Wave: Four Regions, #2

By Andrea Fink

Dirge never felt at home in the Seas—her family made sure of that. A half-breed in a siren shoal where purity and beauty reign, she was a failure from birth. When her mother sends her on a mission for vengeance, she must trade her tail for legs and carry out a murder. If she succeeds, she will earn power and prominence among her kind. If she fails, her demon father will pay the price.
When she arrives in a new region, she finds more than the darkness and evil she had come to expect.
She finds power.
She finds support.
She finds a home.
But Dirge must hide the secret of what she truly is and why she is in the region, lest her plan is foiled and her mother follows through on her threat to destroy everything Dirge holds dear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrea Fink
• Release date: Feb 11, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735175829

Book preview

Prologue

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The little siren hid near the back of the crowd. Her head bobbed up and down as she tread water to fight the slight current that occurred in the rotunda cove. The sun beat down on her shoulders as it illuminated the rocks surrounding the audience, highlighting the red glow that was unique to this location. The few male sirens took their place of honor on the rocky island closer to shore. It was one of two occasions for which they were allowed to join the females.

Of her six sisters, three had siren fathers. The three others were born of their mother alone. They grew more and more identical to their mother as they aged. Dirge was the only one whose parentage was tainted by non-siren blood. Dirge was the ugly one.

A tall elf stood at a rocky altar. His blue skin was almost an exact reflection of the blue hue of the surface of the water. His navy dreadlocks were accented with strands of seaweed. He held a wooden staff that twisted and crawled up to a large blue stone at the top. He raised the staff and his hands to the sky. Present yourself! His voice skimmed across the surface of the water and bounced against the rock formations that surrounded them.

Dirge knew Aria, the siren who was the focus of the ceremony. She was good friends with her oldest sister. Today was her sixteenth birthday. Most sirens would wait until they were older to undergo the transformation. Some would never put themselves through the pain. Some detested the idea of ever leaving the Seas.

Aria could not wait to escape. She could often be heard raving about something new she had learned about the Dark or Light Regions, the tone in her voice indicating she would see for herself one day. Now, she lifted herself out of the water and climbed the red rocks, using her iridescent, blue tail for support as she found new places to grasp. The further she went from the water, the weaker she became, but her spirit grew more determined.

Dirge would have given up by now; to be struggling in front of all of these spectators would be her worst nightmare. As Aria grasped the top of the altar, gasps emanated from the crowd—would she make it?

She is far too young, said one elderly siren just behind Dirge in a weak attempt at a whisper. She goes one step further from immortality, and for what? To be away from her sisters? A foolish lust for adventure? I would have never ventured out had I known what I was relinquishing.

Aria’s arms shook as she pulled herself up. One elbow flung onto the flat surface, then the other, each producing the sharp slap of wet skin on rock. She hoisted her torso until her hip reached the edge and fell prostrate on the hard surface.

The elf looked down on her with revulsion but continued with his duties. This creature has chosen to walk on land! His voice boomed across the cove, causing a flock of gulls to scatter from their place on top of the island, The first pair of legs granted is a gift, the second a curse. Make use of this gift provided to you, for if you venture onto land again, age and death will follow.

Aria said the traditional words, I will carry salt water in my veins to remember my home and my duty. She flinched. Every siren knew what came next.

Heads shifted in front of Dirge. She bobbed, trying to get a better view as curious sirens crowded into the space. She saw a bright blue light outshine the sun as a scream rang out.

A face in front of Dirge turned quickly, looking away from the scene before them. Dirge locked eyes with her. Her oldest sister was trying not to cry, but let out a sob before she ducked under the surface. Dirge prepared herself to follow, but changed her mind when she realized she could see the altar once more. A cloth had been laid on top of Aria as she lay motionless. Sticking out of the bottom of the sheet was not the end of her fins, but the tips of toes.

Other sirens turned to leave, splashing as they dove beneath the waves. The transformation was complete—for the time being, Aria was no longer one of them. The male sirens continued to look on from the rocky island, charged with keeping watch until she walked away on her own. Dirge was one of the last spectators left. She stared up at the sheet as it fluttered in the light breeze. Nine years until it would be her turn.

