Tiffany Dunn - If I Should Never Find You

The others crowded around her, pushing Wendell to the outside and making enough noise to stir the dogginess deep within. He snarled softly and, instead of forcing back the feeling, decided to use it. He had learned humility from his time as a dog, but he'd also seen how easy it was to be pushed around. Lately, that was all that seemed to be happening to him. Perhaps he could harness that dog quality again, and get back a little of what he'd lost.

"Everyone be quiet!" he commanded, pleased with the way his voice carried down the long hall. Even Melissa fell silent under his words, and he stifled a grin. Success, he thought. Aloud, he said, "Melissa, come with me into the study and we will discuss this. The rest of you are dismissed." The servants and guards all bowed and slipped away after only the tiniest hesitation. The biting, churlish feeling he'd termed his 'dogginess,' disappeared as he watched them go, making sure the crowd at least made the pretense of leaving. After spending months struggling against it, he'd found the way to ease his curse. Openly smiling, Wendell turned back to tell Melissa, but she had already disappeared through the doorway.

He hurried after her, and found her pacing restlessly around the room. Her empty hand gestured in sharp, frantic bursts, while she tapped the flat side of the knife blade against her hip. She nearly leapt towards him when he entered, shoving the knife in his face.

"We have to go," she spit out. "Right now. This is it."

Holding a hand up, both to stop her and protect himself, Wendell put some distance between them. "Wait. Go where? What is this knife you keep throwing around?"

She sighed, planting one hand on her hip. "I don't have time to tell you everything. The mermaids are waiting. They're going to take us to Rena. We have to get a ship."

Wendell blinked, trying to piece together the information and failing. "Rena?" he ventured as a start.

"Soul Ravager. Look, here's the summary: I went outside and mermaids came up to me from the ocean. They want to help us kill Rena -- Soul Ravager -- because she's their sister. They want her to be at peace. This," she held the knife out, "is the knife they gave her originally to kill the prince, who was my grandfather. Now they say it's the one thing that can kill her. We have to stab her, and then we have to push her into the sea. It's the only way. And they'll bring us to her island twice as fast if we get on a ship and get out there right now." As she spoke, she walked around and scooped up a sleeping Grojavek. The little imp squealed, his eyes flying open as she stopped at the doorway. "Let's go."

Unable to argue with that, Wendell followed after her.

Joffrey had just come down to the hallway to see what the noise was about, taking his slow, steady steps to get to them. Melissa explained the story again to his disbelieving eyes and then abruptly left. The young king shrugged and followed after her into the windy night.

The mob had long since dispersed and there was only the tired guard leaning against the gates as they left on foot. Melissa demanded information on where they could get a ship, and he hurriedly answered her, apparently as moved by her crazed eyes as everyone else had been. Wendell suspected the fact she was wielding a knife in one hand and an imp in the other had something to do with it, as well.

They ran down towards the pier, stopping at the house the guard had suggested and knocking furiously. It was a small, stone building, almost a tiny version of the castle. It showed even more wear in the moonlight, and it's pale stone was grimier, though the garden along the side was well cared for. A man answered Melissa's frantic pounding with heavy eyes and a curse on his lips. When he saw who was at his door, he dropped a hasty bow and promised to be ready in a few minutes to serve the princess. Apparently the news of her arrival had spread quickly.

True to his word, the fisherman, Dennis, had them out on the water within minutes, the wind pushing at the sails. His boat was nearly thirty feet long, and sliced eagerly through the waves. Dennis was dressed in pants and a heavy coat, a knit cap rolled down to protect his ears from the wailing wind. Wendell and Melissa huddled at the back of the boat, using Dennis as a shield from the cold.

"Uh, Princess?" Dennis' deep voice warbled uncertainly, "There's somethin' comin' at us. Big fish, sorta. These them?" Melissa had relayed part of her tale to the fisherman as he'd worked to get them going. She stood now and stalked to the bow, leaning over the edge until Wendell had to get up and follow her, afraid she'd fall in. When he looked over the railing, he saw the pale features of a woman, her hair sparkling silver.

Behind her, a male came into view pressing up against the side of the boat. His arms were hugely muscled as he started to strain against the wood. Wendell frowned, and then looked down the length to find merman lined up and doing the same. He jerked forward with the boat, and felt the surge of speed through his feet. Somehow, these mermen were pushing them towards the island. "Remarkable," Wendell breathed. Watching them gave him a headache, and the wind was biting into his skin, so he put an arm around Melissa to lead her to the back again. She surprised him by settling into his embrace.

"They came," she said, holding the knife in both hands. The desperation was gone from her eyes, he noticed with relief. But deep within he saw an implacable resolution that looked almost as frightening.

