The Last Rabbit

by Shelley Moore Thomas

  “He’s been busy, see, with the war and all. There are lots of battles in the Pacific and the Atlantic. Lots of battles mean lots of casualties. Yes, he has been quite occupied.”

  “The Sea says you have to give it back.”

  “But if I give it back, I’ll never get past them. They are beastly, as I’m sure you know, being such a knowledgeable rabbit.”

  My mother wasn’t one for telling fanciful tales. She didn’t believe in princesses with towers or fairy godmothers. She said there was enough real magic in the world to worry about and not to waste time with imaginary magic. But I wonder sometimes, if it’s not all the same thing. All I knew about kelpies were things from a book I read in the Magician’s library called Mysterious Creatures. Inside the dusty pages, I read about faeries who curdled your milk, sluaghs who stole your soul and flew off as birds, and of course, kelpies. Kelpies were a type of horse that lived in water and lured unsuspecting people to get onto their backs with their beautiful flowing manes. If you got on one, it would gallop you away to your death. So I was guessing that Death was their master.

  “Well, I’m not returning it,” the Boy said. “Not just yet. Not until I use it to get to the portals.”

  “You mean we. We are going through the portals.”

  “No. Too dangerous.” His voice was quiet but firm. “You aren’t going. Neither of you.” He looked like he held even more secrets and they were ready to spill out of him.

  “You are not the boss,” I said.

  Caragh, who had been silent this entire time, finally spoke up.

  “We’ve done things your way,” she began, her eyes never leaving the Boy’s face. “And look where it has gotten us. All my sisters separated by space and time, searching for our destinies. Maybe that isn’t how people find their way in life. Maybe we should listen to Albie’s idea.”

  The Boy looked down, then nodded.

  “Very well. What’s your idea, Albie?”

  Good question.

  “I need to think,” I said.

  “Take your time,” said the Boy. “I can’t wait to hear.”

  And with that, the Boy pulled his cap down over his eyes and lay back. He folded his hands across his chest just like he was going to sleep.

  He started fake snoring.

  Caragh yawned big and wide.

  “You can take a rest, you know,” I said with a sigh. “It’s not like I’m going to have some amazing idea and not wake you and tell you about it.”

  “You should sleep, too,” Caragh said, followed by another yawn.

  “Oh, I will.”

  But not yet.

  I didn’t seem to need much sleep as a rabbit. The Boy’s fake snores turned real soon enough, and Caragh’s mouth hung open a little as she fell asleep, too.

  Somewhere out there was a portal to Nodnol.

  And I would be the one going through it. I couldn’t let the Boy botch our chance to save Isolde.

  Grabbing the bridle from the Boy’s pocket was easy, as was silently splashing over the side of the boat. Finding the leader of the kelpies, now that was going to be hard.

  The Magician’s book said that kelpies hunted in shallow waters, which made it easier to find humans and lure them onto their backs. If kelpies were near the shore, and their job was to guard the portal, it only made sense then that the portal to Nodnol was near the shore as well.

  The problem was the current. I don’t know much about how the Sea works, but it seemed to me that the waves took you either toward the land or away from it. So I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting there.

  I was floating in the Titanic life preserver, which had strangely remained near the Boy’s boat. Sometimes it did seem like this rabbit had a little luck.

  The waves were loud, but I could’ve sworn the Howler was nearby. My rabbit fur stood on end, just like it would when the howling would start.

  I gritted my teeth and tucked my ears under my chin to block out any noise. No time for Howlers.

  I kept my feet from dangling and my tail from dipping into the water. Obviously, I didn’t want her to know what I was doing. There was no way the Sea would think that meeting up with a herd of kelpies was a good idea.

  They call to you, you know. When they can smell you, they start calling. It resembles the worst, most off-key singing. And it echoes, on and on and on.

  It was a terrifying sound. My stomach felt swirly and squirmy, and my fur felt like it grew on the inside of my skin.

