The Little Selkie (retail) (3 page)

The sea witch and her human henchman would force Dylan to use her powers for them. She would be their
tool
.

“What do I do?” Dylan whispered, her lips numb. They had all the power, and she had none.
I am like a sea lion caught by a shark. If I fight back or run, they’ll ruin my pelt, and I will never be a sea lion again. If I do what they order, I will aid the sea witch’s pursuit of death and destruction!

Dylan fell to her knees, hope and despair hitting her body like a typhoon. “I am ruined,” she whispered.

A strange light passed in front of her face, and a musical voice said, “Strange, I didn’t think I would find someone who looks even worse for the wear than I do. What is wrong, selkie lass? Why are you out of the sea and away from your colony?”

The feminine voice sounded like hope and magic, so Dylan rallied the strength to lift her gaze. In front of her was a large…animal. She supposed it resembled something equine, but its mane and tail were made of black and blue flames, and its body was black like night and spotted with starlight. Perched on its back was a woman she thought beautiful and exquisite. She looked just a few years older than Dylan’s almost eighteen years, but every inch of her was gorgeous enough to banish the darkness laying claim to Dylan’s soul.

The beautiful woman wore a dress, ocean blue and glittering in the dim light of the forest. As Dylan watched, it changed into a blue-green color.

“You’re a magic user,” Dylan whispered. Relief crashed over her like a tidal wave. Good magic users—from mages-in-training to fairy godmothers—could be trusted, and consulted for advice. Even Dylan, a selkie, knew this.

The woman smiled as she dismounted. “I am an enchantress-in-training. My name is Angelique. Can I help you?”

Tears welled up in Dylan’s eyes, and she told her story and explained her identity. She told the Lady Enchantress about the sea witch, how she had long evaded the selkies’ traps through sheer conniving or dumb luck as humans had ruined their ranks and traps on several different occasions. And she told her about nearly catching her…and being caught in return.

“I am ruined, Lady Enchantress,” Dylan said, squatting in front of a tree, wishing it were a rock that overlooked the ocean.

“Couldn’t you return to your people and tell them what happened? Surely they would storm the camp,” Angelique said.

“Yes, and my pelt would be destroyed in retribution. Although perhaps I have earned it for my careless actions,” Dylan said, her voice dry and scratchy. “It seems it is the only course available to me, for I cannot remain near my pelt. They’ll use my voice. Unless…” Dylan said, leaning forward, her eyes regaining some of their brightness.

“Yes?” Angelique prodded, patting the neck of her impatient steed before sitting on a log across from Dylan.

“Could you…
take
my voice?”

Angelique blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Could you separate my voice from my body and take it?”

“No, definitely not. It doesn’t work like that.”

“Oh,” Dylan dropped.

“But…” Angelique sighed, “…I could seal your voice.”

“Seal it?”

“Lock it up, essentially. Make it so you are unable to utter a noise.”

“Yes! Oh, please,” Dylan said, sliding forward on her knees. “I’ll pay any price, just please, silence me!”

“Are you sure it is the wisest course of action?” Angelique said. “Shouldn’t you tell your kinsmen first?”

“This is my mistake and I know I can make it right—as long as I am swift. If my voice is gone, I will be as useful as a rock to the sea witch and can wait for her and her minions to lower their guard. When they do, I will take back what is mine,” Dylan promised. “And
then
I will tell my clan. And tell them that the sea witch has human allies,” she frowned.

Angelique pressed her perfect lips together. “I don’t think it is wise to do this alone.”

“I don’t need help. Besides you locking up my voice, I mean.”

“Sealing it.”

“Yes, that.”

“Are you certain? Making a decision that will have an immense consequence on all of your kinsmen without their knowledge seems unfair,” Angelique said.

For a moment uncertainty clawed at Dylan.
She’s right. Selkies will be put in danger if I fail, but this is
my
mistake! But perhaps…no. I can’t afford the time.

“This is the only way,” Dylan said with a false bravado.

Angelique sighed. “As you wish—although I will not pretend to agree with your methods. I would like to help you more, but I am needed in Sole. I can seal your voice, but I haven’t much time to do anything beyond that. I’m sorry.”

Dylan shook her head. “If you seal my voice, you will have done more than I could ever repay you for, Lady Enchantress. I am strong. I can handle this alone.”

Angelique gave Dylan a look she didn’t understand. “It has been my experience that when we believe we are capable of handling it ourselves, it becomes a situation that is so very much bigger than we are. I will seal your voice, though I hope you won’t regret it.”

“I would much rather be able to swim as a sea lion in the ocean than sing,” Dylan assured her.

“Oh, I won’t seal your voice forever.”

“What?”

