There is a world of fantasy, of primality, of the most ancient of creatures and the most ancient of laws. It is a savage and uncompromising world, so alien to human thought and emotion that it might as well be the landscape of another planet beyond our galaxy. It is a world where even humans fear to tread, where we are not, as in our own métier, the greatest of predators. It is the realm of Tethys, the realm of the sea.
And Tethys is a harsh and uncompromising mistress. Though you woo her winds and ply her waves with the greatest of technology and skill, every seaman knows that once out of harbor, only Tethys reigns. And she is as capricious as any woman that has walked on land, and wild in both her passion and her fury. This is a story that lies in her realm, among her people. For where the human fears to walk, the worshippers of Tethys roam free.
***
James Orvinney was a man of the sea, so much in love with the wind and the waves that there were those who claimed sea water trickled in his veins instead of blood. The elderly gossips of the tiny village where James lived had taken cup-oath that he had gills as a fish, and swam with the salmon and the herring on nights when the moon shone full. His was a name known for thirty miles around, no mean feat in the land where the fisherman reigned and the net-marked hand was clasped more often than not. And this while he was not yet thirty years of age.
No woman had tempted him for more than a single night, though there were many who had tried. Among men, James counted many acquaintances, but few friends. So it was odd that he would take up with Seamus O'Malley, thought many. O'Malley was everything James was not, a dreamer and bookish, a man who dared not venture out upon the seas except in near calm. Seamus' hands were usually ink-stained, and uncallused. Yet James named him friend. And fast friends they had remained for upwards of a decade.
And so, when James went missing that night, it was Seamus who held on to the last sparks of hope long after everyone else had finished searching. A storm had blown up, one of those bursts of fury which Tethys occasionally launches upon the hapless mortals that dare invade her realm. The wreckage of the fishing boat which James had taken out that evening washed up on shore in the morning. Although trawlers scoured the area for a full week, James Orvinney was never found. And in the little church which served his village, people gathered a year later to release his spirit into the hands of God.
But Seamus refused to believe that his friend was dead. And so it was Seamus, the man who had hated the sea and all that it stood for, who took the little sailing vessel and, clumsily tacking hither and thither, forged a path out into the wilderness of Tethys' realm.
***
The wind, which had filled his sails all morning, had finally forsaken him, Seamus thought. A quick glance at the barometer mounted conveniently near the wheelhouse assured him that no storm was rising, and the anchor splashed merrily overboard to secure him in the cove where the wind had pushed him at last. The cove nestled into the atoll that formed it, dashing spray playfully onto the sandy beach. And Seamus, exhausted by his ineptitude, went into the small galley to make himself a sandwich.
He had become so used to the creak and tilt of the ship that he did not notice as the ship heeled slightly to port, then righted itself. He ate quickly while trying to remember what he had still to do before the night came upon him. Mentally he ticked off the items in his head, fond safe anchorage, no sign of storm, food and water full and fresh. He had not used the small motor at all that day, so the gasoline tanks were still full. Everything seemed to be in order. Finishing the last bite of his sandwich, he washed and re-racked his dishes, then headed up the stairs to make sure the sail was securely furled.
He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the girl.
She was looking out to sea when he saw her. Long platinum blond hair streamed down her back to just above her knees, flowing like the waterfalls above the village of Seamus' birth. She was barefoot, standing only about five feet in height, with a lissome shape concealed behind that shimmering fall of hair. Seamus, though bookish, was still a man, and his member sprang to attention at the sight.
Quietly, so as not to frighten her, Seamus coughed.
The girl looked over her shoulder, revealing creamy skin and large violet eyes. She seemed unafraid, only curious. Her voice when she spoke reminded Seamus of the hiss of waves on the shore, husky and wild.
"There is a storm coming tonight, seaman. You would do well to find other harbor."
"B-but," stammered Seamus. "How do you know? And where on earth should I go? I'm no seaman, and I can barely get this thing to move with wind, much less without it."
The girl turned to face him. For the first time Seamus realized that the girl was no true girl, but a full woman, and that she was completely and gloriously nude. The silver-blond hair that spilled over her was her only covering. A light, downy pelt rustled gently at the apex of her thighs, and her breasts were round and full. Yet she seemed unaffected by Seamus' frank stare and completely unaware of the bulge in his deck pants. She stepped toward him, halting only a step out of arms' reach. Her large eyes surveyed him thoughtfully, marking the lack of net tears in the hands, no scarring on the arms and the clean-shaven face.
"If what you say is true," she murmured, "then my mother will have made a mistake."
"Your mother?" was all Seamus to manage to say with the dryness in his mouth.
Unperturbed, the woman nodded. "My mother, Tethys. Mistress of the sea. She thought you were some seaman, venturing too close to forbidden territory. She sends the storm to drive you away."
Seamus swallowed hard. His brain, temporarily short-circuited by the vision of loveliness only feet away, began to work again. "I'm somewhere I shouldn't be? Where should I go? I'm only out here trying to find a friend of mine."
