Tide

by Lacy Sheridan

  I paused to look at his face, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring up at the high roof, chest heaving. As if he didn’t know I was there at all. “Aven!” I tried again. Not even a blink. I dropped the knife and moved closer. He didn’t appear to see me. I touched his shoulder, and his head jerked toward me with another snarl. I jerked my hand away. His eyes were wild, unseeing, his teeth bared.

  I didn’t let myself think of a plan. I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. He fought, almost pulling away, but I kept firm. His skin was slick with sweat and blood, too cold. “Aven. It’s me. Hania. Stop.”

  He calmed, relaxing against the ground, but the low, unbroken growl in his throat didn’t stop. I lowered my voice. “It’s me. I’m going to get you out. They won’t hurt you anymore. Do you understand?”

  He blinked, focusing on me. I couldn’t see Aven in his face, only a frantic, lost shadow, but he wasn’t fighting me anymore. I returned to where his wrist was tied down, sawing at the rope. “I’m going to get you out,” I repeated. “We are. Moray and I. Everything will be alright.”

  The rope broke, and his arm fell limp to the ground, as if he had no strength to hold it up. I moved to his leg, working as quick as I could. I had little faith Moray could handle all of the men, especially in the condition it was in, and it wouldn’t be long before one of them turned on me. But it went faster now, with Aven quiet.

  I was through the second rope when something collided with the back of my head. My hair was pulled, clenched in a fist. I gasped, scrambling to keep my balance.

  “Spirited girl, but not enough,” a gruff voice spoke in my ear, and the hand twisted and tossed me aside. I caught myself on my hands and knees.

  My knife was beside Aven. I snatched it up and drove it into the first thing I saw: the leg of the man who had grabbed me. There was a yell of pain. Something struck my side, swung from above. The back end of a spear? I couldn’t be sure.

  I yelped as my arms gave out, dropping me to the ground. My entire side throbbed, and my breath was gone, leaving me gasping and coughing.

  My vision was too blurry with stars to tell what happened next. I heard another growl from Aven and the sound of tearing, then the heavy thump of a body striking the ground. By the time I had recovered my breath and pushed myself up, the man who had attacked me was sprawled across the ground. Aven knelt at his side, one hand at his throat. The stake that had once held the arm I hadn’t cut free was still tied to him, dangling free from the ground.

  The wind was raging now, shaking the walls. Thunder roared, closer.

  “You should know better than to anger a selkie,” Aven snarled. “Hania, go.”

  I tore my gaze from him to the rest of the room. The guards lay dead or unconscious, their faces ashen and lips blue. Moray had fallen to the ground as well, slumped over and catching its breath. I staggered to my feet and scooped it into my hands. “Aven—” I started.

  “I would like for you not to see me kill someone,” he said, eyes never leaving the man he held down. The vodianoi’s teeth were gritted in pain, but he’d accepted that he was going nowhere. I didn’t protest; I backed away, the curtain fell between us, and I slid to the ground. Moray climbed onto the floor beside me to wait, sitting somewhat upright. I didn’t want to go outside in the storm that was building. I didn’t want to see what chaos might be waiting. And I didn’t want to hear what was transpiring on the other side of that dark curtain.

  I curled my hands over my ears, training my gaze on the floor. It did nothing but muffle the scream.

  There was blood everywhere. Soaked into my hands, my arms, my knees where I had knelt in it. I felt it dripping down my back. My blood, Aven’s blood, the blood of those dead men, mingled together.

  I wanted it gone. I wanted to be on my farm, where the only violence came in the form of feeding ourselves and our village. I wanted to be in Papa’s arms, where it was calm and safe.

  I saw the bottom edge of the curtain flick aside and Aven’s feet stop before us. His boots were bloody, too.

  “Hania.”

  I forced myself to look up and see Aven. Not the murderous selkie. Aven, who I had stormed in here to rescue because…

  Because I cared for him, that was why. Because the thought of them hurting him had infuriated and terrified me.

