“There!” Laverick shouts.
A great hump ascends out of the water. The whale’s sleek back is pockmarked with harpoon scars. Dorcha has terrorized the seas for decades, plunging back and forth between our world and the seas beyond. Mariners have sought to slaughter him and win the praise of his defeat, but he has always eluded his assailants.
Dorcha’s arrival delivers a blow of urgency to the crew. Sailors tie off the lines of the longboat and man their stations. I tug out a tin whistle from my pocket while replaying Radella’s instructions in my mind. At first, her directions for addressing the whale seemed strange. Now, in the throes of roaring waves, they feel inexcusably foolish.
Placing the tin whistle between my lips, I blow four times, long and loud, to cut through the winds. Radella insisted this noise is the closest sound to a whale call that a human can make. If she were not my ambassador from the Everwoods, I would not listen to her.
Dorcha races at us, the booms of thunder and lightning strikes coming nearer, as though he’s towing the storm. Thick as the ship and half its length, the whale swims up to and alongside our port side. Rain pours down his shiny back. Amid his white scars, enormous barnacles cling to his fluke and chin.
“Why do you disturb Dorcha, Time Bearer?”
The whale’s voice could itself be thunder, the booming rumble vibrating my insides. In addition to that voice, he emits a long, low-frequency call, unlike any whistle I have heard. Vevina and Claret join me at the gunwale.
“What’s he doing?” Claret asks.
“I think he’s trying to speak to us,” Vevina answers.
“He spoke to me,” I say. They both draw back in surprise. “You didn’t hear him?”
“You did?” Claret challenges.
Neither seems to have heard the whale’s gut-shaking voice. Radella warned me Dorcha is selective with whom he communicates, and that should he speak to me, his contact would be private. I understand her meaning now, even though I have no concept of how it’s done.
The whale expels another loud, low call that translates to words inside my mind. “Dorcha has been pestered by your hammering clock, human. The incessant ticktock grows tiresome. What do you want?”
His voice rings inside my head, whereas I respond aloud. “I need you to lead me to Prince Killian Markham.”
Vevina shouts over the wind. “What is he saying?”
I raise a palm to silence her.
“Dorcha will require compensation,” says the whale, swimming alongside the ship. He lifts his head, his small, glassy eye staring at us.
“I have your payment.” I pull out the velvet pouch. “Two handfuls of pixie dust.” Radella insisted that the whale would covet the treasure. Pixies do not live in the Land Under the Wave. In Dorcha’s world, such dust is rare and highly prized, and he would use it to disappear his pesky barnacles. “Will you show us the way?”
“Dorcha’s world was not made for humans. Your timepieces shout at you and order you about. Our days and nights flow along seamlessly, a gentle current like the sands of time. If you go there, you must surrender to our tides.”
Father Time must know my ticker can withstand the change, or he would not have suggested that I follow Markham. “Take me and a small party to the prince and let me worry about my heart.”
“You’re bold, Time Bearer. Bring the pixie dust and Dorcha will take you, but you must swear that the two-legged vermin with you will let Dorcha pass.”
“You have my word.”
“Your word on what?” Vevina asks.
“Dorcha will take us through the portal.”
Vevina snatches the pouch of pixie dust from my grasp and tucks it behind her. I gape as she shouts over the wind. “I’m sorry, Everley. I can’t let you do that.”
“But . . . but Dorcha said he’ll guide us to the Otherworld.”
“We aren’t going.”
Claret and a second sailor grasp my wrists and yank them back, restraining me. Down the way, Laverick and her gun teams position the cannons with harpoons along the rail.
“Vevina, don’t do this,” I say, trying to wrench free. “I made a bargain with Dorcha. You have to call off the harpoons.”
“I can’t, Everley. I can’t risk my crew. Magic cannot be trusted.”
My clock heart thuds faster. “But what about your treasure?”
“The Terrible Dorcha is a big enough prize.” Vevina holds on to her hat before a gust can lift it away. “I have to consider the good of all the crew, including you. We’re safer in this world where we belong.”
