Ice Massacre Page 4

  The school bell sounded, and the class hesitated before standing. My own problems dropped like stones. The Homecoming bell never rang today. Miss Paige bowed her head, maybe owing the sailors a moment of silence before we were dismissed.

  “There’s still the evening,” Annith whispered to me, sounding forcibly hopeful.

  But the whole way back down the dirt road, through the bush and across the beach to my meeting place with Lysi, the Homecoming bell still didn’t ring.

  Lysi jumped on me as usual, but I wasn’t paying attention and didn’t even see her.

  I laughed and pushed her off me, but she seemed to sense something wasn’t right. She studied my face with her thin eyebrows knitted together.

  “The bell didn’t ring today,” I said.

  She continued to stare at me in confusion. I realised I hadn’t known her long enough for her to understand what that meant. “Our sailors were supposed to come back from . . . um . . .”

  I couldn’t finish the sentence without looking down. She knew about the Massacre, anyway. I fixed my eyes on the dark rocks beneath my legs, wet from where we’d splashed them and continuing to dampen in the mist.

  “Oh,” she said after a moment. “Well, I hope they come back. For your sake.”

  I looked up at her and smiled a little.

  She didn’t smile back. “They’ve killed our troops. A lot of mermaids haven’t returned.”

  “When did the last ones get sent out?” I said, wondering if the ship got attacked since the lighthouse sighting yesterday.

  She shrugged. “A few days ago. The attacks start once a ship gets close to the army base, near Utopia. Then they go out in hordes until . . . well . . .”

  I bit my lip, imagining swarms of mermaid warriors attacking our ships. A few minutes passed where neither of us said anything, and the sharp, cold rocks pressed into the backs of my legs.

  I took my gumboots off and dipped my bare feet in the tide pool, wanting to bury my toes in the rough sand.

  “Lysi?” I said, breaking what looked like a serious thought process. Her hard expression softened a little when our eyes met. “Why are mermaids even here? Why didn’t you all stay in the Atlantic?”

  Her mouth fell open, and I quickly added, “Not that I don’t want you here! I’m happy you’re here. I’m just curious.”

  “Well,” she said, rolling onto her stomach in the lukewarm tide pool, “my parents came over when the Ice Channel melted.”

  “I knew that already. We call it the Northwest Passage. But why didn’t they stay in the Atlantic?”

  “My mama and papa said Adaro didn’t like the way the Atlantic Queen was ruling. So he came to the Pacific to make Utopia.”

  “Adaro is your king?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened? Did he get a divorce from the Queen?”

  “No. Adaro was never King before. I don’t know who he was before he came here.”

  “So now that he’s made Utopia, why doesn’t he stop attacking sailors?”

  She grimaced, but didn’t answer.

  “He should know my people are going hungry because—”

  “Well, humans have land to live on.”

  She pushed her jaw forwards, and I thought she looked a little angry. I averted my eyes to a piece of seaweed lodged in her coppery blonde hair.

  Part of me knew that was true, but part of me was appalled that she didn’t care about my people being attacked.

  “We need to eat fish, too,” she said.

  “Isn’t there enough to share?”

  She dropped her gaze, looking uncomfortable.

  I stared at her lashes. She waved her tail up and down, making ripples that dampened the rocks on the other side of the tide pool.

  “You would also get in big trouble if someone found out we were friends, wouldn’t you?” I said quietly.

  Her eyebrows pulled down and her shoulders slumped, but then she threw herself at me in an icy-cold hug that smelled like brine.

  “All the kings and Massacres in the world couldn’t make me stop being friends with you, Mee.”

  I giggled and squeezed her back.

  She pulled away and smoothed my hair down affectionately. “One day there won’t be any Massacres.”

  The thought lifted my spirits, until I remembered Homecoming. Mama would need my company. I stuffed my gumboots in my backpack. “I better go help make dinner.”

  “Wait.” Her icy fingers clamped around my wrist.

  “Ouch!” I said before I could stop myself, and she let go quickly.

