Droplets (DROPLETS Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

     “From the beginning, we knew there was something different about him: something dark and sinister. My father thought of executing him, but he hesitated. He knew there was a reason my mother had brought him back alive. We waited to see what the man would be, but he remained a mystery. He lacked the powers of a merman. He did not sprout fins when submerged in water, his hair was that of a human’s, and he did not have blades to call his own. In the eyes of many, he was a disgrace.”

     A sear of pain shot through my soul as I realized how difficult
his
life must have been. To not really know who or what he was would be far more excruciating than what I had been through. At least I had been given a forewarning.

     “On top of all his irregularities, Patrick never changed.” It was the first time Kryssa had actually referred to the young man in the story as Patrick; somehow it made the memories more tangible, gave them a life of their own. “We noticed how his hair never grew and how he never looked older. He looks the same today as he did the day I first saw him many years ago.”

     Remembering how old Kryssa was, I tried to grasp what she was saying. 
How old was he?

     “On second thought,” Kryssa said, in an interested voice “he has changed.” She locked her eyes on me. “When he first arrived, he had this awful scar on his right shoulder,” she gestured, dragging a finger along the back of her shoulder blade. “It healed eventually, but then it was a dark scar that shimmered, well, a lot like yours does. Now that I think about it, his must have faded.”

     I thought back to the time we were at the waterfall, trying to remember a scar, but I came up with nothing. If the scar was as dark as she said, surely I would have noticed.

     “I didn’t see one,” I admitted.

     “It’s got to be there though.” Kryssa muttered and then spoke up. “I’ll have to check. Although he doesn’t really like to talk about it.” She made a face and silence fell.

     Outside a great whoosh of wind swept by the palace windows. The leaves in the trees churned restlessly reflecting the whirling thoughts in my mind.

     “Have any of Nerissa’s people ever tried to find Patrick?” I wondered why they would let him go without a fight. If he was something Nerissa had spent time creating, wasn’t he worth fighting for?

     “Yes,” Kryssa nodded solemnly. “The Hyven has been searching for him ever since. There was a battle roughly six years ago, that’s three hundred years for you, where the Hyven infiltrated Lathmor. They had never reached our island before and they came close to capturing Patrick. We were able to get him off of Lathmor in the nick of time, but it cost us many Lathmorian lives.” She paused as tears filled her eyes once more. For some reason I got the feeling this hurt was deeper than the loss of her mother. She shook her head, “It’s why so many merfolk, like Voon, are hostile towards him. Almost everyone lost someone they loved in that battle.”

     The quiet fell between us once more, but my brain was restless. Rather than finding answers, I had formulated more questions. There was too much to ask and not enough time to ask it all.  

     “Is there anything else that you want to know?” She asked. One person stood prominently in my mind, but I had to find the courage to speak his name.

      “Where does,” I gulped, “Morven come into the story? And why does it matter to him whether I’m seventeen or eighteen?”

     “The main reason why Morven probably became angry when he found out how old you were is because of your abilities. Once you turn eighteen, you will become as much a mermaid as I am.” The idea was too incredible to consider. How could it even be possible?

    “You mean, I will be able to control my fins? I could choose to swim without them if I wanted?”

     Kryssa’s head nodded slowly, “That and other things as well.” She perused my face and heaved a sigh. “He really didn’t tell you anything, did he?” The question was rhetorical and the pity in her eyes was a comfort to my confused mind.

     “There are differences between mermaids and mermen. Besides the obvious differences in appearance, each has their own abilities. Mermen can swim and run faster, and are stronger. Mermaids on the other hand, have sharper eye sight and better hearing. It makes it easier to escape when you can hear the enemy before they can hear you.” She winked.

     “Mermen also have the blades to contend with though,” I added, catching on to her good humor.

     “So do we,” she said and the side of her mouth quirked as she flexed her fingers. In the dim glow of the lamp I looked at her hands. Without warning sharp blades projected from her fingertips. They were shiny, similar in texture to the blades I had seen Morven wield, and were at least five inches in length. My jaw dropped open as I looked at them. A familiar tingling sensation surged through my fingertips and I stared at them in wonder.

     “As to your question about Morven,” Kryssa continued, ignoring my fascination with her fingers, “he is believed to be Nerissa and Pyron’s son.”

     Fear pulsed through my veins as I thought of what her words meant. The couple who had started the war between the merfolk bore a son—the very son who had changed me.

