“Look, Gwen,” Aidan said. He pointed to the left. “Do you reckon it’s a house?”
Gwen squinted into the setting sun in the direction of Aidan’s finger. At first she didn’t know what she looked at. In the crevasse of two barren, exposed mounds of bedrock, a clutter of driftwood had collected. Aidan’s comment made her look more closely. There was, perhaps, a wild structure to the pile, the faintest hint that the grayed logs had not gathered there by happenstance. That large, flattish log might be a door, and maybe the layers of wood on the top could act as shingles on a roof. A cluster of seashells adorned the space beside the door, too artfully displayed to be random. Gwen was certain that the gaps in the structure at chest-height were covered in sheets of translucent seaweed, perhaps acting as a windowpane.
“I think you’re right,” she said at last to Aidan. “They’re good at camouflage here, aren’t they?”
Rhiannon raised an eyebrow, but said only, “We’ll camp on the shoreline, over the next hill.”
Gwen’s heart dropped, but before she could say anything, Aidan cut in.
“We’re stopping for the night?” he said, his voice tense. “What about Bran’s health? We don’t have long.” He looked at Gwen’s hand and his jaw worked.
“We can’t do anything in the dark,” Gwen said tersely. As a matter of fact, she agreed wholeheartedly with Aidan’s sentiment—how many hours did she have left?—but his concern made her even more worried, which left her angry and grumpy. She grew annoyed at herself for snapping at Aidan when she caught a glimpse of his hurt expression, which only soured her mood more. She kicked her horse into a trot to put some distance between herself and Aidan, and winced when the increased pace aggravated her sore legs.
When Gwen crested the low hill, her senses were assaulted by the overpowering presence of the sea. A barrage of sound hit her from a cascading torrent of waves that crashed on the pebbly shore. The sulfurous scent of exposed seaweed drifted past her nose, and moist air collected on her skin in a salty dew. Even the sunset was more vibrant here—the foaming waves glowed red and pink under an incandescent sky, which was only separated from the sea by a dark mass of land that jutted out of the water.
Rhiannon stopped her horse beside Gwen’s.
“Isle Caengal,” she said reflectively.
“Bit gloomy, isn’t it?” Tristan said as he and Aidan rode up to the girls.
Rhiannon flicked her braid back from her shoulder.
“Well, it isn’t shrouded with mystery and intrigue for nothing.” She swung down from her horse and unclipped her pack from the saddle. The rest of the horse’s tack came off next, and Tristan proceeded to follow his sister’s lead.
“What are you doing? Are we stopping here?” Gwen asked.
“We won’t need the horses anymore,” Rhiannon said. “We’ll send them off to roam while we’re on the island.”
“They won’t run away? How will we get back home?” Aidan remained seated on his horse.
“No problem, brother,” Tristan said, an easy smile on his face. He hauled his saddle to a nearby scrubby bush, out of sight. “Unhitch your gear, will you? We’ll clip a bit of mane off the horses, and call them back with magic when we need them. They’re wily creatures—they won’t get caught by thieves for a few days.”
Aidan looked at Gwen, who shrugged and slid off her horse. She stumbled until her numb legs supported her unsteady weight.
“I think I’m okay with abandoning the horses for a while—I miss walking.”
“And being able to feel my arse,” Aidan said. He winced when his feet hit the grass.
They stowed their gear under the bush with the growing pile of tack, and Tristan stroked the nearest leaves briefly. The topmost foliage knit together to create an impenetrable barrier of green.
“Keeps water off the leather,” Tristan said when he spotted Gwen’s curious stare. Rhiannon faced the other three.
“How are we getting to the island? Any thoughts?”
Gwen started. Of course they needed a way across the water. Aidan frowned.
“Can’t you magic us across somehow? Make us walk on water or something?”
Tristan laughed.
“Don’t know that one, sorry. Magic is not a free pass, you know. Far too much power needed, especially over that distance and over water.”
“A portal would have been perfect,” Aidan said, his face glum. “Faolan didn’t do us any favors with that bracelet.”
