Mermaid’s Reef

Antyon searches the ocean to find his brother’s killers, scouring the dead stonereef. But in the end, what he wants is not what he needs.

Cappin Hargraves was an old seadog saltier than the ocean he sailed and twice as furious. His parents, with an abundance of optimism and severe shortage of tact, had named him with all the pride that parents feel for their children and hope for his future. But despite his name, Cappin had never made more than coxswain on the trawling merchant barges that dredged the stonereef bay, and with grey about the temples and milk starting to swirl in his eyes it was unlikely he’d rise any higher before the sea closed cold iron teeth on him. That knowledge made him hard and bitter, and that made him perfect for Antyon.

A gob of spit, browned by chewing tobacco and poor teeth, hit the water and slowly dispersed into the salty brine. 

“We’re here.”

It looked much the same as any other stretch of the stonereef to Antyon, but that was why he was paying Hargraves and his crew rather than manning a skiff himself and venturing out alone. He stared a moment into Hargraves’ eyes, wondering at their appearance not for the first time. Like a morning coffee swirled with creamer, burning hot enough to scald unwise skin. For a moment, Antyon wondered if perhaps he was unwise, or just foolish, but the hulking form and scarred face turned away from him and the moment was gone. And foolish or not, he was here now.

Cold neoprene clung to his skin as he teetered on the rail. Behind him, he could hear the dull slapping thud of wavelets bashing themselves to death against fibreglass. In front, legs planted firmly on the deck, stood Cappin, staring out at the sea. He didn’t seem to pay any mind to Antyon, gaze fixed on some far distant point that only he could see.

“Thirty minutes.”

Anyton nodded, then realised Cappin couldn’t see the gesture, facing away from him as he was. The crew scurried around on deck, eyes peeled for any sign of the coastguards, and gave no indication that they saw his gesture as anything worth conveying to their for-the-moment boss. So he fumbled the regulator from his mouth, his lips already feeling tight and stretched even though the water was no more than an unseen possibility beneath him. Cappin glanced at him incuriously, hefting a speargun easily in one hand as he moved to join Antyon on the railing.

“Yes.” It wasn’t really an answer, but it hadn’t really been a question, either. Still, as Antyon placed the mechanism back between his teeth and tried to ignore the building tension spidering along his jaw, it bothered him that his last words in the free air might be a nonsense non-sequitur. He wanted to say something else, perhaps clarifying some part of their agreement. Something to reassert his control over the situation. But out here, over the stonereef, what control did he really have? Everything that need to be said had been, and probably some things that hadn’t needed to be said but which had, nonetheless, been forced from his lips by alcohol and the angry pounding of his heart. 

So Antyon let it go, and the iron grey water closed over his head like a fist.

***

Long bleached and petrified, the stonereef was silent. The dull roar of his blood and the hissing of his regulator were the only sounds as he swam through the jutting grey spires. A familiar requiem, and one that prickled at his nerves, drew sharp nails down his spine. Through the dreadful racket of his living needs, Anyton kept his ears pricked for the sound of music.

It’s so beautiful... I’ve never heard anything like it.

Barghest’s voice, earnest and pure, echoed in the silence, slipping between the beats of Antyon’s heart. Something dark, a large fish, flitted away from Antyon in his periphery, and he glanced down at his watch. Two minutes gone. Wasted. 

The dark form of Cappin floated in the water nearby. Antyon listened for a moment, and eventually reached out and gestured with his thumb pointed downwards. Cappin made a familiar gesture in return, pointing with both index fingers, hands together and one index finger sliding back to rest behind the other. You lead, and I’ll follow.

Air spiralled away from him in shimmering pearls, and he wondered if Barghest’s final view had been similar - life spilling from his lips as two minutes slipped past and were gone, taking everything with it. The surface was still close, and below Antyon the darkness stretched fingers among the sun-bleached rocks. And so he followed the weight pressing heavy on his heart and allowed himself to sink, as Barghest had all those years ago, straining to hear the music. Above him, rope stretched towards the open air, a silvery lifeline that seemed to glow among the shadows, and Cappin followed, trailing bubbles in his wake.

***

Eleven minutes in, and Antyon hit the bottom hard, raising a cloud of silt and muck, the swirling remains of long-dead creatures. His breathing rasped in his ears, pain shooting up behind his ears and spreading fingers across the back of his skull as the tension in his jaw tightened like a ratchet. There were no other sounds than his breathing, his heartbeat, the hiss of his regulator - the sounds of life, in these waters.

The speargun in his hand, lightened by the water, seemed to somehow be returning to its surface weight. It was bulky, hindering his movement, and he was tempted to simply hurl it to the ground and swim. Swimming was something he could do, something he had practiced for years. It was productive. There was an allure to movement, to chasing something even if he couldn’t see his prey, that soothed the burning anger inside him for a while. While his arms and legs were working, his brain stopped.

But he knew that here, in their domain, that leaving the gun aside was foolishness beyond reason, beyond any believability, so he dragged it with him and kept his senses alert for their song.

***

Beside him, Antyon could just make out the cloud of murk that shrouded Cappin. The man had been dubious of his goals, but the clink of coin had been loud enough to drown out any misgivings. And Antyon’s little boat might have been small, but it was Cappin’s domain for the duration of the chase, which had made the man grin like a shark that had scented blood. Sometimes Antyon worried that Cappin might betray him, but he had proven true to his word so far. 

Cappin held up a hand. Stop.

A quick gesture followed, two fingers tapping on his open palm. Antyon frowned, glanced at his read-out, at his watch. Raised a clenched fist in return.

On reserves. Five minutes remaining, and nothing to show for it.

Before them, darkness stretched out to infinity; the edge of the stonereef. The ground dropped away sharply, an edge that induced vertigo simply by its proximity, a precipice of sand and silt that yearned to swallow unwary visitors.

A snatch of haunting music echoed up from the depths, where Antyon could see shadows moving.

Down he gestured. Down.

Cappin shook his head, bubbles swirling in a silver maelstrom about his head, blending in with his wild hair. He drew a hand, open with the palm facing the ground, across his throat, then steepled his hands.

Antyon repeated his own gesture, stepping closer to the edge. His heart was racing, his chest aching with adrenaline. He would go down. Now. He was so close. He could nearly taste the victory, his revenge tingling in his fingers and tasting like iron on his tongue. The sand slipped and slid beneath his feet, giving way to the darkness as the music became louder. The dark shapes were closer now, though still shadows. Larger. Louder. 

Something grabbed him from behind, and Antyon thrashed in the creature’s grasp. His speargun tumbled from his grip and he watched as it spun slowly down into the deep waters. The darkness of the chasm seemed to creep into the edges of his vision, and the moving shadows blurred and twisted until they vanished with his gun, disappearing into the darkness.

The music faded, replaced by the shrill scream of his readout. Red alarm symbols flashed up in his fading vision.

OUT OF AIR

The shadows at the edge of his vision crept ever closer even as the sunlight became brighter, and Antyon felt his consciousness slip away as Cappin hauled him towards the surface.