Fire in the Sea

by Myke Bartlett

  ‘Turn yourself around and walk back towards me, young lady. Nice and slow.’

  Sadie nodded, but took a step backwards. When the policeman didn’t shoot, she took another. It was the only thing she could do. She couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t make it to the boat and sail off with the relic.

  ‘I’m not going to tell you again. I will shoot.’

  He will, the demon told her. What are you going to do? How are you going to get the boat started?

  Sadie took another step backwards. The policeman held his gun out to his right, towards the river, and pulled the trigger.

  ‘Walk back towards me,’ he instructed.

  Pathetic, the relic chided.

  Shut up, Sadie thought. She understood now what it was doing; it wasn’t mocking her, it was goading her on. It knew her better than she had thought.

  ‘This is a bomb.’ She lifted the satchel from her hip and held it out in front of her. ‘This is a bomb,’ she said again, with more conviction this time. ‘Get any closer and I’ll blow us both into little pink pieces.’

  The policeman wavered. He probably didn’t believe her, but he wasn’t going to take the risk. She took another step backwards, testing him. The gun lowered, then snapped back up at her.

  ‘Put the bag down,’ the cop ordered. ‘If that is a bomb, I really will have to shoot you.’

  Sadie winced. ‘Okay, fair call, so it’s not a bomb.’

  Then, from behind her, came the splutter and throb of an engine. Both Sadie and the policeman turned to see her uncle’s boat pull free from the crowded jetty, nudging its neighbours aside. That nudge ran like a shiver along the walkway. At its end, a boat lurched forward, knocking the policeman off his feet.

  Sadie turned and ran. The boat was already some distance from its dock, heading out into dark waters.

  ‘Stop!’

  The policeman was feeling about in the shallows for his gun. Abandoning the search, he ran, limping, towards her.

  Sadie dived, clutching the satchel to her chest. She surfaced quickly and began swimming sidestroke after the departing boat. The policeman reached the empty dock and paused, glancing at the neighbouring yachts, which seemed to tremble in anticipation. Biting down on his resolve, he threw himself in after her, but his plastic raincoat hampered his breaststroke and he floundered in the dark waters.

  Sadie swam frantically, kicking with desperation. Finally, she drew up alongside the boat and two hands reached down to help her up. Tom.

  ‘I ran for the river,’ he said, breathless. ‘Swam out.’

  ‘How long do we have?’ she asked.

  ‘An hour fifteen. We’ll make it.’

  He pulled her up onto the deck. Sadie lay, flat on her back, laughing with relief. Her breathing calmed, but she stayed where she was: in a moment’s stillness, watching the sky begin to change colour.

  They raced the sun west around the curves of the Swan River, heading for the ocean. Under Tom’s control, the boat zigzagged across bends and cut every corner. Sadie sat on the deck, hugging her knees to stop herself rocking.

  Finally, they reached the harbour at Fremantle, where the river surrendered them to the sea. Pale light was spreading across the green water. The sheep ships and cargo vessels sat high in their docks, threatening to topple over. The harbour was utterly still.

  They passed one of the abandoned lighthouses on its rocky spit, where a faded sign welcomed sailors. And then the harbour was gone and they were in open sea. The swell lifted the boat up into the rain, then changed its mind. Suddenly, the rain stopped. A white haze fell over the city and its suburbs, stretching east towards the hills. Outside the city limits, clear, purple skies revealed the first moments of a warm morning. Waves were golden tipped. It was dawn.

  Tom switched off the engine and they coasted on, sliding over the swell. Leaning on the pilot rail, he looked across at Sadie. ‘Five twenty-nine,’ he said. ‘Did we make it?’

  Sadie knelt down and picked up the satchel. As she tried to stand, the boat lurched, knocking her back onto the deck. The ocean was moving beneath them, not in its usual soporific rhythm, but in a panicked rush. Sadie could see the waters pulling back from the shore, like a clumsy magician might tug at a tablecloth. The yacht was being dragged with them, spinning and lurching as it hurtled out to sea.

  Tom’s jaw went slack. ‘Sades?’

