The Sorrow of the Waters (Kalika Magic Book 3)

by Karen Hughes

  Indie pointed to a large wooden vessel with rolled sails and galley slaves asleep in chains at the oars. On one side was the crest of Moto, a dragon with flames roaring from its mouth.

  ‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘That ship carries the diplomats, sent by the emperor to make peace with us. Dad was talking about them a few days ago. He said they wear golden robes and funny hats, and he doesn’t trust them at all. Do you think they’ll take us to Nagara?’

  ‘Are you crazy?’ said Kai. ‘If they find us on board they’ll take us straight back to Ballyndor. They’re supposed to be making peace, not stealing royal children.’

  ‘Well, what about that one?’ asked Indie. Kai looked to where she pointed and saw an old fishing boat with torn nets and a battered hull, sitting deep in the water.

  ‘No, thanks,’ he said, grimacing. ‘I don't want to drown. And anyway, how do you know it’s going to Moto?’

  Brek, who hadn't spoken until now, turned to them with a wry smile. ‘Look at the ships on the other side,’ he said. ‘See the white sails?’

  They looked and saw five large ships with furled white sails, each with the golden eagle of Ballyndor painted on the bow. The closest bore the name, Ceradwin.

  ‘Those ships belong to the grain fleet,’ Brek continued. ‘They sail to Moto to trade moka grain in return for gypsy spices. They never stay in dock for more than a day. They load up at night and leave first thing in the morning.’

  Kai looked at Brek. The beginning of a smile played across his lips.

  ‘The grain fleet,’ he mused. ‘If they find us, they’ll still have to deliver their cargo to Nagara.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Indie. ‘And when they find us ... if they find us ... they'll just bring us home again. It’s perfect.’

  ‘It is,’ said Brek. ‘Except that we’ll have to hide in the cargo hold.’

  ‘That’s not so bad,’ said Indie.

  Brek raised one eyebrow. ‘Wait and see,’ he said.

  It wasn’t easy to get on board – they had to swim all the way out to the Ceradwin, pushing their packs ahead of them on a wide plank of wood, and then climb the slippery ropes that hung down over the side – but at last they were safely tucked below deck, hidden behind the great barrels of grain.

  Indie finally understood what Brek had been hinting. The smell was overpowering: the sickly sweet stench of the grain combined with the stink of tar, bilge water and rum, and the musky odour of the rats that ran back and forth between the barrels.

  Indie turned pale and scrambled backwards.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kai hissed. He flexed his fingers, which had been squashed under Indie’s foot.

  ‘There are rats,’ said Indie. ‘I hate rats.’

  ‘They’re no different to any other animal,’ said Brek. ‘Some people in Ballyndor keep them as pets.’

  ‘Ugh.’ Indie looked away, her nose crinkled in disgust.

  Kai settled back against the ropes and canvas. He opened his pack and pulled out a hunk of bread.

  ‘Here,’ he said, passing it to his sister. ‘Have some breakfast. It’ll make you feel better.’

  Indie looked unconvinced, but she took the bread and ate it in a few swift mouthfuls.

  ‘Is there any more?’ she asked.

  ‘Don’t eat too much,’ said Brek. ‘It’ll take at least two weeks to get to Nagara.’

  ‘Two weeks!’ Indie slumped against her pack. She had to hide away in a dark hole with rats and smells and her annoying brother for two weeks. This wasn’t an adventure, it was torture.

  By the end of the first night, Indie was stiff and dirty and covered in vomit. She felt very sorry for herself. The ship lurched and tipped from side to side. Waves pounded against the hull. She clung to the heavy barrels of moka grain, which were chained to iron rings embedded in the hull, as the sky outside the tiny porthole grew dark and the world slipped and slid around her.

  It was impossible to sleep. She crept from her hiding place and stood in front of the barrels, stretching her aching legs.

  ‘Only thirteen days to go,’ Kai whispered.

  ‘I wish I’d never come,’ muttered Indie. ‘I wish I was tucked in my warm bed, drinking hot coco and pretending to be a princess.’

  ‘You hate being a princess,' said Kai. ‘You'd much rather be here.’

  Indie glared at him.

