The Sea Will Tell You Things

High in the sky above, the last sliver of moon shown weakly down. Just one more night and it would be gone. Marcos welcomed and dreaded the nights it went to sleep. A dark moon exposed lights on ships careless enough to leave them lit. A bright moon showed whitecaps churning over reefs and crashing to shore. When the moon was awake, it showed the path to safety.
“If only the wind would pick up,” he thought. “We’d make port faster and I could hear the waves if we get too close.”
The wind fled as soon as the storm wore itself out five days ago. A week ago, he was certain they’d go down. But the Captain fought the storm, yelling and cursing at it from the wheel, defying it through force of will. For two days he kept their course true until the storm surrendered. Only then did the Captain retire.
The midnight watch should be the quietest. Marcos couldn’t remember the last time they’d been roused from bed to fight. He didn’t dare go to sleep.
A sip to keep him warm and awake. Scan the horizon. Watch for pirates. See which country’s colors a ship flew. Never fall asleep.
He felt something behind him.
If he could reach his knife, he might live to see the morning. Could he draw it fast enough?
“I’ll give ye a choice, boy. Fight or talk.”
The voice was old, full of gravel and strength. It held expectation of a fight, yet hope he wouldn’t.
Marcos slowly turned around. On the other side of the crow’s nest, a yard away, stood a bare-chested man with white hair and beard, breeches that looked like they were made from scales, holding a trident.
“I’m not seeing this,” Marcos thought. “There’s no one here.” He carefully looked down at the stern where the first mate manned the wheel.
“What has you so scared that you deny the truth before your eyes?” the apparition asked him.
Marcos turned back around and looked at the water below. “If I jump, maybe I’ll get lucky and be dead before I come back up,” he wished fervently.
The apparition chucked. “Perhaps not something, but someone, eh?”
He turned back around. The man had perched himself on the railing of the nest, perfectly at ease.
Marcos stole another glance at the stern. The first mate was still at his post, unaware of the danger their ship was in.
“Don’t worry about him. He has his beliefs, but those who do not truly believe cannot see or hear.”
Still not trusting this was real, he answered, “It’s the cap’n.”
Another chuckle. “Ah, yis. That one. We have an agreement, he and I. He ignores me as much as he can and I allow him to go on his way. But what is it about him, lad?
“He’s unnatural. He knows things,” Marcos whispered.
“‘Knows things’? Knows what?”
“When you’re shirking. When you’re asleep. I’ve seen him passed out, dead drunk from a half dozen flagons of his private brew, only to march out the door a second later to haul someone down from the nest because they nodded off. They stay awake after they’ve felt the whip.”
The man was not impressed. “A Captain must maintain discipline. A man who strays from his duties is as bad as one who sinks the ship.”
“It’s not just that. He always knows our course but he never checks the starts. I hear he’s banned from the horse races in the entire known world.”
“The smart ones have. There may be a track tucked away somewhere that hasn’t learned yet the hard way.”
The stranger tapped the trident handle against his leg. “Surely your Captain isn’t a monster. There must be more to him than his unnaturalness.”
Marcos tried to hide how nervous the trident made him. “Well, he does make sure the food aboard ship is good and lets us go ashore. My last cap’n sailed past ports that would have bought our cargo. If the price wasn’t what he wanted, we stayed below decks and hoped the next time would be better.”
“Another balancing act,” the man commented. “A good Captain keeps his crew happy but in line. It’s far better to build loyalty than always be looking to replace bodies.”
“That’s true,” Marcos admitted. “There’s some aboard that told me they’d follow him to Davy Jones’ Locker. He’ll spot you coin for a brew or a tumble on leave if you’re short, but he always gives you a choice: take it from future wages or earn it with extra work. Most choose work.”
The man laced his fingers together and stretched to the sky, leaning backwards far enough he should have fallen out. Marcos noticed the trident stayed upright, balanced on its butt end, like it had been driven into the floor.
“He always was a smart one, even when he was little,” the man observed. “He doesn’t like it, but I check on him from time to time, like tonight. You’re new. I haven’t seen you on his ship before.”
