The Deepest Blue

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Roe began riffling through the seaweed and remnants of fruit. She raised up a clump of suka berries triumphantly. “How’s this?”

  “Perfect.” It would work nicely for drawing a map on one of the walls. Taking a berry, she drew the first mark, indicating their cave. Roe added to it, pausing to concentrate on the distant underground spirits.

  “Sorka was wrong,” Mayara said as they both drew, side by side in the faint light of the cave mouth. “We’re better together.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Aside from not dying, the trickiest part about hiding from the spirits was figuring out when and where to pee. None of the legends or songs mention this part, Mayara thought. Not a single verse hinted at a spirit sister, heir, Silent One, or queen ever having to worry about where to relieve herself while she fought for her life. No one ever warned about the tedium of constant terror or the amount of time you spent obsessing over simple bodily functions when life itself was no longer simple.

  Mayara squatted in the shallows of the sea whenever she needed to, and Roe, while her leg continued to heal, used a hollowed-out coconut that Mayara would dispose of during one of her foraging trips.

  It was a risk, of course, every time she left the cave. Everything they did was a risk, though. Staying in one place. Venturing out. Even thinking too much or too loudly, if they weren’t careful to keep their thoughts from projecting as loudly as a shout. But a few things were unavoidable. For example, they couldn’t let odors build up inside their cave or even near it—that would give them away. Better to let the waves wash away any trace of them.

  At least there was never a shortage of plants to forage when Mayara did risk a trip out. She even found firemoss growing between the rocks. Firemoss gave off a soft glow that made it perfect to use for exploring caves. It was a lucky find, but given what she’d seen so far on Akena Island, it didn’t surprise her. She suspected that if she were able to search for long enough, she’d find just about anything and everything growing there. Already on her short jaunts, she’d seen more kinds of flowers than she ever knew existed, as well as bananas, mangoes, oranges, and all varieties of nuts and berries, even those she knew had no business growing in Belene—some belonged in the cold reaches of Elhim or the mountain lands of Semo. But the spirits who’d grown them hadn’t cared—they were free to create unchecked here. Mayara wasn’t complaining—each trip, she came back with her sling overloaded.

  If it weren’t for the constant fear of death—and, she thought, the occasional need to pee into coconuts—it would have been a wonderful place to live.

  After five days of not dying, Mayara and Roe were ready to explore the caves beneath the island. Five days was enough time for Roe’s leg to heal, and five days was enough for them to map out at least a few of the myriad tunnels.

  It was also enough time to realize that if they didn’t start moving, they might go crazy.

  Now that there were only a few spirit sisters left—Mayara didn’t know exactly how many—the spirits were hunting in packs, combing the island in increasingly frenetic patterns, swarming with greater ferocity when they sensed any hint of their prey. She could feel them every time they neared her and Roe’s cave. It wore on both of them.

  We need a secondary cave, Mayara thought, for the inevitable day when we’re discovered. Assuming they survived that day.

  They wouldn’t be able to bring their map with them, of course—it was drawn on the cave wall with suka berry juice—and so they each spent a significant chunk of time memorizing it. It was a bit like memorizing the veins in a leaf. Every cave branched out into a half dozen more, and they would have to be careful not to become lost.

  “You know, we’re supposed to be learning how to use our power to control spirits so we can become useful heirs,” Roe said. “Not hiding out and crawling around in dark, dangerous, unknown cave systems. We should venture out instead of in.”

  They’d had this conversation before. Roe felt guilty for not being more heroic and practicing being an heir, like they were supposed to do. Mayara felt no such guilt. “You’ve sensed how many spirits are out there. Do you want to face them?”

  “Well, maybe not right this second, but soon. . . .”

  “We need an escape route, in case they find us before we’re ready to face them.” Mayara didn’t think she’d ever be ready to confront them, but she didn’t say that to Roe. She’d be fine with avoiding the spirits for the entire month. But there was no guarantee they’d be able to stay undiscovered for so long. “The spirits are still searching. At some point, they’ll search here.” She didn’t like the way their cave made her feel cornered. Every time a spirit flew by, she felt like a mouse pinned against a wall. Any second, the cat was going to see her. Run and hide—that was the plan, but right now, they didn’t have anywhere to go. “I don’t want to wait for our luck to run out.”

