World of Aluvia 2

by Amy Bearce

  Wiping the road dust from her face and neck with a towel, Nell stayed silent during Corbin’s retelling of the day’s events. At the end, she just shook her head and said, “It’s always something. Can’t anyone be normal around here?”

  Nell wasn’t one to make conjectures about things she didn’t understand, so the topic moved on to her trip and how big her siblings had grown. As the others talked, Phoebe watched the shadows along the walls as the fireplace flames lowered. She went to her room early, picked out swim clothes for her journey, and crawled beneath her bedcovers.

  Waiting until the main room grew silent, she was almost ready to slip into her swim clothes when someone tapped on the door. She jumped back into the bed and pulled the covers up, shoving the incriminating clothing under the pallet.

  “Phoebe?” The voice at the door was soft, tentative. Sierra’s. The door cracked open.

  “Come in,” Phoebe said, chewing on her bottom lip. She really didn’t have time for another argument.

  Her eyes widened when Sierra stepped through the door with a shy, non-Sierra-like-smile. She had on the bright blue socks Phoebe knit years before, along with a silly hat in pinks and greens. They clashed terribly. Phoebe snorted, trying to hide her laughter, no doubt as Sierra had intended.

  “I found this hat in my trunk, and I remembered when you made it for me. Do you?” Sierra asked.

  Phoebe swallowed. “That was the first thing I made you after I got back. From Bentwood’s.”

  Tears shimmered in Sierra’s eyes, reflecting the light of the little oil lamp in the corner. “It was the first time I believed you were going to be okay. You had gotten through all the chaos of the fortress crumbling from the quake, and then sort of fell apart yourself when we got home.”

  “I remember.” Phoebe kept her head down, voice low.

  She didn’t like remembering those days. It was as if she had been a stained glass window, sturdy against the wind and rain. But someone had thrown a rock through the carefully designed images that glowed in the sunlight, and afterward, there had been only shards of darkened glass all over the floor. But she’d put them back together, over time. The artwork looked slightly different now, with some new scenes present, and other familiar ones crooked, but light shone through brilliantly just the same. At least on most days.

  Sierra explained, “I love this hat, as silly as it is, because it reminds me of the hope I had for you then. I know I’ve been hard on you lately. I just don’t want to see you so hurt again if the worst happens. It would destroy me. I’m the one who’s weak here. It’s not you.”

  But I could be, Phoebe thought. If she sat quietly by and allowed her friends to suffer, that would be weak. Cowardly. And she’d hate herself for it. She accepted she still suffered moments of unbearable panic from her past experiences. She couldn’t help that. But she had a choice now about her future.

  “I love you no matter what,” was all she could say to Sierra without lying. And Phoebe didn’t want to lie. Didn’t want to pretend. But she would go ahead with her plans to help the merfolk, despite the risks, because she knew Sierra wouldn’t budge. Her sister was loving, but stubbornness itself could take lessons from that girl.

  Sierra gave another hug, squeezing hard. Phoebe had a moment of misgiving, even guilt about her plans, but she just buried her face against her sister’s neck and tried to show her love through the embrace of her arms.

  After Sierra slipped back to her room, Phoebe wiped her eyes and waited until the crack under her door went totally dark, indicating the fire was out in the front room. She listened against her door until only silence floated in the air, then she quickly changed clothes, slipped on her boots, and crept out.

  She yelped at the sight of Nell sitting near the front door, tipped back with her feet kicked up on the table. Phoebe glanced around, but no one else came running.

  “Going somewhere, little songbird?”

  Phoebe suspected Nell used Tristan’s nickname for her on purpose.

  Phoebe gulped. Words deserted her. She should have guessed there’d be a sentry posted. Sierra was too cautious to leave Phoebe’s safety in her own hands.

  “Looks like you’re after a midnight stroll. Perhaps to the beach, hmm?” Nell smirked at her, eyeing the smoothly fitted top and tight leggings Phoebe always wore into the water.

