by Lexi Rees
Dad laughs. ‘There I was thinking you’d forgotten. Here, go and see if they have any.’ He passes us a few coins and smiles. ‘But stay close to the boat. And don’t go into the bazaar. I’m going to get the parcel.’
With that, he strides off into the grand bazaar. His white hair glows like a beacon in the sea of dark-haired heads, until it’s finally swallowed up by the crowds.
A few minutes later we’re sitting on the harbour wall, our feet dangling above the water, honey ice half-eaten and melting fast.
A group of local kids gathers around us, babbling happily in a language I don’t understand. A few of the braver kids practise their English, the unfamiliar sounds getting tangled in their mouths. ‘Where you are from?’, ‘What your name is?’, ‘How many years have you?’ The usual questions. ‘My brother bigger than you.’ The usual taunts.
‘I bet I’m stronger than him,’ I say to the kid with the big brother. Aria jabs me hard in the ribs with her elbow.
‘He biggest boy in town.’
‘Can he swim?’ I ask. Aria glares at me and kicks me on the shin.
‘He best swimmer in world,’ says the kid, his chest jutting forward. ‘I get him. He prove.’ He skips off into the crowd.
‘Don’t do this,’ Aria hisses. ‘You’ll get us in trouble again.’
The kid reappears, a youth strutting beside him.
‘Hey,’ I say.
‘Hey,’ says the youth, crossing his arms.
‘Swim! Swim! Swim!’ the kid cries, bouncing up and down with excitement. The other kids pick up the chant and join in.
I slurp the last of my honey ice, lick my fingers, and slide off the harbour wall into the water.
The youth kicks off his sandals and dives in after me.
I challenge him, ‘How long can you hold your breath for?’
‘Longer than you, I bet,’ he says, clamping his nose shut and sinking into the sea.
After a few minutes, he claws his way back to the surface, gulping the air hungrily. I bob up a few seconds later and pretend to pant a few times so it looks convincing. ‘Good effort,’ I say.
The boy hauls himself out of the water and ambles back to his mates. The gang drifts away, laughing and shoving each other playfully.
There’s still no sign of Dad. I scuff my feet on the ground and stoop to pick up a smooth flat stone. I skim it over the water, counting seven bounces before it sinks.
‘I’m bored,’ I moan. ‘Let’s explore.’
‘We can’t. We promised Dad we’d stay close to the boat. It’s too dangerous here,’ Aria says. But it’s too late. She’s talking to the back of my head. I’ve ducked into the bazaar.
THREE
Lost
I pluck a ripe fruit from a nearby stall and drop a silver coin into the honesty jar. I casually toss the fruit in the air and catch it a few times before taking a huge bite.
Aria catches up with me.
We wander around the market stalls. The casual buzz of daily life cocoons us, drawing us in. Soon the rabbit warren of twisting alleys swallows us and we’re quickly out of sight of the boat. Deeper and deeper into the maze we go. The stalls get closer together, until there’s virtually no natural light. The cheerful chatter dies, replaced with a leaden echo. I slow down. Aria clutches my arm tightly. Ahead, a dead end looms.
Aria starts to turn and retrace our steps but, right at the furthest point, I spy a stall selling the weirdest collection of objects I’ve ever seen: walrus teeth with intricate ink sketches on them, pebbles covered in an ancient script that I can’t read, knotted string and feather dream-catchers, bronze amulets. I drag the reluctant Aria towards it.
The stall-keeper glares at me. His piercing blue eyes seem to slice though my skull and into my thoughts. I try to hold his stare, but it’s too intense. I wither before him, shrinking into insignificance.
‘You should not be here,’ he growls, his voice dark and menacing. ‘It is not safe.’
I pluck up the courage to ask him a question, ‘Do you have a pirrfu sea-charm, please, in dime gold?’ My voice comes out strangely high pitched and squeaky. ‘I’ve been looking for one to add to my collection for ages and this seems just the kind of stall to sell them.’
‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t sell it to you,’ he snaps. I knew customer service wasn’t going to be his strong point. ‘You don’t know how to use it. You have neither the talent nor the training.’
What? Why would I need talent or training? It’s just a trinket for my collection. It’s not as if it could be a magical pirrfu charm. They don’t exist. They’re just stories. Surely, he doesn’t think his charms are real? Mad old man. Of course, I don’t say that. Instead I mumble, ‘Errrr … I’ll find a teacher.’
‘What teacher would want you,’ he snorts.
I shuffle my feet uncomfortably.
He rubs his nose. ‘Yet, I sense it calls to you.’ He rummages below the counter, grunting and grumbling. He stands up and glowers at me, then uncurls a gnarled hand to reveal the most beautiful charm I’ve ever seen. Spiralling, like an ammonite shell, the design flows into a wave shape. Even in the weak light of the market, the dime gold glows subtly, a stark contrast to the filthy stall.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, my fingers itching to stroke it. ‘Is that pure dime gold? It can’t be …’ My voice trails off.
He snatches it away. ‘It’s 723 crowns. If you are ready.’
I convert that into pounds. ‘That’s outrageous. My other charms cost only a fraction of that.’
The stall-keeper shrugs and stashes the charm back under the counter.
‘Wait,’ I cry. ‘Maybe …’
Dad emerges from the shadows, ‘What are you two doing here?’ he snaps. ‘I told you to stay near the boat. It’s not safe here.’
That’s the second time in two minutes someone has said it’s not safe here. Suddenly, I long to be back at the waterfront, standing in the daylight, feeling a gentle breeze, breathing the salty air. Not here in the depths of this sweltering, sticky bazaar, bombarded by pungent aromas and clamouring noise.
While Dad’s not looking, I slide all my savings into the stall-keeper’s hand. There’s no time to haggle.
He presses the charm into my palm and wraps my fingers around it. He mumbles a few words, a curse or a protective charm. It’s too late to worry though. Whatever they were, once spoken, they cannot be unspoken.
‘This pirrfu charm is the mark of a Sea-Tamer,’ he says aloud. ‘Danger will follow you. The teacher you need is at the Castle. They will decide if you are ready. It is not my path. Another must guide you.’
Before I can ask what he means, Dad ushers us away from the curious stall and marches through the maze. I glance back but it has faded into the darkness, as if it never existed.
Dad navigates the maze of stalls with confidence. I get the distinct feeling he knows the way. Clearly this is not his first visit to Izmarli. I clutch the charm tightly in my palm. It pulses, beating like a heart, softly at first, but then harder and faster. I open my hand and stare at it. The pulsing stops. Did I imagine it?
As the stalls thin out and the sunlight reappears, I start to relax. I brush off the fear I felt in the dark alleys at the heart of the bazaar, but the grim warning from the stall-keeper sends a shiver down my spine.
I look at Dad; his hands are empty. ‘Did you get the parcel? I ask, my eyes scanning his pockets for unusual lumps and bumps.
‘Not exactly. I met them but they didn’t have it with them. We have to pick it up inland.’
‘Oh. That’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Why didn’t they bring it to the port like normal?’ Everything about this delivery seems to be unusual.
‘Well, apparently, they haven’t actually got it,’ Dad starts.
‘What? Have we wasted our time coming here?’
‘No. I
don’t think so. They claim to know where it is,’ he continues. ‘They’ve given me a map, but they want me to find it. They want us to find it …’ He pauses, his eyes flick towards me. ‘Actually Finn, they want you to find it.’
‘Me?’ I stop dead in my tracks.
Dad doesn’t break stride. Aria jogs to keep up with him. She tugs at his sleeve and, with a conspiratorial look, he leans over and whispers a few words in her ear. Aria gives the tiniest of nods.
I run to catch up. ‘What is it? What were you two talking about then?’
‘Nothing,’ they chime as we emerge from the bazaar onto the quay right beside our boat.
