Orphans of the Tide

by Struan Murray

  ‘ELLIE!’ Castion roared again, landing on the roof, flanked either side by two Inquisitors. Ellie turned to Seth and smiled.

  Then she jumped into the sea.

  The water embraced her, strangely warm, as if her body was even colder than it felt. She swam towards the door, clinging to its splintery frame. She looked back to see Castion and the Inquisitors stepping to the edge of the rooftop. Seth had ducked behind one of the intact gargoyles, keeping out of sight.

  ‘Hargrath,’ Castion snapped. ‘Your dart-gun, hand it to me.’

  Hargrath fumbled in his pocket, then gave a tiny moan. ‘I . . . I don’t have it.’

  Castion cursed and went to grab the rope, to pull Ellie back in. The sea rumbled with a sound like splitting rock and a wave crashed angrily against the rooftop. Castion leapt backwards.

  ‘Don’t come near me!’ Ellie roared, so hard her throat hurt, raising her hand so it looked like she was controlling the sea. Seth was still hiding behind a gargoyle, faint blue swirls on his neck. Ellie untied the rope from the door handle and lashed it round her waist.

  The slightest shred of sunlight had appeared on the horizon. More and more people were streaming down from the upper City, crowding along the sea wall. They watched Ellie and Castion, their faces pale and frightened.

  Then, the waterfront was silent, save for the quiet lapping of the waves.

  ‘If you want to end it this way, fine,’ said Castion. ‘But please, do it now, before the Enemy comes. Before anyone gets hurt.’

  Ellie looked down at the water. She took a deep breath, then gripped the rope tightly.

  Something heaved against her chest from the inside, making her cry out. She fell forward, hands clawing the edges of the door. Finn’s voice spoke inside her head, his every word like a nail driven into her skull.

  I will not let you fake your death, Nellie, he said. You are going to die here, now.

  There was a searing pain in her fingers. Something wriggled beneath her skin, pushing against it.

  There was another hand moving inside her hand.

  Ellie screamed, sobbing in pain and fury, clenching her hands to fists and beating them against the door.

  ‘Bring her in, Castion!’ someone shrieked from the crowd. ‘KILL HER!’

  But Castion could only watch in horror.

  You can’t fight me, Nellie, said Finn, as Ellie’s body heaved against her will. You’ve no right. You left me. You deserve this.

  Ellie closed her eyes, trying to think of her brother, to picture his face. She remembered his blue eyes and his golden locks and –

  ‘No, no that’s not him,’ she moaned.

  Don’t struggle, Nellie, said Finn’s voice, like an avalanche in her mind. Now is your end.

  She tried to picture him in their bedroom, scribbling away with his coloured pencils. But instead she heard only a boy’s cries of pain and felt a twisting, itching shame. Something writhed in her chest. Ellie placed a hand there, and could feel a new second heartbeat pounding against her palm. Her own heart was growing weaker and weaker.

  ‘NO!’ she screamed, as a fresh spasm of pain coursed through her. She took a cold, shuddering breath and knew somehow that the next new agony would take her away forever. She raised her head from the wood, her gaze drifting from Castion to Seth.

  Then she heard a voice crying out her name. Through blurry, tear-filled eyes she glimpsed a blue jumper and a haze of ginger hair. Anna dropped down from the sea wall.

  ‘ELLIE!’ she cried, rushing to the edge of the roof. She pulled something metal from her pocket, and Ellie saw that it was Hargrath’s dart-gun. She aimed, fired, and a glint of metal spiralled through the air towards Ellie, embedding itself in the wooden door with a heavy thunk.

  Attached to the dart was a piece of paper.

  Ellie reached out, her every muscle fighting against her as she pulled the paper from the dart. She unfolded it with trembling fingers.

  It was a drawing of a boat at sea, done quickly but very well with coloured pencils. In the boat were three people – a girl with ginger hair, a girl with blonde hair, and a boy with green eyes.

  Green eyes.

