A Merman's Vow(Sequel to A Mermaid's Cry)

Prologue-A Tale By Tavern Light

A vicious storm had arrived to the mainland, a ferocious barrage of wind and rain circling outside the old salt covered buildings of Port Allure. Shutters trembled against the violent gales, candles flickered inside their lanterns, and flames danced within the confines of fireplaces. With the storm blowing through, all the inhabitants of the port scurried to the nearest shelter. For two young souls, clad in nothing but thin cotton garments and brown hooded cloaks, they found refuge at the one lone tavern in all of Port Allure.

The smell of cooking pottage, fresh bread, and stale ale greeted the waterlogged duo. One of the barmaids quickly spotted the new arrivals, her old heart twisting at the sight of the hooded boys who appeared no older than six years. Gliding past the crowded tables, and a whispering couple at the bar, the barmaid makes her way over to the boys with a flurry of graying hair and black trimmed skirts.

"Come with me lads," she croons, extending a hand toward a small bench by the roaring fire. "We best get you warm and dry before you both catch your deaths."

The boys hurriedly scamper over to the offered seating. Small puddles forming as they skitter by the loud men laughing, cursing, and betting on the stained cards in their callused hands. As the two children settle themselves on the bench, a breathy laugh perks their heads up to a shadowed corner by a window draped with heavy canvas curtains.

A small table lies pressed against the window and weathered wall, bearing the weight of a slim gray cat and an opened leather bound book. The lads watch the book's owner turn the snow hued page, a smile painting the young woman's face as her small fingers settle upon the delicate edge of the paper. A spout of lighting turns thier attention towards the window, watching the jagged ray of light twist and crack above the roiling waves crashing against the hulls of anchored ships. A roar of thunder swiftly follows, and to the surprise of the wizened barmaid, the young lads are not startled by the sound but seem to relax while the other patrons either jolt slightly or quiver with unease.

"Easy there gents," an old man from the table behind the boys drawls, sipping from the mug of ale in front of him without a care in the world. "The storm will pass on soon enough, 'sides there be more frightening things than a bit of ol' thunder and lightning."

"Like what?" one of his fellow drinking partners questions, taking a hefty swig from his own mug and letting out a throaty belch.

The old man leans back in his seat, the aged wood creaking like hollow bones. Crossing his legs, he settles his fingers on his stomach, callused knuckles snagging slightly on the well worn cotton dotted with specks of salt.

"On a night like this there is only one thing that comes to mind," he utters whistfully, angling his gaze towards the flickering fire, the glow of the embers, to the twin lads' inquisitive eyes, turning the old man's gaze into orbs of long faded gold.

"And that is?" another fellow seaman questions, leaning forward slightly upon the chipped table. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, his brow scrunched amid the wrinkles scoured across his sun dotted flesh.

The old man pauses, for a moment. Tilting his head upwards, gazing up at the creaking rafters above. The room seems to quiet down, the clinking of rum bottles, creaking of chairs, and the laugh littered murmuring of curses ceasing their noise. A still and utter silence, all waiting upon this single man's answer. One that is unexpected, as it is a terrifying reminder of what waits beyond the docks of Port Allure.

"A mermaid."

"Your telling tales," another seaman scoffs, shaking his head in utter disbelief at the words falling out of the old man's mouth. "Ain't no such things as mermaids and even if there were, they could never measure up to the fury of what's outside."