‘But …’ I hop onto the boat after them.
‘Finn, not now.’
‘But, Dad …’ He glares at me, his face stony. I might as well talk to a brick wall.
Back on the boat, we settle around the saloon table. Dad produces a piece of paper from his pocket. He flattens it out in front of us. ‘This is the map they gave me. It shows where we have to go to pick up the parcel.’
We study the route, following the marked track inland to the mountain.
Dad points out of the porthole at the mountain soaring from the centre of the island. ‘It’s up there,’ he says. ‘We need to get to the bottom of that waterfall.’
Aria and I look where he’s pointing and try to trace a path up the steep mountainside.
‘All the way up there?’ I say in horror.
The waterfall pours from a gap high in the mountainside. It lands on a plateau about half way down the barren cliff creating an oasis. From there, the river cuts a deep gully before disappearing into the jungle.
While we’re still staring out of the porthole at the mountain, Dad gasps. I spin round to see what happened. He quickly folds up the map and, without warning, dashes up onto the deck, jumps ashore, and marches back into the bazaar.
‘What happened there? Let’s go after him,’ I say, ready to follow him.
‘No,’ Aria says firmly. ‘I think we’d better stay here and wait for him. He wasn’t very happy when he found us in the middle of the bazaar earlier.’
I lean back, put my feet up on the table, and spin the pirrfu charm round and round between my fingers restlessly.
Several hours pass before Dad comes back to the boat, looking bleak. Without a word, he disappears into his cabin.
I follow him.
‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ I ask.
‘I tried to find the customer, I wanted to ask them about …’ he says, his forehead creased with worry.
‘Ask them about what? Is everything OK?’
‘I just wanted to ask them a question.’
‘And? What did they say?’
‘I couldn’t find them. They’d vanished. The place we met was deserted, as if they’d never been there. Nobody had seen them leave, or knew where they’d gone.’
‘Oh. So what was the question you needed to ask them so badly?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You can tell me, Dad. I’m old enough. It’s clearly not nothing. You wouldn’t have rushed off like that for nothing. You saw something on the map, didn’t you? What was it? You can trust me, please.’
‘I’m not sure. It just surprised me … OK. Maybe you should know,’ he says, digging the map out of his pocket. He points at a small scribble in the corner. It’s a signature. I pull the paper towards me and read it …
Morgan.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask.
FOUR
Gone
‘It’s a long story,’ he says, taking a deep breath, ‘but first, it’s time I told you something.’
He stops and puts a shaky hand on my shoulder. ‘You’d better sit down,’ he says.
‘OK,’ I say, a wave of nerves washing over me. Why is he being all strange?
‘This is not easy to say. Before I start, you must know that I love you with all my heart.’
Beads of sweat form on his forehead, even though the evening is cool.
‘Isolda and I knew this time would come, that one day you would need to know the truth. But I always thought she would be here to tell you the story …’
‘Just tell me, Dad. It’s OK.’
‘Finn, there’s no easy way to say this. I don’t know where to start.’
He stops, wipes his brow and takes a deep breath.
‘It’s about you, your birth. Your mother and I are not your birth parents. When you were born, it wasn’t possible for you to stay with them, so Isolda and I offered to look after you. We were so happy to have you join our family. We’ve tried to tell you many times, but we just didn’t know how.’
I’m adopted. How could I not have known? My hand flies up to my mouth, I’m confused. I break out in a cold sweat, and my heart beats so fast I think it’s going to burst. I take a deep breath and count to ten. It doesn’t help. A million questions zoom round my head, making me feel dizzy, and I fire them at Dad.
‘Who are my birth parents? Are they alive?’
‘They’re alive. They’re called Kallan and Morgan.’
‘What are they like?’
‘They were great friends of ours. Always fun to be with. Talented and clever too.’
‘Do I look like them?’ I’d always been aware I looked different with my tousled mop of dark brown curly hair and deeply tanned skin, but never really given it any thought.