  The Sea was rather rough near the kelpies. Lots of thrashing waves and foam.

  The kelpies threw their shadows, tall and gloomy, against the tossing waves. Occasionally, a glimmer of an iridescent green mane slipped into view.

  It was mesmerizing.

  It didn’t take long for them to surround me. Perhaps they were fighting over which of them was going to tempt me on its back and drag me down to the depths.

  I needed the leader of the herd. A bold bronze-colored kelpie approached and nudged at my little circle of life, causing it to tip wildly.

  But I held on.

  Another did the same, and soon, they were bombarding me with their noses. Holding the glimmering bridle in my hand, I threw it over the head of the bronze kelpie, hoping with all my might it was the leader.

  Immediately the kelpie I’d bridled slowed his assault. He swam close to me and bowed his head in submission. The rest of them, twelve or so, followed his lead.

  They knelt before me on a bed of froth and foam like I was their queen.

  If my mother had been around, she’d have scolded me for getting on the back of a magical creature. She tried to instill in her children proper respect for the magical arts and sciences. For a moment, I thought about how wonderful it would be to have someone scold me to keep me safe.

  I think the Sea had discovered what I was up to, for the waves became severe and strange. But I was already on the kelpie’s back, whispering “Nodnol” into his ear.

  Down we dove, down to the bottom of the ocean, the kelpie’s green mane tickling my nose. I wasn’t gasping for air, which must have been part of the magic of the bridle.

  And then there was a light.

  And a very grand cavern.

  The kelpie hadn’t taken me to Nodnol. Not one bit.

  I had an awful feeling I knew where I was. After all, where else would a kelpie take its prey but to its leader? And who watched over Death in the Sea?

  Before swimming away and leaving me utterly stranded, the kelpie lowered its head and curved its back so I tumbled off. I was still holding the bridle, which slid off with ease.

  “Barinthus?” I called, surprised to hear my voice under the waves. Bridle magic again.

  “Barinthus!” I shouted fiercely this time. It was like we were no longer underwater, yet I could taste the salt on my tongue and feel the water in the way I moved as if in slow motion.

  “What do you want?” The voice was the oldest-sounding thing I’d ever heard. And the most tired. It made the old Magician sound like a spring chicken.

  “Speak up! I can’t see you!” he commanded.

  A figure loomed. Like the Boy, he was meant to blend in. His skin and hair were greenish blue, and his skin wrinkled the way your fingers do if you stay in the tub too long.

  “Hulloooo?” I said timidly.

  “Where are you?”

  “Down here, sir,” I said, because for some reason I found myself scampering along the floor of the cave rather than swimming.

  The fact that I was holding the bridle gave me only two options. Truth or lie. I am embarrassed to say that I didn’t choose truth. However, it wasn’t exactly a lie, either. “I’m returning this. It was stolen, I think.” I laid the bridle at his feet, which were bare and green, too.

  “Did my son send you?” He bent down, picked me up by my ears, and brought me level with his face.

  “Not sent. Not really.”

  He scrunched his eyes at me, like it would help him read my mind.

  He le
t go, and I floated back down to the bottom of the cave. He turned from me and walked to a table, where he laid the bridle absently.

  “What do you want?” he asked, taking a seat at the table and motioning for me to do the same.

  I hopped up to the chair, then to the table.

  Up close, he was even scarier. In the oddly lit room, the shadows gave his face an eerie transparency. The face in front of me was there and not there at the same time.

  “I just wanted to give this back. He, um, took it, I think. But he had a good reason. I’m just giving it back.”

  “And I’m asking you what you want for it.”

  “Nothing, I guess. Isn’t it yours?”

  “Of course it’s mine!” he roared, slamming his fist on the table, sending me swirling head over ears off the table. I swam back over, trying to stay calm.

  “So, as I said, I am bringing it back. We need to pass—”

  Barinthus interrupted. “You know nothing, rabbit.”

