Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
We’re standing on a path of golden sand that stretches far into the distance. To my right is a deep dip—almost like a valley on land, although the green down here is seaweed floating lazily in the current. Fish swim by, their colours neon bright.
When I look up, all I can see is water and a faint light. Water surrounds me—I can feel it on my hands and face, and my hair lifts in the current. It’s cool but not cold. I raise my hand and watch as it trails through the water silkily, and all the while I breathe without any trouble.
Sigurd watches me, water tugging at his long red-blond hair, his eyes a deep gold in the murky sea light.
“How is this possible that I’m breathing?” I ask. I swallow and take another breath. “How can I even be talking underwater? Why haven’t I drowned?”
“Because you are on the path.”
I look down at the sandy path again and realise that it’s lined by shells that gleam with a faint phosphorescence.
“It is magic,” he continues. “If you were to stray from the path, you would drown. The Mer enchanted the path so humans could visit. In the old days, humans and the Mer shared many ideas during the peaceful times.”
“Not anymore?”
“You are the first human to be here in many years. Maybe a century.” He must see worry in my eyes, because he cups my face in his big hand. “I promised you safe passage.”
“I know.” I gaze up at him and then notice a red mark on his forehead. “Oh, you’ve cut your head. Are you okay?”
I reach up, smoothing my fingers gently over the scrape. He leans into my touch like a big dog, and I stroke carefully, momentarily forgetting the strangeness of the situation as I appreciate his unique charm.
“Bumped your head again, dragon?” comes a lazy, accented voice from behind me.
I spin around and gasp when I see a merman floating in the water just beyond the path.
Sigurd displays no such astonishment. “That door needs to be raised,” he grumbles.
“Why? No Cornish giants visit here. Only puny six-foot-five dragons.”
Sigurd laughs and steps forward to embrace the merman in a hug.
I realise this must be the friend he mentioned would accompany us.
I look at him curiously. He’s beautiful in an otherworldly sort of way.
His hair is long and black, and his eyes are a deep midnight blue.
His lean body is tightly muscled, and his tail is covered in blue, silver, and white scales, sparkling as he moves.
“Thank you for meeting us,” Sigurd says.
“But of course,” he says lightly. “You know curiosity is my besetting sin.”
Sigurd rolls his eyes. “No, that is lust. Nosiness is far beneath that.”
He laughs. “You are right as usual. There are just so many women and men in this world, and since I have the time to indulge myself, why restrict myself to one?” He shoots Sigurd a sly look. “Unlike you, I hear.”
Sigurd makes a sudden gesture, and the man’s eyes sparkle with amusement. Sigurd turns to me. “Cary, come and meet Marin.” He says it as sedately as if we’re at a garden party and not underwater and talking to a half-naked man with a tail.
I gape at them, and Marin laughs. It’s a merry, mischievous sound, and I already like him. I bet he’s a rascal and a charmer in equal measures. “I believe he is struck dumb.”
“Not for long,” Sigurd says slyly. “He talks more than the piskies.”
Marin looks at him sideways, and his mouth twitches as if at a private joke. Then he turns back to me. “’Tis an honour to meet you, Cary.”
“Really?”
My astonishment seems to amuse him. “Aye. It is rare nowadays to meet a dragon’s—”
“Friend," Sigurd interrupts. “I have few friends.”
“That’s an outrageous lie, isn’t it? I bet you have loads of friends.” I step forward, careful to remain on the path. I reach out my hand, and Marin moves forward and shakes it. His skin is cool to the touch.
“I believe you know my sister?” he asks.
I look at those blue eyes, and recognition dawns. “Morveren?”
He gives me a crooked smile, and when I see a glint of silver, I realise he has a lip ring. “She is the older and tells me often that she is also the wiser.”
“To be fair, she hasn’t got much competition with you,” Sigurd observes, and the two men laugh.
I idly reach over the edge of the path and gasp when I feel a powerful tug on my hand.
Sigurd watches me with a serious look in his pretty eyes. “Without the path, you would rise too quickly to the surface, and the pressure would cause your lungs to tear.”
“Are we that far beneath? We weren’t walking for long.”
“Two thousand fathoms, and we have farther downhill to go.”
I blink. “Bloody hell.”
Marin laughs. “It is not a long distance for the Mer.” He gestures to the path. “Come, we must hurry. Impatience is growing in the palace over Melusine.”
