The Mermaid Disease

9/Fishing

She was not prepared when the merman yanked on her arm and started to swim with her in tow. "Whoa! Hey!" she yelled, shoving his shoulder with her free hand. "Is lugging me around like this really necessary? At least tell me why the rush."

     Izmuir stopped swimming and let the girl go. He whirled around to face her and smirked. "I never agreed to answer your questions immediately, and it would ease our journey if you place a hold on your inquiries." The teenager glared at him, so he continued, "If you must know, we are traveling to a place of beginnings new and old, where we will stay. If we do not tarry, we will likely intercept a few friends of mine along the way. Now, let us go quietly."

     Unkind words crossed the girl's mind as she listened to the merman's half-answers. But she didn't put up a fight when Izmuir motioned for them to start moving again. 

     The two quickly realized that Kelsea could not swim on her own for long. She was essentially a lame duck with her two human legs stuck together like a child pretending to be a dolphin or whale or even a mermaid. 

     If only this were just a game of pretend. 

     To cover ground more quickly, the merman either had to hold her or let her hang on. Unlike the previous time they swam together, there was no easy way to position themselves. They tried to have Kelsea hold on to his shoulders from behind, but her legs kept rubbing against his scaled tail in a thoroughly unpleasant manner. 

     Unable to take it any longer, she demanded they reposition themselves, resulting in him holding her bridal-style. She wasn't complaining there.

     They swam and swam and swam. Well, the merman did. Kelsea could have sworn they were on the move for days. More realistically it was a few hours. Whichever way, she was thankful when they stopped. Her stomach was trying to eat itself.

     In front of them was a sunken ship, one that made the tiny boat she had stayed in earlier pale in comparison. It was beautifully preserved and miraculously right side up. The ship was old and wooden, which made its condition all the more puzzling. It looked like it had sunk only the day before, as if sails could be reattached to the masts and the ship would sail away right there.

     "We will rest here," Izmuir said, letting go of the girl. The two swam towards the poop deck. (Kelsea, being the mature young woman that she was, loved that term: "poop deck.")

     The merman and human girl entered the room below the poop deck through a door that had been left wide open. Izmuir closed it behind them while she sat down on a wooden writing desk.

     "How is all this here?" Kelsea asked as she looked around, amazed. There was an oil painting hanging on the wall and paper maps spread out on the desk she sat on. "This is impossible."

     Izmuir smirked in his usual, roguish manner. "Would you believe me if I said this was a product of the magic of merfolk?"

     Kelsea couldn't help but smile in response. "Oh yeah? And what else can mermaid magic do?"

     "Merfolk," he corrected, a more serious tone to his voice, "and there is much you have to see and learn. Our magic is everywhere under the sea."

     While Kelsea reflected upon that comment, the merman flitted around the room, examining every nook and cranny, opening and closing every drawer, and looking inside the heavy wooden trunks. Having not found whatever he was looking for, he swam up to the beams that crossed the ceiling and pulled down a long spear. 

     Her jaw fell open at the sight of the weapon. It was all black, simple and unadorned except for some kind of script embossed on the sharp spear head.