what he had found, confused and yet amazed.
There on the beach, partially covered by a ripped sail that had drifted ashore, was a woman.
She was naked, her skin lightly tanned by the sun, smooth and young. Long, golden hair was wet from the gently retreating water, spread out around her in all directions. Nathan leaned forward for a closer observation, though hesitant, even if he wasn't sure why.
Am I dreaming? He was sure that he was awake, but was he seeing something real, or a mirage? Could she be... Is she dead?
The skin of the woman's back appeared radiant and fine; not the color of death. He could see that she breathed softly, and he found that he was relieved, but what was she doing here? He'd been lucky to live. How was it possible that she was here as well? She had not been on that ship the night before. He certainly would have remembered.
Absently, he touched his head, feeling a hardened mass of blood encrusting his scalp. He'd hit his head on the ship's railing, and the sight of her did not make things better. His mind was groggy. He wasn't thinking properly as he looked at her—as slowly and deliberately he closed the space between them, pulling himself past the wreckage until he was beside her.
He hesitated to touch her, for touching her meant that she was real, and if his hand passed through her, it would reveal that she was a vision and he was truly alone here. He was apprehensive, but carefully, he rolled her over.
She was dead weight, but went easily onto her back without stirring. Nathan's eyes lit fully at the solidity of her form. He was not imagining this. If he'd not been intrigued by her before, he certainly was now, for she was more and more beautiful from every angle that he witnessed.
The ruined sail twisted around her body, hiding her hips and legs that were submerged in the tide. Her body was lean, but with flowing curves like only an artist could depict from his most lustful fantasy. She could not have been older than he was; perhaps much younger. The woman's lips were full and even, the top just as perfect as the bottom. Her eyes were closed, but the lashes were long and light, weightless like wisps of cloud.
Lost in awe, his fingers brushed the side of her face, and disbelieving laughter passed through his lips at the warmth of her skin. Perhaps God had not mocked him after all. This was a gift; it must have been. An unsettled island, this perfect woman, and nothing but freedom. He was in Eden. Could his fate have been any better? But where had she come from? He should have expected that he would not let this all get past his busy mind. Something was sure to vex him.
"Who are you?" he whispered to her, observing her lovely face.
She did not answer him—of course she did not. But that was alright. She did not need to speak. He examined her face as his hand trailed down her body absently—softly down the slope of her neck, smoothing hair away from one round breast before tracing down the contours of her ribs, her stomach. She was as pleasant to the touch as to the eyes. He could not look away.
Gazing at her, Nathan felt warmth stirring within. He might have sworn that a spell had taken him over, for he found himself unable to control his urge to touch her further, his thoughts running in dizzying circles all around her. Her. He was drawn to her in a way that he couldn't describe, only knowing he wanted her more than food or even water. If to kiss her mouth would steal away his last breath, then he felt he would die a happy man. She became the center of all things, and he did not know where he was or why he was here, only that he was with her. He'd forgotten...everything. Within that swirl of heat, he almost forgot himself.
His body was tightening, his breaths growing hotter. His lips moved toward hers, desperate to claim them. He did not know her, but that was not a thought that disturbed him. The lost pirate kissed the mysterious woman, tasting salt and swallowing sand, but the softness there was well worth it. His tongue slid into her easily and filled his body with insatiable desire.
She awoke in his kiss. Slender fingers touched his jaw lightly, tracing the curve and then slid down his neck. She accepted him without question, returning his lust. Despite all uncertainty, he felt relaxed and blissful. His hand wandered beneath the sail, sliding down her body until his fingers met with something that snapped his mind back into place.
The texture had changed from smooth skin to something slick and rough—like fish scales. For a moment, he could not grasp it, only knowing that this was very different from anything he had expected to feel beneath there.
What in hell...?
Another flash of the night before swept by him, and he understood then. He had been tricked! This was no woman at all, but a deep sea nymph that had ensnared him with an illusion of beauty. She had only appealed to his senses in order to get him so close, but truly, this one that had her arms about his neck was a monster. In another short moment, she would surely rip the lips from his face.
Oh God...
Somehow, his mind managed to catch and his body reacted along with it, throwing himself away from her. He reached for the knife that he kept in his boot, relieved to find that it was still there. By the time she had leaned up to look at him questioningly, he was crouched with the knife, defending against anything she might do.
The woman looked at him doubtfully, as if pained by his rejection. Her eyes were like gems, the very same color as the blue-green sea. They glittered in the sunlight, but it did not suit him to look at those eyes—or any other part of her, yet he dared not look away. Nathan squinted, trying to see her for what she really was. Always, he was left staring at a gorgeous woman with a fish tail and not a hideous monster like he had seen before. Even so, he vowed to not be taken by her wicked spell.
