The Lost Tide Warriors

by Catherine Doyle

  When he reached the edge of Hughie Rua’s Cove, Fionn blew his candle out and stuck the last of it in his pocket. The rain sputtered to a stop, the clouds blown over the horizon in a single gust. The tide crawled back out to sea until the strand emerged in a brassy crescent.

  There, just below him, his four fellow adventurers stood side by side.

  ‘Fionn!’ Shelby waved her arms back and forth. ‘You made it!’

  ‘You were ages,’ yelled Tara. ‘Hurry up!’

  Fionn’s head was still full of his grandmother’s laugh, his heart still full of missing her. Of never truly knowing her. But there was a task at hand, and they were late already. He waved back at his friends, before slipping down the rocks on his hands and knees.

  When he reached the bottom of the cove, they faced the tide together. Shelby drew an imaginary line from the sand to the three black rocks, tracing the search area with her finger, while Tara hovered beside her, flicking her bottom lip. ‘With the tide this low, we should be able to push it all the way back to Black Point Rock. You’ll have to be quick though.’ She glanced at Fionn. ‘Do you think you’ll feel it when you’re near?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Fionn uneasily. ‘Seeing as the entire plan hinges on it.’

  ‘We’ll find it,’ said Shelby, smiling confidently. ‘Just make sure we don’t drown out there.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Sam, flexing his fingers. ‘I always excel at things on the first try.’

  ‘Really?’ said Shelby.

  Sam nodded. ‘I was the youngest ever member of the London Symphony Orchestra.’

  Bartley turned on him. ‘What age were you?’ he asked accusingly.

  ‘Minus three months,’ said Sam proudly. ‘My mum was pregnant with me at the time.’

  Bartley rolled his eyes. ‘That obviously doesn’t count.’

  ‘Jealous,’ muttered Sam.

  ‘A little focus, please.’ Tara flung the schoolbag from her back and dumped the candles out on to the beach. They got on to their knees and pulled the anchors out, ripping the silver discs from the bottom of the candles so that the wicks unfurled from the opposite end.

  Shelby grabbed the lifejackets from where they had left them on the rocks yesterday and handed one to Fionn. ‘Probably a good idea,’ she said, slipping it over her head. ‘Not that I don’t trust our siblings.’

  After a brief tutorial, where Sam did, in fact, excel with the Storm Keeper’s magic, Tara positioned the three of them at the edge of the ocean, where they each lit their candles at the same time. Sam laughed giddily as the magic slammed into him, Tara lifted her chin to the sky, and Bartley went rigid as a rod.

  They held their arms out, palms up, like the first step in a choreographed dance. There was no sign of outward effort, save for the vein pulsing on Bartley’s forehead and the muscle straining in Sam’s jaw. The shoreline rolled backwards. It looked just as if the tide was going out, the waves receding inch by inch, then foot by foot.

  ‘Cool,’ whispered Shelby.

  Fionn tried to ignore the familiar prickles of jealousy. Shelby was right; it was cool, even if he wasn’t the one doing it. Even if he should be the one doing it. Hughie Rua would have ripped the sea up like a carpet, without breaking a sweat. Maggie Patton would have rolled it back on itself like a Fruit Winder. Dagda would have split the entire ocean in two.

  Shelby took him by the arm. ‘Ready?’

  The ocean floor appeared before them – cockle shells and clumps of seaweed, scuttling crabs and fish flapping helplessly along the strand. Fionn picked one up by its tail and flung it into the sea. ‘Ready,’ he said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE EMPTY TOMB

  Fionn and Shelby stepped over the old waterline, and the smell slammed into them. It was like opening an old can of tuna and drowning in that first, pungent whiff. Slowly, cautiously, they dropped their hands from their noses and wiped the tears from their eyes. The sea rolled backwards and they walked on, emboldened.

  The wind deserted them, but there was a stubborn chill in the air. It was even colder in the gullet of the ocean, without the water to blanket it. Shelby bent down to unearth an oyster from the seabed. She brushed her thumb against its ridges, before laying it back down, lovingly. On either side of the cove, frothy waves peered over as though looking to see what they were doing. ‘Feel anything yet?’ she asked him.

