Cerulean Isle by G.M. Browning Page B

rest, just as we do. For example, a man is able to run, but does he run everywhere he travels? Nay. Such logic applies to the Mer. They swim but they have their places of comfort. There are small islands, uncharted and unknown to seaman, which they guard and protect. As I have already said, the Mer are territorial. They prefer islands that rest in rising waters, islands containing grottos and a portion of sandy beach. They love rock formations because rocks provide places to hide as well as warmth.
    “The island dwellings are important to the Mer society for other reasons. Certain islands are reserved for raising the Merchildren, sanctuaries of learning and growth. Other islands are cache islands used to store collected valuables and food.”
    “Valuables?” I asked sharply. “Like what?”
    “Rope, wood, metal, bone, rock, coral, and shell. They are skilled in working these materials into items that help them survive. They create arrows, swords, and spears of bone and shields of wood and stone. They use these hidden islands to store what they recover from sunken ships as well.”
    “You’ve captured my interest,” I said rather smugly. “Is it safe to assume these Merfolk would gather lost gold and silver from a shipwreck, then?”
    “Of course. Metals such as gold and silver can be re-forged to make great armor, weapons and even jewelry. I forgot to mention how much the Mermaidens love jewelry!”
    Upon hearing the old Darien say this, I nearly leapt to my feet with excitement. To think, the Merfolk gathered Jean L’Ollon’s gold! That must have been why Captain Shanley couldn’t find it.
    I asked as calmly as I could, “Do you know the location of any of these Mer Islands? Have the Merlords privileged you with such knowledge?”
    He stared at me for a moment. The orange glow of the firelight illuminated his omniscient eyes. He was studying me as if trying to read my thoughts. I smiled to conceal my eagerness.
    “I know of one. It is the largest and most sacred of the Merfolk Islands. Though let it be known, I have sworn an oath of secrecy.”
    “Oh, come now, your secrets are safe with me,” I assured him.
    “I can say no more. Ask me anything else, please.”
    “Where is the island?” I nearly shouted. My lover, who up until this moment hadremained calm, turned and glared disapprovingly at me. I released her hand and asked again, “Where is it?”
    “What need to know have you, seaman? Do you now show your true heart? Does the thought of an island of treasure stir your greed?”
    While the Darien Chief glared at me, I slowly reached for my knife. The hard handle met my fingertips without anyone knowing. With immeasurable quickness, I drew it from the sheath, snatched my beautiful lover and pressed the steel to her throat. There was a small trickle of blood; she was squirming, and I was holding her too hard.
    “Answer me or she dies! Where is the island? What is it called?”
    The tired and worn old man seemed to crumble with defeat.
    “Forgive me, Sydin, forgive me,” he whispered. He looked into my eyes. I could see the regret, the fear, and the betrayal in his stare.
    I was not swayed.
    “It is called Cerulean Isle. The island is northeast of Puerto Bello, west of Aruba. It is southeast of Old Providence. It is not easy to find and the rocks and coral are treacherous when the water is low. Please, lower your blade!”
    It was at this moment that an incredible splash erupted from the dark shore. It sounded like cannon fire blasting into the water. I shoved the girl away, snatched a burning branch from the fire and ran for the shore. It was one of them…I was certain. The Mer were listening the whole time and now they had fled!
    Once at the water’s edge, I waved my makeshift torch, casting its yellow light onto the wet sand. The black waves lapped over my feet. I noticed something odd. A cluster of shiny black seashells was piled neatly on a patch of dry sand as if waiting to be found. I