A Goddess Never Lets Go

RUM

         Rum lifted his amber eyes to the horizon, where the sun was sinking slowly beneath the water, splashing the calm sea with purples, blues, greens and golds. He was tempted to laugh out loud, to mock the god of the sea and sky, to dare any deity to acknowledge his existence.

         But he didn't. Instead, he turned his shaved head to look over his shoulder at his crew, all standing still, all ignoring the obvious danger.

         Their ship was sinking, going under, becoming a gift to merfolk and fish. Rum slammed his fist against the sturdy railing of his vessel, The Dark Sunne, and once again cursed his luck.

         It was all because of the witch. He had picked her up, hauled her in from the row boat that tapped up against the hull of his ship, brought to him despite the becalmed sea.

         That was another part of the curse. The sea. No waves, no storms, no nothing. Only calm waters...endless calm waters.

         Having a woman aboard was asking for misfortune, the men grumbled. Rum ignored them. Now he wished he had at least feigned interest in their superstitions. What kind of a pirate drowns at sea with a woman aboard his vessel and no visible damage causing it to sink?

         Sighing, Rum ran his tongue over his full lower lip and reached up his hand to tug at the hoop earring that dangled from his left lobe. He turned from the sun, nearly gone, and strode purposefully across the deck, his muscled legs pumping in anger.

         "Aye, now she's gone," one of his men said and a cheer rose up.

         "Silence!" Rum shouted and the crew immediately obeyed. "If she is truly a witch, she can save us all."

         The men stared at Rum in dismay as he disappeared below decks. They didn't murmur, didn't speak. One by one they turned their attention to the rapidly darkening horizon and thought of the water filling the ships lower gulley's with no explination.

         The first mate, Will Barrows, tightened the scarf around his golden hair and spit upon the dark wood of the deck. He tied his pants at the calf and rolled up the sleeves of his tattered red shirt.

         "Enough of this, men!" he shouted and immediately the deck candles were lit and the men began their duties. The ship may be sinking, but it would be the most well kept ship the fish and merfolk had ever claimed.

SHARA

         Shara tilted her head slightly, bringing her long brown hair over her shoulder and weaving it quickly into a braid. She stared at the lantern hanging overhead and frowned. The wick was almost gone, the light was growing dim.

         "Figures," she muttered. It didn't help that she had been locked in the cabin since her first day boarding. It didn't help that the men called her a witch.

         Shara kicked a bottle that lay by her slippered foot. She tied off the braid with a piece of string, torn from the bunk she sat upon, and watched the bottle spin madly.

         "Too bad I'm not a witch," she said to no one, her loyal friend as of late. "I would burn this ship and all who are on it." Shara paused. "Except myself, of course."

         The door opened and Shara stood, unused to anyone taking the time to see to her. Food had been brought in and left, days worth of water and the 'pot' that she used for delicate things, was her only responsiblity. The small porthole had only one use, ridding herself of the smelly waste she created daily.

         Rum entered and Shara felt a gentle tingling dance upon her nerve endings. He was very handsome, with his six foot tall figure, his square jaw and amber eyes, strong nose and kissable lips, Shara blushed in the gloom and was glad the wick was almost gone.

         "Witch," Rum said and immediately regretted it. The young beauty lifted her chin in defiance and her green eyes flashed.

         "I am not!" she said, her full pink lips forming into harsh, unyeilding lines.

         "Save my vessel," Rum said.

         "Save it?" Shara felt a twinge of fear. Had she truly gotten her wish? Was the ship on fire? "What is wrong with it?"

         "It sinks," Rum replied as he closed the door behind him and advanced further into the room that had once been his. "For no reason."

         "No such thing," Shara murmured and regretted it when his eyes narrowed and his dark brows drew closer together.

         "Bring back the wind and save my vessel." Rum crossed his arms over his muscular chest, the white material of his shirt rustling softly. Shara shook her head, tears entering her eyes.

         "I can't," she wished he would listen, wished he would believe. "I am not a witch."

         "Then you are ill luck," Rum insisted. "I will throw you overboard and our luck will change."

         "How could you be so stupid, sir?" Shara demanded. "Women are not ill luck."

         "Aboard a pirate ship they are, lassie." Rum replied with a mocking smile.

         "I can't help you," Shara said softly. "Even if you throw me overboard, the ship will continue to sink, the water will stay calm."

         "You will not lift your curse?" Rum took hold of her and shook her.

