“You must hide too. They cannot take you away again.” Ranger circles me, whining softly before barking at the approaching birds.
I can’t recall hearing him bark before, and the noise seems to startle him as well. I remind myself that he is, in fact, a dog—a dog who once led a hungry pack on a chase to run me down for what would have been a meager meal—and who ultimately became my trainer, my guide, my protector.
“Yes! Ranger’s right,” Dad says. “Let’s get to the house quickly.”
“No, I won’t hide. You go,” I tell them before taking flight. I’m not about to let Odin’s messengers hurt anyone in the village. I hear my father call my name. He’s afraid for me, but I’m not. Not anymore.
The ravens falter in their approach when they see me blasting toward them, and just as I’m about to stretch out my hands to touch them—to let them know they have no power over me anymore—the tingling takes over and I dissolve around them. It happens quickly, just as it had that first time I dissolved in Kumugwe’s castle and when I spread through the atmosphere in search of Noor on the other side.
It feels like my body is melting, multiplying, falling apart but becoming stronger, as if each tiny particle contains all of me.
It was alarming before. This time, though, I’m not afraid.
Almost as quickly as I surround them, particles of me enter through the birds’ eyes and into their minds and I know they’re not coming to threaten me or the villagers. This knowledge calms me. I snap back together, back into the body of Celeste, my body—a body I finally feel I have some control over—and guide the birds down to the village where Dad nervously strokes the stubble on his chin and Ranger growls deep and low.
“It’s all right, Ranger, they’re not here to cause trouble.” I don’t have to be in Ranger’s mind to understand his discomfort. Huginn and Muninn are each about twice his size, and the potential threat of their sharp, glistening beaks is very real.
Nick runs from the house toward the birds wielding a shovel, and I stop him with a word. It’s just a “no,” but its sound reverberates throughout the village. People peer from windows and I feel a little embarrassed for stopping him so abruptly, so loudly, so . . . powerfully. The word came from me, but in a voice I finally recognize as my true voice.
I take a deep breath.
“They’re just lost, Nick.” Not physically, of course, but mentally. Emotionally. Animals, fish, birds, they all feel things, remember things. I know this because I felt it in the ravens, I’ve witnessed it with Ranger, and I experienced it with Zoya.
Nick lowers the shovel, but keeps a firm grip on it, and movement from across the field distracts me. It’s Thunder, bounding from the forest toward us, with a blurry three-headed being at his side followed by an enormous metal horse with what appears to be peacock feathers trailing behind it.
Somehow, none of this surprises me.
My reunion with Thunder is joyful! He licks my dirty face and nearly knocks me over as he rubs the length of his swirling Easter-egg-spotted coat against me. I’m introduced to the newcomers—Merts, a three-headed archer, and Lou and Layla, the spectacular fusion of peacock and horse.
For several moments, I let the ravens flutter around nervously. I let them experience a touch of fear, even, not because I want to be mean, but because I want to add to their understanding of life on a mortal planet.
“Eenie and the cubs?” I ask, and he tells me how beautiful they all are.
“Sleepin’ the day away, fat an’ happy, just like they’re s’posed to be,” he says. “Me and my peculiar posse here were just out lookin’ to keep trouble away.” Thunder turns his attention to the ravens, and they jump back several paces.
I’m reminded of the day I rescued Thunder from the fissure, but I don’t want to think about all the tragedies that followed.
“What’s up with the squawkers, little dude?” he asks, nodding toward the ravens, and I notice Merts examining the feathers on their arrows. I’m mesmerized by the archers. Their shared body appears to come in and out of focus, as if it’s trying to adjust its camouflage with each passing moment. The fletchings on their arrows are identical to Odin’s raven’s feathers.
“They’re Odin’s messengers,” I explain. “They travel around the planet every day and bring back thoughts and memories to him. Odin’s trapped underwater right now, so they’re kind of lost. They don’t really have a purpose without him.”
