“The boat won’t hold for long, not without a proper frame,” Rhiannon said. “We need to keep moving!”
Aidan’s muscles strained and his neck was taut, but he had no breath to answer Rhiannon.
The island was still so far away. Gwen looked at their rapidly decaying boat with horror. Water leaked in from the breeched hull that she had stuffed with rags, and their boots slopped around the growing pool at their feet. The broken frame was sunk low in the water, only a hands width above the roiling sea. They weren’t going to make it. The serpent was too fast for them. It was too unpredictable…
“Wait,” Gwen said. Her mind whirled and she scanned the water for the next attack. “It’s a pattern. The monster is attacking in the same way every time.” Tristan looked at her, confused. Gwen warmed to her idea. “Yes! That’s it. Rhiannon, it’s going to attack with its tail from your side next. Be ready with your dagger.”
Rhiannon looked incredulously at her brother, but Tristan only shrugged.
“I don’t have a better idea.”
Seconds after Rhiannon turned to the water, dagger at the ready, the dripping tail rose and lashed out toward the boat. Ready for it, Rhiannon let out a yell and sliced at the appendage. The tail halted in mid-whip, a long bloody gash clearly visible. It writhed in pain on the surface of the water before it jerked back to the depths.
“Okay, Tristan, be ready for the tail again, but this time on your side!” Gwen shouted. Tristan gripped his dagger in one hand and the edge of the boat in the other, ready to attack.
He didn’t wait for long. The tail rose once more, the gash dripping with blood and seawater, and lunged to pierce the boat. Tristan slashed at the tip and the tail writhed back into the water. The tapered end of the tail flew in an arc through the air and landed with a splash.
“Now what?” Rhiannon said. She looked to Gwen for instructions.
“Now it’s going to pick us up with its back,” she said. She felt calmer and more in control than she had for days. She knew what was coming. Tristan and Rhiannon were attacking the monster, and every stroke that Aidan paddled drew them closer to the island. Maybe this was possible after all.
“What do you think? Try stabbing it?” Tristan asked Rhiannon.
“We don’t need more holes in the boat.”
“Stab it through a hole that’s already there,” Gwen said. “Then we don’t make any new ones.”
The coracle shifted as the serpent rubbed against the bottom. Aidan yelled when his paddle left the water and he clung to the frame of the coracle. The monster’s back strained against the hide, but Tristan and Rhiannon were ready. With a concerted blow, they stabbed through the putty in pre-existing holes and forced their daggers deep into the serpent’s back before they swiftly drew them out again. The monster spasmed and dropped the coracle with a splash. Water poured in over the sides and through new holes in the hide.
They were fighting well, but they didn’t have much time before the valiant coracle gave way and sunk into the cold waters of the bay. Gwen yelled, “Okay, now its head will come from behind!”
“Stab the eyes!” Rhiannon shouted. Gwen scrambled toward the bow and Tristan and Rhiannon positioned themselves at the stern. As Gwen had predicted, the head soon rose from the water, its mouth opened wider than ever before. This time, the serpent would bite straight through the coracle, frame and hull and hide. This was the killing blow.
“Now!” Rhiannon screamed, and together the two lunged forward as far as they could reach. They aimed their daggers for the cold, black eyes of the serpent.
Their aim was true. Deep into the sockets the blades slid, in and out again with sharp accuracy, deep enough to penetrate the brain. The motion halted the serpent. It threw its head back in agony and thrashed back and forth. Its death-throes churned the water and plunged the beleaguered coracle into a chaotic wash. The twitching head jerked erratically, until it slowly sank into the water. It left only a few ripples that were soon swallowed by wind and wave.
The serpent was dead. Gwen could hardly believe it, but she didn’t have time to dwell on their victory.
“We need to plug the holes!” Rhiannon threw herself to the bottom of the coracle and pressed the rags firmly to the holes. Gwen ripped apart more of the cloth that covered their bread. Tristan followed behind them with his hand above the leaking plugs. His magic took the edges of the rags and sealed them to the coracle’s hide. At the bottom of the boat, putty and rags were under the water that sloshed between their knees.
