The Edge of the Ocean

by L. D. Lapinski

  The Serpent came then, Captain Burnish visible hanging from the rigging. He gave Flick a salute before his ship plummeted through the schism.

  Flick gasped.

  The CRUNCH this time made Nyfe clamp her hands over her ears like a child. Avery looked around wildly, eyes wide with fright.

  A fizzing feeling shot up Flick’s arms as though she’d just banged her hands hard into a wall. The schism lurched, getting smaller by a couple of meters across. Flick gritted her teeth and tried to force some more magic into it.

  “Faster,” she forced out. “It’s—trying—to—close—”

  Nyfe cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled: “COME ON, YOU WASTES OF DECK SPACE. PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT—DON’T YOU KNOW THIS HAS TO BE FAST?”

  Flick couldn’t speak. As the Gilt Princess tipped over the edge, the balance of magic shifted completely. It was rushing now, straight through Flick like she was a sieve, and into the gaping maw of the schism.

  If she didn’t find more magic to feed it with, the Break would be wiped out of the multiverse before the rest of the fleet had made it through.

  But there was no more magic.

  There wasn’t enough spare in the pirates’ world.

  It wasn’t going to work.

  The schism was going to close and take what was left of the world with it.

  It had all been for nothing. Some of them would be left behind after all.

  Flick’s arms dropped a fraction, and the schism shrank a little more.

  She was failing.

  A hand touched her elbow.

  “Felicity?”

  She shook her head.

  The touch turned into a grip. “Felicity. Flick. Look at me.”

  Feeling like she was made of lead, Flick turned and looked at Avery. She wanted to tell Avery she was sorry she hadn’t been able to do it, but she couldn’t speak. It was as though Avery was somehow right there, and a million miles away at the same time.

  But Flick could hear her.

  “You’re doing it,” Avery said. “You’re saving them! You just have to hold on a little bit longer. You’re stronger than it is. Aren’t you?” She made a determined face, and Flick felt her chest clench. “I know you can do this. You’re the only one who can, Flick. You just need to show it who’s boss, okay?”

  Flick’s mind turned back to the schism. The devouring space between worlds.

  And she made a decision.

  She stopped channeling the magic from the pirates’ world. And took it from somewhere else instead.

  Instantly, it was like lightning was coursing down her veins. Magic fizzed through her blood from somewhere else. Not the world around her. Not from the new world below. Not from the falling people moving through the schism.

  Not even from any of the worlds visible through the tears in the sky.

  This magic was a different kind.

  This magic came from inside Flick.

  Where the magic in the air and surrounding the schism was the fluttering white-gold Flick knew and loved, the magic that now burned under her skin was the same as the magic at the mouth of the schism—a deep red-black that scalded her blood and shot out of her before she had chance to think that it might not be a good idea to use it.

  Avery let go of Flick’s arm as though it were on fire.

  The schism yawned wider as the magic flowing straight from Flick’s heart crashed into it.

  Flick barely noticed. Her blood vessels felt as if they had been replaced by electric cables, humming with power beneath her skin. She could feel the magic flowing straight out of her like she was a conduit, a battery, a power station. She couldn’t say how long she stood there. It was enough time for every ship to sail over the edge, though Flick could no longer see them. It was enough time for every mer-person and even every fish to leap from ocean to ocean, though Flick could no longer hear them.

  Flick was lost in the power of the magic. Nothing else was real. She didn’t even know how to stop.

  Eventually, she realized she was falling.

  She felt the breakers inside her clanging down, cutting off the power.

  And she pitched forward, over the edge of the world, toward a closing schism.

  33

  Jonathan watched from the lighthouse world as the deep red of the schism suddenly contracted. It pulsed for a moment and then began to close as though someone had tied a string around it.

  He grabbed the lighthouse railing. Horror ran through him.

  “Oh my god—Flick and Avery, they’re not through yet!” He stared at the closing schism in desperation. All these people saved, and they didn’t make it? He dug his nails into the wood.

