The Girl Who Helped a Mermaid: Fairendale, #20

By L.R. Patton

Combining the imaginative powers of ABC's Once with the whimsical humor and irony of Adam Gidwitz's A Tale Dark and Grimm, Fairendale is an epic middle grade fantasy series that follows fairy tale villains, unexpected heroes, and the magical world that unites them all.

 

How do you survive a world under the sea?

 

Dorothy was never one to obsess over the Violet Sea. After a Vanishing spell takes her from the land of Fairendale to an undersea kingdom she didn't even know existed, she wishes she had paid more attention to all the stories. She finds herself in an unknown world of fish and sea snakes and…mermaids.

 

She watches the merman king and his daughters from afar but mostly hides herself away, amid rumors of a sea witch—at least until the day when the youngest mermaid princess, Arya, comes to her sea cave. The two become fast friends. When Dorothy hears that Arya's sisters plan to take a Fairendale boy as a sacrifice for the sea, Dorothy strikes a deal: If Arya will protect the boy, she will give Arya legs to walk on land. Arya agrees. Dorothy gives Arya the potion. They make their plan.

 

But Arya does not show up on the day her sisters marked as the one they would offer the sea their sacrifice. And when Dorothy sees the boy is about to lose his life at the hands of mermaids, her anger turns her into a sea witch of magnificent proportions. She froths and fumes and sends the sea roiling. In her anger, she is faced with a choice: Destroy the sea and the mermaids within it, or remember to love and save both land and sea in the process?

 

In this final conclusion to the Fairendale series, hidden identities are revealed, fairy tale characters take their places on the battle lines, and all begin to wonder the greatest of all questions: Will they be able to put aside their many differences to save their world?

 

The Girl Who Helped a Mermaid is the final book in the epic fantasy series Fairendale, and tells the alternative story of the Sea Witch from "The Little Mermaid" fairy tale. Fairendale is a middle grade series that explores both familiar and unfamiliar fairy tales, legends, myths, and folk tales. The world of Fairendale revolves around villains and heroes—all on a quest for what they believe is right. Throughout the series, the story of the royal family of Fairendale is woven into the story of fairy tale children fleeing for their lives—children who become what we know as fairy tale villains (according to traditional stories), for one good reason or another.

 

One cannot always know, at first glance, who is the villain and who is the hero.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Batlee Press
• Release date: Aug 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201198169

Book preview

Surprises

Agnes , one of the many children locked in the dungeons beneath the dungeons of Fairendale castle—the leader of them all, if the Prophet Yerin’s prophecy can be believed—wakes to the sound of clicking.

She is blind, so she cannot see what all the other children see. But the clicking sounds terribly loud in her ears. She hears the children stirring around her. She reaches for the prophet, before remembering he left them.

He left them. They are alone.

With a strange clicking sound.

Calvin? Agnes says. The last thing she knew, Calvin, one of the castle servants, was in the dungeons with them.

But no one answers.

No one says a word.

Agnes almost wonders if all the children left her, too. Is she the only one who remains here in the dungeons beneath the dungeons? How would she know?

But as soon as the wondering slides into her mind, she hears the sounds of the children, stirring from their own sleep. Some gasp. A few whimper.

What is happening? Agnes calls into the quiet.

Still no one answers.

How could the prophet truly believe that Agnes could lead the children out of the dungeons beneath the dungeons, up all those winding stairs, when she cannot even see the source of the clicking in front of her?

Is it you, Gus? Agnes calls into the quiet. Gus is one of three blind mice who frequents the dungeons beneath the dungeons, as well as other places throughout the castle. It seems the sole purpose of the three blind mice is to keep the children company and report snippets of information they overhear now and again. They are a near constant presence in the dungeons. But, come to think of it, Agnes has not seen them for quite some time.

Agnes nudges the child closest to her. She has not learned all their names, since there are so many here. But she thinks she knows this one. Jeremy, a boy who often stands or sits beside her. She remembers him from the village of Fairendale. He was an apprentice to the cook at the only inn in town. He made a very good carrot soup.

