When a Bird Loved a Fish

Book 1. Chapter 1.

Book 1.

The Merboy and the Canary

Chapter 1.

The hands that gripped the jagged, slippery rocks were cut and torn. The droplets of blood turned to tiny red icicles as they trickled down from his wounds. The sleet and snow stung his eyes and blurred his vision. He had only emerged from the water seconds ago, but already his long, braided hair was a frozen mass of solid sea water. Yet his head and neck were hot and flushed and his brow was wet with perspiration. The top, he needed to get to the top of the crater no matter what. If only he had a pair of legs to help him.

The wind around him wailed and moaned. It gathered up the dark sea water into a foaming, roaring wave and tossed it as his figure with all its might. Knowing he was no match for the wind and water, Song let go of the rocks and dove back into the angry sea before the wave could hit him.

He'd already lost count how many times he'd tried to scale those rocks. He was losing strength. It was now or never. Even though hell and high water had both come against him, he would still reach the top of that crater. Song swam deep into the depths of the sea. Then he turned and, flexing the muscles of his fish-like tail, he used all his strength to propel himself back to the surface. This time, this time he would leap high enough. Closer and closer he came to the surface and with all the force he could muster he shot out of the water and soared through the air.

The force with which he slammed into the cliff told him he might have overestimated himself. The good news was he had leapt almost to the top of the cliff. His hands grasped the edge that formed the crater and he winced as the sharp rocks cut into his fingers. A wave struck him from behind, the droplets stinging him like hundreds of thousands of needles. Song felt his body shaking from the attack. The knuckles on his hand whitened as he fought to keep his grip on the edge of the cliff. Now was not the time to succumb to the powers of nature no matter how merciless they were.

The water withdrew at his staunch persistence, but it was only milliseconds before it would launch another attack. Song inhaled, grit his teeth, tensed his arm muscles and pulled himself up over the edge. He landed into the crater just as the next wave crashed over the rocks. So vengeful was it, so full of indignation that a mere boy of the merfo tribe was gaining victory over it, that in its fury it nearly toppled Song over the other edge. He managed to catch himself and hold tight to the edges of the crater. His breathing was heavy, his whole body shaking, his hands were bleeding, the water droplets that covered him were steadily turning to ice, but that didn't matter. He'd won. He'd made it to the top.

The wind and sea had to accept the determination of the merfolk boy and in a moment of respect they retreated. A moment was all Song needed. He cupped his tremoring, bloody hand and, dipping it into the salty water trapped in the cliff's crater, retrieved the limp, lifeless body of the yellow bird that he had fought against the elements to rescue.

This action caused the wind to howl and the sea to rise again. To win in a fair fight was one thing, to steal that which the winter water and the winter wind had already claimed as their own was another. Out of the corner of his eye, Song saw another wave coming his way. The water foamed white with anger and dark green with indignation. Covering his treasure with his free palm, Song turned and with a push from his tail dove straight into the churning waters.

Coming back to the surface, Song cast a momentary glance at the barren cliff jutting out of the North Sea like old and forgotten gravestones. The waves slammed against them, sending the white foam spraying everywhere. Due to the positions of the cliffs the wind always moaned and the water always thrashed. Children of the Merfolk Tribe were not allowed to go there on their own. Song now understood why. If word got out that he had not only been there and came out alive, but climbed cliffs with just the strength of his arms, the other children would pretty much worship the water he swam in.

On the other hand his father would beat the life out of him. So it would be better not to keep this whole adventure a secret for the time being.

Song uncupped his hands and brought the little creature closer to his face. It was a bird. A small, yellow bird. Song brought it to his face, wondering if it was still alive. He gently breathed out warm air on it. The little belly moved up and down just slightly. "If you are breathing then you must be still alive," he whispered. "But you need a fire to warm you up. I'm a creature of the sea, and I've never built a fire before, but Second Uncle can help you."

Song looked up at the sky. Night was approaching fast and the temperature was steadily dropping. Covering the bird once more with his palm, the merboy dove back into the water and put every ounce of what was left of his strength into swimming towards the cliffs that rose from the rocky shore. His head ached, his tail was stiff, his poor hands screamed from the torture he had put them through, but he had little time for all that. He needed to get back to the Inner Core and time was of the essence. The little body in his hands was not a sea creature and Song hadn't just risked his life only to have it drown all over again.