Laverick lights the fuses.
“No!” I stomp on Claret’s foot and elbow my other captor in the nose. Twisting from their grip, I skid across the deck for the cannons.
Boom!
Boom!
The guns fire, ricocheting back, their rear ropes catching their powerful recoils. Roaring fills my head, punctuated by an angry whistle. I duck down and cover my ringing ears.
“Traitorous land vermin!” Dorcha howls, shooting air out his blowhole.
Waves slosh onto the deck through the gaps in the gunwale. As Dorcha yowls, I crawl through the receding waters and peer through an opening in the rail. Both harpoons found their target; one embedded in his back and the other deeper in his side.
The monstrous whale rolls toward the ship, pushing a wave at us. I scramble to my feet, and the water soaks me from the waist down.
“Intruders off the starboard!” the watchman warns.
Our pursuers have caught up to us, just minutes from our flank. Though the second-rate bark is a smaller vessel, she carries approximately the same number of guns. Sailors in gray uniforms man their top decks and arm their cannons. Unlike our crew of convicts and renegade sailors, they are well trained.
Dorcha rolls toward our ship, crashing against the hull and toppling Vevina and me to our knees. A bolt of lightning strikes the foremast, igniting the wood and canvas in a shower of sparks. In seconds, the sails burn bright and smoke pours into the heavens.
So much has gone wrong I cannot decide which disaster deserves the bulk of my horror. Whether luck or fate has interfered, this feels like sabotage.
Claret hugs the rail as another surge washes over her. Drenched from crown to foot, she looks like a drowned kitten.
“Captain,” she cries, “we’re taking on water.”
Cracking noises carry up through the floorboards. Laverick’s teams rush to rearm the harpoon cannons. The naval ship pulls back from entering our firing range and avoids colliding with us in the swells.
The pouch of pixie dust hangs from Vevina’s hand. I snatch it from her and lurch to the gunwale. Dorcha has broken off the top harpoon, but the pole in his side is jammed in our hull. His fluke slaps the surface as he struggles to unpin himself, splashing the cannons and their teams.
Dorcha dives, pulling the port side down and tipping the burning mast toward the water. Gripping the rail, I sense the beat of my ticker weakening. I glance down the front of my shirt at the minute hand spinning clockwise. My ticker did this when I was near the gate to the Everwoods, at the edge of our world. We must be close to the portal.
The longboat we moved near the gunwale swings in the wind. Maybe if I can get down into the water with the whale, I can reason with him. I catch the lines, and the dangling boat nearly pitches me overboard. The lines are too taut and the boat too heavy for me to lower myself.
The whale bashes the hull, opening a wider hole. Raging waters rush into the lower decks near the bow, where Jamison’s cabin is located.
I swerve across the slanted deck, evading raining embers, and clamber belowdecks. Water pours down the ladder, covering the floor to my ankles.
“Everley,” Harlow calls from the main hold, tugging at her chains. “Let me out!”
I slog past her down the corridor as the floor steadily tilts to the port side. Jamison’s cabin door hangs open, the entry unguarded. He wrenches on his chains and tries to pull the iron peg from the wall. I sl
osh into the now shin-high water, careful not to fall in.
“Evie?” he says in surprise. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Someday when I come to visit you, you’re going to be happy to see me. Where did your guard go?”
“He left as soon as the hull was breached.”
The bastard ran with the hammer we need to release the peg from its manacles.
I grab his chain. Jamison braces a foot against the wall for leverage, and I lean back with my total weight. We pull together, but the peg stays in.
Jamison bends over his knees, winded. “Next time you come to save me, perhaps you could bring the right tools.”
He should be grateful I don’t have them or I might knock him over the head with one.
“It wasn’t foremost on my mind. Things up top aren’t going as planned.”
“Yes, well, that seems to be our luck.”
The ship jolts and the boards in the hull break open. Splinters fly and gushing water showers us in debris. We huddle together, Jamison’s body leaning over mine. A whale fin fills the hole and then rips out again.