  Nell stood up, brushing off her canvas pants. “I get it. I want to help the merfolk, too. But I can’t let you go off by yourself. Look what happened yesterday and today already! Not to mention your sister would kill me.”

  “She wouldn’t have to know,” Phoebe whispered.

  Nell snorted. “Right. Because your sister would believe that I just fell asleep on duty. Please.”

  Nell would never do that, Phoebe knew. Her heart fell. She had to think of a way to get to the water. She’d go crazy if she stayed here, when maybe she had a real chance to help Tristan. What if they could figure out how to use this power she had, whatever it was, to fight the water wraith if it attacked the merfolk? She needed to at least warn them that Tristan’s mother was right―Baleros was probably returning, and his water wraiths were back, at least one of them. That was Phoebe’s only plan, as far as it went.

  “Nell, you and Sierra were my age exactly when you went seeking the wild fairies, don’t you remember?”

  “And we nearly died.”

  “But you didn’t. She won’t even let me journey with you anymore. It’s been two years. I’m tired of sitting here and cooking and cleaning. I want to make a difference.”

  Nell wrinkled her brow in sympathy, but she still blocked the exit. She didn’t even have to stand by the door. Her presence and ability to awaken Sierra at a second’s notice was enough.

  Phoebe tried one last thing. She padded over to the tall warrior who had become a friend and laid a palm on her arm. “Please, Nell. This is something I need to do. I know it in my heart.”

  Nell said, “I’m sorry, I―” She stiffened, and her words gurgled and cut off as her eyes turned black as night.

  Phoebe shivered.

  The gravelly voice that had spoken warnings and prophecies over the last four years poured out of Nell’s mouth like honey, softer than usual, almost a whisper.

  “So willing to serve. So eager to sacrifice. You can indeed serve the merfolk well. But be wary, young one. Though the sea-dwellers need you, if you accept the gift you are given, the sea will claim you. Now go if you so choose.”

  With those last words, Nell’s eyes closed, and she sank to the floor, as if the forces that worked through her were conspiring to set Phoebe free. Nell hardly ever fainted after a spell anymore.

  “I’m sorry,” Phoebe whispered then ran out of the house. She dodged through the woods, trying to keep a low profile in case Donovan and his partner were still around. Her pulse thundered in her ears―tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump―as she raced unerringly toward her favorite spot. She called to Tristan and Mina in her heart as she ran, trying hard to believe in this magic she supposedly had, but doubts clamored through her mind again. Maybe Micah really had just smelled the sea on her, no matter what he thought. It was easier to hold onto hope in her living room than running alone in the dark.

  She knew she didn’t have much time before Sierra came to get her. Phoebe called Tristan and Mina in her mind. Come to me! I need you! She sensed no response. Feeling foolish, she just focused on reaching the beach.

  Branches tugged in her hair as she ran. She lacked the grace and strength of her sister or Nell. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t help. Anger surged through her, adding speed to her steps. Her mind churned through all the possibilities for her future.

  During their battle with Bentwood’s people, her sister used her link with the fairies to guide them to her. She bonded so deeply to Queenie, they had shared magic and saved each other’s lives. If Phoebe could use her magic the same way, maybe she could actually protect the merfolk from a creature like the wraith, either giving them warning or sending them h
er magic and strength when they needed it.

  And if that happened, maybe Sierra would finally offer Phoebe true respect along with her love.

  Phoebe ducked through the field where the old fairy hatch had been. She could smell the briny purity of the sea. Close. Her mind kept returning to one odd thing the voice said, though, that bit about the sea claiming her. That sounded rather alarming. She wasn’t sure what it would mean to accept the gift from the sea, but having the sea claim her didn’t sound like things would end well.

  Her breath shuddered in her lungs, and her lips were numb from fear. But she wouldn’t give up. Sierra had been willing to die for her fairy queen. Phoebe felt the same about the merfolk. She didn’t understand why no one else cared, but she was determined to help them now.

  The woods ended and opened all at once, like a split water bag, pouring Phoebe out into the rocky sand. She hoped they had heard her call through whatever magic she supposedly possessed. She couldn’t get far on her journey without a merfolk to help her, and there was no time to waste. She berated herself for not describing the wraith in better detail to Tristan, even for not being more observant during the attack.

