Dreaded Creatures Glide

Author's Notes: Once again, thank you for all of the lovely comments and reviews. If you would like to get a direct response from me, your best bet is to head over to my lj: http://lambentfiction.livejournal.com I would love to reply to all of your comments, but don't want to clutter the story here. This chapter is a bit short, but the next one will be very plotty.

This chapter was edited at the end. I began the new chapter and realized that Terry needed a bit of POV time, because otherwise the next chapter started out very awkwardly. I'm sorry to mess around with you guys like this!

The sea has never been friendly to man. At most it has been the accomplice of human restlessness. -- Joseph Conrad

Prince Charles IV, heir to the throne of Tierney, kicked a pebble along the pure white marble, enjoying the sound as it skittered across the stones and then plopped into the water. It was the only sound around, with the exception of a few buzzing dragonflies and the noise of Ginger grazing. There were no twittering servants or irritating councilors or general fawning idiots. He was alone. Finally.

Uncle Horace had told his father not to put any guards around the merman’s pool, and at the time Charles had thought the idea laughable. Guards were there to *guard* -- what use were they if they could not be used just because the task was dangerous? But now, as he stood in the sunlight, enjoying a bit of time for himself, he thought it was a perfect idea. It was peaceful here, as long as he stayed away from the merman’s pool, and there was no one to bother him or tell him what to do. Better yet, now that he had lost his escort, no one would think to look for him here for some time. It had been months since Uncle Horace had given him the thing, after all, and he had yet to come look at it for himself.

Charles had been there when the merman had been brought in, of course. He remembered when the canvas had been thrown off of the cage, revealing the magnificent blue hair of the creature. Charles had been surprised despite himself. He had seen all manner of strange creatures in his life – his childhood pet had been an elephant – but the merman still came as a shock. It had seemed more human than any animal he had ever seen, except for that blue hair.

And then the merman had leapt out of the cage entirely, revealing for certain that it was anything but human. Charles remembered the way its scales had sparkled as it had flown through the air. It had been so much bigger than Charles had anticipated, so much faster and stronger, able to launch itself out of the cage seemingly without effort. Charles had thanked his uncle and had decided not to come back.

Now that he was here, however, Charles was determined to stay. He’d chosen the merman’s pool because he knew it would be abandoned at this time of day. But now he wanted to prove to himself – had to prove to himself – that the merman would not hurt him. He was the crown prince. If such a low beast as an elephant could recognize his lordship, then surely a merman could.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Charles said to the pool, knowing that the merman was lurking in it somewhere. He made himself start to approach the edge, just to demonstrate that it was true.

And then the little pebble he had kicked into the pool bounced back up.

Charles stared. The merman was there, right *there*, beyond the overhanging rocks. He couldn’t see the creature. He couldn’t even hear him. There were none of the unholy cries that he’d heard about in tales as a boy, or even a splash of water. Just that pebble.

It was too late to turn back now. A prince must have some dignity, after all. And there was something about the merman, a sense of lurking challenge, that made Charles walk closer, even as he wished for a sword or a guard. He felt as though he were being pulled, as though the merman could be a siren even without song. He reached one of the flat rocks that hung over the deep end of the pool and looked tremulously over the edge.

It stared up at him with eyes only barely above the water. Its strange blue braids fanned out about it, floating in the water in horrible tendrils. It was so frighteningly still, like a ghost or a creature from dreams. His heart thumping in his chest, Charles held his head as high as he could while still looking down at the merman and told himself that the heat in his veins was anger and not fear. “I am Prince Charles IV, son of King Edmund, heir to the throne of Tierney.”

It stared back defiantly, and Charles felt less sure about the merfolk’s respect for royalty. “Do you… have a name?” he asked, with far less princely surety than he would have liked.

It cocked its head at him, and as its hair fell to the side and Charles saw its face in detail for the first time, he realized with a shock that the merman was perfectly, breathtakingly beautiful. His features were strong and statuesque, surprisingly classical on such an exotic creature. Charles stared in wonder.

“You’re – you’re not like I thought you’d be,” he stuttered, feeling stupid. The creature was bewitching.

The merman spoke then, a shrieking sort of noise that sounded like a curse. Charles felt fear race down his spine. All the tales he had heard as a boy came rushing back: how the merfolk haunted the shores of Allenor, circling like sharks, and the way they always preceded their kills with haunting, fearsome cries. He felt trapped, panicked, and yet unable to move, even though his every muscle was tense with the urge to flee. But he could not, could *not*, he could barely breathe as that horrible thing stared at him, its flat eyes unblinking as it spoke its devilish tongue.

