The Mermaid's Shoal: The Forbidden Sea, #1

By J.F. Narnett

No-one leaves these waters alive...
Elfyn O Se has lived by the laws of the sea his whole life. He'd go by Elf to his friends if he had any left, but at least his crew are willing to put up with him, and it's not because he accidently cursed them all. Yet, maybe he can pull them together for one last job that might ease the fury of the tyrannical mermaid he wronged so long ago. He might have a chance to break the binds for himself and his crew, if he can pull it off.
There's just one problem; a rival mermaid called Anwen. As mysterious as she is terrifying - and hiding secrets of her own - she offers an alternative to break the curse if the crew can help her get home.
The crew of the Ossory now finds themselves caught in an odyssey brimming with magic and monsters. Battling against champions of terrible adversaries, mysterious lights from the deep, and kleptomatic selkies who deal in blood, Elf is faced with a choice.
Will he risk the future of his world to save his crews' souls, or condemn them all to protect the archipelago from certain calamity?

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.F. Narnett
• Release date: Dec 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223493389

Book preview

We know only too well that what we are doing is nothing more than a drop in the ocean. But if the drop were not there, the ocean would be missing something.

~ Mother Theresa

What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.

~ Werner Herzog

THE MERMAID’S SHOAL

The Forbidden Sea

Book #1

J.F. Narnett

© Narnett 2023.

No character, place or event is intended to represent a real equivalent. Any and all similarities are coincidental.

Characters, places, and narrative were created under the name Q.E. Saenz for the purposes of the 2022 Publishing Derby. Attempts to reproduce this material is forbidden under copywrite law.

Cover by oliviaprodesign

This book was written as part of the 2022 Inkfort Press Publishing Derby - check out the community and other entries here! (https://www.inkfortpress.com/2022-derby-books/)

ONE

THE PIRATE THREW a bag of coins down on the table, making a thud heavy enough to shake the crooked and rotting wood. Elfyn O Se considered the leathered bag, pretending currency had any worth here in the Caltanissa Archipelago, then folded his hand. The pirate stared at him, then folded his own hand, and a second pirate pulled the cards back into the deck. Elf watched the man across the table closely. He was older, beaten down by the brutality of the archipelago; his skin yellow and his skull protruding through his face. Through the holes in the mismatched, shabby clothes, Elf could see skin. He could also see malice in those features, a fire beneath the greasy hair and red eyes. Since Elf had not won a single round so far, he didn’t like his chances of getting off this ship alive.

‘So,’ the pirate said, flashing the gaps between his teeth. ‘You ain’t a tourist.’

‘What made you think I was?’ Elf asked. Next to him, Mihri shot him a look. She had positioned herself between Elf and the dealer, watching both of them with a steely, mistrustful gaze. His companion sat straight with her arms crossed and scorn written across her face, probably wishing she was anywhere else. Elf had to admit, he would have preferred a different meeting point. Though the space was made for private meetings between two people, the pirate sitting across from him had brought four massive cronies with him. Each of their chests were bare and their muscles scarred by old infection, the smell of sweat as heavy as the stifling air. If a fight were to break out, Elf was sure no-one could move enough to draw pistols without pushing someone through the wall. The added disadvantage was the fact they were on their ship.

The pirate didn’t answer his question. Instead, he waved a bony, mummified hand at the dealer, who began dealing a new set of cards. Mihri watched closely for signs of sabotage, while Elf kept his eyes on his adversary across the table. He knew the answer to the question anyway; he wasn’t a pirate, and it was written all over him as clearly as the grime that covered the table. He was dishevelled, but not dirty, his dark hair long and unkempt, but washed and falling over his face in a curl he couldn’t control. His leather coat was old and wearing at the seams, but the worth it used to carry still clung to the fabric like a ghost that couldn’t let go. Elf wondered if the pirate had figured him out or not. If he did, he wouldn’t be the first.

Elf had sailors blood running through him. He was as familiar with the ocean as most people were with walking, but in the company of Mihri - who could get seasick on the calmest of waters - the roughness of the sea spray and violent storms lost its edge. Unlike him, Mihri Munnamurrah held onto the finery of her old life, her dress clean and pressed, and her scabbard was stiff and unblemished. She was a tall woman, broad around the shoulders with dark skin and darker eyes, her black curls cut short and fluffy around her jaw.

‘What do you say…’ Elf asked the pirate. ‘We start making some real bets?’

‘You ain’t won a single card all night,’ the pirate said.

‘I see that as a win on your end,’ Elf said.

The pirate only narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t stupid, though Elf had been hoping he was. Mihri glared at him, then kicked him under the table, making him yelp. She leaned over, her voice barely a breath against his ear.

‘They’re possessed.’

Elf regarded the pirates around him. He hadn’t noticing anything off about them — different from other pirates at least — but Mihri had always been more observant than him. He gave a small nod, and she pulled away. The dealer pushed the cards across the table, and Elf considered his hand. If he waved two of the cards he had a chance, and there were four cards out of the six left in the dealers deck that could give him the highest hand. He waved two cards away.

‘Name something you want, and I’ll name something I’ll take,’ Elf said.

The pirate laughed. ‘You throwing around stupid words, kid. Maybe I want your guns, or your ship?’

Elf grinned back, then reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, rusted engine part, throwing it down on the table. He had no idea what it was or what it did, but he had been told it was rare. The pirate’s smile faded.

‘Where’d you get that?’ he demanded.

Elf shrugged. ‘Got plenty of them. Didn’t you hear about that massive war down south? A lotta ships going down, and the parts are just… there.’

