Sea God's Siren (The Brother's Keep) (3 page)

Chapter 6

The Plunge

Over breakfast the next morning, the girls gloated over having snuck out of the house at night without getting caught. When the mother momentarily left the room, Steffi asked, “What were you doing last night when you were leaning from the pier?”

Syrena set her buttered crispit down. “I touched his hand.”

“You did? He was there?”

She nodded at her younger sibling. “And he touched my soul,” she said in a most quiet manner.

“Oh, what are you going to do, Syrena? You can’t marry him.”

“I can’t?” The thrill of the possibility she had entertained dampened some.

“What, and live in the ocean?” Gwyn cackled, much like their mother.

Steffi sighed with longing unusual for her. “It’s just so romantic. Maybe it’s true, that they have soul mates. If that’s so and you’re his, Syrena, it doesn’t matter how it plays out. You and he will be together eventually. Do you think he could live on land? He did have legs you know—”

“Among other fine attributes,” Gwyn declared with mischief.

Syrena mulled this over. Hope such as she’d ever known filled her bosom. Her heart beat louder and harder when she thought of him. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “There’s so much about him that remains a mystery. Unless I talk to him.” She released a shaky breath. “Oh, I do so want to speak with him again, to see him as you did—”

“I’m not sure you can handle him, sis. It’ll take someone with more . . . ehem . . .
experience
, I’m predicting.”

Syrena snapped her napkin at Gwyn. “You have such an impish mind,” she retorted, resentful for her sister stealing magic from the moment.

“Don’t you want to be naughty, to see what it’s like.” She wriggled her brows, causing Steffi to bow her head. “
Being
with a man?
Intimately
?”

Syrena paused. “Well, the truth is . . .” She glanced upward, trying to envision Dagon’s eyes and the world he possessed behind them. “Yes.”

Steffi gasped.

“Not in the naughty way that you’re suggesting, although intimate still. I want to know him, because he already touches a part of me no man has ever touched.”

Even Gwyn sat in silence. Their mother approached, delegating chores for the day. After a series of groans and sighs, Gwyn tugged on Syrena’s arm and whispered in her ear, “We’ll take you to the water’s edge today. To talk to him, Dagon.” She nodded.

Syrena’s heart buoyed at the chance to see him again. “What about the new rules . . .
punishment
as you’ve called it?”

“Nobody has to know. Right, Steffi?”

She shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone. Besides, I’m curious about this Lodian. Maybe he has a brother.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes. “You’re becoming more like Syrena everyday. Besides, if the legend is true, then he’s the only one. Sorry. You’ll just have to marry Helferd Corby when you grow up.”

“Helford Corby!”

Syrena laughed at Steffi’s sudden outburst, feeling very giddy.

“And just what do you mean when-I-grow-up?” Steffi’s hands balled at her sides.

“What’s this now?” Their mother glared at them as their whispers had grown to outright carrying on.

“Nothing, Mum.”

All three girls straightened up as the older woman scrutinized their faces.

“There’s a lot of work to be done,” the mother said. “Be off then.”

The sisters curtsied and scooted away. After washing and hanging laundry, churning more butter, and weeding the garden, the girls ran down to the boat docks to untangle their dad’s nets. About to work on another one, Gwyn smacked Syrena on the arm. “Father’s leaving. Let’s go,” she said under her breath. All the while, Syrena held hers.

Dagon saw them jogging to the end of the pier where he stood the night before exploring his love’s stormy world. He cringed when he saw Syrena fall on the dock once, cursing himself for the loss of her sight. Still, as if no big unusual thing, his beautiful siren got up and marched forward.

As he lingered in the water amidst an outcrop, Dagon took care to stay hidden from the other two’s eyes. If his mother, the sea witch, knew they had glanced upon him, she’d curse them with blindness, too. His anger boiled the older he got, the more confined he felt by her hands. How dare she keep him, a man, from the woman he was meant to love?

He assumed, while watching the girls loiter, that they expected him to pop out. Syrena anticipated the most, he could tell by her wide seeking eyes, her toothy smile. If only he could separate Syrena from the other two, for the chance to talk once more . . . to touch, perhaps?

The older, bigger one shouted his name as if conjuring up his very own father—the evil from the depths, the sea serpent. What a mistake that would be! If she even could that is. And Dagon knew very well nothing made that snake move except the all-out willingness to sell oneself to him. No, these girls had proper ethics. Well, the older one was a bit challenged, but she’d not compare to anything like his mother, the sea witch.

