Sea God's Siren (The Brother's Keep) (6 page)

Chapter 13

Fotyne

Syrena heard the sound of gentle lapping followed by hollow thumps, swaying creaks, and subtle groans. She pried her eyes open only to flinch from direct sunlight.

Canvas flapped overhead. A mast, from a boat on which she reclined on the deck. Syrena was about to shift and sit up, but then she spotted the woman who neared. She pressed back downward, staring up. “You?”

“I am me, yes.” The woman wore a smile laced with amusement.

“The Bright and Morning Star.”

“Nay, but I know of whom you speak.”

Syrena did sit up then, swinging her legs around. “Have you met it?”

“
Him
, and yes, you might even say that we’re close.”

Gone was the tail she longed to fan. Syrena rubbed her dry legs instead. Her eyes roamed across the middle-sized boat. She spotted a white buoy the shape of a lightning bolt attached to a net. The event came back to her then. That was the white beam that had enveloped her in the darkened waters. She glanced up at the bright blue sky littered with perky clouds sliding by. She found safety by this woman’s mercy, but what of her lover, her husband? “Dagon?”

“He’s down below, resting.”

“What!” Syrena tore away to the ladder leading to the cabin.

The inside of the boat proved cramped and dark, and though she had years of experience traipsing in blindness, she stumbled with haste, feeling her way to him.

“Dagon! Oh, Dagon.” Syrena smothered the still figure with a fury of kisses. He lay in a tub of water barely big enough for his frame.

“Mermen heal more quickly, naturally, if in water.”

Syrena started at the sound of the older woman’s voice, taking note of the sudden sadness in it.

“Injuries from the shark attack. His tail is torn to shreds.”

Syrena glanced back at Dagon, witnessing the truth of the woman’s words. When Syrena lowered the hand that seconds ago flew to her mouth, she asked, “Who are you?”

“Some call me Fotyne.”

“Fotyne.” Syrena tested the name under her breath. “So how do you know so much about mermen? A-and,” she stuttered, “w-why is it that you’ve helped him, us?”

The older woman mindlessly folded a piece of fabric, tucking it into a shelf already stuffed with clothing, braced by cords. She flipped through a stack, stretched material out with a snap and extended it.

Syrena examined the gauzy dress before slipping it over her head. Flattening it against her stomach, she said, “Thank you.”

“Now,” Fotyne clapped. “Join me for a cup of tea on the deck”—she motioned with her head—“and I shall tell you my story.”

After planting another kiss on Dagon’s brow, Syrena turned. “I have a feeling it’s quite a story.”

“Any story involving a merman is . . .
quite
.” Fotyne winked.

Syrena followed her up the ladder back into the brilliant sun. But she didn’t mind the kind of blindness that came from the luxury of bright light. She tried to help Fotyne make tea, but the woman only shooed her away with a cheerful remark or two.

With two cups of tea, complete with sugar and cream, Syrena almost felt like she was home again. An ache rippled through her chest with the thought of her sisters, mother, and father. She missed them so much! She must have said the last part aloud, for Fotyne answered.

“I know what it’s like to miss loved ones. It’s sometimes as if they’re lost to you or you to them.”

Bowing her head, Syrena said, “Sounds like you’re acquainted with longing.”

She laughed. “Oh, indeed.” Then Fotyne grew serious. “My sons, all gone astray. I’ve sought them for ages.”

Syrena lowered her tea and blinked at the woman who appeared both beautiful and burdened all at once.

Fotyne offered a pail of water for Syrena to dampen her face and gills. When Syrena did so, she felt unusually refreshed, comforted. And as she studied that peculiar water with a question in her eyes, Fotyne flowed into her thoughts.

“It was in one of my sad state of recollections that I met the Bright and Morning Star.”

Syrena leaned in, carefully observing Fotyne’s features.

“He was sitting at the well outside my village when I went there to fetch water.”

“What did he look like?”

“At the time, an ordinary man. Since then, the brightest, most beautiful thing you’d ever experience. He knew everything about me, what I’d done, who’d I’d been with. I had a reputation, you see, for seeking love in all the wrong places.”