And then it was gone.

Charles gasped, feeling as though he had been drowning. The merman had barely left a splash. He scanned the pool frantically, looking for a glimmer of scales. He found it, and realized the merman was heading right back for him, and abandoning every pretense of princely dignity Charles turned and ran.

He had made about ten strides when he heard a splash and a wet, smacking sounded. Charles stopped, frozen, but there was nothing more. The merman had leapt out of the water, he was sure of it. The image came to him of the merman crawling forward on his hands and elbows, awkward but efficient like an alligator on land, those horrible teeth bared and those fierce eyes narrowed as he closed in on his prey.

Charles turned quickly, nearly overcompensating in his rush. The merman was not, as he had feared, snapping at his heels, but lay on the rock Charles had been standing on moments before. It was impressive even out of the water, but did not look overtly threatening. It looked, if Charles were to judge an animal by human standards, inviting. It held something in its hands, Charles noticed, and in the next moment threw it at him.

Charles caught the thing by reflex just before it hit his face, and then examined it as he held it. It was a ball, he realized, although a rather poor one, fashioned mostly with cork and tweed. Nothing a prince would ever be expected to hold. Charles looked back at the merman, which was holding its hands out in a clear invitation. “You want me to throw it?” Charles asked.

The merman made an encouraging motion with its head and chirped a bit. Charles tossed the ball. He felt removed from the situation, as though it could not possibly be him who was doing this, who was playing a *game* with a *merman*. The merman caught the ball easily, and bared its teeth widely before rolling back into the water.

It had smiled at him, Charles realized with a shock, before the ball came flying back up at him. It was wet, and a few salty drops of water flew up in his face as the ball smacked into his hand. He wiped his face and walked towards the pool. The merman had backed away from the rocks somewhat, and floated with half of its chest out of the water, as unearthly as it had been before. As it saw Charles it lifted its hands out of the water, clearly waiting for the ball. Still feeling confused, as though his actions were not his own, Charles tossed it. The merman caught it, before arching backwards into the water and backing farther away from him. It was even more graceful than the seals Charles had seen perform at his thirteenth birthday, curling and arching in the water with careless ease. It surfaced and threw the ball again, and Charles caught it.

Charles had not played any game so mundane since he had left the nursery, and even then every game had been fraught with lessons about winning and losing and the proper behavior of a prince. This creature, on the other hand, clearly did not care a wink that one day Charles would be ruler of all he saw. In fact he seemed to delight in making Charles run for the ball in a most unseemly way, darting back and forth in the pool so Charles never knew where the ball might go. Charles surprised himself by not caring, by abandoning himself to the simple pleasure of watching the merman leap about in the water and smile at him in his freakish way when he caught the ball. It was only when the sun began to set that Charles realized how much time had passed, how tired he was. He stopped, the ball in his hand.

“I have to go,” he explained, hoping the merman would understand somehow.

The merman did seem to realize that Charles did not want to play anymore, for he cocked his head again and stared up at Charles. Charles was not so frightened this time.

“Everyone in the castle is probably looking for me. I’ve been gone for hours and I’m sure my father will have practically declared a national crisis.” The merman swam to the edge again, at the shallow edge where Charles was standing, and stared up at him, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed. Charles realized that the merman was pouting, and he smiled as he called Ginger to him. His mare pricked her ears and started to amble over, clearly reticent to leave the grass. Charles tossed the ball to the merman started to approach his horse, when the sharp sound of the merman’s speech stopped him. He turned back, and saw that the merman was staring past him, at his horse. He looked back at Charles and spoke a bit, pointing at the horse.

Charles shifted his weight a bit, thinking. The merman had been not at all violent so far, but he did not know if the merman’s courtesy extended to horses. Perhaps the merman wanted a meal. He dithered, trying to decide if he was willing to risk it, when Ginger walked right past him and thrust her nose into the merman’s face, sniffing loudly.

The merman backed up a bit, alarmed, and Charles rushed forward to pull his horse away before he saw that the merman was not baring his teeth or making any threatening noises. Instead he was reaching out to Ginger’s face, surprisingly tentative for a creature said to kill without mercy. Ginger certainly didn’t seem afraid, smacking her lips over his fingers and butting at his face. The merman smiled and touched her face a bit, running his fingers along the long bones of her face and the muscles of her jaw. He pressed down on the soft skin of her nose, something Charles often did himself, and Ginger did a horse’s laugh, tossing her head and showing her teeth. The merman jerked back, and stared at Ginger with wide eyes as she turned to Charles and began to nose her way around his clothes, looking shamelessly for a treat. Charles laughed and swung up onto her saddle. The merman was still frozen, staring at the horse. “Goodbye,” Charles said, and the merman’s gaze flicked up at him, startled. But then he waved and said something Charles could only assume was a merfolk farewell. He waved in return and turned Ginger towards the castle.