“I can work a counter spell into it, so your voice will return to you when you fulfill the requirements,” Angelique said.

“Oh. What will the requirements be?” Dylan asked.

“True love’s first kiss.”

Dylan blinked. “
What
?”

Angelique smiled at Dylan, although it seemed a little brittle. “I apologize, but it is the most powerful counter spell I know. In something as powerful as this, love is the only key I can use.”

Dylan shrugged. “As you say.”

“You agree so swiftly?”

“It is my mess. Getting my voice back is more than I deserve,” Dylan shrugged. “Someday I’ll find someone to break the curse. The bigger threat is that sea witch.”

Angelique stared at Dylan for a moment. “You are…unusual.”

“My father says that all the time. I think it is merely that most folk don’t know how to take responsibility for themselves,” Dylan scoffed.

Angelique smiled weakly. “There’s a difference between being responsible and being brash.”

“So I have heard. Is there anything I must do for you to seal my voice? Do you need ingredients?” Dylan asked.

“No,” Angelique said. “It’s an easy enough spell. It is the results that are potent and dangerous. Are you certain you do not wish to tell your family?”

“Yes. Please, seal my voice, Lady Enchantress.”

The Lady Enchantress stood and cleared her throat. When she looked at Dylan, Dylan was pushed back on her heels by the heavy magic in the enchantress’s gaze.

“Dylan, daughter of King Murron and Queen Gwenllian, guardians of the seas, I bind your voice and seal it from now until the day that a kiss of true love touches your lips. You shall not speak; you shall not sing. You will be
silent.
” As Angelique spoke, light laced with ribbons of pale blue and green streaked around Dylan like falling stars. The light closed in on her neck, encircling it like a necklace. There was no pain, but Dylan felt pressure in her throat. The magic warmed her neck as it soaked into her skin, making her glow for a few moments. There was the sound of a great door closing, and the magic was gone.

“I will carry your message of the sea witch to other mages and magic users,” Angelique said, gathering up her mount’s reins, as if she hadn’t just done something extraordinary.

Was that all it took? My voice can’t be gone with that little magic
, Dylan thought.

“And if I hear no news from Ringsted by next spring, I will return and see if I cannot help you. Don’t worry; if you reclaim your pelt but not your voice, I have associates who can break off my magic,” Angelique said, giving Dylan a reassuring smile. It dimmed as she seemed to think of something else, but the beautiful enchantress brushed it off and remounted her steed. “You are certain you will be alright?” she asked.

Dylan opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She brightened, offering the Lady Enchantress a big smile. Then she remembered Muriel’s lessons in manners and bent over in a deep bow.

“Take care, Dylan of the selkies,” Angelique said, turning her horse and kneeing it forward. The enchantress and her mount were off—riding through the forest faster than should be possible. Light trailed after them like the tail of a comet.

Dylan watched until the light faded before she turned around and headed in the direction of the camp of men. In the end, she had to follow her nose back, using the scent of the campfire.

She approached the camp, moving around the edges. Men sifted through the wreckage caused by Dylan’s panic. They had already repaired one of the tents and refilled their buckets and containers of water.

She started to step into the camp but a man caught sight of her. “ ’ere she is! Get ’er!”

The camp exploded into chaos. Some slammed boards over water barrels and sat on them, hoping to keep the water trapped if she sang again. Some men fled rather than face her, and others grabbed weapons.

Two men lunged for her. Dylan crouched, hoping to dodge, but something hit her from behind and sent her pitching face forward into the ground.

I need to remember to look behind me
, she thought with great irritation as darkness welled up around her, reclaiming her for the second time that day.

Chapter 3

Voiceless

Dylan tried to groan when she started to regain consciousness, but no noise could be uttered. As pain throbbed in her skull, she remembered the day’s events and unsuccessfully tried to groan again.

“You swear the threat of the pelt will hold her in line?” a male voice asked.

Did they hit me with a walrus tusk? Crusty barnacles, ow
. She scrunched her eyes shut even tighter in an expression of pain.

When she heard a watery voice speak, her heart stopped.

“The selkies treasure their seal forms as they treasure their own lives. The girl will mind you—her return promises as much,” the female voice said. It was a voice that sounded like water—but not like the roaring ocean bass of Dylan’s father or the soothing brook soprano that belonged to her mother. This woman’s voice sounded flat and stale, like marsh water that hadn’t drained in a century.

“You’ll use her?”

“Of course. She’ll never turn against her people, but there are other possibilities,” the watery voice said. “The humans, of course. And she will make it easier to capture sea life for my sacrifices.”

“How?”

“Marine creatures will flock to her. The shed blood will bring immense power,” the woman said, the marsh quality of her voice suffocating Dylan as if she had fallen in a bog.