Once they had plugged most of the holes, Gwen started to bail with her hands. Rhiannon moved to stabilize the coracle’s broken frame at the stern. Tristan took over the paddle from Aidan, who joined Gwen, his face red and arms shaking from his efforts. Gwen touched his shoulder and gave him a brief smile.
“We did it,” she said.
Aidan cupped water between trembling hands and threw it overboard.
“Yeah, that was clever, you figuring out the pattern. Nicely done. And some fine dagger work from the wonder team. Look, the water’s fairly low now. We’ll make it to the island after all.”
“Yeah.” Gwen finally let herself feel elation from their win. “Yeah, we will. Against the odds. That’s—kind of amazing, actually.” Her face cracked into a smile, and she hugged Aidan spontaneously. “We did it!”
“First obstacle down, unknown number to go,” Rhiannon said from behind her. When Gwen turned around, Rhiannon smiled faintly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spoil the moment. It was a good victory. How did you know where the serpent would attack?”
“It was following a pattern. I figured out the pattern, and then it was easy to predict.”
“Really?” Rhiannon looked mystified. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
Gwen raised an eyebrow at Aidan.
“Perhaps it’s a Breenan thing?” he said. “Not so good at creative thinking?”
Within minutes, the coracle scraped against the stony beach. Tristan leaped out first.
“Be careful,” Gwen said. “What if there’s another obstacle?”
Tristan stood still for a moment. Then his shoulders shrugged and he turned to them with a laugh.
“So far, so good. Come on, we won’t get this quest done by quivering in that moth-eaten old coracle.”
Gwen gingerly scrambled over the edge of the coracle, relieved to be on solid ground once more. Her knees were weak after the stress of the sea battle, and she stumbled twice before she regained her footing on the loose pebbles of the beach. The beach was short, walled in on both sides by cliffs that plunged deep into the water, and by a grove of trees parallel to the water’s edge. A path bisected the trees. It was clearly the only way forward.
Aidan helped Rhiannon drag the damaged coracle up the beach so the tide wouldn’t sweep it away, then he joined Gwen to consider their next move.
“I wonder where to next? So many options,” he said. She nudged his shoulder with her own and started toward the opening in the trees, in the wake of Tristan’s eager footsteps.
Tristan stopped at the treeline. A tree directly to the left of the path, a scraggly oak, stood out from the other trees. The rest were bare, but this tree was covered in a twisted ivy sporting vibrant orange and red leaves. Strands swayed in the stiffening breeze. Tristan narrowed his eyes in thought.
“The signpost has a message.”
“Signpost? Do you mean the vine?” Gwen wasn’t sure how Tristan knew to look for plant-writing in the vines. Was it obvious to him what was a message and what was just a plant?
“See here?” Tristan pointed at an intricate curl of vines, snaked together. “That’s the sign for Breenan, beside the sign for human. They’re above this,” he pointed at a burst of leaves in a fan-shape. “Which means connecting, working together. And this bare vine, twisted just so, is the sign for unselfishness, next to the leaves of peace.”
“Okay. But what does it all mean?”
“The message reads, ‘Those who come in peace,
with altruistic intent, will find what they need most. Friendship with their otherworld brethren will aid them on their quest.’”
“Well, that sounds good. Doesn’t it? We’re here for Bran and Isolde, and we’re all mates now,” Aidan said. “Cryptic as always, of course. I expected nothing less in the Otherworld.”
“Not super helpful, is it? I guess we press on. It didn’t say not to,” Gwen said. She glanced at Rhiannon, stoic as always, and at Tristan, who grinned.
“Let’s move. Our spell awaits us.”
The path was neatly laid with a covering of crushed seashells that glowed faintly under a dull and stormy sky. Ash trees loomed over the path in a tangled canopy. Light was dim in the ravine between the two steep cliffs. A bird twittered in the distance, unseen through thick branches. Leaves were colorful in the autumn coolness, but few had yet dropped. Wind from the approaching storm rustled dying foliage ominously.
