The Case of the Lost Mermaid: The Wolflock Cases, #6

The Case of the Lost Mermaid © Rhiannon D. Elton 2021

The Wolflock Cases: Book 6

Second edition

ISBN: 978-0-6487636-5-9 (paperback)

First Edition published May 2017

Second Edition published April 2021

All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means— electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by Australian Commonwealth copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at Attention: Permissions Coordinator, at the address below.

info@rhiannoneltonauthor.com

Cover compiled by Rhiannon D. Elton

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cataloguing-in-Publication information for this title is listed with the National Library of Australia.

Published in Australia by Rhiannon D. Elton and Pelaia Adventures.

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Declaration of Intention

MERRY MEET,

The purpose of the books the author writes is to give representation to as many peoples, creatures, and landscapes as they can. Although written from the perspective of a Caucasian teenage boy, the author hopes to offer a light into the harmony of different cultures and creeds of people. The author’s aim is to promote harmony, understanding and compassion in all areas, while also inspiring readers to stand up against injustice and be critical thinkers in life.

While the author does their best to research, interview and highlight the best parts of people, they are only human and can make mistakes. The author asks you gently educate them by sending them an email in order to discuss anything that may have caused harm to a group of people unintentionally.

The author believes that the cure for ignorance is education, but please approach the topic cordially in order to avoid any knee-jerk cognitive dissonance.

Finally, the viewpoints displayed in the books comes from a particular character and is not necessarily that of the authors. The author seeks to display flaws, growth and human nature on many levels, and hopes that you will analyse the character of the protagonist without adopting any negative behaviour from them.

Merry part, and merry meet again.

Dedicated to Mum

I’ve heard so many stories where other writers mums don’t encourage them, and I just wanted to say that I am so grateful that you have always celebrated my creativity.

CHAPTER 1

The Daughters of the Sea

WOLFLOCK PINCHED HIS chin, looking at the open barrel before him with a hint of a smirk.

I see. This is a mystery indeed, he nodded, leaning down to look closer at the dried oats.

Now, yeh hear me, Wolflock. Grogen put his hands on his hips and leaned down as well. I know we had barrels o’ dried dates, apples, peas, and flour. Even the crate with vinegar bottles, too! I saw ‘em yesterday. And I can’t find the suet, either! Me muffins are gonna be so bland.

And that would be a travesty. Wolflock subtly covered his mouth with his hand as he heard a wheezy snicker from the back corner. Tell me, Grogen. Has anyone tampered with your desserts before?

Not tha’ I can remember. Only thievin’ em, but I wouldn’ call tha’ tamperin’.

I see. And who has been permitted access to the hull within the last day?

Just tha normal crew, I s’pose.

"Hmmm... And are you certain every barrel is filled with oats now?"

Pretty certain.

What about that barrel over there? Wolflock pointed a thin finger at a large barrel at the back of the hull.

Huh? Why that one?

It’s recently been dragged from the oats section. You can tell by the dust along the floor. It’s not the normal grey dust, but, rather, a fine cream colour.

Yeh right. Grogen followed the trail to the barrel that was as big as him.

I’d say what you’re after may very well be in there. Wolflock glanced at the giggling box a few steps away as Grogen lifted the barrel lid and looked in.

I can’t see nothin’.

It’s a bit dark in here. Can you feel anything at the bottom?

The large crewman grunted as he reached in, his feet lifting off the ground as he tried to touch the bottom.

I can’t feel nothing, Wolflock. It’s empty.

That can’t be correct. Keep looking. I’ll get a lantern for you. Wolflock lied as he crossed his arms and chuckled, watching Grogen’s feet flailing out the top of the container. 

One of the sides fell off the box the giggling was coming from and Mothy fell out of it, clutching his stomach as he guffawed. Wolflock burst out with laughter and rushed to seal the box back up again, leaving a little crack for Mothy to continue watching.

Wha’ was tha’? Grogen’s voice came muffled from the barrel.

Nothing! I just tripped. I’ll be back with a lantern presently. Wolflock composed himself as best he could.

Don’ worry. I found it.

The barrel wobbled on its rim as Grogen hoisted himself back out, triumphantly holding a tiny wooden fish with an opal for one eye.

Wha’ in Houl’s name...?

Wolflock gasped, covering his mouth to hide his smile. Oh. It all makes sense. I knew it.

Knew what?

It’s the, Wolflock dropped his voice to a whisper and beckoned Grogen closer, pirate reedbits.

Grogen’s brown eyes went wide at the mention of the corrupted guardians of Houl’s river. The word ‘pirate’ was rarely spoken on the ship because the crew believed it would attract them, even though there hadn’t been any along the river in hundreds of years.

What do yeh mean, lad?