  Sadie saw it then, rising up before them. The ocean creased in a towering ridge of blue water that blotted out the horizon. The wave was soon ten, twenty metres tall.

  Sadie swallowed hard. They were too late. The Drowners were really going to do it. With one hand clinging hard to the guide-rail, she pulled the relic from the satchel. Her fingers prised at the lid, but it remained stuck fast.

  ‘Okay, we’re here,’ she said. ‘I release you, you’re free. Come on, save us. Please.’

  She couldn’t be sure if the wave was rushing towards them, or they were rushing towards it. It didn’t matter. Within seconds they would be shattered like a pair of crash-test dummies.

  Her nails dug at the edges of the lid. It wouldn’t budge. The relic was cold in her hands.

  ‘It won’t open!’ she told Tom. ‘I can’t even hear it anymore. It’s not saying anything.’

  Time didn’t slow down, as Sadie imagined it might at the end. There weren’t a few final, slow moments for her to consider her fate. The wave was upon them, tilting the stern back into the water. She clung to the railing and closed her eyes.

  Nothing happened.

  Sadie opened her eyes. Her reflection blinked at her, trembling on a wall of water. The boat’s prow sent ripples across its surface.

  She turned back to see Tom standing wide-eyed at the helm.

  Sadie turned the relic over in her hands. ‘Maybe that’s it. Maybe it saved us. Maybe we’re okay.’

  ‘Um, Sades?’ Tom’s right hand flapped in the direction of the stalled tsunami. A cluster of dark shapes could be seen behind its surface. There were a dozen of them, maybe more. Within moments, the first had burst free, landing on the deck with a roar of triumph. Another touched down on the bow, and two more in the stern. One dropped beside Tom, its blue hand drawing a ragged blade from his rotting belt. Grey lips peeled back on blackened teeth.

  Now Sadie could hear the demon again. And it was laughing.

  Good girl, it said. You brought me home.

  Before she could say anything, a cold, soggy palm was pressed over her mouth and she was pulled backwards over the railing. And into the water.

  23

  THE SMOKELESS FLAME

  Sadie expected to drown. Her shoulders shook as she gasped for air. But opening her eyes, she found herself alone in a bubble of air. All around her was dark water. Above her, the morning sun flickered, retreating. There was no sign of Tom.

  Her ears popped. She was being pulled rapidly downwards. A Drowner’s narrow fingers tugged at her tight bubble of safety.

  Occasionally a curious fish swam in her direction, then peeled away. A stingray glided above her—it was the most graceful bird she’d ever seen. Her attackers were no less graceful. They moved through the depths like they themselves were the currents, their mouths in silent song.

  Then she saw it: the drowned city with its weathered coral towers and turrets, and limestone houses painted with algae and roofed with seaweed. Even in the murky light, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen—still, silent, and utterly serene. Brownish reeds drifted like long grass in a summer breeze. Sadie forgot her panic and felt a pang of sadness—not for the city’s cursed citizens, but for herself, that she would never live somewhere so tranquil.

  As she drifted on, a small figure bobbed up beside her, peering in. It was a child, but its once full cheeks were pallid and puckered. Wide, pale eyes regarded her, and a small hand—th
ree of its fingers worn back to clean bone—pressed against the bubble’s thin membrane. A tall woman swam up, snatched back the hand and tugged the child away. As they disappeared, they turned back for a final look at their visitor. It was a look of hope, Sadie realised, feeling the weight of the satchel.

  Her bubble was tugged by a sudden current, down towards the black volcanic reef that was the city’s foundation. Sadie plummeted down, then was swept up and carried towards a large, grey stone cathedral. At the last moment, barnacled doors opened and she was sucked into a cavernous space. It was lit only by marbled light through vast, arched windows. The bubble grazed the floor and Sadie found herself stumbling across slimy slate, struggling to hold herself upright. She slipped and a flat palm of water slapped her on the backside, knocking her back onto her feet. Then, finally, she was still. On each side of her, an escort stood to attention.

  The bubble, which had contracted into a tight cocoon around her, continued shrinking. Soon the water kissed her knees and elbows and finally her cheeks. Seawater surged up her nose and down her throat. The satchel dropped from her hands and the relic tumbled out, cracking against the stone floor.