He met the servants as far from the merman’s pool as he could manage, and told them only that he had felt like a ride across the grounds. He made no mention of the pool, and certainly did not say he had been playing catch with a merman. It was only later, after his servants had fussed over him and his tutors had been cross and his father had looked at him with his usual mix of irritation and frustration, that Charles wondered how, exactly, the merman had gotten hold of a ball.

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Far Seer twirled impatiently in the water as he waited for Kee-Kee to arrive. Life in captivity had become remarkably more interesting since he had moved to the new pool, and he was no longer tortured with boredom and apathy, but he still hated having to wait for his amusement to come to him. Far Seer had made a life out of exploration, and there was little he found more frustrating than being unable to seek out what he wanted. He wondered sometimes if this was what all his friends felt when they waited for him to return. That made him sad, but not as sad as when he contemplated the idea that they did not miss him at all, since he was gone so often.

At last his sensitive ears picked up the unmistakable sound of Kee-Kee crashing through the trees. Far Seer wondered what it was like to be in the midst of trees, if they were anything like kelp or some other ocean plant. Plants on land seemed to be so impossibly big.

Kee-Kee came into view and approached the shallow end, where he and Far Seer had met every time after the first. Far Seer was more than able to leap onto the higher rocks of the deeper end, but the landing was always awkward and difficult. Kee-Kee had apparently noticed, and had politely taken to going to the shallow end, where he could sit on smooth sand and Far Seer could lie near him, half in the water and half out. Sometimes they spent their time just like that, next to each other in the afternoon sun, close but not touching. Far Seer had been very careful about touching his human ever since that awkward first day that had sent Kee-Kee running away. Kee-Kee had returned a few days later, apparently not angry, and Far Seer tried to show his gratitude by doing as little as possible to upset him. Touching Kee-Kee had been exhilarating, but speaking to him was more than enough.

“Hello, Kee-Kee” he said, and Kee-Kee replied with the human word for “hello.” Far Seer had tried to mimic it once or twice, just to show that he understood. Kee-Kee had tried Far Seer’s version of the greeting, and they had laughed at each other’s renditions. Language was at once the biggest barrier between them and the greatest source of entertainment.

“I met another human the other day,” Far Seer said proudly. Kee-Kee stared back at him attentively, listening even if he didn’t understand. Kee-Kee was always very patient about listening to him, and Far Seer was grateful. He would have gone mad without someone to talk to, even if his audience couldn’t understand. Kee-Kee often spoke to him, as well, and Far Seer liked that, too. Humans could be very nice to listen to, their voices as low as whales but with much more speed and variety. It was interesting.

“It was another male, a bit bigger than you. He had very shiny hair, like the color of dry sand but prettier. It was curly, too. Humans have such interesting hair. And he had blue eyes, although obviously they weren’t like mine. That was kind of strange, seeing human eyes that were blue. Anyway, he was a bit stupid, I think, because he moved rather slowly and it took him a long time to realize how to play with the ball.”

“Ball?” Kee-Kee repeated, clearly recognizing the word. “Ball” was part of their slowly growing vocabulary.

Far Seer nodded, cupping his hands to make their little sign for “ball,” and continued: “He got it eventually, though, and it was fun to play. I’m glad I didn’t kill him. I was going to, at first, especially since he kicked rocks at my pool, but then I thought you might not like it. I wouldn’t want to kill a friend of yours accidentally. I’ve decided not to kill humans unless I have to, because of that. Except anyone who hurts you, of course.” Ever since the frightening moment in the strange moving pool, when he had been terrified that he would never see Kee-Kee again because he had killed one of his friends, Far Seer had been wary about killing humans. His meeting with the blue eyed human had given him the first chance to test himself, and he had found it surprisingly easy to get along with him.

“Oh, and I met a horse. It was much bigger than I expected. They look very strange, horses. Humans look a little like us, at least, but horses are just strange. And they smell funny, and make weird noises. They have nice eyes, though, and soft noses, and it was very friendly. It was fun. I wish I could see more land animals.”