Marcos was still wary, but felt he was warming to this man. “Yes, sir. I signed aboard at Christmas. The cap’n found me in a tavern, eyin’ a maid and countin’ how much time I could buy with her. I didn’t have enough and settled for rum. Before I knew it, she was leading me upstairs, lettin’ me know she was my Christmas present from him.”
Bawdy laughter echoed off the sails. “I hope you got his money’s worth out of the lass.”
“Oh, yes, and then some. He paid extra.”
“I bet she was warm and cuddly, and knew how to make you give up your life at sea.”
“And then some,” Marcos repeated.
“Do you miss her?”
He had to consider that. “I think I do. She wasn’t the first and I hope she won’t be the last. But even tho’ she’d been paid, I think she was int’rested in me, diff’rent than any other man she’d said the words to before.”
The man wagged his finger at Marcos. “Careful, boy. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ve known women who could convince you they’d descended from Olympus on the back of Pegasus while they’re cutting your purse strings and thinking of ways to get ye out the door.”
“I don’t think she’s like that,” Marcos said defensively.
“If she is, best to learn it quick before yer heart gets broken.”
Marcos didn’t want to talk about this any more. He knew in his heart she wouldn’t lead him on. He turned away and scanned the horizon, looking for ships or any other dangers.
The man scanned the horizon, too, looking further in the distance to the coming dawn still hours away. With all in order, he made his way the few steps across the crow’s nest, avoiding the bucket Marcos pissed in. He settled next to Marcos with his elbows on the rail.
“What else have you learned from your Captain besides the value of a coin?”
“Some’s the same as any cap’n would teach. When the red sky helps and hurts. To steer away from storms if they give you enough warning. Seeking a sheltered cove.
“There’s other things, like payin’ attention in an alehouse to more than jus’ the wenches and your cup. Listen more than you talk and you might hear of a port further down the coast needs somethin’ you have and will pay a pretty penny for.”
Marcos dug something out of his pocket and handed it to the man. “He wants me to learn to read. What do I need to learn readin’ for? You don’t need letters to teach you how to raise an anchor or haul a barrel on your back. My father never learned, nor his father, nor his.”
“‘Your hair is as the sun, your lips soft as roses. Your eyes shine like diamonds. I want to lose myself in them and grow old with you. Live with me by the sea and I will treat you every day like the goddess you are.’”
Marcos stared at him with surprise.
“The letters are small, but that’s what’s written on this plank,” the man said as he turned it over and handed it back. “It’s called poetry. You read this to Belinha and you jes’ might get your answer.”
“How do you know her name?” Marcos demanded.
“I know many things, Marcos Winden. I know matters of the heart. I know the depths of the sea. I know the joy and sorrow of war. I know what it is like to have fame and devotion fade, your relevance fading with it.” He pointed off the starboard side. “I know that those dolphins have stayed close since the storm passed.”
“I don’t see any.”
The water brightened as if the sun had appeared and Marcos did see. Eight or nine milky gray dolphins swimming slowly alongside, far enough away you couldn’t hit them with a rock even from up here. The night returned seconds later.
“Dolphins can be a sailor’s salvation. If you had jumped overboard like you were thinking, they would have saved you. It’s deceptive. They always seem so happy to see those who sail on my seas, but you’ve never seen one cry when they know the sailor they rescued wanted to die. It hurts them more than you can ever know.”
The man grabbed ahold of his shoulders, squeezing until Marcos felt like he’d be crushed.
“You must treat dolphins with respect,” he said. “If you find one in your net, free it so it can save you one day.” He only released Marcos when he knew he understood.
He brought out a crystal flask from his back pocket. “The night’s growing cold. You need warming up. Just a sip, though. It’s equal to the Captain’s brew.”
Marcos accepted the flask and pulled the stopper. He took the tiniest of sips and dropped the flask when the dragon tried to claw its way down his throat into his belly.
The stranger who was becoming less of a stranger as the night marched on, picked the flask up and pulled the stopper out of Marcos’ frozen fingers. He knocked back a larger shot and sealed it again. “The finest spirit in the finest crystal, tougher than I am, not that I would try. Both are works of beauty.”
Marcos could only nod as he willed his heart to start beating again.