  The schism closed up completely.

  The darkness in the sky was wiped away, replaced by clear blue.

  Jonathan sagged against the side of the railing, his muscles refusing to support him any longer. “No.” He shook his head. “No…”

  “Look! Sir, look!” A sailor who had come ashore from the Onslaught shook his shoulder. “There!”

  Jonathan turned so quickly his neck almost snapped. Then he gasped.

  Tumbling through the air like dolls were three human shapes. They were buffeted to and fro by the wind, but falling quickly like rocks down toward the water.

  “Oh my god, they’ll be killed,” Jonathan choked.

  But then there was a huge surge of water. A great shape rose from the depths and leapt, with all the grace of a blue whale, to catch the falling people.

  Leviatha caught Felicity, Avery, and Nyfe in her hands, then fell back into the water with a thunderous SPLASH that rolled out across the ocean.

  * * *

  “Wake up, girl. Rise and shine.”

  Flick winced with her eyes shut.

  Someone tapped her face. “Come on, get those eyes open.”

  “Get out of the way,” another voice snapped. Then: “Felicity Hudson, open your eyes and sit up this instant, do you hear me?”

  “Go ’way,” Flick managed to croak.

  “Well, if you can be rude, there’s not a lot wrong with you.”

  She heard the smile in Jonathan’s voice.

  Flick rubbed her eyes before opening them. She was lying on the deck of a ship, several dozen faces peering down at her in amusement and relief.

  “She lives!” Captain Burnish yelled into the air. There was a roar of appreciation from behind him, and several sailors broke out into applause.

  Flick sat up and was immediately flattened again by several blankets being thrown at her. She hadn’t realized it, but she was wet, and though this world was warm, she was getting cold. She tucked one of the blankets around her shoulders. “Where’s Avery?”

  Jonathan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “In the sickbay. Don’t worry,” he said, as Flick made to get up. “She’s fine. Promise.”

  Flick rubbed her forehead. “What about Nyfe?”

  “Up and about as soon as her boots touched the deck.” Jonathan rolled his eyes. “She’s talking to Katyo now. They’re sending out parties to map this world.”

  “Never a wasted moment, is there?” Flick smiled as she was handed a cup of fresh water. She wasn’t thirsty, but felt that she probably ought to drink it. She sipped. “So, what happened?”

  Jonathan sat down beside her. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “I remember trying to keep the schism open,” Flick said, avoiding mentioning the red-hot darkness that had seemed to come from deep inside herself. She couldn’t talk about that yet. Especially not with half of the Serpent’s crew listening in. “And then I remember falling.…”

  “Mm.” Jonathan pushed his glasses up his nose. “Yes. I saw you fall.”

  “Bet you enjoyed that.”

  “It was about as much fun as kissing a sea urchin.”

  “And Leviatha caught us.” Flick smiled as the memory came rushing back to her.

  “Oh, you remember that? Yes, she caught you. Brought you straight to us before going ba
ck under. Amazing, really…” He trailed off. “You know, no one quite knows what to do with you. Captain Burnish wants to give you a title, but you’re not a pirate or part of any crew, so there’s a bit of discussion there. But everyone’s so grateful. I’ve already declined two offers of marriage on your behalf—I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, that’s fine.” Flick drained the cup. “Thanks.”

  “Not at all. I figured you’d rather not have a husband with wooden teeth.”

  Flick didn’t reply, just watched the sailors bustle around the ship, making it seaworthy again. On the island with the lighthouse, she could see a scouting party already walking off in search of food and water.

  “I told them the lighthouse is out of bounds,” Jonathan said. “They were more than happy to agree to leave it be. I doubt they’ll want to stay on this island, anyway. None of the people here were made to stay still for very long. They’re seafarers.”

  “Are there other islands in this world?”

  “Katyo seemed to think so. He said something about the flow of water indicating more land.”

