Ice Crypt (Mermaids of Eriana Kwai Book 2) Page 11

  In the corner, a bookshelf overflowed with chapter books, including some in English, and textbooks on the world wars, animal habitats, the human body, and natural disasters. A poster of the earth’s crust had been taped above a dozen dioramas of earthquakes and volcanoes. Some had clearly been thrown together last minute, while others were clearly assisted by overachieving parents. I thought being a teacher looked kind of fun.

  We stood across from Anyo, not sure where to sit.

  “Come to learn from a retired training master?” he said, bitterness clipping his voice.

  He drew an X on the homework he was marking with enough force to rip a hole in the page.

  “These kids are lucky,” I said.

  Anyo snatched another piece of homework from the stack. “They don’t care.”

  “Come on, a former training master for a teacher?”

  He hesitated, and then grumbled, “I guess I haven’t had problems with kids stepping out of line. Probably scared to.”

  “They want to learn from you,” said Annith.

  He made a violent checkmark.

  “Is that why you’re here? To learn from me? Well, kids, will it be math or science?”

  “Actually,” said Annith, “we were hoping you could teach us a bit of history.”

  Anyo’s pen faltered. The tip hovered over the page, so he wasn’t writing anything but also wasn’t looking at us.

  “Trying to catch up on the high school you missed during training?”

  His tone made it clear he was grasping. He knew where this conversation was headed.

  I followed his eyes to the filing cabinet beside the desk. The bottom drawer gaped open, full of paper and books.

  “We hoped you could tell us about Eriana herself,” I said. “We know she was born mortal, but stories all tell of her as a goddess, not a human.”

  Anyo turned back to his marking. “The story of Eriana is more myth than fact. We don’t teach it anymore.”

  “At all? What about our culture?” I said, voice raising an octave.

  My own agenda aside, the idea that the school board had taken out such an important part of Eriana culture horrified me. Even when I’d been in elementary school, our education on the goddess Eriana was limited to a single picture book in grade two.

  “They can’t do that,” said Blacktail. “Even if it is myth, it’s still part of our history.”

  Anyo shrugged. “It’s the board’s decision, not mine. If you want to take it up with them, I can give you contact information.”

  I crossed my arms. “Who was Eriana as a human? Where did she come from, before she discovered this island?”

  Anyo looked at the filing cabinet again, and then out the window, and then back to the pile of homework on his desk. Finally, he met my eyes.

  “I don’t know anything about the Host.”

  “This isn’t about the Host,” said Annith, but I waved a hand.

  “We didn’t expect you’d know anything about that. We just want to learn more about Eriana. Anything you can tell us.”

  He stared at us, rubbing a calloused hand over his mouth. The clock behind him filled the silence, ticking loudly.

  “I’ve never heard of anything called the Host of Eriana,” he said.

  “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” said Blacktail.

  “Maybe you know it, just not by name,” said Tanuu.

  “What if it is real?” said Annith.

  Anyo took in our determined expressions, probably noting the way we leaned towards him, hanging on his every word. He seemed to be having an internal struggle. I said nothing.

  “Adette is in training,” he said.

  It had crossed my mind that Anyo’s daughter was now outside his control, a generic member of the new training program.

  “I don’t trust Mujihi’s training methods,” he said. “So I can’t pretend the prospect of ending the Massacres doesn’t interest me.”

  “We want to help Adette,” I said. “We want to help all the trainees.”

  His expression revealed nothing. He ran a hand across his scalp. Absently, he traced his fingers along the scar he’d gotten from his days as a Massacre warrior.

  Yes, I thought, we want to avoid more injuries like that one.

  He caught my eye, seemed to realise what he was doing, and sighed. “I can tell you the story of who Eriana was as a mortal. But I don’t think it will help.”

  He motioned for us to sit. We pulled chairs out from the tiny desks and sat down while he opened the second drawer of the filing cabinet. He produced an ancient, barely held-together book and placed it in the centre of the desk.