  Fionn closed his eyes and rubbed circles over his chest. There was a kernel glowing there, an invisible thread tugging him further into the ocean. ‘Yeah,’ he said, pointing towards the sea stacks. ‘I think it’s over there somewhere.’

  Black Point Rock was still a distance away but an old shipwreck was emerging just up ahead. The tide retreated, revealing the skeleton of a rotting hull.

  ‘That’s not one of Ivan’s, is it?’ said Fionn, slowing to examine it.

  Shelby shook her head. ‘It’s way too close to the strand. I bet it’s one of the Spanish Armada.’

  They circled the wreck. Shards stuck out of the sand like signposts, the wood soft and chewy where the ocean had been licking at it. ‘What were the Spanish doing here?’ asked Fionn.

  ‘They were sailing to England to overthrow the Queen back in, like, the sixteenth century. But it didn’t go well, so they came around the top of Ireland and ran aground on the rocks.’ Shelby chewed on her bottom lip. ‘Bad weather. A storm, I think.’

  It was always a storm.

  ‘It might be La Juliana,’ said Shelby. ‘Admiral Fernando Aguero jumped right off his sinking ship and swam to shore, and all the local girls here threw themselves at his feet because he was so handsome. He didn’t speak a lick of English and none of them spoke Spanish, but he fell in love with an islander and stayed anyway. That’s what Mia Aguero told me. Her sister was named after his ship.’

  ‘Oh, to be named after a sunken ship,’ said Fionn wistfully.

  Shelby smiled. ‘Cool origin.’

  ‘Almost as cool as ours,’ said Fionn.

  ‘Yours, you mean,’ said Shelby, wandering away from the wreck. ‘We should keep moving.’

  The seabed dipped, leading them down a slope pocked with rusty cannonballs. Fionn glanced over his shoulder every so often, watching for the others on the shoreline. They were still standing with their palms outstretched. Still within shouting distance. The kernel in his chest was getting warmer, the unseen thread growing taut. ‘I think we’re getting close.’

  The ocean crept back, back, back, until it loosened the three black rocks from its watery grip. They loomed over them like skyscrapers. A strange sense of unease came upon Fionn as they drifted closer. The heat inside him dimmed and, in its place, nausea bloomed. ‘Ugh,’ he said, clutching his stomach.

  Beside him, Shelby was doing the same. ‘I feel a little bit sick.’

  ‘We’ve used nearly half the candles!’ came Tara’s voice from far away. ‘Hurry up! Sam’s starting to flag!’

  Neither Fionn nor Shelby turned around. The sand was vibrating underneath them as though, deep underground, an earthquake was beginning. They stepped over the ripples, and stopped at the first rock. Without meaning to, Fionn placed his palm against it. Pain exploded in his head, as sharp and sudden as a thunderbolt. It shot down his arms and spasmed in his chest, until it felt like he was being split in half.

  There was a terrible, earth-shattering scream. It took Fionn a moment to realise it was his own. Another moment to realise he was on his knees.

  ‘Fionn!’ Shelby hoisted him up by his elbow. ‘Get away from it!’

  Fionn staggered backwards, blinking at the rock. There was a shadow moving inside it, like an eel underwater. ‘Do you see that?’

  ‘I see it,’ said Shelby, her fingers tightening around his arm.

  The shadow leapt towards them, pressing its face against the inside of the rock. Shelby screamed. Fionn stumbled away from it, pulling her with him. ‘D-d-don’t look.’

  ‘What is that?’ said Shelby breathlessly.

  They
could still see the wide, hulking figure beating its fists against the rock. Fionn could taste dark magic in the air. He had felt it once before – deep in the belly of the ancient Sea Cave.

  ‘I think it’s some kind of tomb,’ whispered Fionn.

  They crept towards the second shard, close enough to see another figure moving in the rock. This one was smaller and narrower than the first. It kept its fists to itself too – silent as a ghost, but quick as an adder as it flitted in and out of the shadows.

  Shelby groaned. ‘They’re making me dizzy.’

  They edged towards the last shard. The strange darkness filtered away, the air clearing until they could breathe properly again. They released their stomachs and filled their lungs. Fionn could feel the kernel glowing in his chest again, sensed the pull of the Tide Summoner somewhere close by.

