Chapter 56

  Nereida napped fitfully, Ael sitting with her, calmly stroking her short, wispy blue hair. It was still too short to properly braid, and while Nereida had kept it up under a variety of shawls pinned down on the ship, she had left her hair free when among her people. At first, it had been strange to see her with hair unbound in public, but now… Ael did not want her wife to have to hide any more. She saw, now, the burden of never being allowed to be who she was. The waves were crashing about, loudly, and then something in the waves changed. Ael looked up, seeing a small group of sirens. She watched as they formed up, a unit on par with any military group. Ael gently shook her wife awake, moving slowly to not anger them.

  “Who are you?” demanded the leader, a bulky looking man with beads in his hair made of shells.

  “I am Admiral Ael, and this is my wife, Nereida Dolphin’s Revenge,” she said firmly, watching for signs of aggression. Instead she saw confusion pass between them. She watched them shift in the sand, their bare feet moving to a more defensive position.

  “Why are you not at the Sacred Isle?”

  The air left Ael’s lungs in a rush. She was not pleased to have confirmation of her fear.

  “We aren’t sure,” Ael said. Nereida finally fully awake, had shifted to reach for the egg protectively. “We woke up here the morning after the Full Moon.”

  “It's been three days.” The hunter sounded incredulous. Nereida made a sound, disbelief matched with anger and fear. His expression softened at the sound. “We heard of you, but we are far from the isnd. The song echoed through the ocean’s waves, and word travels faster than fin or swim.”

  “How far from the isnd?” Nereida asked quietly, the pain in her voice so raw that even the hunters who did not know her could hear it. Ael watched how they shifted in response to her tone, the concern that fluttered over the faces of the younger hunters.

  “Three weeks for the strongest of us to swim. Your boat could make it in two, so long as the wind favoured her.” The lead hunter took a step forward, motioning at his squad to stand down. “You have a child? The story spoke of a child.” She nodded, fighting tears and misery.

  “Three, two siren sons, and a sylph daughter.”

  “They’d be with the ship. They’ll be safe. We will send word, and bring them here. It will take a few days to get word to them, a few more to get word back to you. But, Dolphin’s Revenge, it is the best we can do, unless you wish to swim it yourself.” She shook her head.

  “I’m not accustomed to that kind of swim. A day, three, maybe but… not without my wife.” She shifted, touching the egg, as if including it in the reasons she would not swim away.

  The hunter saw the movement, crocked his head to the side, and looked back at one of his hunters. He snapped a name, and the smallest of the group stepped forward.

  “Get the Elder,” he ordered. The smallest one nodded and fled back to the sea, before the hunter turned back to the wives that clung to each other in the sand. “If it pleases you, we will bring you some rations, some bowls to capture fresh water, and a spear for defence.”

  “That would mean a lot,” Nereida said softly, her voice trembling with unspent emotion. “Thank you.” He snapped his hand to his chest and bowed.

  “The elder will be here by sunset. I will have one of the hunter boys bring you what you need. Nothing important is on this isnd, you may hunt or build shelter as needed. I can ask a Gatherer to teach you what you may eat here, so that you need not rely on kelp and fish. Even for us that gets old.” He grinned at them, though there was sadness in his eyes.

  The hunters left, leaving the women alone on the shore. Once she was certain they were gone, Nereida began to sob into Ael’s arms.

  “We left them,” she whimpered, once the worst of the tears were spent.

  “Something happened. It must have. I… we have gone FAR, love. You could not walk it or swim it, not in one night, not in three.”

  “We flew.” Nereida’s voice was quiet but sure. “I dreamed we… I dreamed we were dragons, Ael. Massive, ship-sized dragons. Gifted their form. I thought it was just a dream. It had to have just been a dream.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Egg says otherwise,” Nereida whispered. “Tomorrow, we can look for clues of what truly happened, if you think you can find our way back to where we woke up. But I can’t go anywhere else without food, between the hike… and whatever we have been doing for three nights, I am out of reserves.” She touched Ael’s face gently. “You, in my dream, you were sleek and covered in scales that shimmered in the light. Long like a snake, with great wings. But you still had your eyes.” Tears were leaking out of her eyes again, and she did not seem to notice or care. Or perhaps she had no fight left in her. “I was long, but not as long as you, and both flew and swam, as my wings were not so powerful.”

  “But your eyes were the same,” Ael repeated, remembering a flight of fancy she had weeks ago. Had it been a warning? Was she truly one of the Moon’s Scions? No. She could not walk that road right now. Nereida needed strength, and if she was guessing who she was, if she listened to the doubts in her mind, she would not have what her wife needed. She could fall apart once they set foot back on the ship. Once she was home with her wife in her arms and the children safe and Evander’s “I told you so”. She needed the familiarity back before she could fall apart.