  “I know this bridle is yours and that I have returned it,” I said. “And my name is Albie O’Brien.”

  “Is it, now?” he said. “Let me see.” He reached out, and a scrolled list appeared in his hand. “Let’s see if you are here, Albie.” He scanned the incredibly long list in an instant, then turned his gaze back to me. “Well, not on the list. That’s a good thing, for you, anyway. It means you’re not on the list to die at sea. I’m not destined to ferry you in my boat.”

  I gulped, somewhat relieved.

  “But you know nothing of how the Sea works, do you?”

  I shook my head. “Not really, sir.”

  He seemed to puff up a bit at the sir.

  “And nothing of life and death, obviously.”

  Of course I knew about death. My parents were dead. That’s about the most horrible lesson a person can have to learn.

  “I assume you have noticed that life is not…what is the word…fair? If you do something good, that doesn’t guarantee that something good will happen to you, does it? Bad things happen to good people all the time, don’t they, rabbit—I mean, Albie? Things in the Sea are much fairer. When you return something, you must be rewarded. Thus, I must give you something in order for me to take control of the bridle again.”

  The Sea had a sense of fairness—I would have expected no less.

  I couldn’t think of anything he had that I might want.

  “I can’t bring your parents back, if you were wondering that.”

  I hadn’t even thought of that.

  “What we need is passage to a place that is neither here nor there, if that makes any sense,” I said.

  “Who is we?” he asked.

  “It’s um, me…and um, also—”

  “Me.” It was the Boy. Out of nowhere, he swam over, able to breathe in water. I hadn’t seen nor heard him approach.

  “Son,” said Barinthus.

  “Father.”

  Neither made the move to embrace.

  “So you are a thief now as well as a deceptive runaway?”

  “I didn’t run away. I rowed away in my boat,” said the Boy. “Which, as you recall, I’m allowed to do.”

  “Indeed,” said Barinthus. “Surely you realize the danger you have put yourself in.”

  “I have, all my life, lived in danger.”

  Barinthus didn’t like that last comment one little bit.

  He seethed. There was actual smoke coming from his ears! (Later the Boy would tell me it was a trick of the light. And he would also tell me that steam couldn’t really exist underwater and that I’d learn about that if I ever studied about matter and chemistry. But I knew what I saw.)

  “Maybe never more so than right now, Son.” His voice was truly menacing now. Why was he so angry? Except for the stealing bit. But nobody’s kids were perfect, were they?

  Barinthus, still fuming, glanced absently in my direction. “And what about you, rabbit?”

  I shrugged. What else could I do?

  Barinthus rose and took a step toward his son. One of the Boy’s feet moved backward, but slowly the foot moved back to its place, and the Boy held firm. They looked at each other, not blinking.

  Finally Barinthus sighed. A long, deep sigh, the kind my mother used to make when she’d find me all messy. “So,” he said.

  “So,” said the Boy.

  “I don’t have time to deal with this. Do you know what it’s like to be the Ferryman during times of war? Well, yes, I suppose you do, because there is always some sort of war going on. That’s humanity for you. Capable of such deep love and such deep hatred.”

  He turned back toward the table and collected the bridle. It was small in his hand, but still shimmery.

  “Another day we’ll deal with things between us, my son. Another day. I’ve souls to guide across the abyss. And you have things to do as well. Obligations I trust you haven’t forgotten.”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “Good. We shall reconvene soon.”

  The Boy nodded. I didn’t know if Barinthus meant that I would be part of that meeting, but I couldn’t keep from nodding.

  “And, rabbit—Albie—you and whoever else is with you can have safe passage to wherever it is you want to go. No beasts will hinder you. Consider matters between us settled.”

  The Boy motioned to me that it was time go, so I hopped through the water to him and leaped into his arms.

  “Son,” Barinthus said, and the Boy turned around. “Don’t forget the rules.”

  “I won’t.”

  “And the next time you want something, how about if you just ask instead of stealing? Hmm?”

