The Merman and the Barbarian Pirate Read Online Free PDF Page A

but he wasn't that stupid.
    He dived into the waves, a flawless entry that caused scarce a ripple, and then pulled for the tip of the headland. From there, he'd let the current sweep him around to find the barbarian pirate and his ship.

    Beyond the north headland was a little river that wound up a deep inlet between shaded woodlands. Raef had never swum this way after dark. He hadn't ventured too far into the fresh water even during the day, when the curlews dipped their long beaks to fish among the shallows. It took courage, as well as strength, to forge onward at night. The trees were tall and ancient, and many reached gnarled branches down toward the river, as if they wished scoop him up in claw-like hands.
    This evening, silvered by moon and stars, the shapes of the forest assumed the aspects of towering phantoms, though all was relatively quiet. The sole watchers over this dark creek were the trees and a hooting fowl, which was a great relief. He could turn back and seek the pirate farther up the coast.
    Then he spotted light ahead, the merest wisp of it. He kicked his wearied legs—how he wished for his tail, so much better suited to this journey—and swam toward the spark, up a narrow rivulet that grew stagnant and reeked. He soon discerned the shape of the ship, its deck rail wedged between mud banks that formed a natural dock. The light glimmered from a porthole in the high wooden bulwarks to the rear, and though he couldn't see the mermaid figurehead, he knew it was the ship he'd spotted earlier. The name was written on the side, painted in a slanted red script and outlined in gold. Raef squinted, and it took a little while for him to make it out. The second half of the title was strange, unlike anything he'd carved on a tablet back in the mer schoolroom— Alice O'Shanty.
    Stealthy and swift despite his growing exhaustion, Raef made for the stern. He located a rope, shimmied up the oaken walls, and found himself standing on a deserted deck between two stout cannon. Water streamed from his naked form and pooled upon the boards. From beneath, he heard a creak and a loud snore, echoed by a sonorous breathing, then a grotesque burp . The revolting crew slumbered below, but mayhap not everyone was sleeping. Before him, beneath the poop deck, was a cabin. The door was ajar, and the light—surely a single candle—glowed from within.
    With that light still burning, he must be extra vigilant. He crept across the deck before peering through the crack in the door.
    Kemp slept on a low bunk, stripped save for a pair of tight-fitting leather breeches, and with his hair hanging loose. On his bare chest was a book, on top of which he rested his large hand. In the lambent light, the contours of his musculature glistened as if oiled.
    Raef stared, entranced, by this fine specimen of manhood. Surely this was no loutish kluggite … or these pirates were very different from those he'd learned about. Kemp was not ugly as a lumpy fish. He was fascinating, and Raef wished to examine him much closer, to study each ridge and contour, not to mention those tattoos on his arms. The art there was fine. He noted a treasure chest, a sheaf of corn, a leaping fish, a string of pearls. Each image was artistically entwined with the others, like the swirling patterns carved into stone by the ancient Celts… and what was Raef thinking? Even if Kemp wasn't as Raef imagined he ought to be, he was still a thief, who wore Haverford's ruby ring, glinting on the little finger of the hand that lay at his side.
    Fixing on the jewelry, Raef clenched his jaw. Time to be brave.
    Three paces traversed the surprisingly neat little cabin and closed the gap between them. He crouched at Kemp's side and examined the slender band. It appeared to have been designed for a smaller wearer than either Kemp or Haverford, the stone delicately cut. With a feather light touch, he started to pry it off.
    Raef daren't breathe. His nerves whirled and jangled. He struggled to