Just as Dagon was getting further lost in his wayward thoughts, he heard a splash and one of the sisters call Syrena’s name. He glanced at the pier. Only two girls stood on it. They appeared frightened, staring down into a ring in the water that rippled outward.

Syrena! She’d jumped in!

Dagon pushed out and dove deep. In an instant, he had her in his arms. He pressed his mouth against her soft lips, gave her air to breathe, and then swam them away from the pier and the jetty, somewhere private, where they could just be together.

With her arms wrapped around his neck, her body straddling his backside, Dagon took Syrena to the other side of the cape, to the Shallow Sea.

Chapter 7

Shallow Sea

The gentle lapping water tickled Syrena while the sun kissed her cheek.

“Oh, but I want to see you, Dagon. Why are you taking me to shore?”

He began weaving seaweed in her hair again. With great tenderness, he swept strands back from her face. “This is the Shallow Sea. I thought we both could abide here for a spell, yet each retain a certain amount of comfort. As you can tell, there’s no surf. You can wade easily in the water by sitting as you are and breathing your air, but if you wish to see me only recline on your back to submerge in the shallow marine. I’ll be right beside you. And me, well, I can remain moistened, which I need, and do as you do, only for opposite reasons.”

She could hear the smile in his voice.

“We are opposites.” He sighed.

“Our worlds, but not our hearts.”

“Nor souls.”

Syrena lay back sooner than either of them anticipated so she could admire Dagon, to smile and watch as he smiled back.

She rose for air and he followed.

“We have privacy,” he said. “You see, man doesn’t come here because it’s too shallow for watercraft . . . and too stagnant to sustain life.”

“Is that why it smells so dreadful?”

Dagon chuckled. “Yes. Sorry about that.”

“So then, it’s foul water that folds around my limbs?”

“Indeed.” He bowed his head. “We can try to find another place. It’s just, well, daylight. I can’t risk being seen.”

“No.” Syrena giggled. “Any place that allows us to be together like this is a palace to me.”

Dagon cupped the back of her head, bringing her close, and kissed her.

The salty tang tasted repulsive at first and Syrena retracted, but then she fell into him, wrapping her fingers in his hair, twisting and pulling.

His voice came out hoarse. “I’m happy you plunged from that pier into the water. I waited for you nearby in the rocks.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“What are we going to do? I need to be with you, but I don’t know how.”

“We can meet like this, can’t we, every day?”

Dagon wove his fingers through hers. “We can try. But we do run a great risk.”

“How so if man never comes here?”

“Do you forget how intensely your loved ones look after you?”

Syrena bowed her head.

“I don’t blame them.” He snorted. “Then there are those from my side who would try to destroy you, and to keep us apart.”

“Your mother?” Syrena asked with timidity.

Dagon cocked his head. “You know of the sea witch?”

Syrena let go of his hands and brought her knees up to her chin. “I’ve only heard a bit of legend.” She rested her head against her knees. Dagon studied her every feature. “Is it true she keeps you in her hold, disallowing you from seeking your soul mate?”

“I’ve found my soul mate!” He squared her shoulders. “I’ve always known . . . from the first I saw you. But you don’t remember, do you?”

With her palms pressed against his bare chest, she felt the heavy thumping of his heart. She said, “I was told I fell in the ocean and disappeared. When I resurfaced, I was fine . . . only . . .
blind
.” Her hands slid up over his shoulders. “I’m sorry I don’t remember, yet I feel as if I’ve known you all along. My spirit quickens when I’m with you.” Syrena didn’t see how Dagon glanced away, how the tendons in his jaw flexed as if he chewed on something of great weight.

“Forgive me,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“Please, just forgive me.” Dagon pulled her into the water and a mere few minutes later, delivered her to her native shore.

He barely said goodbye, though Syrena stood waving as the tide lapped her toes until it receded like the sun.

Chapter 8

Interruption

“You are not to leave this house!” her mother reprimanded, for the fiftieth time in twenty hours.

Her sisters, long at their chores down at the boat docks assisting their father, Syrena was no longer allowed to go near the water’s edge. With every second, she thought of Dagon. Fear of never seeing him took root.

“You’re not to even glance in the direction of the sea. Do you hear me?” This time, her mother’s voice quavered. “Syrena, what am I to do with you?” She sat with a weighty thud onto the wooden stool in the kitchen. “I-I worry so much about you. I fear I’ll lose you—that you’ll lose your way—that you won’t survive in this life,” she bellowed.

“Mum. I certainly won’t survive if you keep me prisoner. What kind of happiness can I possess if I can never leave these four walls? If I can’t discover the world around me?” She searched in the direction of her mother’s uneven breathing. “I’m too old to be grounded.”