The path curved and twisted, and they could see no farther than ten paces down the trail. Their way inclined gradually. After a few minutes of climbing, they rounded a bend where the monotony of the forest was broken.
“What’s that?” Gwen pointed to three flat stones, laid into the soil beside the path. The largest was wide enough to kneel on, and the other two, placed farther back from the trail, were smaller. Carved into their surfaces were the shapes of two handprints. Beyond the stones spread a tiny patch of low groundcover, its miniscule leaves a delicate, velvety green. A dangling clematis vine swirled around a single bloom, and Gwen guessed that there was a message in the swirls.
“The Garden of Love Made Visible,” Tristan said. He tilted his head in thought. “I wonder what that means.” He stepped forward and prodded the nearest stone with his foot. Gwen held her breath, but nothing happened.
“Perhaps it’s one of the queens’ inventions,” Rhiannon said. “This is Lady Maeve’s island, after all.”
“This place is probably littered with remarkable magic,” Tristan said. “Look, you can see signs all up the path. This one doesn’t sound too bad. Let’s give it a try.”
“Are you serious?” Gwen said, but Tristan already kneeled on the larger stone. He grinned up at her with a wink, and placed his hands on the prints.
Gwen couldn’t believe it. What if the spell were dangerous, or a trap? What would they do if he were hurt, or paralyzed, or one of a thousand things that could possibly go wrong? Aidan sucked in his breath beside her, but Rhiannon only sighed.
“Typical. This is why Father sends me with you—so someone competent can pull you out of trouble.”
Tristan didn’t answer, but instead stared intently at the patch of green. Gwen drew nearer, fascinated despite her misgivings. Where once there had been a monochrome carpet of green foliage, blooms now formed in a staggering array of colors. Miniature flowers opened out of nowhere, blues and reds and violets and golds, dazzling her eyes.
The colors were not random. A clear picture formed of a man and a woman. The man sat in a chair, smiling, and the woman walked behind him with a basket in her arms. When the man turned to speak silently to the woman, the flowers shrunk and bloomed to create a dynamic picture.
“That’s Father and Morna,” Rhiannon said. As soon as she said the words, the picture changed, and two young boys scuffled in the grass outside Declan’s cottage, their panting, happy faces silent in the flowers. Tristan smiled.
“And the twins, little scamps.” He leaned back and pulled his hands off the stones. Instantly, the multitude of petals closed and sunk out of sight. Only the woolly green leaves remained. “Well, that was a tidy little spell. Showing us those we care about, what they’re doing right now.” He got up and dusted off his hands. “Give it a go, Rhiannon. See who else we can see.”
Rhiannon didn’t need further encouragement and knelt in position. The flowers bloomed once again and showed a closer vision of the same smiling Declan, but cut away swiftly to a burly young man with yellow hair, cutting wood. When this vision emerged, Rhiannon jerked her hands away from the stones as if they burned, her face red. Tristan laughed.
“Still in love with Angus, are we? I don’t know why you hide it. He’s a bit dim, sure, but you could do worse.”
Rhiannon stood up and flicked her fingers at Tristan. He hopped around and swatted at his trousers until a mouse fell out of the leg.
“So sensitive, sister.” He winked at Gwen. “Do you think Gwen will be as shy when I appear in her vision?”
Gwen laughed at the absurdity of his comment, but Aidan looked confused and annoyed, although he tried to hide it. Rhiannon huffed.
“You’re so vain,” she said to Tristan, and then turned to Aidan. “Your turn.” She tried to appear unruffled, but her cheeks were still pink. “See if it works for humans, too.”
Aidan glanced at Gwen, and she nodded back. There didn’t seem to be any harm in it. Both Tristan and Rhiannon had come through unscathed, except for a mouse bite or two. Aidan knelt down on the stone and carefully placed his hands on the prints.
The flowers bloomed, but instead of a face, a multicolored swirl twisted in front of Aidan. After a few seconds, it settled into a picture of a woman, although the image was jumpy and not as clear as the previous ones. Gwen recognized Aidan’s mother, Deirdre. She stood against a kitchen sink and looked at a refrigerator. She was safe and whole, but sadness was etched on her face. On the fridge was a picture of Aidan.
