by Ellen Renner
Something soft and warm and smelling of monkey was stroking her face.
“Scoundrel?” Hope pushed back the grey blanket pressing on her. Storm opened her eyes. It was night-time, and she was lying on her side on damp pavement.
Memory returned and, with a gasp, Storm sat up. Scoundrel was crouched on his haunches beside her, peering into her face. The monkey seemed reassured by what he saw. He immediately grabbed Storm’s hand and began to tug, squealing at her to get up.
Storm gazed into the dark. People were scurrying around, carrying torches, shouting. All seemed confusion, but there was no sign of the Fire-witch. Storm realised she couldn’t have been unconscious for more than a few moments. And that Scoundrel was right: it was time to get out of here!
At least one person was dead because of her. The square was a scene of devastation: buildings damaged by wind, half burned by fire. There were bound to be more injuries, perhaps deaths. The town guards would be here soon, and if she was found she would be in danger of permanent incarceration by the Pact. She could hardly blame Talon, looking about her. She felt sick with guilt.
Storm pushed to her feet, fought off a spell of dizziness. Where she had been lying was a puddle of melting ice water. Shivering, she stumbled after Scoundrel, content to let the monkey lead her where it would. “I’m in your hands, Tortoise,” she whispered as she turned her back on the latest proof that the Salamander seriously wanted her dead.
She had to go slowly. Her legs did not seem to work as they used to, refusing to follow one another in a straight line. Storm staggered side to side, rebounding off walls in the dark alleyways, pausing to rest against the hard brick of sleeping houses.
Her heart was stuttering, skipping beats. She felt ill to her core. Storm hadn’t felt this unwell since catching the wasting fever, when she was still a child. She had nearly died. Dain had nursed her to health. So long ago. Perhaps she would see Ma soon, in the land of the spirits. Part of her wanted to stop right here, leaning against a stranger’s house. To lie down and not get up again.
Scoundrel grabbed her trouser leg, tugged, chattering angrily. His claws scratched and the pain roused her. Storm sighed, took a deep breath to combat the pain and nausea she knew were waiting, and pushed away from the wall. She began to walk, following the Earth-witch’s monkey into the night.
The night darkened further, and Storm looked up to see the moon had fallen at last into the sea. Dawn was still far off but the night would end eventually, and she needed to be somewhere safe when it did. Only there was no place left on Bellum Island that was safe for her.
It was only when they were stumbling slowly down the harbour road itself that Storm began to notice where they were heading. Scoundrel was taking her to the old warehouse cave where she had met the other witches. The monkey tugged, scolded, even beat at her with his tiny fists when she paused for too long. Once he threatened her with his sharp teeth, and she simply laughed wearily before staggering on.
They were lucky. No guards stumbled across them in the dark, and those people who did see them making their wavering, slow journey across the town must have assumed that she was just one of hundreds of drunken sailors travelling back to their night-time berths.
When Storm at last lifted deadened legs over the tumble of rubble at the mouth of the cave, she was too tired to do more than wince at the light that immediately flared.
“Thank the Ancestors!” The Earth-witch approached, carrying a lamp. “Are you hurt?”
“Just weary. Too much magic, I think. I need sleep.”
“No time, I’m afraid. Your journey has only begun. You must leave Bellum tonight. It is too dangerous for you to stay longer.”
“Journey where?” Storm blinked, shook her head to try to clear it. “There’s nowhere to go. The Fire-witch—”
“I know about the attack.”
“How did you…” Storm sighed. She was obviously too tired even to think straight. “Did she survive? Do you know that?”
“I don’t. The Tortoise told me of the attack and that you were battling for your life. I sent Scoundrel at once. The spirit said you would win.”
“Huh.” She shook her head, sudden tears burning her eyes. “It doesn’t feel like it. A guard died! Perhaps others. It’s my fault!”
“You haven’t time for self-pity.”
She glared at him.
“You didn’t start the fight,” said the old man, “and you are not responsible for those who are killed because the Salamander has no respect for life. The Fire Elemental is to blame, although I do not think the spirits understand such terms.”