“There’s more to learn. The letters and numbers you think worthless, Mr. Winden, can unlock more than just the treasure of a woman’s love. If you ever want to be a Captain yourself, you must learn them until they are as natural to you as breathing.
“A Captain must also learn as much of the world around him as possible. Knowing the customs of a land can prevent a duel or win a deal. What to avoid. What to embrace. Learning, Mr. Winden. A passion that would serve you well.”
The man suddenly grabbed his upper arm. The trident flew to his other hand. “For all there is to see on the land, there is more to see in the sea.”
Before Marcos could stop him and escape his grasp, the man leapt over the railing of the crow’s nest, dragging Marcos with him. They plunged into the cold and darkness of the ocean. Marcos blacked out from terror.
- - -
When he could open his eyes, he was deep underwater. It was not pitch black, but like dusk. It was not freezing cold, but cool.
Marcos looked upwards. He couldn’t see the ship. He couldn’t see anything, not even the man. He thrashed around, trying to find anything that would tell him where he needed to go.
His hands passed in front of his face as he steadied himself in the water. There was something wrong with them. Skin joined his fingers together up to the first knuckle, extending to the second knuckle for his thumb. Both hands had been changed! What unholy magic was this?
He had to get back to the ship! The cap’n would know what to do. But where was the ship? How far up did he need to go?
He swam for ages and still didn’t break the surface. He drifted to a halt when he realized his hands weren’t the only thing wrong. He hadn’t breathed for several minutes.
“That’s it. I’m dead. I’ve been poisoned and I fell in the water and I’m dead.”
He never thought of hell as being wet. His village had been visited by different religions. Most preached you burned if you were bad. He didn’t expect he’d ever get to heaven, not the way he lived. Belinha wasn’t the first woman he’d cuddled with. Some of the priests said if you did that when you weren’t married, you had no chance of forgiveness. Others said it was possible for a price. But whether it was asking forgiveness or giving up coin, he had planned on doing it later so maybe when he got to hell it wouldn’t be as bad.
Something still wasn’t right. He could feel his lungs working and his legs seemed to be stuck together. He put his hands in front of his mouth. Water flowed inward past them, but not out. He felt his neck. There were ridges there that weren’t there before. The water that wouldn’t leave his mouth now pushed past his fingers as those ridges rose and fell.
He looked down. He was naked, but it stopped at his waist. Below that, silver scales glistened and his legs had changed into a long tail, complete with fins at the end. He experimented with moving it around. It was completely flexible. He could bend it in any way he wanted.
Marcos twisted his new tail around so that the end was close to his face. He grabbed ahold of it, examining it closely. A small ridge ran from the fins up the tail. He reached behind him where what was left of his buttocks were. The valley in between was nearly gone, a suggestion of its former self, but the ridge started at the bottom. “The bottom of my bottom,” he thought stupidly.
He warily looked down again. Something appeared to be missing, something very important to him. Something that Belinha had been very appreciative of as they shook the bed.
Panic rose as he groped at the area. Where was it? If he was a merman now, how did they shake whatever passed for a bed down here?
He heard the bawdy laughter again.
The man came into view, moving forward as his tail effortlessly swished back and forth. “I never tire of the show you humans put on when you first get down here. Every time, you go right for what you think is most important. It’s even funnier when the women start looking for shells to cover themselves. I haven’t seen one yet that fits them right.”
He made a few slow circles around Marcos. “If you are done pawing at yourself, we have a ways to go and there’s many things to teach you.” He turned and swam downward at a shallow angle. Wherever he was going, it had to be safer there.
Marcos tried to claw his way through the water, the only way he knew how to swim. He fell behind for a while until he saw the other man didn’t use his arms at all. His tail did all the work, with occasional changes to his course from the arms. Marcos let his arms drift to his sides and concentrated on catching up. Soon he was alongside his companion.
They passed schools of fish, manta rays and even some sharks. Any time the sharks came near, the man pointed with his trident and they left. Plants and coral appeared as the reached the bottom of the ocean. Things Marcos had never seen before scuttled around and amongst them.
The further they went, the brighter the water grew. Fields became visible with tall strands of kelp or seaweed or something else growing in them. Mermen and merwomen worked them while others with tridents stood guard, constantly watching the skies. No, not ‘skies’, Marcos told himself.
