Storm Singing and other Tangled Tasks (9 page)

Rona felt the water swirl as Tangaroa turned to look back too.

But there was no shot reverberating through the water. No one had attacked the mermaid. She simply hadn’t dived deep enough after swimming along the ship, and her tail was tangled in the empty upper half of the net.

Serena had only screamed once. She was now struggling to free herself, but those useful human hands weren’t strong enough to pull her loose.

Rona glanced over at the mermaid judge. None of the judges could help, not unless Serena asked. And Serena wasn’t going to ask. She was thrashing to get free, tangling herself up more.

Rona shook her head. She didn’t really need to win this race. She’d proved she was faster than the blue loon and the mermaid. She’d proved she wasn’t a complete coward. She didn’t need to prove anything else.

So she flicked over to Tangaroa, and said, in her underwater seal voice, “Lend me a knife, please!”

He frowned at her, then reached down to his left ankle and pulled out a knife. She slid out of her sealskin, rolled it up under her arm, and reached out her human hand for the knife. He gave it to her, shrugged, and swam
away. Fine, thought Rona. He could win. He could be Sea Herald. She was a Storm Singer, she didn’t need any other titles.

She would need a breath of air in her human lungs soon though, so she’d better cut that mermaid out fast.

Rona swam back to the net, where Serena snapped, “I don’t NEED help. They might disqualify me!”

Rona couldn’t use her human voice underwater, so she ignored Serena and started hacking through the thick ropes.

“CAREFUL! Don’t cut me!” Serena’s piercing
sea-voice
carried through the water perfectly.

Rona just kept sawing at the ropes, one strand at a time.

“Not THAT careful! You’re not cutting FAST enough. He’s getting away.”

There was a sudden rusty whine, the net jerked upwards, and Rona’s knife slipped. The blade slid into the mermaid’s tail.

“AHHHH! You CUT me! You INJURED me! You’re trying to SABOTAGE my race!”

There was another screeching whine and another short jerk.

Rona was sawing as fast as she could, because that whine meant the winch had started. The net was about to be pulled up into the boat. Soon the mermaid would be hauled out of the water and the fishermen would see her.

Rona couldn’t cut the net fast enough. Serena had thrashed about so much, the ropes were tightly knotted round her tail. As Rona looked at the number of strands she still had to cut, the net jerked again and the mermaid
rose higher. Rona didn’t think she was going to cut her free in time.

Then she felt the water shift to her left and saw the flash of another knife. Now she was cutting the net at one side of the tail, a blue hand was cutting the net at the other side, and the knives were moving towards each other.

There was a louder whine and a jerk which became a gradual upward pull. The net began to rise steadily out of the water. But the blades met in a scrape of silver and the net came apart. The mermaid swam out and all three of them sprinted away.

They surfaced a minute later. Rona took a gulp of air, and handed Tangaroa back his knife. She spun in a circle, looking for the mermaid.

Serena was nowhere to be seen.

“She didn’t even come up to say thank you!” Rona spluttered.

“You’ll wait a long time for sincere thanks from a mermaid,” said Tangaroa. “But I’ll thank you, for making this a much more interesting race than I’d expected. Can we catch her up?”

“Oh yes.” Rona slipped back into her sealskin and grinned, showing all her sharp teeth. “Your knife slipped when I was cutting round her tail, and she’s injured. She won’t be moving as fast as usual. So I’m sure we can catch a fish!”

They both dived, and swam towards the last obstacle. The tidal race.

Rona and Tangaroa caught up with Serena easily. The mermaid was flicking her tail unevenly, a thin line of blood leaking from the scales on her right side.

Rona grimaced, and called to Tangaroa, “I didn’t do it deliberately!”

The dark pair overtook the pale mermaid, and headed for two islands close together by the shore. In the gap between the islands was a vicious tidal race, where fast-moving water battled to get through the narrow, shallow space.