“I see.” Syrena was tempted to glance away from any embarrassment reflected from Fotyne’s countenance, but she didn’t witness any.

“He told me of the living water, which comforts and sustains.”

Syrena’s eyes flittered to the pail where the experienced woman pointed.

“And that it’s a part of him, sent by Him, who is the true guide of our hearts.” She gave Syrena an intent look. “He is what gives us life, love, and purpose . . . a hope for the future.”

A ray of sun slashed down on Syrena, warming her all over, until she discovered it wasn’t the sun at all, but the Bright and Morning Star. It rotated in its twinkle, covering every fiber of Syrena, inside and out. “I knew it existed! I believe in the Bright and Morning Star,” she exclaimed.

“I know you do. That’s why I’m here. He sent me, and through you I’ve finally found one, at least, who was lost to me.”

She inclined her head. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve had six sons with six different men.” Fotyne stood, leaning over the railing, and peered at the sea. “All of the relationships proved empty, disastrous, except the last . . . he was my one true love. But he was a merman. Fearing the ocean, I was unwilling to take residence with him so he came to live with me, but dwelling on land made him sad.” She rubbed the tiredness from her eyes then brought her fists down with a
thump
against the balustrade. “And he had to leave often to replenish himself in the water. His very life depended on it.” Fotyne expelled a deep breath. “According to them, a lover’s union must be completed in and out of the water. In that sense, we were never technically married. But with such a lengthy merger I underwent certain changes.” She sighed heavily, and Syrena took note of faded lines that were probably once gills, or gills underdeveloped. “Anyway, depravity and war broke out among the Lodians. He went back for a period to fight. However . . . he lost his life. And I never loved again.”

Fotyne faced Syrena, crossing her arms. “Only one survived the war and all its fallout.” Fotyne gestured with her head. “Our son.”

“Dagon,” Syrena muttered.

Fotyne nodded. “Corruption resulted in each of my failed marriages, including the perversion of each of my sons. Ach, such sorrow!” She gasped, then sniffed. “Bright and Morning Star has bid me to go and tell others about him, to aid others who need help just as I needed it. I’ve done so, even overcoming my fear of the ocean, and through past regrets I have found much happiness, matchless joy, by reaching out to others.

“And in my travels, I’ve also sought after each of my sons. Some of which I’ve gained knowledge of their evil deeds, some are still missing, unknown. I always knew Dagon would be one who was more inclined toward goodness, because he resulted from not only a great love, but a time of awakening for me, of transformation. I can’t tell you how much it means to lay my eyes on him, and to see you, his wife, shower him with such depth of affection that pours from your eyes. Most of all that you called on the Bright and Morning Star . . .
together
.”

Syrena quickly went over to hug the woman who now slouched, covering her face, sobbing into her hands. “I knew the parental story of the sea witch and her serpent was amiss. Dagon was duped as a child, but he fought for truth, for freedom.”

“Oh, let me look at you again.” Fotyne drew away just enough to admire Syrena. “I want to know how you two met, the whole story. Tell me about Dagon, my son, and all that I’ve missed.”

“Maybe he can tell you himself.” With shyness, Syrena smiled and stepped back, revealing Dagon, who stood atop the ladder rising from the ship’s belly.

“Mother?”

Chapter 14

The Act of Renouncement

Syrena thought Fotyne an enlightened woman. She could see so much of Dagon in her. In their reunion, mother and son bonded as if never separated.

“How is it that you’ve not aged more than is natural?” Syrena asked.

“Ah, because I mated with a merman! They give mortal women a certain glow, you see.” She grinned. “Just think how good I’d look if we had customarily consummated our union in the water as well.” Fotyne winked. “Oh, how I miss him so,” she said, turning with a sigh.

After a respectful pause, Syrena asked, “So what’s next?”

Dagon spoke. “I must renounce my heritage with the sea witch mother and serpent father.”

She glanced at her husband warily. “How will you do that?”

“Remove these cuffs.” Dagon referred to the gold bands around each bicep.

“What are you waiting for? Do so now!”

He shook his head. “They’re held on by their magic—”

“You mean their curse,” Syrena concluded.

