“Thanks,” Griffin muttered. I think.
He turned to face whatever it was that shimmied closer, the slithering, creeping, far-too-big something. It had a bulbous head with wide, clicking eyes on either side and undulating tentacles that drew it along the ground like an enormous octopus. Griffin took a tentative step forward, the ground wobbling and jiggling beneath him like an anemone. He’d only gone a few steps when a deep voice rang out.
This is a first for both of us, Earth-child.
Griffin stopped midstride. He clamped his hands over his ears. That voice was in his head. Not like a memory, or a song you can’t forget. It was inside his mind, poking around in there.
You were expecting a human like yourself to barter with. Don’t be surprised—of course I know what it is you want. Tell me, would you trust something so sacred as the ocean’s song to a human? The creature’s thoughts probed Griffin’s brain. Its tentacles swelled and slumped in what looked a lot like a shrug.
No, I thought not. Then why should I entrust you with the magic of this world?
Griffin opened his mouth, only to close it again. How could he put into words everything those priests had put his family through? And how close they were to losing each other again? Griffin winced. “Go ahead, look for yourself.”
There was a long pause while the creature filtered through his memories: his thoughts and his secrets, the loneliness and the grief. His mom and dad, missing, then found. And Fi. On a different world, in a danger he couldn’t help her face. The chamber was silent except for the swishing of the water above and the water below, and the song that permeated everything on this world.
I see. The voice was strained. Still, I cannot give you what you ask.
Griffin blanched. “But—after everything—you’re just going to let them win?”
You believe that our song will free all the worlds, yet Maris only wishes to be left alone. We want nothing to do with your wars. We have suffered enough.
“None of us want this!” Griffin sputtered. “You can’t be impartial, not now. None of us can. War is coming for all of the worlds, whether we want it or not.” He braced himself for the intrusion, for the tendrils wiggling through his mind like the tentacles that coiled out from the creature’s bulbous body. “Look again.”
Griffin scrunched his eyes shut. He called up memory after memory, of the fight to rescue his dad, of his mom in chains deep in the bowels of the rectory, of the people stolen from each world, suspended in the priest’s temple, tubes siphoning off their dreams and draining the life from their bodies.
Griffin felt the creature latch on to that memory, reel it back and play it again—the moment when Griffin had risked everything to try unhooking the elderly, feeble Marisian man so he could find his way home again.
The creature snapped each of its tentacles tight to its body like so many snakes recoiling. Colors rippled over its skin, furious reds and bruising purples.
You tried to free him.
“Yes.”
You might have been caught. Your pursuers were close behind, and soldiers before.
“I’d do it again. It doesn’t matter what world we’re from. If we don’t stand together, sooner or later they’ll come for us all.”
The Guardian watched Griffin, the reds and purples rolling down its arms beginning to pale and slow to a crawl. At length, it stretched one tentacled arm along the chamber wall. Its suction cup pulsed as it drew an iridescent orb from the membrane. The ocean’s song swelled, gathering in strength until it simmered at the edges of Griffin’s every sensation. The creature released the orb, sending it toward Griffin in a boneless ripple. He opened his hands and the orb touched down on the pads of his fingers, trembling as it settled there.
The orb shrank in his hands, tightening in on itself until it was no bigger than a ball, then a peach, then a pearl, the song shrinking with it as it hardened, holding its new shape. The pearl hummed, the song trapped inside vibrating through his palm and down the length of his arm.
Griffin stared at the shimmering thing in wonder. “Thank you,” he breathed.
But he didn’t have a pouch to tuck it into. Or a sock. Or anything, for that matter. He didn’t trust the spider silk clothing not to lose it. Reluctantly, he opened his mouth, tucking the pearl beneath his tongue. It tasted like salt, and it softened again as it settled in, latching there like a living thing. Griffin swallowed gingerly, but the pearl didn’t move.
The creature extended a tentacled arm again, this time pushing a much larger bubble out of the chamber wall. It bobbed, wobbling with the current, ready to tug free at any moment.