Dylan opened her eyes and was pleased to learn the woman—the sea witch—was within eyesight.

Dylan was splayed out on the ground, a pile of rope mounded next to her. They probably meant to tie her up before she awoke and miscalculated her return to consciousness. Dylan wanted to smile, but instead she forced herself to remain still and watched.

“You ought to be more careful about where you butcher things,” the sea witch’s companion said. “Someone found the last killer whale you drained and reported it to the king and queen.”

“I do not fear your
royalty
,” the sea witch said, her voice scornful as she walked across the camp.

“Maybe you don’t, but they can make my life deuced difficult,” the man said.

Now that she was closer, Dylan could see the sea witch’s hair was dark, and one side of her head was shaved. Snail shells and tiny fish skeletons woven into her hair clicked when she moved her head. Her skin was still pale white, but it was dappled—as though she were washed with sea salt after the ocean water had evaporated. Her hair and her clothes were damp, and wet tendrils of fish netting hung from her like fingers.

Her companion was a short and stocky man with ash-brown hair and a ruddy complexion. He was young, perhaps in his mid- or late twenties. Dylan supposed some might think him good looking, if they could look past his weak chin and pinched eyes. But his scent was…odd. He smelled strongly of soot and smoke—unusual for a man so finely dressed.

Dylan lay quiet as she listened to their conversation with boiling anger. How she
longed
to throttle the sea witch for her mindless slaughter!

“And what do we do if this girl refuses to sing for you?”

“You rip her pelt to shreds,” the sea witch said. “And we use her as bait.”

“For what? Sharks?” the man snorted, amused by his own joke.

“No. For her family.”

It took every drop of Dylan’s feeble self-control to keep from leaping to her feet.
Never! You will never touch my family as long as I have breath in my body, you festering, shark-mouthed, hag!

“What good is one family of selkies?”

“Imbecile. This girl is the youngest daughter of Murron, King of the Ringsted selkies,” the sea witch snapped.

Dylan’s fury fell and her heart pounded in her chest.
How did she know?

The man asked, “How do you know? Don’t all them selkies look alike?”

“Perhaps, but there is only one selkie in the seas surrounding Ringsted who has the body—the pelt—of a sea lion, and that is the youngest princess of the clan.”

“I didn’t even know selkies could be sea lions. Shady business,” the man grunted.

“It matters not. Her capture will provide an edge for us—it will either lead to the slaughter and sacrifice of sea creatures or to the capture of her family.”

Dylan didn’t take the chance to think. Before she finished processing the sea witch’s bleak statement, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself at the sea witch, tackling her to the ground.

Dylan got her dearest wish and managed to fit her hands around the sea witch’s neck, but before she could squeeze, the man grabbed the back of her shirt-dress and hauled her away.

“Wildcat, isn’t she?” the man asked as Dylan lunged forward, almost escaping his grasp.

The sea witch glared as she picked herself off the ground. “Sea serpent,” she hissed. She tried to backhand Dylan, but she ducked and kicked out at the witch.

“From the way my men feared her, I thought she would be a hellion when she woke,” the man grunted. He cursed when Dylan kicked backwards, hitting his kneecap. “Someone hold her!”

The sea witch grabbed her by her hair, so Dylan flung herself at the twisted woman and managed to clock her in the nose before two men—one huge and the other short—grabbed her and held her between the two of them with iron grips as she thrashed and twisted.

“Something is odd,” the sea witch said, wiping sweat from her damp skin and blood from her nose. “She should have started singing by now.”

“Yeah, I suppose.” The man turned to inspect her. “She is exotic. Do all selkies look like this?”

The sea witch ignored his question and narrowed her eyes as she approached.

Dylan tried to kick the witch and missed.

“Speak, selkie,” the sea witch ordered.

Dylan tried spitting at the sea witch and again, sadly, missed.

“You think you can be silent? I will make you
howl
and
beg.
” The sea witch struck like an eel. She clamped a hand on Dylan’s left shoulder and thrust her talon-like nails into her skin.

That pain alone wasn’t so bad, but after the woman emptied a vial of sea water over her hand, she used some kind of magic that ran through Dylan’s body like an ocean current and did nothing but cause waves of pain. She opened her mouth to scream soundlessly, her back arched with pain as tears leaked out of her eyes. Her legs gave out, and it felt like the pain was tearing her from limb to limb as the sea witch shoved her nails deeper.

“Careful you don’t kill her,” the sea witch’s companion said. The camp was silent in the vacuum of Dylan’s inaudible screams.

When the pain made Dylan’s vision grow hazy and she sagged in her captor’s grasp like a ragdoll, the sea witch let her go.

“Black blood, she’s been sealed.” The sea witch spat, wiping her nails off on her dress.

“She what?”

