At the mention of a battle, Gwen’s mind filled with images of terrible monsters gleaned from movies.
“But that’s the problem! It’s my fault Aidan is here. If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t be risking his life, and yours too. He’s so wonderful to me, and I treat him like his life is worth nothing. And if we make it out of here alive, somehow, he’s going to move away from everything he knows to follow me to another country. He’s so certain about us. What if he’s wrong? What if it doesn’t work out? What if I stop caring about him, and I’ve dragged him away from his life to follow me?”
Gwen stopped, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She hadn’t meant to say anything to Rhiannon, but the words had flowed out of her in a torrent. Perhaps it was Rhiannon’s calmness, her lack of reaction, which had induced Gwen to say so much.
Rhiannon didn’t answer right away. She blew on the little flame to encourage the driftwood to catch fire. Gwen turned to the sea, the red sky now a grayish pink and fading fast.
“I thought Aidan was traveling to your land to attend this school of music,” Rhiannon said at last.
“Well, yeah. But he could go anywhere for that. He doesn’t have to come so far.”
“But he would still have to leave his home, wouldn’t he?”
Gwen nodded.
“I just feel that so much hinges on whether we work out.”
The driftwood now on fire, Rhiannon fed the flames from her pile. Gwen watched the dancing flames in silence.
“Aidan has a gift,” Rhiannon said. “At least, he is unusual in this world. Does the gift of music come so commonly in your world?”
“Oh, no, Aidan has a remarkable talent. He’s really amazing.”
“Is the school in your land so terrible, that he wouldn’t learn anything there?”
“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s pretty good.”
Rhiannon finally looked up at Gwen. She gave her a puzzled smile.
“Then let Aidan follow his passion for music, and combine it with love for you. He’s of age. He can make his own decisions. It sounds to me that there is more to take him to your land than just you, so your conscience can be clear.”
“But he could go anywhere.”
Rhiannon studied Gwen.
“Do you care for Aidan?”
“Of course I do. But we’ve known each other for such a short time. What if it doesn’t work out?”
“Let him come. Perhaps he’s not right for you. But how will you know if you don’t try? Sometimes you have to jump in with both feet, especially in love. If it doesn’t work out, then you’ll find someone else. But what if it does work out? Don’t you want to know what that would be like?”
Gwen’s lip trembled. Was it that easy?
“So you think I’m being silly?”
Rhiannon gave a rare, genuine smile.
“I think you care enough about him to worry like this. That’s a good sign.” She poked at the fire, now burning merrily. “But I do think you need to talk to Aidan about your fears. I expect he’ll do a better job at convincing you than I will.”
A crunching sound alerted Gwen to the approach of Aidan and Tristan. It was dark now, too dark to see far. The fire glowed bright, a beacon on the dusky beach. Tristan held up a handful of oyster shells.
“Success! Let’s eat.”
Aidan deposited his handful of oysters next to the fire with Tristan’s and sat down on the sand near Gwen, but avoided her gaze. She fretted at her lower lip. How could she mend this?
“Gwen, could you find some bread while these cook?” Rhiannon said. “Mmm, it’s been too long since I’ve had good oysters.” She prodded the fire to expose some coals, and nestled the oysters in glowing embers. Gwen rummaged in a saddle bag until she found loaves of flatbread, wrapped in waxed cloth.
When the shells sprang apart, Tristan rolled the oysters out of the fire and pried them open with his dagger and his sleeve as a glove. Despite her fears and worries, Gwen’s stomach finally rumbled with hunger. It had been a long time since they’d eaten. The oysters smelled heavenly, and the flatbread was divine to Gwen’s hungry taste buds.
The four didn’t speak much over dinner, and after they had eaten Rhiannon pulled out her blanket.
“I’m done,” she said, a yawn overtaking her words. “Better get an early start tomorrow. No point in wasting daylight hours.” She glanced pointedly at Gwen’s wrist.
Gwen, relaxed from dinner, clenched her jaw at the reminder of the deadly bracelet. Without a further word, Rhiannon rolled over. Tristan dug out his own blanket.
“Night, you two. Sleep well—you’ll need it.”