  ‘This one isn’t so bad,’ said Shelby, creeping closer.

  Fionn pointed at the far side of the rock, where a gaping hole traced the length of the shard. ‘That’s because it’s empty.’

  He drifted towards the entrance.

  ‘Fionn! Get back!’

  ‘I want to look inside.’

  ‘We’re supposed to be looking for the shell!’ said Shelby, marching after him.

  ‘It might be in here,’ he lied. The heat inside him dimmed as he moved away from the Tide Summoner, towards the lingering darkness. With his feet planted firmly on the seabed and his hands on either side of the onyx rock, Fionn stuck his head inside the hole. It was deadly silent and almost black, save for the hundreds of amber gemstones set into the rock. They cast an eerie luminescence about the tomb. ‘Hello?’ he called into the emptiness.

  Hello-hello-hello, the emptiness called back.

  There was a lone kra-aaa from somewhere in the darkness.

  The walls blinked.

  Amber to black, and then back to amber.

  Fionn heard the sudden thwack of wings and stumbled backwards, falling over Shelby in his haste to escape. The rock shuddered as it spat out its ravens. They poured over Fionn in an onslaught of shrieking feathers, pecking and kraaa-ing as they deserted their tomb and launched themselves across the exposed seabed. Shelby covered her head and screamed, the sound only dying in her throat when the final raven had soared over them.

  They scrabbled to their feet, Fionn saying ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry’ as they retreated from the rock. Shelby gathered herself up and wiped the tears from her eyes. With her bottom lip still trembling, she pointed ahead of them, to where the ocean had been tugged away. ‘Fionn. Look!’

  Fionn turned to face the shipwreck of The Evorsio, and felt a sharp pull in the centre of his chest. The Tide Summoner was here. And it was calling to him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  THE SPINNING WHEEL

  The Evorsio rested on the seabed like a tilted crown.

  ‘Hurry up!’ yelled Tara, from far, far away. She had stopped pushing the sea out. Their strip of seabed was growing narrower as the tide tightened its belt around them.

  Fionn pressed a hand to his chest. Then, with their backs to the three black rocks, they hurried towards the shipwreck.

  The shipwreck was more pristine than Fionn had been expecting – particularly compared to La Juliana. The body of it was barely submerged in the seabed, its hull tilted where broken masts had tipped it over. There were cannons strewn all around them, their slender bodies sticking out like street bollards. There were tattered black rags where billowing sails had once been. But the dark wood railings and intricate rig had been untouched by the ocean’s curious mouths. The anchor was barely brushed with rust, its hefty tail wedged deep in the sand.

  ‘Can you give me a boost?’ said Shelby. ‘We need to go up on deck.’

  Fionn hoisted her on to his hands and then his shoulders as she pulled herself over the ship railings. He climbed on the head of the anchor and dragged himself up after her, his fingers closing around hers as she heaved him over the lip of the stern. A new smell nearly knocked him sideways. It was rotting fish and burnt wood, ash and fire and metal. And something else. Something Fionn had never smelled before.

  ‘Oh,’ said Shelby. ‘It’s a graveyard.’

  The smell was death. And it was everywhere.

  Fionn crunched a bone under the heel of his foot, swallowing his gasp before it sprang free. A skull stared up at him – the hollow remains of a merrow-chewed Soulstalker. They moved along quickly, picking their way over old bones and sunken wood, searching for the shell.

  The sea inched closer. Tara’s warnings rang out from the strand, where Sam was sitting down with his head tucked between his legs. It was just her and Bartley holding the tide now.

  ‘Look,’ said Shelby, ducking under a broken mast and pointing towards the bow, where the ship’s prow pierced the ocean’s veil. They could see fish swimming around inside it – huge fins and curved bodies, their sleek scales glinting at them through the water.

  The ship’s wheel was spinning. A shiver of wind had followed them inside The Evorsio and was playing captain at the head of the vessel.

  The wheel was knocking against something at its base.

  It was a shell. It was covered in barnacles, laced with krill and coral, and stuffed with seaweed, but there was no mistaking the pearly exterior, or the gleaming gold rims.

  They nearly tripped over themselves with the sudden burst of excitement, barely noticing the spray of saltwater on their cheeks as they thundered across the deck. Fionn’s magic was in his throat, trying to scream. Trying to call out to the Tide Summoner.