  Flick got to her feet, and she and Jonathan went to sit on the steps that led from the deck to the helm. There were several ships floating close by. The Serpent was bobbing about as they walked, and Flick could hear banging and crashing from the outside of the hull.

  “They’re recycling some of the floorboards to repair the hull,” Jonathan explained. “I tell you, if they find a forest on this world, they’re going to think all their Christmases have come at once.”

  Flick frowned. “They won’t chop it all down, will they?”

  Jonathan shrugged. “I doubt it. Unlike the people of our world, the pirates know the value of living trees. They’ll take what they need to be seaworthy and be on their way. They’ve been given a second chance. I can’t see them wasting it.”

  * * *

  Avery was holding a thick wad of bandage to her face when Flick and Jonathan got down to the sick bay.

  “You said she was fine!” Flick shoved Jonathan down the last two steps and ran over to Avery. “What happened?”

  “Freak accident,” Avery said. “Leviatha got me onto the deck fine, but I tripped over some rope. Caught my face on the edge of a barrel.” She lifted the bandage away to reveal a cut along her jaw, from her chin up to her ear. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, Avery.” Flick’s heart sank. “Your face.”

  “Gruesome, isn’t it?” Avery tried to smile, but all that happened was her lip sort of wobbled.

  “We need to get you back,” Jonathan said. “You need a proper hospital.”

  “I know. Would you tell Burnish and everyone that we need to leave?”

  “Of course.” Jonathan went back up the steps onto the deck and disappeared.

  Flick looked back at Avery. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m still the best looking out of the three of us.”

  A little bubble of a laugh escaped from Flick’s mouth. “God, you’re annoying.”

  “I know.” Avery met her eye, and Flick shook her head. The two of them smiled, and Flick wondered if she might actually like Avery less if she stopped being so annoying. Avery wouldn’t be herself if she stopped, that was for sure. Flick remembered the way they’d held pinkie fingers as they drifted on the ocean, and she suddenly wanted to hide her hands in her sleeves.

  As if reading her thoughts, Avery put the bandage back to her face. “I suppose I should thank you for the whole world-saving thing.”

  “I didn’t save the world, though,” Flick pointed out. “I destroyed it.”

  “You saved the people. A world isn’t just a place on a map. It’s the people. It’s the way it runs. The friends that hold it together. That’s what a world is, really. It’s the love.”

  Flick didn’t know what to say to that. The sensation of the Break crumbling as she drained it of magical energy was still fresh. Even now she could feel her fingers tingling, her blood singing. She had destroyed an entire world.

  And the knowledge that she could do it again frightened her. It frightened her so much she wanted never to talk about what had happened. No one else had ever felt like this. No one else had done what she could do.

  Or had they…?

  Her memory stirred, replaying a thought from just before the schism opened. The circle’s magic was being taken. By something. Or someone.

  Flick swallowed. If there was someone else out there, with the same powers as her, that would make her feel less alone. But maybe they weren’t using their powers for good.

  The thought made her sit down suddenly on the low bench beside Avery.

  “Hey, you okay?” Avery scooted over to make room.

  Flick pulled the eye patch out of her pocket. “Just thinking.” She twisted the strap in her hands, and then pulled it over her head, fitting the embroidery-covered glass over one eye.

  Avery was looking at her closely, an uncharacteristically hesitant expression on her face. “Back there in the Break, it seemed like… it seemed like you were out of magic. But then you kept going. What happened?”

  “I’m not sure,” Flick lied. How could she say the extra magic had come from within her? How could she ever explain how she’d used some of the magic that powered her own life, but was still here to tell the tale? It was unnatural, frightening, gross. She knew, somehow, that she hadn’t affected her own lifespan, either. The magic had almost been… created by her. But was that even possible? To create magic? “I don’t know how I did it,” she repeated. “But I’d like to find out.” She lifted the covering up off the eye patch and looked through the glass, smiling as a waft of white-gold glitter curtained in front of her. “Oh,” she breathed, “there’s so much magic here!”

