Chapter 2

Lenalia breathed a sigh of relief when she rounded the last bend in the road into West Haven. She hadn't realized how difficult having legs could be, and her feet hurt. Fortunately, the townsfolk at the town she surfaced at assumed she'd been in a shipwreck during the thunderstorm that night, and clothed her before sending her away. The next village down the road had a sick child that she helped, and had given her a few coins to get her to her destination. The dark-haired general dug in her skirt pocket for the coins and scowled at them when she opened her hand.

She only had three of the silver coins and eight of the copper coins left, but she'd be damned if she knew what she was going to do with them. Apparently, they were a type of money, similar to the merfolk's trions and skels. Based on her experiences from the past few days, the silver coins, called shillings, were good for a night's rest at a way-house, including a warm bath and a small dinner. The coppers were much less useful, and failed to interest her.

Lenalia got to the town's entrance, marked only by a better constructed road, and stopped. The streets were filled with laughing humans and screeching children, not exactly what she'd been hoping for. She wanted a nice, quiet night to rethink her plans for finding out what her mother wanted with the strange creatures. The gods were obviously testing her, and she straightened up and strode forward with confidence.

She would have blended in well, if it weren't for the human legs Lenalia found herself stuck with. The general of the mer armies managed to land perfectly on her rump in a puddle of water. She tried to right herself, but her feet got tangled in her skirts and each other and she merely flopped back into the puddle.

“Careful, lass, that cobble's slick! Oy, Richard, help the wee lass up, will ye?!” Lenalia turned toward the richly accented voice and saw an old man leaning on his cane, and a similar looking younger man reaching forward to help her to her feet.

She blushed and tried to smooth her skirts as the men looked her over. “Thank you, sir. My feet are sore from my travels, and I didn't feel them slip.”

The old man smiled kindly at her. “I haven't heard your accent before, lass. Where do ye hail from?”

Lenalia blinked, struggling with the man's rolled rs. “Pardon me?”

The younger man laughed and assisted her. “Sorry, miss, Grandfather's a Scotsman. He's hard to understand when he's excited.”

The raven-haired mer smiled nervously, not wanting to come up with an origin for herself. She certainly hadn't thought about that question. “Excited about what, exactly?”

The men looked at each other before taking up spots on either side of her. The younger man, whose name Lenalia remembered was Richard, extended a bent arm towards her. She looked at it for a moment before realizing she was supposed to hold onto it. She gently placed a hand on his arm and found herself led down the street.

“Well, lass, the pride o' the town's come in at last. We thought her and her crew to be harmed in the storm a few nights ago, but she's still afloat!” The old man waved his cane in the air before leaning back onto his cane.

“Our lovely town's a merchant town, miss. We trade with others on the island or on the mainland by using our lord's ship, the Journeyman's Leaf. We have a few smaller vessels about, but they're fishing vessels, mostly. Others are too small to trade further than Pearl Cove. That's a village about two day's ride down this road.” Lenalia nodded. That was the village she'd first surfaced at. “Now, with the horrid squall gone through, and no word from any safe harbor along the Leaf's course, we thought we might've lost them. Fortunately, that ship's too strong to be floundered by that little shower, and here she is, coming home to us.” Richard stopped and looked at her. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble.”

Lenalia looked up from her feet, startled. “I find this conversation quite interesting, actually. I've never lived near ships before.”

Both men looked appalled by that statement. “Lass, you have been missin' quite the excitement.” The old man shook his head. “See, Captain Jonathan, good man--”

Lenalia couldn't help but smile as the two men spoke of the ship's crew and led her towards the docks.



Jonathan looked at his father's anxious face on the docks and winced. He was hoping both his sons were safe and sound, but he was about to be disappointed. Samuel had been rushed to Daniel's cabin after he collapsed while coughing blood, and hadn't stirred since. His breathing was shallow and quick, almost constantly interrupted by coughs that tore through his entire body. The two days it took to come home seemed like an eternity to the captain and worried crew, and it seemed like they would make it home just in time to let Sam die in the same house he was born in.