‘Why ain’t you taken them?’

‘Because they’re good to bargain with.’

The pirate glared at him, and silence fell over the room. Elf still couldn’t see whatever Mihri had seen, but if she was right about the possession — and these pirates looked like they had seen better days — then a chance at escape was the one thing they couldn’t ignore. Real engine parts, not the bootleg stuff that ran through Caltanissa’s black markets, could get a ship out of these cursed waters and well into the mainland. These old fashioned voyager ships didn’t have the same steam burners as most of the ships on the water these days, but with possessions came hauntings, and they weren’t going to find a new ship without an engine that would need the parts.

One of the other pirates leaned forward and plucked the part from the table. He turned it over with a narrow expression, then gave a nod and placed it down on the table. Elf foraged through his pockets for another one, and dropped it down with its pair.

The dealer’s hand struck fast, catching Elf’s wrist and slamming his hand down against the rotting wood. In a blink, Mihri drew her cutlass and held it against the dealer’s throat. The pirate with the engine knowledge pulled his own sickle free and wrapped it around her neck. By the time Elf pulled his revolver from his belt, the others had weapons ready, save for the dealer and the pirate at the head of the table. Elf directed his weapon towards the leader’s head, a steady thumb locking the shot into place.

‘What you asking for in return?’ the pirate asked, unbothered by the barrel between his eyes. Elf moved his finger down to the trigger. Next to him, Mihri’s throat bobbed nervously, but her hold on her blade was sure.

Elf cocked his head forward. ‘I saw a chest behind the fat one.’

A sword was at his throat before he could blink, the cold steel pressing hard against his skin, the muscles of his larynx tightening.

He grinned. ‘So, it’s worth a bet.’

‘No,’ the pirate said.

‘Scared you’ll lose?’ Elf challenged.

The dealer grabbed the cuff of Elf’s coat and ripped it back, revealing the skin beneath. Elf’s false confidence crashed. In full view of the table was the mark that bound his soul, the jagged ring of black that formed a perfect circle beneath his palm. It reminded Elf of a ring left by a cold bottle of ale on a warm day, wobbly and thinner in some places compared to others, but a perfect circle all the same. He flinched, and the pirate at the end of the table laughed, low and confident.

‘You ain’t giving me nothing worth a bet,’ he said. ‘I don’t want your table scraps, and I’d bet the coins before I used them to buy your junk. You can’t leave the archipelago whether you have them or not; throw them out.’

Elf ripped his hand free from the dealer, lifting the gun into the air and waving Mihri down. She threw him an angry look, then ripped her sword from the dealer’s throat and shoved it back into the scabbard. The pirate waved to his cronies, and they copied.

‘It don’t matter what they mean to me,’ Elf said. ‘What do they mean to you? How badly you want them?’

The pirate glanced at the dealer, then lifted his cards from the table and considered them. ‘How many others you got?’

‘Two more engine rings,’ Mihri said. ‘A compressor, a ventilator, and most of a fuel line.’

‘Yeah, what she said,’ Elf said. ‘Enough to get a full boat out of the archipelago. One that ain’t haunted.’

He lifted his boots onto the table, crossing them at the ankles to stretch out across the space and claim some of it back from the foul-smelling oafs around him. ‘I could go on and on about how I intend to break this pesky little curse, but you don’t care, do you?’

‘Ain’t as stupid as you look,’ the pirate said.

Elf waved the comment away. ‘What do you say? Can we stop with the back and forth and gamble like real men?’

‘I want to see the other parts,’ the pirate said.

Elf glanced over at Mihri. When she only glared back, he offered a small wink. She rolled her eyes, then got to her feet and pushed past his chair to the door behind him. Moments later, she reappeared with Jian.

Yao Jian was a squirrelly thing, bony and oddly shaped, as though his skin didn’t quite fit over his skeleton. Jet black hair fell in uneven, choppy pieces over his shoulders. He stared at the scene with his dark, pointed eyes, always a little too wide, too unfocused, as though his attention was always somewhere else. Though, in a general sense, Elf supposed it was.

Jian reached into the pocket of his coat and threw down the rest of the parts, where they clattered and bounced across the wood. He shifted uncomfortably, then ducked back out the door. Elf turned back to the pirate.

‘You can’t have the chest,’ the pirate said.

Elf threw his hands up in defeat. ‘Then you can’t have the parts.’

‘This ain’t a fair bet.’

‘Hard for me to call that when I don’t even know what’s in it.’

The pirate fell silent, stumped, and Elf bit down on his lip to stop from laughing. There had been truth to that statement though; he had no idea what was in the chest. All he knew was that the job required him to have it before the night was out.

‘No bet,’ the pirate said. ‘It ain’t worth that.’

Elf sighed and pulled his feet down from the table. It was time for plan two. He threw his cards down and reached for the engine parts, only for the sickle to dig into the underneath of his chin. He froze, and the pirate grinned.

‘You’ll be leaving them parts,’ he said.

Elf grinned and dropped back into his seat. ‘So the bet is on?’

He could see the desperation in the men around him; the desperation that felt so haunting and familiar, that he couldn’t afford to give into, the need to get out of these waters no matter the strength of his ship. He’d go and draft himself in that big fancy war if it meant he could get away from the monsters of the deep. The same feelings echoed in the face of the man in front of him, a man who had met the supernatural forces that lurked in the abyss, forces that no human was made to combat. Now they struggled with the battle against the undine, and those were ghosts that didn’t leave survivors. If this chest was