  “It just doesn’t feel right, all this hiding,” Roe complained.

  “Then think of it as exploring,” Mayara said. “You’ve been cooped up inside a fortress your entire life. But now you have a chance to see something no other humans have seen: the heart of the most feared island in all of Belene.”

  Roe perked up. “Okay, when you put it that way, it sounds a lot better.”

  Mayara grinned at her. “Then let’s do it.”

  Bringing the firemoss, as well as other essentials (glass shards and sharp rocks for weapons, a hollow coconut filled with freshwater, seaweed, and enough food for a day), they crawled into the darkness.

  The firemoss cast a weak glow a few feet ahead of them, enough that they’d see any bottomless pits or cliff drop-offs, but not enough to shed light on what lay ahead or to alert any spirits. Mayara crawled first and then stood as the tunnel widened. She held the firemoss in one hand and a knifelike rock in the other. Roe followed behind her. It was Mayara’s job to watch the terrain, and Roe’s job to “watch” for spirits.

  “Did you really never leave the fortress?” Mayara asked as they crept through the caves. She kept her voice to a whisper, even though there was no one to hear.

  “I’ve never even been to a market.”

  “How could your mother let them imprison you like that? She has the power of all the spirits!” Except that she didn’t, Mayara realized, because of the Deepest Blue. She opened her mouth to take back her words, but Roe was already talking again.

  “I used to blame her,” Roe said. “Even hate her. When she became queen, we lost her. My grandparents tried to explain it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t want to be queen, that she certainly didn’t want to lose us, and that I had to be a good little girl, and maybe someday, when the world wasn’t so dangerous, we’d be allowed to see her again. Until then, she needed us to stay safe.”

  “You never saw her? Not once?”

  “Once,” Roe said. “But only at a distance. And she never knew I was there. She visits each of the Family strongholds once a year. Usually Lord Maarte posts extra guards on us for her visits, but one year, it was a surprise visit. I was down in the kitchen, so the guards didn’t get to me as quickly as they were supposed to—and I saw her. . . .” She trailed off as if caught in the memory.

  “What happened? Did she see you?”

  “I was going to call out to her. And then Lord Maarte himself asked me not to—with a knife to my throat. Never liked him much after that.”

  Appalled, Mayara halted and looked back at her. She couldn’t read Roe’s expression in the dim glow of the firemoss. “He threatened you?”

  “We lived under constant threat—it just wasn’t always so overt,” Roe said. “Why do you think the Families have so much power? The queen knows where the storms will hit and tells the Families. But it’s the Families who then tell the heirs where to go, saying they’re passing along the words of the queen.”

  “That’s why the heirs didn’t come to my village? Because Lord Maarte wanted to protect his pretty fortress?” She’d been blaming the heirs themselves, but it was Lord Maarte w
ho let the wild spirits attack her village. He’s responsible for the deaths. “This isn’t right. You have to tell someone. No, not someone. Everyone!”

  “Who? The spirits who want us dead?”

  “Then you have to survive!” Mayara whispered fiercely. More islanders could die because of Lord Maarte’s selfishness. It had to be exposed. His crimes . . . He had to be punished. Or at least made so that he couldn’t stand between the queen and saving people!

  “That’s the plan. Lord Maarte still holds my grandparents. Once I’m an heir, I’ll be able to see her and tell her everything, and she’ll free them.”

  “And then what will you do? Once you’re all free and together?”

  “Eat breakfast,” Roe said. “I want to wake up in the morning and have breakfast together, with a view of the sea. And then I want to read a book, with her next to me reading her own book. And take a walk on the beach. Just ordinary things, you know? How about you? What will you do once you’re home? If we survive and become heirs, you’ll be allowed to visit.”

