“Relax,” she muttered to herself, sheathing her blades.
She heard the humming again, faint but unmistakable. She rounded the shrub and peered inside.
A pair of eyes blinked at her less than a foot away. The boy looked so small, sitting on his knees. He had his hands pressed over his ears, and he hummed a melody, lost in his own world. She noticed he had his grandmother’s round cheeks and honey-colored eyes. She looked over her shoulder. From where she knelt, Aria could see the trail back to the compound, no more than twenty paces off. He wasn’t lost—he was terrified.
“Hi, River,” she said, smiling. “I’m Aria. I bet you’re an Aud, like me. Singing helps keep out the sound of the Aether, doesn’t it?”
He stared right at her and kept humming.
“That’s a good song. It’s the Hunter’s Song, right?” she asked, though she’d recognized it immediately as Perry’s favorite. He’d sung it to her once in the fall, after much convincing, his face red with embarrassment.
River went silent. His lower lip wobbled like he was about to cry.
“My ears hurt too when it’s this loud.” Aria remembered her Aud cap and reached into her satchel. “Do you want to wear this?”
River’s hands curled into pudgy fists. He slowly drew them away from his ears and nodded. She pulled the cap over his head and tugged the earflaps down, tying them under his chin. It was far too big for him, but it would buffer the noise of the storm.
“We need to get inside, all right? I’m going to get you home safe.”
She held out her hand to help him out. He took it, and then sprang into her arms, wrapping around her ribs as snug as a vest. Holding his shaking little body close, Aria hurried, looking for Molly and the others along the trail. They came on her in a mob—soaked and enraged.
“Don’t touch him!” hissed Brooke, tearing River away. Cold rushed over Aria’s chest, and her balance faltered at the sudden absence of his weight. Brooke snatched the cap off his head and tossed it in the mud.
“Stay away from him!” she yelled. “Don’t ever touch him again.”
“I was bringing him back!” Aria shouted, but Brooke was already dashing for the compound with River, who’d begun to wail. The others filed after Brooke, some casting accusing looks at Aria, like it was her fault River had gotten lost.
“How did you find him, Dweller?” asked a stocky man who’d stayed behind. Suspicion lurked in his eyes. Two boys Aria guessed to be his sons stood nearby, shoulders hunched and teeth chattering.
“She’s an Aud, Gray,” Molly said, appearing at her side. “Now, go on. Get your boys inside.”
With a final look at Aria, the man left, hurrying for shelter with his sons.
Aria picked up her Aud cap and brushed off the mud. “Brooke’s not related to you, is she?”
Molly shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “No. She’s not.”
Aria shoved her cap back into her satchel. “Good.”
As they hurried back to the compound together, she noticed that Molly was hobbling.
“It’s my joints,” Molly explained, raising her voice to be heard. The shrill sounds of the Aether funnels were growing louder. “They hurt worse when it’s cold and rainy.”
“Here, take my arm,” Aria said. She supported the older woman’s weight. Together, they moved more quickly toward the compound.
Minutes passed before Molly spoke again. “Thank you. For finding River.”
“You’re welcome.” Even with her body numb to the bone and her ears ringing, Aria felt oddly content to walk alongside a friend. Her first among the Tides, after Flea.
7
PEREGRINE
Perry left Roar and took the trail to the harbor faster than he had in his life, sprinting until he reached the dock. There, Wylan and Gren called to each other as they tied off a fishing skiff, their clothes flapping in the wind. The vessel struck the dock in the choppy water, shaking the planks beneath Perry’s feet. His heart seized when he saw only two skiffs. Most of his fishermen were still at sea.
“How close are the others?” Perry yelled.
Wylan shot him a dark look. “You’re the Seer, aren’t you?”
Perry ran along the shore to the rock jetty that reached out like a great arm, protecting the harbor. He leaped onto the tumbled granite, then lunged from one huge boulder to the next. Geysers of seawater shot up through the gaps, soaking his legs. At the top of the jetty, he stopped and scanned the open ocean. Huge waves rolled and pitched, capped with white spray. A terrifying sight, but he also saw what he’d hoped to. Five skiffs approached the harbor, bobbing like corks in the brutal waters.
