Amos Daragon_ The Mask Wearer - Bryan Perro [3]
That’s the way these birds fly when another animal is dying, he thought. They’ll feed on the corpse. Maybe it’s a big fish or a stranded whale. This dead crow wasn’t lucky. He probably broke his neck on the rock.
As he carefully looked around for a helpless animal, Amos saw three more crows at the entrance of the grotto, but these were alive. Their eyes seemed riveted inside the cavern, as if they were trying to make sense of something in the belly of the rocky wall. Amos was approaching to find out what was going on when he heard a piercing scream. It came from the depths of the cavern; the frightening sound paralyzed the birds. They fell dead on the spot.
Amos himself was knocked down—as if hit by a strong blow—by the intensity of the scream. He lay curled up, his heart beating madly. His legs refused to move. He had never heard such a noise. The scream, which seemed both human and animal, had to have been shrieked by powerful vocal cords.
Then Amos heard a woman’s voice, as soft as a melody, and he came out of his daze. It was as if a lyre, hidden deeply in the grotto, had begun to play.
“Don’t be scared, young man. I am not an enemy,” the voice said.
Amos raised his head and got back on his feet. He left his buckets where he had dropped them.
“I’m in the grotto. Come quickly; I am waiting for you. I won’t hurt you. I screamed only to scare the birds away.”
Gingerly, Amos approached the opening. The woman kept talking, her words sounding like a symphony of bells to Amos’s ears.
“Have no fear. I am suspicious of the birds because they are nosy and rude,” she said. “They spy, and they love to eat fish far too much to be trusted. When you see me, you’ll understand what I mean. I’ll tell you again that I intend no harm. Come quickly now; I don’t have much time left.”
Amos entered the grotto, feeling his way in the dark toward the voice. Suddenly, a soft blue light wrapped itself along the ground and uneven walls. Small puddles of water glistened. All the humidity of the cavern sparkled. It was magical. Each drop had its own shade of blue. This light filled the inside of the grotto, and Amos felt as if he were walking over a moving fluid.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the voice went on. “This is the light of my people. Everyone where I come from can create light out of salt water. Turn around—I’m here, very close by.”
Amos turned. When he saw the creature, it took all his courage not to run away. In front of him, stretched out in a small puddle of water, was a mermaid. Her long hair was the pale color of the reflected light of sunset on the ocean. She wore an armor of shellfish on her strongly muscled torso, and Amos thought he could see a cloth woven of algae between the armor and her skin. Her nails were long and sharp. A huge, wide fish tail ended her impressive body. Close to her was a weapon, an ivory trident, probably sculpted out of a narwhal tusk, decorated with light red coral.
“I can see fear in your eyes. Don’t be afraid.” The mermaid smiled. “I know that mermaids have a bad reputation among humans. Your legends say that we charm sailors to lure them to the bottom of the sea. These legends are not true. It’s the merriens—sea creatures who resemble mermaids but who are repulsively ugly and brutal—who do this. The merriens use their voices to cast spells and ensnare seamen. Then they devour their victims, pilfer their cargos, and create storms to sink the ships that they use as dwellings deep in the ocean.”
As she spoke, Amos noticed large cuts in her armor.
“Are you wounded?” he asked. “I’m sure I can help you. Let me go to the forest. I know some plants that could heal you.”
“You’re kind,” the mermaid said. “Unfortunately, I am doomed to die soon. I was in a battle with merriens and my wounds are deep. At home, way down in the ocean, the