Hurry, now. Step inside, and this vessel will carry you to the surface again.
Griffin lumbered forward, his steps awkward on the wriggling, rippling chamber floor. “Thank you—I can’t tell you how much—”
Don’t thank me. Only guard the song well. The wicked ones must not capture even one note.
Griffin clambered inside the bubble. “I’ll keep it safe. I promise.”
The seam closed in front of his eyes and the bubble separated from the chamber wall. Griffin pressed himself against the edge, watching the creature grow smaller and smaller. As it was tugged into the current, the bubble rose slowly toward the surface and away from the aquaculture beds, until the creature was nothing more than a smudge on the larger shadow of the chamber.
A school of fish with teeth like hedge trimmers swam straight toward him, fighting the current, their tails swishing side to side, bumping into the bubble and sending it spinning. Griffin braced his palms against the sides. When the last fish passed, it swatted the bubble away like an inner tube in a waterpark. Griffin spun, screaming like he was on a roller coaster ride that just went from fun-scary to flat-out terrifying. When the bubble finally slowed, bobbing upright, Griffin strained for a glimpse of the glowing aquaculture beds.
He couldn’t see them anywhere. He was lost. Griffin’s fingertips began to prickle, his hair standing up on end. How long would he be floating before someone found him? It wouldn’t matter that he’d gotten the song if he couldn’t find his way home again.
A second school of curious fish swam past Griffin, ghostly white, their glossy eyeballs the most substantial thing about them. They wound around the bubble in acrobatic figure eights and darted away as quickly as they had appeared.
Eventually, the ocean around him paled as the surface beckoned. A boat sliced through the water above. It was moving fast, propelled by a stiff wind. In its wake, a host of floating creatures like jellyfish bobbed, their colorful ribbons trailing deep into the water below.
Griffin flinched away from the ribbons that slid over the bubble like the tails of a thousand kites, tugging at its edges. As the bubble wobbled higher, the ribbons became thicker and tacky, the jellies clutching their catch as the current rushed past.
Griffin swallowed his panic. Should he cut through the bubble and try to escape? But what if the jellyfish were poisonous? Griffin peered overhead—the surface seemed so close, as if he could stretch out his hand and touch it. And then, suddenly, his ears popped. Water flowed under and beside the bubble, and above, there was nothing but sky. Griffin reached up, peeling at the membrane until he broke through, thrusting his head and shoulders out the top, and drinking in glorious gulps of fresh air.
Dawn broke, the first rays of morning light streaming over the waves. The water was warm, but the air was crisp. Griffin turned to face the wind rushing past him, carrying the storm clouds on the horizon closer. The jellies beneath him were like a living raft, the ribbons in the water tethering their insubstantial bodies to the surface, the smaller ones rippling steadily, front to back, propelling the raft forward, toward a familiar shadow in the distance, toward the aquaculture beds.
25
GRIFFIN
GRIFFIN CLIMBED ONTO the docks, swaying a little as he found his footing on the wet planks. Though it was barely morning, the docks were already a flurry of activity. Marisians stoked the cookfire
beneath the thatched roof, dove below to inspect the aquaculture beds, and tossed nets into the water from the docks above, the patrolling Somni soldiers watching their every move.
“Hey!”
Griffin froze.
“You, there!”
Griffin didn’t turn around. The Marisian mending nets down the dock from him had gone stiff, her eyes wide. She looked over Griffin’s shoulder at the soldier he’d just passed. Was water dripping off him and leaving marks on the docks? Were his footsteps making too much noise?
Griffin looked down. His arms and legs were flickering into view—splotches of his skin mirrored the sea behind him, but other sections were back to his own pale coloring. Was the crypsis juice wearing off already?
The Marisian dropped the nets in her hands and lifted the bone strung around her neck up to her lips. Her cheeks puffed and released their breath forcefully, but the whistle made no sound that Griffin could hear.
