She stood beside him for a time, her hand on his shoulder, but Iliff felt her weariness. He kissed her and bade her retire for the night. He watched her pull the cabin door to. Then he was alone. He fixed his gaze before the barge, where the lantern’s light swirled over the rising sea and pushed against the gathering dark. He could only hope that Skye was right, that Depar was still somewhere before him.
I feel him when I sleep.
He frowned toward the cabin. She had never been able to feel someone who had passed. What did it mean that she could do so now?
Iliff was startled from the thought by a jarring bang. The sail flapped in anger, and he saw that they had been knocked off course. A sudden swell, he guessed. He dug the oar into the water, waiting for the swell to wash over the deck and drain between the planks at his feet. But his feet remained dry. Iliff steered the barge straight, then looked out into the lantern light. The sea rolled calmly. Iliff peered all around, his heart suddenly loud in his ears.
There had been no swell.
He tried to see into the darkness. Waves lapped along the sides of the barge. He heard the water churn to his right, but when he turned, he could see nothing in the night.
He adjusted his grip on the oar handle, feeling as though the eyes of the Great Sea itself were upon him. At this thought, a shadow passed before the barge, just beyond the lantern light. It appeared to Iliff like a cliff side, and he hoped it was some trick of the mist. Nothing could be that large. As the shadow continued to play out, the water churned to his left.
Iliff jerked his head there. Suddenly, all of the movements of the barge ceased. From beneath the timbers came the same scraping Iliff had heard the night before, long and low. He held to the oar with both hands.
Are there such things as monsters?
At last the scraping trailed off. It was not until their rocking resumed that Iliff realized the entire barge had risen above whatever had just swum underneath them.
Iliff steered the barge back on course. He looked again to the lantern at the front of the barge. Should he extinguish all of the lights, he wondered? Would they be safer in the dark? He listened, but heard nothing now save the sea around them. He decided to keep the lanterns lit. Whatever danger they faced, none stood greater than passing Depar’s skiff in the night.
He roused Tradd around midnight.
“It has been mostly quiet,” he told him. “Be sure to call to me if you see or hear anything.”
Tradd rubbed his knuckles into his eyes and nodded. Iliff lay awake in bed, listening. But the rest of the night passed without event, and sometime near morning, he drifted into uneasy sleep.
Chapter 16
Late on the following day, their fourth one at sea, something appeared from the mist. Iliff rose into a half stand. In the distance, it appeared ghost-like, a feature of the mist itself. It was so tenuous that Iliff did not dare glance away, not even for an instant, for fear that it would slip back into the gray. Only when he had steered the barge up behind it and the last scarves of mist had fallen from its sides did Iliff allow himself to believe. He called Skye and Tradd from their cabins.
“There,” Iliff said, pointing.
They turned their heads to where the skiff drifted perhaps thirty meters before them. The lantern that swung from the skiff’s rear still cast its small light, as though ignorant of time and the elements.
“Depar’s boat!” Tradd cried.
“You see,” Skye said, turning to Iliff with a smile. “We were not so lost.”
They spent the final hour before dark setting the sail such that it would keep pace with the skiff. Skye checked its lantern, reporting back that it was almost as full of oil as when she had placed it there on the first night. As dusk gathered, the seas rolled calmly and the skiff before them swelled with light. Iliff relaxed his grip on the oar handle, feeling as though barge and skiff were tethered fast by wind and current. Skye fell asleep beside him, bundled within her blanket. Iliff gestured for Tradd to take the steering oar.
“Why does she sleep so much?” Tradd asked.
“It’s the journey,” Iliff whispered, lifting Skye into his arms. “It is harder on her.”
Tradd’s brow bent as Iliff turned with her. He is right to be concerned, Iliff thought as he propped open the cabin door with his leg and carried her inside. She had only remained awake half of the day. And even while awake, fatigue circled her eyes and drew her small frame forward. Iliff thought again of the words of the old Garott woman. How much time did they have? he wondered. How many more days until she would not awaken at all?