Chapter 1

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Dirge found her father’s ship about midday. There were many wooden ships in the Seas, but only one whose deck was capped with metal, making it ride lower in the water even if there was no cargo on board. Golden accents on the hull that glinted as the ship tottered over the waves helped signal its whereabouts. The sun beat down on Dirge as she swam just under the surface. She loved the feel of the sun’s rays on her scales. She would miss the sunshine as well as her scales soon enough; she soaked in the sensation while she could.

Her father would often check the water for the glistening purple reflections of her tail. He was ready when she got there. He opened part of the hull normally reserved for cannons and pushed out a wide plank over the surface of the water. Dirge scaled the decorative sculpting on the hull until she could pull herself onto the end of the plank. She sat there as her father laid across the part coming from the ship, securing the large stone they used as a counterbalance.

What did ya think? He asked, pulling out a book from his vest. His accent was a family trait Dirge had not inherited, as she did not even meet him until her speech had already been developed. His family had been from a place called the West Indies, sailing under the same captain for hundreds of years.

I loved it, Dirge produced the same book from a bag she had been carrying with her. I was not particularly keen on the part where she falls in love, though. I feel the whole story could have been more succinct had the author simply ended the story when she finished her journey.

And what does my young girl have against falling in love? Her father rested on his elbows with his sun-weathered face in his hands. His dark skin was like leather from years at sea.

You fell in love, Dirge looked down at her copy of the book and fiddled with the pages, "You had your heart shattered and lost your leg for it."

Aye, my heart was broken, he nodded sideways, but it was made whole again when I met you. As for the leg, he sat up, swinging his real leg and metal leg over the side of the plank so he was sitting beside his daughter, I gave that up willingly. Without it, you would not exist. Besides, this leg, he knocked on his metal leg and it rang like a muted bell, is so much prettier than the battered one I gave up.

Dirge smiled at her father’s attempt to cheer her up. The wind rushed past them as the ship sped on, the warm sun continuing to beat down on them. The old piece of sail she kept wrapped around her chest for modesty had dried in the breeze and heat. They could hear shouts and commands given from the deck above. Dirge and her father sat, facing astern, not wanting to address the quickly approaching event.

Do you want to keep that book? He gestured toward the book in Dirge’s hands, Or are we ready for a new one?

The water resistance is wearing down on this one, Dirge handed it to her father. It will require a new protective spell before I bring it below again.

I got a new one for ya, He tucked back inside the ship and came back with two other books. Shakespeare. You seemed to like the last one of his. He held out a book with a black leather cover. The title Macbeth was engraved in gold. I should teach you the water resistance spell. You might be able to do it.

Father and daughter sat together practicing casting the spell—father modeling it on his own copy of the book and daughter trying it on hers. While her pronunciation was different due to her own accent, it still worked. Her father raised his hand and a spray of seawater fell onto the books. Beads of water flew off the pages quickly in the wind, leaving no trace they had ever been there.

Tide! A voice called from the main deck as the owner’s face peered over the side, a large-brimmed hat shadowing his greyed face. It’s about time for this visit to be over.

Aye, Captain, Dirge’s father hollered upwards, then looked back at his daughter. Just a moment more.

Be quick about it, Captain said as he left. They could hear the door to his captain’s quarters shut above them.

Is it hard to walk? Dirge asked with reservations. It seemed like a silly question to ask, but she had never had to consider the act of putting one foot in front of the other.

Your mother is still making you go through with it, eh? Tide asked.

Did you have any belief she would change her mind? Dirge retorted, Yes. My birthday is in two weeks and she has me under her thumb. I was nearly unable to come now. She must be going mad looking for me. I am unsure if I will be able to come next week.

Then I will see you after your birthday, Tide took both his daughter’s hands. Just come to the beach closer to the Dark Region, where the sands turn black. I will keep a weather eye on the shore and come to you when I can. I can teach you to walk like my father taught me—everyone must learn sometime, some of us as children, others when they get new legs. Some of us must do both. He knocked on his metal leg once more.

I love you, Papa. Dirge wrapped her arms around her father.

"Mwen renmen ou, bijou mwen, Tide’s accent was thickest when he spoke his family’s native language. Dirge had wanted to learn it but did not get to spend enough time with him to do so. Since there were no books in that language to be found in the Four Regions, and Tide was the only one who spoke it, Dirge knew the entire language would die with her father if she did not carry the torch. When she returned from her mission, when her mother was no longer breathing down her neck, she would learn from him. Tide held his daughter, running his fingers along the curls in her brown hair, still wet with the spray of the sea, I will see you soon."