Jeremy, Agnes whispers, trying not to be heard by all the others. Jeremy is thirteen, like her. The rest of the children trapped in the dungeons are younger. What is that sound?

Jeremy sucks in a noisy breath. Bones, he says.

Agnes remembers the prophet talking about bones. There were bones in one of the other cells. They glowed, and the last time Calvin looked at them, they were piecing themselves together, as though enchanted or...or alive.

Somehow.

What is happening? Agnes says.

They are walking, Jeremy says.

And the clicking becomes a rhythm. Click, thunk. Click, thunk. Click, thunk.

A cold shiver climbs down Agnes’s back. Where are they going? Agnes says. She wishes the blind mice were here. She wishes Yerin was here. She wishes anyone who was older and wiser and could tell her what to do was here.

Jeremy’s answer is drowned out by the lock on their cell door bursting open in an explosion of metallic scraping.

The children gasp. A few scream. Agnes grips the iron rails.

Is it...coming inside? Agnes almost hates to ask.

Jeremy says nothing.

To get us? Agnes feels her throat closing up. Her hands feel slippery on the iron rails. She needs someone to be her eyes, so she knows what to do.

Jeremy still says nothing.

Jeremy! Agnes says.

N-n-no, Jeremy says. No, it is passing us by.

But our cell is open, Agnes says.

Yes, Jeremy says.

We are free! a child behind Agnes and Jeremy shouts.

Free. They are free!

At long last they can make their way out of the darkness and into the light.

Agnes does not even stop to consider what they must do. She moves, calling to the children, Come! We must hurry!

Wait! Jeremy grabs her arm, and Agnes feels herself spin around. What about the bones?

The bones. Agnes momentarily forgot about the bones. She bites her lip. Do they move swiftly? she says.

Jeremy says nothing. He probably shakes his head or nods, forgetting that Agnes cannot see him.

Jeremy?

Oh, he says, as though remembering she is blind. Agnes sighs. These are the times she feels like an outcast in a world of seeing people. No, they lurch. Strangely. His voice squeezes up tight. It just looked at me. It has...eyes.

The whole cell grows quiet. Then the clicking starts up again.

If you guide me past it, we can get to the door before a pile of lurching bones, Agnes says. She tries to infuse her voice with certainty, to make up for the fact that she is not certain at all. Perhaps once the bones get used to walking, they will do so much more efficiently. And there are a lot of children.

But they have to try.

They are finally free! They must make the most of their freedom.

They have not been free since King Willis, the current king of Fairendale, sentenced them to this dungeon beneath the dungeons. What was their sentence? Being children.

Back in the king’s more unreasonable days, he sent his king’s guard to capture all the children of Fairendale in an effort to find a magical boy. He felt threatened by the magical boy—or the rumor that a magical boy lived somewhere in the village of Fairendale. Magic, you see, is one of two requirements for ruling the land of Fairendale, which is the flagship kingdom of the land—which means whoever rules Fairendale rules all the lands in the realm. (The other requirement is that one must be male, which is a ridiculous requirement in any leadership position.) So you can see how King Willis, who is not a sorcerer and whose son did not inherit the gift of magic, might want to find and capture a magical boy. His line of succession was in question. He had to keep the throne, at all costs.

The king has since, thankfully, atoned for his crooked ways, though the realm is still a mess.

Come, Agnes says again. She waves to the children. Jeremy’s hand is warm on her arm, and he moves her in a wide arc—she can feel the arc—around what she assumes is the walking skeleton.

But another hand grabs her arm.

Agnes shrieks.

Agnes! a familiar voice says.

Calvin? She thought Calvin had left them here while they slept. She does not remember falling asleep. It must have been some kind of spell. (That is precisely what it was, reader. As part of the Prophet Yerin’s One Last Great Act, which is a large act of magic a prophet is permitted on his or her one hundred forty-third birthday, he put all the children in the dungeons beneath the dungeons to sleep. He thought it might protect them from the Visions he saw coming to the realm. Alas, he inadvertently, without even fully realizing it, used more of his permitted magic to do something else as well, which means the Sleeping spell did not last as long as it should have. Mere minutes, really.)

Agnes hears a scuffle, and Calvin joins her on her other side. I thought you had left us, she cannot help saying.