The hushed tremor in the crewman’s voice made it hard to keep a straight face. Slavidus told me a few days ago about the tale of the pirate reedbits. Reedbits that renounced Houl and were punished to never be able to touch the river bottom again, but also to never leave the river, either. They cause all kinds of mayhem. Stealing food and turning the rest to oats to punish Houl’s followers was their modus operandi. It looks like they’re ready to parlay with us, though.

How do you know that?

The fish. When they leave the sign of the fish, they’re ready to discuss terms. They do the same thing with Houl when the river freezes over. They finally get a chance to rest in Winter when they are frozen in the ice.

Well... we have the fish. How do we parlay with ‘em?

"Slavidus said that you have to look for the shadow of a reedbit and follow it without looking at it directly. Then they’ll state their claims and if it’s unreasonable you say, ‘fiddle dee fiddle dit, that just won’t work, nasty reedbit."

And? Grogen twisted his hands around the small wooden fish.

You get three tries. The third one you have to agree to, or else they’ll sink the ship or eat a passenger.

What!? Grogen gasped. That can’t be right!

I don’t make the rules. I just repeat them.

And break them. Mothy whispered loudly from the box.

Wolflock coughed and kicked his heel on the edge of the box to muffle the sound. Grogen frowned and looked around them for the source of the noise. Suddenly, Wolflock pointed behind Stra’s storage area. What’s that?

Huh?

I just saw it! The reedbit shadow!

Grogen raced over and Wolflock pointed further along. There! Did you see it?

I can’t see nothin’, lad! the burly sailor growled.

Over there! Quick!

Ain’t be ‘sposed ta not be lookin’ at it? he grumbled as he squeezed between trunks further up.

I keep seeing it out of the corner of my eyes.

Your round eyes, Mothy whispered again.

Wolflock made Grogen chase the imaginary shadow all about the hull until finally he shut the box with a loud snap.

I think we’ve got it in here. Good job, Grogen.

Well, he panted, leaning forward, and supporting his huge frame on his knees, hopefully it has... some reasonable... demands...

I hope so too, Wolflock stifled a laughed. Fiddle dee, fiddle dit, what do you want, reedbit?

Mothy made chirping rabbit noises inside the box with the occasional bubbling sound.

Fiddle dee fiddle dont, a chest of cheese is what we want.

Grogen, having regained his breath, stood up straight and looked about. We don’t have any cheese. Only oats.

You’d best tell them then, Wolflock nodded solemnly.

Ah... how’s it go? Fiddle dee fiddle dit, that just won’t work, nasty reedbit.

Mothy tapped on the box like a rabbit thumping the ground, which perfectly masked Wolflock stifled laugh.

Fiddle dee fiddle doth. We want a ream of golden cloth.

Grogen scratched his brown beard, thinking for a long moment. Do yeh reckon Haatji would give up some o’ hers?

Oh, she doesn’t have any to spare. It’s all made into clothes already. She had to leave any reams for mending back in Uluken.

Grogen thumped the box with his hairy paw, Ship rats! he cursed. Fiddle dee fiddle dit, that just won’t work, nasty reedbit.

Mothy thumped the box again in rabbit like fashion and laughed in character. Whoo, whoo, whoo! Fiddle dee fiddle die.

Grogen swallowed nervously as the word ‘die’ was mentioned.

All I want is your best meringue pie.

The hull was silent as Grogen looked about. Is... is it jokin’?

Wolflock shrugged and made a face. Mothy hadn’t told him he was going to ask for desserts.

Is what joking? Grogen what are you doing in the hull? You’re meant to be resting for your watch tonight.

Wolflock and Grogen looked up to the hull stairs and watched the first mate Slavidus descend with narrowed eyes. It was Wolflock’s turn to gulp. He wasn’t meant to be in the hull.

Tha... Grogen’s eyes darted back and forth before he whispered, ... pirate reedbit, sir.

Slavidus frowned. The what?

It’s asking for me meringue pie, sir. Don’t you worry though. I’ll make it good and proper and then no crew or company’ll be stolen.

Wolflock was glad the hull was so dark because the mix of nerves from being found by Slavidus and holding back his hysterical laughter made his face flush red hot.

You take care of that. What are you doing here, Mr Felen?

Before Wolflock could make up an excuse Grogen interrupted, But we don’ have no more eggs! It’s all oats, sir!

Slavidus’ frown deepened. What?

Oh wait! Wolflock dashed forward and seized the lid of one of the oats crates, burying his arm elbow deep inside it. Who’d have guessed! Eggs! Just under an inch or so of oats. Ha. So peculiar.

He tried to shake his head and pretend to be as perplexed as Grogen was, but Slavidus’ stare sliced right through him.

Oh! Maybe jus’ the promise of my best was good enough to fix it? I’ll get right onto it. He lifted the crate of eggs, but Slavidus put his hand on it.

"I’ll