Young Writers Society

Part ii of my retelling, though if you haven't read the first, but you know the story, you could probably make a lot of sense of it. I'll adore anyone who reads and crits

Deepest's Tale part ii

It turned out that the storm hit three days later.

It’s not so much of a hobby as a duty for my sisters and I to save dying sailors.

The water was swirling dark and angry above us. Azure came and knocked on all our chamber doors.

“Come on! Light! Emerald! Deepest!” she was calling.

I swam out. This was something I still did with my sisters because to tell the truth it was an impulse, a strong one that was hard to avoid.

We swam out. Violet gave me a quick smile. “Glad you could come Deepest.”

I shoved my clam shell comb into my hair, if I rescued someone I would need to be able to speak with them.

Azure threw an extra shawl at me. I scowled. Azure felt that we needn’t be too “show off-y” as she called it, and that though in the citadel merpeople were used to seeing each other with nothing on at all or one shawl, the people on shore were not. As princesses we always had to wear at least one shawl, blouse or jacket. They were gauzy, made of fine silk, and pearl lined. Azure always made us put extra layers on in a storm like this.

“Where is it?” I asked Turquoise, catching up with her.

“Right above us apparently.” she answered.

So we swam straight up. Easier said than done. Just as people float to the surface, we, well we don’t exactly sink, but we’re repelled from the surface, if that makes sense.

And even harder in a storm. Whichever deity was angry, they were really showing it. Currents battered us from all sides. I wasn’t sure how Azure knew where we were going, there was no light up above to see by.

But then I saw it, the wrecked wooden hull of a ship, with jars of spices sinking down. We let them go. There would be time for salvaging later, and there were greater treasures.

Let me just tell you now: our idea of treasure is something you may find laughable. Rope. It’s wonderful. Thread is alright, but it’s in short supply and there aren’t enough fibres of the sort to make rope. It’s lovely. The sort you get on masts and in ships, or anything. For her birthday two months ago, Violet received, from Frieda and her husband Hans, a lovely bleached white tiara made of shells woven into the cords. She wears It on special occasions. I suppose Frieda’s good for something.

So we swim to the broken hull. Just below the water line is the ship’s name. I can’t read land-writing, but Azure can, just about.

“T-the S-wan” she said, and her face paled. “That’s what Frieda said Erik’s ship was called. Find the prince!” she called.

Oh typical Azure. None of us have ever met Prince Erik now have we? She just assumes. The sea’s going to be in a right state when Daddy dies, she won’t have a clue will she?

Still, we searched anyway. Any life is worth saving after all.

“Split,” Violet called. “Emerald, Jade, round to the left, and up, be careful of the waves. Sapphire, Turquoise, round the right. Night, Light, straight down, anywhere near where we are now. Azure, Deepest and I will go up to see if anyone’s trapped inside.”

“No,” I said quickly, not wishing to be stuck with my two eldest sisters. “Why don’t you two search the way the strongest current’s going, there’s bound to be more people there than inside the ship.”

“I don’t want you getting stuck,” said Violet, with actual concern.

“Don’t worry, I won’t, go on.”

She knew I was right. She looked at Azure who nodded. They both swam down diagonally, where the current would drag any unconscious bodies if they did not rise above the surface.

I swam through the wrecked hull of the ship. There were all sorts of objects rolling around, barrels, jars, weapons. Broken timbers lay everywhere, the masts had collapsed.

I made my way through looking, searching, for anything living. I couldn’t notice anything. I picked through the debris.

Then above the thunder I heard a groan from the deck above. Through a hole in the wood, I went to investigate.

That was the first time I saw him. He was trapped with the mast over the top of him, groaning with the effort of trying to push it away. I gasped and moved back down, realising that whoever he was, he was conscious. I also knew that above deck I would be of no use, unable to move enough in the air to help him. But he would never move it by himself. I realised that the only way I could free him was to wait until the ship began to go under, then pull him out from underneath in the water.

