The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate (8 page)

Touch me, please.

"Raef?" Kemp cupped his face, grasping a candle in a holder, which set him squinting. After placing down the lamp, Kemp pressed the back of his hand to Raef's brow. "Sweet Jesus, lad, you must've caught a chill in the sea. You're running a fever."

"N-no. I need… the s-sea. Is it d-dawn yet?" Raef's words came out as feeble mumblings. He was so desperate he'd have confessed all, shouted to the heavens he was a merman, if he'd thought it would get him back into the ocean at the right moment. Kemp didn't seem to understand, or at least chose not to. Kemp released him from the chains, then lifted him over one shoulder and carried him back to the captain's cabin.

"Blimey," said Kemp as he ducked under the lintel. "It feels like you've lost half your body weight in just hours."

Raef could well believe it.
So this is how it ends. I'm fading away. I'm evaporating. Soon, I'll be reduced to a dry husk of bones, skin… nothingness.

Kemp laid him down upon the bunk, its thin mattress a luxury after the cramped and comfortless cell. "I should never have left you there," he muttered, seemingly talking to himself as much as Raef, which Raef found frustrating. Raef wasn't mad and neither was he a child, but he'd been reduced to less than either in Kemp's eyes. How pathetic.

"I'm sorry," continued Kemp, drawing a blanket about him. "But it seemed the safest place for you."

Raef tried to speak, but ended up sighing and closing his eyes. He'd stopped shivering, and a frightening stillness drenched his body
.
He labored to drag air into his chest.

 "It's all right," said Kemp, smoothing Raef's forehead. "I've had sick fellows in a worse state than you aboard this ship. You'll pull through."

Raef wanted to scream,
You know nothing.
He still couldn't help but glean succor from Kemp's caresses. He didn't want Kemp to stop. Hell, if Kemp did so, he feared he'd die there and then. When the touch was withdrawn, he moaned, desolate. But his heart beat on, and Kemp slipped one of those strong hands beneath his head, lifting it. With an effort, he fluttered his eyes open.

"Here," said Kemp, raising him higher. "Drink."

Kemp held a goblet, pressing it toward him. He worried that if it contained that Jamaican liquor from earlier, he'd be embarrassingly sick or the muck would finish him off. He'd no energy to protest, and when the rim of the cup touched his parched lips, he parted them and sipped. The substance turned out to be a curious mixture of bitter and sweet, dry and fruity all at once. It coated his throat like honey and made him feel a bit better, so he drank more. He'd been too unwell to notice before, but he was desperately thirsty.

"Good lad," said Kemp, and at last Raef managed to focus on his face. Kemp leaned over him, hair mussed and less sleek than usual, and his bronzed face paler. The lines at the edges of Kemp's eyes had deepened with worry. Raef guessed he was maybe thirty years of age, but he looked older, craggier… and more beautiful than ever.

Kemp cared about him. Kemp might be a brute who believed him insane, but he cared if Raef lived or died. The notion cheered him, though yet again, it confused him also. Why should a pirate give a damn, especially one who kept locking him away? Whatever medicine or magic Kemp had prompted him to sup, Raef felt its healing power course through him. He managed to curve his mouth into a smile. "Th-thank you."

"It's an elixir the old captain of this ship used to make." Kemp hooked a strand of hair behind his ear and smiled back. "Port wine mixed with herbs from land and sea."

The latter probably explained the concoction's success. Merfolk used many medicinal plants and were learned in all that could be reaped from the ocean. However, though a weed might temporarily lessen Raef's suffering, he doubted it would stop his decline for more than a short while. He wanted to enjoy Kemp's ministrations and then sleep a full day, but if he did, he feared he might never awake.

"How long is dawn?" he asked.

Kemp furrowed his brow, stroking Raef's cheek. "About an hour, I should say."