‘Yes. The older you get, the more you look like Kallan.’
‘Aria’s not adopted, is she?’
‘No, she’s your step-sister.’
‘That makes sense,’ I say. ‘When did you last see Kallan and Morgan? Where are they now?’
‘I’m sorry, I haven’t seen them in years, I don’t even know where they are. It was difficult to keep in touch.’
I sink into silence, trying to make sense of all this.
‘You said I couldn’t stay with them. Why couldn’t I stay with them?’ The words stick in my throat.
‘Kallan and Morgan had no choice. They didn’t want to give you up, but it was too dangerous for you to stay with them. This was the only way they could protect you. After you’d gone, they struggled with the loss. They were both very sad. Kallan buried himself in his work, but Morgan never really recovered.’
‘But why would they agree to give me up if it hurt them both so badly?’
‘They were forced to.’
‘By whom?’
‘The clan elders. Neither of them were OK about it. It hurt them both, but Kallan understood the clan perspective better. Morgan didn’t. She begged them to find another way, but there wasn’t any option. She argued with them, but your safety was the priority for the clan. Afterwards, she blamed the elders for forcing her to give you away, even though she knew it was the only way to keep you safe.’
‘Safe from what though?’ I can barely breathe.
‘You know the legends about the old clan magic?’
‘Yes, Mum used to tell us about them. Magic from the earth, fire, air and water. But they were just myths.’
‘Not myths, no. Once there was magic everywhere. Now, it’s virtually gone. Very occasionally, a child is born with the clan magic in their blood.’
‘And I’m one of those children,’ I interrupt, suddenly grasping who I am. ‘That’s why I can talk to the sea creatures, and why I can stay under water for so long.’
‘Exactly. You’re one of those children. You’re a Sea-Tamer. When you’re older, I reckon you’ll be a powerful one. I know you can feel some of your powers already, but you haven’t even begun to realise how much you can do.’
‘Are there others like me? Blood-magic children?’
‘Yes. There are several others hidden around the world. They’re all younger than you though, and still waiting for their full powers to come through. Ar …’ He stops and
frowns. The word hangs unfinished.
‘How many of us are there?’
‘One from each clan. Legend says that, together, you have the power to restore magic to the world. But if Sir Waldred finds you, he’ll kill you. That’s why Kallan and Morgan had to hide you.’
‘Sir Waldred?’ The name makes me shudder. Every child has heard tales about the ruthless Earth Lord. Life is usually easier, and longer, if he doesn’t hear tales about you though.
‘He’s murdered other blood-magic children before you. The ones the elders failed to protect. You’re the first to live long enough to get your full powers.’
‘He murdered them? Why would he do that? To stop the prophecy coming true? To stop magic being returned to the world? Surely having magic back would be a good thing?’
‘Not for him it wouldn’t. If magic returns, Sir Waldred will no longer be the most powerful Lord in the world. He’ll do anything to prevent magic being restored. Murder is nothing.’
The choice my birth parents made makes sense. I now understand why they had to give me away to keep me safe.
‘What about the other blood-magic children?’ I ask.
‘The elders hope they will survive long enough to come into their powers too.’
‘I hope so too. So how did I end up with you?’
‘You needed to vanish from sight, and that’s exactly what smugglers do: we’re invisible.’ Dad puts his arm around me and holds me tight. ‘I know it’s a lot to take in, but we’re still your family.’
‘It’s OK, Dad, I know you are,’ I say. ‘You’ve always been around for me. Nothing has changed. Nothing could ever change that. But it must have been very hard for Kallan and Morgan.’
‘It was.’
‘Would you mind if I wanted to meet them?’
‘I don’t know if it’s possible, but if that’s what you want then yes, of course I’ll help you look for them.’
I pull the map towards me and point at the scribble. ‘Do you think this might help us find them? Are you sure this is her signature? After all, Morgan is not an unusual name.’