by Carrie Ryan
It was Serth. He was alive. They were definitely, unequivocally doomed.
“Lift,” Serth’s voice rasped.
Suddenly, the wind caught them, pushing them upward. A strong breeze blew from just the right angle to stabilize them and put them back on course. Fin’s skysails filled, sending them soaring. He yelped with joy as they soared past the lip of the whirlpool.
In moments, the gust had blown them over the burning forest, past the gathering forces of the Rise, and out to the coastline. Fin was relieved to see the Kraken waiting for them, already with anchor weighed and a clear line to the sea. He banked, angling them down toward the ship.
Landing gracefully was impossible, so they tumbled across the deck in a tangle of arms and legs, coming to rest against the steps of the quarterdeck. Remy leaned over the railing, mouth open and gaping.
“Well, this is somewhat unexpected,” she said, gaze lingering on Serth. “What—?”
Fin brushed himself off, helping Marrill to her feet. “A lot,” he said. He spun toward Serth, ready for the Meressian Oracle to change from savior to menace. He found the wizard crumpled in a pile, still and lifeless once more. Whatever power he’d used to save them, it seemed to be gone now. For the moment, then, they were safe.
“I repeat,” Remy said. “What—?”
Fin met Marrill’s eyes. She just shook her head, as if words had failed her. He glanced back toward the shore. Fig stood at the stern, fingers twisted through the rumor vines coiled around the railing, eyes looking lost and beaten. Behind her, smoke curled up into the sky. The sound of the whirlpool growled low in the distance, spinning the Iron Tide out to devour the Stream.
Fin turned back to Remy. He didn’t miss the telltale sign of recent tears. Perhaps the babysitter didn’t need to know how bad things really were just yet.
He raised his arms in a halfhearted shrug. “Mission accomplished?”
Epilogue
Marrill leaned against the stern railing, looking out at the devastation behind them as the Kraken made its way past the rocks of Meres, out toward the open Stream. With a deep sigh, she cradled Karnelius tighter, the feeling of his soft belly fuzz the only thing that gave her any comfort. The rumor vines softly echoed his contented purrs.
On the one hand, at least there was something behind them to see. They’d come to stop the Lost Sun from destroying the Stream, and they’d succeeded. They’d lost nearly everything in the process, however.
Coll was gone, trapped eternally in the tentacles of the Sheshefesh. Annalessa, they now knew, had voluntarily given up her humanity to become one with the Map to Everywhere. Rose, who Annalessa had become, was caged even now in the grasp of the Master of the Iron Ship.
Fin had found his mother, but now she was dead. His people were slaves to their own twins, and the rebellion he’d started had ended as soon as the Salt Sand King returned from his eons-long exile in Monerva.
As for Marrill herself, she’d always assumed the crew of the Kraken would be able to find her a way home—after they figured out a way to cure her mother, of course. Without a wizard or a navigator, she now had no hope of finding either. And of course, they had no power to stop the Iron Tide. No weapon to stave off the Salt Sand King and his invincible army. No means of fighting the Master…
“Oh, Ardent,” she whispered.
“Well, the Naysayer poked Serth a couple of times and we think he’s done for,” Fin announced, slipping up to the rail beside her. “Didn’t want to take a pulse, in case his skin would still freeze me. Or burn me. Or whatever.”
His voice trailed off as his gaze lingered on what lay behind them. Fire raged across the dark woods of Meres, and Marrill could just make out the figures of the Rise silhouetted along the coastline, jumping and cheering as they boarded their ships. At least the Kraken had too good of a head start for them to catch her. According to Remy, the moment the fire began, the Rise had become way more interested in welcoming their lost king than continuing their pursuit of the Kraken.
“I wonder how Vell is doing as the new Crest of the Rise,” Fin offered. He smiled, clearly trying to joke about it.
But Marrill didn’t feel like laughing. “Everything is awful,” she whispered, the words dripping like tears out of her mouth.
Fin put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey, we’ve still got some good things! We’ve got Karny.” He dropped a hand down the cat’s back. “We’ve got the Kraken. We’ve got Remy. We’ve got Fig.” Marrill lifted an eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “You know her, she’s good people, promise,” he said. “We’ve got the Naysayer.”
Marrill groaned. “Okay, that’s a negative,” she teased. Though she had to admit, just the thought of it did make her almost smile.
“We’ve got each other,” Fin offered.
Marrill leaned against him. “Yeah,” she said. “We do have each other. And I guess there’s no one else I’d rather watch the world be destroyed in four different ways with than you.”
