Thalassa's Tide

Chapter One

The Whispers of Salt and Sickness

The sun beat down on me as I moved with caution over the beach, every sense on high alert as I followed the tracks left in the sand. Sweat ran down the nape of my neck and across my spine where the thin linen smock I wore hung away from my skin. The contrast between my light blue complexion and the dyed gray of my dress made me feel like I was channeling the sky after a storm had cleared. I nearly tripped over a driftwood log and the bag slung over my shoulder shifted slightly. I hissed out a breath as I stumbled. Silence was essential if this mission was going to be anything resembling successful.

I had found the tracks that morning on my way to get water from the well, but it had been midday before I could sneak away from my older sister and finally follow them. I could already hear the speech she would give me if she knew what I was doing.

“Thalassa Neptune, I know you are not going out again to hunt down some massive beast that would rather eat you for dinner! Don’t you have other things to do with your time?” Her voice trailed through my thoughts, reciting a lecture I had heard a thousand and one times throughout my life. She would still give me a similar speech when I returned, but at that point, I would have already accomplished my task.

She hated it when I disappeared to follow a creature or take notes on a tree. In her mind, it was all a waste of time and my energy would be better spent helping the community. My heart squeezed with pain as I thought of how much my sister disapproved of my obsession with the ocean’s inhabitants. I couldn’t help it. Ever since I could remember, the sea and the creatures who called it home have lured me.

I reached the end of the beach and the beginning of the mangrove forest and bit my lip, looking back over my shoulder as if I expected to see Tide marching across the shore to me with her hand on her hip in frustration. It was not really fair to her. I knew she was trying her best since our parents had died of the blight three years ago. It could not have been easy for her to take in her thirteen-year-old sister when she was barely an adult herself. Never mind that I was half wild, spending more of my time watching tidal basins or following sea turtles than doing chores or my studies.

I tried to make it easier for her. I did. But I could not ignore the pulsing need to find out. I wanted to document and catalog every aspect of the ocean and its organisms. I hungered to know why the tide moved as it did, leaving pools of creatures behind. It ate my soul up not to have a name for the strange fish that shoved its face up at me from the sand sometimes. So I eased that ache by documenting everything else I could about it and any other living things I found. My mother had always said it was because water was in our blood. We were the water Lementi, created by the goddess Kadite herself out of the oceans, rivers, and lakes of the world. She used to spin stories of my grandmother, a powerful guardian of the natural order, and all the adventures she had before settling down with my grandfather in our small coastal town of Porthaven.

I froze at a growling noise, my fingers digging into the mangrove root I was perched on as I scanned my area for its source. My eyes locked on a pair of bright green ones as I took in the large lizard-like beast, making a hissing growl ten feet in front of me. As I had suspected, it was a giant crocodile, bigger than any I had seen before. From nose to tail, the creature had to be at least thirty feet long. Behind it, in a clearing, was an oval nest with a dozen white eggs nestled together. Oh Tunir damn me. She was a mother. My heart pounded violently in my chest, nearly drowning out the sound of her.

“Shhh, I mean no harm,” I whispered in the ancient tongue, Silvan. It was the language of nature and beasts, and I spoke it better than my native one most of the time. The creature cocked its head to the side, understanding my words innately, as all-natural things did. Still, she did not relax as I crouched, watching her. She was gorgeous. A long body coated in hard armor, and four short, angled legs holding her light underbelly about two inches above the ground. Her feet had claw-tipped fingers, and as she opened her mouth to continue her growling and hissing, a row of dangerous white fangs filled the inside. She was terrifying and undeniably beautiful.

My eyes locked on the red pool forming under her left paw. It was why I was following her tracks, the scarlet trail that accompanied her steps. I needed her to relax some for me to get close enough to aid her. Adrenaline pumping through me, I held up my hands.

“You’ve been injured. Let me help.” I said in the smooth, lilting language. She twisted her head from side to side and then glanced back at the nest. Understanding her concern, I nodded. “I will not harm them. Just allow me to treat your pain.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the dead fish I had stolen from the fishing boats that morning. I tossed it high into the air, watching it arch across the mangrove forest and land with a splat in front of her. She snapped it up quickly, clearly hungry. I smiled at her sadly, expecting as much. She kept watching me as she chewed.