  Far away, Tara was screaming too.

  Fionn tripped over a pile of bones and went down hard on his side, slamming into the deck with a painful ‘Ooof!’

  Shelby vaulted over him, making a beeline for the shell. ‘It’s OK. I got it!’

  Fionn staggered to his feet just as Shelby yanked it free. All around her, the ocean shook, like a giant block of blue jelly.

  ‘Fionn!’ She spun around, the shell glowing in her hand. The light encircled her fingers, and then her wrist, and then her arm, travelling all the way up her body like an electric current until her face was glowing too. She looked at him with wide eyes. ‘W-what’s happening?’

  Fionn stared at the shimmering shell. At her shimmering face. ‘Do you feel OK?’

  Shelby swallowed. ‘I …’

  Tara screamed.

  The sea hiccoughed.

  ‘Shelby, run!’ shouted Fionn as it rained down on them.

  Shelby shoved the shell in her lifejacket, and together they sprinted back across the deck, over ancient bones and gaping skulls, matching each other stride for stride. They flung themselves off the ship’s railing and tumbled on to the seabed. The ocean poured over The Evorsio, gulping it back into its belly. It nipped at Fionn’s heels as he leapt to his feet, his hand reaching for Shelby’s as they bolted through the narrowing seabed, setting a course for the strand.

  The ocean roared after them. The sea climbed up the black rocks and engulfed the Spanish shipwreck as they raced past it. Back on the beach, Bartley was on his knees.

  Tara was the last one standing.

  She was swaying on her feet.

  The tide rushed in on either side of them, the pathway to shore no wider than the hallway at Tír na nÓg. Fionn slid behind Shelby, as the sea licked their elbows.

  ‘We won’t make it,’ Shelby panted. ‘We’re too far.’

  Tara collapsed on the beach.

  ‘Hold your breath!’ yelled Fionn.

  The sea careened over them, slammed their heads into the sand, and sluiced their legs out from under them. Fionn was lost in a cloud of froth and bubbles, his arms and legs flailing helplessly as the ocean buried him in an endless waterfall. He inhaled a lungful of saltwater and felt his chest closing. The lifejacket pulled him up, up, up – until his head crested the surface. He threw his face back to the sky and vomited, gasping at the frigid air.

  He spun in the water. ‘Shelby!’

  He couldn
’t see her. Couldn’t hear her. There was only the sound of his own panicked screams and the rattle of his cough in his ears. ‘Shelby!’

  His insides grew white-hot, his magic flaring in every inch of him until he felt like he might explode from the heat of it.

  The sea began to bubble.

  ‘Shelby!’ he yelled. ‘Shelby!’

  Another mouthful of water poured out of him.

  He hiccoughed.

  The waves hiccoughed.

  Shelby was thrown up from the sea.

  She broke the surface in a tangle of hair and limbs, retching lungfuls of seawater as her lifejacket suspended her. There was a gash along her forehead and a trail of blood covering one side of her face. ‘I hit a rock,’ she cried. ‘I got stuck!’

  Her head began to loll, the blood dripping down her neck and soaking into her lifejacket. The Tide Summoner sat snug against her chest.

  Fionn swam towards her. ‘Hang on! I’m coming!’

  ‘I’m so sleepy, Fionn.’

  ‘Stay awake, Shelby!’ He pulled her into his chest and used his free hand to paddle them back to shore. It seemed impossibly far away. His sister was a blot on the sand, the others curled up on their sides beside her. ‘Keep talking to me.’

  ‘Too … tired.’

  ‘Tell me about the meerkats,’ he said, as the water lapped against his chin. ‘How did you get into the enclosure?’

  Shelby smiled, her head collapsing against his shoulder. ‘Meerkats,’ she murmured. ‘Little tiny meerkats.’

  Come on, come on, come on.

  He kicked his legs, groaning from the effort.

  Please.

  The wind picked up. The waves quietened as they moved through them. Fionn hoped she would be OK – that she would forgive him for wasting time in that stupid rock, for tripping over himself on the way to that shell. For dragging her with him in the first place.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they were rolled out on to the sand. Shelby collapsed on top of him.