His feet flat in the wet sand, he settled to focus on her chin. There was no harm there. Her spell would not ensnare him if he focused there; that was what he decided.
He recalled something then—of floating in the water, seeing the others being eaten. Just at the brink of drowning, he'd been lifted and pulled backward, someone singing a sweet melody into his ear which put him to sleep. It must have been her. This creature.
"You saved me," he realized aloud, having no idea if she could understand him and not caring much, "but you didn't rescue me, did you? You delivered me here in one piece. Were you so greedy that you couldn't share with the others? Or were you just saving me for later?"
Nathan tried to be harsh, refusing to be tricked by her again. The young woman only stared at him in confusion. Her expression was so fearful—so attractive, even though he did not look directly at it. He felt his resolve with the knife wavering. Was it some power she had over him, or was it his own mind and conscience loosening him? Nathan had no clue. It would have been nice to believe that she had saved his life out of the goodness of her heart, but from what he had seen, the tales he'd been told so recently were true. Mermaids were soulless monsters, wicked in all ways.
"You should have killed me while I was asleep," he said, standing with the knife. This would end now. There would be no more tolerance.
The nymph's eyes widened with realization, clearly knowing what he aimed to do. Her lips parted to make her plea, and he found himself waiting, wondering what she might possibly say in her defense. At the same time, he was afraid for any sound to come out of her mouth. He remembered the hypnotic power of their song, and wanted no part of that a second time.
Nathan had just thought to cover his ears when out came a string of sounds so screeching and high-pitched that he dropped the knife and fell to his knees in the sand, clutching his head. The noise ended shortly after it had begun, but it was like nothing he had ever heard. The wordless screech caused him physical pain just to hear it. But this was no time to be weak. Danger was near.
He lifted his head, expecting to see the creature in her more hideous form, lunging at him hungrily. That was not what he found. Her upper body was still made of lovely skin. A delicate hand was covering her lips, hiding from the sound they had made. Her shining eyes were wide with surprise—not at all the bloodthirsty beast he'd expected. Taking his hands from his ears, Nathan stared at her with uncertainty. Was she shaking? Was that embarrassment in her averted gaze?
"I'm sorry," she uttered quietly.
Nathan stared. He had understood her. There were so many things he wanted to demand, but before he had the chance to respond in any way—to forgive or else rebuke her—she was gone. The nymph dove in and vanished beneath the water, covering a wide distance in a short moment. He could only stare at the reflection of her pale hair and golden tail until she had faded, drifting out of his sight. He was too shocked to react. But then he remembered.
"Wait!" he shouted, climbing to his feet, but his action was several moments too late. "Don't leave me here!"
His voice spanned out to nothing, deserting him completely. All was quiet, and he was no better off than when he had started. He was stranded on an island with nothing but the clothes on his back and the knife by his boot, along with whatever happened to be in his pockets. The wind blew through his hair while it rustled the foliage behind him—a mocking sound. Once again in his life, he was alone.
Comeuppance, was the only thing he could think.
Overcome by this new curse, Nathan lifted his head and shouted over the water, his voice carrying out over the waves as far as it could go without returning to him. When that did not make him feel any better, he repeated himself until he fell down into the sand, breathless.
3
No matter how violently a storm raged on above, it was always calm in the darker depths. The children of the sea were hidden away, protected from the prying eyes of the outside world. There was nothing above the water that needed to see them unless they wanted to be seen, and on this day especially, there was no need. Their bellies were full of human flesh and their wombs full of seed to grow their young. Their need was fulfilled. They could rest now.
The structure they lived in—one of many underwater strongholds below the surface world—had seen more glory in former days when the Sea King had ruled over these strange and wicked people. Human tongues referred to him as Poseidon; others, Neptune. The spiraling walls of stone were encrusted with barnacles and slippery weeds. Around the palace, the forest of underwater plants had overgrown without care or beauty.
Since the death of the king—and only male among them—there had been very little order to what the nymphs did. They still fed twice a year as they had to, now filling their wombs with the fertilizing liquid of the humans to compensate for the missing males of their own kind. Somehow, they managed to conceive, but only more females were born to them. Never another male. This was a problem, tainting their species, but it could not be helped. They did what they must to carry on.
One such female, appointed to be a chief among the rest, sat upon the throne within the palace. Though she was more of a revered general than a queen, leading in battle and exacting punishment for acts that were deemed inappropriate, the society as it had once existed was no more. The nymphs lived for very little aside from feeding and populating. They had truly become as animals.