  Mayara thought about it. About making love to Kelo. About rejoicing in her survival with her family—they’d want to throw a party, with drummers and dancing and a shrimp buffet. But really, what she wanted was exactly what Roe had said: the ordinary moments. “An ordinary day sounds perfect.”

  As they crept deeper into the caves, the gray stone began to change. Mica in the rock sparkled as if it were sprayed with diamond dust. It reminded Mayara of dawn light on the sea. And then the gray changed to blue stone, translucent and glowing with a soft blue light of its own. Mayara held the lump of firemoss up to the blue stone. It reflected her face, blurred.

  “Still no spirits,” Roe whispered. “Let’s keep going.”

  Farther in, the blue tunnel widened into a cavern. White limestone stalactites and stalagmites transformed it into a marvel out of a children’s tale. Mayara felt as if they weren’t in the world anymore. They walked through it in wonder and silence.

  On the other side, the cave narrowed and climbed. Soon, light began to flood the tunnel. Mayara tucked the firemoss into her sling. They peeked out and saw below them the cove where they’d first landed. It was still beautiful, lush, and deadly.

  She felt Roe touch her arm—two taps.

  Two spirits.

  Backing up, they retreated, hurrying through the stalactite cave and back through the blue glasslike stone tunnel until they were safely back in their own tiny nook of a cave. They marked their map: they’d found a route from their cave to the cove.

  “I feel like we should celebrate,” Roe said. “We explored and didn’t die! Yay!”

  “More coconut milk?” Mayara offered.

  It tasted extra sweet that night.

  FLUSH FROM THE SUCCESS OF NOT DYING THE DAY BEFORE, THEY took a new path the next day and were met with a new wonder: huge pink and black crystals that speared the room, crisscrossing at all angles to create a labyrinth of translucent stone. In the light of firemoss that grew in the walls, the crystals seemed to glow with their own light.

  “None of this makes sense—both limestones and crystals?” Roe whispered. “I’ve read geology books; I know how rock formations work. None of this should be here. It’s an island built out of a fossilized skeleton. What would make it like this?”

  “Spirits,” Mayara answered. They must have shaped all this beneath the surface of the island, making it as whimsically beautiful as they wished, out of sight of the queen, the heirs, and the Silent Ones.

  Like every tunnel in this underground labyrinth, it branched in multiple directions. They chose the left fork first, following it up to a part of the island they’d never seen: a beach thick with greenery that seemed to move as they watched.

  Roe whispered, “Do you think they’re hunting someone?”

  Yes. Us. And anyone else who’s left. She didn’t answer out loud. Instead she watched as the greenery converged on the shoreline. A wave rose out of the water, bearing a water spirit who held—

  Oh, Great Mother, not another of us!

  Beside her, Roe leaned forward, squinting.

  Hand on her shoulder, Mayara drew her gently back into the tunnel as the spirits within the greenery gave a horrible, gleeful cry. “If it is . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say what they saw was a body. Maybe it wasn’t. It could have been driftwood or a dead dolphin. “It might be no one. And if it isn’t, she’s beyond our help.” There were too many spirits, and the shore was too far from their cave. With less prey to hunt, the spirits were swarming each new find in far greater numbers.

  “It might not be anyone,” Roe agreed. “A trick of the light.”

  But the spirits shrieked again, and Mayara knew they were lying to themselves.

  “If I order them to—” Roe began.

  “No.” She caught Roe’s arm. “You’ll draw them to us.”

  “I’ll send them far away, and then you can sneak down and—”

  “It’s a terrible plan. If just one of them—”

  “I can’t do nothing!”

  Mayara shushed her. “Shh. We’re not doing nothing. We’re staying alive.”

  “But whoever that is needs—” Roe cut herself off, and Mayara saw her eyes widen. She followed Roe’s gaze to the shore. Four air spirits had lifted the woman—it had to be a woman; she was too far away for Mayara to see her features—into the air. Each held an arm or a leg. “Mayara, they’re going to—”

  They flew in four different directions, tearing the woman apart in midair.