  Caragh wasn’t there when we got back to the boat.

  She hadn’t left a note, either. Perhaps she was just a little too used to doing things on her own; she had forgotten that other people might care what she’d gotten herself into. It shouldn’t have surprised us—her last job was being shot from a cannon.

  “She’s not dead,” the Boy said as he rowed us into darkening skies and even darker waters. “I’d know if she was. That’s one of the benefits of being the son of Barinthus, I suppose.”

  Lucky him.

  Looking at the vastness of the Sea, I knew he was right. The Sea wouldn’t have taken Caragh into its depths. She just wouldn’t have. Which means that, unless she had a mad desire to get shot from a cannon again, she was probably trying to sneak her way to Nodnol.

  “How will she get past the kelpies? We gave your father back the bridle.”

  “Actually, you gave him back the bridle.”

  I wasn’t going to argue. The water was getting choppy, and some of the waves were sporting tiny white hats. Festive but deadly.

  “There are other ways,” he said.

  “Like what?”

  “My father promised safe passage. Caragh probably got through the portal just fine.”

  A flash of lightning interrupted our conversation, followed by a crack of thunder.

  “That came out of nowhere!” I cried.

  “Did it?” said the Boy. He maneuvered his boat up and down the whitecaps with ease.

  “Are you making that storm?” I cried over the sounds of the Sea and the air.

  “What storm?” he asked, smirking. “No,” he continued. “I’m not making this storm. Barinthus is.”

  “Why?” I asked as I rolled in a little ball and careened from one side of the boat to the other, slamming against the side. My ears got smashed, which made my eyes water.

  “He’s mad.”

  I gave him a look. Was I really going to have to ask why again?

  “Okay, well, I took something. I knew he’d cause a big storm. When he does that, the kelpies automatically retreat.”

  “You stole from your dad again?”

  “Borrowed,” said the Boy, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the bridle. “Besides, this has lots of uses, and it might come in handy.”

  Another wave washed over the side, nearly whisking me away.

&nb
sp; “I’ll return it when we’re done. Promise.”

  I thought I’d feel it when we passed through the portal. But one moment there was nothing in front of us, the next, Nodnol loomed ahead. No shift in the wind, no vibration. Just like when my sisters and I landed on Hybrasil in that ratty old boat.

  It was late afternoon. We found Caragh just as we approached the shore of the Thames. She was standing on the edge, waiting for us. The Boy tried to flex his muscles as he rowed. Embarrassing.

  Caragh’s hair was a mess, and her dress was ripped at the hem. One of her high-heeled shoes was missing and had been replaced by a rather sturdy-looking boot. Why didn’t she just change into the matching boot that dangled from her hand? Maybe she didn’t notice how ridiculous she looked.

  When she saw us, her expression brightened; then her eyebrows came together like two trains on a collision course.

  “Where have you been? Did you think I wanted to spend the next ten years sitting here waiting for you?” she screeched at us as she scrambled into the boat. “I wouldn’t have, I tell you. I should just stay with Isolde, and the two of you can go to the devil.”

  Wow. She was really, really mad.

  “How did you get here? Did you swim?” I asked.

  “No. Obviously.” She glared at me, huffed, and plopped herself on the wooden bench. She pointed to a large ship overhead with grand sails and a plaque that read BRAVE PADDY on the bottom. Our father’s name. A rope ladder was slowly lowering just above the Boy’s boat. “She came for me. She patrols the portal, you know. A pretty important job.”

  Isolde’s ship cast a shadow, enveloping us in gentle darkness. “We should go. Isolde says there will be another attack soon.”

  “Pirates, I presume,” said the Boy.

  “Of course it’s pirates.”

  “Where is Isolde?” I asked. “We can’t leave without her.”

  Caragh softened, replacing mad with sad. She put a hand on my paw ever so softly. “Aw, Albie honey, she…well…Isolde should tell you herself.”