Near one end of a field they passed next to, a merwoman sat as she plucked seaweed and put it into a basket with a trap entrance that would keep the plants from drifting back out. “Oh, they really don’t cover themselves, do they?” he thought to himself and he got a hint that maybe not everything had gone missing when he was changed.
A small mer-child swam over to her. He guessed it was a boy by the face, maybe a year old. The mother cradled him in her arms and held him close. Marcos quickly looked away when the baby started nursing.
At the end of the fields, a tall coral arch stood with guards that came to attention as they approached. There was no fence and nothing to prevent them from swimming around or over the arch. In fact, other than guards stationed a long distance apart, around and above them, there was nothing to prevent any­one from entering the city from any direction they chose. Marcos commented on it.
“All are welcome here, except sharks and other predators,” he was told. “Long ago, our cities were enclosed, but the ground shakes, even down here. Rebuilding is far easier when you don’t have to dig your way out of a cavern first.”
Marcos could understand. The village he grew up in flooded every few years during spring. A small number of caves were high enough to escape the waters. Even then, sometimes not high enough.
His companion had to be someone important. Everywhere they went, guards came to attention or people waved. Marcos thought he knew who he might be, but didn’t want to trust his eyes. If he was right, he might not be as safe as he thought.
A palace lay ahead, brightly lit with spots of light along its walls in multiple colors except for blue. No candle he knew of could burn underwater nor shine that bright. It was marvelous to behold. Instead of going inside, he was led to a large pasture nearby surrounded by a coral fence.
Behind the fence were seahorses larger than himself. They milled around behind, grazing or playing with each others. His companion approached the fence and several swam over to receive petting and affection.
“What makes them stay behind the fence?” Marcos asked.
“I ask them,” the man replied. “I enjoy watching horses of the land and the sea race. You can watch the next race in a few days, if you choose to stay.”
Stay? The city was wonderous, but to stay? To never go back on land? To have a tail instead of legs, forever? Could he give it up? Could he give Belinha up? He wanted to see her again, read her the poetry written on the wood, but it was gone. How did it go? ‘Your hair is roses, your eyes are the sun’? No! It was slipping away!
Marcos suddenly felt very small and very alone. He wanted to be back in the crow’s nest, even if it meant he’d be beaten for falling asleep. This had to be a dream. No, a nightmare. To be shown wonders and asked to give up his life? He couldn’t think of anything else right then more horrible.
The man slipped an arm across his shoulders. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you loved her that much. I will take you back.”
“I do want to go back, but I also want to see more. I’ll never see this ever again. I want to remember it forever.”
He was guided through a garden with flowers that seemed to have decided that they liked it here better than above ground. Roses and lilies and lilacs and tulips and on and on and on. A rock wall had been built along the edge where water bluer than all the water around it flowed down like a waterfall and collected in a pool. Mosses and ferns glowed, just as content as the flowers to be where they could not be.
A school with the young children in the yard, playing games only just different from those that played on land. Next door, older children recited words he recognized from another language, one a priest had spoken before Marcos decided he would start living his life somewhere other than the valley with all the same people who didn’t have enough sense to realize it was pointless to live where you had to rebuild over and over again and find places to bury the dead so they stayed buried when the next flood came. When the priest was caught breaking one of the commandments that he himself had beaten everyone over the head with just days before, Marcos knew it was time to leave.
Soldiers trained and sparred with each other as the leader yelled at them to always be vigilant and observant. Fighting with tridents and spears, using their tails to restrain or deflect. Military precision and discipline he’d never seen before. Women fighting alongside the men.
In a courtyard, an artist swam around a large block of marble, stopping every so often to place the chisel and strike a blow. It looked like it would become a large cat like a jaguar or lion. The block had been recovered when a ship sank in the same storm that had cause Marcos’ ship so much grief.
A young man courted a young woman in a secluded corner of another garden, reciting poetry he’d written. Marcos stopped to listen, awed by the beauty of both the words and the woman. He was noticed, but neither objected to his presence.
As he listened, he wondered at what point he stopped thinking of them as ‘mer-people’ and just as ‘people’. If he stayed, would they become his people or would he always remain an outsider? But if he did, he wouldn’t have the chance to see Belinha any more.
