Lenia hovered over the ship, peering down at it, brushing up against the tallest mast, and then swam to the main deck. Men were piled on top of each other, as if they’d been running to the side of the ship when it went down.
She tried to take in the death and devastation around her. The men who’d dropped through the water, who’d come to rest wrapped around the masts and ropes. She’d seen this kind of wreckage plenty of times before, but it felt different now. A young man’s body was wedged sidelong in an open doorway. He’d been climbing up a ladder from below when he died. His hair was long and blond, swaying in the water around him, and his eyes were open, staring up toward the surface of the water. Had she seen him screaming during the storm, struggling for life? At what point had his soul left his body?
She moved in closer to him. I’m sorry, she whispered. His body was clothed in green and gold, a dark green jacket with a line of brass buttons down the front. He must have been important. She ran her fingers along the brass, felt the crude design stamped into it. Some kind of creature she did not recognize. Did the man she’d saved dress himself this way, too? She reached up and touched the dead soldier’s hair. It was not just blond. It was brown and yellow and cream, all at once, and she could see he’d lived and worked outside, the sun beating down on him.
Did you know him? Who is he? What is he like?
She almost waited for him to respond, but the world stayed silent, and the only movement was from above, as a stream of translucent jellyfish wended their way down.
She moved her face right next to his, slipped her hand around to the back of his neck, the skin there.
This body. So full of secrets, of the world above, of men.
Who are you? she breathed. What were you like?
Was there any of him left, in this decaying flesh?
Beneath the bloated skin, she could see how beautiful this young man had been in life. She stared at his lips, traced them with her fingertips, and then again her mind went back to the other man, how his lips had felt against her own. That bliss that had moved through her. She shivered, remembering. And, without thinking, she pressed her lips against the dead young man’s.
A mass of tiny fish fluttered by, brushing her face.
As she pulled away, she imagined what her mother and sisters would think, seeing her like this. Though they had once caught Vela, as a tiny mermaid, holding a human skeleton in her arms and pretending to dance with it. But Vela had been innocent then, a child, not a marriage-aged mermaid, as Lenia was now.
She swam to one of the other openings to the galleys below and pressed her body down through it. She’d been in plenty of similar spaces, of course, but this was where he had lived, and the hammocks, the chests of clothes, the wooden beams and tiny windows—as enchanting as she’d always found such human objects—all took on a special significance to her now.
A jug of amber liquid lay tipped over on the floor, and she went to it, uncorked it and lifted it to her mouth. Her first sip was straight seawater. She drank until the spirit hit her, burning down her throat, and she spat it out. Awful. She grabbed a fish swirling by and stuffed it into her mouth, bit down on its sweet flesh, its crunching bones, but the taste still lingered in her mouth. It took a few more fish, plus some sea flowers that were already growing through the galley floor, to get rid of the taste.
She shook her head and swam along the line of hammocks to the other end of the room. Some of the ship’s structure had broken off completely here. A few bodies had been caught, and one had been lanced by a broken beam, a giant wound blossoming from where the beam pierced flesh, alive with sea creatures feeding from it.
She swam to one of the hammocks that was intact and moved into it, let her body rest against the thick rope. She stretched out. Closed her eyes and pretended that she was sleeping here. She thought of the black-haired girl she’d seen on the cliff, the only human girl she’d ever seen alive, and in her mind she became that girl. Resting her fragile body against the rope, that black hair spreading around her, her long legs reaching to the beam the hammock swung from on the far side.
She opened her eyes, looked out at the vision of her silver tail glittering in the dark room, against the old, rotting ropes.
Her sisters would think she was crazy. In love with ropes and bodies and rotten rum, horrible things that littered the immaculate ocean floor. But what they wouldn’t understand was how this decay was attached to something so beautiful she could barely stand to think of it.
Eternal life.
She scanned the room from her hammock perch. The splintering walls, a chest of drawers spilling open, more bottles filled with amber liquid wedged under some fallen beams, an eel slithering along the floor and then disappearing through one of the cracks, a team of glowing fish falling down into the room like raindrops.
An unbearable feeling opened up in her, and all she wanted was to see him again. The idea that he was there, now, existing in the world above her, the world she was not supposed to return to, made it impossible for her to stay away any longer.
She sat up and, just like that, made a decision. She started swimming, pushing upward. Leaving the ship and the palace behind. Past mountains and cliffs and sea caves, giant squids and whole lines of transparent medusas unfolding through the water. She let her body relax. She could have been anything, any creature that was at one with the sea and its movements. She closed her eyes, let the dark water fall in streams on either side of her. Her powerful tail pushed behind her.
She tried not to think about what would happen if her mother found out. Merpeople had been banished, even put to death, for crossing to the upper world on any day other than their eighteenth birthdays, but that was long ago, back when the decree had first been issued and merpeople still wanted to visit humans. No one ever tried to go now, it seemed, and, besides, Lenia was the queen’s daughter. What could really happen? she asked herself. And wasn’t it worth it, for true love?
It took longer than she’d remembered, but eventually the water grew warmer, she could see the surface of it, and she swam faster, reaching up to it and the dull ache of the sun beyond it. And then her face hit the air, and the silence of the sea was broken.