  The moon glowed high overhead. The smooth reflection in the water barely shivered as the wind blew. The cove was beautiful but empty. No merfolk popped up to greet her. No birds cried out. The silvery moonlight picked out every crevice, every rock, but nothing stirred the water. She stumbled over to her favorite rock. It seemed long ago she had last sat here, singing, trying to forget her past. Was that just yesterday?

  She slapped her hands into the water and called for her mer-friends as loudly as she dared, uneasy at the way her voice amplified over the water. Surely Donovan had given up, though, and left hours ago.

  “Tristan! Mina! Come on, I need you!” She hoped perhaps her supposed magical draw would pull them forth, out of love for her. She even tried calling under the water to them but felt certain the gurgles she made traveled no further than the jetty.

  No one appeared. She lowered her head onto her legs, wet hair sticking to her cheeks. What if the water wraith got to the merfolk before she did? What if Tristan or Mina died because Phoebe had run home? She should have gone with Tristan to see the elders and told them what she’d seen. They might have known what it was and taken precautions.

  She stared miserably at the sea, scanning the horizon. Her vision blurred. No one else made her giddy and all coiled up inside like Tristan did. No one else made her so happy. She should have told him how she cared for him, more than just hints. And Mina was a best friend, too, and Phoebe might never see her again. Her shoulders wracked with sobs.

  Her hand brushed against an odd shape on the rock beside her. It had been sitting there, but at first she thought it was just a clump of seaweed. As she blinked tears out of her eyes, she realized it was seaweed, but it was wrapped around something, like a package. It was one of Tristan’s gifts!

  She snatched up the small object, which nestled easily into her palm, and tugged on the sea fronds looped around it. They were squishy against her fingertips. The cold seaweed unfurled, leaving a single glowing pearl in the middle of her hand, the size of a berry, hanging from a thin silver chain. Soft white light swirled inside the sphere. This was no ordinary pearl.

  This had to be a merfolk tear. She’d heard stories about them. Who hadn’t? Stories by the fire, stories for little children, but her mer-friends said simply that merfolk generally had no need for tears, or even the ability to shed them except in cases of extreme grief. Tears from merfolk were so rare that it was said they coalesced into glowing pearls that, when given freely, granted the owner one wish.

  Her friends had never confirmed that part, laughing when she’d asked. But maybe the myth was true? A normal pearl wouldn’t glow like that. Phoebe threw away the seaweed and gripped the pearl in her hand, the slightly gritty surface reassuringly solid in her hand. The chain dangled between her fingers. Nothing would crush this pearl. It felt like iron.

  Her pulse raced like a merfolk’s tail. What could have made one of the merfolk cry? Had Tristan’s tears formed this pearl? She blanched at the thought of him crying over anything.

  But what to do with it?

  She took a deep breath, taking strength from the rich scents of the beach. She tried to relax, so the answer could come to her. She let her ears fill with the soft rumble of the waves rolling in farther down the shore. Here, the surf was almost always gentle and quiet. She let the quietness spread through her. She reached for the unexpected peace that had risen inside when she thought she would die beneath the waters. There was a blue light then. Maybe Nell’s prophecy had something to do with that.

  Phoebe stood up, took off her boots, and crossed over to the shallow end of the shore. She didn’t feel bold enough to slide into the dark waters by the pool. The water in the shallows was so clear she could see the bottom along here in the moonlight. It was probably safe. The chilly water lapped at her ankles. She shivered and waded forward a few more steps until the water reached her hips. Had the sun been up, this would have been refreshing. Now, her feet ached from the chill. The sharp edges of crushed shells pressed against her skin. She walked until the water touched her chattering chin.

  She examined the pearl. It glowed brighter, or perhaps that was just her imagination. Concentrate, Phoebe! Things must be dire for Tristan to have actually cried.