Rona and Tangaroa were no longer swimming side by side to be companionable, they were sprinting as fast as they could. Whenever Rona accelerated, Tangaroa kept pace with her. He had huge amounts of stamina.

Rona felt the pressure and tension of the water increase as the seabed shelved up towards the shoreline.

As they approached the two rocky islands, Rona could see the bright blonde hair of a mermaid judge, keeping well back from the currents.

Rona and Tangaroa both swam upwards to breathe.

The surface of the sea was calm. An oily shiny calm. Not quite flat, but a field of greasy humps, slipping around each other, like snakes under a silk scarf. The lack of waves and spray made the narrows look gentle, but to experienced coastal swimmers like Rona and Tangaroa, it showed the power and turmoil underneath. It would be like swimming through an underwater storm.

“Have you swum through this before?” gasped Tangaroa.

Rona shook her head. “It’s deadly. Take a current wrong and it can knock you unconscious. Lose your bearings and you can swim to the seabed and never come up. But we have to do it.”

“I have to do it. Because I want to win. You don’t have to. Not if you value your life more than being Sea Herald.”

“Don’t you?”

“Being Sea Herald
is
my life, Rona, because it’s my way home. See you on the other side.” He dived down and into the narrows.

Rona knew she had to follow immediately, or he would get too far ahead. She didn’t have much courage left. But she had done the fishing boat. Twice. She could do the tidal race. It was only water, after all.

She took a gulp of air, emptied her lungs and dived.

The view under the surface was just as calm. She couldn’t see the currents or the riptides, not even with a seal’s seagoing eyes. She could feel them though, with her whiskers, her fur, with every part of her sea sense.

The currents were wet ropes of motion, winding round each other, trying to batter each other out of the way, like separate rivers all tied in a knot. Not mixing, not flowing into each other; staying in their own streams. Fighting to get between the islands to the coast first.

Before she’d even flicked her fins to force herself forward, Rona felt a current tug at her back fin.

One stringy little current couldn’t stop her, so she darted ahead. Or tried to. But the other fin was caught too. She couldn’t move forward.

It couldn’t be a current. A current would push or pull you, slip past or batter into you, but it wouldn’t cling on to you. Rona somersaulted in the water to see what was winding round her.

She saw a sea-through, in its boneless underwater form. An almost transparent ball in the water, floating close behind her, thick tentacles wrapped round her rear fins. The biggest sea-through she’d ever seen.

She lashed her fins side to side, but the sea-through allowed itself to be wafted through the water. It didn’t let go. Its soggy weight held her back, keeping her out of the tidal race.

As she twisted round, she saw Tangaroa, upside down in the whirling currents. He was looking back at her.

She smiled in relief. He’d come and save her, use those knives to threaten the sea-through.

The blue loon looked at her, trapped on the edge of the knot of currents, then shrugged, flipped the right way up, and swam off.

Rona growled furiously. Tangaroa had turned back to help a moaning mermaid, but he wouldn’t come back to help her. Winning was too important to him.

Perhaps the blue loon winning was important to this sea-through too. Because if it stopped Rona getting into the narrows,Tangaroa would win the race.

She started to somersault around the sea-through, trying to loosen its stinging grip. It wrapped more tentacles round her back fins, and reached out for her front fins too.

“Let go!” she called through the water. “You have no right to stop me!”

She looked round for the mermaid judge. But she hadn’t swum near enough the tidal race to see Rona on the very edge. If the selkie yelled through the sea for help, she might be disqualified.

So she snarled at the sea-through, “Let go or I’ll bite!”

The sea-through’s voice rumbled from its guts, “I will not let go.”

Despite her threat, she didn’t fancy biting this creature. It would taste horrid, it would sting her mouth, and if
she bit, it might retaliate rather than just holding her back. How else could she get free?

“Let me into the narrows,” she pleaded.

“No. I will keep you here so the sea can get what the sea deserves.”

She pulled forward and the sea-through pulled back.