Iliff tucked Skye in their bed, then lay on his side facing her. The light from Depar’s skiff filtered between the boards behind her, casting a soft nimbus along the side of her face. Iliff brushed her fine hair over the back of her ear. He did this many times until he, too, fell asleep.
That night, Iliff dreamt that Depar was standing in the skiff before them. He was not old and blind, as Iliff had known him, but young and strong. He stood statue-like, his face without expression, the wind streaming his fair hair. His blue eyes shone through the mist.
Iliff waved to him.
The arm Depar lifted was still draped in the white funeral vestments. He beckoned the barge nearer. Iliff looked to the sail to ensure it stood full. When he lowered his eyes again, the skiff was drifting away.
“Wait!” he cried.
Depar continued to beckon, even as he diminished. Remain close, his voice whispered over the sea. Remain close. We will have only a moment to pass… only a moment to pass… remain close…
Iliff opened his eyes.
“Iliff,” a voice whispered.
Two yellow crescents blinked from the darkness above.
“Yes?” he answered.
“The skiff. I… I can’t see it anymore.”
In a single movement, Iliff was out of bed and through the cabin door. Tradd emerged onto the deck behind him.
“It was there just a second ago,” he said, “and then suddenly it wasn’t.”
Holding to the side of the cabin, Iliff looked to the front of the barge and then to the rear. He climbed the ladder to the masthead. The sail was as full as when he had gone to bed hours before. They had not deviated. At the masthead, Iliff turned a full circle, but still nothing appeared from the night.
“The skiff didn’t move,” Tradd continued to plead. “It just disappeared.”
“It’s all right,” Iliff said when he climbed down. “The lantern on the skiff probably went out. Let’s set up lights on the front of the barge and open the sail a little. When we reach the skiff, we’ll change the old lantern for a fresh one.”
Tradd began to nod, then raised his eyes past Iliff.
“There it is,” he said.
Iliff turned. Sure enough, Depar’s skiff swam before them. Its light, made spectral by the night mist, rose and fell with the sea. A calm sea, thought Iliff. There were no waves to rise between barge and skiff. And if one had done so, they would have felt it.
“A strange business,” he muttered. He turned back to Tradd. “I’m going to put a lantern up front anyway so we can better see out before us. Why don’t you get back to the oar. I’ll relieve you shortly.”
Tradd nodded and plodded toward the rear. Iliff followed him as far as the storage cabin and went inside for a lantern. He was preparing to step back onto the deck when Tradd cried out.
“It’s gone again, Iliff! The skiff’s gone!”
Once more, the sea was dark before them. It was the lantern, Iliff decided. Water had likely seeped into the burner so that the flame was alternately consuming oil and choking on moisture.
“Iliff…”
“It’s all right,” he called over his shoulder. “The lantern just needs changing.”
“There’s something out there.”
Iliff stopped. On the verge of the lantern’s light, sea and foam cascaded down the side of something that was still rising. Iliff dropped the lantern and stumbled backward u
ntil he was almost between the cabins. The living wall extended in both directions, curling inward as though to embrace their vessel. The barge pitched suddenly and sea water rushed onto the deck. The water shone for a moment before drowning the dropped lantern and turning black.
Behind him, Tradd stifled a cry. Iliff turned to see him standing with the splintered end of the oar handle, its blade broken away. An enormous gray body bulged against the rear of the barge.
“What… what is it?” Tradd asked, still backing away.
“I’m not sure.”
They stood in the middle of the gangway, the planks compressing around them. Muscles shuddered beneath the creature’s wrinkled hide, and the air turned foul. A timber below Iliff’s feet whined, then snapped. He seized the oar handle from Tradd and lunged at the creature. The sharp end broke against its skin, and the handle fell to the deck in pieces. Iliff recoiled into Tradd’s arms. Another timber cracked.
“It’s destroying the barge!” Tradd cried.
Iliff looked about, then called for Tradd to follow him. He grabbed two jugs of lantern oil from the supply cabin, which was leaning now. He handed one jug out to Tradd and held tight to the other.