The lights were everywhere, held in small containers that could be shut when they decided night should fall. How did they know? The sun couldn’t reach here. They had their own little suns in bright and cheery colors. It could be day forever or night forever, whichever they chose.
The more he saw, the more wanted to stay. His life on the ship couldn’t compare to this. If there was only a way to bring Belinha here. She was as beautiful as any of the impossible flowers. She’d want to stay, he knew it.
An alarm sounded, a deep horn rolling through the city. The guards that discretely followed them readied themselves.
A new guard swam up to them and saluted. “Your Majesty, sharks are attacking the farmers. We have them at bay for now, but we need you.”
Marcos was immediately fearful for the mother and her baby he’d seen. A shark could eat the child whole.
“Summon the recruits. They can shore up the defenses. Which field?”
“Fourteen, Your Majesty.”
If Marcos had any doubts before, they were settled. The man who had brough him here was Neptune, god of the oceans.
Neptune turned to him and said, “Stay here. This battle is not for the likes of you.” And he swam away with incredible speed trailing guards behind him, who fell in line as their ranks grew.
Marcos wanted to obey. Defying a god was a very dangerous thing. But he could not stay. He had to see. He swam as fast as he could in the direction they headed.
He got there in time to see soldiers circled around the farmers, spears pointed out, warding off any sharks that got to close. He found a rock to hide behind and watched.
The soldiers were calm, not frightened, but they were not striking the sharks that kept darting towards them. He spotted Neptune, striking a large shark with his shoulder, pushing it out of the way.
All around, the men defending or fighting were avoiding hurting the sharks. Marcos couldn’t understand why? Just kill them and be done with it!
The answer came when a trident snagged on the gill of one of the sharks, tearing it. A trickle of blood streamed out as the shark swam away. Some of the guards he’d seen training earlier now looked scared. Very scared. They tightened their grip on their weapons.
The larger shark Neptune had been herding picked up the scent of the blood in the water and dove for it. The guards had no choice but to aim their weapons towards the onslaught. The shark impaled itself on a dozen spears, releasing a plume of blood.
The guards quickly worked to free their weapons and looked in all directions at once, trying to gauge where the next attack would come from. The water started churning as even the smaller sharks dove in and out to find food. One tore the arm off a guard just above the elbow. Marcos didn’t think it was possible to scream that loud under water.
Neptune assessed the battle. Any hope of ending it without casualties was lost. “Fall back! Get the farmers to safety! Now!”
Strips of seaweed were pulled out of the basket and tied around the damaged area. It slowed the bleeding, but even a drop was too much. With a shaking hand, the man pressed it against the stump of his own arm to hold back as much blood as possible.
Sharks harried the soldiers trying to get the wounded man back to the city. More sharks had to be killed just to save themselves. This gave the new sharks that kept arriving something else to strike. The ones that wouldn’t go for the larger targets had to be killed as well. Others swam right past to the bodies left behind.
Marcos realized he was still in the middle of the battle field. The rock would afford him no pro­tection if blood flowed his way and a shark followed the scent. He darted from rock to rock and gulley to gulley, laying down in between the rows of plants any time one even looked his way.
In one of the gulleys, he found the baby. It had a terrible bruise on its head and was unconscious. In the panic of the feeding frenzy, it had been left behind. The mother must have been frightened for her own survival if she hadn’t noticed yet.
A very large shadow passed overhead. The largest shark he’d ever seen entered the fray, tearing the first dead shark in two as it swam. It saw the people trying to reach the city and chased after them.
It passed right by Neptune, who had just finished dispatching another shark. He saw what the shark was pursuing. He knew there was no time to spare.
Neptune grew larger and larger until he dwarfed the shark and swam after it. He caught the tail and used it to climb up the shark’s back, sinking his fingers deep into the flesh as he fought his way forward. The shark rolled, trying to shake him.
Neptune reached the head and wrapped his arms around the shark’s jaw, squeezing it shut. He curled his tail around the shark’s body and began squeezing that, restricting its movements. The shark slowed down and began thrashing as it struggled to breathe. Neptune held on, his body covering one side of the gills as the shark slowly choked to death. Only when he was certain it was dead did he let go. The damage to its back he caused meant it would soon become a meal for others.