I didn’t have long to wait. The whole structure creaked and tipped slowly forwards. I flicked my tail up to avoid a huge wooden barrel which rolled rapidly along the lower deck and out of the hole, sinking towards the citadel. I grabbed onto the post beside me with both hands. The force began to tip me too, until my tail was level with my head, and I suddenly realised I was vertical, parallel with the ship‘s deck. Then everything around me, in a whooshing movement, was pulled downwards. Seizing my chance, I pushed myself through the hole.

The whole upper deck was submerged. I swam above the man and grabbed him from under the arms, dragging him up with all my might. I freed him but he was still heavy. I pushed him up above my head, knowing he needed air, willing him to reach the surface before I did.

His head just broke above the waves and I let out a sigh of relief, but I was still worried about the waves breaking around us. He was unconscious now, I could see that. I knew I would have to get him to shore.

Luckily, the citadel isn’t too far from the shore, we can usually swim there in around fifteen minutes. The problem is, when you’re carrying an unconscious man you’re at a bit of a disadvantage.

But I had to try. “The current’s with us.” I said to make myself feel better.

If you’re expecting me to dive back under the water and power-swim him to safety, you can forget it right now. Rescuing sailors isn’t elegant, nor does it give you a good image. You have to keep their head above water, which means bobbing along, half in, half out of the ocean. And remember what I said about being lured back down by the sea? Factor that in. Plus, I’m carrying this guy who must be at least my weight and another half of me. I just felt lucky this time that he was lithe, not broad.

Anyway, I bobbed along, ducking and kicking through the waves. It was dark, I stubbed my tail several times. I knew I must look a sight. And he wasn’t an a particularly flattering pose either. I wasn’t big enough to hold him in my arms in front of me, so I held him the same way you see nurses in the city carrying children, up against me as if I was embracing him. His head drooped over my shoulder. At least it meant I could judge if he could breathe or not that way.

Finally, as the storm began to break, I could see the sand. I dumped him on it and shook my arms out. “You know, if you’re ever going to need to be rescued again, lose some weight,” I said crossly.

I looked around. No one else was on this shore. I guessed if my sisters had found anyone, they would have gone to the cove where they meet Frieda rather than the main beach here.

“Well, I think it’s time you woke up mister,” I said, and slapped him across the face.

Just then the first sunrays hit the beach and I could see him properly.

He was… handsome. Very handsome. He had black hair, but a brown black rather than a blue black, different from deep sea dwellers. His skin was dark. I knew that tanned skin was a sign of poverty on the land, so I thought this couldn’t be the prince. Then again, the prince was a sailor, he couldn’t really keep his skin pale, could he? There was a spattering of blood on his white shirt, I lifted it, thanking the powers that the wound had managed to heal itself. Instead I stroked his face, hardened and yet softened by his time at sea, a square jaw and eyes hidden behind smooth lids under a straight brow.

Just then he frowned, as if in a dream. I did what my nurse used to do and began to sing softly, then louder. I sang my favourite song, the one of the two lovers who died together. When the merman was carried off in a storm and thrown against the rocks, the mermaid could no longer bear to live, seeing his body broken as it was. Instead she took a stone and carved out the two shattered pieces of her own heart, dying with her mouth against his, their blood mixing in the water. They say the two pieces still lie buried beneath the seabed.

As I finished on a long, low, resonate note, his eyes began to twitch. I felt an urge to linger and see what colour they were, but I was afraid he would catch me like the horror stories tell you, men that keep mermaids in cages and pools.

So I backed of, and had just enough time to see him open eyes of the brightest blue, eyes that pierced my own heart with a single, unseeing glance, eyes that put me under his snare, before I slithered into the breaking tide and ducked below the water.

I meant what I said when I promised myself my sisters would not see me after the storm.

And now I knew what I had to do.

Please crit and earn my eternal gratitude