“Why do they have so much power without…”
“Without empathy? What we presume to call ‘humanity’? One of the One’s mysteries, I suppose. Although some say even the One did not create the Elementals. We must simply do our best, Storm. The Tortoise has spoken to me. You are to leave Bellum now, tonight.”
“But what about the civil war? Talon?”
“Change is coming. My sources tell me that Waffa is opening secret negotiations with the leaders of the rebellion tomorrow. Doubtless she will challenge Talon for leadership. I think she will win. Hard as she is, she is no fool and knows that the Fifteen’s days are numbered if they do not change. You have more work to do here, but now it is important that you survive. In order to do that, you must leave the island.”
“How?”
“From this cave. The lava wall that protects the harbour is not this island’s only mystery. Come, I will show you.”
The Earth-witch took her arm and guided her deeper into the ancient warehouse. When they reached the rear of the cave, the yellow light of the lantern showed a jagged crack in the wall.
“Through there?” Storm hoped he would say no. The fissure must have been made by an earthquake and the idea of squeezing into the narrow opening was seriously unpleasant.
The Earth-witch nodded. “I will go first. Take care, the ground will be uneven.”
He disappeared through the crack, taking the light with him. Storm sighed and squeezed through after the old man. Suddenly, she felt the oppressive weight of a mountain of clay and rock overhead. She was burrowing into the stone gut of Bellum Island.
It was too narrow to walk side by side so the old man led, lighting the way with his lantern. Storm paced behind him and last of all came Scoundrel, his tiny feet making soft pattering noises that were oddly comforting.
It was difficult going and they travelled slowly, crunching through rubble stone, pausing to climb waist-high blocks of rocks fallen from the ceiling of the crack. The walls of the fissure widened, grew moist, and then damp. The rocks they clambered over and around became treacherously slick with clay. Even the air she breathed changed: it tasted of deep, dark water. Of moss and slime. Of immense age.
So she was not surprised when they emerged from the crack in the earth on to a subterranean beach. Shingle crunched beneath her feet. Water lapped, restless, invisible, somewhere beyond the circle of lantern light. But it wasn’t the sound of the underground sea that took Storm’s breath away. It was what lay above them.
They had emerged into some sort of natural cavern. The reverberations of their footsteps made her think the cave was large although the ceiling hung only an arm-reach overhead. And it was alive with light! Storm stared up, mesmerised. Everywhere she looked she saw dots and chains of glowing blue-green lights.
“What are they?” she gasped.
“Glow-worms,” said the Earth-witch. “Small creatures that live only here, far under the earth.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her tiredness was forgotten for a moment. There was something truly magical about the carpet of glowing lights overhead. Like a constellation of blue-green stars that had never seen the sky.
“Yes. One of Bellum Island’s most precious treasures, but one that cannot be traded or bartered. Come now. The boat is this way.”
“Boat?” Storm stumbled after the Earth-witch, trying to look up at the glow-worms and
walk at the same time. Scoundrel took her hand and pulled her after him with a wheeze of irritation. She had to smile: she would miss the creature’s nagging. Her eyes grew hot. Where was she going? Wherever it was, it would be alone.
The ground began to slope downwards. The scent of ancient water increased, and at last Storm saw a pebbled shoreline and an expanse of black water that stretched out into the invisible distance. Its surface was as still as polished marble, and the reflections of the glow-worms shone in the water like drowned stars. Green as the Snake Star – guiding star of all sailors. Storm’s thoughts were stilled by wonder.
The lake lay before them, its surface unbroken by the slightest breath of wind. It seemed ensorcelled. A small canoe floated a few paces from shore, its mooring line tied to a large stone. The Earth-witch reached down, untied the line and drew the boat towards them. It glided soundlessly to shore, its wake carving ripples in the water.
He turned, handed the line to her. “This is your path, Storm. Let the Dolphin take you through the caves – it is a labyrinth, but the Water spirit will guide you. The boy will be waiting for you, when you come out from under the earth.”
