Wednesday, August 11, 2021

Works-in-Progress Wednesday: "Fugitive of Crossway" Excerpt: "Drowning"



The strange weapons and the skeletons and long coral fingers took up most of the space alongside Yssandra's tank, but Simon had the freedom to move things about and make a comfortable seat for himself in one of the corners. He heard Scott whistle to the horse, and the wagon started rolling again--but he noticed something odd about the mermaid in the tank.

"Yssandra?" He reached his hand inside and splashed around, as he usually did when she was dozing off or distracted by something. "Are you awake in there?"

The water splashed against the side as the wagon hit a bump in the road, and Simon could see the long, shimmering form inside the cloudy water. Yssandra appeared to float almost suspended in the middle of the tank, instead of swimming laps to counteract the jostling wagon, or doing her best to remain settled at the bottom of the tank.

Simon drummed his fingers on the side closest to her face. She had told him before that tapping on the glass made a much louder sound underwater than one would expect.

Her head came up, and she turned to look at him, but the rest of her body barely moved. Simon watched as Yssandra shifted closer to the wall of the tank, placing a hand on the glass.
Her mouth opened and closed several times before he finally figured out the words she formed: "Help me."

Alarm traveled through Simon's body like an electric current. He leaped up, hunting for the special mineral that would absorb the scum that tainted the water. The rolling wagon made it difficult to measure it accurately, but Simon's priority was to get the water clean so he could see what was troubling Yssandra. Had she been wounded somehow? Was it a disease leaching into the water, blown in on some ill wind?

The water cleared, giving him an adequate view of Yssandra's form. Her head tilted upward, hovering just below the surface of the water, with her hair draped and tangled over her face. Her tail was no longer the vibrant purple color, but it had paled to a soft pink-magenta color. He wondered if mermaid tails changed colors to indicate that they might be sick. Whatever it was, clean water wouldn't change anything. He needed to alert the others.

"Scott!" he hollered to the front of the wagon. "Scott! Hold up!"

"What now, Dingus?" the Outwestern roper hollered back without slacking his pace at all. "We're in the middle of the road. Can't it wait?"

"It's Yssandra!" Simon called back, plunging his hand into the cool water to brush Yssandra's emerald-green hair out of her face. "Something's wrong."

"What did you do now?" Scott roared over his shoulder. Immediately afterward, Simon felt an extra series of jolts that told him Scott had pulled the wagon out of the common ruts in the road and over the grassy berm on the side. The trick roper gave a shrill whistle, and Simon could see his silhouette waving, signaling to the rest of the caravan that they should stop and pull off as well.

He shoved his head through the flap at the front, glaring at Simon. "You better not have messed this up, because Twyner will have your guts for this!"

Simon had no time to respond before the Ringmaster himself approached the wagon, fuming. "What in the blazes is going on? We still have miles to go, and I would like to reach Willemstone before sundown! What's all this?" He tossed open the flap at the back of the wagon.

"I'm sorry, sir," Simon stammered. "But Yssandra--she's--"

"Is she dead?" Twyner's face paled and his eyes nearly bulged from his head. He aimed a wrathful glare at Simon. "What have you--"

"It wasn't me, sir!" Simon gasped desperately.

Yssandra opened her eyes, and gave a weak wriggle of her tail, showing that she was still alive, at the very least.

"She's sick somehow," Simon said. "I don't know--"

By now, the others had gathered around. Mollyanna, Jacqui, and James hung back dubiously, but Nykkola didn't hesitate to climb on the footboard of the wagon. She leaned in close, squinting at Yssandra's limp form.

Twyner eyed the mysterious clairvoyant. "Can you do something about this?" he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

Nykkola shrugged. "I can try," she replied, climbing into the wagon.

Twyner slapped the side of the wagon. "Good enough for me. Simon, you and Nykkola work to get my mermaid back into performance shape. We're moving on, and I don't have any more time to waste!"
He climbed down and ordered everyone back to their wagons. "We're moving out again! Everybody back to your positions!"

Simon glanced at Nykkola's concerned expression as Scott bumped and jarred his way back onto the road again.

Nykkola checked Yssandra's body carefully, inspecting her webbed hands, feeling along her tail and running her fingers along the gills of her face. With one hand on her neck, she asked, "Was she like this when you first saw her today? How long has she been like this?"

Simon shrugged. "I don't know how long she's been like this, but I did notice that she wasn't moving a whole lot when I first got into the wagon, the last time we stopped. I knew she wasn't dead because she was moving a little, and she asked me for help once. I did see that her tail--"

Suspended between them, Yssandra's body gave a sharp jerk, and her arms began flailing as her head rolled from side to side. Simon fought to keep hold on her slick, scaly body. "What's happening to her?" He cried out frantically. "What's she doing?" Something was very wrong, but he couldn't figure out what it was quite yet.

Nykkola stayed by the mermaid's side, her steady hands caressing Yssandra's face and brushing her hair away from her mouth. Her body went rigid. "She's... drowning."
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