Salt water pours inside the gap, the water level rising to my knees. I pull out my carving knife and Jamison holds out his wrists. I use the blade to pry the peg out of the manacles and remove them.
“Another navy ship has found us,” I say. “Radella is waiting with our longboat.”
“Is the ship heavily armed?”
“Yes. Why?”
“We need to get to that longboat,” he replies, urging me forward.
I pause to go back for his violin case floating across the room. “Your violin—”
“Leave it. There isn’t time.”
We wade into the corridor against the current, bracing against each other so we aren’t swept away. Crew members run past and shove their way onto the ladder. One man pushes aside a woman, knocking her down. I help her up while Jamison grabs the back of the sailor’s shirt and hauls him to the floor.
“Wait your turn,” he orders.
We send the woman up first, then let the man follow.
“Lieutenant Callahan,” Harlow calls from across the main hold, in direct sight of the ladder. “You cannot leave me!”
The other prisoners have escaped their confines or the guards have let them loose. I understand why they left her locked up. Everyone on board knows Harlow is Markham’s consort and spy.
Jamison and I are next in line for the ladder. The ship lurches again, spilling more water down the open hatch. I sidestep the waterfall, and Jamison hesitates.
“She doesn’t deserve it,” I say. “Harlow would leave us and never look back.”
“We aren’t her.”
He extends his hand to me. I reluctantly slap the handle of my carving knife into his palm. He wades to Harlow and unlocks her.
We follow her up the ladder and stagger onto the main deck, arriving in the middle of so much chaos I can scarcely believe that not long ago we were sailing calm seas. The three of us grip a line for safety while Jamison and Harlow take in the bombardment of disasters.
Though the rain has begun to extinguish the high flames, the foremast still burns and the topsails are scorched. Dorcha wails and thrashes alongside us, slowly sinking the ship on the port side, where my longboat is tethered.
Vevina and the Fox and the Cat have sought shelter from the fire by the stairway to the upper deck. Captain Vevina attempts to climb to the helm, but the ship’s violent rocking sends her back down the stairs again.
The second-rate ship rides the mountainous waves beside us, its cannons aimed at our deck. Its captain, distinguished by his dark jacket, tan trousers, and wide-brimmed hat, stands on the upper deck beside the helm. Next to him, a man dressed in court finery peers at us through a spyglass. Jamison ducks his head and turns his back to them.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“The queen’s secretary of state, Secretary Winters.”
I calculate the timing of their voyage. “To be here, the ship would have to have left Dorestand soon after we voyaged to the isle. That was months ago.”
“Queen Aislinn must have suspected Markham wasn’t wholly honest with her,” Jamison says. “They’ll ask us to surrender. Where’s Quinn?”
“She’s with Alick. We’ve discussed what to do if they’re captured.”
“Good. Lead the way to the longboat.”
We cross the deck, and like a human barnacle, Harlow follows. The three of us skid down the sloped planks, hanging on to lines and rigging to slow our descent. The ship is so tilted the longboat hangs over the gunwale, above open water.
The vessel shudders, plunging to its lowest point on the port side. Then the world swings as the entire ship flings in the opposite direction. The sudden propulsion ripples across the deck, a rapid-fire avalanche of toppling people and sliding bodies. We duck below our boat, and it swings wildly overhead.
Dorcha has broken free. His grumbly voice sounds inside my head.
“Time Bearer, you deceived Dorcha!”
“I didn’t betray you! My partners had second thoughts.” My clock heart spins faster around and around. “Our bargain stands. I still have the pixie dust. It’s yours, just as we agreed.”
“You try Dorcha’s patience.”
“Father Time has ordered me to go to your world. You must take me.”
“Dorcha must do nothing.” The whale discharges air out of his blowhole again. “But because you’re his Time Bearer, Dorcha will honor our bargain.”
The whale dives into the base of an incoming tidal wave. I hold on to a line as the ship rides the slope up and races down the other side. A sailor mans our helm, but maintaining control over the damaged vessel in these seas is perilous.