  The figures were so vividly and lovingly sketched that they seemed a moment away from drawing breath. The blonde-haired girl and the boy could not have looked more alike. Their faces were freckled, their hair a shock of messy curls. Both had small noses that curved slightly to one side. They sat very close to each other, looking down and smiling, like they could see something secret. The girl had her arm round the boy’s shoulders.

  Ellie stared at the picture, and at the boy’s face. She heard a voice in her mind, but it wasn’t the Enemy. It was Anna.

  So even though I was alone in there . . . I didn’t feel alone.

  Ellie’s lips trembled, trying to form a single word.

  ‘Finn,’ she said.

  The Boy in the Rowing Boat

  Ellie’s head tingled, and she was overcome by a strange brightness all around her. It was a moment before she realized that the door she was lying on was no longer a door.

  She pulled herself up. It was daytime, and she was sitting in a small wooden rowing boat, bobbing gently on the waves. She looked for Seth and Anna, for Castion and Hargrath. But they were gone. Even the City – a towering, jagged beast above – appeared to be made of fog.

  Ellie’s bare arms were unbruised, her hair cut much shorter than usual. She was wearing shorts and a green cardigan with the sleeves rolled up. The cold inside her felt distant now, like a memory. Sunlight warmed her skin, and dragonflies darted above the water, halting on the lookout for mosquitoes. Ellie touched a hand to her cheeks, finding them slightly sunburnt. She looked up, and studied the other person in the boat with her.

  He had his back turned, leaning over the side, dipping a fishing net into the sea. He wore dusty black trousers and a grey jumper. He was singing quietly to himself.

  ‘Finn?’ Ellie said nervously.

  He turned his head.

  The boy in the boat had a pale, freckled face, green eyes, and a small nose that turned slightly to one side. His hair was a dirty, sandy blond, and he was wiry and scruffy. He looked an awful lot like she did.

  ‘I think I just saw a blue shark,’ he said.

  Ellie opened her mouth to speak. Somehow, she felt like the words were already there for her, on the tip of the tongue.

  ‘You did not.’

  His eyes narrowed at the challenge. He turned back to his net. ‘It wasn’t very big.’

  ‘Blue sharks aren’t very big,’ she said. The more she spoke, the more comfortable she felt, like she had nowhere else to be but in that boat.

  ‘Mum says she saw one that was nine feet long,’ Finn said.

  ‘How big was that one?’

  He shrugged. ‘About the same size as me.’

  ‘Sharks don’t come near the City,’ said Ellie authoritatively. She liked to show off how clever she was to her brother. She knew how much it annoyed him. ‘The water’s too murky for them.’

  ‘You heard Mum say that.’

  ‘I didn’t! It’s my own idea.’

  ‘And you’re putting on that voice you do when you’re trying to prove you’re clever.’

  ‘I am not!’ She hit him on the arm.

  He laughed. ‘You’re just jealous because I saw a blue shark.’

  ‘It wasn’t a blue shark!’

  ‘I think I know a little bit more about sharks than you do,’ said Finn, staring searchingly into the water. ‘You scared it off with all your yelling.’

  He sighed, and picked something up from the bottom of the boat. It was a large, black tube with a whale engraved on its side.

  ‘You’re still trying to get that to work?’ Ellie said.

  ‘It does work.’

  Finn wet his lips, then put the tube to his mouth, concentrating hard. At first, a gurgling, rasping sound came out, which made Ellie laugh and caused Finn to frown. He tried again.

  This time,
a deep and unearthly sound emerged that made Ellie feel like her very bones were trembling. It seemed to come from some far-off place, rising and falling like music.

  It sounded just like whale song.

  Finn put the tube back down, watching the sea expectantly, fiddling with the collection of keys and seashells and other trinkets that hung from the chain around his neck. Ellie couldn’t help but watch the sea too, hoping for some response.

  ‘It didn’t work,’ she said eventually.

  Finn stared down the tube like a telescope. ‘I don’t think you made it right.’

  ‘Don’t blame me!’

  ‘I’m telling you,’ Finn said confidently, ‘one of these days the whales are going to sing back. Look – the shark!’ he cried, leaning over the edge.