“Then let’s go to the judge,” Rona said, “and see what she has to say.” Rona somersaulted over the sea-through and pulled the other way, towards the out-of-sight judge.

The sea-through started dragging her towards the tidal race, to stop her getting to the judge. As soon as it was pulling Rona where she really wanted to go, she reversed, using her front fins and all her streamlined weight to push backwards, to force the sea-through and herself into the tidal race.

With both their weight pushing the same way, the entangled pair shot straight into the fighting currents.

They were swept into the middle of the tidal race, with no control over their direction or speed. Rona caught a glimpse of Tangaroa ahead, battered by whips of water. She tried to use her free fins to guide herself that way, but the sea-through was holding tight.

Rona sensed a massive twisting chaos of water below them, so she stopped using her fins to keep her position in the water and dropped like a large blubbery weight, pulling them both into the invisible storm below.

Suddenly it felt like her whiskers were being ripped from her cheeks and her fur from her spine, then the weight of the sea-through really was ripped from her back fins and she was free.

The currents had pulled them apart.

She had lost the sea-through but she had also lost her
bearings, and she was being rushed along in a strong wide stream as if she was a lemonade bubble being sucked up a straw.

She struggled to escape, but she was held as tight inside the current as she had been in the sea-through’s tentacles. She bunched her muscles, and imagined Yann’s legs kicking a door down, Catesby’s wings pushing him into the air, Helen’s arms rowing the boat, and she used everyone’s strength to force herself out of the wide current and into the turmoil around it.

Now her body was being pummelled by lots of smaller currents, which she should be able to force her way through. But she didn’t know where to go. With currents to every side confusing her sea sense, it was hard to know up or down, east or west.

Then she saw the blue loon again. Purple-faced, running out of air. Upside down again and windmilling his arms. She swam past him, flicking her fins.

Then she was caught full in the face by another fast current. It slapped her so hard she was flung to the surface of the sea, and swallowed a mouthful of air and water before she could swim again.

But she managed to glimpse the overland shapes of the islands, and get her bearings at last. By the time she had recovered and was swimming in the right direction, the blue loon had surfaced, and swum off too. Then, like a change in the weather, the water was suddenly calmer. Rona was out of the tidal race.

Tangaroa was in the lead. But Rona wasn’t going to let him win. Not after he had left her in the tentacles of his nasty pink accomplice. She gathered her last few sparks of energy, and chased the blue loon.

But the tidal race hadn’t sapped his ridiculous stamina. He was sprinting for the flags on the shore of Eilan nan MacCodrum, and Rona was exhausted.

She was also furious. She was angry at the
sea-through
who had tried to stop her, at the mermaid who hadn’t even thanked her, at the blue loon who hadn’t come back to help her.

This was what her seal body was for. Shooting through the sea, hunting her prey.

She swam faster than she ever had before.

Without fur or whiskers or a seal’s underwater senses, the blue loon didn’t even know she was catching up. He just kept swimming confidently for the finishing line.

Suddenly, Rona was at his shoulder. She saw the surprise in his eyes. They both found another burst of speed, and raced the waves up the rising seabed to the shore.

“There they are!” Yann yelled.

Helen shoved the bracelet she’d been threading from the remains of her necklace into her pocket and peered over the edge. “I see two heads!”

“Two
dark
heads,” said Lavender. “It must be Rona and Tangaroa! They’ve left Serena behind.”

“It’s too close!” shouted Yann. “It’s going to be a draw.”

Catesby squeaked in excitement.

“One of them is pulling away!” screamed Helen. “But who is it?”

A shiny wet body crashed onto dry land just half a second before a blue hand slapped down.

“
She won!
” the four on the ridge all yelled at various pitches. “Rona won!” They leapt around, whacking each others’ shoulders and wings. Once they’d calmed down, they looked at the shore again.

Rona was lying in the surf, exhausted. The blue loon had pulled himself further out, and was sitting up, but his head was between his knees, and they could see his tattooed back and ribcage heaving for breath.