  She kept her palm open, staring at the pearl. “Please,” she said, not knowing to whom she spoke and feeling foolish for it. “I need to help them. But no one’s coming. I need to reach them. Just let me breathe.”

  She put on the necklace. Slowly, so slowly, she sank below the water. Her swimming shirt stuck tightly around her, but she was used to the sensation. She kept her eyes open despite the burn. The pearl flared even brighter under the water. She understood then. It would have to be a matter of trust.

  She opened her mouth, letting the cold water fill it.

  I can do this, she thought.

  Please.

  She took a deep breath of sea water.

  splitting pain knifed through Phoebe’s body. Icy cold spread along her skin, racing from her toes to the back of her neck. She tried to scream but could only gurgle as her throat felt like it burst into flames under the water.

  Her breath came faster. She was thankful she was actually breathing, not drowning, no matter how it felt at the moment. The pearl was working. She could breathe and see underwater. Her hands flew to her neck, but her skin was as smooth as ever. No gills, unlike the merfolk. Her stomach did a slow roll. Breathing underwater magically with her friends was one thing. Being deep underwater alone, depending on an inanimate object she didn’t understand, was another.

  She looked down at the necklace resting on her chest. Clearly, the magic was coming from it. But she’d better move fast, just in case there was a time limit on how long the magic lasted.

  The water slid against her skin like satin, not chilly at all now. She wrapped her hand around the pearl and whispered a word of thanks. Then she summoned all her courage and swam into the dark waters as Tristan taught her long ago. Mina and Tristan needed her. And nothing would stop her. Not Sierra, not the ocean itself.

  The thought of Sierra made Phoebe hesitate, just for one heartbeat. Her sister was going to lose her mind. Well, Sierra would just have to understand. It was done now, anyway.

  Electric yellow fish darted away from Phoebe’s reaching hands as she pulled herself forward through the water. A sea turtle stared at her in what might have been surprise, but she kept going, smiling a little. Beneath her, a forest of tube worms fanned out, waving in the dim light, feathery red petals of gills slurping suddenly into their tubes as she passed by.

  The sea floor dropped away as she swam farther, and the light grew dimmer. She wished it were daytime. If only she could glow as her mer-friends did. Their steady light would be comforting about now. At least spots of light floated in the increasing darkness. The pale bluish lights around h
er looked like a carnival as glowing sea creatures rose from the twilight depths of the sea to seek food in the shallows under the cover of darkness. The sea was full of magic.

  Also full of danger, she could almost hear Sierra say. A jolt ran through Phoebe. Pulling her attention from the surrounding beauty, she swam faster toward where she thought the merfolk lived. Fewer creatures lit the gloomy waters here, and a shiver of fear threaded through Phoebe. She was without her friends… and the water wraith might still be out there.

  She gulped and kept a close eye out for jellyfish and sharks. Kicking her legs faster, she picked up the pace, looking over her shoulders into the growing blackness behind her, watching the pinwheeling dots of lights spin. It was other-worldly, completely different than the ocean she knew along the coast. She felt incredibly alone.

  When Phoebe was scared, one thing she always did was sing. She hadn’t really ever sung underwater much before, but now she found herself singing softly as she went, the melody of a plucky, happy tune pushing past her stiff lips as she swiveled her head from side to side. The notes chimed like bells.

  For a moment her breath froze in her chest as a large shadow moved along the floor below her. When it turned out to be a giant school of sleek black fish, she almost sobbed with relief.

  Mina’s stories about the kraken octopuses crept through Phoebe’s mind. They were rare in these waters, she reminded herself. But not unheard of. Even regular octopuses were dangerous. The loathsome, many-armed, baggy-headed creatures made her want to curl into a ball and hide ever since one grabbed her when she was first learning to swim in the ocean with Tristan. It took days for the sucker marks to fade from her leg. Luckily, Sierra had been gone on another trip, or that would have ended Phoebe’s visits to the ocean right then.

  As fear rose, so did her voice, but just for a moment. Perhaps singing as she swam wasn’t the best way to stay hidden. She stopped, just as a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her into a forest of seaweed. Another hand clamped over her mouth.