“Someone with powerful magic has gotten to her already, and they sealed off her voice. An enchantress or a high-ranking fairy godmother—I would recognize the sickening smell of such
well-wished
magic anywhere,” the sea witch gurgled.

“What now? Doesn’t that ruin all of your plans?” the man asked as his minions lowered Dylan—still dazed with pain—to the ground.

“No, but it changes them. You will hold onto the girl. She’ll be nothing but a menace to me, and she’s useless without her voice, for that is how the seal people work their charms on the ocean.”

“What am I supposed to do with her?”

“Lock her up; throw her in a dungeon; I don’t care. Hold her captive for now. We’ll hold her until her people have given up all hope of recovering her and stop guarding the seas. Then we will bribe them with her life and catch them off guard. We must end it this summer,” the sea witch said. Although she didn’t move, her voice sounded farther and farther away to Dylan’s pained ears.

“Agreed. Although it has been quite profitable, I’m anxious to finish all this as well,” the man said as Dylan closed her eyes. She rested her head on the ground, every muscle in her body aching and twitching.

“Do not take any chances with her, Jarlath.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“I
mean
it,” the sea witch hissed, and Jarlath yelped.

“I won’t! By the king’s beard, woman, watch those claws!” Jarlath said.

The sea witch replied, but Dylan didn’t hear it as she eased off into the safety of sleep, away from her aching body.

Dylan woke to the steady drip of water on stone. She opened her eyes and had to rub them twice before they grew used to the sputtering torches mounted on the walls.

There were no windows in the damp, stone structure, and the air was cool—like a cellar dug beneath a selkie home.

Metal rods that ran from the low ceiling to the floor divided Dylan from the rest of the room. The room stored gold and jewels and what looked like a few magical lamps. She’d seen those in her bookworm-second-oldest sister Mairead’s illustrated books. There were also sparkling crowns, a stack of swords that gleamed with magic, a few shields, and other assorted, magical junk.

Dylan looked out at the items without much care until she noticed, on the opposite side of the room next to a skeleton of a man-eating unicorn, a water horse—a kelpie. A live one.

Watchful, she pushed herself to the back of her portion of the stone room. She stared at the creature.

A kelpie resembled a horse about as much as Lady Enchantress Angelique’s mount did. Equine in form with four legs, a mane, tail, and similar body structure, this beast was a horse the same way a hellhound was a dog. It was black—not the shiny black of a normal horse, but the dull, tattered black of cloth that has spent an eternity submerged underwater—with a few gray dapples on its hindquarters. Its mane and tail were long and scraggly—like it had just climbed out of a lake—and storm gray in color. Algae coated its flanks and chest, and hair covered its hooves, too. Its knees, barrel, and face were all sunken in, and its eyes were the glazed white of death—neither pure nor bright.

It wheezed as it breathed, its sides heaving. It didn’t even turn to look at Dylan as she armed herself with an empty bucket and crouched behind her cot.

After watching it for several minutes, Dylan realized the animal was chained in a box, and wouldn’t be going anywhere. It didn’t even have a bucket of water—and as a creature of the ocean, the kelpie was in the lowest points of torture and misery without it.

What sort of idiot keeps a kelpie?
Dylan thought.

Kelpies were the worst predators of the sea—worse than flesh-eating whales, worse than sharks.

They lived alone and craved the flesh of all creatures—selkie and humans alike. They hunted on shores and in the dark parts of the oceans. They would drag unwitting humans into the water and drown them, and they would attack sea creatures and slay them. Kelpies used an oily kind of magic to kill, and several selkie had been slain by the creatures even though they were in their seal bodies and immune to water magic.

On the whole, not much was known about kelpies. Mairead, the most widely read of Dylan’s sisters, and Muriel, who knew the most about magic, said they suspected water horses must have two strains of magic. First, water magic—because they could charge through water faster than seals, and their far-from streamlined bodies would normally have huge amounts of drag. Second, whatever magic they used to hunt.

Dylan shook her head.
The stupidity of landers knows no bounds.
She poked around her jail, testing the metal bars and jostling the door, looking for a way out.

She hadn’t been awake for an hour before a man brought in a bowl of cloudy soup, a chunk of hard bread, and a large bucket of coppery tasting well water for Dylan to drink.

He didn’t open the door to her prison, but slid the food through the spokes.

She snatched up her food and retreated to her fortification behind her bed to eat. Further searching and prodding of her cell yielded no results. She was locked in.

Time passed, although Dylan couldn’t tell if it was night or day in the windowless room. The torches burned constantly, and when it appeared they might go out, replacements were brought in.

Dylan wasn’t being fed enough; her stomach growled a consistent chorus whenever she was awake, but the kelpie was fed even less often than she.