“What if we made a raft?” Tristan said. “I can probably enchant one together. It’ll take some time, and I don’t know if it will hold…”
“Yes, and then what?” Rhiannon arched an eyebrow. “I can probably swim the distance, but the rest of you don’t stand a chance. It’s much farther than you think. Distances are deceiving over water.”
“So swimming is out?” Aidan said. “That was my next suggestion.”
During the discussion Gwen had been scanning the shoreline. She cut in now.
“Is that a village down there, or just a pile of driftwood? If there are people, maybe we could borrow a boat.”
Rhiannon’s head whipped around in the direction of Gwen’s outstretched arm.
“Yes, that’s a village. Best idea so far. Actually, I can see plenty of boats from here. May need some persuasion for the fishers to part with a boat, but I’m sure we can strike a deal.”
They stumbled down the sandy embankment, which was filled with windswept scrubby bushes and driftwood. The crashing waves were loud enough to discourage unnecessary chatter. Their destination was a massive cluster of driftwood piles, tucked beside a grass-topped cliff. It was well protected from the wind and placed above the high tide line. They drew nearer and Gwen could make out doors and windows. They were easier to spot after seeing the lone dwelling from before, but instead of one house, these windows and doors were a part of a greater abode. Gwen was reminded of the warren in the Velvet Woods.
They saw nobody until they had come within twenty paces of the nearest door. Gwen jumped violently when she heard a voice.
“Evening, strangers.”
Aidan leaped almost as far as Gwen, and even Tristan’s head jerked around. Rhiannon maintained her usual calm.
“Good evening. Do the fish swim well today?”
“Straight to the net, and never out.”
Gwen was puzzled by the question and answer—perhaps it was a form of greeting in this realm. The speaker had seemed to expect the question. Every part of him was long and thin, from his elongated legs to his lank blond hair, and he had folded himself onto a jutting piece of broken sandstone above the high tide line. He was dressed in a faded blue shirt and gray trousers that shimmered in the dying light. When Gwen looked more closely, she realized that he was liberally sprinkled with fish scales that glittered and shone. A fine-meshed net draped across his lap, and his fingers continued to make knots around a rip in the mesh while he spoke. His eyes never strayed from the foursome.
Rhiannon cast her eyes out to the water and scanned the waves and clouds critically.
“Stormy tomorrow, I reckon.”
“No fishing at dawn. You have an eye for these things.” He glanced at her with appreciation.
“I was born beyond the Mereless headland.” She paused. “We’re in need of a boat tomorrow.”
“Dangerous waters, if you want to travel to the fishing grounds. And the fish will be too deep from the storm. I have a boat, indeed, but I am leery of lending it out in the coming weather. Even if you are a ‘Shorian.”
“We don’t want to fish. We wish to make land on Isle Caengal.”
The previously stoic man burst out in laughter. A few heads popped out of doorways, curious, but retreated swiftly when Gwen looked their way.
“No one lands on Isle Caengal,” he said once he had caught his breath. “The monster sees to that.”
Gwen glanced at Aidan, whose face paled.
“What monster?” Tristan said. His attempt to sound casual was a thin
veil that did not disguise his unease.
“Have you not heard that no one lands on Caengal?” Tristan nodded, and the man said, “Did you never wonder why? It’s guarded by a sea beast, so hideous, so powerful, that no boat has ever passed through its territory in living memory. I’ve seen two attempts in my life, one when I was a boy and one other, ten years ago. The entire village stopped to watch the carnage.”
Gwen broke out in a cold sweat. Was this it? How could they get past a sea monster, when no one else had ever done it?
“How do you fish, with a monster in your bay?” Rhiannon said.
“The monster is no true beast of the sea. It is bound to the island, to guard it for eternity. It never ventures past the two rocks, there.” He pointed at two tiny islands in the bay, between the shore and Isle Caengal’s looming darkness. The islands were only large enough to host twenty birds each. “We don’t bother it, and it doesn’t bother us.”
Rhiannon nodded slowly.