She blinked her eyes, stared out all around her. Hardly believing she was actually here. It was so simple. Once, mermaids had passed in and out of the upper world as if doing so were nothing at all. Just like this. This is how it was meant to be, she thought. It felt silly, suddenly, that she had waited eighteen long years to go. It was all wrong, the separation that existed now, this fear that something terrible would happen if a merperson entered the upper world. And now here she was. Perfect, alive, free. The air caressing her skin, sweeping her into itself.
She was careful to let the air enter her body slowly, naturally. This world was more peaceful than it had been before, despite the glare of light, but a variety of new sounds blared into her ears even so. The crash of waves, the whoosh of wind, the caw of birds flying overhead.
And there was so much light! As her eyes adjusted, she realized that something was falling from the sky. Big white flakes falling to the water and melting into it. She watched for several long moments, transfixed. They rushed down to the water, vanishing against the surface.
Water extended out from her in every direction, as far as she could see. It was so silver and pure from this vantage point, lapping and rushing, full of life. The sound of it! The foam funneling down the waves. The sky was pure white, almost blinding. Lenia had never seen so much white. She stretched out her arms, opened her mouth, and let the flakes fall on her tongue. Sharp and cold, and then gone.
She laughed out loud—it was all so wonderful—and then began to sing. Softly at first, and then with more vigor. The water around her started to swirl, and she raised her voice until the water began moving in quick circles, little tornadoes reaching deep under the surface.
And as she sang, she thought how each thing entering her—the air, the flakes falling from the sky, all this sound
and feeling—now felt like a soul. As if it was this euphoria that had filled those men at their birth and left them in the sea, and it was this that had filled the man she’d brought to shore and had started to fill her, too, as she carried him in her arms.
In the distance, now, she could just barely make out a shape of land. There! She stretched her tail and pushed through the water, heading toward land, toward him, and, as she approached, the land came more and more into relief. The same rocky beach, the sheet of rock, the wall, the building behind it, spread out, the torches, flickering to life. All of it coated in shimmering ice and snow.
Was he in there? Could he see the same light from the torches?
Come to me, she thought. Come back. Concentrating, so that he would hear her.
When she reached the shore, she closed her eyes and tried to imagine the feel of him under her, the warm, soft skin … She put everything she could into it, that feeling, that memory, to call to him. Never before then had she longed for legs, the strange appendages that allowed men to walk along the earth. Legs that would carry her to him.
How far does this world stretch? she wondered. Was it as wide and vast as the sea? What could possibly be inside that building on the cliff with the torches surrounding it, a giant cross extending from the roof and seeming to tap the sky? She had seen those crosses before, small ones, large ones, among the shipwrecks in the sea, and she knew, from her grandmother, that they had to do with souls.
The beach was deserted, rock-ridden, white with snow. She pulled herself onto the shore, dragging her body across the rocks, and stretched out her tail before her. For a moment, she was dazzled as the pale light hit her own body. How odd—the greens and blues that glittered from her tail, in the light. She held up her arms and laughed as they changed color. Maybe she would stay here forever, she thought, live on crabs she plucked from the rocks. He could stay here with her, and she could sing to him, and he could tell her of his travels in this bright, loud world.
She heard a sound and flinched. Was someone here? She looked up and down the shore, but it was empty. In the back of her mind, a shadow memory stirred, mermaid sisters being hacked apart by men. She closed her eyes, willed the image away.
And then suddenly, a figure appeared, on the cliff, at the top of the stairway. Lenia gasped, twisted her body around, toward the water.
“Please, stay!” she heard. The voice was strange, piercing. “Wait!”
The panic in the voice made Lenia stop. She turned back again and saw it was the girl from before, wrapped in furs, her dark hair blowing around her. Rushing down the stairs now, nearly tripping as she clutched the thin railing.
Lenia watched, fascinated, her body poised to return to the water in one leap, as the girl descended the stairs. A real human girl, right in front of her.
The girl reached the bottom of the stairway and began crossing the shore, to where Lenia sat. Walking tentatively over the rocks. She was beautiful, her movements graceful and light. Even with the furs swaddling her, and the long white garment underneath, stretching to her feet. Her black hair whipped around her face. Her skin was so delicate, like it could split open in an instant. Raw. Lenia could smell the girl, the smell of warmth and blood. The girl’s fragility, so much like the man’s. And yet the girl did not seem fragile, but confident and sure as she approached.
Lenia relaxed her body. Alone, this girl was no threat to her, she realized. Lenia could lift one of these rocks and smash her head in an instant. For a moment she imagined it: how the girl’s soul would leave her body and slip into the air, beautiful and pure, a shining web of light. Surely here, in the daytime, Lenia would be able to see it, watch it rise to heaven.
She watched the girl’s eyes widen, heard her pull of breath as she stopped halfway across the shore. For a moment they just stared at each other. The girl’s dark eyes moved up and down Lenia’s body, sweeping over her long tail, her torso and bare breasts, her long, ropy hair. When her eyes rested on Lenia’s, the girl looked away quickly, embarrassed. And then back again.