  The sun was becoming warmer, and Ael shed her outer jacket. It was ridiculously warm for a spring day. The buzzing of bugs was the only sound beside the crashing of the waves. Ael and Nereida sat quietly, holding each other and each trapped in their own thoughts. Nereida was no longer crying, but she stared off at the horizon with a broken expression. Ael found herself checking on the egg, weirdly worried about the creature inside. Would it be a dragon or a child? Or would it be like the Scions in the ancient history books, with dragon features on human bodies. It was rumoured to be why the demons were as ugly as they were, that they were somehow closer to their bloodline’s dragon. Or perhaps they were like the sirens, who changed because of their magic. She wished she had paid more attention in her history lessons, but the world as it had been had held no interest to her when she was young.

  An hour, perhaps more, passed as they leaned into each other. Ael felt like she may have dozed off, exhaustion finally winning out. Two sirens had arrived on the beach. One was young and small, an early adolescent. He carried supplies toward them, a friendly smile on his face. He bowed to the other siren, who looked ancient beyond measure, before bringing them a rge pack, two rge bowls, a spear and a hatchet.

  “My pa says this should do you for a week,” the boy said softly. “I’ll be back in six days with more, just in case. Do you need anything else, Dolphin’s Revenge?”

  “No,” her tone was gentle as she looked at the boy. “Thank you. See you in six days.” He grinned, relieved, and headed back to the water, stopping only to bow before the ancient siren who hobbled toward them. She was leaning on a gnarled wooden staff. Her hair was shaved short, and her head was tattooed with strange lines that were hard to discern. She had the same kind of tattoos up her arms and legs.

  Ael set her jacket on the sand, motioning for the elder to sit there. She was angry still at the sirens, but she would not be needlessly cruel to any of them. Except if she caught wind of whomever decided that they needed to be the “Blessed Ones”. That siren she would feed to a pack of wild dogs.

  “Greetings, children.” The woman’s voice trembled with age. She lowered herself onto Ael’s jacket, a slow process. Her knees were exposed in her short outfit, and they were rge and knobby. Despite her age, her legs still looked strong. Her feet were uncovered, and her toes were webbed. “I am Elder Kia.” She smiled, her wrinkles stretching. “I imagine you have questions.”

  “What did they do to us?” Ael asked, her need to understand overthrowing her caution. Beside her, Nereida heaved a sigh. Ael gnced at her wife and shrugged. What did Nereida expect?

  “Were you made the Blessed Ones?” At their nods, the old woman continued, a fond, sad expression on her face. “My husband, may he rest among the waves, and I were also made the Blessed Ones. It is a tradition; the first couple to be blessed for their upcoming marriage is married on the spot. It is considered the highest honour, to represent the Moon and the Ocean. My eldest son was conceived that night.” She seemed to be seeing something far away, the memories clearly pleasant. After a moment she looked at them. “But… I imagine things went differently for the two of you.” She looked at Ael, considering her strongly. “Are you of the Moon, child?”

  “I….” Ael flushed, unsure of how to answer.

  “We believe so,” Nereida replied, taking Ael’s hand. “Though she has not shown obvious magic.” Ael felt nauseous at her wife’s words. She pushed the feeling down. Fall apart on the ship. Survive now.

  “It is said, in the early days, that an aspect of the Ocean would possess the partner named for the Ocean, and then would leave once the Moon failed to possess the other off- Blessed One.”

  “Offering,” Nereida hissed. She tightened her grip on Ael, channeling her fury in a way that would not hurt anyone. “You were about to call us offerings.”

  “Yes my dear. Did no one tell you?” she looked surprised, then angry. “Bloody fools. You are supposed to be willing. Willing to be the Moon and the Ocean come together to heal old wounds, to help heal the Moon of her loss.”

  “They asked us if we were willing,” Ael muttered. “Just left out what we were willing to do. I thought we were getting a blessing, a congratutions, on our engagement. NOT that we were about to be part of their religious ceremony.”

  The old woman made a judgmental “tsk” sound, shaking her head.

  “I am sorry, children. That was ill done.” Ael wasn’t sure if she should be mad about being called a child repeatedly by this ancient woman. No one had called her a child in decades. The old woman reached out and patted Nereida’s leg gently. “I imagine, darling child, that you were both possessed by the spirits of the Moon and the Ocean. The Ocean may have been shattered to pieces, but she is not dead. She gives us life daily, is full of life and wonder. Perhaps after all this time she has begun to heal.” Ael and Nereida looked at each other, worry on their faces.