  Annith, Blacktail, Tanuu, and I leaned closer. The leather cover had a familiar emblem: a sea lion, teeth bared in pursuit of prey. It was our national animal—though it hadn’t had much presence since the mermaids invaded. At some point in the last thirty years, someone had chosen the northern saw-whet owl to grace our flag instead—an animal of the sky, not the sea.

  “I dug this up after you talked to the Massacre Committee,” said Anyo. “My family’s had this book for generations. Have you come across anything like it?”

  Annith and I shook our heads.

  “It’s only pictures, mind you. The stories have been passed orally.”

  He opened it, revealing soft, uneven pages of animal skin parchment. It had a musty odour, like it had been forgotten about in a shed for a few decades. The first page was a colour sketch of a young couple holding a newborn baby, bundled in thick grey and brown furs.

  “The discovery of our land is, of course, said to be the work of one woman named Eriana. Her exact birthplace is unknown. Most historians believe she came from up north, but she might have sailed here from further away, like Russia or Japan.”

  “Where do you think she came from?” said Blacktail.

  “Given the legend and proximity, I think she came from what we now know as Alaska.”

  He flipped the page to a child standing in the snow, hair blowing around her face, encircled by half a dozen bald eagles.

  “Eriana’s people called her a charmer of animals, because from an early age she spoke to them in ways no other human could. She grew up playing with wild hares, pouncing in the snow with foxes, running with herds of caribou. She was known for calling families of eagles to fly circles around her, simply for the joy of feeling their wings. But her skill proved useful, too. If a pack of wolves wandered too close to her people, she could guide them away without evoking so much as a growl.”

  Anyo flipped to a young woman standing before a herd of caribou, surrounded by a world of snow.

  “One year, a rough winter hit Eriana’s people. With it came a terrible spell of hunger. They begged her to summon wild animals to sacrifice themselves for food. Driven by hunger, Eriana complied. She called a herd of caribou and made them wait until, one by one, her people had slain and eaten them all.”

  The next page showed a group of faceless people huddled against a whirling blizzard.

  “But the Gaela did not approve. She had given Eriana this gift of speaking to animals, and was furious that Eriana had cheated the natural order of the animal kingdom. Eriana’s gift, said the Gaela, was meant to bring peace between the species, not deceive innocent creatures. So she sent the Aanil Uusha to punish Eriana.”

  Anyo pointed at the blizzard, and I looked again. The face of Death himself could be seen in the lines of the whirling storm.

  “That night, the Aanil Uusha swept over Eriana’s people in the form of an ice storm. Eriana tried to plea with him, but Death was merciless. He took the lives of her entire tribe. He was about to turn on Eriana herself …”

  He stared at the page for several seconds.

  “But?” I said.

  “The Aanil Uusha thought it would be a better punishment to leave Eriana and let her live her life in guilt. At least, that was how my mother told the tale. This is where the legend diverges. My father said Eriana and Death made a bargain, resulting i
n his agreement to give Eriana her life.”

  “What kind of bargain?” I said.

  Anyo shook his head. “My father didn’t know. That’s why I was always told my mother’s version.”

  I glanced to Annith. So there was a hole in the legend.

  “No one really knows why Eriana survived, then,” said Annith.

  “There is some uncertainty about how she escaped the ice storm,” said Anyo.

  He turned to the next drawing: Eriana on a warship, crashing through stormy seas.

  “As it’s told, the Aanil Uusha built a ship from the bones of her people and the caribou, allowing her to sail away from her barren homeland. She landed on our shores. For the rest of her life, Eriana would fulfill a duty to protect the animals of our island, fending off anyone who dared approach.”

  Anyo sat back. “That ship is now said to lie in the middle of our forest.”

  “The Enticer,” said Tanuu.

  Anyo nodded.