  I rubbed my wrist, surprised at her strength.

  Lysi picked up a rock. “I just wanted to show you . . .”

  She stacked a few rocks on top of each other. “This will help us visit. I’ll make a pile of rocks when the tide is up, and when the tide is down and you see it, you’ll know I’m close.”

  I returned her smile, and with it a promise that this was our special secret.

  We said goodbye and I traipsed back to the road, shivering against the biting wind. I’d never thought so much about merpeople before, and I started wondering about other things I’d never thought to ask Lysi. Were there countries beneath the water? How long had merpeople lived in the Atlantic? How did they cross the Northwest Passage when the water was so cold?

  Mama was quiet when I got home, and I put on my best cheerful face as I helped her make rice and cabbage for dinner. But the Homecoming bell still didn’t ring, and Mama’s face wilted, and she moved slower and slower. And I remembered the time my brother didn’t come back.

  “You said Nilus would still come home one day, right?” I said. “Maybe this is it. Maybe this year’s sailors found him while they were on the Massacre.”

  I thought the hope of seeing her son again would make her happier, but she said nothing. I wondered if that was the wrong thing to say.

  The front door banged open and I screamed, dropping the lid for the pot of rice. Papa stormed across the kitchen, heading straight for me. I jumped off my chair and backed away from his dark eyes.

  “Where is it, Metlaa Gaela?”

  “Papa?” I tried to look innocent—but I already knew. My insides clenched painfully.

  “You know what I’m talking about.” His voice boomed through our small house. “Bring it to me or I will turn your room inside out and dig it up myself.”

  How did he know? Who told him?

  My eyes burned as I put my head down and went to my room. Papa followed me, giving me no privacy as I opened my closet, reached for the back corner, and dug up the shoebox I’d hid so carefully. I pulled out the necklace and turned to him.

  His face was purple. His calloused, dirt-creased hand trembled as he took it from me. Mama stood behind him, ghostly pale, and she nodded to me solemnly.

  “Do you have any idea how you’ve shamed this family?” Papa’s voice was so angry it made my lips quiver. “The sea is our enemy. It’s an inferno, not a pretty pool of water we cherish and make jewellery from.”

  My eyes sprung with tears. I wanted desperately to tell him he was wrong, that the ocean was not an inferno, that it was the most beautiful place, filled with coral and orcas and friendship. But I’d learned long ago never to talk back to Papa.

  “The entire Pacific Ocean has been infested with sea demons since I was a boy, and our people have suffered because of it.” He shook the necklace in his fist as he talked, and the delicate seaweed began to fray. “Don’t you wonder why we need to import food from the mainland? Don’t you wonder why this island is slipping into poverty? Sea demons! Mermaids! They steal our food, sink our ships, murder our children!”

  I closed my eyes, wishing he would be swept away by the hollow wind blowing at my window. Nothing he could say would change what I knew about Lysi.

  “You put yourself in serious danger by going near the beach, Metlaa Gaela. One swipe by a mermaid and you’ll be gone forever. They’ll feed on your skin and bones like a wolf on a rabbit.”


  “That’s not true! They’re not all evil,” I shouted, the words bursting from my mouth.

  His eyes widened, and his face grew an even deeper shade of purple.

  “You don’t know what I’ve seen.” He whispered, probably because if he spoke any louder it would erupt from his mouth in a roar that would be heard across the island. “Do not forget about my Massacre. I won’t let you take that pride away from this family.”

  The door slammed, leaving me alone in my room.

  His Massacre. I lost count of how many times he’d bragged about it. The year he was chosen, the sailors killed more mermaids than ever.

  “Five hundred and four kills,” he always said. “The vermin stopped coming after two weeks! There hasn’t been another Massacre like it.”

  How could he think mermaids were demons? How could Lysi be a killer? I didn’t believe it.

  “I hate you,” I mumbled.

  I swiped the tears from my cheeks and flopped on my bed. I wanted to shout after him that he couldn’t take away my things. That necklace was mine.