Gwen’s lips tightened, but before she could say anything comforting the image changed to a sharp representation of herself in the forest looking worried. Aidan sat back on his heels and Tristan laughed.
“We don’t need to see Gwen. She’s right here. You think the queens could have fixed that.”
“Why was it so unclear when we saw that woman?” Rhiannon said.
“She was in the human world,” Aidan said. “Perhaps it takes a greater magical effort to see there.”
Aidan stood up with a solemn expression. Gwen brushed her hand against his in an attempt to comfort, and took his place on the rock. She drew in a deep breath and gingerly rested her hands on the stones, one finger at a time. The rock was still cool, despite Aidan’s hands before hers. She gazed at the groundcover and wondered what she would see.
She didn’t wait for long. The flowers swirled as they had for Aidan, in an attempt to penetrate the veil between worlds. They settled into an image of her father in his studio. He dabbed paint onto an easel with a contented smile on his face. Gwen’s heart leaped, but she barely had time to register the image before the picture changed to one of Ellie in a dance studio, followed by an image of Aidan standing behind her. She almost pulled her hands away then, but the picture changed once again. This time the flowers showed a dark room. Gwen peered closer with curiosity. Who would the flowers show her now?
The image zoomed in on a figure seated on a carved wooden chair. Gwen gasped. Isolde appeared in the flowers with her head hanging and her hair limp. Her face was painted by the palest white flowers, and the blossoms of her hands trembled as if they swayed in a breeze. Behind the chair, a large hole in the crumbling castle walls revealed fires burning in the distance, and smoke drifted through the gap in the stonework.
Gwen drew her hands back. Isolde looked so ill—was Gwen too late?
“Those fires didn’t look good,” Tristan said. “Looks like the other realms are attacking already.”
Gwen glanced at Bran’s ring, her thumb visible through the ghostly circle. Aidan’s hand touched Gwen’s shoulder gently, and she let herself lean into its solid comfort for a moment before she stood.
“We need to get moving,” she said. “We’re running out of time.”
Chapter 12
They trudged up the path again, Tristan and Rhiannon in single file. The sun overhead filtered through a canopy of autumn leaves. Gwen brought up the rear with Aidan beside her.
“Are you all right?” he asked quietly.
“Did you see her? I don’t think she’s long for this world.” She pa
used, and Isolde’s white face swam before her eyes, backlit by raging fires in the forest. “I don’t know why I should bust my gut to help her—she’s not exactly a model citizen. But then I think of those orphaned children—”
“And your bracelet.”
“And Bran. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe Isolde is cruel and uncaring, but I still can’t sit back and watch her die.”
“Because you’re a better person than her.”
“I hope so. Although it wouldn’t take much.” Gwen looked at the path ahead. “How much farther do we have to hike up? I didn’t think the island was this high.”
A few minutes later, Tristan called back.
“There’s a sign over here.”
Gwen sped up and joined the others at a small clearing on a plateau. She leaped back as the sight before her eyes registered.
“Whoa!”
They stood, precariously perched, on the edge of a cliff. It plunged sheer and precipitous into icy ocean water, which slurped and crashed at a great distance below. Another cliff rose directly ahead of them. A fringe of trees crowned crumbling sandstone level with their own vantage point. Winds whistled menacingly through the gap and lifted Gwen’s hair. Isle Caengal was not one island, but two. A channel of water split the land in half, invisible from the shore. Tristan laughed.
“Careful. It’s a long fall to a cold swim.” He pointed to a tree on his left, which Gwen hadn’t noticed in her preoccupation with the cliff’s edge. “There’s the sign. But I think it’s only half a message. It doesn’t make sense otherwise.”
The tree was an oak, stunted and gnarled but obviously ancient. It clung to the cliff’s edge, and Gwen wondered how it could possibly still be standing. A flowering vine draped from one twisted limb. The vine was not alone, however. Bound by a swollen and knotted rope, a wooden sign swung beside the vine. Burned into the weathered wood were words.
Over the void, to find
Breenan Series Box Set Page 39