  “The library books said Eriana guarded the island with her warship,” I said. “But the ship can’t be the Host, can it? Don’t you think she would’ve had something more powerful and, well, scary?”

  “Ah,” said Anyo. “That leads me to the reason I dug this book out in the first place.” He pushed the ancient book towards me. “Have a closer look at that drawing.”

  I leaned in.

  “There’s a pair of eyes in the water,” said Blacktail at once.

  She was right. Beneath the ship, something irregular was sketched into the wavy lines representing the stormy ocean. Angry, enormous eyes. They could have been overlooked as swirls in the water, but once I accepted them as a pair of eyes, I couldn’t unsee them.

  Nothing indicated who, or what, they belonged to.

  “Do you think her pet is a sea demon?” said Tanuu. “Maybe the Host is an ancient mermaid deity.”

  I chewed my lip, staring closer. Each eye was larger than Eriana’s head.

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Adaro would never call a mermaid the pet of a human.”

  “Besides, look at the colours,” said Blacktail, pointing. “A sea demon’s eyes are red. These have been drawn to match the colour of the water.”

  I looked to Anyo, who shrugged.

  “As a boy, I remember asking my father about those eyes beneath the ship. He told me it represented the angry sea. Now I wonder if it’s something more—something that fills the gap in the legend.”

  I rocked in my chair, thinking. How much could that story be trusted? Were we supposed to interpret it metaphorically?

  Whatever I thought about the gods of Earth and Death punishing Eriana, the fact was that Eriana had escaped an ice storm that killed everyone else. How? Did it have to do with the Host?

  “Why is it called the Enticer?” I said.

  Anyo rubbed a hand across his scalp. “I assumed Eriana used it to entice fish while she was hunting.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense. I thought her duty was to protect animals, not hunt them.”

  “Then maybe she used it to call them to her for other reasons.”

  I let it drop. The story had gaps, but it also answered several questions.

  “Thanks for showing this to us, Anyo.”

  He snapped it shut. “That’s what I know. Like I said, I’m not sure it helps.”

  It did help. A glance at the others told me they felt the same. Their eyes were wide, excited.

  We had a starting point: the legend of the Host of Eriana had to do with the ancient ship at the Safe Training Base.

  “But how does the story end?” said Annith. “How did Eriana become a goddess?”

  “When Eriana died, after a life of servitude to this island, it’s said the Gaela forgave her. Eriana ascended to the stars to become a goddess, where she remains protector of our island to this day.”

  “Some protector,” said Tanuu, looking up as if addressing the sky. “You could maybe help us out with these sea demons, eh?”

  I smacked him on the arm. “Don’t be disrespectful.”

  Annith was still focused on the book. “Do you mind if we take this?”

  Anyo hesitated. “I’d rather keep the world’s only copy in my possession.”

  “Oh. What other stories are in there?”

  “Nothing more on the topic of Eriana herself.”

  “Why haven’t these stories been shared more widely?” said Blacktail.

  “Perhaps with more recent history to teach, and under the influences from other nations, the school system has considered legends this old to be irrelevant.”

  “But it’s our history,” said Annith. “We need to keep telling it so we don’t lose it.”

  “I’ve told the stories to Adette,” said Anyo. “She’s known them her whole life.”

  No one said anything, but I knew what Annith was thinking. Did anyone else on Eriana Kwai know all these stories? What if Adette died on the Massacre? What if something happened to Anyo?

  “You should get the stories written down somewhere,” said Annith timidly. “In case … I mean, it would be tragic if our history was …”

  A pained expression overcame Anyo’s face.

  “Adette won’t have to go on the Massacre,” I said. “We’ll find the Host.”

  My confidence must have rang through the room, because the others sat up taller.

  “You have a kind heart, Metlaa Gaela,” said Anyo. “Never let this unfair world take that away from you.”

  I gave an almost-smile, not sure what to say.

  He checked the clock on the wall and stood.

