Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  When I could make sense of my surroundings, the storm had dulled to a drizzle as suddenly as it had come. The clouds were thinning, letting the midsummer moon light up the street. Blood and rain pooled but the tidespeople were gone. A few scattered bodies left behind.

  The surviving men climbed to their feet, exchanging words, demanding questions of each other that nobody had answers to. But Tobin wasn’t among them.

  He wasn’t among the dead, nor the living.

  She had gone, leaving us afraid and broken in her wake, and he had gone with her.

  The dawn was too pale. I had watched countless sunrises over our village, and each one had been vibrant: rich oranges and pinks and blues streaking across the sky to chase away the night. Hopeful.

  This morning there was no richness to it, as if the sky was grieving. The sun crept slowly, tiredly, into view. The clouds crawled out of sight but left behind no summer blue sky, only a shade that reflected the numbness in every inch of my body.

  I couldn’t move. Every muscle felt too heavy. I sat on the step in front of the Catessars’ bakery. I didn’t care that the mud at the edges of the street seeped through my dress. I didn’t care that the breeze, as calm as it was now, bit into my skin. I didn’t care that I was shaking head to toe.

  The dead had been taken away, the injured tended to. Edrick had steered one of the doctors to my shoulder and had refused to let me be until she’d popped it into place, leaving it tender but usable. Then she’d moved on; there were people worse off. I didn’t know how many had been killed. I heard whispers of counts in the dozens. Buildings had been ripped apart by the storm, others turned over by the tidespeople, who’d taken jewels and coin and anything else they wanted. The village was littered with shattered wood and glass, ripped fabric, the trampled and ruined remains of the festival’s feast and decorations. I could smell the ash of the bonfire in the air around the clean, salty scent of the water.

  Nobody spoke to me. Nobody looked at me. It was as if I was invisible. I was alright with that. I couldn’t start on my way home, not yet, but I couldn’t help with the cleanup, either. I was too tired. Too broken.

  “Where is he?” Papa demanded from somewhere among the milling crowd passing in and out of view. “What happened?”

  Tears pricked at my eyes yet again, and I blinked them away. I hadn’t cried yet. I didn’t want to. Crying made it real. But I looked in the direction of his voice, searching for his familiar face. It took a moment for our gazes to meet, his eyes soft with concern. “Hania?”

  “Papa.” My voice came out a hoarse croak, strangled by unshed tears. He crouched before me, eyes sweeping over me in search of injuries.

  “Your arm.” He lifted my injured arm and I winced, but the pain was dull compared to what was ripping through my chest.

  “I’m alright. But Tobin, he—he—” My voice left, and I ground the heels of my hands into my eyes, begging the tears to stay put. They didn’t. Behind my closed lids was the woman, the terrible woman who was like a storm herself, the triumphant gleam in her eyes as she stepped up to Tobin. The wicked curve of her smile.

  “I’m sorry,” somebody else said to us. I didn’t bother to look up to see who. “He’s gone.” The two words pulled a sob from me.

  Papa’s voice was strained. “Where’s his body been taken?”

  There was a moment of silence. I searched for a way to correct him, but I had none. I didn’t understand it myself. The other man replied, “There… is no body. He isn’t…He wasn’t killed here.” The rest of the sentence was unspoken but hung in the air: he’d no doubt been killed somewhere else.

  “I don’t understand,” Papa said.

  I raised my head, wiping my tears away. “They took him, Papa. They…they left and they took him. He isn’t here.”

  “They took him?”

  “There was a woman with them. She called him Lenairen. And then…and then they were gone, and so was Tobin, and we searched but…” I couldn’t get the rest out.

  The other man finished, casting me a brief, sympathetic look. “We checked every body, we searched the village…he isn’t here.”

  Papa leapt to his feet, turning on him. “Where have they taken him?”

  “We can’t say. Nobody can. We can search the woods but—”

  “Search them. Now. Find my son.”