Father will die. I know it. John hung his head and waited for the crew to lower the gangplank so they could carry his brother to land and his father. How the man hadn't heard the coughs already was beyond him. The green-eyed captain strode forward as the gangplank was secured and walked down it to greet his father.

The older man smiled at his son and embraced him tightly. “My boy! Good to see you in one piece! Why, it doesn't look like you did any work at all!” The man looked his son over quickly. “Not even a hole in your clothes. Where's your brother? No, let me guess: harassing the crew below decks?”

John stopped his father's babbling with a look. “Father, Sam is very ill.” The older man paled. “He stayed on deck when I ordered his watch below. He must have climbed the nets while I had my back turned. Sam was out there all night, and he must have gotten sick from that blasted storm!”

“How bad is it, Jonathan?” His father's eyes held his, and John was forced to look away.

“He's going to die, Father. Daniel's the only doctor in the area, and he's at a loss. He might survive the night, but not tomorrow.” John's eyes filled with tears. “I don't want to lose him, Father. He's all we have.”

His father gripped his arm and watched the crew disembark and run to embrace their families and friends. The last two crewmen came down to the dock with a stretcher carrying Sam between them. The coughs coming from the stretcher were now audible, and the crowd closest to the sick man fell silent. “We'll still have each other, John, we'll still have each other.”

Lenalia, who had been dragged through the crowd by her escorts, surveyed the scene before her, wondering why the townsfolk had become so quiet. The two blond men off to one side were looking at the other blond in the stretcher, and were carrying on a hushed conversation. When the townsfolk behind her heard the news about the ill man and became silent, her besieged ears adjusted, and she heard the wet coughs.

Those aren't normal. Lenalia thought, trying to listen carefully. She pushed her way through the men still in front of her. He's ill. Not normal ill, either. Magic ill. She couldn't suppress the gasp when she realized that Evana's magic—the smell of it—was all around the sick men.

Her gasp attracted the attention of the two blond men near the stretcher. Lenalia squared her shoulders and took a step forward, out of the crowd. “Excuse me, sirs, what illness has taken hold of that man?”

The younger man strode forward, stopping uncomfortably close to Lenalia. “Why do you wish to know? My brother is dying, miss, and he is not something to be gawked at.”

The mer raised an eyebrow. “Why don't you swallow your pride for one moment, sir? Perhaps then he won't die while the entire town watches.” The man gaped at her, but Lenalia only rolled her grey eyes. “By the looks of it, he's been sick only for two nights, three at most. I take it he's been coughing up blood, and I can hear how shallow his breathing is from here. He needs to be brought inside, now. The salty air is going to do him more harm than good.”

The man didn't move. “Miss, I doubt you can do any good here. You're only a woman, after all.”

Lenalia's eyes hardened. She'd dealt with fussier mermen than this human, and she'd be cursed by the gods if she gave up so easily now. She shoved past the man, making his stumble backward into the crewmen nearby, and knelt by the stretcher, feeling the sick man's forehead. She knew by looking at him that he had a high fever, but she wanted to feel for her mother's magic. It was curled around the poor man's lungs, infecting them and slowly killing him. She stood and turned towards the other blond.

“If you can deal with me being a woman, hear me out.” She paused and the man crossed his arms, waiting. “Good. I know the cure.”



Mitchell Wash, Lord Mayor of West Haven, looked at the newcomer as she took over his large kitchen and thought she was different in some way from others like her. He knew what she was, at least partially. Black hair, grey eyes, and a way with words that would make any man quiver with fear meant she was definitely a royal. The fact that she was stumbling every few steps merely confirmed that. He chuckled and strode forward to help the girl fend off his irate cook.

“Margaret, please go home. It's been a long day, and I'm sure your husband would like to see you a little early.” The large woman huffed and curtsied before leaving. Mitchell turned his charms to the girl bustling about in his cupboards. “If I may, milady, I know my way around this maze and could speed up the process.”