  Aven looked as if he might fall over any minute. He pressed one hand to the cuts along his ribs but more crisscrossed him, each careful and precise—his shoulders, down his arms, his collarbones, like they’d been tracing every bone with the tip of a knife. He held out his other hand to me, and I stared at the blood covering it.

  I took it and got to my feet. He watched me like I was a spooked animal he was expecting to bolt and loosened his grip on my hand. Not quite holding on but letting me decide if I was going to let go or not.

  I didn’t.

  Moray was shaking and braced its hands against a post of the tent as it got to its feet again. Aven lifted it in one hand. “You shouldn’t have drowned them,” he said. I tried not to shake at drown. If Moray could do that to someone from a distance, without even touching them, no wonder it was treated how it was. “I could have taken care of it.”

  “And watch your human stumble through a fight? Please.” It laughed, but there was a flat note of exhaustion in it. “Now we should leave before whatever has the rest of them distracted loses their interest.

  “They have Tobin’s bow,” I managed. I had no idea who had it or where it would have ended up, but I needed it back before we left. Without it I had nothing—nothing of him. And I’d promised to return it to him, even if he hadn’t been there to hear it. It was his, not mine, and I’d gotten it taken. My fault.

  Aven sighed. “It’s gone. Let’s go.”

  “But—”

  “Hania.”

  “It’s not mine to lose, Aven!”

  “We don’t have the time to search the place for it.” Maybe it was the stress or exhaustion, or maybe my nerves were too frayed to hear it, but it sounded like a snarl, and I flinched. “I’m sorry. There are worse things they could’ve taken. We need to go while we have the chance.”

  Guilt sat heavy in my chest and threatened to choke me as I followed him to the other room of the tent. We didn’t have the time. I sent a silent, mental apology to Tobin, every step cutting a little deeper.

  I closed my eyes when we pushed through the opening, but there was so much strewn across the ground I’d trip, opening them again and pressed my lips together to keep quiet. Weapons had fallen haphazardly. The ropes they had bound Aven with were shredded and cast aside. Blood soaked into the dirt, and the metallic scent of it filled the air.

  I tried not to look at the bodies as I stepped over them.

  Aven pushed through the back entrance and led us along another dirt path. None of us spoke. I was too tired, my wounds catching up to me and sending a jolting wave of pain with every step, and my mind kept running in circles even though it was exhausted too.

  Nobody came running after us. No guards. No hunters. No arrows hailing from the sky. There were only the sounds of our footsteps, slow and unsteady. The edges of the village faded away to the rocky hills, and I kept looking back, waiting for some sign of them. Nothing.

  The further we went, the slower Aven’s pace became. I wasn’t sure if it was the amount of blood on him or if he really was paling, but I knew with a glance he couldn’t keep going. None of us could. My feet dragged. Moray’s eyes were glazed, and it swayed with every step; I worried it would topple off Aven’s shoulder.

  “We need to rest,” I said.

  “We need to get as far as possible, as quick as possible,” Aven countered. “To the Court border.”

  “Not like this.” I stopped and waited for him to as well. “They aren’t coming after us. It’s safe for a few hours, isn’t it?”

  “It won’t be safe until we reach the Court, and even then—”

  “Aven.” He stopped again. “Please.”

  H
e stared at me, searching my face. I saw everything I felt reflected in his—pain, exhaustion, shock. He needed it as much as I did, even if he wouldn’t admit it. After what felt like an hour, he nodded and started off again.

  Our path turned to one of the scattered, shallow caves in the hills, and Aven surveyed our surroundings before gesturing for me to go inside. I went into the dim space, cooler than the sun outside, and he followed. I slid to the ground, gritting my teeth, and edged into the most comfortable position I could find. Aven sat across from me, leaning against a wall with his eyes closed.

  He kept one hand pressed to his rips, though the blood I saw was dry or drying. Angry red rope burns cut around his wrists where he’d been tied down, along with the thin slice I’d left in my struggle to free him. He was in bad shape, but he’d been fighting, walking, talking. I had to take that as a good sign.