Fin laughed. “Thanks,” he said. Marrill couldn’t help but smile. They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the ruined heart of the Stream slip farther and farther away.
Finally, Fin cleared his throat. “What do you think happened back there, anyway? With Ardent?”
Marrill bit her lip, trying to keep her warring emotions at bay. If she let them come all at once, it would just be too much—she would be overwhelmed. “I don’t know.” She shook her head as tears ran down her cheeks.
She couldn’t even think of everything that they’d lost in Ardent. Of what he’d meant to her. Of how he’d betrayed them. She couldn’t even imagine why. She held Karny close, struggling to push the thoughts away.
But there was one thought she couldn’t avoid. One truth she knew she had to face. Because all the devastation before them—the Salt Sand King’s release, the Iron Tide, maybe even going back to the Meressian Prophecy itself—it all came back to the Master of the Iron Ship. Whatever Ardent had put into motion, they had to stop it.
Marrill sucked in a deep breath, feeling it power her resolve. “But we have to find out,” she said sharply.
“Great,” Fin said with a snort. “And how do we do that exactly?”
Marrill felt her willpower collapse into a sigh. “Uhm…”
“You follow him,” a voice answered from behind them. As one, Fin and Marrill whirled around. Serth stood against the windows of Ardent’s cabin. The setting sun shone through from the open door on the other side, backlighting his tall form.
“The whirlpool has taken him back in time.” He swept toward them, dark robes flowing out as he moved. White stars sparkled as he drew closer. “Back to the birth of the Stream.”
Marrill cringed instinctively as the cruel wizard looked down at her and Fin. Black streaks still marked the trails of the tears he’d cried for centuries. But his eyes were calm, collected, severe.
Marrill looked at Fin. Fin looked at Marrill. Together, they looked into the face of the man who had been the worst enemy either of them had ever known.
“To follow him there, you will need a guide,” Serth continued. The once-porcelain skin flushed with the flow of life. “Someone who has been there before.” His mouth trembled into a smile.
“Which,” he said, “I have.”
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
You would think sailing straight into the sun would make it hard to lose your way, but when the water glows like the sky, pretty soon everything looks the same and you’re blind and a bit mad, to boot. Our eternal thanks to our editor, Deirdre Jones, for being the visor that shaded our eyes and showed us the way forward.
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Thanks also to Jenny Choy, Sherri Schmidt, Rosanne Lauer, Annie McDonnell, Sasha Illingworth, Angela Taldone, Virginia Lawther, Kristina Pisciotta, Emilie Polster, Kheryn Callender, and everyone else at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers and Orion’s Children’s Books for keeping the holes plugged and the ship sailing ever forward while we sighted the distant star. And of course, we could never forget chief wizard extraordinaire Victoria Stapleton, who seems to have a quite good relationship with the wind, because she kept it ever at our backs and in our sails.
Also, as always, thanks to Merrilee Heifetz and the good people at Writer’s House, for keeping us cool and composed when the light burned brightest. A special thanks to Cecilia de la Campa for rushing to the rudder when the seas picked up unexpectedly and saving us from being swallowed by the whirlpool we didn’t even know was right in our path.
Todd Harris’s keen eye and unwavering vision managed to sketch the strange shapes revealed by the Lost Sun, no matter how bizarre or terrifying they might be. Without him, the Stream would truly be formless. Red @ 28th and the Flying Biscuit Café gave us a place to lie down in the shade, and Sarah MacLean, Beth Revis, Diana Peterfreund, Ally Carter, Rose Brock, Brendan Reichs, Renee Ahdieh, the folks at Bat Cave, Phillip Lewis, Ross Richardson, and all the folks at FDWNC helped us suss out the meaning in the shadows we saw there.
Our families, as always, were water for our parched lips; without them, the trip would scarcely have been worth making. A very special thanks to Corey Sell for demanding a talking cat—even if we couldn’t quite give him a flying one.
More than anyone, however, we want to thank all our readers, for walking into the sun with us. A special shout-out to Rachel Hester, who we have never met, but whose courage and humor is visible from far beyond the horizon. Also to Jacki Altmeyer and her book club at St. Patrick’s Elementary in Dilworth for showing us places on the Stream we had never imagined (though Ardent, of course, had been to all of them).
Finally, we can’t end this journey without acknowledging the friend we lost along the way. To Heather Heady—for everything you did, for all the support you gave, and most of all, for caring. You are missed. May your light never fade.