We hasten down the sand road, shells crunching beneath my feet.
The two men talk as Sigurd strides along and Marin swims beside him.
His tail moves lazily, propelling him along, and occasionally a stray ray of light makes the scales on it glitter fiercely.
I keep pace, but my eyes are everywhere.
Rocks line the seabed, and seaweed drifts lazily like tree limbs in the current.
Fish swim by, their bright-coloured bodies vivid in the light.
Movement draws my attention, and I watch an octopus emerge from under a rock, its orange body rippling.
It sees us and scuttles back to safety. Dark shadows move overhead, but we’re largely alone with no sign of any other human guests or Mer folk.
A shoal of clown fish swims by, but one enterprising member breaks free and swims next to me. It darts around my face, and I put out my hand, laughing. It hovers close, and I look at Marin. “Can I pet it? Will it allow me?”
“Why do you ask?” he says, his eyes curious. “Why not just do it?”
“That is the way Marin approaches humans,” Sigurd says slyly.
The merman laughs.
“I’ve read about humans hurting wildlife because of the germs we carry,” I say.
His eyes soften. “That is indeed thoughtful. Yes, you may touch if she will allow it. She is a naughty one. Never where she should be.” The fish looks at him with what I can only describe as a “what the hell” expression, and I smother a laugh as he rattles off some words in a strange language.
The fish darts at him, butting his face before swimming back to me.
It hovers nearby invitingly, and I put out my fingers.
She slides against my hand, her little body cold and slippery.
She darts up and noses my face as if kissing me and then turns as the shoal of fish comes back.
One bigger fish swims out, and the little one speeds up to join them.
She offers me a look back, and then the shoal turns as one and vanishes.
I can’t help my smile as I watch them go. I turn to find the two men waiting. “I’m so sorry,” I say immediately. “I know we’re on an urgent mission, but this is so incredibly wonderful. You don’t understand.”
“I do,” Marin says solemnly. “I had the same reaction when I saw a microwave in the human world.” He tuts thoughtfully. “What geniuses walk amongst you?”
Sigurd’s eyes twinkle. He holds out his hand, and I stride to meet him, moving as smoothly through the water as I would on earth. “There is more to see,” he says, and I fall into step with him as we walk down the sandy slope. “Be careful,” he warns. “We are near the edge here.”
“The edge of what?”
He points ahead, and I gasp. We’re standing on a cliff-like rise above a huge castle made of white stone that gleams in the sea light. Flags bearing an octopus emblem fly on the turrets and battlements.
“It’s like a medieval castle,” I say.
Sigurd nods. “I thought that the first time I visited here. It reminded me of castles I saw built in Bavaria.”
I visit medieval buildings and marvel at how well-preserved they are, and a man who appears to be in his late twenties actually saw them being built. It’s mind-boggling.
“It is home,” Marin says, with an odd tone in his voice.
We head down a steep sandy path towards a pair of closed gates. They’re so tall I can’t see the top of them.
They swing slowly open, and two Mer guards emerge. Their tails are covered in dull green scales that aren’t as pretty as Marin’s, and their expressions are stern. “State your business,” they snap.
Marin moves into vision, and their attitude immediately changes. They straighten, coming to attention and snapping off salutes.
“Be at peace,” Marin says, smiling. “These are my guests. Please send word that they are to be treated with the utmost respect.”
They nod and swim back, allowing us to enter the castle grounds.
We find ourselves in a courtyard filled with strange flowers, black and green, their leaves moving in the current.
I look back in time to see the gates close with a bang.
The sound is ominous, making me shiver. I edge closer to Sigurd, who puts his arm around me.
Even here under the sea, he’s warm, and I nestle closer.
“All will be well, Cary,” he whispers. “I shall keep you safe.”
“I know. It’s just that we’re shut in now.”
He nods solemnly. “Have courage, little one.”
“Little?” I say indignantly, and his mouth twitches.
“All humans seem little to me. It is no reflection on your character or courage, which are giant in stature. More your life span.”
“Pretty words.”
He laughs and then sobers as Marin and the guards turn to us.
“The king is in his chambers,” Marin says. “He will see you.”
Sigurd bows. “He does us great honour.”
Marin waves away the guards and moves close. “I would not be too happy, my friend. He is not in the best of moods lately.”
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself. I know Sigurd said not to talk, but this is his friend, and he’s spoken freely in front of him.