     “It is unknown what happened to Pyron, but we believe Morven is trying to finish what his parents, or more particularly his mother, started.”

     I opened my mouth to question her some more, but couldn’t get my thoughts in order. Everything was a question in this new world where flashing blades and black arts took precedence over peace. 

     “I can’t think of just one question right now,” I said, slightly ashamed. Kryssa laughed.

     “That’s to be expected.” Grabbing a section of her long black hair, she began to twist it in her fingers. “I do have one more question for you, though.”

     “Yes?”

     “Did you ever see Morven before the night he changed you?”

     Immediately I began to shake my head, but then I paused. The memory of a murmur and the shimmering of fins pressed upon my mind.

     “Actually yes, he did see me.” Kryssa’s eyes kindled with intensity. “The night before the storm I was out on deck singing to myself when I began to hear another sound. It was like a murmur and it hummed with me for a while.” Just thinking of the memory caused goosebumps to rise on my flesh. “When I tried to see what the sound was, I heard a loud splash. I later saw a gray shimmer in the water a ways off. It felt like something was looking at me and I know it was him.”

     Kryssa‘s lips were pressed tightly together, her jaw taut with something I didn’t understand. “Well,” she said in a light tone that didn’t match her expression. “I guess we had better get some rest.

     Rather than argue, I acquiesced and climbed under the covers, all the while knowing there was something she wasn’t telling me. The sheets felt cool and fresh against my body, and it wasn’t long before I heard Kryssa’s slow, steady breathing.

     My exhausted mind slowed its soaring thoughts and fell into a place of relaxation. The last sight behind my eyes was the anger on Patrick’s face before he walked out the door and away from me. 

18. Worries

The roar of breaking waves filled my ears. Blurry images with soft patches of sunlight confounded my eyes. There was a deep desire within my body to find something, I just didn’t know what. Part of my brain wondered if I was dreaming, but the other part was unsure. I tried to recall the last memories of life, but they wouldn’t come. I was tired, hungry, and afraid. I needed food, shelter, and help. Gazing around at the blurry beach, I looked for what I was trying to find. Then I saw a man walking toward me. My body immediately relaxed as I realized this was what I had been looking for. The man continued toward me. His gait strong and powerful, I didn’t recognize him. When he got closer, I saw who he was. It was Patrick! My heart skipped a beat as he lifted his dark eyes to mine. A brilliant smile lit his face and I smiled happily back. He reached a hand out toward me and our palms met. I turned and walked with him, continuing in the direction he had been headed. Part of my mind remembered doing this before—I couldn’t recall if it had been real or in a dream. Then, all of a sudden, Patrick stopped walking. Fear tickled my insides. I was unsure of what was happening, but instinct told me it wasn’t good. I gazed at Patrick, wondering if he knew what was happening. My heart squeezed in horror. His eyes were filled with terror and there was no trace of the happy smile I had seen moments earlier. He was staring into the distance as though he could see something I couldn’t. His hand squeezed mine tighter as though he was terrified to let go. I held on, desperately wondering what it was that caused him to act like this. He stepped in front of me as if to shield me from some unseen enemy. And then he was gone. My hand held nothing. He had disappeared. Pain and anguish speared my heart.

I fell to my knees, sobs wracking my body.

And then it was all black.

I could remember nothing, feel nothing.

I drifted in a mindless world of the unknown.

_______________

    When my eyes finally did open, it took a while for them to adjust to the bright light streaming in through the pale green curtains hanging in the massive window. My mind felt clogged and fuzzy. I glanced to my left and saw Kryssa beside me, her dark, straight hair tangled all about her shoulders. With a slow mind, reality seeped in. Clarity felt wonderful. I turned my head back to the ceiling and tried to recall my dream. It took time, but recollection slowly infiltrated my mind as a nagging dread crept into my blood.

     Kryssa rolled over on the bed beside me, her sleepy face pointed in my direction. She squinted with one eye to let in some light, and swore softly. I laughed at her expression, causing the bed to jostle slightly. She raised an eyebrow and opened the same eye again.

     “Sorry. I’m just not a morning person,” she grumbled.

     “That’s okay,” I said, smiling at her. She yawned loudly. I raised my hands above my head to stretch. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” I asked her.

     She shook her head. “Don’t know, don’t care.”

