With a cascading splash, the net landed in the seawater. Yerdan felt their prisoner’s eyes fixed on him. Ulf had bound the man against the ship’s main mast. Supposedly, he was the port master of some Bercusan village, though Yerdan had forgotten its name. The sunburn on his bare torso was nearly as red as the scabbed cuts left by Ulf’s persuasion tactics. According to the man, mermen frequent these waters. For his sake and the captain’s, Yerdan hoped he spoke the truth, but doubt filled his mind. Or perhaps it was worry.
From the other side of the Hauler, Ornea waved Yerdan over. His boots echoed a hollow thud with each step. A pale reminder of the empty hold, below, destined for a treasure that was never claimed. They had lost it all. Even the captain, his one constant in life, would not be spared, and now they were hunting for mermen, chasing an unlikely remedy for certain death.
“Help me with this one, will you?” Ornea held her crooked hand up to signal that she had reached her limit. Her narrow eyes, low brows, and tense neck were all too familiar for Yerdan. Her knew her well enough by now. She was worried.
Yerdan tied the end of the net to a small crane. “You don’t believe it’ll work.”
“Is that a question?”
“No.”
There was a brief silence during which her eyes darted around, as if checking for eavesdroppers. They were alone. “I don’t trust those mages.”
“Why not? The captain can walk again. Barely, but still. They did that.” Yerdan pulled on the winch to lift the net.
“Yes, and now two of them have left to get more ingredients.”
“There’s still one with the captain. Tending to him.”
“They know that they cannot help us and fear what we’ll do to them when we figure that out. Believe me, we’ll never see those two mages again. That’s why they sent us to capture a merman.”
Yerdan lowered the net into the water. The boat was now dragging it after them. “You don’t think that it can save him? I remember when my mother–”
“We all know the stories. A mermaid that was in love with a human, who found her lover murdered on the coast where they were meeting in secret.” She waved her hand around in large circles as she spoke. “In her mourning, she miraculously brought her lover back to life. How much of our hoard are we to spend on a fairytale? A legend. There is no such magic.”
“I–”
“We got something!” a sailor yelled, pulling on a crank to reel in a net.
Ornea and Yerdan ran to the net, and as they arrived, the catch was released.
Amidst the seaweed and smaller fish, she lay. Her torso, arms, and head were like any human. Yet, she had no waist or legs. In their stead was a scaly and muscular tail. She flailed it around with aggression, hurling drops of water all around her as it smashed into the wooden boards. A woven fabric was wrapped around her chest and shiny trinkets were sewn into it.
“Brigands!” she screamed. “Or poachers you must be. These waters are ours as your rulers well know.” As she spoke, loose flaps of skin in her neck fluttered up and down. “I demand that you release me at once.”
Yerdan turned to Ornea. Her eyes were wide as if she could not believe them. It was a feeling that he shared. But not Ulf. His eyes were radiant, and a grin stretched the breadth of his face.
Ulf turned to their prisoner. “Seems like you’ll live another day, port master.”
“Everyone,” a sailor called from behind. It came out like a shriek. “I think there’re two more caught in my net.”