The god looked through the fields to make sure no one had been left behind and swam as fast as he could to rejoin the others in the city.
Marcos moved to the next row. The baby hadn’t woken up yet. He could see the gills were still moving. It was still breathing.
With the sharks behind him now going after the larger meal Neptune had left behind, Marcos made his way back to the city, passing what was left of other dead sharks. Crabs were already starting to pick at what was left of the flesh.
The city wasn’t a safe harbor yet. Some sharks had followed the blood, but the stationed guards could be brought in and helped fend them off. For many, they just needed to be convinced the meal wasn’t worth it any more.
“Take him to the fire room,” Marcos heard someone yell. The wounded man was swam towards a dome with two helping him and the three dipped down and disappeared through a hole near the base.
The training grounds seemed to be the rallying point. Marcos headed there. The woman looked around, frantic. “Actol! Where’s Actol!”
Marcos wearily approached. “I think I’ve got him.” The mother lifted him out of his arms, crying with relief, fussing over the injury. Marcos collapsed onto the ground.
Neptune shrank down to his normal size. “You were told to stay,” he said angrily.
“I had to see,” Marcos replied. “I’d never get to see it again.”
“You did well, boy. A child is alive because of you.”
Marcos chose that moment to pass out.
- - -
The lights were low in the room when Marcos woke up, with no idea if that meant night or just so he could rest. The woman sat in a chair with her baby at her breast, bruise on his head still visible, a lighter purple than before. Where did they get a chair? Maybe that same ship, he supposed.
She looked up when she heard him stir. “I wanted to be here when you woke to thank you. I hadn’t even noticed he was missing.”
“I almost missed him myself.”
“King Neptune says you’re from the surface. I was once, too.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mallie.”
“How long have you been here?”
She cocked her head and replied, “Since yesterday and since forever. Time is different here. We try not to concern ourselves with affairs above the waves, but it is impossible to ignore them forever.”
Marcos’ stomach rumbled. “Is there anything to eat?”
“We still have plenty of shark left.”
He was surprised. Everything he’d seen had been plants. He assumed that’s what they ate.
“We do eat plants by first choice, but should the opportunity arise....” she told him and her voice trailed off. Obviously, it had.
The next thing he wondered about was how it would be cooked and he asked about it.
“It is not needed most of the time, but as you are new here, we will make provisions for you. The King showed us long ago how to use the fire boxes to treat wounds or cook food. We once had something called ‘barbacoa’, I think it was?”
Marcos shook his head. “I have not heard of that.”
“You would not have missed it. It was not very good. You must eat very quickly for it gets wet the moment you take it out of the box. As will your meal, I am afraid.”
He was still hungry, but he felt stronger. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Since yesterday and since forever,” she said with a smile. “The King said if you woke up while I was here, it would be two days.”
Marcos groaned. The cap’n would flay him alive when he returned! To abandon your post meant that or keelhauling!
Maybe he ought to stay. He was as good as dead if he went back now.
He suddenly realized that he might be feeling hungry and feeling stronger, but he was also feeling something very disturbing.
“Um, I need to... to, really, ah, y-you know. How do I...?” He’d curse as the day was long in front of anyone, excep’n the cap’n. There were jus’ some things he daren’t say in front of a lady.
Mallie’s eyes widened. “Oh, I’d forgotten. This is new to you, too.” She pointed at a door. “Go inside and sit. It will be carried away.”
Marcos quickly swam into the room and closed the door as fast as he could. The room was tiny with nothing but a small shelf jutting out next to a hole in the wall. He felt the water flowing past him towards the hole, encouraging him to sit next to it. Relief came as a cloud of liquid and solids emerged behind him before it disappeared.
He returned, looking both sheepish and grateful. “It took me a while to get used to it,” Mallie said. “I thought I never would.”
“Do I want to know where it goes?”
“I have not inquired.”
Marcos decided right then and there he would not ask, either, but he was thankful for how big the ocean was and put it out of his mind.
Mallie made sure Actol was finished and let him swim around. He was not quite so discrete and Marcos quickly got out of the way as that flowed towards the room. Mallie put her hands along her baby’s sides and steered him as she led Marcos outside.