  “Papa.” He stopped at my soft protest, looking at me. “I want to go home.” Tobin wasn’t in those woods. I knew that. They had nothing to gain from tossing him there. “Please.”

  His gaze softened again, and he took my good arm to help me up. My legs trembled; I gripped his hand until they could hold me. “Of course, Hania.” The exhaustion in his face cut through me like a blade. He looked years older than he did the night before, as if fear and stress had aged him in a matter of hours. I didn’t know how to help. He said with a heavy sigh to the loose group of men watching us, “If you want to help gather any man willing to search the woods. I’ll join you when she’s safe at home.”

  There were nods and murmurs of acceptance and the men dispersed. Papa and I didn’t speak as we made our way home. Debris littered the path—broken branches, the remnants of roofs and windows, destroyed belongings—and every several houses we came across someone gathering their things, determining what could be repaired and what would have to be dried out for firewood. They kept their gazes down, mouths set in grim, stony lines. In one doorway, a woman wept, shoulders shaking but sobs silent. I watched her as we turned the corner, wishing I knew who she lost last night.

  Every animal had fled the storm. The path to our farm was dead silent; no birds sang, no bugs drifted through the air. The fields were empty, the horses having taken shelter in the barn and too spooked to come out. I couldn’t look at our crops in the distance; even from here I could see where they’d been ripped out of the ground. I swallowed a lump in my throat.

  The house was still standing, if looking a little wobbly. The roof and windows had held, and when I stepped inside it was cold and dim but dry. I hovered in the center of the room, unable to do anything but look around me, and behind me Papa gathered things for the search. I didn’t try to talk him out of it, there would be no use. He needed to see for himself that Tobin wasn’t there. He hadn’t seen her, hadn’t felt the sting of ancient power in the air when she’d spoken. He couldn’t know, not really. So I would let him search, if it made him feel better.

  “Don’t leave the house,” he said, pausing by the door. I nodded. “I’ll return before dark.”

  I nodded, and he was gone.

  I watched through the window until he was out of sight, and then scanned the house again. Everything was where it had been, untouched since we’d left for the festival. Except for the crooked shutters there was no sign of the storm inside, and for that I was grateful.

  But I couldn’t stand here. My feet itched to move, to do something to occupy the time, so I did anything to keep them busy. I swept out the dirt that had been blown in beneath the door. I straightened the dishes. I hesitated at the back door, thinking on my father’s parting words, but stepped outside. Half of me expected thunder to strike, storm clouds to reappear, but none did. The sky remained dull blue-gray but clear.

  I searched through the grass for the fallen clothesline and restrung it, tying it tighter than it’d been before. Perhaps it would hold through the next storm. I admired my work, happy to have the house looking a bit more like its old self, but my gaze pulled itself to my garden, and my heart dropped.

  The plants had been destroyed. Some were pulled from the ground, others blown ragged. It looked like an animal had raced across one end of the small patch of earth in its hurry to get out of the storm; uneven, rushed pawprints cut through the dirt and a few plants were trampled. I stooped to pick up the broken and crushed leaves. I didn’t know how many of the little vegetables could be saved, but I was too tired to try to figure it out. I left them for later.

  I was a step away from the door when a crack behind me
made me jump, adrenaline shooting through my veins, and I whirled toward it. My mind was already conjuring up scales and fangs, but nothing was there but the empty fields. Heart in my throat, I stepped to the ground and paused, listening. There was a moment of silence, then it came again, a crack like a twig breaking followed by a thin skittering sound.

  One of the animals, hiding nearby? I whistled, watching for any movement, but there was none. “Hello?”

  Nothing.

  It had come from around the house, I was sure of it, so I crept to the front as quiet as possible, just in case. I doubted any tidespeople had stayed behind, but I didn’t want to take any chances. A shovel had been left behind from some work days before, toppled onto the ground, and I scooped it up and gripped it in both hands. My heart raced as I came to the porch and stopped, but saw nothing.