“Perry, stop!” Reef worked his way over the boulders. Gren and Wylan followed, both with lengths of rope across their shoulders.
“They’re coming in!” Perry shouted. Who was left out there? The spray blurred everything. Even with his vision, he couldn’t see the fishermen until the first boat drew close, moving past the jetty. Perry glimpsed the terrified looks on the men whose lives he’d sworn to protect. They weren’t safe yet, but the seas weren’t as rough inside the harbor as out in the open water. When the second and third boats reached the harbor, he came closer to breathing again. Closer to knowing he hadn’t lost anyone.
And then the fourth skiff came in, leaving only one more at sea. Perry waited, cursing when he saw it clearly. Willow and her grandfather sat, white-faced, gripping the mast. Between them, ears pinned back, crouched Flea.
Perry leaped down the ocean side of the jetty, drawing closer to the breaking waves just as flashes burst across the horizon, freezing the moment in glaring light. The storm had broken. Funnels dropped at sea, scoring brilliant blue lines down the cloud-darkened sky. They were miles away, but he tensed on instinct and slipped, grazing his shin.
“Perry, get back here!” Reef yelled. Waves pummeled the rocks around them, a violent assault that came from every direction.
“Not yet!” Perry barely heard himself over the thundering surf.
Willow’s skiff had broken off its course. It streamed right toward the jetty. She yelled something, cupping her hands around her mouth.
Gren appeared, balancing beside Perry. “They’ve lost the rudder. They can’t steer.”
Perry knew exactly what was going to happen, and the others did too.
“Abandon ship!” Wylan yelled nearby. “Get out!”
Old Will had already pulled Willow to her feet. He took her face in his hands, issuing a frantic message Perry couldn’t hear. Then he embraced her hastily and helped her jump off the bow into the waves. Flea leaped in right after her, and then Old Will jumped last, his expression surprisingly calm.
Seconds passed in an instant. The swell caught the skiff, pushing it into a current. The boat came fishtailing, turning backward at the last moment, so the stern smashed against the rocks just ten paces away from Perry. It folded, splintering, sending pieces flying. His arms came up, shielding himself, debris and ocean spray pelting his forearms.
He blinked hard, clearing his eyes, and spotted Willow moving right toward the mix of broken wood and white water.
“Get a line out now!” Reef shouted.
Close by, Wylan threw a rope in the perfect cast of a born fisherman. Without the rope, Willow would smash against the rocks over and again, churning in the froth. With it, they had a chance of pulling her in safely.
“Willow, grab the line!” Perry yelled.
He watched her search for her grandfather, her movements jerky and frantic, and then saw her terror as she spotted Old Will farther out. A wave washed over her, and Perry’s heart stopped. Willow surfaced, coughing up water and gasping for air. She swam frantically for the rope and finally grasped it.
Perry drew as low on the rocks as he dared, strength gathering in his legs as he prepared to grab her.
When the surf surged, Wylan and Gren pulled the rope. Willow came slicing toward Perry like an arrow. She knocked him back as he caught her, her forehead crackin
g against his chin. Pain burst across his ribs as he fell against the rocks. He held her for an instant before Reef swept her from his arms.
“Get out of there, Peregrine!” he yelled, carrying Willow higher on the jetty.
Perry didn’t answer this time. He couldn’t leave until they had Old Will.
Wylan threw another line. It dropped near Old Will, but the fisherman struggled, swimming in place with his head tipped up, barely above the water.
“Move, Will! Swim!” Perry yelled.
Funnels lashed down, closer now, and waves that had been five and six feet high minutes ago doubled into monstrous surges that spilled over the jetty.
“Grandpa!” Willow screamed suddenly, like she knew. Like she’d had some sense of what would come next.
Old Will disappeared beneath the water.
Perry covered the distance between him and Wylan in four leaps. He grabbed hold of the rope. Behind him, Gren’s and Reef’s voices boomed, “No!” just as he pushed off the rocks and dove.