“Get as much on it as you can,” Iliff shouted. “All the way around!”
Tradd nodded. They began at the rear of the barge, moving out in opposite directions. Oil spit from the mouths of their jugs. Iliff clambered onto the supply cabin and threw the oil high onto the creature’s back. The oil glistened down its hide. From his vantage, Iliff despaired to see the enormity of the creature’s coil, for it wound around the barge several times. Iliff climbed down to the front of the ship, where Tradd soon joined him, his luminous eyes peering all around.
The sail above them had gone slack, Iliff saw. He imagined the gusty sea beyond, where Depar’s skiff drifted on. Another timber snapped, and he and Tradd stumbled for balance. Sea water bubbled up between the boards of the deck.
Iliff seized the lantern from the cabin door. “Brace yourself!” he called to Tradd.
With that, he drew back the lantern and hurled it against the creature. The lantern shattered into orange flames. Iliff crouched to the deck as the fire sputtered and fell, but slowly it rose again, crawling out along the creature’s sides, igniting the oil in small bursts. Tradd’s face glowed as he looked on. The fire grew taller and brighter, revealing every detail of the creature’s hide now, down to the barnacles that erupted along its many fissures.
Iliff gritted his teeth, willing the creature to release them, willing it back under the water.
But the creature did not descend. And just as the smoke above the flames turned black, there came a monstrous scream. The supply cabin snapped and toppled. Boards skittered past where Iliff fell. His gaze flew to the cabin where Skye slept. It was beginning to falter as well.
Another scream tore the air above him.
“Iliff!” Tradd yelled.
Iliff turned just as a stone-like head shot down. He rolled flush against the cabin and peeked beneath his arm, straight into the blaze of an obsidian eye. The creature reared and, in a single swipe, severed the masthead. The topmost timbers swung from ropes. The creature’s second swipe collided with the main mast. Tradd stood and caught the pole before it toppled. The creature tilted its serpentine head, and Iliff watched it wind around until it was directly over Tradd.
“Let go of the mast!” Iliff called. “Stay down!”
The serpent hesitated, tilting its head once more.
“Down, Tradd! Get down!”
Iliff’s shouts collided with Tradd’s, and Iliff realized too late that the serpent had wound behind him. It struck Iliff’s shoulder, knocking him to the deck. In almost the same instant, there sounded a loud crack. Debris rained down and the heavy sail fell over Iliff’s back.
He squirmed to the verge of the sail, expecting at any moment to be crushed in the serpent’s jaws. Wood splinters and what felt like shattered glass stuck his arms. When he emerged beside the sleeping cabin, he found Tradd pointing the fractured pole toward the serpent’s head as it swayed back and forth, black blood dripping from its mouth. Tradd had dealt it a mighty blow. But Iliff also noticed fluid bubbling from the serpent’s hide now, drowning the flames. His plan had failed.
In one deft move, the creature snatched the mast in its mouth and wrenched it from Tradd’s grasp. The mast shot into the air, the creature rising with it. It stopped and shook pieces of timber from its fractured teeth. Iliff and Tradd picked up whatever debris they could find to defend themselves before crouching amid the wreckage of the mast. The serpent’s head descended in a slow sway. With the fire burning low, its eyes appeared hard and dim.
Iliff signaled for Tradd to stay still, then closed his own eyes.
Slowly, he reached out with his awareness, just as Skye had taught him. Reached out until he felt the dim, aquatic swirls of the creature’s intelligence. He eased inside of it, his head filling with sensations of the deep sea and dark caverns. And then he found what he had been seeking. A plate, a single, hard plate. And upon that plate he could see the wreckage of the barge. The image was small and indistinct, almost dimensionless. Iliff reached forward and blotted out the entire plate.
As the image went dark, Iliff sensed the creature’s confusion.
But the plate had been small, he thought. Too small. And he knew with a sudden, dreaded certainty that the creature had other means by which it sensed. But Iliff could not perceive them. He did not know where to look. And now he could hear the scraping of air inside stony nostrils. Iliff swam through its awareness, searching, searching, but fear was dissolving his focus. He could feel the breaths above him now, could feel them stirring his hair.