The girl glared at him. “I've told everyone that's come through to help that I can manage just fine on my own.” She reached for the cupboard next to her left leg and lost her balance, falling into Mitchell's waiting arms. “Gods curse it all! This damned dress is much too long! 'It'll fit you perfectly, miss', she said. 'It's not to long, miss', she said. What I would give for a pair of trousers!” She righted herself and yanked open the cupboard door, grabbed a large pot from inside, and slammed it shut.

“Perhaps you'd do better with your tail instead of legs, yes?” Mitchell said calmly.

The girl froze completely before her legs gave out. “W-what did you say?”

“Tut-tut, my dear, human women don't rumple their skirts like that. Take my hand, and I'll help you up. There's a girl.” The Lord Mayor's eyes glinted mischievously.

“You are a very bad man, sir.” She said as she stood. “How did you know?”

“Milady, you look like your father. How is King Verilan?” The man sat at the large servant's table and crossed his legs. “He was the one who suggested I repair this part of Haven and found it, after all. Also, a name for you other than 'milady' or 'my dear' would be nice.”

The girl's eyes darkened and her face showed her grief. “My name is Lenalia, and my father is dead, sir. He died several weeks ago.”

Mitchell patted a chair next to his, but Lenalia shook her head. “He was a good king, I'm truly sorry to hear of his passing. How did he die? It was my understanding that you merfolk lived for centuries.”

The girl lifted the bucket of water she'd pumped earlier onto the wooden counter and filled the pot. As she set it in the hole on the stove, she shook her head. “Most of them do, my lord. I suspect, as do others, that my father was murdered by the sorceress-Queen Evana.”

“I know of her. Verilan used to tell me tales of her failed schemes. He seemed amused rather than concerned. Go on, Lenalia.” Mitchell watched the girl crush herbs into the pot and steady herself.

“He was always curious about her. One day, almost twenty years ago, he bedded her. I think he was hoping to forge a truce between the two realms, but others believe Evana seduced him. Personally, I think it was a bit of both. He loved her, or so he told me at one point, and they had a truce for three years after that. Once Evana realized that he wasn't going to wed her, she attacked one of the border villages and that ended the truce. We've been at war ever since.” She stirred the pot before placing her hand over it. “This might look painful, but, I assure you, it's not.”

Mitchell winced as she submerged her hand into the hot water. A moment later, she lifted the hand and shook it. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. It's sticky, that's all.” She examined her hand as if it wasn't attached and then tasted some of the liquid. She shuddered and nodded. “Perfect.”

The man looked the girl over and realized that she couldn't be older than nineteen. A revelation came to him as Lenalia wiped her hand off with a damp towel. “You're the result of that day, aren't you? Evana's your mother.”

The girl looked at him suspiciously. “You are far too perceptive for your own good, my lord.”

“Stop calling me 'my lord'. My name's Mitchell.” He saw the steam coming up from the pot. “If that's done, you should go give it to my son.”

“He's not going to enjoy this treatment, sir. It'll last a couple of weeks at least, and this isn't the most pleasant potion.”

“Good. Maybe then he won't disobey his brother anymore. Goodness knows we don't need any more swordfish problems!”

Lenalia cocked her head, confused. “Swordfish problems, sir?”

“I'll explain later.”

Chapter 1

The night was just beginning, and many merfolk saw the passing group and waved before continuing on their way. The kingdom was prospering, despite the war that was being waged halfway across the realm. The three mer that were talking animatedly were discussing just that. The sirens and mer were at an unhappy standstill, their armies equally matched in numbers and power, but the mer had just become more vulnerable with the loss of their king just a fortnight past. The ruler of the sirens, Sorceress-Queen Evana, was suspected to have played a part in the king's untimely demise, but the proof was vague at best.

“King Verilan would not have wanted us to give up, milady. We could move our troops away from the border and try to reduce the tension between our two kingdoms.” A council member for over fifty years to the late King Verilan, Torrus was an excellent strategist, but had lately had problems with the leadership of the mer armies.