“We are still in need of a boat for tomorrow. We can give you gifts in exchange for the loan.”
Tristan shifted from foot to foot, but remained silent. Gwen wanted to say something, but what? What Rhiannon serious about taking the boat to the island? But what other choice did they have?
“It won’t be a loan,” the man said. He continued to mend his net without looking at it. “As it happens, I have a second boat that I don’t use anymore. She’s in rough shape, but she holds water. You can take her off my hands, for the right exchange.”
“I’d like to see the boat first.”
The man nodded, and his fingers finally ceased their endless knotting. He slid the net over his shoulder and unfolded himself from the rock. His head jerked for them to follow, and they set off along the beach toward the headland.
Dried seaweed crackled under Gwen’s feet. She drew close to Aidan.
“Do we have anything to trade for the boat?”
“I don’t know. I presume Rhiannon has something. Declan would have sent them with provisions, I suppose.”
“So Declan is paying our way?”
“Yeah, well, it’s not as if he’s ever done anything for me before. It’s about time.”
Gwen didn’t like to hear the bitterness in Aidan’s voice, but she understood where it came from. She brushed his hand with her own lightly, and he twined his fingers through hers, as if grateful for the gesture. Rhiannon glanced at them, and her eyes landed on their connected hands. She turned back without expression.
Beyond the driftwood warren was a tiny bay, tucked between the warren and the headland. A dozen tiny coracles bobbed in the water, protected from the crashing waves by a breakwater of crushed rock at the mouth of the bay. The man waded into the shallow water and pushed the little round boats until he grabbed the one he searched for. It was far bigger than the others, elongated rather than circular, with multiple tarred hides stretched around its hull.
“Here she is. Isn’t she a beauty?” His smile was mocking. “I won her off a fisherman down the coast, in a bet. She’s far too large for my purposes, but she’ll take all of you, and hold water too. At least until you’re capsized.”
Gwen clenched Aidan’s hand tighter. Rhiannon didn’t react to the man’s comment, but waded into the water to join him. She looked at the coracle with a critical eye and turned it around in the water to examine every inch.
“It’s certainly seen better days, but it will manage the journey.” She opened the satchel that swung at her side and drew out a clay whistle on a leather strap. It was round, no larger than her palm, and had four holes to play different notes with. Rhiannon presented it to the man.
“It has been spelled to bring seven days of good fishing. All you need to do is play a few notes when you reach the fishing grounds, and your catches that day will be the best of your year.”
The man looked at the whistle on Rhiannon’s outstretched hand.
“Who did you say you were?”
“We didn’t.”
He gave a slow nod.
“A fair trade.” He picked the whistle up and hung it around his neck. “The boat is yours.”
The man helped Rhiannon float the coracle to the water’s edge and lift it to her shoulders, and Tristan hoisted the other end in his arms. Aidan took the offered paddle, and they trundled along the shore like a large beetle crawling on the sand.
Silence reigned until they arrived at the beach near their hidden saddles. Rhiannon and Tristan dropped the coracle above the high tide line. Rhiannon sat down and Tristan stretched his shoulders.
“So, battling a monster tomorrow, are we?” He bent down to rummage in his saddle bag. “Should be fun.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Gwen said. The siblings had no reason to risk their lives for her. If she died, what was it to them? Some regret, a few days of sadness, perhaps, but no lasting damage.
Tristan looked at her, puzzled. He held a long dagger in one hand and a whetstone in the other.
“We’re not going to leave you to battle a sea monster on your own.”
“But we’ll probably die,” Gwen said. Her throat closed as she choked on the import of her own words. What about her father, back in the human world? He would never know what had happened to her, would always be waiting for her to return.
“It’s clear that Aidan is going, no matter what. And Aidan is family. We don’t leave family behind. We’ll face this monster, and we’ll win or we won’t. Did you think it would be easy to get the restoration spell? We were expecting obstacles. Rhiannon and I knew what we were signing up for.” He started to sharpen his dagger on the whetstone. “What do you think, Rhiannon? Any old sea monster tips for us landlubbers?”