The quiet beneath the water shocked him. Perry took up slack on the rope, firming his grip, and kicked away from the jetty. His foot struck something hard—a board? A rock?—as he came up. Waves rose in huge, rolling walls around him. He could only see water until a swell lifted him out of the trough. His stomach lurched as he rose up, and then he was at the crest, able to see the rocks where he’d just stood. Only seconds, and he was nowhere near where he thought he’d be.
Perry swam toward where he’d last seen Old Will. The current was brutally strong, pulling him back toward the jetty. He spotted movement in the water. Flea paddled twenty yards off. Nearby, Old Will thrashed in place, his silvery hair blending with the whipped sea foam.
The fisherman’s skin was ghastly white when Perry reached him. “Hang on, Will!” Perry tied the rope around him. “Go!” he yelled toward shore, waving his arms.
Seconds passed before the fibers of the rope stretched taut beneath his hands. He was pulled forward, but barely. Another tug and he couldn’t deny that together they were too heavy for Wylan. He caught another glimpse of the jetty, seeing the dark granite boulders flash white for an instant. The Aether storm was closing on them.
Perry let go of the rope, and Old Will surged away from him. He swam after, demanding more from his tired muscles. Every stroke felt like he was lifting his own weight. He could hear Reef’s and Gren’s shouts as he neared the jetty. He pushed himself. Peered up through whipping spray. A few more yards.
A sudden current gripped him like a hook, pulling him away, back toward the open water. Just as suddenly, the tide shifted, and he saw the jetty closing fast. He covered his head and pulled his legs up. His feet struck hard; then he whipped sideways and crashed into the rocks.
Pain speared through him. Spine cracking. Everywhere. The ache solidified in his right shoulder. He reached up, not recognizing his own shape. His shoulder jutted the wrong way, dislodged from the socket.
This couldn’t be happening. He swam with his good arm and begged more from his legs, but every movement sent stabbing pain across his shoulder. Through the crashing surf, he caught another glimpse of the jetty. Bear and Wylan pulled the rope hand over hand, bringing in Old Will. Willow and Flea stood nearby, shaking and soaked. Reef and Gren perched on the rocks, yelling for him, ready to hoist him out of the water. Perry kicked harder, but his legs wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t move the way he wanted them to. He was coughing up seawater and couldn’t catch his breath.
There was only one way out of this. He stopped swimming and plunged underwater. He grabbed his wrist and took an instant to shore up his resolve. Then he pulled it across his body. Spots of red burst before his eyes. It felt like he was ripping his own muscles, the pain an explosion inside his shoulder, but the joint wouldn’t spring back into place. He let go of his arm. Couldn’t try again. Was sure he’d pass out if he did.
He pushed up, cutting through the churning water, his breath running out. He kicked harder, searching for the surface. Searching.
Searching.
Suddenly he couldn’t tell which way was up. Fear threatened to overtake him, but he forced himself to swim with calm strokes. Panic would mean the end. Long seconds later, his lungs screaming for oxygen, panic came anyway, and he felt himself thrashing wildly in the water, his body moving beyond his control.
He knew he couldn’t breathe. That he wouldn’t draw in air. No matter how he fought against it, he couldn’t stop himself. The ache in his lungs and his head was bigger than the pain in his shoulder. Bigger than anything.
He opened his mouth and inhaled. An explosion of cold shot down his throat. In the next instant, he pushed it back out. The bright red bursts came back, and his chest convulsed, pulling, pushing. Needing, rejecting.
He slipped down into colder water, where it grew darker and quieter and darker still. He felt his limbs relax, then an aching sorrow spread through him, replacing the pain.
Aria. He’d just gotten her back. Didn’t want to leave. Didn’t want to hurt her. Didn’t want—
Something slammed into his throat. The Blood Lord chain … strangling him. He grasped for it, and then he realized someone was above, tugging him upward. The chain loosened, but now he felt an arm around his chest, and he was moving, being towed.
