Page 86 of The Noble's Merman

“I’m fine, better than ever actually!” Allen put a hand on his neck and rubbed the new feature that must’ve been incredibly sore. Mo thought for a moment he might’ve had a tail as well, but upon closer inspection, no, Allen still had legs, wrapped in his breeches. “How is Fareham? Is he breathing?”

“Yes, he is. He’s all right.”

He felt magic bloom in his chest, pulsing along, matching Kent’s heartbeat with his own. Yes, he was sure that Kent would be fine, as long as they could make it to land…

“I lost my hold on Seth as we fell,” said Allen with a grim look on his face. “And I haven’t seen him bobbing his head. I’m afraid…”

“Mo, are you there?” a feminine voice clicked loudly in mer-tongue.

“Wenta!” Mo shouted.

There she was, a short distance behind Allen, holding Seth in her arms similarly to how he was holding Kent. Thankfully, it appeared Seth’s eyes were open, albeit barely.

Allen looked at Wenta with a puzzled look, and there Mo realized—this was the first time the two had ever met. Mo wished they all could have met under better circumstances, but alas.

“Let me help you with him,” said Allen to Wenta. He reached and threw one of Seth’s arms over his shoulder, helping her keep him afloat. “For some reason, I could understand your clicks. That’s so strange. I am Allen, by the way.”

“I’m Wenta,” she said in English. “That is so very strange. You have gills like a merman, yet you still have human legs. I’ve never seen such a thing!”

“I am a half-breed, or something of the sort, so I’ve been told.”

“Perhaps we should spare the chatter for the moment,” said Mo. “We need to focus.”

“Right,” replied Wenta. “We are very close to England. If we swim around the ship, we should be able to see land.”

“Truly?” Mo’s heart raced in excitement that their journey would soon be over. Especially so, when he wasn’t sure how long Kent would last being mostly submerged in the cold water. Mo knew humans were not built to accommodate the temperature like merfolk were.

“Yes, now let’s hurry!” Wenta urged.

Mo swam quickly, kicking his tail, holding onto Kent dearly, doing his best to keep his head above the surface. They circled around the burning ship that was plummeting into the depths; the screams faded as the lives aboard vanished along with the vessel. But as each piece of the ship sank, and the rain still sprayed down, it churned the sea with a forceful storm surge. Waves ebbed and flowed, shrinking low, growing tall—it was a struggle to stay within the group, to not be plunged asunder.

“Wenta, my dear?” He heard Seth’s voice, weak and quiet. “Allen, too? Oh, where are we?”

“Don’t you worry your head,” said Wenta. “We’re bringing you back to England.”

“England?!” Seth’s eyes widened. “How could you! Oh, this is madness! They’ll hang me for treason; I’m a pirate!”

“They don’t know that, do they?” she said with an edge of playfulness. “From what you told me, last anyone heard of you in England you were a swab on HMS Halliday. They won’t know the wiser, that you joined a pirate crew after it was seized. Please, don’t assume the worst of me when I’m trying to save your life!”

Mo watched Seth sigh as the two redheads pulled him along the waves. “Yes, I suppose you’re correct. You’ve never steered me wrong, Wenta. Right along, then!”

They kept swimming; the mound of land in the distance grew larger as they crept closer. Mo wondered where Noon was, if she was nearby still, but figured that she likely took shelter elsewhere. The wreckage of the ship certainly would be frightening to any sea life, and he wouldn’t want to see her hurt by any sharp wood or loose weapons. Perhaps they will meet again, should fate allow it.

“Ugh… Mo?”

His breath hitched as Kent stirred in his arms. “You’re safe, darling. You’re safe.”

“Where are we…?” He coughed. “Why are we in the water?”

“We’re heading back to England. I’m swimming you there.”

“We are? Oh… Lord…”

Kent seemed to pass out as he said no more words, closing his eyes again. Mo held firm onto the back of Kent’s head, running his fingers through his long brown hair. Before he could let any worries overtake his mind, the magic pulsed inside himself again, and strangely, he felt a pressure from Kent’s chest touching his as well. It was if they truly were one—connected to each other.

But while Mo and Kent were connected, the three others drifted further away from them. The waves rolled higher as the John Beaut—now behind them—finally cracked its last cry, crashing its massive, towering mast into the sea. It sent a shockwave of water hurtling toward them, unavoidable, unrelenting.

“Mo!” Wenta called out.

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