The weight of the bound and gagged mermaid pressed on Yerdan’s shoulder. She was much heavier than a woman of similar height. He would know.
In the main chamber of their cavernous home, stakes had been driven into the ground. Yerdan placed the mermaid against it and tied her bonds to the post. To his left, Ornea did the same, and so too did another sailor.
“You found one?” exclaimed the mercenary battlehealer as he came through the door that led to the captain’s quarters.
“We found three,” proclaimed Yerdan. “Got lucky and found a shoal. The proud words reverberated through the caves.
“I did not…” the mage’s words trailed off, but the surprise on his face said it all.
Ornea cast a look at Yerdan. He had seen it a thousand times before. It was her way of saying “I told you so.”
From the same door emerged Captain Drebbin with Ulf supporting him by his arm. It was good to see him walking, but there was something unnatural about his motions. Or perhaps it was his burnt body that unsettled Yerdan.
The captain turned to the mage. “How?”
“They can heal you, Captain Drebbin.” His voice trembled slightly. Barely enough to notice, but Yerdan knew what to listen for. Perhaps Ornea was right. “They just may not want to. You may need to persuade them. Promise them freedom in return, perhaps.”
The captain nodded and shuffled to the first of the mermen. It was one of the two females. “You. Help. Me.” His words were staccato and nigh more than a whisper.
Ulf undid her gag.
“Wh- what are you?” The mermaid’s eyes were locked on the captain’s maimed face. She did not blink. Her breaths were gasps.
“Help. Or. Kill. Friend.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered. “I can’t help you.”
The captain drew a blade from Ulf’s vest and thrust it in the neck of the second mermaid. Blood seeped into the sand as the creature’s body convulsed and its tail thrashed violently, almost breaking the pole that held her bonds. Then, it went limp.
“No,” shrieked the first. Its hands were tense, and it was burrowing its nails deep into its skin. “Please, no.”
“Help. Me,” demanded Captain Drebbin.
“I can’t.” The creature wailed, shaking its head, its cries interrupted only by sharp breaths and piercing howls. “I can’t… I can’t,” the shrill phrase spilling out in desperate terror.
“Did you feel that?” the mage asked, turning his head towards Ornea. “You did. Didn’t you?”
“What’s he talking about, Ornea?” Yerdan had not felt anything, but Ornea was clenching her arms across her chest. Her wild curls clung to the sweat on her forehead, her hourglass tattoo distorted by the tension in her jaw. “What’s wrong?”
“When she died,” the mage answered. “She felt it, too. A disturbance in the elements.”
“Ornea, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I’m not sure. A pulse of some kind. Unpleasant. Powerful, but subtle.”
“It means that it’s working, captain,” the mage smiled.
Without hesitation, the captain ran his knife across the merman’s neck. The mermaid’s wails echoed against the cavern walls.
“There it is again, stronger this time.” The mage trotted forwards, carrying a wide grin. “Yet the pulse didn’t come from the dead mermen, captain. It came from her.”
“What are you saying?” Yerdan asked. “We need to catch more of them?”
“Cast out. Thou-sand. Nets.”