  After everything, this was how she would die, alone on the ocean floor.

  Then the water was gone. It dropped back and rushed away from her, scattering itself to the corners of the room. It scurried into narrow tunnels in the base of the wall, and glistened like dark, watchful eyes.

  Lysandra swept into the chamber, flanked by a dozen guards. She wore a long, flowing gown that seemed to be woven from fine copper wire. The shoulders and breastplate were tarnished by verdigris. Her knotted dark hair had been braided into heavy locks. Craning her neck, she gazed at her visitor in profound fascination. ‘Brave, remarkable girl. I had nearly given up hope.’

  ‘What happened to Tom?’ Sadie asked, wishing she felt as brave as she sounded. When the priestess showed no sign of understanding, she added: ‘My friend. We came here together.’

  ‘The boy? He is unharmed.’

  ‘Okay, that’s something.’ Sadie picked up the box and held it out to Lysandra. ‘I brought you the relic. So you can leave us all alone now. That was the deal, yeah?’

  ‘You deceive no one, child. You didn’t bring my prize, it brought you.’

  ‘The only thing that brought me here was a boat.’

  The priestess nodded, staring hard at Sadie. Her once-dark eyes were clad in a milky film. ‘Maybe you don’t understand yourself well enough to know the truth. It was hunger that brought you here. A desire to change the world. You want the power in that box as badly as I do.’

  She stretched out a long finger and tapped a taloned nail on Sadie’s chin. ‘I was like you once, Sadie. Ready to reach outside my world to find more.’

  Sadie felt she had come prepared for anything but this conversation. She could feel something sour shifting in her gut. ‘I don’t want anything.’ She threw the relic at Lysandra in fury, catching her square on her breastplate. ‘Just take your stupid box and go, okay?’

  Lysandra’s pale eyes flickered at Sadie, but moved quickly to the relic. ‘Oh Sadie. The power inside this box. The possibilities. I will make my people Gods. We will claim this world for our own, claim the stars and the sun and the land and the sea. Claim the sky.’

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters that you’ll start a war?’

  ‘We will win the war.’

  ‘Against the Gods? Yeah, that totally sounds sane.’ Sadie heard her voice tremble, and wished it hadn’t.

  A crowd had gathered in the chamber. Men, women and children took silent places along the walls.

  Lysandra smiled. ‘I feel your fear, Sadie. You have held the box, you know the power it will grant me.’

  Sadie felt her eyes sting and she tightened her jaw. ‘Jake’s dead, remember? If you wanted it open, maybe you shouldn’t have let your stupid pet kill him.’

  But was the box still locked? Sadie couldn’t help staring at it, worrying the lid might lift beneath Lysandra’s fingers.

  The priestess raised her right hand in a grand gesture. The door behind her opened, revealing a shivering wall of water. Two figures crashed through, tumbling onto the slate in a wash of salt and spit and fury. They rolled about, until the larger found his feet and jerked the smaller upright. There was no mistaking the Minotaur, its dark hair matted with blood and seawater, but the second figure made Sadie’s breath snag in her chest.

  It couldn’t be. His jeans were torn and bloody—a horrific gash ran from right knee to hip—and his T-shirt was stained and ragged. His long hair was plastered across his face and his shoulders shook as he fought for breath.

  It was Jake.

  ‘What the hell is she doing here?’ Jake snapped at Lysandra. ‘I told you to leave her on the surface.’

  The priestess smiled palely. ‘She is important to both of us.’ She beckoned for Jake to be brought forward, and he was thrown to his knees beside Sadie.

  Sadie bent down to help him up, but he shrugged her off. She wondered what she had done to make him so angry.

  ‘We saw you,’ Sadie whispered. ‘Agatha said she felt you go.’

  ‘I wouldn’t let him die,’ the priestess said, her hand touching the key strung around her throat. ‘Asterion is a useful servant. Useful but, as you say, stupid. He was told to bring us both the box and its maker. One is useless without the other.’

  Sadie glanced at the Minotaur, towering behind them. Steam curled from its dark nostrils. Asterion. It had a name. It wasn’t just a thing.