I... Calvin sounds confused, as though he cannot explain why he is still here, why he said nothing when she called out to him. I think I fell asleep.

We all fell asleep, Jeremy says. For a while. He sounds unsure. Agnes thinks it is probably because time makes no sense in the dungeons beneath the dungeons. They might have been asleep for days or weeks or months. Who could know?

But you are free, Calvin says.

We are free, Agnes says.

Then let us go, Calvin says. He sounds overjoyed. Probably because he has been attempting to learn to swim in a moat outside the castle, preparing for a dip in a mermaid-infested lagoon to retrieve a magical key that will do exactly what is happening now: Free the children from their dungeon. As the only one who can retrieve this key, and the only one, it seems, who cannot swim, he likely feels such a heady relief seeing the children walk from their iron prison he can hardly contain himself.

Agnes lifts one foot after another. She cannot say how she knows where the steps are, but she races up them, as though her inner mind can see them. She is the one leading all the children, even Calvin, who has been up and down these steps hundreds of times. Just like the prophet said.

Her chest blooms with possibility.

But once she and Jeremy and Calvin stand at the top of the stairs and Agnes puts her hand on the knob of the door that leads out into the castle, it does not budge.

It is locked.

I cannot open it, Agnes says.

Let me see, Calvin says. He opens it easily and steps through. But when Agnes and Jeremy try, the door slams shut.

Calvin opens it again from the other side. Try again, he says.

They do. The door slams in their faces, nearly squishing them in the process.

Calvin opens the door a third time and steps back through. The door slams shut. Maybe someone else can open it, he says. He sounds uncertain, but Jeremy dutifully steps forward and tries.

Locked, Jeremy reports.

One by one, the children file up the stairs. Every one of them tries the door. Some of them try to kick the door open or shove it with their shoulders. Nothing works. Their efforts are in vain.

The door budges for no one but Calvin.

Because I am the chosen one, Calvin says. Because I have not retrieved the key.

Calvin sounds angry. Agnes puts a hand on his arm.

A few of the children collapse on the stairs, in misery. Still trapped. No better off than they were before.

It was never the barred door of their dungeon that was the problem in the first place, though no one bothered to ask. Any old regular key would have done the trick to open that door. It was this door, the door to the outside world, the one enchanted long, long ago, that kept them trapped.

And this is what not even Yerin knew. It is why they need Calvin.

A rhythmic clicking sounds behind them. Children gasp and shuffle and whimper.

What is it? Agnes says.

The bones, Jeremy says. Walking up the stairs. He guides Agnes to the wall. She presses herself as flat as she can go.

The clicking moves past her.

One set of bones.

And then another set of bones, right behind the first.

Two of them, Calvin breathes.

Unfortunately for everyone, bones can walk through iron bars and walls and enchanted doors, too, and to the children’s horror, all but Agnes watch the two sets of bones do exactly that.

THE bones of an unknown person follow the bones of King Sebastien to the throne room.

Only two living people are in the throne room. Well, neither is, exactly, living. One is the monster-woman, Yasmin, raised from the dead by a scientific experiment. She looks better than one of the Grim Reaper’s Black Eyed Beings, but it is clear, looking at her blue-tinted skin and the patchily stitched scar on her right cheek, that she is not fully alive. A creature, more or less.

The other not-quite-alive person in the throne room is the Prophet Yerin, who up until an hour or so ago was locked in the dungeons beneath the dungeons of Fairendale castle. He said his goodbye to Agnes and performed his One Last Great Act so he might save the children in the dungeons beneath the dungeons. Or he thought that is what he did. But he has wound up here, in the Fairendale castle throne room, staring at a monster-woman and two perfectly preserved skeletons that glow a brilliant blue. Two skeletons looking for all the world like they are alive.

Yerin hopes he did not waste his One Last Great Act on a trip to the Fairendale throne room. He hopes he instead managed a Sleeping spell that would cast all the children in the dungeons into a sweet kind of sleep with only good dreams. It is what he intended, after all. He has no idea why he ended up here.