“Where’s Serena?” asked Helen. “I hope she’s alright.”

“I hope Rona’s alright,” said Lavender. “She hasn’t moved since she hauled out.”

Helen said, “Let’s go and see if she needs us.”

They slithered down the damp grass to the boat, and Helen found it a little easier to row round the island. Her arms were getting stronger.

As they reached the starting rock, a selkie rose out of the water ahead of them. “Halt your vessel, please. The third contestant is coming in slowly.”

They saw Serena’s gleaming head and white arms flap through the last six or seven waves and onto the land. She curled up on a rock and sobbed loudly.

“Bad loser,” muttered Yann.

“Her tail is injured!” yelled a high voice. “Get the healer!”

Helen jerked her hands to the oars, then realised they didn’t mean her. She’d healed her friends’ injuries when they were miles from their own families, but she wouldn’t be needed here. There were lots of adult mermaids, and anyway, she’d only seen her mum treat a few koi carp, never a fish with a tail as large as Serena’s.

The selkie let them pass, so they rowed to the rocks, and jumped out to join Rona. She was now in her girl form, wrapped in a golden sea-velvet blanket, sipping from a green mug.

“Well raced!” called Yann, as he crossed the rocks carefully. “Did you take my advice and leave it right to the end? Let the loon do all the work, then take him by surprise?”

Rona laughed. “Not really. I was in front, then he was in front, then we were neck and neck, then he was in front again, then I got there just in time. Tactically it was bit of a tangle, but it worked in the end.”

“Tangaroa swam a good race too,” said Yann admiringly, “for someone with no fins or tail.”

Rona humphed. “He got a bit of help.”

“What?”

She lowered her voice. “I was attacked by the sea-through.”

Helen said, “Attacked by the sea-through? Really?”

She glared at Yann, who said guiltily, “Are you alright, Rona?”

“I’m alright now, but it tried to stop me getting into the tidal race. I think it attacked me to help Tangaroa. He saw me struggling and didn’t come back and help, even though he helped when Serena was trapped by the fishing net.”

Yann muttered, “That’s cheating! He should be disqualified for accepting outside help!”

Lavender murmured, “So is the sea-through’s plan to help the blue loon?”

Helen said, “Rona, we need to talk to you about …”

But suddenly a blue hand appeared in their circle and patted Rona on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Well swum, selkie.” Tangaroa’s voice was a bit croaky, but he sounded sincere.

“No thanks to you, leaving me to be drowned by that snot monster! You helped a simpering mermaid get free, but abandoned me!”

“What do you mean?”

“You looked back and
saw
me being held on the edge of the tidal race by a sea-through, but you just shrugged and swam away. If winning is more important to you than others’ lives, that’s your decision. But it does seem unfair that you swam back to save
her
but not me.”

Tangaroa looked at the angry faces around Rona. “I’m sorry you think that. I didn’t see anything holding you back. I thought you were hesitating, like you did before the wreck, the flag and the fishing boat. I thought your fear gave me a chance to win, so I took it.”

“But you looked right at the sea-through, when it had its tentacles round my fins.” Rona stretched out her legs to show red weals.

Helen opened her first aid kit.

Tangaroa shook his head. “I’m sorry, Rona, maybe I did look right at it, but sea-throughs are almost transparent. If I looked right at it, I also looked right through it. I didn’t know I was leaving you in danger, really I didn’t.”

Rona frowned. “If you had known, would you have given up the chance to win to help me?”

He bit his blue lip. “I hope so.” He turned his back on them and walked off.

As Helen put the last of her cold packs on Rona’s legs, Yann said, “Do you believe him? Or do you think he was conspiring with the sea-through?”

“I don’t know. He wants to win much more than I do, so perhaps he would ask a sea-through for help.” Rona stared after Tangaroa. “I don’t want to be beaten by a cheat.”

“So are you going to try to win the contest yourself?” asked Yann in excitement.