“So encouraging,” Aidan muttered. Tristan grinned and closed his eyes. Before long, both siblings were breathing quietly and rhythmically in sleep.
Aidan said nothing, but stared into the fire with a brooding expression on his face. Night had fallen in earnest and stars began to glow, one by one, in the dark sky. Gwen fidgeted. What did she want to say?
“Look, Aidan,” she said. He continued to gaze at the dying fire. “I wanted to say—I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I haven’t been very nice to you lately. You’re doing this for me, and I’ve treated you badly. I’m sorry.” She scuffed her toes together, back and forth, the boots making a muffled scraping sound.
Aidan shrugged.
“It’s been a tough few days. We’ve all been on edge. You, especially, with that thing on your wrist.”
“I know, but it’s no excuse.”
He looked at her then, and gave her a wry smile.
“You’re forgiven.”
Was it that easy? Gwen didn’t know how to talk to Aidan about the reason for her temper. It was too late to discuss it, though, so she shuffled over to him and he held out an arm for her to snuggle into. They lay back together and contemplated the stars.
“We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” Aidan said. “I know we will.”
“Oh, let’s not talk about it.” Gwen shivered and clutched him closer. “I was enjoying just lying here.”
“Do you reckon Tristan and Rhiannon are asleep?” Aidan raised his head to look at his siblings.
“I think so.”
“Good.” Aidan turned swiftly and pressed his lips to hers. Gwen smiled through her returning kiss.
Chapter 11
The lightening sky awoke Gwen. She was still wrapped in Aidan’s arms, and when she sat up, he stirred.
“Morning,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.
Gwen smiled down at him before she looked at Isle Caengal with a frown. Even in the morning light, it looked forbidding and unwelcoming.
Aidan followed her gaze.
“Let’s wake the others and get this show started.” He sat up with a groan. “Oh, why is the ground so hard?”
Gwen crawled over to Rhiannon.
“Rhiannon? It’s light out. Should we get moving?”
Rhiannon blinked awake and sat up quickly. She was alert in seconds.
“Yes, of course. Have a bite of food, and we’ll leave at once.” She picked up a piece of driftwood and lobbed it at her brother. He grunted awake. “Wake up, Tristan. Time to go.”
“Such a delicate flower, you are.” He rubbed his back where she had hit him.
After bread and dried fruit, Tristan and Aidan carried the coracle to the water’s edge. Rhiannon and Gwen followed with a satchel of food. The rest they stowed in the bush with the hidden saddles.
“We’ll need provisions for the ride home,” Rhiannon said briskly. “We shouldn’t be on the island for long. We won’t need much.”
Gwen appreciated Rhiannon’s optimism, but stared bleakly at the ocean before them. There was no sun today. Dark clouds had coalesced into a thick blanket of gray above their heads, and the sea roiled unsteadily under a fitful wind.
“Does anyone know how to steer this thing?” Aidan said. He prodded the coracle doubtfully with his foot.
“Make a figure-eight in the water,” Tristan said. He
swiped the paddle through the air to demonstrate. “Sit in the front, and use the motion to pull us forward.” He handed the paddle to Aidan.
“I’m driving, am I?”
“Rhiannon and I need our hands free, in case the monster decides to make an appearance. And I assume you’re not going to make Gwen paddle while you sit idle in the back of our leisure cruise?” He winked at Gwen. Aidan huffed and mimicked Tristan’s motions with the paddle in midair.
Rhiannon waded into the cold water and held the coracle steady.
“Come on, Gwen. Hop in.”
Gwen shrugged at Aidan, and waded in. The bitingly cold water sloshed into her boots, and she gasped involuntarily. She grabbed the edge of the coracle and was astonished by its instability. It rocked with every wave that hit its side, and reacted to her slightest touch.
“How am I supposed to get into this thing? It’s going to tip for sure.”
“I’m holding it,” Rhiannon said. Her voice was as calm as always. “You’ll be fine.”
Gwen hoisted a leg over the side and pushed off with her other foot. She tried to throw her weight toward the center of the little boat, but overcompensated. The boat rocked violently. Tristan whistled.