    “Oh, come on,” I said, nudging her shoulder. “You had enough sleep, look how bright it is outside!” Kryssa suddenly bolted up from the bed.

     “We had better get moving!” She exclaimed and ran to the closet. I followed behind her, but was just at the entrance to the large closet when clothes were thrown at me. I caught them and changed quickly. Kryssa came out of the closet a moment later fully dressed, her tangled hair pulled back into a loose braid.

     “Come on,” she said urgently and I followed her out of the bedroom.

     “What’s the matter?”

     “Nothing,” she said while she walked faster than I had ever seen her move before. “We just need to tell them about when Morven first saw you.” Goosebumps rose on my flesh as I realized what she was asking of me.

     We whipped through deserted halls, continuing to skirt the main rooms of the palace, moving unseen within the shadows. Kryssa was serious, her eyes focused in front and her gait determined. I kept up with her easily, though the speed at which she walked surprised me and only heightened my senses.

     Rounding a corner, two mermen came into our view. They called out to us as we approached.

     “Daggin,” Kryssa nodded toward the blonde merman who had stuck close to Nixie’s side the night before. “Elik.”

     Both mermen nodded in return.

     “Is the king in his study?” She asked quickly, wasting no time to get to the point.

     “No,” Daggin’s voice was deeper than I had expected for such a young face. “He is speaking with the soldiers in the throne room.”

     Kryssa muttered under her breath and I watched as she debated what to do next.

     “Tunder came back after leaving last night. He’s with Shaylee.” Elik said. My interest rose. If Tunder had returned, it meant Patrick was no longer angry.
Right?

     With a quick bob of her head, Kryssa made up her mind and squeezed through the two mermen.

     “We’ll gladly escort you there,” Elik offered as he began to walk beside her.

     “Lissie and I can manage, thank you,” Kryssa’s sharp tone made me wonder at her feelings toward Elik. She had never used such a stern voice with anyone other than him.

     “All the same, Daggin and I will follow you. We have business with Tunder.”

     “Sure you do,” the sarcasm in her tone was evident.

     Puzzled, I looked to Daggin for clarification, but he just shook his head from side to side as if to tell me it was not worth explaining. We proceeded forward in silence. Kryssa’s posture became even stiffer.

     We sped into a thin hall that was different from the rest of the palace. Its area was closed and tightly shrouded, instead of open and bright. The hall reminded me of a medieval castle with its dark walls and shadowy corners. At the end of the passageway was a spiraling staircase that led upward. We reached the top of the ascending blocks in seconds and approached an ancient looking wooden door.

      I expected Kryssa to knock, but instead she yanked on the metal latch and entered the concealed room unceremoniously. The furnishings and structure of this room matched the medieval stairwell. The room we stood in was a sitting area of sorts, antique sofas and cushions decorated the living space while large blue heavy-looking curtains covered the windows. The only light in the room came from a crack in the curtains. Elik drew back the thick fabric, letting the sunshine enter in unrestricted.

     Directly across from where we stood, creating a path to the next room, was a tiny staircase beneath an intricately decorated stone archway. Matching blue curtains hung beside the opening and darkness filled the opposite side of the doorway. I had a feeling it led to a bedroom. 

     “Tunder? Shaylee?” Kryssa called out loudly, startling me.

     Silence met her calls and I wondered at the possibility of Tunder already having left. I glanced at Kryssa nervously. I could tell our minds were in the same place, since a worried expression lined her features.

     I then heard the scrape of what sounded like a large door and looked to the place where I believed the sound had come from. Peering into the darkness behind the archway, Tunder’s masculine form slowly took shape and he stepped out of the shadows.

     He was rubbing his eyes from the bright light, his face groggy with sleep. I couldn’t help but stare at his large biceps which bulged against the sleeves of his white shirt. Taking a moment to gather his bearings, he then addressed us softly. 

     “Kryssa,” he nodded at her, his deep voice filling the room, “And Lissie.” He looked at me and nodded again. “Is there something I can do for you both?”

     His face was more relaxed than it had been the night before. Something in his eyes had softened, making him appear less harsh. His posture was welcoming rather than hostile.

     “Well.” Kryssa paused, not really sure how to begin. Her eyes moved to Daggin and Elik as if unsure of whether they were liable to hear what she had to say. “Lissie told me something last night which I think is of great importance. I wanted to take it to my father, but he is busy at the moment.”