  How did he find out about it? Did someone see me with it? Or did Annith tell someone? She would never. We’d kept each other’s secrets for years, and I’d never known Annith to be a snitch.

  The only other person who saw the necklace was Dani.

  I sat up. Dani. It had to be her. She was jealous the moment she saw it. She probably ran straight home and told her papa, who told mine. The two of them did work together at the woodshop, after all.

  Everything made sense. That was why she stayed so quiet for the rest of the day: she had planned to tell her papa, knowing I would get in trouble for it later.

  I looked out the window where the sky was darkening and the trees began to look grey, and I swore I would get her back for it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Shipped Home

  The day I met Lysi was the third time I’d ventured to the edge of the beach without permission. For the third time, I felt peaceful as I listened to the splashing waves, delighted as I watched the seagulls float on their bellies, exhilarated as the pebbles massaged the soles of my feet.

  It happened nearly a year ago. I had gone there to look for my brother. Maybe I would find him swimming to shore or docking a makeshift raft, and he would come running to me with his beard scruffy and his pants torn at the knees, and he would tell me he missed me and he was glad to be home after being lost for so long.

  I’d spotted a body lying at the edge of the water, half submerged, waves crashing over it. A cluster of seagulls watched curiously from the surrounding boulders as the figure rocked back and forth.

  I hesitated for only a moment before sprinting down to the water. Was it Nilus?

  The skin glistened white against the dark rocks—much too fair, after all. What if it was another sailor, stolen by the sea from somebody else’s family?

  As I approached, forced to move slowly over the jagged stones on my bare feet, I could make out the limp body as that of a girl—a young one, maybe my age. Thick locks of coppery blonde hair fell across her shoulders and tangled around her neck like a noose. It was laced with seaweed and looked like it hadn’t been brushed in months, and although darkened by water, I could tell it would be a most beautiful shade of gold when dry.

  I only knew a handful of families with skin so pale. Had I found a castaway from the mainland?

  “Hey,” I said softly. She didn’t stir. A thick rope was wrapped around her; some was draped across the sand and I couldn’t tell how much was still in the water.

  The pungent smell of the ocean met my nose—salt and seaweed and water as old as the earth itself—but I didn’t know anymore if I smelt the ocean or a dead body. How long had this girl been here? I shivered, only partly because of the breeze coming off the water.

  When I stepped sideways to try and see her face, my throat tightened. I instinctively stepped back. Where the girl’s legs should have been was a long tail, greenish-brown in colour and scaly, like a salmon. I studied the tail, but I had to look away when my breathing grew panicked.

  She was the myth I’d heard about. Her kind was the reason my brother went out to sea in the first place, to never come back. A sea demon.

  As I watched her body rock in the waves, I suddenly didn’t understand why my people wanted to kill the sea demons. Why would a grown man kill a little girl, even if she was only half of a little girl?

  Her face was so smooth and gentle that I found myself touching my own nose and cheekbones and eyebrows, wishing I were that pretty.

  I studied the rope around her small body. A fishing net. The mesh entangled her so tight, it left red lines on her ivory skin. I reached down and touched her. Her skin was icy, not a degree different from the water.

  Hands trembling, I was about to pronounce her dead when her stomach moved. She was breathing.

  “Hey,” I said, excitement in my voice. “You’re alive. Wake up.”

  I rubbed her arm, trying uselessly to warm her up.

  Her eyes opened and she looked right at me. Her irises were sapphire blue, brighter than any I’d seen on a human.

  I knew right then we would be friends forever.

  “I’ll help you,” I said, though I knew she couldn’t understand.

  I pulled her gently from the water, not sure if mermaids could drown. I ran back to the house as fast as I could to get a knife.

  Taking extra care not to pull too hard or catch her with the blade, I cut the net away. She stared, wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure if I was trying to help or hurt her. When I finished, she kept her gaze on me until I set down the knife and smiled.