“Get back in the water,” she whispered.
“But my parents—” Behind Griffin, footsteps pounded against the docks.
The Marisian shook her head in a tight jerking motion. “Go!” She darted forward and shoved Griffin off the dock. He fell backward, his arms and legs flailing through the long drop down to the waves below. It was all he could do to keep from screaming before he hit the water.
Panic stole his breath and the waves swallowed him. Bubbles of air spilled off his skin, making a break for the surface. Griffin thrashed, straining to find the way up, but everything was churning, swirling around him. Prisms of sunlight reached for him and Griffin swam toward the sky. The last bits of air trickled out of his nostrils as he broke the surface. He treaded water, gasping and casting around to get his bearings.
Where were his mom and dad? Had the soldiers found them? Were they adrift on the waves just like him? Much as he wanted to kick up out of the water and scale the pillar to the elevated docks to search for them, Griffin kept his head low, hoping the last of the crypsis juice would hide him from the soldiers.
Three boats dropped into the water, paddles spinning, spitting water as they cut through the waves, straight toward him. Griffin sucked in a breath and dipped his head under, darting to the side as if he were fighting against a rip current. He kicked like a frog, pumping his arms as fast as he could, cursing the woman on the docks for dumping him in the water like that. He might have stood a chance on solid ground. He didn’t have lungs like a Marisian, or layers of blubber.
Griffin glanced behind him. Three narrow hulls sliced through the water, way too close. He had to get another breath without the soldiers spotting him. Griffin flipped onto his back, letting his head float upward until his face broke through the water. He gulped a breath and then wriggled back down, wasting precious energy trying to hide and swim at the same time.
Again, he dove away from the oncoming boats, but he only got a few kicks in before he needed to breathe again. This time, they were so close that even if the crypsis juice was still working, they’d see the water parting, and hear him gasping for air.
“There!” one of the soldiers shouted, pointing as Griffin’s lips broke the surface. The boats turned as smoothly as jet skis and bore down on him.
Griffin’s heart sank. His best chance—his only chance—was to let the boats get close, then dive once they were almost on top of him. Even that would only hold them off for a moment. He couldn’t keep it up forever.
They had him. It was over.
Fi would never let the priests and their soldiers catch her, not without a fight. If she was going down, she’d take them all with her. Griffin drew in a deep breath and sank. Maybe his parents had gotten away. He could give them one more minute, at least. He beat his arms and, once he was far enough down to flip over, flutter-kicked his legs, driving himself as deep as he could go.
The boats screamed by overhead before spinning around and circling above the spot where he’d disappeared. Griffin let out one more burst of kicks before he leveled out, his lungs begging for air. He squinted up through the layers of dark, the bubbles streaming out of his nose wobbling steadily upward. His fingers flicked as the currents teased past them. This was it. Griffin fluttered his eyelashes, the salt water stinging his eyes. Now that he’d stopped fighting it, his body rose slowly to the surface.
Softly at first, then more insistently, a familiar clicking tapped against his eardrums, sounding along the length of his body. Griffin closed his eyes. It was probably only his oxygen-deprived mind, desperate for something to cling to. With a last gust of effort, Griffin beat at the water until he was stretched flat, his arms held wide, hands cupped, waiting. A soft shadow swam beneath him, brushing against his belly and lifting his weightless body onto its back.
With a questioning chirrup, the ray slotted Griffin’s hands onto the base of its wings. The boats churned above, Griffin’s lungs screamed for air, and the giant ray shot forward, launching out of the water, carrying Griffin safely on its back.
He gasped for breath, shaking wet clumps of hair out of his eyes. On the horizon, another giant ray leaped out of the water, Katherine clinging to its back. Griffin cried out in relief. He glanced behind him. Dad? But all he saw were the boats spinning around to begin their chase, a steady line closing in on the rays, their numbers swelling until it seemed as if the whole Somnite army was after him.