"May I see the knife?" he asked, gesturing at the weapon. She looked at it, then glanced at him and he read the doubt in her face. "I'm not completely incompetent," he snapped. Though Melissa dipped her eyes guiltily, it still took her a few more seconds before she held it out to him. He took the knife quickly, before she changed her mind, and settled it into his own palms for closer examination. Though the boat was moving fast, it was a smooth ride, and he didn't fear losing their precious weapon.

Up close, the knife appeared relatively unremarkable. The blade was extraordinarily thin, and looked fragile, but the metal was solid and strong. Testing the edge, Wendell found it sharp, but not excessively so, and the heft seemed oddly balanced. The handle was a simple piece of driftwood, carved to curve with the hand so it was easy to hold and use. A good weapon, but not one that could fell a powerful creature. He returned it with a shrug. "The mermaids gave this to you?"

Melissa's hand clutched the handle and she drew the knife in close to her body. "Yes."

"It does not seem magical."

"It will work." She looked at him hopefully. "It will."

"Of course." Wendell knew it was impossible to argue with faith. He put his arm around Melissa's shoulder again and they huddled together as they sped towards the island.

Time passed without notice into the dark night. The wind whistled by them, occasionally drowned out by the slapping of waves against the hull. Wendell tasted salt on his lips, and his cheeks itched from the water that had misted against his face and dried. The arm he had around Melissa grew numb as they continued silently on their trip, but he kept it there for both of them. His thoughts seemed scattered by the wind, never settling for more than a moment on any one point. He thought of the monster they were going to face; the merfolk that had appeared to help them; the imp, who lay snuggled against their feet. Grojavek's warmth wrapped around Wendell's ankles, and he could only smile ruefully at the thought of the imp helping them at all, even accidentally.

Eventually, Dennis turned and hollered at them to wake up. Wendell stirred, not having been asleep, but neither really being awake, and rolled his shoulders. He stood after making sure Melissa was all right, and faced towards the bow. An island loomed in front of them, one side streaked with moonlight, the other hulking in shadow. The mermen's frantic push slowed, and the boat shifted under Wendell's feet again. Melissa took slow steps towards the front, her eyes wide. It was as ominous a sight as they'd both feared and, instinctively, Wendell knew they'd have to climb at least partway up the small mountain that formed the bulk of the island.

The wind died suddenly, filling the air with the splashing of the mermen in the water. There were a series of louder splashes, and the boat began drifting towards shore. Wendell peered over the railing to find all of the merfolk gone.

"Looks like this is it," he murmured, even his soft words loud in the silent night. Dennis steered them as close as he could before dropping anchor. They halted with a slight jerk, and all three exhaled as one.

"If you don't mind, Princess," Dennis said, "I'll be stayin' onboard."

"That's fine." Melissa came back to the rear of the boat and picked up Grojavek. The imp's eyes glowed in the moonlight, and he was staring at the island with obvious fear. "We're here," she told him. "Don't forget that you're helping us now."

Grojavek shook his head. "I won't forget. I promise!"

Wendell kept his opinion on that to himself and helped Dennis ready the rowboat that would take them to shore. The fisherman threw in an extra lantern he had for light and gave Wendell his small, wickedly sharp gutting knife for emergencies. Melissa clambered in with the imp and her knife, and Wendell followed after, catching the rope once the fisherman had untied it. "Wait for us!" he called.

Dennis grimaced, holding out his hands. "How long?"

Wendell shared a silent question with Melissa. "Noon," he finally answered. The fisherman nodded and waved, and the young king wondered if they'd ever see him again.

He fervently hoped so as they rowed towards shore.

"Where is she staying?" Melissa asked Grojavek.

The little imp squeaked and tried to pull away from her, but she had a firm hold on his small body. "In the mountain."

"Inside of it?"

"Yes, yes. I know where. I'll show you."

"How did you get here before?"

"Magic."

Melissa frowned. "Yours?"

"No!" Groj shook his head furiously. "No, no, no. Hers! She got me here." He blinked his round eyes and asked shyly, "You untie me?"

"No way."

Wendell breathed a silent sigh of relief for that and rowed the boat into shore. He leapt out as they got close, as did Melissa, and they pulled it far enough up that it wouldn't be dragged out to sea. Grabbing Grojavek, Melissa stalked forward, the moon lighting their way. It was going to be dark inside that mountain and he thanked Dennis under his breath for the light.

The trio found themselves at the mountain's base only a few feet from shore. It was no where near the size of Dragon Mountain, but knowing they had to free climb it to get to the entrance made it just as imposing.

Resting for a moment, Melissa set Grojavek down and stared at him, her eyes hard. "I'm going to have to untie you so we can get to the entrance. You have to show us, and I can't be holding you to climb."

"Melissa-"

"Be quiet," she ordered Wendell. He felt himself bristle with angry words and bit them back. Getting into an argument here could kill them all. She continued after a pause. "If you betray us, if I even think you're betraying us, I'll kill you."

The imp nodded.

"You'll lead us there, without any tricks, understand?"

"Yes."