He looked at Kee-Kee, and Kee-Kee smiled in a friendly way. Far Seer sketched a horse in the wet sand. As drawings went it was a little pathetic, but he had not done such things since he was a pup, playing on the beach with his friends. “Horse,” he said. It felt strange, teaching a human about horses, if only their name. By all rights Kee-Kee ought to be teaching him. Far Seer wondered if Kee-Kee saw horses often. Perhaps he even rode them!

Kee-Kee stared at the picture. “Horse,” he repeated in a pretty passable accent. His human voice had nothing of the merfolk range, but in the weeks they had been speaking each had improved at the other’s language. Kee-Kee gave the human word for “horse,” and it sounded like a cough or the bark of a seal. Far Seer imitated it. There were some sounds the humans could pronounce that he knew his tongue could not manage, but he had become adept at recognizing them, at least.

Kee-Kee grinned at his attempt, and then made a noise like the horse had, shaking his head and pawing the ground with his hands. Far Seer laughed at that, clapping his hands and nodding to show that Kee-Kee had gotten it exactly.

They played with words for a while. Far Seer loved learning new things, and had always had a strong memory. He also had nothing better to do than learn and practice. Kee-Kee seemed to have a similar gift for language. His pronunciation was as poor as Far Seer’s, but he had a very quick mind and was adept at illustrating the words. They communicated simple concepts well enough, and had fun discovering the other’s term for something. Far Seer’s favorite word so far was “pebble.” It made him giggle every time.

Kee-Kee suggested they play with the ball, and Far Seer happily agreed. Kee-Kee, unlike the other human he had met, was very good at playing with the ball. He jumped and twirled and did all sorts of interesting human things to get it, and when Far Seer clapped and cheered he smiled and blushed, which Far Seer liked even more. When Kee-Kee threw the ball for him, Far Seer tried to leap about as much as he could, making sure his shining scales were portrayed in the most flattering light. It was a hot day, filled with sunshine, and he knew his scales glistened in it.

After they had played a while, Kee-Kee stopped suddenly, ball in hand. He looked confused, shifting his weight from side to side in a way Far Seer had come to realize meant he was upset about something. “What?” he asked, another word they both knew.

“Hot,” replied Kee-Kee, a human word Far Seer recognized.

“Water?” he suggested in his own language. Humans drank water, apparently, although not the kind he was used to. Kee-Kee brought it with him in a little container of animal skins sometimes, and had offered it to Far Seer once. It had tasted sweet, although a little strange. Far Seer only got his water from the fish he ate.

Kee-Kee shook his head, and shifted his weight some more. “Water?” he asked, and pointed at Far Seer’s right.

Far Seer looked to the right and saw nothing except a few small fish. He snatched one up and offered it to Kee-Kee. “Fish?”

“No,” said Kee-Kee, starting to look frustrated. “Water.”

Far Seer frowned. Humans didn’t drink sea water. Kee-Kee couldn’t want the water to drink. Unless he meant… “You want to come in?” he asked, and waved a bit at the water in front of him, unsure how to show that with gestures. Kee-Kee frowned, clearly confused, and Far Seer waved him over to the shallow end of the pool. Kee-Kee followed, and when they were both at the sand Far Seer held out his hand, curling one finger as an invitation. “Come in!”

Kee-Kee grinned, and said something incomprehensible, before he stripped off his shirt. And then his pants as well! Far Seer practically twirled with excitement at getting to see human legs again. How strange they were, more so now in the light.

Kee-Kee took off his clothes easily enough waded into the water, but was tentative in taking Far Seer’s hand. Far Seer tried not to pull, although he was desperately happy about having Kee-Kee in his pool, close enough to touch and all for him to see. He led Kee-Kee in gently, and didn’t try to hold on as Kee-Kee finally dove into the water, coming up for air a second later and shaking his exotic brown hair.

Far Seer had never seen a human swim before, and Kee-Kee did not seem adept at it. He mostly flailed his limbs, and used his arms a great deal. Far Seer marveled at how difficult it must be to swim without a tail. “Help?” he asked, offering his hands.

Kee-Kee seemed hesitant for a moment, before nodding and taking tentative hold of Far Seer’s arms. His skin seemed so soft compared to Far Seer’s own, and Far Seer could see that there were little hairs on his forearms, lighter than the hair on his head. He wondered if all humans had that, or just Kee-Kee. Everything about Kee-Kee was so fascinating.