The reigning nymph, whose true name could not be spoken by the human tongue, tapped her long nails against the slick armrest. The water did not moisten her rough skin, covered from head to tail in hard scales. Her head was like an armored helm, and she had no hair to speak of. She was the fiercest of warriors, and most ambitious among her kind. Her glowing yellow eyes passed over the room, cutting through the darkness. Silently and furiously, she waited.
It was several hours before she received word of her slave. The wayward one had been missing since the feeding, and the Mistress was becoming increasingly sour toward it. This behavior was a direct contradiction to the rules, and if the child knew what was good for her, she would simply be dead upon discovery. That was the only way she would be forgiven for her insolence. There had been too many instances already, too many chances gives. And yet—
When the slave was finally brought home to her, the Mistress felt her lips curl at the sight. Not only did this slave have the nerve to be alive, but she did not even have an injury on her lovely countenance.
The slave was escorted in to the Mistress by two other nymphs, quite a contrast between them. While these captors had gray skin and thick, steely hair, the slave had smooth sun-kissed skin. Her hair was a pure yellow color, unchanged by the sea. She looked very different—human. The only common features were their tails, but even they were not the same. The Mistress's scales were thick, like platelets. This slave's was shimmering and gold, like a spill of coins.
The captors brought the slave to the center of the room and left her there to hover over the floor without restraints. She would stay there. Trying to escape would only get her killed.
The furious Mistress looked toward the young one before her—one of the tainted. She was imperfect among them, not what she should have been, and so she was suitable to be nothing but a slave.
"Explain your absence," the Mistress commanded angrily, her language a series of echoing sounds.
The slave, as nameless as her mistress—Innominata—lifted her glittering, aqua eyes from beneath her cloud of floating hair. There was uncertainty within those eyes. Fear.
"I..."
"Careful with your answer, whelp," the Mistress growled. "You know I am as intolerant of lies as I am of your absence."
The Mistress swam out from her throne, passing in a circle around her slave and wrapping the girl in her tail. With anger on her breath, she leaned in toward the slave's human-shaped ear.
"You know you were not to venture off during the feeding," she hissed viciously. "You were to wait attentively until we were done—to observe, but not interfere."
The slave did not attempt to explain herself. Her plump lips remained sealed.
"Certainly you did not partake..."
"No," came the immediate defense, projected in the same language the Mistress spoke. "I was pressed by the current and was lost. That is all. I beg you to believe me, Mistress. I beg for your mercy."
The Mistress twisted her expression, gripping her slave's throat roughly. Drawing the gills on her neck closer, she took in the scent of the golden one's hair. Unsatisfied with the result of that, the Mistress ran a harsh, serpentine tongue across the servant's smooth face.
"You taste of human," she noted. "Of sweat; of fear. Of man."
The slave lowered her eyes. She had nothing to say to this accusation.
"You are becoming lax in your care," the Mistress warned. She moved closer to her slave's human-like face. "You know that I have only allowed you to live for so long because of your blood—because you may have been my own hatchling. Any other slave would have been long dead for some of the things you have done."
The Mistress slapped the child's face away, deeming it unworthy to look in her direction. There was no resistance in the water. Her webbed hand slid right through it, stinging the slave's face of flesh.
This was not the first time that the Mistress had pondered over the value of this one. Was the girl more trouble than she was worth? Maybe it was so. Still, there was something so attractive about her. While humans were inferior, they were certainly beautiful. This one may not have been worth much as a slave, but she made a lovely ornament.
"I will forgive your insolence this time," the Mistress hissed with a degree of kindness even she could hardly grasp. "You will live another day."
It was clear that the slave was relieved, but much too smart to lift her eyes. Her lips remained closed.
The Mistress swam back to her throne, perching upon it like some chipped statue. She observed her slave—her disgusting beauty. This one would never learn, would she? She would never learn without punishment.
"I will forgive you," she repeated, "but that does not mean that you will not be punished."
At the sound of that, the girl finally lifted her eyes, wide with horror and protest. She shook her head slightly, but the Mistress's mind could not be changed. She smiled a wicked smile.
"Perhaps from now on, you will be more careful in the currents."
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(A/N): And so ends Chapter Two. I hope you enjoyed it as much as the first. :)
On a side note: as many of you might know, my short novel, Jack and Jill was released earlier this week, and if you're looking for more of my works, I'd love for you to check out the full version, now available on Kindle.
http://tinyurl.com/orgmn4m