“Yes. I must confront the both of them at the same time. Only then, in their presence, can I relinquish their hold on me; only then can I disown them and be free of their ways. I’ve always known this, but . . . I’ve feared. Forgive me, Syrena, it was you who kept me desiring life, a life with you. Though they keep it, I don’t trust my soul to these paternal thieves of the sea. I hid from them. I ran, so I could be with you by my own volition. I fear my actions may have made matters worse for us. Their vengeance is fierce.”

“I’ll go with you—”

“No!” He drew her into his arms, whispering against her ear, “I’ll not have it.”

Syrena weaved her fingers through Dagon’s lustrous hair with a heavy sigh. “Why must it be this way?” Then she shifted toward Fotyne. “Can’t the Star break this bondage?”

Fotyne wordlessly stepped down the ladder to below.

“She must face them, too,” Dagon said. “They have been both of our strongholds.”

“So you flirt with ending your lives?”

“The Star will guide us, be our strength. But I need released. So does Mother Fotyne. She wears a similar kind of band, did you see?”

“No. But I thought the Bright and Morning Star set her free.”

Fotyne came back up on deck. “If it’s me you’re referring to, he did, my daughter. But this is an imperfect world and I am an imperfect person. I have my weaknesses. And they need renounced, as Dagon has noted.”

Syrena exhaled. “This is all so confusing.” She rubbed her temples. “So you must conjure their presence in order to sanction this act of renouncement?”

Fotyne faced her. “No, dear one, it’s more like recognizing the oppression, facing it for what it is, and rebuking the bondage by the grace of the Bright and Morning Star, the guiding light, who enables us to see our way clearly . . . gives us the courage we need to face our fears.”

Syrena stood and paced some. “And where must I go while a blessed mother and her enchanted son seek to break free from evil?”

Dagon went to her. “Syrena,” he whispered, cupping her chin. “I never thought I’d part from you ever again. I realize now that this is necessary in order for us to thrive together. Otherwise, our world as one will always be dominated by the sea witch, the serpent always at our heels.”

She bowed her head. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Dagon pressed his face against hers, so that their tears intermingled. A crack of thunder sounded in the distance, causing them to look up with a start. Booming rolls neared them as the skies began darkening all around them.

“I was going to sail her home to safety so she could stay with her family for a spell, but now this. . . .” Fotyne shook her head, shoulders, all the way down to her arms, legs, and feet. “Ah, well. We must thrive in our circumstances, and keep believing, keep hoping, rather than wallow in self-pity.” Then, after glancing over the bow, she cast a new, beamed expression toward Syrena. “Well, now, here’s another idea.”

Dagon jogged to the source of Fotyne’s inspiration and stared overboard. “Chariot!” He grinned. “Can you manage, before the sea witch finds out?” He spun to Syrena, taking her by the hand. “My precious wife, go now! Chariot will take you home.”

“I’m home when I’m with you,” she pleaded.

“We have that to look forward to if all should go well.” He began assisting her down.

Syrena flailed in a panic. “Wait! Dagon, please wait.” She gained his focus. “I-I love you.” Her face crumpled in weepy distress.

“Ah, Syrena.” He held her close. “Syrena, you are my paradise.” He sought her mouth and kissed her with all the depth and passion he felt for her.

Once reclined on Chariot’s soft pink tongue that felt like a bed, Syrena returned a wave to Fontyne, and then relished the last glimpse of her lover, Dagon, before the giant clamshell closed, sealing her inside.

The darkness inside the shell didn’t frighten Syrena. She had known blindness before. It was how her sea craft bobbed up and down and at times sideways in speeding rounds, as if suctioned by the ocean’s surge.

Sometimes spinning and whirling, as if sliding on ice, the shell seemed to dance across water after a spell. A memory came of how her sisters once told her about skipping pebbles across a wide creek near their home. Syrena had warmed between her palms the flattened rocks Gwyn and Steffi gave her before she chucked them. She determined by her sisters’ silence that those stones did not make the several light jumps, a series of skips toward land on the other side of the rivulet. Too often, the
ker-plunk!
that followed a toss gave the truth away. In spite of the uncertain future, Syrena smiled at the thought of seeing her family again.