  She sought out my hand and pressed her palm against mine, stretching her fingers skywards. When I stretched my own fingers and she saw the way our hands lined up, brown skin against white, she returned a hesitant smile. She closed her fingers around my hand as though in way of thanks, then dove back into the water with grace I’d never seen. She left me staring after her with a strange, exciting mix of awe and fear bubbling in my chest.

  We’d both returned to that spot the next night. Since then, we came back to see each other nearly every day, and, over time, I taught her to speak Eriana. We knew our friendship would go severely punished—but not for a second did that stop us.

  I didn’t realise I’d fallen asleep when an annoying and repetitive sound woke me up. My hands reached groggily for my pillow. I threw it over my head to try and smother myself in silence.

  My door burst open. I flung my pillow off and bolted upright, my heart jumping into action.

  “Meela, get up.”

  It was Mama.

  “What?” My own voice boomed in my ears.

  “The bell. Homecoming.”

  My feet hit the cold floor. Blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. The bell. The sailors. They’d made it.

  I pulled my favourite sweater from my closet. Once belonging to Nilus, it was four sizes too big and worn thin with age. I threw it on, following the sound of Mama crashing around in the entrance. Papa already waited there, wearing clean jeans and a button-down shirt, watching Mama pull gumboots over her bare feet.

  When he saw me, he said, “Let’s go,” and opened the door to lead us through the mist. It clung to my face and bare feet like a damp cloth, and I was glad the rest of me was warmly bundled.

  I instinctively looked in the direction of the ocean as we walked, but of course I couldn’t see it through the trees and the darkness.

  Nobody said anything as we followed the main road to the docks. I wanted to ask questions, but something told me it was not the time. The bell grew louder, its slow gongs reminding me of an old and broken clock ringing long past twelve.

  When we rounded the bend out of the forest, the docks and the black water came into view beneath a floodlight. Knots of families already filled the edge of the dim halo of light, and hundreds more still approached. The spectators always stood on a hill that dropped down to the water, so even kids could see over the heads of the
adults in front of us. Part of me wished I couldn’t see at all.

  The large brass bell clanged loudly now. A boy I didn’t recognise rang it with both hands. He looked frail and tired, even from afar.

  The black water stretched outwards until it blended with the horizon, leaving the world in front of us desolate—if not for the soft, lonely glow in the distance. Something was definitely coming. The light flashed in a rhythm set by Eriana Kwai: one, two, one-two-three; one, two, one-two-three. It was our ship.

  Everyone stayed cautiously away from the water’s edge. I thought we could get closer for a better view, but when I looked up at Mama, her face was crinkled and pale. Papa’s was hard as stone. Neither of them looked at me. I supposed Mama and Papa did know some of the boys who were sent away, even if I didn’t.

  So I turned back to the sea and watched the light grow larger. One, two, one-two-three.

  And the bell continued to toll. Gong, gong, gong.

  My feet grew numb and I began to shiver, so I curled my toes in and out over the sharp bits of gravel to try and warm them. I glanced behind me. Probably a couple thousand of us were huddled together—about half the island—and more gathered in the shadows. Nobody spoke.

  “All hands,” someone yelled, startling me. I snapped my head forwards and watched five men stomp onto the docks, ready to help tie the ship.

  The crowd seemed to hold its breath, and I wondered if they thought mermaids would attack the men on the dock. I looked up at Mama again, but her expression hadn’t changed.

  The ship drifted in slowly to avoid snagging its bottom on the shallow rocks. It scraped along anyway, but a bit of rocks against the bottom was nothing compared to what it had faced over the last month. The decayed mainsail fluttered, wind hissing through gashes taller than me. Patches on the mast and railing looked darker than others. Craters. Every wave seemed about to sink the fragile ship.

  None of it mattered now. The few Massacre ships that made it back got retired.

  I knew a ship would normally be anchored a safe distance away, and a smaller boat would be used to bring the sailors to shore, but someone must have decided there was greater danger in putting sailors in a tiny unprotected boat by themselves.