“You will save me, Khefa,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine. “You and your light will hold the corruption at bay. Long enough—”
“Long enough?” I gasped. “Long enough for what?”
“Long enough for an end to let flower a new beginning,” he said. “When I pass, you will become Kumzala—the garden by which a new world will be born. A mote that will turn to fire and bring about rebirth.”
MELIE
By Justina Ireland
I clambered over the rocks, nearly slicing my hand open on a jagged edge as I steadied myself. From far off, the jetty had seemed like the perfect place to find my quarry, but now that I was on the rocks I began to worry that maybe I should’ve picked another spot. There was no way I’d be able to get out any farther into the water, at least not this way.
Well, not without swimming.
Klydonia was a prosperous place of fertile farmland, rugged mountains, and a seaport that had allowed us to trade with most of our neighbors. But it was also a land brimming with beasts of all sorts and sizes. It was the kind of place where jumping into a dark current was a terrible idea. There were half a dozen sea creatures that would drown a human just for fun, and I wasn’t the best swimmer even without a selkie dragging me toward the bottom of the sea.
I started to head back to the beach to find another spot when I saw them pulling themselves up onto the rocks: mermaids. Gloriously fat, their rainbow hair knotted with bits of seashells as well as coral and kelp. Their skin was a blue-gray, and only their brightly colored tails stood out against the rocks.
For months I had been running errands for the High Sorcerer in hopes that he would see fit to take me as an apprentice. He had sent me on task after task, all with the promise of sharing his great wisdom. Anyone in Klydonia could learn magic, but it was incredibly dangerous to be self-taught. One never knew when a spell might backfire and turn an aspiring sorcerer into a lump of clay or a toad. So a teacher was a must.
And since the only teacher strong enough to help me learn the advanced spells that would let me help my village thrive was the High Sorcerer, I had to get to those mermaids. Otherwise, it was back to the stacks of the library, reading spells I was too inexperienced to try.
I redoubled my efforts, finding a couple of handholds, finally hopping across a particularly dangerous gap from one rock to the next. The water swirled with dangerous currents, and one false step would definitely mean my end.
But, mermaids! It would be worth it. Maybe.
“Halloo!” I called, once I was within shouting distance of the mermaids, giving them a jaunty wave. A few mermaids screamed and quickly dove back under the safety of the water, but those who had pulled themselves farther up the rocks stayed where they were, their bodies taut with aggression.
“Don’t run, it isn’t even armed,” one said, the statement directed at me as much as the other mermaids. It? Ouch.
“Leave us be, landling! We’ll never tell you the location of our castle or give you any jewels,” called a mermaid with turquoise hair.
“Don’t think we haven’t seen your ships, docked out in the deep, waiting for an opportunity to strike,” said another, her expression hard.
“And if you try to come any closer we’ll pull you off the rocks and into the cold, dark water,” said yet another, leaning back on her rock.
I didn’t think that one was lying, so I looked around at my rock and carefully found a seat. The mermaids were near enough that I could talk to them without too much effort, and I had no intention of letting them make good on their threat to drown me.
“I’m not here for your jewels or to conquer your kingdom! I’m an apprentice to the High Sorcerer, and I’ve come to ask for a vial full of your tears. It’s for a very important spell,” I said, grinning with newfound confidence. I had no doubt they would help me. After all, if I were a mermaid I would’ve helped them. Helping was just a natural instinct. Right?
A few of the mermaids poked their heads up out of the water. “Mermaids don’t cry,” said one.
“What kind of spell?” another called.
“I believe it’s to heal the sybaritic fever,” I said. This was a lie. I didn’t actually know what the tears were for. The sorcerer never told his lowest-level apprentices what they were fetching ingredients for, and even my translation of the old books was suspect, as the High Sorcerer constantly reminded me. Not that he deigned to talk to me. When he did speak in my general direction it was usually to call me the wrong name and then tell me my readings were incorrect. But never to offer the right translation.
“Also, why would we help you?” asked the turquoise-haired mermaid, interrupting my small pity party. I was beginning to think of her as the leader. “We hate the sorcerer. He sends his apprentices to hunt us for our scales.”
“And they stare at us in a gross way,” another mermaid said.
I made a face. “That was probably Ernst. He’s icky. Look, I don’t like the sorcerer very much, either, but he’s kind of my boss, and if I want to be a great sorcerer then I have to do what he says.”
“If you’re an apprentice, where are your robes?” called another mermaid, one with lavender hair, who had pulled herself a little bit out of the water.
My face burned, and not from the afternoon sun. “Um, they didn’t have the robes in my size.” I couldn’t help but remember the sorcerer’s cool gaze as he’d told me, “You are too large for robes, so your regular clothes will have to do.”
“I’m too fat,” I said, the admission feeling like something shameful even though I wasn’t sure why.
At this the mermaids cried out in dismay. “Too fat?”
“But you look positively malnourished!”
“She’d never survive in the water with so little blubber.”
“Ugh, humans are the worst.”
“I like her skin, though. It’s so brown!”
“So,” I said, seeing an opportunity in their outrage. “It would be a huge boon if you could give me some tears.”
A few of the mermaids murmured agreement, but the turquoise-haired mermaid was unmoved. “We aren’t going to give you them for nothing. It’s very hard to cry. So what can you give us in return?”
I grinned, and leaned forward as much as I could while sitting very uncomfortably on a very jagged rock. “How about a story?”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
By the time I got to the end of “The Dragon and the Moon Maiden,” the mermaids were sobbing piteously. One of the younger ones swam over to claim a vial I held out, and another besides. When the mermaids returned the vials, their tears sparkled in the fading sun, strange and unusual. A deep sense of relief and satisfaction sank into my aching bones.