Nick stares at me while I explain, as if seeing me for the first time. I’m a mess, I know, but that’s not what I see in his eyes. I see . . . admiration? Fear? No, he doesn’t fear me, but there’s something else I can’t identify.
“Ah, Celeste?” my father whispers, touching my shoulder tentatively. “You’re . . . glowing.”
I look down at my hands and feet and understand why Nick and several others are wide-eyed. My copper-colored skin is radiating an emerald green glow, much like my footsteps did in the cave. It feels warm and cool. It feels electrifying. It feels powerful.
“It’s okay, Dad. It doesn’t hurt.” They haven’t seen me dissolve yet.
“But, are you ill? I’ve never seen you like this before.” He presses his lips to my forehead, checking for fever like Mom used to do, but finding nothing out of the ordinary.
“No, I’m fine, really. It’s just something that started with the fluxes. And it’s helpful! Remember, Nick? It helped us find our way in the dark cave.”
Nick nods slowly and I notice an inward focus, as if he’s trying to remember all that happened after he and Chimney found me.
“Let’s see why Huginn and Muninn came to find me.” Before I return to the birds, though, the beings called Merts approach and take my hands.
“You are more than girl / Destined for discovery / Beyond this planet.” It’s the first time I’ve heard them speak, and I’m enthralled by the melody created by their combined voices. It’s almost as beautiful as Harmony’s voice when she’s not angry or frightened.
Dad looks at me with sorrow in his eyes before questioning Merts. “What do you mean, more than girl? Don’t you think she’s been through enough? Don’t you think we’ve all been through enough?” His voice cracks and he pulls me gently into a protective embrace. His agitation is contagious. The ravens hop about pecking at each other and the animals pace in circles around us.
“It’s okay, Dad,” I repeat. “They’re not to blame for anything. I’ve already discovered things beyond our planet. Maybe they know this.” I look at Merts to see if they agree with my interpretation, but their expressions haven’t changed at all. I can’t read them. “The ravens will know more. Let’s find out.”
I pull away from Dad gently, and he releases me slowly, reluctantly, and I approach the birds. Nick follows me, shovel still in hand.
“If they make one threatening move,” he whispers.
“They won’t,” I say, “but thanks for being with me.” They better not do anything threatening. I don’t know what might happen if Nick tries to stop time again. I’m actually a little surprised he didn’t do it when he first saw the massive ravens.
When I’m an arm’s length from them, I open my eyes wide. They stare into each of my eyes, sharing with me thoughts and memories meant for Odin. I’m stunned. They’ve been circling the planet and witnessing its transformation since I threw the spear and the water receded. I feel myself drift into their world.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Copper-colored people and animals and creatures of every sort are repopulating the land and rebuilding destroyed villages around the planet, but vegetation pushes up too slowly from dried, cracked mud.
Skirmishes break out—there’s violence and bloodshed—as fear, hunger, misunderstandings, and impatience bring out selfish motivations.
Why is there still fear?
Muninn transfers memories of the ooze and the fissures that killed or trapped nearly everyone. Those who were trapped and kept alive underwater somehow, like my father and possibly Thunder’s peculi
ar posse, retain a subconscious memory of their entrapment.
They’re afraid it could happen again. They’re afraid they’ll never feel in control of anything again.
And their fear is tearing them apart rather than bringing them together.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Celeste. Celeste!” Nick’s voice cuts through my trance. He shakes me gently until I’m able to break my connection with the ravens. There’s wonder in his eyes when I’m finally able to look at him, and I hear him gasp.
Emotionally drained, I walk away from him and my father and friends. How will I tell them—should I tell them what I’ve just seen?
~ 12 ~
“WHAT’S WRONG? Why are you all staring at me?” They’ve followed me to where I sit on the steps in front of a house I once thought would be my new home. My head feels fuzzy and my eyesight’s blurry, but I can see Huginn and Muninn circling far above us. My cheeks feel wet, so I might have been crying.