  I jumped when the sound came a third time, louder and closer and paired with an angry yowl. I knew that yowl. I dropped the shovel to the ground and crouched to look beneath the porch, knees weakening with relief. Kotar scrabbled in the dirt, clawing and biting at a knot of weeds wrapped around his tail and hind legs.

  “You scared me,” I said, forcing my breath to stay even. He didn’t notice me before I reached to him. He growled and rolled away, ragged fur ruffling along his spine. “Oh, it’s just me. Come here and let me help you.” He kept up his rough, unbroken growl but calmed, and when I scratched one ear, quieted and leaned toward me. I lowered my voice to keep from spooking him again. “It’s alright. Everything’s alright, Kotar. Good,” I breathed, reaching around to pull the weeds free. I tossed them aside and he shook out his fur and set to work grooming his tail, indignant. I sat and watched, unable to help myself. He’d always been my favorite barn cat.

  If it can catch mice it can eat them, but we don’t need another mouth to feed, Papa had said, tossing a strap across the horse’s neck and fastening it. Let it go, Hania.

  I’d clung to Kotar, bone-thin from hunger since he’d lost his strong youthful edge, in my arms and fought back tears, searching for a response and knowing Papa wouldn’t take any. I couldn’t bear to see one of our barn cats starve. But then Tobin had put down his tools, stepped up beside me, and interrupted our conversation without hesitation. Take scraps off my share if you have to. It’s better than letting him starve.

  The argument had gone on for days, but I had won, if only because Tobin had taken my side. And when I’d thanked him, he’d waved me off, saying, Everybody needs somebody to fight for them, even old barn cats.

  I blinked back the tears that were slipping free, ripping my gaze away from Kotar. He would be dead right now if not for Tobin, and I knew it was not because Tobin liked him. He’d never been fond of cats. But he’d known I loved Kotar and that had been enough. That was always enough for him.

  Everybody needs somebody to fight for them.

  If anyone ever deserved somebody to fight for them, it was my brother.

  And what was I doing for him? Sitting at home sniffling? Letting Papa and the others waste their time on a fruitless search?

  I jumped to my feet, the sudden movement startling Kotar beneath the porch again. I started from the house, forcing my feet to keep going, one after the other. Papa would be furious if he returned and I was gone, but I couldn’t stay here.

  I didn’t have a plan in mind. I only knew that I needed to try something to help Tobin. I didn’t let myself think of the woman who had taken him, how if she returned I would stand no chance. I didn’t let myself think that it was useless to try. I kept walking, veins burning in me.

  The shore was peaceful. But for a few scattered, broken branches across the beach there was no sign of the storm. The waves rolled serenely. The sun shone down and glittered on the surface. It shouldn’t be like this. I wanted it to be raging, lashing at the land. I wanted to see the waters dark and stormy, the sky shattered by rain and lightning. But it wasn’t.

  It was calm.

  Normal.

  I stomped across the sand, not daring to reach the edge of the water. “Why?” I demanded of the empty air. There was nothing but the soft rush of the tide. “Why him? Why not somebody else? Why would you take him?” It gave no answer. I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t, and yet I screamed my questions at the sea, desperate for any reply.

  “You didn’t have to take him! You could have left us alone! You don’t need him, give him back!”

  The ocean swept in and out, quiet as the air, as if mocking me. Tears burned in my eyes.

  “You already took my mother. Why do you need my brother, too? He’s good, he doesn’t deserve it. Do you hear me? He doesn’t deserve it! Take me with you instead, I don’t care, just come back with him! Give my brother back!” My voice scraped against my throat, raw with the sobs I was struggling to hold in. They slipped out, broken and echoing across the empty beach. There was no answer. No tidespeople came rushing from the sea to confront me. There was only horrible silence.

  I wiped at my eyes and scooped up a rock, hurling it as far across the water as I could. It landed with a dull splash that was far less satisfying than I’d wished. “Give him back!”