The merman swimming between the council member and the general of the armies sighed and ran a webbed hand through his hair. “I don't think that's what my sister had in mind, Torrus.” He looked at his half-sister and saw her relax a little. She was stubborn and young, but was a leader through and through, and refused to retreat unless that was the best option for the kingdom. Her black hair floated in front of her face, hiding her eyes from the council member and her brother. “Perhaps Lenalia should tell us her plans, instead of us ordering her around, for a change.”

Torrus tensed up all the way to the tip of his silver tail. He took pride in his ability to control the rebellious general, and having the other merman undermine his control was offensive. “Your Majesty, I don't think your father—”

“My father is dead, Council Member. I am the new king, and you will listen to me. Lenalia, dear sister, what are your plans for the borderlines?” The king shot a glare at Torrus, preventing the argument that was about to pass through his lips.

The general looked at her brother with respect, her grey eyes shining with pride for his new backbone. “I plan to send reinforcements in the morning. The sirens have backed off for now, but that seems to be only a temporary situation. After all, Evana did love my father, if only for a brief time. She's showing that she respected the old king, but that leads me to suspect that she'll have her armies attack with more force to express her disdain for Kanshil. No offense, dear brother, but you are quite vulnerable during this period of change.” She smiled for a moment, shot a glare rivaling her brother's at Torrus, and continued. “We are lacking in magical support at that front, and I plan to send the royal mages at them.”

Kanshil laughed, seeing her plan clearly. He glanced at Torrus, who was obviously confused. “You plan to take out that entire front, don't you? Pull our troops back for the initial attack, then destroy the trench and make those sirens quake in their fins, right?” Comprehension lit Torrus's face and his look of disrespect changed to one of glee.

“That would send the message to Evana that we're not afraid of destroying her sirens, without actually doing much damage. That's—milady?” The blond council member frowned, seeing a look cross over Lenalia's face, as if she was looking many miles past them.

“Len?” The king shook his sister lightly until she blinked and focused back on him. “What did you see?”

Lenalia's voice shook with rage. “Evana's attacking the humans. Her magic's on its way towards West Haven. I think it's going after a ship.”

“I didn't feel anything. Are you sure it's Evana? Torrus and I should have sensed it as well if it were.” Kanshil looked at Torrus, who shook his head.

The general sighed. “You have no siren blood in you, so you wouldn't sense this spell.” Her grey eyes flashed black and back again. “Mother's up to something.”

Kanshil let go of his half-sister and backed away. Only when she was fighting for control over her siren blood, given to her when Evana seduced King Verilan, did she call the evil queen 'mother'. “You're going to follow her magic, aren't you?”

Lenalia jerked in surprise, and looked at her brother in shock, now in full control once again. “You knew?”

“It's you, Len. Crazy stunts are pretty much a daily thing with you. Besides, if you sensed the magic, you can stop it. I'll check in with you once every two weeks at sunset. Keep no secrets from me, Lenalia. We're dealing with humans, and they can be deadly. You know the stories Father used to tell us!”

Torrus gaped at the siblings. “You can't just let her go! She's our general, and we're at war!”

The king nodded. “I know, but we have seconds in command for this purpose. Besides, if she can figure out what Evana wants with the humans, we might be able to end this damned war and unify the two kingdoms.” Torrus was about to speak again when Kanshil held up a hand. “It's her decision, and it's been made. Lenalia, please be careful. Evana might be using one of the humans to lure you into a trap.”

The raven-haired mer nodded and hugged her brother. “Don't get yourself killed while I'm gone, okay?”

“Love you too, Lenni. Now get going.”



On the surface world, a beautiful night had turned violent. Storm clouds roiled with energy, causing lightning to illuminate a lone ship and her crew. Thunder boomed, and shook the ship's masts, making the crew tighten their holds and mutter hurried prayers before returning to the rigging. Two blond men spoke rapidly as they fought to keep control of the helm. One looked at the other, his green eyes worried.

“Well, this is fun! Whoop, there's the current. The helm should hold easy now, John. I'm going to go help the others!” The man ran towards the bow, shouting orders as he went. “Furl that damned mainsail! It'll pull us out of the current again! No, damn it all, drop anchor! Maybe we won't die then!”