  Silently, Mayara and Roe backed into the tunnels. They didn’t speak again until they were in their own cave. Slumping against the wall, Roe said, “I won’t hesitate next time.”

  “And I won’t stop you,” Mayara promised.

  ON THE THIRD DAY OF EXPLORING, THEY FOLLOWED A TUNNEL THAT led to an underground lake, as round as a coin and as black as the night sky. As they skirted the edges of it, Mayara found herself eyeing it, wondering how deep it went and where it led. Did it connect to the sea? But she wasn’t looking for a new dive. She stayed out of the water and kept walking.

  A tap on her arm.

  She ducked behind one of the boulders. So did Roe.

  There was a skittering sound up ahead. It snuffled, and she felt a medium-size earth spirit, not overly intelligent. She felt it was frustrated, though its thoughts weren’t clear enough to identify why. She listened as it lapped at the water and then retreated.

  “Forward or back?” Roe whispered.

  “Forward, slowly.” They could return the way they came if they had to. It didn’t sound as if the spirit was aware of them. It was lumbering away. Creeping, they followed it up and out of the caves.

  A squeeze on her arm.

  Mayara nodded. She felt them too. Lots of spirits. She didn’t even try to see where this path led. They knew enough to know this way was not their escape route.

  Retreating, they tiptoed back to the lake and then kept going until they reached their cave. So far, they’d explored the three major tunnels. Roe added an X to the writhing green beach, an X to the cliff drop, and an X to the route that led to the mass of spirits.

  “We don’t know if that’s their permanent home,” Mayara said.

  “We don’t know it isn’t. Do you want to go back and ask them? Maybe they’ll invite us in for tea.” Her voice sounded oddly rough. Roe drew a shuddering breath. “I can’t stop thinking about her. We don’t even know who it was.”

  “We’d have been killed before we were even sure there was anyone to save,” Mayara pointed out. “They brought her out of the sea—she may have already drowned before . . . before that happened.”

  “If we’d been careful—”

  “No amount of careful would have been enough. We have to focus on what we can do, not what we wish we could.” Studying the map, Mayara tapped the path that led through the crystal cave. “This is what we can do. We can set up a second camp here. What do you think? That way, if we have to abandon this place�
��”

  “Home, sweet home,” Roe muttered.

  “—we’ll at least not have to start from scratch. Plus, it will make it easier to explore the other tunnels, since we’ll already be deeper in.”

  Roe agreed.

  Mayara liked having a plan. It was easier to avoid thinking about what she’d seen if she kept busy. Sorting through the paltry few items they’d accumulated, they debated what to bring and what had to stay—they’d have to hide their supplies at the second camp, and they wanted duplicates of the essentials, such as the coconut water-carrier and glass knives. Packing didn’t take long—It’s not as if we have a lot of belongings, she thought—but they discussed it at length anyway. It filled the time, and their minds, while their bodies rested.

  She checked Roe’s injuries. No sign of infection. Then they ate and slept. The next day, they crept back to the crystal cave, bringing their supplies. Mayara felt optimistic—or at least, she did when she could avoid thinking of the woman on the beach.

  There were enough nooks between the crystals that they had plenty of places to hide their belongings and themselves. Mayara particularly liked a nook beneath a black crystal—the way it was positioned, she could see out but no one could see her. She tested it with Roe.

  “Nice,” Roe said, and then frowned. “What’s that?” Kneeling, she unearthed a lump wrapped in a palm leaf. She unwrapped it and held up a rusted knife.

  Both of them stared at it.

  “Guess we weren’t the first ones to find this place,” Roe said finally.

  Mayara reached out and touched the knife handle with her finger, feeling as if she was touching a piece of history. From all the rust, it must have laid there a long time. “I wonder what happened to whoever it was.” It couldn’t have been good if she’d lost her knife. She felt a shiver up her spine and wondered if this crystal cave wasn’t the best place for a camp after all. It was large, with many nooks and crannies. They’d seemed perfect for hiding—but they were also perfect for spirits to hide in. Steadying herself, she reached out with her mind. . . .