Lenia tilted her head. She could feel the emotions of the girl. So strange, how they affected her … in ways the air and the cold could not. But the girl was shivering, like she had no skin at all. Was this a soul? This fragility, this absence? And that smell. Cold and wind, but, under it, other things. Spices, warmth, blood.
Lenia tried to calm her. Talk to me, she thought, concentrating. Tell me who you are.
After a few moments, the girl stepped forward, then knelt down on the rocks. “My name is Margrethe,” she said.
Lenia smiled. “My name is Lenia,” she said. “Len. Ee. A.”
“Lenia,” Margrethe repeated. “You are not cold?” She gestured awkwardly at Lenia’s torso.
“No.”
“I’m so cold my skin burns.”
“You are softer than I am,” Lenia said, smiling, touching her own skin self-consciously.
Margrethe smiled back then and seemed to relax. “Yes. I’ve never seen a …”
“A mermaid?”
“Mermaid.” Margrethe repeated the word, whispering. “I wasn’t sure if you … I wasn’t sure if you, if your kind, even existed. I heard stories, when I was a child. But I thought they were only stories.”
Lenia cocked her head. How strange. She’d always imagined that humans thought about her kind, too. They were always taking off to the sea in their giant ships, after all. “Well,” she said, “we are not supposed to come to your world. We are allowed to visit when we turn eighteen, but we’re supposed to remain hidden, not let you see us.… A long time ago, things were different.”
“But you came … to save him?”
“Yes. I suppose I did.”
“Why?”
Lenia stared up at the girl’s open, curious face. Why? “I just … I saw the men, they were dying. It was my first time. In your world, I mean, above the ocean’s surface. Men were dying all around me. And then I saw him, and he was dying also. I knew I should save him. I couldn’t let him die.”
And because I loved him, she thought.
“Why here?” Margrethe asked.
Lenia shrugged. “I just knew to bring him here.”
“To me?” Margrethe asked, shyly.
Lenia hesitated. It seemed important to this human girl to think that the man had been a gift, from Lenia to her. She spoke slowly. “Well. I saw you standing there, and I called to you.”
The girl leaned back, seemed to let the information sink into her. “I heard you, I think,” she whispered. “A voice, in my mind. Did you do that?”
Lenia nodded. “Yes.”
Margrethe’s face changed, and she visibly relaxed. “I’ve been waiting for you. I thought you might come back. Maybe to see him.”
Lenia looked down at the icy rocks, and then up again. “Is he still here?” she asked.
“No. He is … He was in danger here. From an enemy kingdom. And so he left.”
“He is your enemy?” Lenia asked.
“Yes.” Margrethe paused and then continued rapidly, explaining. “I’m in hiding here. My father is the king of the North. The Southern king is his enemy, and they have fought great wars against each other. They both feel this land is theirs.” She paused then. “I don’t know why I am saying this to you. I cannot talk to anyone else. I mean, I am not myself here.”
Lenia took it in, what this girl was saying. A princess, she was. Lenia imagined that, in the human world, this was something even more fine than in her own. She thought of all the treasures glittering under the sea—the jewels and gold, the chandeliers and giant ships, the glass bottles of amber liquids. A thousand different wonders.
Margrethe leaned forward. “What did you mean when you said things were different a long time ago?”
“When we were all the same race,” Lenia said. “Things were different then, between us.”
“The same race?”
“Us,” Lenia said, pointing at herself and then at Margrethe. “When humans were part
of the sea. When the world was entirely sea. You have not heard this?”
“No.”
“It is something we are all told about,” Lenia said, “when we are young. How the world was all sea once, ruled over by a king and queen, until there was a terrible battle between them, and the king ripped up the ocean floor and left to found the upper world, changing his tail to legs so that he could walk upon it. They say that is why the ocean is filled with caverns and crevices.”
The girl had never heard any of these things, Lenia realized. She had not even been sure that mermaids really existed, before now, outside of stories.
“Full of caverns?”
“Yes, everywhere.” Lenia smiled, noticed that the girl was not shivering anymore despite her red, chapped skin.
Margrethe shook her head. “I feel like I’m dreaming. I have heard so many stories about mermaids, since I was a small girl. I always dreamt of what it would be like, to disappear in the ocean, learn its mysteries. I wish …”
The girl’s longing was palpable, and it seemed to match Lenia’s own. For a moment, Lenia saw the sea through this human girl’s eyes. She imagined pulling the girl underwater, showing her the palace made of amber and mussel shells, the underwater volcanoes that shot fire into the sea, the ancient shipwrecks full of the bones of her ancestors, the impossible monsters that lived in the corners of the ocean, and then she thought of the blond soldier’s body, bloated and peeling, which she’d kissed, and she remembered … This was as far as she herself could go into the upper world, only this beach, and the girl would die in the sea.
“What is it like?” Margrethe asked.
Lenia leaned forward, thought for a minute, but there was so much to describe, and she had almost nothing to compare it to. “I don’t know …,” she said. “I wish I could show you. Just as I wish you could show me.”
“I would like that. I wish I could show you my home, where I live usually. It is so beautiful there, and there is a big, bright sun, not like this.”