They swam down the street, going no faster than Actol could handle. Mallie pointed out the new defenses going into place. The sharks that lived might return.
After a while, he asked, “Where is his father?”
“I have not seen him forever. He was sent to a faraway land to treat with their king. A request was made to grant safe passage for someone, I believe. I hope he will return soon.”
Mallie took him to a small forest with an abundance of short trees covered in fruits the shape of pears and lemons, but not of those colors. The flesh was tart, turning sweet as she helped him learn to keep the ocean out of his stomach when he swallowed. It was not as difficult as he feared.
Later, they passed the garden he recognized where the same couple sat on a rocky outcropping, holding each other, their tails intertwined. The courting had come to a close and bode well for their future union. He hoped the wedding would be a happy one, the wedding night even happier.
As they continued the swim to give himself and Actol some exercise, people converged and headed in the same direction. The lights were brighter at the far side of the city where it was obvious they would go.
There were guards stationed the same as when he first arrived. It was obvious now to him why they were needed. Neptune might rule the seas, but he could not control the countless creatures that swam his seas. Some would never be tamed and would always be a danger.
The crowds gathered in an open plain with floating plants at various heights anchored to the ocean floor. It reminded him of the horse race track he had once seen but this course was not so clearly defined. The plants were separate, not together, and they occupied the entire plain, with no rhyme or reason to their placement.
 
A horse track also kept the crowds away from the horses. This track looked like it would run right through them.
Horns proclaimed the arrival of the racers on the backs of the seahorses, tails sliding under a loop at the neck to hold them onto their mounts as they grasped the reins secured to the snouts. Not too different from a horse being raced. Marcos decided that it had begun here long before anyone who walked the dirt thought of it.
Another horn warned the riders to get ready and they formed a line along the ocean floor in between two low plants. Neptune did the honors himself and released them. They sped away faster than any animal could run on land.
The racers rode in a spiraling path that took them high above before descending to flow through the watchers. Many times, Marcos feared they would just ride right over him or someone else in the crowd. He needn’t have feared. Each rider steered their seahorse away at the last moment, making the race more thrilling for watchers and riders alike.
Try as he might, he could not make sense of the course. They swam every which way, seeming to hardly follow the path the plants marked. When they turned and swam right back past the section they came from just moment prior before turning in a new direction, he gave up. They must know where they needed to go, he supposed.
The race went on until one broke into the lead, passing the point where they had started far ahead of the others. She received a crown of flowers for her win.
That seemed to mark the end of the activites for now. The sea horses were taken back to their coral corral where they stayed where they’d been asked and the tethers for the plants were cut so they could go where the current might take them.
Both Marcos and Actol were worn out by the excitement. Mallie took him back to the house where she waited for him earlier and then departed with her child for her own home. Even without a bed and warm blankets to cover himself with, sleep overtook him quickly.
- - -
When it was time, Neptune and Marcos swam to the area the king had been informed the ship would be. Along the journey, Neptune said, “I never asked, lad. Do you have family?”
“Only my sister. She’s betrothed to a baker in Madrid. They’ll wed in the summer.”
“What of your mother and father?”
Marcos looked resigned. “My da’s out there, somewhere. After Riselle was born, he said didn’t love ma any more and left. She died taking my punishment when I was caught stealing to feed us.”
He swallowed a few times, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “What about you? Do you have family?”
“Aye. Mine is a large and very complicated family. We don’t see each other often enough. But I will tell you this. ‘Tis a sad thing when a brother would rather live above the waves just to avoid the throne.”
The sharks had learned Neptune was not to be trifled with. The seas remained clear as they swam where the water was only a few fathoms deep.
A group of dolphins decided to join them. Marcos couldn’t tell if they were the same ones he’d seen before. Maybe they were. If he had more time, he could have asked them. ‘Twas not to be as the hull of the ship came into sight, a dark shape against the brilliant blue above.
Marcos and his traveling companion swam alongside the boat as the dolphins sped ahead, breaching the surface over and over. Neptune rolled to his side so he could face Marcos.
“Take care of yourself, lad, and remember what I said about unlocking treasure.”