The second ship barrels after us, steering masterfully up and down the huge wall of water. We reach the bottom of the wave, and before climbing the next, Jamison untangles the lines of the longboat.
“Get in!” he says.
I pull myself up and into the bottom. Radella’s head pops out from the pocket of my bag, gets splattered by rain, and ducks inside again. Harlow starts to hoist herself up into the boat.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She points my carving knife at me, which she must have pinched from Jamison. “I’m going with you.”
I could draw my short sword on her and force her out, but Dorcha is waiting.
“Fine,” I say, and she slides in.
As our ship scales another tall wave, Jamison starts to lower the longboat over the side of the gunwale, dangling us over the sea. Before we lose sight of the deck, I see Vevina, Claret, and Laverick scrambling after us.
“We’re coming!” Laverick calls.
Now they want to follow the plan?
They climb onto the rail to jump down. The vessel pursuing us stays off our starboard bow as we mount another wave. The angled pitch of our ship unsteadies the women. Laverick falls forward and lands in the boat on top of Harlow. Vevina manages to hold on, but Claret falls off as well and plummets through the gap between the longboat and the hull. She screams as she drops and then goes silent when she hits the water.
“Claret!” Laverick cries, peering over the edge.
Vevina and Jamison watch with us from above as Claret resurfaces and drifts into the wake of the ship.
Captain Vevina shoves at Jamison. “Go get her, Lieutenant.”
He carefully leaps down into the boat with us. Together, we swiftly lower our watercraft into the stormy sea.
As we release ourselves to the sweeping currents, a wave whams us and tosses Harlow overboard. I grasp at my drenched cloak and blink to clear my vision. Jamison reaches for Harlow, but the rippling surges sweep her farther out, toward Claret.
A mountain of seawater rises steadily before us, taller and taller until it surpasses the height of the ship. Jamison and I row quickly to escape the path of the colossal wave, but our oars are worthless against the rollers.
Waves heave Claret and Harlow about,
thwarting their efforts to swim for our boat. A dark shape rises in the sea behind them. Claret flails and kicks harder, but the Terrible Dorcha speeds up and opens his huge mouth. She flows inside his gullet with the rushing waters.
The huge whale swims at us, the wave looming higher, on the crest of crashing down. He swallows Harlow next, gobbling her right down, and then his gruff voice booms through my mind.
“Dorcha warned you, Time Bearer.”
Just as the tidal wave starts to fall on us, our longboat pours into the whale’s cavernous mouth, deep into a storybook abyss.
Chapter Three
Jamison’s grip on my elbow is so tight it almost hurts. Our surroundings have dimmed and hushed, the raging storm and sea far away. The tepid air smells of rotten fish. Its noxious stench makes me gag.
Over the sloshing water, the sound of breathing resonates all around us. My disbelief renders me speechless. We are inside the whale.
When I asked the Terrible Dorcha to take us to the Land Under the Wave, this was not what I expected.
Something near my foot starts to glow, growing brighter until I distinguish Radella. The pixie is the same blue as the heart of a flame. I haven’t seen her glow for some time. I had nearly forgotten her luminescence.
Our boat sits in a sludge of water that gleams with slicks of oil. Dead fish and shellfish bob in the slop. The water is deep enough for our boat to float despite Jamison, Laverick, and I weighing it down. Dorcha’s mouth is located at our backs, his teeth reflecting Radella’s blue light, but her radiance is too faint to peel back the darkness before us.
My clock heart spins and spins. The sail oil I slathered across my chest has outlasted the rain and salt water, but the slippery thickness has diminished. I cannot find the pouch of pixie dust. I must have lost it when we were swallowed.
“Help,” says a faint voice.
Radella darts out over the water, expanding our view. The dark-red innards of the whale are ribbed and slimy. His belly arches from one side to the other, a cavernous wall. Radella stops above Harlow, who is floating at the surface. Harlow rouses when she sees the pixie and swims after her to the boat in wide strokes. Jamison extends our single remaining oar to her. She grasps it and he pulls her in. Harlow clutches the side of the boat, her face pasty.
Into the Hourglass Page 3