“Your eyes,” Nick’s voice trembles. “They’re like the ravens’.”
“Like the ravens’?” The words don’t make any sense, so I feel my face. There’s definitely something off about it.
“You have raven eyes, but the rest of you looks like you.”
“More than just a girl—”
“Oy! Shuddup already with the riddles, would youz?” Lou, the part of Layla that’s a peacock, silences Merts, and I smile.
But I suddenly feel very cold. “I’m freezing!” I say, shivering uncontrollably. It makes no sense. It’s warm outside.
Nick sits by my side and I feel the warmth of his arms around me. I need to look at him, whatever his reaction might be. I need to look into his eyes and see what he sees. I turn my face to his and my mind swirls dizzyingly. A surge of heat floods my veins and I feel myself lifting from his arms, lifting away from him and everyone around me. I look at the green glow surrounding me like protective armor and I breathe deeply.
Salty mist, hints of sulfur, sun-ripened tomatoes in Teresa’s garden, rotting vegetation far away, snoodles, rusting metal, bacon, wet clay, dust . . . honey-lemon muffins! I smell them all at once and I’m transported into a waking dream.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I fly between Huginn and Muninn, not trapped by them, but as one with them. We float through Odin’s billowing nacreous clouds, brilliantly colored by a sun that always seems to stay on the horizon of the planet below us. His wolves prance across the strands of color to greet us.
“Bring him back to us,” they say. They’re talking to me. “If you do not, he surely will die.”
“He’s weak,” I tell them, “but gods don’t die. Do they?” Where I once was certain of this, now I’m unsure.
“He must return to Asgard soon or we all will die.”
“All?” I ask. I fear for the planet below, though I don’t fear for myself. “The people? The creatures below?”
“All,” the wolves repeat in unison.
I’m whisked from this scene to a crumbled castle deep underwater.
“Is that you, buddy?” Odin’s voice is barely audible, and I feel sorrow. It’s because of me he’s trapped down here, his life force dissipating like an early morning fog as the sun appears.
But no. It’s not because of me. If he hadn’t tried to keep me in Asgard, I wouldn’t have ended up in Kumugwe’s castle.
Do I tell him it’s me? Is it a trick? Do I risk leaving him here to die? Do I risk the entire planet, and maybe even more, if I don’t release him?
I try to say, “I’m here! It’s me! I’ve come to help!” But only silent bubbles escape my mouth. I try pulling on the handle of the crushed door, but it turns into a squirming eel and I scream more bubbles.
Far above the water again, I look toward a distant shore and see the shriveled remains of octopus tentacles—Oh! Zoya! How horribly they abused you!—and near the beach, a large enclosed structure made of debris from the surrounding land. Bizarre bat-like creatures appear to be guarding it from above.
And then I fly again and I see a beautiful mermaid crying on the rocks of a small island mountain. She calls my name as I fly by and I’m lured back to her.
“Help me!” she cries. “My father, he’s—”
Father! My father! He’s alive! I have to return to him. But the ravens whisk me away and we soar over the crystal blue water. On and on we fly at a dizzying pace until we come to a place where no land can be seen, only blue, blue water swelling and rising as if a great beast were lifting itself slowly from beneath the salty surface.
“Where will it all go?” I ask my companions.
I know where water goes when it rises like this. I feel the swell of the water rising in my lungs, and the ravens’ eyes stare into mine accusatorily.
There’s something I still have to do . . .
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This time it’s my father’s plea pulling me back. It’s difficult—I want to stay here in this powerful form—but I harness the glow and bring myself back to the ground.
“Celeste! What’s happening to you?” He runs to me, places his hands on my shoulders as if to keep me grounded, and looks me in the eyes. I can tell by his eyes that mine appear normal again.
Nick’s mouth hangs open and the others gather around me in a wide circle. The rest of my friends have come out of hiding to join them, and the ravens continue to fly in loops far above. They’re waiting for me.