“I will, your Majesty.”
Neptune arced over on his back and sped away, much faster than Marcos could imagine. Gone in a blink of an eye, back to his impossible city and his people, impossible in their own right.
He moved closer to the surface. He hoped the boarding ladder had been left over the side. It would be difficult climbing aboard without legs, but he’d pull himself up with just his arms alone if he had to.
No legs? His hands were still webbed! He was still a merman! He couldn’t go aboard the ship.
“Neptune! Your Majesty!” Marcos yelled.
His voice faded away and his breath left him. The water became colder. He began shivering. And then he couldn’t breathe.
Panicking, he tried to get to the surface. His legs and arms flailed. Just another few seconds and he’d be there.
The taste of air and the sun shining on his face was more welcome than any riches he ever desired. Clouds of the brightest white backed the masts under full sail. They would make good time to the next port. If he could only get aboard, that is. The ladder was not there.
He readied to call out, “Man overboard!” but before he could, day turned to night and he was draped over the rail of the crow’s nest. High above, the sliver of moon faded further as the approaching dawn made itself known far ahead.
Marcos felt sick and made it to the bucket just in time. When his stomach stopped fighting, he climbed back to the railing. The first mate was still at the wheel, standing just as tall as when he took the shift.
Relieved, Marcos sank to the floor of the nest. He would not be flayed or worse. All he had to do was pretend it never happened. He could to that. It was easy to do. It couldn’t have happened.
A touch of pink painted the sky. As long as shied away from red, it would be a good day.
Marcos got back to his feet. His job was not done. Pirates knew that before a crew roused for the day was a good time for a killin’.
Still no sails in any direction, but the coast was near and so were gulls, crying and squawking as they circled. They could make port this afternoon.
Brighter and brighter, the sky told him it would be a good day. Below, sailors filed out and began their inspection of the riggings.
A booming voice caused the gulls to scatter. “Mr. Thompson! Send that layabout to my cabin!”
“Aye, Captain!” the first mate called back. He cupped his hands against his mouth. “Hop to it, Mr. Winden. He’s in a mood.”
Marcos scrambled to open the hatch and clambered down the webbing with the bucket. Tie a rope to the handle, dip it in the sea to clean it and hand it to the next lucky one to man the nest.
He knocked timidly on the door to the cabin.
“Enter!”
“Sailor Winden reporting as ordered, cap’n.”
The Captain slowly spun his chair around to face Marcos. “How was your night in the nest?”
Marcos opened is mouth and shut it again. It couldn’t have happened. “No ships all night, sir.”
“I didn’t expect there would. They’re all still running scared from the storm, as if that little breeze was anything to be afraid of.” Contempt colored his face, giving no lie to what he thought about all those other ships and their crews.
“Still, best not to be over-confident,” the Captain said. “The unexpected can still shake you, make you see things you know cannot be.”
Marcos froze his face, not daring to say anything.
His Captain remained impassive, expecting no further response. To Marcos’ surprise, he asked, “Have you given any thought to my offer?”
The plank of wood had been forgotten. He could feel it again as it pressed against his thigh. Marcos looked down at his pocket and then forward again. “I think I have, cap’n.”
“We won’t be returning to Malta until the fall, but that may be enough time for you to learn the words to win the young lass’ heart I paid a pretty coin for. Learn the letters and you can write your own words to unlock whatever you seek.”
The Captain grabbed a scrap of parchment and scribbled briefly on it, then handed it to Marcos. “Give this to the cook and learn your first new words.”
The lines on the parchment were separated in five groups with some straight and some curved. The last he recognized as the Captain’s symbol. The next looked familiar. He’d seen it on a barrel in the storeroom. If he was right, he might be able to look forward to an extra ration of rum!
By the time Marcos looked back up and said, “Thank you, Captain Sidon,” the Captain was already turning back around and answering, “Dismissed.” He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He best leave before the cap’n changed his mind.
When he heard the click of the latch, the Captain opened a drawer of the desk that lined the rear window of his cabin. He took out a picture, hand-painted since yesterday and since forever of two bare-chested men who looked close enough alike to be family, both smiling and holding tridents.
Category:ILWS-N Writing Competition