The older woman shuddered with a heavy sigh. Then she emitted a loud, final sniff. “I don’t care what you want.” The stool screeched back as she stood. “As long as you live in this house under my authority, you will do as I say.”

Syrena started to object, but her mother cut her off.

“Start preparing the evening meal. I’ll return promptly.”

“For how long then am I grounded?” Her mother couldn’t possibly mean forever.

“Oh what does it matter? Nobody will marry you!” The mother left, plodding on wavering legs.

Her stinging comment singed a deep trench in Syrena’s heart. Her own mother, how could she say such things? Yet, Syrena knew her mother spoke out of fear and her usual maternal anxiety, that to which she and her sisters got well acquainted with over the years.

Still . . .

According to Gwyn, plenty of boys ogled her as they mingled in the village. But did that mean one of them would marry her? They’d have to take on the challenge of her disability. Then there existed the matter of her heart and soul. She loved somebody else . . . somebody strange and ethereal. Somebody from another realm, one in which she couldn’t survive.

Soul mates
.

How, when they are so far from one another in rhyme or reason?

And now, in her special way, her mother has forbidden Syrena from seeing Dagon, perhaps much like Dagon’s mother did with him. Syrena felt sick with grief. Their love was doomed and always had been. Part of her wanted to obtain a sense of peace, marry a local boy, and carry on with life as expected. A greater part of her wanted to leave everything and join Dagon. Syrena laughed. Even if she chose the latter, she couldn’t exist in the ocean. She wasn’t a mermaid. Her laughter turned to hysteria and she sank to the floor, weeping.

Why did she feel so empty without him? She realized she’d possessed that emptiness her entire life. But when she saw Dagon, he filled that void only he could . . . as if they truly were made for each other.

Lying alone on her bed one evening, Syrena stared toward the area where she knew was the window. All remained dark in her blindness as usual, except she saw a faint flicker of something. She blinked several times.

Steffi came in and sat softly next to Syrena.

“What is that light? Do you see it?” She pointed.

“That’s what our sailors call the Bright and Morning Star. Syrena, can
you
see it?”

“I think I can.” Her voice filled with wonder. “It’s faint, though.”

“They say some worship it, that it’s especially beautiful from upon the sea, way out yonder. The star guides those who seek it, even helps navigate through storms I’ve been told.”

Syrena could hear Steffi smile. Her sister’s presence managed to warm her heart that had grown so cold of late.

“And it indicates to us that it’s always morning somewhere else,” her sister said dreamily.

“You sound so grown up, Steffi.” Syrena grinned and patted her younger sister’s hand.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh?” Syrena sat up, concerned by the sudden change in Steffi’s voice.

The adolescent girl cleared her throat. “I considered not telling you, but I gave my word. Really,” her tone elevated, “it’s all so strange that I don’t know what to believe.”

“Steffi.” Syrena tried to calm her. “What is it that you have to say?” She waited. “Please.”

Syrena could tell the girl struggled. “He wanted to give you a message.”

“He?
Who
he?” she asked. Her heart thumped harder.

“Dagon.”

Syrena folded forward onto her knees. “You saw him? He spoke to you?”

Steffi nodded, forgetting that Syrena couldn’t see that form of reply. “Oh, Syrena, I fear I’ll lose you forever if I share what message it is he gives.”

“You sound like Mum.” Impatience niggled.

“Yes, because we love you the same don’t you know?”

“I do, but I beg you, please,
please
, tell me what message my love has given?”

“His mother knows that he’s spent time with you. He, like you, has been made prisoner in his own home. Dagon risked his life to see you, only you haven’t been to the shore. He was desperate. That’s why he finally spoke to me.”

“And Gwyn?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Why does Dagon make so great a risk?”

“He can’t stay away, for you’re his other half. He’s sick, he says, growing weak with unfulfilled love.” Steffi started crying. “It’s all so awful. So”—she sniffed—“impossibly beautiful. Dagon entreats you to come away with him. First, he wants to return to you what was yours—your sight—and he wants to be with you, even if he dies trying to make it work.”

Syrena fingered her lips, moaning. “You know I’m suffocating in here. I cannot find happiness. I need to go to him.”

Steffi nodded again. “I know. Somehow, I’ve always known one day you’d depart and I’d never see you again.” She buried her face in Syrena’s shoulder.

“If I can, if it’s within my means, I’ll visit . . . as often as I’m able.” Syrena threw her arms around Steffi. “Thank you, my dear sister.” Syrena rocked her, squeezing tightly.

“Syrena?”

“Yes?”

“What if you die?”

“Then I shall die happily in my love’s arms.”