  ‘Careful you don’t fall in,’ Ellie warned.

  ‘I’m not going to –’

  From the other side of the boat there was a tremendous splash, spraying them with salt water. Ellie caught the shape of a dark, glossy tail turning in the water. Finn yelled out and fell backwards into the sea.

  ‘Finn!’

  Ellie stood, and felt a stab of panic. Where he’d fallen in there was now just a white ring of foam. Without thinking, she jumped in after him.

  Water rushed up her nose. The sun above was bright enough that she could see the shapes of buildings below her through the gloom. She cried out Finn’s name, only bubbles issued from her mouth instead.

  She felt a touch on her shoulder, then her arm, and was hauled upward. Finn dragged her back into the boat. He was laughing for some reason.

  ‘I saw it,’ he said breathlessly. ‘It was . . . It was . . .’

  He collapsed, his cheeks red. Ellie kicked him in the shin.

  ‘Stop laughing,’ she said. She glanced at his neck. ‘Oh, Finn, you’ve lost your chain in the water! That had your keys to the orphanage on it!’

  But Finn was still laughing and didn’t seem to care.

  ‘This isn’t funny, Finn. I was worried!’

  He looked at her. ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because you’re not a good swimmer!’

  ‘Yes, I am!’

  ‘You used to struggle.’

  ‘When I was four, maybe! I’ve been practising.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘You’re not with me all the time!’ Finn snapped. ‘And in case you didn’t notice – I just pulled you from the sea.’

  The outburst stunned Ellie to silence and she sat down, hair dripping wet. Finn turned from her, frowning and crossing his arms.

  ‘You worry about me far too much,’ he huffed.

  ‘I’m your big sister – it’s my job.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ said Finn. ‘We’d have much more fun if you weren’t fretting all the time.’

  ‘I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.’

  ‘Well, that’s silly. What’s the point in letting something like that worry you? Besides, I can look after myself.’

  ‘You just fell into the water with a shark!’

  The corners of Finn’s lips twitched.

  ‘What?’ said Ellie. ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘It wasn’t a shark,’ he said.

  ‘What was it?’

  He averted his eyes.

  ‘Finn?’

  ‘It was a tuna,’ he said sheepishly.

  Ellie laughed. ‘I told you,’ she said.

  ‘It was a big tuna!’

  Ellie hopped to her feet, bearing down on him and pinching him playfully.

  ‘Hey, stop that!’ he cried.

  He squirmed and pushed her off and they wrestled until they collapsed on their backs at either end of the boat. Ellie stared up at the sky, taking a moment to catch her breath. The fluffy white clouds were turning grey and the sky was growing dark, even though it had been morning just moments ago. She could feel a strange cold creeping into her chest. She gasped, looking down at her hands. Something was pushing against her skin.

  ‘Finn,’ she asked. ‘Is this a dream, or a memory?’

  The sky was filling up with more and more swirling black clouds. Ellie’s limbs were turning to ice. Something did not like her being there, wherever she was. Something was trying to drag her back.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t take me away.’

  ‘Ellie?’

  A fog was creeping in at the corners of her eyes. Ellie looked at her brother, who was watching her with a look of caring concern.

  ‘I’m sorry, Finn,’ she said.

  ‘For what?’ he said. Somehow, the sun still shone on his face, even though the clouds had blotted it out.

  ‘I wish I could always be there to look after you,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry if I ever leave you alone when you need me.’

  She rubbed tears from her cheeks.

  ‘I’m never alone,’ said Finn. ‘You’re always with me, Ellie. Even when you’re not.’

  The sky cracked above. Ellie was shivering so terribly that she felt like icy water was being poured down her throat.

  ‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘I don’t want to go. I’m not ready. I just want to stay here with you.’

  Finn smiled, his cheeks flushed and his hair soaking wet. He reached out and held her hand in both of his. His grip was so warm. Ellie could feel the heat return to her fingers.

  ‘You have to go,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be right here when you need me.’

  And above the sky was dark again.

  Her body was cold, weak. Her hair was long and thinning. She could feel splinters of wood in her hands and legs.