Inside the creature came a sharp glint of recognition. And before Iliff could cry out a warning, a white starburst exploded over everything.
* * *
When Iliff opened his eyes, the afterimage of the bright light remained. He tried to blink it away, but it reappeared each time to blind him. Iliff stopped and listened. He sensed darkness beyond the afterimage. Absolute darkness. The flames were gone now, the stench of burning hide so faint that Iliff wondered whether it were just residue on his palate. For beyond this, Iliff could taste salt and sea wind.
He pushed himself from the wreckage until he was standing in water to his ankles. He felt the barge rising and falling in a lopsided rhythm.
“Tradd?” he called.
Tradd grunted from nearby.
“Are you hurt?” Iliff asked.
“No, I’m all right,” Tradd said. “Are… are we safe?”
“I think so.”
Iliff heard Tradd splash to his feet. The barge groaned and listed.
“Can you see anything?” Iliff asked.
“No, too dark.”
Iliff blinked again, and though the afterimage remained, it was fading, becoming brown. He felt his way toward Tradd. He knew only that they were standing at the front of the barge, near the ruined mast. He could not tell which direction they faced.
“Skye!” he called.
“Skye!” Tradd shouted.
A light flared in front of them.
“I’m here,” she said.
Her frail figure stood in the doorway of the cabin. All around, wreckage scraped and shifted. Iliff met Skye as she waded to the front of the barge, the lantern held before her. He caught her when she stumbled.
“You’re injured,” he said.
“No, Iliff, just weary.” She smiled up at him. “I’m afraid that took everything I had.”
“That was your doing?”
“Its screams woke me from my sleep, thank goodness. I tried to manipulate its emotions, to incite fear in its mind, but it was too ancient a creature. Almost as ancient as the Sea. It would not yield to me.” Skye closed her eyes, and Iliff saw that she was succumbing to her weariness. “But then I felt you inside of it, Iliff. I pushed our shared presence outward, pushed as forcefully as I could. The power of it shocked the creature
’s senses. It fell into the water and fled down. Back to the depths from which it had come… back to its black cave.”
Iliff held the side of her face.
“We are safe,” she murmured.
Iliff looked from Skye to the sea around them. The serpent was gone, yes. But so too was Depar’s skiff.
Chapter 17
Morning dawned on their ruined barge.
Iliff and Tradd righted and repaired what they could. Using planks from the supply cabin, they fashioned new mast poles, fastening them to the splintered stumps of the old ones before lashing them together at the top. Next, they spread the sail. It had suffered only small tears, fortunately, and Iliff sewed these closed. Once aloft, the sail held the wind, and the makeshift poles the sail, but they had no means by which to steer to barge.
Once more they looked to the fallen supply cabin for the remedy, finding it in the form of another plank and the top of the barrel that held their fresh water. It took some rigging to get the new oar to remain in the tholepins, but once there, the shaft and oak-barrel blade stood up to the sea.
Iliff swung the barge around until the sail filled, but the barge still sat crooked and half-sunken. The enormous timbers on which the barge rested shook and rolled. Several had broken free of their tethering. Water spewed from beneath the barge in places and foamed onto the deck.
Tradd tied a rope around his waist.
“What are you doing?” Iliff asked from the steering oar.
The rope ran to the side of the barge, and Tradd tugged it now to see that it was secure. More lengths of rope hung in coils from his upper arm. “If we don’t get the raft back together, the sea will pull it to pieces.”
“You’re going underwater?”
“I helped build this barge,” Tradd said, a touch of defiance in his voice. “I know what needs repairing.”
Iliff looked on him. He had made mistakes with Troll on their journey through the forest. He did not want to make the same mistakes with Tradd. After all, he had said it himself: Tradd was no longer a boy.
“All right,” Iliff said. “But be careful.”
Final Passage (The Prisoner and the Sun #3) Page 10