The other man he left in charge of the helm glanced around. “Sam, get back over here!” The first man whirled around and slid on the soaked deck, landing hard on a hip. He struggled to his feet and hobbled back to the other. “That looked like it hurt, Sam. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, but my pride's a little bruised.” He looked over his shoulder at the men doing as he ordered and straightened up. “Captain, the mainsail is furled and the anchor should hold fast. We're not going anywhere in this.”

The captain looked behind Sam and examined the frantic work being done. “Sam, how long has your watch been out here? We've been out here for hours!” There were red tinges coloring the horizon. “Your watch was here at the beginning of this blasted storm, and you're all soaked. Order them to get below decks and warm up, now!”

Lightning flashed again and some of the men staggered with exhaustion as they tied down ropes. Sam looked down at his soaked shirt and breeches and chuckled. “They do need a break.” He turned and shouted, “Third watch, get below decks and rest! Now!”

John raised an eyebrow, once again impressed with his brother's ability to shout above thunder. “That means you, too! You're soaked, and need sleep. Get going!”

“You still need my—”

“No, you said we'd be alright now. Go!” John glared at Sam. “It's an order, as your captain!” Lightning struck the mizzen mast and the crew scrambled for buckets. “Leave be! The wood's soaked and won't light! Go back to the rigging!”

When John turned back to order his brother again, Sam was gone. Just as well he listened. It wouldn't do for us to fight in front of the men.

John didn't see a tall blond man climbing the shrouds despite his orders, and went back to commanding the men on the deck.



Underwater, a figure surrounded by others swam back and forth, silently fuming. Her grey-violet hair was tied back with a leather strap, and the claws on her hands were unsheathed. Her eyes were narrowed and filled with controlled rage. Her followers didn't move, praying that their queen didn't lose control and kill one of them in her fury. She growled and flung a bolt of magic to a nearby rock, which shattered upon impact.

“Damn that daughter of mine!!” She flung another bolt at a shark, and watched it implode with disdain. “Kora!”

One of the queen's followers swam forward to her side. “Yes, Evana?”

Evana glared at Kora and rolled her eyes. “Take these fools away from me. I wish for silence!” The black-haired follower bowed and shooed everyone else off. The queen of the sirens sat on her throne and sighed when Kora bowed in front of her after making sure the others stayed away. “Kora, I wish my eldest to suffer a horrible death...what do you suggest?”

The siren thought for a moment and shrugged. “She's fascinated with the humans. Make sure she gets attached to certain ones, then kill them all. Save her for last. That would make her heart tear in two, and make the magic that returns to you from her blood taste that much sweeter.”

Evana nodded. “You're getting better at your schemes, Adept. I've already lured her away from the small safety of the mer kingdom using the humans. What next?” The siren had already had her plan all thought out, but she wanted to see how the youngest of her daughters would kill a sibling.

“Perhaps...cast a spell on one of her new pets and make her fall in love while helping the others right the damage you inflict upon him. Wait until she has him wound around her finger, then murder the bastard, implicating her in the process. Her other pets will kill her for her treachery.”

Evana clapped. “Very good, Daughter. Your idea would kill any mer, but you must remember that Lenalia has some of our powers as well.” The queen's eyes flashed, showing her belief that Lenalia should have been a pure siren, and corruptible by her.

Kora looked confused, her long hair swirling around her head as she tilted it. She knew Lenalia was a half-breed, but hadn't realized that the siren powers had transferred as well. “Mother, how does the mer blood purify her powers?”

Her mother's eyes snapped in anger, and Kora's question was answered with a hard, backhanded slap. “You fool! Her mer blood doesn't purify the siren powers. It corrupts them!”

Evana's youngest spawn looked at her mother again, holding her bleeding and bruised cheek. “Meaning?”

The words were choked out of Evana's throat. “It makes her a healer.”



Jonathan was forced into a seat by the Chief Steward of his ship, grumbling the whole time. A bowl of hot stew was placed in front of him and a glare from the steward told him that he'd better eat—or else. The blond grinned, and started eating just as his brother came down from the shrouds and sat at the makeshift table. Samuel sighed and stole John's roll.