     Tunder nodded, “Why don’t you tell me and I can deem whether it is worth troubling him.”

     Kryssa nodded and was just about to speak, when the door that must have stood somewhere behind the archway creaked loudly. Shaylee stepped into the living room, her curly hair lying in perfect waves even though her clothes suggested she had just woken up. She smiled when she saw us.

     “Hi, everybody,” her voice was soft and rounded, her former sharp tone no longer traceable. As if attracted to his very presence, she strode toward Tunder, fitting perfectly into the side of his body underneath his arm.

     “Hey,” I replied, but Kryssa remained silent.

    For a while the room remained quiet, each of us waiting for the other to take the initiative. There was an unknown wondering in the air, a palpable sense of something important. My stomach tightened in agitation as I tried to figure out how to begin, how to bring up what might be my reason for being changed. 

     “What are you girls here for?” Shaylee asked, her question direct, but rounded perfectly by a relaxed yawn. 

     I looked to Kryssa, hoping she would answer. She looked frozen in place. I wondered why she was so worried about this. I also wished that she would stop looking like that because she was making it worse for me.

     “Well,” Kryssa paused again, as uncertain as I was about how to move on. “Lissie told me something last night which I think could be important.”

     “Oh,” Shaylee said, her mouth circling and her brow creasing. Elik and Daggin moved closer to where we stood, not wanting to be left out.

     “Yes,” I said. “Umm, it’s about the night I was changed.” Tunder nodded his head for me to continue, and I proceeded while trying to ignore the worry running through my mind. “Morven saw me once before I was thrown overboard.”

     If the tension had been tangible before, it was nothing compared to now. It was a weighted physical presence in the room, as real as the people standing before me.

     I continued, explaining how I had been singing on the boat alone the night before the storm. Part of my mind cursed myself for bringing everything into action by simply singing. But I had done it numerous times before, how was I supposed to have known a merman would hear me that time? 

     Coming to the end I let my voice fall silent. Shaylee was twirling a strand of hair around her fingers while she looked at Tunder, who had moved to one of the couches to sit. He leaned on his knees, his eyes boring into the floor, but his mind was obviously elsewhere.

     “Is it important?” Daggin’s deep voice surprised me again.

     Tunder nodded, “Yes, it’s very important.” He fell silent and it seemed as though he would not elaborate further. Frustrated, I tried to wait patiently, knowing he knew more about this than anyone else in the room.

     Tunder was the first to break the silence with a loud exhale. I thought I heard him swear softly under his breath as he rubbed his hands over his face. He looked stressed when he finally pulled his hands away.

     Shaylee walked over and touched his arm gently. His unfocused eyes snapped back to reality.

     “What is it, sweetheart?” Shaylee brushed a hand along the side of his face.

     “He’s going to use her,” Tunder revealed. The sensation of feeling trapped wrapped around my body, pressing upon me as though it was trying to suffocate me.  I struggled not to panic.

     “What do you mean?” Kryssa asked abruptly from where she stood by my side.

     “Our worst fear has been realized,” Tunder said disbelievingly. By the looks on everyone’s faces, they were all as confused as I was.

     “What fear?” Elik voiced.

     “Morven is going to use Lissie to overtake us. He will use her power”

    
Power? What power?
This wasn’t what I had been expecting.

     My heart pounded sporadically, waiting desperately for what he would say next and feeling more and more like a piece in a game of wills.

     “Somehow Nerissa figured out how to transform a human into a creature that could contend with the strength and of a merman or mermaid. She said these beings could be controlled to do her bidding.” A chill ran through my spine, I remembered what it was like the night he came to Coveside. I recalled how I felt like an object of his choice that he could control.

     Tunder looked directly at me, speaking quickly to further explain. “The whole reason we avoid humans is because they are inferior. In ancient times, some mermaids used to watch sailors. Seeing how lonely they were at sea, they would sing to them. But their efforts only crazed the humans. The men would become so obsessed with what they heard, and sometimes saw, that they would die or drown trying to find merfolk. For this reason it was decreed that all merfolk would avoid human contact and thus we have remained a mystery to the human world.

     “Yet, some continued to pursue humans since it gave them a sense of control. They would prey upon ships or coastal villages, revealing themselves only enough to make humans curious or transfixed with seeing them again. These are the merfolk which gave rise to the human myth of sirens.”