Wendell had never seen an imp so subdued. Still, he would make sure to watch him carefully on their trek up.

Melissa used Wendell's knife to cut Grojavek's bonds, and the imp shook his arms and legs out for a minute before he started scampering around the base of the mountain. They hurried after him, alarmed at the speed he was moving, but he soon stopped, pointing at a well-hidden trail.

"Here!" he squeaked, starting again at a slower pace.

It took only a few minutes to realize the trail was not so much a hiking path, but a climbing one. They had to crawl on hands and knees at times to pull themselves up, and after fifteen minutes, Wendell felt sweat running down his back, his shirt sticking to his skin. He wished that he'd worn a lighter shirt, and envied Melissa her short sleeves. He would have shirts like that made for him when he returned to his castle. If I return to my castle, he thought, worried. What if something did happen to him? Had he picked a successor yet? He couldn't remember if he had, and that made him certain that he hadn't. They would probably call Virginia back and give the crown to her, since she was the closest thing Wendell had to a relative. His hand slipped on a rock, leaving his palm with a stinging cut, and he grunted. Climbing up this mountain was not the time to regret not having a family.

They continued up, led by the constant reassurances by the imp that the entrance was this way, if they just went a little bit further. The trail had turned to an almost continuous climb, and they were mostly pulling themselves up now, the waves crashing hungrily at the mountain's edge on this side. Wendell was starting to suspect a trick when Melissa screamed. Rocks bounced down towards him from above, and she slipped down, her feet striking his hands. He let go, falling a couple of feet himself before grabbing onto a boulder jutting out of the mountain's side. Then he heard the ring of metal on stone, and watched the knife bounce past him. Melissa screamed again, a sound of pure despair, and Wendell reached out without thinking to grab the knife before it bounced down and into the water. He felt the blade slice his finger, and then, somehow, he had the handle and he was falling away from Melissa, holding the knife above him. His feet slammed into a stone landing they'd passed, and he felt the bones snap in his foot as his body collapsed on top. He fell to the side, stopping his fall, and the knife clattered out of his hand and skittered a foot away, safe. The throbbing began in his foot, and he pulled his bruised body to a sitting position. Above him, he thought he heard Melissa calling his name, but a haze swathed his senses, muffling sight and sound. Wendell examined his leg and saw the calf and foot were twisted at a monstrous angle and already starting to swell against the confines of his pants and leather boot. Some detached part of himself reminded him how much that was going to hurt to take off and he silently yelled at it. The pain started then, slowly, pulsing with every beat of his heart and then overwhelming even that, driving his heartbeat at its own pace. The subdued throb turned sharp and hot and he wanted to reach down and cut his leg off at the knee to stop the pain.

Melissa landed beside him and when he glanced at her, she was wide-eyed and trembling. "Oh God, Wendell. Are you okay?"

He frowned, not sure how to answer the question.

"Please," she knelt at his side, her hands making soft, flitting movements over his leg without touching it. "Don't die," she breathed.

Wendell smiled, knowing he could answer that. He felt drunk. "I won't." She was crying, and he touched her cheek. "I won't," he repeated.

She wiped her cheeks with shaking fingers. "You can't."

"Then I won't."

It seemed to reassure her because she nodded and looked away from his leg, searching the ground. "Where's the knife?"

His thoughts couldn't keep up with the quick change. "W-What?"

"The knife. It fell, where is it?"

He blinked, searching the ground near him as though he knew what she was talking about, silently wishing she'd help him cut off his leg. The reasoning part of him that was left decided he must have smacked his head and disappeared in helpless fury.

"I found it," she sighed, clutching it to her chest. Her eyes lit on his leg again and she grimaced. "What are we going to do?"

Grojavek scrambled back down and hopped impatiently. "We have to go. She'll know we're here. Come on, come on!"

"But Wendell's injured. He can't continue."

"We have to go."

"I can't just leave him!" Melissa hesitantly touched his ankle and Wendell gasped in agony.

"We have to."

"Will he be safe?"

The imp threw his hands up in the air. "No! She kill us all, if She want to. We have to go!"

Wendell felt her eyes on him, those stormy eyes he loved so much. He couldn't seem to think straight, couldn't seem to get past the excruciating pain in his leg. Melissa was in trouble, he knew that was true in some way, but he couldn't remember exactly why. He knew that she had to go and wished he could go with her. "Leave me," he told her. "You need to." It was as much a question as a statement.

Melissa dropped his gaze, staring down at the knife in her hands. "I have to do this, Wendell," she whispered to him. "I have to." She stood, and Grojavek seemed to run up the side of the mountain. She followed after him, her movements slower and more cautious. Wendell saw her look back at him once, her lovely face worried.

"Melissa?" he murmured, watching her leave him. Where was she going? He thought he was supposed to know that. Her form got smaller and the lantern's light dimmed, and then both disappeared from sight altogether. Wendell was left alone with the sea and the sky and his aching pain.