“Quite a day, huh?” He said, noticing his brother's stare and pointing at the bowl in front of the captain. “You should eat that. I saw Peter running around all morning trying to keep up with poor Daniel's meal recommendations. At least stew met all of them. Oh, thanks Peter! Smells delicious!”

Jonathan grabbed the roll that came with Samuel's meal and glared at him. “You've been messing about the shrouds since I ordered you down below, haven't you?” His brother's guilty grin gave him all the answer he needed, and he slammed his mug of mulled wine on the makeshift table hard. “Dammit, Sam, I ordered you to get some sleep! If I can't get you to obey orders, then how the hell am I going to get the crew to listen?!”

Samuel sighed and ate a spoonful of stew. “John, I'm your brother. I'm supposed to disobey your orders occasionally. It keeps you on your toes. Say, have you sent a letter to Sadrick Harbor or Eastbrook yet? Daniel's joint troubles are getting worse, and we can't go without a surgeon on board!”

The captain slapped his head. “I keep forgetting! Oh, well. We'll be home in two days. I can write the letter on the way, then send it off once we dock. In the meantime, though, you are going to finish eating, then you're going to go down below and get some rest. I'll take your watch tonight, too.”

His brother rolled his eyes and took a sip of wine. “Fine, I'll rest. If I'm up later, though...”

“Then you can take watch with me.” Jonathan looked away from his brother and noticed the rest of the crew quickly turning their attention to their meals and chuckled. “Well, at least we didn't end up roaring at each other this time.”

“Unlike the swordfish incident?” The grin on Sam's face grew and his eyes danced.

The other blond laughed. “Oh, goodness! Remember when we got done tearing into each other?”

“Yes! That's when Father decided that it was his turn! He didn't know which one of us he was angrier with.” A few of the closer crew members overheard the conversation and also started smiling and laughing.

“He was lucky we didn't destroy the ship!” Sam's laugh turned into a yawn and the blond blinked. “I think it's time for me to go to bed. Thank you again for the warm meal, Peter.”

Jonathan gripped his brother's arm. “Thank you for helping out for longer than necessary. Sleep well.”

As Samuel went below decks, another crew member walked up to Jonathan and sat in Samuel's vacated seat. He set down his bowl of stew and his mug, and brushed his brown hair away from his face. “He'll be okay, John.”

The blond looked the man up and down for any injuries, then, satisfied, shrugged. “He's exhausted and anxious to get home. Something's calling to him, I can feel it.”

“You can feel it? Like your weather-sense, or something else?” The brunet dipped his bread into the stew before taking a bite out of it.

John shook his head. “Something else. Different. I've never felt this kind of thing before. It feels like...like the night after we buried Mother. It was hazy then and now it's—I can't describe it well, I'm sorry, Timothy.”

Timothy nodded. “It feels pure, not clouded with emotion. I felt something that night as well. We had to have been affected by the emotions of others, the mood was so dark that night. Maybe it's how we all feel after that storm.” He took another bite of bread and said around the mouthful, “Speaking of which, would you like to know the casualty report?” The blond nodded and braced himself. “Miles has a badly twisted ankle—he fell off the fighting top when the lightning hit the foremast.”

“Lucky he didn't break his neck.”

“That's what I told him when he had the nerve to complain to me about it. The ass almost gave me a heart attack when I saw him fall. There's a note for you: never get emotionally attached to a shipmate.”

Jonathan laughed, well aware, as was the rest of the crew, that Timothy preferred men over women and was currently attached to Miles, another crewman on a different watch shift. “I don't plan on it.”

“Good. Let's see...ah, Matthew broke his arm, but according to Daniel it didn't break through. He called it a fracture or something. He'll be back on board in a month or so for light work. Now for the bad news.”

His captain's head jerked up, fear running though his features. “Bad news? Who didn't make it?”

Timothy's eyes filled up with tears he bravely held back. “Eric. He was in the crow's nest when lightning hit the main mast. We didn't find him until a couple hours after the rain let up. Daniel said the poor man wouldn't have had a chance, even if we had gotten to him earlier.”