  He grinned and passed her a chunk of moka bread, but it was the last thing she wanted, locked away in this airless space with the pungent smell of moka grain all around her.

  She braced herself against the barrels as she chewed the dry bread. She was just thinking she’d finally found her sea legs when the ship rose over a giant wave and crashed to the sea below. Her feet gave way beneath her and she fell heavily, with a loud cry, into a pile of cargo nets.

  She looked around in panic. She could hear footsteps above her, feel the cold blast of air as the hatchway opened.

  Two large, hairy feet appeared at the top of the ladder, followed by a pair of long legs clad in filthy, ragged pants. The sailor landed on the boards with a thud. He looked around.

  ‘Rats,’ he muttered, turning to climb back up the ladder. Then he stopped. Slowly he turned back again and fixed his eyes on Indie, who was lying prone against the nets, praying he wouldn't notice her.

  ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘And what have we here?’

  He reached Indie in four long strides, leaned down and grasped her roughly by the shoulder. Dragging her to her feet, he squinted at her in the dim light. ‘A girl!’ he exclaimed. ‘Blimey.’

  He twisted her arms behind her back. She could smell his rank breath.

  ‘This is the king’s fleet,’ he said. ‘We don’t take kindly to stowaways.’

  He pulled her to the ladder.

  ‘Wait!’ Indie looked frantically at the barrels. Kai and Brek were hidden in the shadows. She hoped they had the sense to stay there.

  ‘I’m taking you to the captain,’ said the sailor.

  ‘No ... Please …’ said Indie, thinking quickly. ‘My father is a sailor, just like you. I’m trying to find him. I think he’s in Nagara.’

  The sailor’s face softened. ‘Your old man’s a sailor?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Indie. She turned and gazed up at him with wide, innocent eyes. ‘Please don’t send me back to Ballyndor. They’ll beat me and lock me in the cellar and … and … leave me to starve.’

  The sailor was silent for a moment.

  ‘Please,’ said Indie again, her voice desperate. ‘I’ll be so quiet. I won’t be any trouble. And when we get to Nagara, I’ll sneak away, quiet as a mouse. No one will ever know I was here.’

  The sailor released her arms. He gave her a long, hard look. ‘You don’t look like a sailor’s brat. Your clothes are too fancy.’

  ‘I stole them,’ said Indie. ‘From a clothesline.’

  The sailor looked doubtful. ‘The boots, too?’

  Indie looked down at her shiny black boots, a perfect fit, laced neatly at the top. ‘They belong to the rich lady I’ve been working for. She’s horrible. She makes me scrub the floor until my fingers bleed.’

  The sailor frowned. He looked suspiciously at Indie's hands. She held her breath. Would he guess that she was making it all up?

  There wasn't much light in the hold, and riding Canto and taking sword fighting lessons with Dargan had left her with rough callouses on her palms. Besides, her hands were so dirty it was hard to see anything. But would that be enough?

  He looked back at her anxious face. ‘I’ve got a daughter of my own,’ he said.

  Indie could breathe again. ‘You’d want to know if she was unhappy, wouldn’t you?’ she asked, quickly. 'You’d want to know if people were hurting her.’

  ‘I’d kill them,’ said the sailor. ‘With my bare hands.’

  ‘Then you’ll help me? … Please?’

  The sailor looked at her for a long moment, and then he grinned and said, ‘I’ll probably regret it.’

 
‘Oh, thank you,’ cried Indie, giving him her most grateful smile.

  ‘My name is Fintan,’ said the sailor, turning to leave. ‘Stay quiet. We’ll be there in a couple of weeks, depending on the weather. It’s been a rough night and it looks like it’s getting worse. Storms all up and down the coast.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen the sky so black.’

  He climbed the ladder, pulled the hatchway shut behind him. Indie fell back on the cargo nets. Kai and Brek crept out from behind the barrels.

  ‘You’re a good liar, Indie,’ said Brek, shaking his head.

  ‘I had a lot of practice on the island with Aunt Sofia,’ said Indie, with a mischievous grin. ‘She never let me do anything.’

  They curled behind the barrels, attempting to sleep for the remaining hours until dawn. The ship rocked and tipped. Above them, they could hear the heavy footsteps of sailors running on the deck, the slap of sails being lowered, the shouts of the sailors.

