The Mermaids Madness

Lannadae is with them, the risk is too great.”
    Lirea was no longer listening to her fellow undine. Another whisper floated on the wind. This new voice was seductive. Familiar. Lirea began to tremble. “Where are we?”
    “North of the humans’ island kingdom,” said Nilliar.
    The clouds blocked the stars from view, but there were other ways of navigating. Lirea dove, seeking out the deeper currents to confirm her fears.
    A shark taunted her in the distance. You can’t stop us.
    She swam back to the surface. “I know where they’re going.”
    Lannadae has slipped through your grasp again, and she’ll never let you be queen, called another shark. She’s going to kill you.
    “Where?” asked Nilliar.
    “We have to stop them. The sharks don’t matter. We can’t let them reach—”
    “Lirea, no.” The other undine drew back, leaving Nilliar alone to face Lirea. “Please, my queen. Your people need you.”
    Lirea would have been within her rights to kill Nilliar for such defiance. If Lirea so wished, she could drive a spear through Nilliar’s heart for such insolence, and Nilliar knew it. “Lannadae is taking them to Morveren.”
    Nilliar sank lower. “I’ve hunted sharks before, my queen. If you order us to attack, we will obey, and we will die. You will die, and Lannadae will have won.”
    Kill you dead! the sharks taunted. Dead as a really dead thing!
    Nobody had ever claimed sharks were creative. But their voices were little more than whispers next to the rage of her knife. You let her escape before because you were too slow and weak. Lannadae is there! She’ll free Morveren!
    “Nilliar—” Lirea watched the ship go. She bowed her head. Nilliar was right. “Send a singer to find Captain Varisto. Order him to destroy the human ship.”
    The knife screamed its fury, filling her eyes with tears of pain.
    “Where will we find him?” Nilliar asked.
    “Swim north.” Lirea lay back, listening to the wind. “Swim until the sea turns red. He will be there.”
    To Nilliar’s credit, she asked no further questions. She knew the place Lirea described, as did the rest of the undine. Nilliar gestured, and one of the warriors stripped off his harness and weapons. He dove beneath the surface, seeking the deeper currents that would speed his journey.
    “By the time he reaches Varisto’s ship, it might be too late to intercept the humans,” Nilliar said.
    The sharks cried out again, adding their voices to that of Nilliar and the knife. Dead!
    “Oh, shut up.”
    Only Nilliar and the sharks obeyed.

    Despite Talia’s fears, the day passed without incident. She hadn’t decided which was more likely, the undine attacking the Phillipa or one of the crew taking out his fears on Lannadae. But either the undine weren’t worried about a single small vessel, or else Danielle’s sharks had done their jobs. One of the younger crewmen, barely more than a boy, had been charged with dumping the occasional handful of offal into the water. At those times, Talia could see the dark forms of the sharks as they came to the surface to feed.
    As for the crew, whatever their feelings toward Lannadae, not one of them disobeyed their captain. Talia saw one or two men stop to stare at the mermaid, only to be dragged away by his fellows, usually with harsh words of warning.
    Most of the crew wore lifelines against the storm, long ropes that secured them to the ship. Talia had reluctantly allowed Captain Hephyra to loop one of the lines around her waist. The sheets were furled, all save the foresail and main topsail. Any more sail in such weather would risk cracking the mast. Hephyra herself took the helm, holding the wheel steady against the wind.
    She showed no sign of strain, but when she had stepped away earlier in the day, it had taken two men to keep the wheel under control.
    Talia increased her scrutiny once night fell, pacing the edge of the ship and searching the water for any trace of motion. As she passed the boats, Lannadae peeked out and beckoned with one hand. The dinghy was nested within the larger cutter, both boats resting on chocks and secured with double-lines.
    “What’s wrong?” A canvas tarp covered the back of the boats, though the bottom of the dinghy was ankle-deep with water from the rain.
    “I can’t sleep,” said Lannadae.
    Talia allowed herself a slight smile. “Neither can I.”
    “It’s too dry, and sound travels so strangely above water. So many voices. And no way to seek deeper