“I’m changing, Dad, I know, but you shouldn’t be afraid for me.” I turn to my small circle of friends, old and new. “I’ve just witnessed how our planet is out of balance and in danger with Odin and Kumugwe powerless. That means we’re at risk too. The Overleader—Sharon—and her parents, along with Blanche, have built a laboratory on land, and I know how they captured Bridger.” I shiver at the thought of those hideous leather-winged creatures carrying him off.
“How? Where is he? When can we go get him? And can we get Blanche back too? She’s not very nice, but I miss my sister.” Chimney’s twitching is exacerbated by excitement and impatience. It looks like he’s trying to squirm out of his skin.
“Come here, Chim,” I open my arms to him and he runs to me. He’s grown some, but he’s still a boy in need of a hug. My heart lightens when I see Orville and Riku approach.
“It won’t be as easy as going to get them,” I tell those in the growing circle as more people join from the village. I tell them what I know about the army they’ve been creating. I tell them about Harmony, discarded daughter of the malevolent scientists, who lured me into a magical sandcastle and ultimately transformed into the sad creature trying to reunite with Kumugwe, the god who raised her. I tell them about my imprisonment and the tragic fate of Zoya.
“And then you,” I ruffle Chimney’s hair, “and Nick came to rescue me!” I flush again at the memory of how Nick woke me up.
“So, when can we go get them?” Chimney repeats, breaking the somber mood I’ve created.
I gaze around at the expectant faces.
“First, I need to figure out a way to release the gods back to their realms. After that—”
“But you’re just a—”
“No, she ain’t, and don’t youz even say it!” Lou’s snarky voice stops the protester, who’s probably thinking what many of them are thinking. I look at Lou and smile, and Layla bows her head to me. I stroke her metal muzzle, and she seems to feel it.
“Thanks, Lou,” I say. The glow I’ve kept harnessed seeps beyond my skin and I know how Chimney must feel when he gets twitchy. I release it, allowing it to surround me, and I feel myself float just above the dusty ground. Everyone but those who know me best step back a pace, and even my closest friends look at me with awe.
“As I was saying, I’ll free the gods because their powers can keep the planet in balance, and we’ll find a way to bring Bridger home.”
“And my sister too, right?”
“And Blanche too, Chim.”
But what if she doesn’t want to come home?
Though the urge to
fly away is great, I can’t leave just yet. An army like none has experienced before will be on its way here soon. I’ll help them plan. So I harness my glow again, land softly in the green particles of dust I’ve created, and walk to where Orville stands smiling at me. The crowd parts to let me pass through them.
“Orville, our village needs a leader for what’s coming. Will you do it?”
He looks at Riku, who nods gently. His smiling face transforms from an expression of surprise to one of gracious acceptance. “Oui, ma petite,” he says. “I will do this because you have asked.”
I look over to Nick and our eyes meet. He smiles and opens his arms to me, and I go to him.
“You’re not gonna go turn all green on me, are you?” he says. “Not that I’m saying it’s a bad color on you—”
“I can’t promise I won’t,” I say.
Huginn and Muninn caw loudly above us, stealing our attention away from one another. They’re calling me to join them.
But they’ll have to wait.
~ 13 ~
ORVILLE CALLS FOR a village meeting after Last Meal, and Nick remains with his arms around me until the crowd disperses.
“I guess I shouldn’t be calling you Pipsqueak anymore.” He’s fidgety, playing with my dirty hair.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind it.” I actually like it. It’s his name for me.
“Whatever this thing is that’s happening to you, I wanna be here for you. Unless you don’t want me hanging around you anymore.” He pulls me even closer, his heartbeat against mine.
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t even be here right now if you hadn’t come looking for me!” He looks me in the eyes again and I melt a little. Doesn’t he know it was my desire to return to him that kept me focused on escaping from Odin and Kumugwe?
“Instead of stopping time, I wish I could turn it back to before the ooze and the fissures and all this destruction.”
“But then we never would have met,” I whisper.
Waterwight Breathe Page 5