  “Could that have turned us into dragons?” Nereida asked softly.

  “For a time. There are ancient stories of our people being turned into the dragon of the ocean for up to a week, the Ocean-possessed one crying out for their love, the Moon.”

  The wives looked back at each other, and then, quite by accident, Ael gnced at the egg. The old woman, sharp as a tack, saw the motion.

  “May I ask what that is?” Her voice was very quiet, respectful.

  “An egg,” Nereida answered after a long moment. She picked it up, put it in her p and recovered it with the wool cloak.

  “Your egg?” Nereida looked at the blue and silver egg, stroking it like one would a cat. “Oh dear…” the old woman sounded genuinely concerned, whether for them or for her people, Ael could not say. “The time of the Great Return is upon us then. When this egg hatches, if the legends passed down by my people are true, then the Great Dragons will return from their realm and the Twin Dragons will finally end their feud.”

  “In war?” Nereida’s voice shook. “Or is there a chance for peace?”

  “There is always a chance, child. Slim though it may be.” She reached out, patting Nereida’s leg again. “You will need to keep it warm, so that it hatches. If you cannot keep it warm by a fire, holding it to your body should do it. Or warm rocks in the fire, and line the nest you keep it in with those rocks. Perhaps with the wool between, so you don’t burn the poor thing.”

  “How long?” Nereida asked softly. “How long until it hatches?”

  “That, my dear girl, I do not know.” She smiled softly, a grandmother’s gentle, accepting smile. “But it would likely grow better, stronger, if you both take turns touching it. Two mothers to nourish it.”

  “It's an egg. It has its nourishments,” Ael said ftly. But the crone ughed.

  “It is a magical being, Moon Daughter. It needs to feel your magic to grow, or it will only favour the mother who gives it the most love.” She looked pointedly at Nereida. Ael gred at the old woman, one of the fiercer gres that she usually reserved for particur moments of idiocy by a crewmate, or for someone she wanted to kill. But the old woman simply ughed. Dragons’ wilting tits she was losing her touch!

  “Dearie, you are less than half my age, did you think you could frighten me? Perhaps if you still had the dragon’s form.” She ughed again, a merry sound. “But it pleases me you tried. Now… when it hatches, it will imprint on whichever people it sees first. You must make sure it is you two. It could be a disaster if it imprints on a demon or a samander. You cannot hand the win to one side.” Nereida bristled at that, straightening her back.

  “Some fire-touched are my family,” she said.

  “That may be. But their patron is violent. He killed the Ocean Dragon, him and his brother. There may come a time when you cannot trust those that raised you. That you can only trust the Moon-Daughter.” Nereida grumbled, but pulled the egg closer.

  “I won’t give the egg to any of our people either.”

  “I would not expect a mother to give up her child,” the elder replied, raising her hands in surrender. “And,” she added viciously, “if the Council tries, they may find civil war led by the story keepers to be a most terrible thing.” She grinned, showing her sharp, pointed teeth. This woman had three rows of teeth, like a shark. Ael shivered.

  “The Speaker will relent if you speak to them first,” Ael said, though she had no idea what her words meant, or where they came from. The crone, however, looked immensely pleased.

  “She does have the gift, if weak. You are nearly forty, you should have been exposed to your patron’s touch many times.”

  “What?”

  “Children born in the ocean draw their power from the ocean. It is exceedingly rare that our children are born powerless. The Sylphs build their homes on high mountains, bring their children out to py amongst the fiercest winds. We have learned from one of our more… enthusiastic enchanters, that the children of the demons do not see the sun until they are ten, at the earliest. They live by firelight, in the shadows always.” The crone’s expression was thoughtful. “By the time you are adolescent, you should have slept beneath each cycle of the moon at least once.” Ael flinched.

  “We are taught that to sleep beneath the new moon invites madness.”

  Nereida and the crone exchanged a significant look, one of shared understanding, one that Ael desperately wished she understood.

  “Genocide.” Nereida’s voice was full of anger. “A way of keeping the peasantry from developing their powers. Make them afraid… and then… just… kill anyone who managed to show a gift.” She was shaking. “No different from drowning a child who must breathe air.” The crone looked away at that comment.

  “Perhaps I should go. It seems you two have much to discuss. If you have need of me again, tell the boy who brings you wares.” She struggled to stand, and Ael found herself on her feet, helping the elder up. The elder patted her hand with a fond little smile. “That’s a kind girl. I wish you the best.”