  The first week passed in a haze of vomit, choppy waters, and threatening winds; but nothing worse. The sailor proved a useful ally, smuggling food and water to Indie, and even ginger root to help her terrible sea sickness. Kai and Brek stayed hidden when they heard the hatchway opening – they weren’t sure if Fintan would be so kind to three stowaways.

  The storm, when it finally came, hit with the force of an angry giant. It picked up the Ceradwin and tossed her on the black waters, slamming her into the towering waves. The children and Brek, hiding in the darkness of the hold, didn’t see the men swept overboard, the masts cracked and splintered, the lightning splitting the sky.

  The night went on and on. They jammed their bodies behind the grain barrels, and clung to the slippery chains that secured the barrels to the hull. Everything else in the hold – kegs of beer and sour milk, casks of salted meat, nets and pails, and bales of fine linen and wool – worked free of the ropes that lashed it all together, and rolled back and forth in a violent dance.

  Some of the kegs smashed, pouring their contents onto the boards. The rank smell added to the stifling odour of the hold. Salt water flooded in. They cowered behind the barrels, ankle deep in cold water, convinced the ship was sinking and they would be lost forever in the silent depths of the sea.

  In the morning, when the waters were calmer and the raging winds had passed, Fintan climbed down the ladder and spoke to Indie again.

  ‘We’ve lost four men and most of the deck cargo,’ he said. ‘The ship is badly in need of repair. We’ll dock at Sampa Cove, and then turn back for Ballyndor.’

  ‘But I need to get to Nagara!’ said Indie.

  ‘Get off the ship before anyone sees you,’ the sailor continued. ‘The captain hates stowaways. If he finds you here, he’ll have you flogged, and you’ll be swabbing the decks all the way to Ballyndor.’

  Indie’s heart sank. They were so close. But she nodded at the sailor and said thank you, promising to be off the ship before the captain found her.

  ‘If you need me, go to the Tiger’s Eye,’ he said. ‘They’ll know where to find me.’

  ‘The Tiger’s Eye?’

  ‘It’s the only inn in Sampa Cove. Packed with fishermen and sailors. You can’t miss it.’

  When he had gone, Kai and Indie were silent, their faces glum.

  ‘Cheer up,’ said Brek. ‘Sampa Cove is the first village you come to when you cross the Dasa Mountains into Moto. I’ve been there before. It’s a nice place, bustling with gypsy traders. We’ll find someone to take us to Nagara.’

  Chapter 6

  The Moon Tree

  Nima climbed through the branches of the Moon Tree and down the rippled trunk, landing with a jump on the rocky ground. The Dasa Mountains towered above her, vast and rugged and scattered with snow.

  ‘Oh, you're here! I'm so happy to see you!’ The voice was high-pitched and reedy, and Nima looked around to see a young woman standing beside her. ‘I'm Magena,’ the woman said. 'I'm the spirit of the Moon Tree. I’ve been longing to meet you.’

  Magena was small and pixie-like, with smooth brown skin and a mop of dark curls dotted with twigs, leaves, and delicate yellow flowers. She smiled at Nima, displaying a row of perfect white teeth with a little gap at the front.

  ‘I’m sorry I missed you before, when you were climbing down the mountain with your father,’ she said, fluttering her hands. ‘I was visiting my brother, Kaosha.’

  Nima stared at her. ‘Kaosha is your brother. But he’s so much older than you!’

  Magena giggled. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you, but actually he's not. Time is different for us. We can appear in any form we choose. Kaosha appears as an old Kalika man because he thinks it makes him look wise. I prefer to look like this. It doesn’t matter; not many people can see us.’

  The tree spirit put her slender hand on Nima’s arm. ‘The snow is coming. You must get to the Dasa village by nightfall.’

  Nima nodded. She pulled her tattered cloak tightly around her shoulders. The wind was rising, and she could feel the ice in the air.

  ‘Jabar is waiting for you,’ said Magena. ‘I sent word with his hawk, Shae. She’s such a pretty bird. Hooked beak, yellow legs, soft grey feathers. And so powerful! She embodies the souls of his ancestors, you know. All he has to do is call on her and she’ll give him all sorts of tips about being a warrior.’