  “I wish you luck. For now, all we can do is hope Mujihi proves to be a more effective training master than I ever was.”

  “He won’t be,” said Annith, Blacktail, and I together.

  Anyo turned to slip the book into his bag, and I thought I saw him hide a smile.

  “Before I left, I added a mind and body component to the program,” he said, “for more, ah … mental preparation and soundness. I’ve come to realise such training is woefully lacking.”

  “How’s it going over?” I said.

  His expression sank into a deep frown. “I don’t think the program is following through with it, given that last year’s top combat student is head of training.”

  I jumped up so fast, my chair tipped over with a loud clatter.

  “He put—head of training?”

  Annith and Blacktail caught on at the same moment, gasping in outrage.

  “You haven’t heard?” said Anyo dispassionately. “Yes, Dani was just appointed. I tried to put you in there with her, Metlaa Gaela, but Mujihi has already chosen his other assistant teachers for the program.”

  “Texas, no doubt,” I said, not bothering to hide my venom.

  Anyo shouldered his bag. “You must admit she showed exceptional skill with a range of weapons. Combined with her leadership skills, she could make an excellent teacher.”

  I gaped at him. On the Massacre, Dani had managed to create nothing short of a cult. Those who’d never experienced the worst of Dani called it ‘leadership skills’.

  “You honestly think that?” I said.

  Anyo’s eyes flicked past me. “Ah, speaking of … We were just talking about you.”

  I whirled around to see Dani in the doorway, her wicked expression darkened by black-lined eyes.

  “All good things, I’m sure,” said Dani, casting an appraising glance around the room as she sauntered in.

  “We’re on our way out,” I said. “Sorry to have missed your visit.”

  Dani made a sympathetic sound. “We’ll catch up later.”

  She straddled the chair I’d just been sitting on, facing Anyo, and motioned that he should sit back down. He obliged, dropping his bag.

  Annith closed the door behind us with a little too much force.

  The moment we were outside, Blacktail whispered, “What was she doing there?”

  Annith and I said nothing.

  “Sh
e was probably going to ask for advice about the training program,” said Tanuu lightly.

  The rest of us shared an uneasy look.

  “You don’t know Dani,” I said.

  “What, you think she was eavesdropping?”

  I didn’t respond.

  “She really won’t want the Massacres to end now,” said Annith. “She’s in a position of power over like, a hundred girls.”

  The idea sickened me. If the potential for glory hadn’t driven her mad enough on the Massacre, it would now. The success of every future Massacre could come back to her training methods.

  What would she accomplish as head of an entire training school? Her captaincy on the Massacre had been a gradual climb to power because she’d met opposition from me and other crewmembers. Now, every one of these trainees would be desperate to prove her worth in training, and do anything to make Dani like her.

  Tanuu cracked his knuckles. “Let’s do this thing quick, before she can go all crazy on those trainees. Let’s go to the Enticer.”

  “We can’t go right now,” I said. “Mujihi is probably still there. I don’t like the idea of asking him if he minds if we have a poke around the training base.”

  “When do we go, then?” said Annith.

  I thought for a minute. “We’ll want daylight, which means we’ll need to go when the trainees are on a rest day.”

  But would the trainees even have rest days? I felt like the word ‘rest’ was not in Dani’s vocabulary.

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” said Blacktail.

  “What if Dani shows up again while we’re there?” said Annith.

  “We won’t be stealing anything this time,” said Tanuu. “There’s nothing to get us in trouble for. It’s not like the training area’s outta bounds.”

  “You weren’t there when Mujihi was yelling at us,” I said.

  Annith grimaced.

  “Sounds like we need to get him and Dani out of the way,” said Blacktail.

  We pondered this as we walked down the dirt road. That was exactly what we needed.

  “What if we told Dani she got some Heroes of Eriana Kwai award, and she has to go to the other side of the island to pick it up?” said Tanuu.