Slowly, I let myself slide down the root, well aware that she could choose to end my life in a second. The salty smell of the muddy ground filled my nostrils as I made myself as unthreatening as possible. Her eyes never left mine as I moved ever closer. I continued to murmur low words of reassurance, moving around her, so she stayed between me and her nest. When I was within striking distance, I dragged another fish out of my bag and offered it to her. She snapped it up eagerly, revealing that her injury must have been keeping her from hunting effectively for a while.

As She ate, I inspected the large gash along her leg that looked like it was festering and quite infected. Dark crimson oozed from what was obviously not a fresh injury. I reached in and pulled out the medicinal tonic I had bargained for with the apothecary. Patting away the pus and blood, I cleaned the cut as well as I could. Then I washed it with the last of the water from my canteen to help. The crocodile sucked in a gasp as it flowed across her skin, but she did not snap at me. I could smell the foul scent from her wound, and it churned my stomach. I kneeled in the mud, uncaring that it would ruin my dress. Slowly, I poured the healing potion into her laceration.

I watched in wonder as her cut healed itself; armor and flesh knitting back together. The crocodile made a strange sound that I realized was relief as she placed her weight on her leg. I looked up at her with my heart pounding and a smile on my face. The raging hisses and growls she had greeted me with. Instead, a low, contented vibrating purr seemed to emanate from her. Slowly, I reached out, giving her plenty of time to pull away, and settled a hand on her snout. She bumped her face up into me and then jerked her head back to her nest. I followed her gaze, watching as the eggs shook.

I almost moved back, allowing her space with her young, but she pressed her nose against me, pushing me towards the nest.

“You want me to look?” I asked in the natural tongue. She blinked at me before nudging me again. With my heart hammering in my chest and adrenaline filling my every vein, I approached the nest, looking over at the eggs now jumping and moving as tiny creatures fought for freedom from the inside. I felt something in me stir, a cord of power wrapping itself into my spirit. The sensation took my breath away and had me shaken. The feeling grew, tightening around my chest as I watched the hatchlings break free. Suddenly, as if the understanding of my reality shifted on its axis, I could feel the threads of magic and nature. Watching with awe as new life entered the world, I recognized the force inside me. Magic. I glanced down at my fingers, shocked to see iridescent light emanating from them. I gasped and then looked back at the hatchlings.

One egg remained unhatched. Moving closer to the nest, I was hyper-aware of their mother’s movements beside me. I looked over at her and her worry was palpable to my new power. We continued to watch as the sun moved across the sky, and still, the last egg remained as the other babies moved around, blind and confused. Looking over at the mother, I reached out to the egg, feeling a fading pulse of life inside. I scooped it into my hands and a shudder of despair ran through my body as I realized the creature inside was on the verge of life and death. Something inside me demanded I help.

I tugged on the new thread of energy weaving itself into the fiber of my being and felt it vibrate. The glowing iridescent light in my palms spiked, and I gasped in shock as it surrounded the egg. I twisted the energy, uncertain but determined. The light shifted in color, taking on a green hue. I gasped as I felt it flood out of my body and into the egg. In my hands, it began weakly twitching. Carefully, I pulled out a small knife from my bag while still balancing the egg in my other hand.

The crocodile watched me as I used the very tip of the knife to cut a small slit in the egg. Once I made the slit, I dropped the knife into the mud and gingerly set the egg back in the nest. A small snout poked its way through the cut and then eventually a creature no longer than my palm emerged. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. It looked similar to the others, but it was off. For one, its scales were not the same green and brown hues as its siblings, but a deep, dull black. It was also missing its left back leg. I gasped and looked over at the mother. Maybe I imagined the despair in her eyes, but I did not imagine the resolute way she shifted her attention from the small squeaking thing in the center of the nest to the other eleven newborns moving around in uncertainty. The one I helped hatch was not moving nearly as much as the others.

“I will take him,” I whispered to her, but she did not look back at me. I scooped the baby into my hand. Still, she ignored me, sniffing at her other children. Cradling the fledgling crocodile to my chest, I backed up slowly, retracing my path out of the mangrove. Once I was back at the root, I had originally seen the mother from, I turned around and made a slow, clumsy path back to my house, coated in mud.