He broke the surface and retched seawater, convulsing with his entire being. He felt a rope being tied around his ribs, and then Gren and Wylan were hauling him up to the rocks while someone pushed him from behind. It could only be Reef.
Bear grabbed for his arm, cursing as he almost slid into the water.
“Shoulder!” Perry gritted through his teeth.
Bear understood, wrapping his arm around Perry’s waist and carrying him beyond the reach of the crashing waves. Perry kept going after he was set down. He clambered across the jetty, desperate, until he reached sand. Then he sank and folded around the pain in his gut—in his shoulder—in his throat. His lungs felt like they’d been beaten blue.
A circle formed around him, but he kept coughing, struggling to find his breath. Finally he swiped the saltwater from his eyes.
Shame hit him hard. He was on his back, broken in front of his people.
Gren shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened. Old Will stood with Willow tucked into his side. Reef’s chest heaved, the scar across his cheek bright red. Above, the Aether turned in massive, vengeful wheels.
“His arm’s out of its socket,” Bear said.
“Pull it up and then across,” Reef said. “Slow and firm, and don’t stop, no matter what. And be quick about it. We need to get inside.”
Perry shut his eyes. Huge hands closed over his wrist; then he heard Bear’s deep voice above him. “You won’t like this, Perry.”
He didn’t.
Body shaking with nerves and cold, Perry climbed up to his loft, clutching his arm to his side. Awkwardly, hissing at the ache in his shoulder, he pulled his sopping shirt over his head and flung it across the room below. It landed with a splat on the fireplace mantel, hanging there. He lay back and drew breath after breath into his battered lungs as he watched the Aether through the open sliver in the roof. Rain dripped through it, tapping on his chest. Rolling to the mattress beneath him.
Just a few minutes. He needed some time alone before he had to face the tribe.
He closed his eyes. All he could see was Vale, making speeches. Vale, sitting at the head table of the cookhouse, calmly overseeing everything. His brother had never so much as tripped in front of the Tides. And what had Perry just done?
It was the right thing, going after Old Will. So why couldn’t he slow down his breathing? Why did he feel like punching something?
The door swung open, banging against the stone wall with a crack and letting in a cold gust.
“Perry?” someone said from below.
Perry winced in disappointment. It wasn’t the voice he wanted to hear. The only one he’d listen to right now. Had Roar found her?
“Not
now, Cinder.” Perry listened for the sound of the door closing. Seconds passed with nothing. He tried again more forcefully. “Cinder, go.”
“I wanted to explain about what happened.”
Perry sat up. Cinder stood below, soaking wet. He was holding his black cap in his hands. He looked determined and calm.
“You want to talk now?” Perry heard his father’s angry tone in his own voice. He knew he should stop himself, but he couldn’t. “You show up when you want to, and run when you don’t? Which is it going to be? If you’re staying, I’d appreciate you not burning our food.”
“I was trying to help—”
“You want to help?” Perry jumped down from the loft, muffling a curse as pain lanced through his arm. He strode up to Cinder, who stared up at him with wide, piercing eyes. He waved toward the open door. “Then why don’t you do something about that?”
Cinder glanced outside, then back at him. “That’s why you want me here? You think I can stop the Aether?”
Perry caught himself suddenly. He wasn’t thinking straight. Didn’t know what he was saying. He shook his head. “No. That’s not why.”
“Forget it!” Cinder backed away, moving toward the door. The veins at his neck had begun to glow blue, like the Aether. It seeped like branches beneath his skin, spreading up over his jaw, across his cheeks and his forehead.
Perry had seen him this way twice—on the day Cinder had burned his hand, and when he’d laid waste to a tribe of Croven—but it stunned him again.
“I never should have trusted you!” Cinder yelled.
“Wait,” Perry said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
It was too late. Cinder spun, and shot outside.
8
ARIA
Roar ran up a short while later, as Aria approached the compound with Molly. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said, wrapping Aria in a quick hug. “You made me worry.”
Under the Never Sky: The Complete Series Collection Page 38