Rona smiled at him. “I suppose so.”

Helen said, “Then we really need to ask you about …” She was interrupted by a scream.

Rona winced. “That’s Serena. I should see how she is, because her injury is sort of my fault.” She explained to
her friends about the knife cut as they walked towards the group of mermaids.

Serena was lying on the rocks, her head in her arms, wailing at the other mermaids. “But I HAVE to get in the sea! I HAVE to compete!”

The mermaid who’d blown the shell to start the race was dabbing bright green liquid on a long wound in Serena’s tail. She said soothingly, “You know you can’t take a scale-wound into the sea, Serena, in case infection gets in and gives you tail-rot. You’ll have to stay onshore for a week, keep your tail damp with boiled water, and wait for the wound to heal before you swim again. You’ll have to resign from the contest.”

“No!” howled Serena. “NO! I have to swim. I have to WIN!”

Helen sighed. She looked at Rona, pale and tired after her race, but now determined to win the contest.

“Rona,” Helen whispered, “do you mind if I help Serena?”

“Of course not.”

Helen stepped forward, considering how to do this without offending the mermaid healer.

“Is that antiseptic?” she asked quietly.

The healer glanced up. “Yes, human child. I’m cleaning the wound. Please step out of my light.”

“We clean the scales too,” persisted Helen, “before we heal fish.”

“We?” the mermaid asked politely.

“I come from a family of healers. My mother sometimes heals fish.”

“How interesting that humans treat fish as well as eat them. You are still in my light.”

“When she’s treated them, my mother lets the fish straight back into the water. They swim again immediately.”

Serena looked up at Helen with red swollen eyes.

“How irresponsible,” said the healer. “You risk your patients catching water-borne infections.”

“Not if you seal the wound,” said Helen firmly.

“With what? Cloth bandages? They become waterlogged. Or those sticky pink plasters human swimmers wear? They curl up and fall off.”

“We use waterproof sealant to cover the wound, which doesn’t need to be replaced for about a week. By then Serena should be growing a white healing skin, shouldn’t she?”

The mermaid nodded. “You seem to know about tails and scales.”

Helen smiled confidently, though she knew she was acting like Yann, knowing just enough to bluff, pretending more knowledge than she had. She was struggling to remember how her mum had treated a fish hobbyist’s favourite carp, but she seemed to be getting away with it so far.

“Do you carry the sealant in your magic bag?” asked the healer.

“DO you? Oh, PLEASE, do you?” pleaded Serena.

“No, but I think I can use something similar. However, Serena, if I find a different sealant, it won’t be tested or even completely safe. You have to decide if you want to risk it: it might hurt when I apply it; it might not stay on for very long; it might not protect you as well as staying on land until the white membrane grows. But it will give you a chance to compete. It’s up to you.”

“PLEASE try. I MUST compete!”

The healer finished applying the green liquid to the silver scales, and looked at Helen. “It is up to her. But I would like to see this sealant.”

“I’ll have to search for what I need at the campsite,” said Helen. “Do you want to come with me on the boat, Serena, or wait for me to row there and back?”

Suddenly they were surrounded by sea folk offering help, announcing that the human healer shouldn’t tire herself out rowing, that they would push the boat, and that the mermaid would need cushions to keep her comfy on the way over.

So Helen, the fabled beasts and the pampered mermaid sped across Taltomie Bay, propelled by a ring of chattering blue loons, selkies and mermaids.

Carefully arranged on the bench in the bow, Serena asked Helen in a low voice, “Why are you doing this?”

“Why wouldn’t I help?”

“Yesterday you thought I’d DROWNED you.”

“Now I know you didn’t. Sorry about that.”

“TODAY, I’m competing against your friend.”

“Why are you all so keen on being Sea Herald?” asked Helen. “It’s a dangerous job, and you have to do it for the rest of your life.”

“I’ve ALWAYS wanted to do it.”

“Why?”