  ‘Someone should tell him that,’ said Nima.

  ‘Oh, you can’t tell him. He won’t listen. He has to find out for himself.’

  ‘He should stay here on the mountain, then, and spend time with Shae,’ said Nima. ‘He’s not the one who released Sofia.’

  ‘Neither are you! You wouldn’t have made that wish if you’d known the consequences.’

  ‘I might have,’ said Nima, softly.

  Magena gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘It is done,’ she said. ‘You can’t change that now.’

  ‘No,’ said Nima. ‘But I can go to Nagara and make things right. Kaosha told me what to do. He said nothing about Jabar.’ She sighed. ‘Jabar should stay here with Shae.’

  ‘Shae will be with Jabar wherever he goes, you know that. If Sofia has her way, he’ll lose everything else – his village, his people ... even the girl he loves. Let him help you. This is part of his journey, too.’

  Nima said a solemn goodbye to Magena, and began the long walk up the mountain. She had so much to think about. Sofia and Shae and the tree spirits … and more importantly, the fact that Jabar loved a girl. Why hadn't he said something? He usually told her everything.

  By the time she reached the creeping wall, covered with twisting, thorny vines at the entrance to the ice caves, the temperature had plummeted and the wind was growing stronger. She said the words her father had told her to remove the vines and open the caves, and then she crept inside.

  Shafts of sunlight illuminated the ice, glittering on the turquoise walls and lighting her way. After a while the light faded to grey, and she could hear the roar of the wind outside on the mountain. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of doom.

  You really made a mess of things, whispered a voice inside her head. You thought you could wish for your mother and live happily ever after. Pah. What do you think this is? A fairy story?

  It was an ugly voice, and it took her a moment to realise that it wasn't her own. She shook her head to clear it, but the voice was relentless.

  You can't do this, it whispered. You aren’t good enough.

  Nima took a deep breath. The ice seemed to be creeping towards her, stretching out its long, dripping fingers, calling to her.

  Not good enough. Can’t do this.

  The ghostly fingers trailed along her skin. Cold. So cold.

  Give up, whispered the voice. Close your eyes. Sleep.

  She was being drawn into the wall, sucked into a space where time no longer existed.

  The fingers crept along her arms. Over her shoulder. Up the side of her neck.

  She was breathing heavily, overcome by sadness.

  Slowly, lig
htly, the fingers whispered across her cheek.

  Sleep, the voice said.

  She closed her eyes. It would be so easy to give up. So easy to let go and float away into the endless night.

  An image flashed into her mind. It was Sofia, trapped in the panther’s shadow, tearing at its fur. Through the fog, another thought began to take form. I’m not like her.

  Opening her eyes with a start, she cried ‘Usha! Help me!’

  The spell on the ice caves was strong, but the magic of the mountain was stronger. There was a low growl and the soft pad of leopard paws. The air shimmered with light. Usha appeared beside her. Nima put out her hand and buried her fingers in Usha's thick fur. Her confidence came flooding back.

  ‘I am good enough,’ she whispered. ‘I’m the apiki flower.’

  The icy fingers receded. The heaviness lifted. The voice in her head was silent. She walked on through the caves with Usha by her side.

  When they reached the end of the caves, a snowstorm was raging and everything was white. Nima stood at the cave entrance, looking out at the glacier. She could just make out the bridges and the towers of ice – seracs, her father called them – rising up through the snow, ending at the peak of the mountain.

  The glacier would be impossible to climb now, and these storms could last for days, but she couldn’t wait. She had to get to Nagara.

  Usha rubbed against her legs, purring. Nima knelt down beside her on the ice and pressed her forehead into the snow leopard’s fur. ‘We are one,’ she whispered, and in an instant she was looking at the storm through Usha’s blue-grey eyes.

  A wild, fearless power surged through her body. Her senses came alive. She could hear the trickle of meltwater under the glacier, see the stone tower high on the mountain, smell the snow in the air.

  The magic of the mountain pulsed inside her. She was aware of shadows moving around her, figures dancing in the snow. They were the spirits of all the people she had known as a child. They smiled at her and touched her fur, and she knew they were there to protect her.