Sleeping spells do not traditionally have such honorable purposes, but Yerin’s Sleeping spell was meant for a good cause: He wants the children to sleep soundly until all of this—all that is coming—is over. He knows, because he has Seen the future, that they will escape, but he would like to spare them the misery and chaos coming.

To whom do these bones belong?

Upon Yerin’s appearance in the castle throne room, his sight was restored. So he sees the two sets of bones as clearly as he has seen anything in his life. He watches the first skeleton wave, hand and finger bones flapping.

The monster-woman shrinks into a shadow in the corner of the room. Yerin notes her departure but does not take his eyes from the bones.

Is this her doing?

One set of bones heads toward the throne, which glows a brilliant purple. The other set of bones follows. The first set of bones picks up its pace. The second set does as well. They clack across the floor, running now.

The second set of bones sticks out a foot and swipes the leg of the first set of bones. The first set of bones sprawls, cracking apart. The second set of bones heads for the throne. The first set of bones reassembles itself and races toward the second set of bones. When it collides with the second set of bones, arms and legs and feet and fingers fly everywhere, cracking off the castle walls and clattering to the floor.

Yerin is so surprised he simply stands there, staring.

The monster-woman stares from her hiding place. She watches the bones, which are reassembling themselves, her mouth gaping.

What is happening? her eyes say when they meet Yerin’s.

And then the first set of bones grows a white aura around it, in the shape of a person. A man. One Yerin recognizes immediately.

Sebastien, he says, too quietly for anyone to hear.

His son, all grown up, stands before him, practically see-through.

Yerin has not seen his son Sebastien in many, many years. For a time, back when Yerin was still Jem, a dressmaker in the land of Lincastle, this separation was purposeful; Yerin (or Jem) felt angry at his son for stealing the Fairendale throne and slaughtering people for that selfish end. But when Yerin (or Jem) traveled to Fairendale as the Prophet Yerin, whom he became after a Transformation spell changed his face, he found that he had fully forgiven Sebastien for his monstrous acts. Yerin returned to Fairendale again, to see his grandchild, King Willis. And though King Willis threw Yerin into the dungeons beneath the dungeons of Fairendale castle, Yerin did not hold it against him.

Yerin is a forgiving man.

And he believes in forgiveness.

So he steps forward and holds out a hand to his ghost-skeleton son. Sebastien, he says.

Out of my way, old man, says the former king, a wispy thing still, only just filling out the bones with flesh. He flickers into sight and blinks out again. His full form leers from the magic mirror, which has somehow lost its covering.

Yerin is not sure which form to address. He turns to the man in the mirror. You must stop this madness, Yerin says.

I must get my throne back, King Sebastien sneers from the mirror. The bones clack toward the throne again, but Yerin reaches out a hand and grabs one of the arms, disassembling it from the skeleton.

All the bones must sit on the throne in order for King Sebastien to free himself from the mirror.

Now Yerin has his arm.

Let me go, King Sebastien says. His dark eyes flash in the mirror. His bone shakes in Yerin’s hand, as though trying to break free. Yerin holds tight.

Yerin vaguely remembers a spell, one that mentioned a mirror and bones and the chance to live again. But King Sebastien has died, and he should rest.

Yerin is not foolish enough to tell King Sebastien that. All he says is, My son.

A gasp sounds from the corner of the throne room, where the monster-woman stands.

The bones that belong to Sebastien stop, turn.

(The second set of bones is still putting itself back together. It seems a finger is missing. The hand pats around for it, crawling across the floor like some kind of headless creature searching for something important. Yerin pushes the finger bone deeper in the pocket of his robe. No skeleton will sit on the throne today.)

The man in the mirror stares at Yerin. He tilts his head. His eyes soften the tiniest bit.

Does the king still love his father? Could love be enough?

The king’s eyes harden again. Out of my way. You are no father of mine.

The words pain Yerin. He wonders, briefly, if they are justified. He did keep himself from Sebastien, when Sebastien was king, for ever so long.

The bones turn back toward the throne, as though directed by the man in the mirror.

I failed you, Yerin says, and again the bones stop. Again the man in the mirror stares at Yerin. I know you blame me, for so many things. Your mother. Our situation. Perhaps you even blame me for your death.