Dirge put the new book in her bag and dove from the platform into the sea below. The salt water hid her tears as she swam back home. She did not want to do any of this. She tried to think of what might happen if she refused to be transformed. There were no other options, though. Her mother had arranged for the elf to perform the ceremony on the day of her sixteenth birthday. If she did not present herself when asked, it would shame her entire family. None of her sisters would be allowed to transform if the elf felt the family slighted him.

Once she was on land, she would have more control over her destiny. She could choose not to follow her mother’s wishes, but if she was not successful her mother would make life unbearable when she returned to the Seas. Her mother had the power to do so, having such a close relationship with the leader of the shoal.

Dirge swam into her home—a rock formation about thirty feet below the surface. Her mother had told her stories of the olden days in which sirens were forced to live so far below the surface that their blood ran cold. They were afraid of the humans, as the two species were both predators and prey to each other. When they were allowed to swim higher, where sunlight shone, they were no longer grey and sickly-looking. Instead, they developed vibrant colors. Tails and scales of reds, greens, and blues were common. Some had white scales. Only Dirge had the lavender coloring to her tail. Her sisters called it strange, called it ugly, called it demonic. They wanted to be sure Dirge knew she was not really one of them.

Dirge heard her sisters whispering as she entered their shared space. The murmurs stopped as soon as Dirge came into view. This was a common occurrence. Dirge checked to see if her mother was around—no sign of her. She was likely out searching for Dirge. She left immediately to place herself somewhere her mother would think her likely to be—somewhere that wouldn’t get her in trouble.

She swam to her favorite island. It was just large enough for her to sit and read, with a rock that was placed perfectly for her to rest her back on. She climbed up and basked in the sunshine as she opened her new book. She kept one hand in the water and would use it to splash and wipe down her tail when it began to dry.

You know, one of her sisters popped her head out of the water and rested her elbows on the rock, Mother already checked here. Carol was the nicest of her sisters, though that did not mean she was always nice. As Dirge’s birthday drew closer, however, she had stopped name-calling and intentionally letting Dirge get in trouble. Why do you let your skin dry? It looks so ashy.

It feels nice, Dirge rubbed her arm, brushing off the salt and looking at the dry skin beneath it. Besides, who am I trying to impress?

Do not let Mother hear you say that, Carol smirked. Dirge knew Carol was glad to not be her mother’s chosen one. You should focus more on your beauty than that book at the moment. Or you should at least be practicing your spells.

Dirge often caught Carol watching when she would practice her spells. Being part water demon made her one of few sirens who could practice active magic. No pure siren could do what she could. If Mother wanted me to practice magic, she would let me see my father who could teach me, Dirge didn’t look away from her book, though she had been re-reading the same paragraph again and again.

As if you do not anyways. Carol lowered her voice, I know that is a different book than what you had last time I caught you up here. Is that where you have been?

Dirge closed her book and was about to answer when her mother surfaced, sneering, Where have you been? I have been searching the entire ocean for you. Before Dirge had time to respond, her mother raised a finger. Under. Now.

Chapter 2

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Dirge’s mother had insisted on teaching her daughter everything she knew about the Dark Region. She had lived there for years, pretending to be a weakly-powered demon to hide her siren identity. She had even been named, which was a rite of passage there—a sign of adulthood. When she returned to the Seas with a broken heart, she continued to go by the new name she had been given—Belle.

Dirge longed for a new name. Nearly sixteen years of going by a name that sounded much like the word dirt did not do much for her self-confidence. It was as if her mother wanted her to have another reason to be mocked by her peers. Her mother had been named by a border official who was overcome by her beauty. Part of Dirge wanted a name of beauty, as she had never been considered beautiful here, but another part of her wanted an intellectual name.

That is ridiculous, Belle dismissed the idea. Even being only half-siren, you are more beautiful than most of the women in the Dark Region. Without a name, you are looked down upon—you will take a name if they offer one to you. Besides, no woman has ever held an intellectual name there.