  “Yeah?” Avery looked around, blind to what Flick could see.

  “So much. It’s like we’re swimming in it. It’s gorgeous.” Flick trailed a hand through the air. “It must have come through the schism with us.”

  “What does that mean? Is it a good thing?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think it means that the pirates won’t have to worry about losing years off their lives.” Flick wrote her name in the air with a finger, parting the particles of magic. “I think they’re going to be just fine.” She lifted the eye patch up to her forehead.

  Avery nodded. “You’re so made for this. For Strangeworlds.”

  Flick snorted.

  “No, I mean it. You care. You care so much. I mean, lots of people care about money, or whatever. But you care about the important things.”

  Flick looked at her.

  Avery’s face, half-hidden by the bandage, wore a soft expression.

  Flick smiled. “Thanks, I guess.” She fidgeted with the eye patch, putting it back on and peeking through it at Avery. A thin glittering line of magic shone where the cut on her face was healing, and it gave Flick an idea. “Take that bandage away,” she said happily. “I think I can do something about that cut.”

  34

  And, by the authority I have as captain, I would like to present you with this ceremonial whistle.” Captain Burnish handed Flick a small brass whistle shaped like a fish. “Can be heard over many miles, if you’ve got the lungs for it.”

  “Thank you.” Flick beamed. “I’ll treasure it.”

  “And as Commander of the Fleet,” Nyfe added, “my crew and I would like you to have this.” She snapped her fingers. A man hurried forward, carrying—

  “A suitcase?” Jonathan called out from the watching crowd.

  Flick grinned as she took it. “Are you sure you want to give this up?” she asked Nyfe. “Isn’t it handed from captain to captain?”

  “It’s no use to us,” Nyfe said. “It never has been, since it leads to a desert. But you might find it comes in useful. We don’t have any need for magical travel. You saved us all, Flick. I’d have you as part of my crew in a heartbeat. You just say the word.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” Flick said. “But I
should be going home before it gets too late. I’ve got to try to sneak back into bed before my dad’s alarm goes off.”

  “Mm, we’re cutting it close,” Jonathan muttered, looking at his watch. “It’s half past three in the morning.”

  Flick put the suitcase down and turned to Burnish and Nyfe. “Can I ask something of you both?”

  “I suppose you can ask,” Burnish said.

  “Would you shake hands?” Flick asked. Nyfe looked shocked. “And promise to try to listen to each other from now on?” she added. “I’m not saying you have to be friends, but you don’t have to be enemies either. Just stop this pointless rivalry. You almost lost a world over it. Don’t make the same mistakes again.”

  The two captains shuffled about on the deck like they were six-year-olds who had been told by their teacher to apologize.

  Flick folded her arms. “Come on, who wants to be the grown-up?”

  Burnish sighed, turning to Nyfe. “The girl’s right. This is a chance for a clean slate. What happened, happened. Can we start again?” He offered a hand, the mer-person inked onto his forearm colorful in the sunlight.

  Nyfe looked at the offered hand, and for a moment, Flick thought she might refuse it. But instead, she clasped his hand. “Let the past be the past, eh?” She grinned. “Dad.”

  Burnish blushed under his beard. “Right you are. No sense in bringing grievances through with us.”

  Nyfe nodded. “I was shortsighted. I can see that much, now.”

  “Ambition isn’t a bad thing,” Burnish said. “But it shouldn’t come at the cost of people.”

  They stared at each other for a moment; then Nyfe gave her father’s hand a single shake before letting go.

  Burnish clapped his hands together. “Now. How about showing your old man around this tub, eh?”

  Nyfe grinned. “This way.” And with that, the crowd of watching sailors began to disperse, and Flick went back over to Jonathan and Avery.

  “I think we’ve been forgotten,” she said.

  “Good,” Avery said. “They don’t need us anymore.”

  “That’s the way it should be,” Jonathan said. “And now, home.” He kicked open the suitcase that led back to Strangeworlds. “After you, Felicity.”