My father was not a prophet, King Sebastien says. You wear the robes of a prophet.

I became one, in the days after you... Yerin lets the words trail off. He removes the wig he wears on his head when he visits the king and queen of Fairendale, so the king does not recognize him. He has worn it all this time. He has a bald head, and a scar runs across the front of it. He also pulls down his collar, where a scar puckers across his neck. Spells, whether Vanishing spells or Transformation spells, do not remove scars. So if one has identifying scars visible to the outer world, one will be hard-pressed to disguise oneself with either one, without other measures such as what Yerin has done with a wig and a high collar. There, Yerin says. Remember these?

King Sebastien gasps. Father? he says. His voice sounds smaller now.

Yerin keeps his hold on King Sebastien’s arm bone and, with his other hand, removes a rib from the skeleton. The kind of bone that curves around the heart of a man who is alive. Yerin bows his head and presses the rib to his forehead, right beneath the scar. It is not too late to be a good man. To rest.

I only wanted a kingdom, King Sebastien says. Opportunities.

You had them aplenty, Yerin says. He decides it is not the proper time to mention his son’s shortcomings in ruling a kingdom. Now it is time for someone else to have it.

But they are making a mess of the kingdom, King Sebastien says. They are not fit to rule it.

They are dealing with extraordinary circumstances, Yerin says.

I had war in my day, King Sebastien says. Betrayal.

Not like this, Yerin says. You never had to fight the Grim Reaper.

Yet another piece of information Yerin has no idea how he got.

King Sebastien recoils from the mirror, and the bones, in the real world, do the same. They take a step away from the throne. The Grim Reaper, King Sebastien says, as though thinking out loud. The powers of darkness.

They are strong, Yerin says. And growing stronger. We will need all of us to push them back.

King Sebastien looks at Yerin now—really sees him. You were in the dungeons.

Yes.

How did you get out?

The same way your bones got out, Yerin says. I used my One Last Great Act. Yerin understands now. He is responsible for the bones escaping. That is why he appeared here in the Fairendale throne room, feeling as though someone else was controlling his last attempt at magic. He must have known, somewhere deep inside, to whom the bones belonged and why they were stored in the dungeon. He must have made a decision without even knowing he had made a decision.

He spares no more thought for the children in the dungeon. They will be all right. His son, though, needs help remembering who he is. That is Yerin’s purpose in these last moments of his life.

Your One Last Great Act, King Sebastien says. Understanding moves across his face. And something like sorrow—the deep kind that is practically endless. No, Father. His words are so soft they are almost a whisper.

I do not have much time, Yerin says. And... The hope is almost too much to say. If I release you, will you come with me?

The king’s eyes harden again. It is unclear why. Is it sorrow that turns them so, or something else? Anger? At his father, for dying on him?

Perhaps everything that happened before is too much to forgive.

But King Sebastien says, Yes. I will come with you.

Yerin studies his son for a long time before he shakes his head. I want to believe you, my son. But—

I will come with you! King Sebastien turns into a pleading boy, and the sound of his desperation needles Yerin’s already-aching heart. I will come! Let me come!

And even though Yerin still feels as though he cannot quite trust Sebastien, he does what he knows he must, come what may: He puts every bone from King Sebastien’s body on the Fairendale throne.

No! the monster-woman shouts, emerging from her shadowed corner.

The purple of the throne glows so bright Yerin and the monster-woman have to turn away.

And the last thing Yerin remembers, before he slides into death, is his son leaning over him, eyes flashing, saying, You always were so easy to fool.

And another voice, familiar enough, a woman, saying, But I never was.

And Sebastien gasping and saying, Mother?

Yerin knows how much his son loved his mother. And he can only hope that her presence, if it is real, will keep Yerin’s words living long in the heart of their son.

It is not too late to be a good man.

THE dragon king Rezedron has not fully recovered from the curse that rotted his leg and threatened to take his life, but even still, he travels with the dragons of Eyre, led by his daughter, Queen Nischal, toward the lands of Morad.

They plan to join King Zorag of the Morad dragons in an attempt to fight