  “All those cuts,” I started. I wanted to ask if they were what I suspected. How a selkie’s skin was removed, because Aven’s wasn’t visible but for those sleek flashes of sealskin that caught in the sun. I wanted to ask how close he’d come to losing it. But I wasn’t sure I dared.

  He didn’t give me the chance. “They’ll be fine. I’ve had it happen before.”

  “How often does it…happen?”

  “Most people wouldn’t try. But our skin is valuable and if somebody is desperate enough…or cruel enough…I’ve heard stories more than I’ve experienced it firsthand but they were the third to try.”

  “And the first time?”

  “I was a youngling, too young to understand. She didn’t get farther than the first cut before she was caught. She was desperate for the money—to feed her children, she said. I suspect they starved.”

  “So the people at home were the only ones to succeed?”

  “Funny enough, yes.” He opened his eyes, and I was sure he meant to say something. But then he shook his head. “Don’t look at me like that, Hania. I was in much worse shape then and I recovered.”

  I cut my gaze away. “I’m glad we found you before they finished.”

  He laughed dully. “I am, too.” And then he closed his eyes again, resting his head against the wall. A silent signal; the conversation was done.

  I closed mine as well, tired of the faint stinging in my eyes, and didn’t have time to think on what came next before sleep pulled me away.

  I was certain, the first few seconds I was awake, that my entire body was on fire. Every muscle seared from exertion. My head pounded. My back stung. My hand burned. I lifted the other hand to rub sleep from my heavy eyes. When I cracked them open the cave was dark, the only light coming from the moon shining faintly outside.

  I pushed myself up, hip and shoulder aching from the way I’d slept on the hard ground, and closed my eyes when everything swam around me. I waited for it to clear before I saw Aven and Moray, both asleep. Moray looked better, as far as I could tell; the weak, dull air about it had been replaced by something closer to its usual crisp shimmer, and the moonlight caught on its skin in a way the sun hadn’t before.

  Aven though…Aven looked worse.

  I crept closer, moving as quiet as possible to avoid disturbing either of them. Aven’s breathing was shallow, rough, and he looked even paler than before. More than the paleness of blood loss and exhaustion.

  I held my breath as I touched my hand to his brow. Warm—too warm. A curse slipped, and I sat on my heels. I scarcely knew the basics of caring for a wound, much less an infected one. If it was an infection at all. I scanned each of the cuts the vodianoi had left, but none looked any different before. Red and angry and tender, maybe, but that was to be expected.

  Probably nothing, but did I hope so and go back to sleep or follow the terrible feeling in my gut?

  “Aven,” I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. He didn’t react. “Aven.”

  Nothing. I turned to Moray instead, studying the sprite. It was difficult to find any sign of life when Moray was sleeping, I’d discovered—its chest didn’t rise and fall with breath, and it never moved. “Moray.”

  It startled awake, jumping a few inches into the air before tumbling to the ground. Its slanted eyes blinked again and again before focusing on me, and I saw an ocean of irritation flood into them. Another good sign. “What are you—”

  “There’s something wrong with Aven.”

  It didn’t finish. It rushed to Aven, and, after a moment of flitting back and forth around him, a long string of curses flew from it.

  “Did something get infected? How do we—”

  “It’s not an infection,” it said grimly. Its usual glow dulled to an icy shade—the sprite equivalent of paling with worry?

  “What is it? He’s alright, isn’t he?”

  “Of course he isn’t alright. He came halfway to having his skin ripped out.” It shook its head, muttering half to itself, “No wonder he was so slow to get that storm going and it didn’t last. I should have thought of it. I should have stopped him from getting himself worked up. He only made it worse. But I thought if they’d done it, they would have done it earlier, and he was awake—”

  “Moray!” I cut it off. “What is it?”

  “The Courts don’t allow it, but there’s a poison some use on selkies to keep them from causing trouble while they’re skinned. If they want just the skin. People who want to sell it but don’t want to deal with having a live selkie afterwards.”

  “Poison?”