“Who?” She was exhausted; getting confused. The glow-worm light was hypnotic. She simply wanted to stare up at it and forget everything. “Who will be waiting?”
“The boy, Cloud. The glow-worm caves will take you to the outside. Outside Bellum Island itself. The labyrinth extends under the seabed to one of the small satellite islands outside the lava wall. The islands are too small for habitation. Only a few fisher-folk ever visit and never at night.
“The underwater river will take you there. It rises and flows out of the earth into a small cove on the out-island. With the help of the other witches, I have arranged for Cloud to be waiting for you with a seaworthy canoe. Big enough for the two of you to leave this place and find your uncle’s ship.”
“You shouldn’t have involved Cloud!”
“He seems eager to help. He said something about you not being the only one allowed to have adventures.” He smiled at her, a kind smile of understanding. “And now, we say goodbye.”
She bit her lip. “Thank you. I … I will miss you. And Scoundrel.” The words came out gruffly. Now that the time had come, she just wanted to be gone. She could not bear to look at the cling-monkey who was still holding tight to her hand. “Thank the others for me. Will I see you again?”
“When the time comes, you will find me. I am called Linnet. I came to Bellum several seasons ago to wait for you and prepare. Now I can return home. My island is on the edge of the world, but the right boat will find it, if the ship is sound and the sailor’s heart true. Remember what I have said.”
She nodded. “Goodbye, Linnet. Goodbye, Scoundrel.”
“Scoundrel goes with you.”
She stared at him, hardly daring to hope. “He can’t. He loves you. Besides, it’s too dangerous.”
“The decision is not yours, Storm. Scoundrel has a job to do, as have you and I. See? He decides for himself!”
With a lash of his tail and a splash of black water, the cling-monkey bounded into the canoe and stood chattering impatiently at Storm.
“Off you go,” said the Earth-witch. He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Travel with my blessing and love. Do your best, Storm, and all will be well. The Elementals have chosen wisely. Remember what I have said: do not depend upon magic. That is not why you were Chosen.”
But magic was all she had to fight with. She bowed low, feeling unwise and far too young. Perhaps she would understand when she was less tired. Storm waded out into the water and climbed into the canoe.
She used a paddle to shove the boat off the gravel bank, then guided it out into the dark vastness of the cave-lake. A current caught at the hull, tugging, and Storm stowed the paddle.
Let the canoe drift where it would. Linnet had promised that the Dolphin would guide her safely through the maze of caverns. She sat, staring up at the countless lights of the glow-worms, Scoundrel a warmth leaning against her side. She hoped he wasn’t missing Linnet too much, for there was no doubting the creature’s love for his master.
Blue-green stars surrounded them, glowing overhead, reflected in the invisible depths of the water beneath her. Storm gave herself up to contemplation of their beauty, putting aside, for this brief time under earth, her fears and worries.
She woke with a start, heart thudding, aware only that she was afraid, without knowing why.
Storm remembered: the old man; the glow-worm caves; Scoundrel. The boat still moved through the black water, but the glow-worms had disappeared. And the monkey’s warmth was gone from her side.
“Scoundrel?” Darkness swallowed her voice, and Storm felt fear rise out of the unseen all around. A hiss came from the bow of the rowing boat – a “pay-attention!” grumble. Storm pushed herself upright. “What is it?”
Before the cling-monkey could admonish her again, she saw a circle of light, dim and faint, ahead in the darkness. They were at the end of the labyrinth! The Dolphin had delivered her to safety and freedom.
“Thank you, Water spirit!” she whispered. There was a quickening of the current. The boat sped forward. The circle of light expanded, pink and shining. Outside, under the sky, it must be dawn. The closer they got, the faster the water flowed, as the underwater river rushed towards the waiting sea.
Freedom! Soon she would see Cloud and her uncle, and be back aboard the Wayfarer! Bellum Island, with all its puzzles and challenges, would be far behind her and she would return home to Yanlin. Safe at home with Minnow! Safe for a season, at least.