“Depends on the type of monster. It’s a pity the fisherman wasn’t more forthcoming. With some sea serpents, you had to be careful of the teeth—too sharp by far. Others had poisonous spines that could rip boats apart. Death by drowning and poison—not the most pleasant way to go.” Gwen was growing more horrified by the minute, but Rhiannon lay back calmly on her elbows and continued to speak as if all this information were theoretical. “Sea squids, of course, you need to keep track of all the tentacles.”
“Any success stories battling sea monsters? Anything we can learn from?” Tristan said.
“Mmm, there was one man who took down a squid. How did he do it again? Oh yes, he jumped in the water and swam below the squid while it was occupied with his boat, and pierced its eye. Brave, but lucky as well. A last-resort move.”
“You don’t say,” Aidan said. “What do you aim for if it has poison spines everywhere?”
“The snout, perhaps? I don’t know, I’m no expert. I left these shores when I was eight. Battling squids was not in my repertoire at that age, and sea serpents are extinct.”
“How far do you reckon we could float ourselves magically, if the boat sunk?” Aidan asked Gwen.
“I haven’t practiced that one much,” Gwen said, a heavy lump in her stomach. “Probably not far enough.”
“Only the most powerful can hover their own bodies over water,” Tristan said. “None of us qualify. Solid ground is much easier. And Gwen’s still recovering, although she’s probably back to full strength by now. Here, I have extra daggers for you. You’ll have something to defend yourself with, at least. Just remember to slice, not stab. That’s the best way to do some damage.” He gave Rhiannon a worried glance. She shrugged.
Gwen thought she might be sick. To distract herself, she turned to the saddlebags.
“Anyone hungry for dinner?” Gwen doubted she could force anything down her tight throat, but it gave her something to do. Aidan moved to help. She said, “I’ve got it.” She was surprised by the coldness in her voice.
“How are you feeling? About all this, and the bracelet?”
“I’m fine,” she said, louder and harsher than she meant to.
Aidan backed off, looking bewildered.
Now she had hurt his feelings. Gwen clenched her fists, annoyed a
nd disgusted with herself. She wasn’t treating him the way he should be treated. She wasn’t good for him—not only was she not sure about their relationship, but now she was dragging him and his new-found family into very real danger. It was her fault. She was the one who wanted to help Isolde. He didn’t have to be here, but he was, anyway. He deserved better, and she was leading him to his probable death. She turned away and busied herself in the bag.
“We could use some seafood to liven up our meal,” Rhiannon said from behind her. “Tristan, take Aidan to search for oysters or mussels.”
“You’re the expert collector.”
“I’ve taught you well enough. Go on, we’ll start a fire.”
Gwen didn’t watch Aidan trudge down the beach, accompanied by Tristan. Her gut squirmed with guilt. She had made a bad situation worse, and hurt Aidan even more in the process.
Rhiannon stood and collected small pieces of driftwood that surrounded Gwen. When Gwen felt more in control of herself, she joined her. Rhiannon let a few minutes pass in silence while they gathered. Then she spoke.
“What’s going on between you and Aidan?”
Gwen looked sharply at Rhiannon, but the other girl made no eye contact. She squatted down beside their driftwood pile and calmly assembled the wood over bunches of dried grass.
“What do you mean?”
Rhiannon sighed.
“You obviously care about each other. I assumed you were a couple, but every so often you lash out and push him away. So, what’s going on? Aidan seems like a decent person, but is there something I don’t know about him?”
Gwen’s eyes pricked with tears. She blinked hard to dash them away. Now even Rhiannon thought she was callous and uncaring. She stayed quiet, not sure what to say.
“Look, you don’t have to talk to me.” Rhiannon spread her fingers over the neat pile she had made. A flame burst up from the grasses. “But you clearly have something bothering you, and Aidan is suffering for it. It would be best for everyone if you got it off your chest. We have a battle tomorrow, and we need to be a team. No hidden drama.”
Breenan Series Box Set Page 37