The clam’s squashy tongue proved supple underneath her. The spongy substance flexed beneath her weight and rolled to cushion her swaying this way and that. Alive in its own right, it protected Syrena from the hardness of the craft, though the shell had a silken lining, too.

A short while later, Chariot opened its seal. Syrena shielded her eyes from the bright sun. On knees, hands holding the rim of the silver sailing disc, she stared forward at the calming ocean with the storm behind them and the beam of one star’s light before them. She had the sensation that the Bright and Morning Star would always know her precise whereabouts and that he abided with her no matter where she journeyed. Syrena took comfort to know that this same star covered Dagon and Fotyne, as well.

Mammoth oceanic mammals spouted and swam along for a spell. Though they appeared to lumber, they kept pace with her speeding shell by the mere size of them. One rolled, and a spherical eye that seemed to hold the world’s secrets examined her. The creature looked like it smiled as it slapped its tail against the surface. Syrena, in her silver sailing disk named Chariot, rode the waves making leaps through the spray. She giggled and the mammals responded in eerie tune before they disappeared into the deep.

Once the playful waves quieted, so did the wind. Something nudged the shell from the underside. Again, it bumped forward. And again until a steady, perpetual drive developed and forced the clamshell to continue. Syrena leaned over the backside and saw Shimmery Blue’s beak-like snout against the craft just under the surface. His aquatic tail flapped wildly, propelling, pushing the vessel onward. She beamed and clapped, elated to see her familiar friend again, thankful for assistance. She felt certain Dagon had sent him.

Shimmery Blue glanced with teasing, happy eyes.

Syrena knew they neared the Shallow Sea by the odor that filled the air. However, passing it, they proceeded around a peninsula to an area that preceded a jutting mass of rockery. Her village sat in its protective hedge. Fishing boats of various sizes were both coming in and going out as she sat idle and watched.

“Shimmery Blue, what are we to do? My people can’t very well see me sailing in on a clamshell.” Mortification heated her cheeks. “No offense, Chariot, you are quite lovely.” The clamshell bobbled in gentle response. “But the villagers won’t understand, won’t believe their eyes.”

Her aquatic friend did not provide answer, only replied, “Shimmery-shim-shimmery,” as if unsure itself.

Just then, a single wave lifted them in one lofty swirl. Lingering, teetering on the churning cap, Shimmery Blue shoved the vessel, sending it airborne while the wave folded and crashed underneath. Plummeting downward, the clamshell snapped shut, submerging. They looped, righted, and zipped. A moment later, Chariot popped from the surface with Blue at its side and opened. Syrena caught her breath while searching the surroundings.

Without a moment’s rest, Shimmery Blue scooted the clamshell along until the sea grew shallow and the capsule skid bottom, lodged. They were at the far side of the rockslide near the pool at the bottom of the quarry, thankfully on the other side of its western wall where kids didn’t care to venture. Syrena stepped out but fell with a splash as her legs metamorphosed into a fishtail.

“I have to be careful about this around my family. They’d have a difficult time with it, I think,” she muttered, as she scrutinized her body. She certainly was grateful for the dress Fotyne gave her on the boat. Now she didn’t have to worry about
borrowing
someone’s clothes before she entered the town. “I’ll get up onto those rocks right over there and wait until the sun dries me. Then I’ll hike over the rock wall.”

Syrena pushed Chariot from the sandy hold.

“Thank you my sailing clamshell. You provided a safe and lovely ride.”

Its tongue wriggled and its pink heightened. It skidded away, slipping under the breach, back to the realm of Dagon’s uncertain fate. Syrena stared, long after Chariot disappeared.

She turned. “And thank you, too.”

Shimmery Blue danced on its tail, smiling. “Shimmery-shim-shimmery blue.” The mammal fell sideways, playfully, with a splash and trailed after the silvery clam.

At last, after she dried, Syrena climbed over the western wall, heading into the village. But with every step away from the lap of saltwater, her heart broke, lamenting over the sorrow of the sea.

Nearby, ocean waves crashed against the shore in a sort of eerie elegy, “
Dagon. Da-Da-Dagon.”