With a chirrup of glee, a third ray broke the surface. Philip gripped the ray’s fins, struggling to hold on as the boats closed in, their bows nipping at the ray’s kitelike tail. Griffin jerked his head back around just as his ray dipped below the water again. Griffin squeezed his eyes shut against the water rushing over his face and down the length of his body, leaving his feet fluttering behind.
Griffin hung on, struggling to breathe when they broke the water, and then to fight the urge to black out when they plunged under again. The soldiers were so close, if he lost his grip now, he’d tumble straight into the oncoming boats. The rays swam toward the lighthouse buoy where it rocked in the waves, the red roof swinging side to side.
The spray from the waves crashing against the base of the buoy slapped against the gallery window high above. The first ray carrying Katherine leaped out of the water directly in front of the tower, swiveling in the air just as it had when the Fenns first arrived on Maris. Katherine let go as the ray soared overhead, dropping onto the buoy at the base of the tower and rolling until she came to a stop inches from the edge.
“Mom!” Griffin screamed.
She stumbled to her feet, beckoning and shouting, holding one arm close against her body and limping a little. Griffin gulped a breath as the ray dipped under, diving deep this time, pumping its wings furiously to build speed. They tore out of the water, the ray chirruping as it began to twist in the air.
The tower loomed, teetering in the waves. Griffin cringed even as he got his feet under him to spring away from the ray’s back. Panic closed off his throat. His heart pounded in his chest. He couldn’t do this. He was going to smack against that wall and then it wouldn’t matter how close behind the soldiers were. He couldn’t make it. He couldn’t.
The ray was nearly sideways, its wings fluttering in the breeze that sheered off the tips of the waves. And there, standing at the edge of the buoy, was Griffin’s mom: arms outstretched, eyes locked on her son, determined to keep him from falling.
Griffin let go. The ray spun away from him, careening toward the welcoming water. Griffin kicked, flailing to keep himself upright, bracing for the thud. But somehow, he landed on his feet, running, his hands flying up to shield his face. Just as he was about to smash into the bricks, wiry arms broke his fall, holding tight as he crashed toward the ground.
Griffin rolled, and his mom rolled with him. When they came to a stop, she only gripped him tighter. “You’re okay,” she yelled above the roar of the waves and the song of the sea. “I’ve got you.”
Katherine’s cheek streamed with blood. Griffin’s right leg and arm were on fire, the skin scraped and
raw. But they were alive. Katherine helped Griffin to his feet.
“You got the song?”
Griffin nodded. The pearl was still there, lodged in the soft folds between his tongue and jaw.
“Then go!” She nudged him toward the door. “I’ll wait for your father.”
“But what if opening the portal works differently here?”
Katherine wicked a trail of water out of her eyes. “It may. But the Levitator will pull us through.”
“You don’t know that, Mom.”
“Griffin, please go. I might be wrong, but if they catch us, at least we tried everything we could.”
“I’m staying with you.”
“No.” Katherine gripped the sides of Griffin’s face, pressing her forehead against his. “This is bigger than your father and me. We have to get that song to Earth. Everything depends on this.”
The boats circled the base of the tower, fighting against the waves. One of the soldiers tossed a line over the railing to anchor the boat to the buoy. Katherine yanked herself away from her son and darted forward, throwing the grappling hook back at the soldiers who ducked out of the way, cursing.
“Look,” Katherine shouted, pointing. “He’s almost here. Now go!”
The ray carrying his dad broke the water, twisting as it hurtled toward them. She was right. They just might make it. Griffin flung open the door and tore up the stairs, fighting against the violent swaying of the tower as the waves rolled past. He made it to the first floor landing and hung on while the ground beneath him lurched.
As the buoy rocked back toward its center, Griffin raced up in a flurry of steps, then held on, bracing as the tower leaned out over the water again. When the ground leveled out, he burst upward in another sprint. When he reached the watch room, he hollered, “Hey! Hey Levitator—you’d better be listening. You promised!”
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