  With a jolt, she felt the beast’s dark eyes meet her own.

  Lysandra thrust the box at Jake. ‘Do it. Release our saviour.’

  A murmur passed through the crowd.

  ‘Do it, or we sink her city. Sink your home, as you sank ours.’

  Jake looked at Sadie. His mouth was open, and his eyes were red and desperate. Sadie realised this was why Lysandra had brought her here—as leverage, to ensure Jake set the demon free.

  ‘We had a plan, remember?’ she said. ‘It isn’t too late.’

  A heavy hand snatched at Sadie’s shoulder, pulling her back against the beast’s chest. Her hair was tugged, forcing her head down against her left shoulder and exposing her neck. Her temple cracked against the heavy lock chained around the beast’s shoulders. She could feel its hot breath on her throat.

  Lysandra tutted at Jake. ‘Any trickery and Asterion will tear out the girl’s throat. It will take but a second.’

  ‘Sadie, you should have stayed on the surface,’ Jack said.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Do what you have to do. Don’t worry about me.’

  He looked up at her and offered a sad smile. ‘It’s too late for that.’ He stepped forward, grabbed the relic from Lysandra and tore it open.

  Nothing happened. A gasp escaped the gathered crowd, echoing across the cathedral’s curved ceiling. The box was empty. For a wonderful moment, Sadie thought Jake had fooled them. There was nothing in the box but an old myth.

  But then she saw it, the flicker of a tiny fire, a pilot light for an impending blaze. The flame leapt from the box, skipping across the slate in joyful arcs. Before the stone altar, it erupted into a pillar of fire that scorched the overhead beams. Even the Minotaur recoiled, releasing its grip on Sadie and staggering backwards.

  Lysandra knelt. Every Drowner in the cathedral followed her example. ‘Creature of flame, we have released you from your prison. In return, we ask you to redeem us. Make me your master. Give us back our lives. Give us justice. Give us vengeance on those who sent us to the depths.’

  A wind shifted around the cathedral. To Sadie, it was the demon’s voice, rustling and crackling. ‘Centuries ago, you summoned me. You praised me. You begged me for immortality. Are you unhappy with my generous gift?’

  Lysandra was still
kneeling. ‘My people have suffered for millennia.’

  Sadie felt the demon’s voice against her bare arms. ‘I served you, priestess,’ it said. ‘And my reward was to be imprisoned in a box.’

  Lysandra’s jaw slackened. ‘We have searched for an eternity to set you free.’

  ‘And I have languished in darkness while this world has grown old. Soon the Gods will return to snuff it out. What will happen to me then?’

  ‘Together, we will bring the Gods to their knees. With your power, we will have my revenge on those who wronged us both.’

  ‘To be your servant, I would become a soldier?’

  ‘No,’ Lysandra said. ‘You would become a weapon. A destroyer of Gods.’

  The wind dropped for a moment, as if considering. Then it rushed at Sadie, so forcefully that she flinched. When the demon spoke, she felt the air tremble around her.

  ‘You rescued me. You risked your life to bring me to the water. What would you ask of me?’

  Lysandra’s mouth fell open in horror.

  ‘Enough,’ Jake snapped. ‘She doesn’t want anything, leave her alone.’

  A limb of fire branched away from the column and a small flame darted from it to disappear down Jake’s throat. He gasped, hand to his neck, and found his voice burned out.

  ‘I have no interest in the words of Gods, or their envoys,’ the demon said. ‘You will not speak to me.’

  Jake lifted his chin as a small gesture of defiance.

  ‘The girl is nothing,’ Lysandra said. ‘She is merely a bystander. I freed you. I have earned the right—’

  ‘Silence!’ The demon’s voice tore around the stone walls, then returned to Sadie as a whisper. ‘Tell me what you would ask of me, girl, should I choose you as my master.’

  Sadie blinked. Silenced, Jake couldn’t ask anything of the demon. Either Sadie or Lysandra would become its master. Sadie could ask it to stop the priestess, but what then?

  Sadie looked to Jake, needing him to tell her what to say, but he only smiled. The smile was a poor fit over the troubles beneath.