“What did you do with the body?” John wasn't sure if he wanted the body to still be on board, but his worries fled when Tim shook his head.

“We covered him and gave him his rest. We couldn't have let his family see him the way he was, even if they did live close. I know you hate writing letters, John, and if you want me to write this one, I will.”

Eric's family didn't live on the large island John and most of his crew hailed from, the blond remembered. “Tim, don't even suggest it. I know you two were friends...why don't you go check on Miles? I'll go to my cabin and start writing it now. See if you can't get some rest.”

“Yessir.”



Jonathan was helping the men repair a frayed line when Samuel surfaced in time for his watch, yawning and shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. He saw his brother and grinned. John rolled his eyes and tossed Sam a small heap of tangled rope that had snapped.

“I hope you realize that these repairs aren't going to last long, John. New rope is going to cost Father a fortune!” The blond man looked at the tangles and growled, recognizing the central knot to be one of his making. “Alright, who made a bird's nest out of this line?”

His brother chuckled. “Sorry about that. In my defense, I did almost break my neck after tripping on it.” He reached over and grabbed a frayed end to wiggle in front of Sam's nose. “I managed to get one end out before giving up.”

Samuel sighed and hitched a hip up on the deck rail to work. “Thank you so very much, Brother Dear.” His blue eyes looked out across the calm ocean. “King Triton's brood must have been in distress earlier. Look at this calm!”

John knotted thin strands of frayed rope together before glancing up. “It's been like that since you went below, but the wind picked up not a moment before sundown.” John's eyes went unfocused, and his brother smiled. Everyone on the ship knew how much their captain wished to learn all the ocean's secrets and thought about them frequently. The captain shook his head slightly and asked in a quiet voice, “Do you really think merfolk exist? Not just in legends, I mean. Do you think they control the ocean with their power?”

Sam set the rope down on his lap. “Father says--”

“I'm not asking what Father believes. I'm asking what you believe, Sam.” John sighed. “I know you expect me to know what your thinking, being your twin and all, but once, just once, I want to hear you state your beliefs aloud.”

The concern in his brother eyes compelled Sam to take a deep breath and gesture to the water. “I believe that the Ocean can't ever be completely controlled by anyone, not even those with mystical powers. She's a passionate mistress, and has Her own ideas about what people want from Her. I believe She tests us by throwing dangerous storms at our men and our ships, and if we please Her, She will reward us with the best a sailor could want: calm seas and windy skies.”

Jonathan glared at his twin when he stopped. “I meant about the merfolk. Your beliefs about the merfolk.”

“I'm getting there, John. I believe tha--” Sam was cut off by a violent coughing fit. Once he recovered, he wiped his watering eyes and saw that his brother had steadied him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I'm fine, just breathed wrong. John, don't look at me like that, I—” Another cough sent the rope off Sam's lap and forced him to stand to breathe. He tried to make his throat work, but the coughs kept coming, making his head swim and his knees go weak. The blond could only see the wood on the ship's deck coming up to meet him before his world went black.

Introduction

So, here I am, a poor college student with a good idea. The 'poor' part of that is a big factor in this project. Well, so is the 'student' part. It basically means that I'm doing things through a blog because I can't afford to actually do anything spiffy right now, and the 'student' part means give me a little bit of slack in the beginning, I'm still learning. Please, bear with me.

This 'book', as I'm going to call it, has been driving me nuts since 2004, and here I am, 7 years later, finally posting something lucrative. I've toiled with the storyline, changed the characters significantly, and learned a lot more about writing in those 7 years.

I started working on this during this summer (summer of 2011) after having a revelation that can only be compared to playing Oregon Trail on the Mac (we're talking pre-OS 8 Mac), and suddenly waking up to find that you have internet though a fiber optic service.

In other words, I got bored and found that I had the talent to write this at long last.

So here it is. Here's my idea.

I hope this works.

(P.S. note the copyright symbol at the bottom of my posts. This work is mine, and mine alone. Mine. Any help used will be given fair credit at the beginning of each chapter.)