Dirge did not believe she was beautiful or powerful enough to be named upon entering the region. The border official would likely assign her a Daughter of name, the sort of names given to those in the Dark Region until they earn their own. Belle insisted she use Daughter of Belle since the name was known by the royal family. It could bring her into their social circle more quickly. However, in order to do that she would have to say her father was dead. If Belle had had her way, he would be. In order for a siren to conceive with a male that is not also a siren, she must consume him. Tide had cut off his own leg for Belle to conceive, but Belle had intended to do away with him completely. Luckily, he was a skilled water demon and had outwitted the siren.

You meet with the border official—what do you say? Belle demanded, swimming in circles around her daughter, her yellow tail glinting gold in the filtered sunlight that streamed into their cove.

Dirge groaned. We have practiced this a thousand times.

Yet you never provide a convincing performance, Belle snapped. What do you say?

I wish to travel to the Dark Region, she began sarcastically, but settled into a sincere tone to appease her mother. I plan to train in water magic with demons along the rivers. I am well versed in the magic of salt water but wish to practice in fresh waters.

Your race? Belle’s voice went low as if to pretend she were a border official.

Water demon, sir. Dirge looked forward, avoiding eye contact.

And? Belle looked her up and down with skepticism.

Just water demon, Dirge looked directly at her mother. To look away would suggest to the border guard that she was lying.

Yes, Belle’s hand found her own hair. It was not as she wanted it, so she swam off to look at herself in a mirror she had propped near the ground. Were your parents registered in the Dark Region?

Yes, sir, Dirge spoke as she kept her body in the same place, treading water lightly to imitate standing still. My father, she paused, giving a somber effect, has died, but my mother was named Belle upon her first entrance to the Dark Region.

Do you know when your mother registered? Belle asked, still with a low voice.

It must have been, she fiddled with her fingers, Just over fifty years ago.

Good, Belle returned to using her own voice. More believable than the last time. Now tell me all you know about the prince.

Mother! Dirge wanted to be done.

Do as I say, Belle hissed as her reflection’s sharp eyes stared her daughter down.

Dirge growled softly and huffed before beginning, He has eighteen years. He is part demon, part vampire, though he is said to appear more vampiric than anything else. He was Son of Will until he was named when he had fifteen years. After a dark elf took down his father in an effort to kill the queen, he instantly killed the attacker with a bolt of lightning, earning him the name Strike. He is unmarried, unengaged, and the heir to the throne, and you insist I try to change that fact.

Belle ignored the last remark, And the queen.

I still do not understand why you hate that woman so much, Dirge chose to forget the fact she was still expected to speak.

Belle turned quickly to glare at her daughter, She stole the love of my life from me.

"You tried to kill the love of your life!" Dirge retorted.

Belle snapped, swimming swiftly to put her face directly before her daughter’s, her voice a screech only a siren could produce, I gave that vampire my blood to make the potion, but I never told him to use it. Her voice went back down to a normal register as she looked past Dirge, into the dark water beyond their cove. She loved me, too. If I could have just spoken to her once more, she would have fought for us, her fists clenched as her eyes narrowed, but that woman made it so she could never return and I would never see my sweet Daucha again.

Dirge was feeling feisty, You are just bitter because you could not seduce her, too.

Belle grabbed her daughter by the ear and pulled. "You listen to me, insolent half-breed. I was sent to avenge my mother being denied the throne; thrown over because she was unnamed when her father died. I was supposed to kill Daughter of Champion, but I followed my heart and look what it got me—failure. My mother killed herself in shame. You will not mock me. You will do your part to put our family in power, back on the throne where we belong. You will kill Mask and Strike to begin a new Grand Trial so we can fight for what is rightfully ours." Belle let go and swam back to her mirror where she toyed with her blonde hair.

Dirge nursed her ear. One would think she would have developed a higher pain tolerance after years of ear-pulling, but it still hurt just as much as the first time. She glared at her mother, Do you understand that my sisters would all jump at the chance to please you? Yet you insist I be the one to do this. Why?

You are the only one who has any magical ability, Belle was dismissive, as if it was completely obvious. "You could actually pass as a demoness. I got by on my beauty alone, but that was because Daucha was also unskilled in magical arts. Strike is powerful. Power attracts power. Besides, I could not very well send your sisters