Lost at Sea

Eleanor waited until he’d finally fallen asleep, although it hadn’t been easy. He was visibly upset. Violent shudders would wrack his body every so often, leaving her with an almost uncontrollable urge to reach out and comfort him. Almost uncontrollable, but not quite.

The sky was just starting to lighten when his breath slowed and he moved no longer. She surfaced silently and pulled herself onto the shore beside him, minding the water that dripped off of her so that it wouldn’t wake him. She watched his eyelids flutter with his dream and felt fondness toward this man she barely knew.

That wasn’t entirely true, and she knew that much for certain.

His lips parted slightly and moved without sound, but she understood their meaning. Eleanor. Warmth engulfed her as he finally showed that the first sign that their fate had been tangled once upon a time.

“I love you,” she whispered without thinking. She slapped a hand over her face in shock. The words felt so foreign in her mouth. “I love you,” she repeated. The more she thought about it, the more she thought that that was the right thing to say.

She left him then, that beautiful man in the sand. She caught as many fish as she dared and crammed them into her basket before releasing them live in the cove. They wouldn’t live in the freshwater for more than a day or two, but it was the best she could do. She wasn’t going to be able to come back for a while.

When Eleanor was done saying what could very well be goodbye to him, she collected Sarah’s dead body from the seafloor. The sharks still wouldn’t go near her, but a few bottom feeders had picked at her flesh. Eleanor pursed her lips in irritation, but there was nothing that could have been done to help that.

She swam with the dead siren’s body all the way down to the small city that she knew Lizbeth was playing queen in. Atlantis was not built, per se, but rather a series of tunnels that maintained ridiculous temperatures that should melt their skin off, but didn’t. The vents that surrounded it burrowed deep into the Earth’s core, where liquid fire rolled like the ocean.

She guided the body through the tunnels where little changed. The plans were committed to memory. A left turn at the fork, then a right, and then head straight. The tunnel, which had seemed to be getting narrower, suddenly opened up into a massive room. This was what Eleanor liked to call Lizbeth’s throne room.

Twelve women with floating hair and exquisite features sat in a crescent moon around the far edge of the room on either side of Lizbeth, leaving an open spot in the center for trials. She blessed the stars that were in her favor today. If it had been only the self proclaimed queen, Eleanor would be executed on the spot.

“Sisters,” Eleanor greeted, stopping in the center and baring her throat in submission. They replied with various growls and aggressive gestures that displayed their dominance. She could feel the thrill of adrenaline rushing against her skin; participating in one of these audiences took a great deal of skill. Any one of the council members could rip her throat out before she even got to present her case, and none of the others would even bat an eyelash.

“What is the meaning of this?” One of them demanded. “What has happened to the girl you brought with you?”

“Please, give me the time to explain,” Eleanor asked politely, arranging her features into an indifferent mask as she avoided eye contact with her elders.

“Very well,” Lizbeth acquiesced, leaning forward in her seat. Her tail swished impatiently, however.

Eleanor took a deep breath and worked on telling the tale she’d spun on her way here. “As is well known, I chose long ago to live separate from my sisters. This was an act that I was very well aware could kill me, as I would not have the support of the clan in case of an attack.

“When Sarah found me, I’d just finished weaving a fish basket to pass the time. She was agitated. She demanded to know what I was doing out there. I tried to keep her calm, but there was obviously a pressure on her that she wasn’t admitting to.” Here, Eleanor slid her eyes over to Lizbeth. Although she knew it was probably a bad idea, she met violet irises evenly.

“Sarah attacked me. She gave me the gashes to see against my cheek and she meant to kill me. In self defense, I lunged for her throat. Before I knew what I was doing, my teeth had closed around her windpipe and I’d ripped it out.” Murmurs of approval went up through the room. Lizbeth’s face turned a little more red with every syllable, but Eleanor did not stop.

“I took some time to calm myself. I swam for a long time before I felt as though I could face her body again. When I finally could, I brought her here to you.”

As soon as Eleanor finished her tale, conversation exploded through the cavern. Some demanded that Sarah’s body be thrown into a vent and her name labelled as a traitor, and others couldn’t believe that she had done something so rash. Lizbeth remained silent, her eyes boring into Eleanor’s with an intensity that she’d never felt before.

“Silence!” Lizbeth shouted. Instantly, the cavern became soundless once again. She slipped out of her chair and moved toward Eleanor slowly. “I sent Sarah to investigate you.”

“Did you?” Eleanor asked, feigning surprise. “Interesting that she didn’t mention that before attacking me.”

“What proof have you that declares she is the traitor and not you?”

“I have no proof,” Eleanor admitted, staring at the stone floor beneath her in a show of submission. “Only my word. I had hoped that it and my ten years of loyal service as a hunter would be enough to convince the council.”

“On what grounds did you decide to have her investigated, Lizbeth?” A woman called from the right side of Lizbeth’s place. Eleanor recognized her as Lizbeth’s right-hand servant, Lennox.

“Don’t you have a floor to scrub?” Asked another council member. The raspy chuckle that followed would haunt Eleanor’s dreams for years to come.

“Silence,” Lizbeth snapped again. She paused for a moment, studying Eleanor for a second longer than necessary before turning to address the rest of the coven elders. “Eleanor here has been showing uncharacteristic behavior. Disappearing prematurely on a hunt not once, but twice, and direct insubordination.”

“Maybe, then, we should remind her of our culture,” one said, smiling wildly to show all of her needle sharp teeth. Eleanor shuddered.

“Very well,” said another, “-it has been decided. The traitor’s body will be sacrificed to Poseidon in the vents, and Eleanor will spend the next three days here in Atlantis to be reminded of what she is.”

Lizbeth seemed unhappy with the verdict, but because sirens were not a governed people, she did not argue. Eleanor gathered up Sarah’s limp body and started for the tunnels again, but Lennox’s voice stopped her.

“Don’t forget, Eleanor. It doesn’t matter where you came from. You are ours, now.”

Eleanor shuddered, but said nothing and left