Never before had she so looked forward to the monsoon season, when trading, and war, ceased. She would have half a year – much needed and precious time – to unravel the riddle of the Salamander’s scheming and figure out her part in this war between the Elementals. She would have time to practise quiet magic. She would make another flute…
The mouth of light was upon them. Scoundrel bounded up and down in the prow of the canoe, chittering with delight as the little boat leapt from the darkness under earth into the morning of air and water.
And Fire.
Storm saw the line of people waiting for her. Two long war canoes were beached next to a small sea canoe. Slowly, she stood upright in her rowing boat, legs shaking with shock. With a shrill cry, Scoundrel launched himself at her. He climbed her body as though it was a sapling tree and hunched on her shoulders, long arms clinging tight around her neck. Expecting her to save him.
Cloud lay bound and gagged, tumbled on to the shingle of the beach. He was staring at her, angry frustration warring with fear in his eyes. Expecting her to save him.
The Fire-witch stood over him. Her long fingers danced in impatience. Storm barely gave the woman a glance. All her attention, both heart and mind, was focused on the person who waited for her – his eyes never leaving hers, his face as unreadable as ever. His people waded out, grabbed the bow rope and dragged her canoe to shore.
Storm stood, just managing to keep her balance as the boat was dragged high on to the shingled beach of the tree-shrouded cove. The Earth-witch had not betrayed her; she would not believe it. Someone had, but not Linnet. There would be time, perhaps, to find out, before…
Save them. Was it even possible? Perhaps she might be strong enough, lucky enough. She could only try. But one thing she would accomplish, no matter what the cost! She would deal with him: the boy who had condemned her mother to death. Dain would be avenged!
Storm stepped out on to the shingled beach, the crying of seagulls in her ears, and walked forward to meet her enemy: Nim, the Drowned One.
When Nim was two paces away, Storm stopped walking. She gathered her magic as quietly and invisibly as hatred and shock allowed. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw the other Drowned Ones – more than a dozen of them, bows strung and at the ready, arrows notched and pointed. The Fire-witch was a column of red silk on the periphery. The strength of the woman’s magic – and the force of
her hatred – stank like ozone before a lightning storm. Scoundrel’s arms tightened around Storm’s neck, threatened to choke her. Cloud tried to shout something but only spluttered into his gag, his words strangled. Overhead, gulls screamed.
“Hello, Storm.” Nim’s eyes never left her face. He looks older, she thought.
“You’ve had your Choosing. That was the reward your Elders gave you for betraying me.”
He nodded.
“A Child of Fire?”
Nim shook his head. But he did not say which Elemental had Chosen him. Instead, he pointed to the witch guarding Cloud. “We found her in the sea where your whirlwind left her. She was half drowned. We saved her life.”
“I never wanted her death.”
“I believe you. But I doubt you’re glad to see either of us alive. Especially me.”
Storm drew breath, struggling to contain her emotions.
“The Fire-witch told us you would be here.”
Something he had just said was important, but the idea slipped away, like a fish off a hook. She was shaking slightly with the strain of holding in her emotions, her magic. This was it. The moment she had planned, had dreamed of, since she held her dead mother in her arms. Retribution.
He didn’t kill Dain! said her mind-voice. Remember what the young Fire-witch said. The Salamander grows fat on hatred!
“My mother is dead because of you.” Her voice grated like stone. She stared at Nim, heart heavy with hate.
He nodded. His eyes brightened, as though with emotion.
Don’t believe it! Such a liar. He had tricked her too many times. She couldn’t trust him. Never again.
“I never wanted your mother’s death,” said the Drowned One boy. “I liked her. I am sorry. It isn’t enough, I know, but I offer a life for a life.” Nim gestured to where Cloud lay trussed like a parcel on the beach. “You come with us peacefully, and he goes free.”
“Come with you?” She frowned, not understanding, studying his face for a clue. “Why?” And then realisation came, bringing sickness to the pit of her stomach. The Drowned Ones no longer wanted her dead. They wanted to own her, like the Pact, like Yanlin, like everyone. They wanted her magic for themselves.