Kee-Kee was long for a human, but not particularly broad, and Far Seer did not have trouble supporting his weight. He led Kee-Kee around the pool slowly, careful not to kick him with his tail. Human flesh seemed to bruise so easily. He offered to take Kee-Kee into his cave, but Kee-Kee shook his head emphatically and lost a bit of color, and Far Seer led him away quickly. After a bit Kee-Kee seemed to grow more comfortable with the water, and let go of Far Seer, splashing and paddling about on his own while Far Seer did circles about him, trying to see his beautiful human body from every angle. Then Kee-Kee ran his hand along his scales as he passed by, and Far Seer froze as his heart jumped to his throat. He wished more than ever that he could speak with Kee-Kee freely, even though for the life of him he knew not what to say.

Suddenly Kee-Kee splashed him, and Far Seer sputtered. He was almost angry, but Kee-Kee was laughing at him, and so Far Seer laughed too, and splashed him back. It quickly descended into the kind of fight Far Seer had not had since he was a pup, playing on the beach of his homeland. He kept getting water in his mouth because he was laughing, and he kept missing Kee-Kee even though he could not stop staring at him, and he realized in the middle of it that he was happy. Even if he was trapped in a human cage and not in the open sea he longed for, he was more happy than he had been in a long time. He had been lonely even when he was free, he realized.

He felt that loneliness clench him again when Kee-Kee had to leave. Far Seer watched him put on his clothes said goodbye with a forced smile, and stubbornly did not cry after him. Kee-Kee had returned many times now, for weeks and weeks, and Far Seer could be patient. He had a friend now. No one could take that away from him.

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Terry’s life had settled into a pleasing routine. Every morning he did what gardening was required of him, and then sorted and categorized what herbs were ready. He worked often with Maggie, one of the royal cooks, who told him when certain herbs were required for a particular elaborate dish. Maggie was a strapping girl, of heavy peasant stock, and generally rather free with her affection, but she had seemed to catch on quickly that Terry did not like to be touched, and did not push the matter. He was grateful, and strove to be warm to her in response.

His other acquaintance these days was Peter, an attendant to the royal doctors, who came sometimes to request one herb or another. He had learned early on that Terry had used to work for the duke, and had perhaps thought his position was under threat, for he was cold and imperious for weeks. Terry had made a point of saying how happy he was working in the garden, and eventually Peter calmed down. He was polite enough, when his insecurity was not piqued, and Terry did not dislike his visits.

Wolscraft dropped by on him from time to time, standing at the edge of the garden and asking after his health and happiness. Terry had thought him an extremely efficient overseer, who cared enough to attend all of his workers. He mentioned it one day to Maggie, while she cut leeks and he had his supper, and she had laughed. “Wolscraft? That old bugger? He’s as efficient as ol’ Billy over there.” She gestured with the knife at the sleepy old dog who lay curled up by Terry’s table. “You ask me now, Terry, he’s just got an eye for pretty lads who like to get their hands dirty.” She winked at him lasciviously, but must have noticed the look on his face, for she amended quickly, “Not that he would take liberties, mind. He’s a good man and no doubt about that. Never took advantage of any of the lads here and if anyone gives you trouble you can count on him to sort it out right proper. He’s just got good taste, don’tcha know. Besides, anyone with half a mind could see that you’ve got a sweetheart already.”

She smiled at him, and Terry tried to smile back. It was true that every other day, whenever he got the chance, he hopped the old stone fence and rambled his way over to the pool, where he spent the rest of the afternoon with Kai. Maggie and a few of the other cooks had asked where he ran off to whenever he had the time, and he had, if not lied exactly, let them believe that he was meeting someone close to him.

He was, although he doubted any of them guessed that his friend had scales. Kai was his closest friend these days, and the only one he could be touched by at all without flinching. It was only with Kai that he felt he could be himself, laughing and marveling at Kai’s antics, drawing pictures in the sand and imitating Kai’s words as Kai imitated his. They did the stupidest things together, splashing water at each other and playing catch with the lumpy ball Terry had made, but he was always ridiculously happy to do them. The pool, with its flat rocks warmed by the sun, soft white sand, and cool, clear water, was a haven to him. Kai’s arrival at the palace, which had seemed like a curse at first, the memories of his ordeal following him wherever he went, had turned out to be the best thing for him.

Even though there were no guards to catch him, since none were posted and Kai’s food came in through the same tubes that delivered and filtered his seawater, Terry was always careful to remove any traces he had been there. He wiped his footprints away from the sand, and never went by the path. It had been months, and no one had bothered him. It was even whispered about at court that the prince must disdain his uncle’s gift, for he spent no time near it, essentially ensuring that others did the same. Terry kept his ears open for news that the prince would be making a visit to the pool, since undoubtedly it would be nothing less than a procession if he did, and in the meantime considered himself safe.