“This’ll be a wild ride.”
Aidan followed Gwen into the boat. Gwen clutched the edges of the coracle with whitened hands, sure they were about to tip into the icy water. Aidan managed to shuffle to the bow without mishap, past their satchel and another shapeless sack made of oiled canvas. Tristan followed more gracefully, and Rhiannon joined them with a leap as if she were born in a coracle.
“All right, Aidan,” Tristan said. “Show us your skills.”
Aidan dipped his paddle into the water hesitantly and pulled a figure-eight. The coracle shot forward, unencumbered by a deep keel. A wave splashed into his face and he sputtered.
“Keep paddling!” Rhiannon called out. “We need to get past the wave break.”
Indistinct muttering emerged from the bow, but Aidan dug his paddle in resolutely and the coracle rode the incoming waves as it bobbed away from shore.
The boat grew steadier when they had passed the foamy waves and Aidan’s paddling grew surer. Halfway to the barrier rocks, Tristan winked at Gwen and said to Aidan, “Is that all you have? Put some muscle in it.”
The only reply Aidan gave was a sheet of water directed at Tristan from his well-aimed paddle. Tristan grinned and threw up his hand. The water froze in place, then poured diagonally to fall back into the water.
Gwen surprised herself by grinning, but her smiles quickly subsided. The entry rocks grew nearer. Three seagulls perched on the leftmost island, their cold, beady eyes following the progress of the coracle. When their little boat approached, all three birds took to the sky with large, ponderous wings, shrieking their displeasure to the skies. The melancholic cries struck Gwen with a sense of foreboding, and she shivered.
Aidan slowed before they reached the entry islands, and they rocked in the sloppy waves. He turned to face the others.
“What’s the plan?”
“You’ll paddle quickly but calmly in a direct path to the beach.” Rhiannon pointed to a small opening in the cliffs of Isle Caengal, where a stony beach received the lapping ocean. “Gwen will keep a lookout for any disturbances, and Tristan and I will have our weapons ready. At the slightest sign of attack, we fight. No matter what, Aidan, keep paddling. The sooner we get there, the less time anything will have to attack us.”
Aidan swallowed and nodded. He gave Gwen a wan smile which she tried to return, and faced forward once more. Tristan unsheathed his dagger and handed the satchel to Gwen.
“Better put this on your back. I’d rather not lose it in a commotion.”
Gwen’s hands shook as she slung the satchel over her shoulder. She gripped the small dagger Tristan had given her yesterday with white knuckles. Was this it? Was this how people felt going into battle, like they might faint and vomit and scream all at the same time? Would they come out of this alive? She should have kissed Aidan one last time.
Rhiannon looked at her and smiled faintly.
“We can do this, Gwen. Tristan and I have been in tighter spots. Have some faith.”
Gwen nodded, but couldn’t speak through her tight jaw. Aidan began to paddle. The coracle glided through the water with every swift pull. The bay’s gray waters and choppy waves made it difficult to scan for disturbances, and Gwen’s imagination pictured a fin or tentacle in every trough.
They approached the islands, drew level to them, and crossed the invisible line spanning the two. Nothing happened.
“Do you see anything?” Gwen whispered, her voice high and thin.
“Perhaps it’s asleep,” Tristan said quietly. “Keep paddling, Aidan. Nice and smooth.”
The rolling waves pitched them from side to side as they swept between the rocks in front of Isle Caengal. Gwen scanned the water, her heart hammering. She allowed herself the faintest ray of hope. Maybe the monster was a legend after all. Maybe they would complete their journey unmolested.
The water to her left bubbled and frothed.
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Gwen said. She pointed with a frantic finger. “What’s that?”
Tristan and Rhiannon’s heads whipped around and they held their daggers at the ready. Aidan spared a glance at the writhing sea before he dug his paddle in with greater intensity and force. The coracle shot past the disturbance, which slowly faded.
“Where did it go?” Gwen whispered.