  The beach was blurred by my tears, my legs shaking, and I let myself drop to the ground. I couldn’t do it anymore. He was gone. They wouldn’t be coming back, and if they did it wouldn’t be to return Tobin. They didn’t care what a pitiful human thought. I dug my fingers into the sand and let the tears roll down my face and onto the ground. I was too tired to keep from crying anymore.

  I heard the soft footsteps behind me but didn’t look up. I watched the shadow of a figure sit beside me, and I knew it was Edrick before he spoke. Anybody else would leave me to cry in peace.

  “I hate to tell you, Hania, but I don’t think they can hear you,” he said.

  I took a deep breath to steady myself and stared at the ocean. “I know.”

  We sat in silence. Then, “I’m sorry about Tobin.” I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. So Edrick spoke for me, filling the space. “I didn’t think they would take anybody. In the stories they didn’t. I know them killing isn’t any better but…I don’t know, at least then we’d know what happened. I’m sorry you don’t know.”

  “Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?” I asked. “I said I wanted nothing to do with him. At the festival. He tried to talk to me and I didn’t want to hear it. I told him that and I left. And then he was gone.”

  Edrick was silent, and then, “He knew you didn’t mean it like that.”

  “He might die thinking I hate him, Edrick.” If he hadn’t already.

  “No, he won’t.”

  “I’ll have to live with that all my life. The last thing I told my brother was that I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t listen to him for two minutes and now he’s—” I broke off as my throat closed up, looking down at the sand. A few little weeds had sprouted, and I pulled at them. Anything to keep busy.

  But Edrick shook his head. “You won’t. I don’t believe that.”

  “There’s nothing else to it. He’s gone. It’s over.”

  “It’s not over until he’s back, one way or another.”

  I choked out a laugh and looked at him. “How am I supposed to get him back? They have their world, we have ours.”

  “It wasn’t always that way. They used to cross. Why do you think they can get here?”

  I watched him, trying to understand what he was saying. “I’d give anything to go after him. I’d kill every tidesperson between Tobin and I if I could. But I can’t. And they’re gone. I don’t have any clue where a human might pass into their world. Only they know that.” I was beaten. They’d won, and I had to live with it.

  “That doesn’t mean there isn’t a way. They got here somehow. They went home somehow. There’s a place somewhere nearby that enters into their world. There has to be.”

  I closed my eyes and let my forehead fall against my knees. Every inch of my body felt too heavy, like without Tobin I couldn’t
carry it. Like my heart had turned to lead in my chest. “I don’t know how to find it. I don’t know what to do if I can. My father needs me here. Other people need me here.”

  There was another beat of silence as he considered what to say. “Don’t worry about us,” he said, choosing his words with care. “Don’t worry about your father, or me, or the village. We’ll be alright. Worry about you and Tobin. If you need to go after him, go. I won’t pretend to know if it’s possible, but I know you won’t be you again until you try something.”

  “I can’t. I can’t win. Even if I found a way to get there, even if I found Tobin, I can’t beat them. I’m human. They’re not. You saw them—they’re…they’re terrifying. And I don’t think I can really save him.” The words pierced through me with the horrible awareness that they were true. I couldn’t stand against the tidespeople, and most certainly not that woman who had taken Tobin.

  “They are,” Edrick agreed. He met my eyes, a rich brown that always was so warm and steady and sure. “But I know you, Hania, and I know you can be so determined that nothing in the world can stop you. If anybody can go to their world and come home, it would be you.”

  I stared at him, letting those words sink in. Letting myself try to believe them. I managed to make my voice work in a whisper. “What if they get me, too?”

  “What if they don’t?”

  “You don’t mean that, Edrick,” I said, shaking my head and looking out to the sea.

  “Maybe not to anybody else. I would say it’s an insane thought. But I knew you’d be the one to think it. And I’m not sure Tobin can afford to wait.”

  I’d thought it, on some level. Not in so many words, but I knew I had to do something to help him. He wasn’t here; I felt that in the pit of my stomach, in the ache in my heart. If he was anywhere, he was with them. And even if it was insane, even if it was sure to get me killed, I would go to their world to save him if I could.