  Poison meant…poison. Death. Unless there was some sort of antidote we could reach, which I doubted in our current situation, it meant death. And Aven couldn’t be poisoned, people didn’t really get poisoned, that was only in stories. Real but not real.

  My entire body felt cold and far away as I stared down at him, wracking my brain for what to do. My hands were shaking and my voice worked on its own, chanting in an unsteady blur of noise. “No, no, no, no—”

  “Denying it won’t save his life.” Moray broke through my rising hysteria like a blade, sharp and impatient and cruelly honest. “We’re days from anywhere that might have an antidote and he doesn’t have days. He needs those wounds bleeding again.”

  I shoved all thought out of my head, focusing on what Moray was saying. How to save him. Bleed it out of him. “Will that fix it?” I demanded.

  It stared down at Aven, eyes too wide. “If something slows it and we work quick enough but…I don’t know. Even if we pull it off he could be sick for days.”

  “Sick is better than dead. What do we need to slow it?”

  “Plants. There are…there are plants.” The sprite tore its gaze away from Aven, shaking itself a little. Like it needed to focus and gather itself. Maybe it wasn’t so cold after all. “Start a fire. Watch for animals. We’re lucky none came to investigate the blood while we were sleeping. I’ll find anything that might help.”

  “Do you know what these plants are?”

  “I know better than you would, little one.”

  “And how do you know they grow here? How will you get back in time?”

  “I don’t, but I’m not going to watch him die.” With that it was gone, and I was sitting alone in shadow once more, staring at Aven.

  “It’ll be back soon,” I promised him in a whisper. “And you’ll be alright.”

  It took effort to move away from him, to search the floor of the cave for twigs. Outside something howled, and I shook. A human and a helpless selkie—we were like prey inviting something to eat us. I didn’t dare take more than a few steps from the mouth of the cave, but I found a few more dry twigs and plant stalks there and piled them inside. Without any of our supplies starting a fire was slow work, but it passed the time. I glanced to Aven again and again, watching for any sign of him waking or getting worse. Nothing changed. But at least that meant we had time, I hoped.

  The fire was small and weak but made me feel better. It would keep any animals away and warm the small space. When I didn’t fear it would go out soon, I returned to my spot by Aven. Felt his
brow again. Not any cooler, but it didn’t feel any warmer either.

  “You’ll be alright,” I said again, as if he could possibly hear me, and stared down at his hand streaked with dried blood before taking it. Maybe because it was Aven. Maybe because I would want somebody to hold my hand if I was in his place.

  I had no sense of time and only the crackling of the fire and the rush of the invisible tide to listen to. Moray seemed to be gone for hours, but the sky was still deep and dark when a flash of movement in the air announced its return. I could have hugged it, but it was straight to business. “Don’t let the fire go out,” it said as soon as it was in sight, tossing a bundle of stalks and leaves to the ground. “He’ll need to eat those. Now.”

  I took a breath and nodded, praying he wasn’t too far gone to wake. “Aven,” I called, shaking his shoulder again. When he had no reaction but to roll his head to me, I raised my voice. “Aven, you need to wake up.” He shifted away with a soft groan. I swallowed my fear and put one hand on the side of his face, turning it to me again. Gods, his skin was so hot, covered by a thin layer of sweat. “Aven!” His eyelids fluttered.

  “Up, selkie, it’s an emergency,” Moray added.

  Another groan. I pushed a lock of dark hair from his eyes. “You need to wake up, Aven. Can you hear me?”

  “Hania?” His voice was a hoarse whisper, but my insides felt like they could fly into the air at the sound of it.

  “Yes, I’m here. Stay awake for me, alright?”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “They either had a windsbane knife or tipped the daggers in it,” Moray said.

  Aven let out an uneven, halting laugh. “Shit.”

  “Here.” I gathered up the plants Moray had dropped and cast the sprite a glance. “These will help, right?” It nodded, pale and wide-eyed. Aven hauled himself up on one elbow, shaking from the effort, and hissed out another curse. Though pain was written across his face he showed no sign of fear but the hitch in his breath. Without a word, he grabbed the leaves.