Hope sparked. Raef wasn't chained any more. He could escape. An hour seemed like an eternity under fear of imminent death, but he could make it to sunrise. He
must
make it, and now he felt a bit better, his curiosity kicked back. Last night, Kemp had spoken of a woman called Cecilia, who he intended to visit in pursuit of a treasure map. Kemp had said Raef could go free once he'd seen her, and Raef wondered if Haverford's ring was bound for her, as a gift. This could be useful information, especially as stealing the jewel from Kemp now seemed an unlikely prospect.

"Cecilia," he murmured. "Who is she?"

Kemp leaned back and withdrew his touch, which had Raef regretting his enquiry. "Ah, now that
is
a question. I first encountered Cecilia about three months past, the first time we made port near Lilhaven. 'Twas fate. She was fighting off a hooded man bent on murder with her bare fists and a pot of acid poison. Now there's a hearty wench, I thought."

"Heavens! Who was trying to kill her?"

"Another potent question," replied Kemp. "It wasn't only Cecilia who'd been set upon. That night, a gang of hooded horsemen set upon the town, carrying flaming torches and seeking out young women. One was badly injured, another snatched and never seen again. We chanced to arrive in time to help Cecilia, not that she wasn't doing plummy without us. She's a swan with a sharp peck."

"Who were the attackers?" asked Raef. This behavior sounded like that of pirates, though now he'd met Kemp, none of his assumptions seemed to fit.

"Ah, that's something only Cecilia could tell me, and I don't think
you
want to know." Kemp tapped his nose. "You should try and get some sleep."

Raef bit back his frustration, reminding himself this story was unimportant. He ought to have no desire to hear more of this Cecilia, who fascinated Kemp so. He also fought an urge to beg Kemp to lie down beside him, to spoon that sturdy body about his. If he commanded Kemp's attention too long, he'd never get a chance to escape, so he remained silent as Kemp tucked a second warm blanket over him. Then Kemp slung the ends of a hammock over a beam, secured the ropes, and vaulted into the makeshift bed.

Raef exhaled slowly, and prayed Kemp might sleep or at least topple off his guard. Though he daren't try for the ruby ring again, Kemp had replaced Haverford's bejeweled dagger on the table. If he could grab that and shift like quicksilver, he'd still have a gift to deliver to his lord.

He watched, pulse lurching and fitful, as the first gray hints of dawn seeped through the porthole. He had to time his escape perfectly. If he was to dive in the sea prematurely again, he'd drown in his human body, or Kemp would fish him out more stricken than ever. The boat tilted and lurched on roughening waves, and from Kemp's bunk wafted the sound of heavy, but contented, breathing.

Soon, almost too soon, an orange sheen licked the rim of the porthole. Time to go. Summoning his last iota of strength, Raef tossed off the blankets and launched up. He grabbed the knife, willed himself not to collapse, and burst out onto deck.

He heard a thud, as Kemp jumped from the hammock. "Raef. No!"

Raef was already at the rail, then sitting on it, naked, with his legs swinging free and the knife clamped in his fist. He squinted back toward the sun, which showed nearly a quarter of its face already. Had he left it too late? The waves splashed against the side of the boat, metallic in hue and uninviting. He had to leave Kemp, despite all those baffling feelings Raef was developing for him. Leave Kemp … or perish.

Raef hurled himself forward the same instant Kemp grabbed for him. Kemp's fingertips brushed his shoulder, but he flew free, downward, into an abyss that surged up to engulf him.

The dark surface closed above his head. Raef floundered, limbs thrashing weakly.
Shift, please shift.
He urged the magic to fill him, but his lungs grew tight, his mind a haze … and then the pain hit. The sweet burn of release swept through him. A sublime agony shocked to his core, then came the fiery stabbing as his legs fused together. Behind his ears, his gills split open. They drew in the only elixir he truly needed—that unknown magic in the waters that sustained all creatures beneath the waves. Strength exploded inside him. Life swelled. Raef swished his powerful tail and pulled for the surface, bursting through to drink of the salt-spiced air, a luxury on which he no longer need rely. He tossed up his chin and laughed, then clamped the knife between his teeth—thank the gods he'd not dropped it—so he could run his fingers through his sodden tresses.

He was back, a merman, and never had he felt mightier.