Something rose out of the water on their right. Gwen screamed before she clapped a hand to her mouth, afraid of alerting trouble. Was it a tentacle? In the split-second that the object hung there, dripping, her brain registered the sight. No suckers, no slimy flesh—instead of a squid arm, hardened greenish scales covered a thick appendage that tapered to a point. Studded along its length were sharp spines the length of Gwen’s hand. The appendage—was it a tail?—emerged from the murky water without a known source.
Before she could take in much more than a cursory glance, the tail whipped toward their boat with incredible speed. It lightly touched the side of the coracle, but its long spines tore a sizeable hole above the water line. Rhiannon had no time to react before the tail slithered back into the stormy water, leaving no ripples on the surface.
“Breach on starboard,” Rhiannon called out. “That bag, Gwen—it has mending putty in it. Shove some in the hole, quick.”
Gwen lunged for the sack at the bottom of the coracle and ripped it open. Inside was a small mound of grayish putty that glowed faintly. Was it infused with magic? She tore off a chunk and smeared it over the rent in the hull. Instantly, the putty adhered to the hide and the water stopped its relentless flow.
“Be ready for the next attack!” Rhiannon shouted. “Keep paddling, Aidan.”
Aidan needed no reminder. His shoulders heaved with every stroke, faster and more powerful than before. Gwen shouted.
“Look out, Tristan!”
The tail whipped again and left another hole, this one at the water line. Tristan lunged after the tail, but only succeeded in slashing the water with his dagger. Rhiannon yanked at his shirt.
“Don’t fall in, idiot! We can’t save you in there.”
Gwen pressed more putty into the new hole. Water pooling at the bottom of the boat rocked from side to side. Gwen thought that Rhiannon’s movement had destabilized the coracle, until the whole vessel lifted in place. The animal hides below Gwen’s feet heaved and stretched from the outline of a broad back that pressed against the bottom of the coracle. Aidan shouted when his paddle left the water, and Tristan fell to the side of the boat. A spine rubbed against the hide and poked a hole through the skins. The damage done, the monster sank and left the coracle bobbing once more in the waves. A steady spurt of water fountained into the boat.
“Here!” Gwen tossed a piece of putty to Tristan. “Shove this in the hole. And keep paddling, Aidan!”
Gwen twisted to look behind her at t
he sound of rushing water. She screamed.
The monstrous head of a sea serpent rose from the waves. It looked prehistoric, with bony plates covering its face and two horny ridges lined with spines that ran down the length of its head and body. Huge, sunken black eyes, like those of a shark, focused on her—merciless, remorseless. The gaping mouth had far too many rows of teeth that curved inward, allowing no escape for its prey.
There was no time for defensive measures, even if Gwen had been capable of raising her dagger. The sharp teeth crunched down on the stern of the coracle, which splintered the wooden frame but miraculously did not break it. Just as quickly, the serpent released the boat and was gone, sunk back into the cold waters below their feet.
Gwen’s chest heaved. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs.
“Now what? Where is it coming from next?”
They didn’t have long to wait. A tail emerged from the depths and whipped the coracle again, faster than Rhiannon could react. It tore a gash in the hide, this time below the water line. Water poured in and Rhiannon stuffed the hole with putty from Gwen, her face white. Again, the tail lashed toward Tristan who whirled around to meet it, but to no avail. The tail disappeared and left a line of punctures in its wake.
“More putty, Gwen!” Rhiannon yelled, her calm demeanor evaporated.
“I don’t have much more!” Gwen reached out with the last of the putty and spread it quickly over the tear.
The water stopped streaming in, and Gwen was momentarily relieved until she realized why. The serpent’s back pressed into the coracle’s bottom and lifted the little boat high above sea level. Three spines broke through this time, and when the monster sank back into the waves, water poured in relentlessly.
Gwen dug through the satchel, desperate to find anything that would stopper the holes. She ripped apart a cloth that covered some of their bread, and knelt forward to block the fountains. Tristan yelled above her.
“Look out!”
She turned from her kneeling position at the bottom of the boat and saw the serpent’s head loom over her from the stern. It bit down on the coracle’s frame with a sickening crunch, then released its hold and withdrew. The splintered frame was reduced to a narrow fragment of its former self. The coracle creaked ominously.
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