“Because the deep sea powers have been under the waves longer than anyone else, and if a Sea Herald serves them well, she might be able to find out …”

“What?”

Serena’s tear-stained face twisted angrily. “You didn’t see me on the rocks, as your precious selkie and that
muscle-bound blue loon ran over them like athletes. I probably lost the race then, because even though I can change my tail to legs, when I walk it feels like I’m treading on hot coals. I can’t run, I can only stagger, like a sailor just off a boat. I want legs that WORK. I want to dance, run, climb, and be just as free on land as I am at sea. All mermaids want that.”

“Can the sea powers give you that? Do they grant wishes?”

“No. We were cursed to have pain with every step, and only the one who set the curse can lift it. Merras and Thalas must know where that sea witch is now, and how we can persuade her to lift the ancient curse. If I was Sea Herald, I could ask them.”

Helen looked at Tangaroa, pushing the boat to shore, who wanted to be Sea Herald to find his way home; at Serena, who wanted to be Sea Herald to lift a curse; and at Rona, swimming by her side, who didn’t want to be Sea Herald at all.

As they reached the jetty, Helen leapt out of the boat before it stopped. She asked the willing helpers to carry Serena to the pebble beach, then ran to the racks of bikes between the rows of Scouts’ tents.

She searched the saddlebags of three bikes before she found what she was looking for. As she pulled it out, Lavender landed beside her. “What’s that?”

“A bicycle repair kit.”

“But mermaids aren’t bicycles. How will that repair Serena?”

“I can’t think of anything else on the campsite which will.”

Helen jogged to the gathering on the beach, where she
opened the repair kit and her own rucksack, then started laying equipment out.

There was a growing ring of sea people around her, curious about this human child trying to heal a mermaid. Helen had never done first aid with such a big audience before. Lavender noticed her anxious glances, and darted up to Yann, who used his big voice to order, “Give them space!”

The selkies, blue loons and mermaids dived into the bay and swam back to the island, until it was just Serena, the healer mermaid and the group of friends on the beach.

Helen looked at the green fluid. It was darker now, so she touched a fingertip to the tail to check it was dry. “I’m going to try the sealant. Let me know if it hurts. But please stay still. Do you want someone to hold your hand?”

“No, I’m going to be BRAVE. Sea Heralds have to be brave and ruthless, don’t they, selkie?”

“Ruthless?” asked Helen vaguely, as she took a tube of tyre glue out of the repair kit.

Lavender shot over. “Glue!” she whispered. “You’re going to glue her together?”

“Yes.”

“That’s … original. What if the glue’s not waterproof?”

“If it’s not waterproof it won’t be much use for fixing bikes on Scottish roads, will it?”

Helen examined the wound. The cut was deep into the flesh, but not ragged, and only a couple of scales were missing. “I’m going to straighten your tail, protect the wound with the scales, then put the gl— the sealant over the scales. It should keep the water out and be
flexible enough for you to flick your tail. Shall I go ahead?”

“Yes PLEASE, human child.”

As Helen adjusted the tail and scales, Serena shrieked, “OW! That’s sore! You didn’t say it would be PAINFUL!”

“Actually she did say it might hurt,” pointed out Yann.

“But it’s REALLY SORE! You’re hurting me deliberately, just like your selkie friend CUT me deliberately.”

“I did not!” objected Rona.

“The wound isn’t sealed yet,” Helen said calmly, “but I’ll stop if you want.”

“NO! But be more gentle.”

Helen squirted glue onto the smooth scales.

“OW! That stings!”

“Just be brave,” Yann muttered from behind Helen.

“BRAVE! It’s easy for YOU to say brave. She isn’t sticking your tail together! OW!”

Serena kept moaning and demanding to know if Helen was finished, as Helen worked her way down the scales.

At last Helen said, “There. I’m finished. Please sit still until it dries. You should be able to swim back to the island in fifteen minutes or so.”

“It’s still sore, you know. I’m still having to be brave not to cry.”