A quick glance back toward the
Alice O'Shanty
, now fifteen yards afar, diluted his joy. A bedraggled figure climbed up a rope dangled down the ship's side. Kemp. He had dived in after him again. George and Peffy leaned over the railings, reeling Kemp in. When they'd gathered him over, all three drooped like broken reeds. They believed Raef had drowned.

Raef kept low among the crests and hissed, torn. He discovered he didn't like to think of them being sad, their humor tempered. Yet why would they mourn him? However stunning Kemp's kiss had been, however gentle his touch, Raef had been his captive. If he revealed his true form, Kemp would most likely want to net him and clap him in irons yet again. Although the ship would never catch him, he would not bless Kemp with the opportunity for a chase.

Raef swam due east, toward the now fully-fledged sun, chasing the white horses as he plowed against the currents. How he'd missed this vigorous body, his sinewy tail. He wanted to race with the eels and leap and dive with the dolphins, though he'd no time to frolic. He'd a long journey ahead and must feed and rest, too. For tonight, he would become human again, and at last, reveal himself to Lord Haverford.

"I suppose I must find clothes," muttered Raef to himself at dusk. In human form, he trotted up the shingle, toes wriggling as the sharper stones bit his soles.

He'd spent the last few hours waiting, but Haverford had not come to his cave. Raef couldn't blame him, after that terrifying encounter with Kemp. Nonetheless, Raef hadn't the patience to wait 'til the morrow. His close encounter with death had made him bold. Now he'd placed some distance between himself and Kemp, he'd renewed his dislike for kluggites. The emotion was somewhat short of the loathing he sought, but it fired his need to see Haverford. Once Raef laid eyes on Haverford again, he'd think of Kemp no more.

Raef picked his way up the side of beach, keeping as far as he could from the cluster of fishermen's cottages. One of the boats was still out, and he discerned the silhouette of a bonneted woman at the window, watching and waiting for her husband to return. He felt sorry for her, understanding how longing ailed one. But tonight, maybe his wait would be over. Despite the jagged shingle, he upped his pace. Savoring the feel of Haverford's knife handle in his palm, he hardly cared if his feet were cut and bled.

The steps up from the beach were nothing more than a few pieces of flat stone jutting out from a wall, and they were slippery with slime. Raef negotiated them with care, and found himself at the start of the path up to the castle. Light blazed in the large windows, and smoke spiraled upward in dark plumes from the chimneys behind the crenellations. A flag flew from the highest turret, twitching in the breeze. The same wind lashed his damp skin, making him shudder. Clothes became imperative, though he daren't take anything from the fishermen's dwellings with that fishwife on watch.

He started up the track, entranced by the vast complex before him. As he got closer, he spotted many smaller buildings surrounding the castle that he'd never noticed from the sea. The path soon widened, joining up with a driveway that wound down from the north. He had to tread carefully to avoid the grooves left by the wheels of carts. A small flock of those white fluffy animals blocked his way up ahead, worrying him. Would they bite? It seemed not. As he grew close, they bleated, then scattered like herring would. The driveway took him over a ditch and then through an unmanned gateway, flagged with posts topped by sculptures of roaring dragons.

He was almost at the castle, as far as he'd ever been from the shore. Too near this human dwelling place for comfort, although his curiosity flared. A crow cawed and flapped overhead, and Raef hurried from the path to edge along the side of an orchard. A man and woman were standing out on the castle's veranda, and more shadowy figures could be seen through the windows, moving as if dancing. There was music too, soaring strains from instruments quite alien to his ears. The tingle of laughter was familiar enough, and he battled a jolt of envy. Haverford had company in his house tonight, plenty of it. Would he ever get a chance to see his lord alone?

Raef tiptoed between fragrant herbs and sleeping flowers 'til he reached the first of the outbuildings—a large suite of rooms that stretched around three sides of a square, fronted by an archway topped with a tower. Though unlit, save a lantern at one window, Raef discerned snorts and scuffles. He spotted a long-nosed beast swaying its head through the gap above a half-door.