  Somehow, her fingers were still warm.

  Ellie placed her brother’s drawing down with great care. She pushed herself up on to her elbows, but all her joints seemed to have rusted, and the effort to hold herself up was almost too much. But she had to. For just a little while longer.

  She lifted her head. Castion was still at the edge of the roof, staring at her. It seemed like only seconds had passed.

  She hobbled to her feet, the door swaying beneath her, and checked the loop of rope around her waist. She drew a long, deep breath, feeling the wind on her face. She looked at Seth, who watched her anxiously. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, concentrating hard on the water.

  Ellie gave the rope three sharp tugs. There was a slow, inevitable crunch of stone as the whale-gargoyle toppled towards the sea.

  ‘No!’ Anna cried. ‘ELLIE, NO!’

  Ellie stepped off the door, and the sea swallowed her up. She drifted a moment, treading water, then a powerful force yanked at her waist, as the gargoyle plunged below the surface, dragging her with it.

  Water rushed upward all around, thundering like a storm in her ears. She opened her eyes, and saw Finn there before her, his fingers round her neck. Trying to choke her.

  Except this wasn’t Finn. This boy had blue eyes, the colour of the sky. But her brother’s eyes had been green, like hers. This boy’s cheeks were too round, and his nose didn’t turn to one side, but was perfectly straight. His hair was too golden, even underwater, and he was not nearly so freckled as the real Finn had been. He seemed to be drowning, as the gargoyle dragged them down, further and further into the depths. He looked afraid.

  Ellie pulled her penknife from her trouser pocket and sliced at the rope. Her hand moved slowly underwater, but finally the rope came apart. She felt an immediate relief around her waist as the gargoyle fell away.

  Ellie looked at the Enemy. It stared back at her with such pure hatred, a look so unfamiliar on her brother’s face. She closed her eyes.

  And in her mind, she saw the little bedroom she and her brother shared in the orphanage. The walls were covered with his drawings. Some were of sharks and ships and sailors, others of mythical birds with majestic pink and blue wings. But mostly the drawings were of a girl, and a boy, and the adventures they shared.

  Her brother lay in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets. His skin was pale, and he was shivering.

  Ellie stepped inside th
e bedroom. And though she was not really there, she sat down upon the bed and rested a hand on his head, stroking his straw-coloured curls. She lay on her side and hugged him close, as tightly as she could. And though he still shivered, and though he was still cold, he smiled.

  Ellie smiled too, even as she began to struggle for air. Even as her fingers went numb and her vision began to fade. At last, she opened her eyes.

  The creature before her did not look anything like her brother – or any human. Its skin was turning grey, its eyes a fathomless black. Its lips were gone, and it had only a small mouth filled with tiny, pointed teeth. Its skull was too big for its pallid, infantile body, and at the back grew to a point from which seaweed-like tendrils sprouted. It tried to scratch at her with brittle fingers and claws. Bits of it were flaking away.

  Its mouth opened to scream at her, but the sound was weak and unfamiliar. Ellie put her hand to its head, and pushed. The Enemy fell away, sinking down towards the rooftops of the City beneath the sea.

  Great beams of sunlight broke through the water around her as the sun rose, throwing the City below into relief: a hundred thousand buildings huddled in the deep. Ellie felt the pain in her chest lessen, her head going light. She found she could only smile. How strange it was to be herself again. She thought of her mum, and of her brother. She thought of Seth and Anna.

  Then, drifting to her through the morning light, from some far-off place, she heard the sound of whales.

  It almost seemed as if they were singing.

  Orphans of the Tide

  Seth raced through the sewers, squeezing through tight tunnels with Ellie’s coat clutched under one arm. At last, he came to the little rusted door to Ellie’s second workshop. He slammed it open, and was greeted by a familiar mess of tools and broken instruments. Light stippled the ceiling, reflected from the water beneath.

  ‘Ellie!’ he shouted, hoping she’d pop up from behind one of the workbenches. He held her coat close. It was extremely heavy, its pockets so full that the stitching was bursting in a dozen places.