         "I have no powers. I placed no curse." Shara said, though he shook her so hard her teeth rattled.

         "Lies!" Rum pushed her away and thought of his crew. But he couldn't bring himself to kill her, couldn't make it right despite the circumstances. "What can I do?"

         "Ah, now you are asking the right question, Captian Rum." came an unfamiliar voice accompanied by a blinding flash of light.

QUELLA

         Rum stumbled but quickly regained his bearings. He stared at Shara, rage in his eyes, and knew, beyond a doubt, that she was a witch.

         Unfortunately, Shara was rubbing her eyes and had fallen upon the bunk. Rum glared around the small cabin, up at the flickering, rapidly dying flame, and still the room was lit as bright as day.

         A beautiful woman moved and was suddenly seen. She wore a gown of ocean blue, her hair was seaweed green, her flesh coral pink. Rum cursed once more.

         "Hello, Captain," she said, her eyes of purple with yellow flecks absorbing Rum with just a glance. "I see you have my prize."

         "Your prize?" Rum glared at her a moment, knowing full well that she was of the sea and not caring one bit. After all, the sea had declared war on him by invading his ship.

         "Yes," the woman smiled, red lips parting slightly. "I was intent on destroying you, but I see that you have Shara."

         Rum looked at the girl, who had shied away from the water goddess and was inching her way to his side. He immediately felt protective of her. "What of her?"

         "Well, you were going to throw her overboard," the woman frowned. "I went through a great deal of trouble to save her, you see, and I wouldn't appreciate you handing her to the very people I fought against to salvage her."

         "Who are you?" he whispered, as Shara's slender hand slid around his massive bicept. He longed to pull her close and damn the woman, his crew and ship to the sea.

         "I am Quella, Neptune's wife," she grinned then and Rum saw the gills flare upon her slender neck. "But he doesn't know I'm here."

         "Why is my ship sinking?" Rum asked, anxious to have her purple eyes on him once more.

         "The correct question is why isn't your ship sinking?" Quella looked upward and crossed her arms. "I am saving you and Shara. Of course, I am mainly saving Shara. I am holding your ship afloat. But, he is keeping the sea calm and infuriatingly flooding the bowels of this vessel."

         "What can I do?" Rum asked then.

         "Yes!" Quella looked at him once more, her eyes sparking. "What can you do?"

         "You tell me," Rum shook Shara's death-like grip off his arm and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side.

         "That's it," Quella smiled softly, looking at Shara lovingly. "Is this what you want, Shara?"

         Shara bowed her head. "Yes,"

         "To live here, above your home, to love a mortal man, a human?" Quella moved closer, her footsteps sounding like rushing water upon the rocks.

         "Yes," Shara tried to pull away from Rum but he held her tighter than ever. He didn't fully understand what was happening, all he knew was that Shara was not going to be taken from him. He pulled her from the sea, saved her, she was his, witch or not.

         "Your father has called back the waters. The ship shall not sink. But you must understand the price you've paid." Quella halted a few feet from Shara, purple eyes locking with green in silent understanding.

         "My life is forfeit if I ever forsake him," Shara murmured.

         "You have shunned the chosen mate for you," Quella looked at Rum. "Though I can see why. But should you choose another..."

         "The sea will boil and I will return to it," Shara nodded. "I know."

         "Good," Quella began to fade, her beauty turning ugly, just as the sea when a storm falls from the heavens.

         Rum turned Shara toward him and drank in the beauty of her face. "Who are you?" he asked at long last.

         "I am Shara, daughter of Neptune and Quella, princess of the sea. And I love you." she smiled softly.

         "That is all I see," Rum leaned closer. "Your love for me." And he kissed her pasionately.

         The wind rose and swept the ship along, the crew shouted in joy, believing the witch had set them free. In a way, Shara had been the cause and redemption of the ships ill fortune, but she was far from being a witch.

         At least, a far as Rum was concerned. Her illusion of Quella had been truly believable, her love spell struck fast and hard.

         Truly, there was more to Shara than meets the eye. She was the daughter of the king and queen of the sea. But goddesses are not without their powers. Her father had told her that she could only marry a god, only love a god. But Shara was a goddess and they don't play by the rules.

         Calling a goddess a witch was truly upsetting but winning a mortal man was worth the names. The ship sailed on effortlessly as Shara laid claim to Rum's heart and soul. She fully intended to take care of the members of the crew that hated her so. Rum was hers. Forever and always, a goddess never lets go.