by T. K. Kiser
“Listen to me. The ship has been struck. We are sinking.”
“Then help him!” It was her first instinct, but with fading heart, she realized that freeing David from the flooding room wouldn’t do any good when the ship sank.
“I will.” But Alviar didn’t move. “This is no normal storm.”
Carine found tears in her eyes. Thank the flames it was dark. Lightning flashed, but if Alviar saw her tears, he did not blame her.
“Do you understand what I mean when I say this is an emergency?”
Thunder.
“Where’s David?” Giles yelled suddenly in the darkness, his voice frantic. For all the days that Carine had seen Giles on the ship, she had never once heard his voice crack that way. This frantic Giles was odd and heartbreaking.
“I’ve got him,” Alviar boomed over his shoulder. “Arm yourself, young prince! Put on arms, and protect His Highness!” He turned to Carine. “The bow is hidden in the crew chamber, under my pillow. Go!”
“It’s enchanted,” she protested, but Alviar was already leaving her. She splashed onto the deck as he let her go.
“You know nothing,” he said, already quieting as he went for David.
“I don’t get involved with magic! Send someone else!”
But as the rain pounded the deck and the back of her hands and water flooded the walkway, no one else was being sent.
18 First Wish
At the back of the crew’s chamber between the last two bunks was a strange creation. The object was a divan, a stand like a short kneeler with a plush top. Centaurs folded their legs under themselves, then propped themselves up with the divan, folded their arms over the top, and slept the night with their heads on their arms.
The centaur’s pillow sat on the top of the divan between both rows of bunks. Pillows and blankets had rolled off the bed in the storm and were scattered across the floor. Carine knelt at the stand, water over her knees and calves. Her forearms rested against the pillow. Biting her lips, she lifted the pillow.
There lay a small recurve bow with a blue bowstring as thin as thread. David said that to pluck that string was to call for help. Carine didn’t even want to touch it, let alone pluck it.
Thunder roared outside.
Was there a chance—a wish—that Alviar was right? Could there be both good and evil magic?
According to Alviar, and to David it seemed, this bow was just as magical as the most ordinary bow. According to them, everything in life came forth from one single enchantment. Carine had always thought that to touch an enchanted object, wishstone, or Manakor word would lead to death soon after.
But now, she’d die anyway.
The bow was light. It was strange, holding an object in her hands that was dusted with enchantment that fell from the dragon’s wings. She wished that whatever effect the bowstring had, it would be quick. That the winds would still and the boat survive. That David would heal and that the princes would feel friendship for her as she did for them.
She plucked the bowstring as hard as she could without breaking it. She held her breath. The thread left a flat indent on her finger, but no sound emitted. The wind howled outside and the water was still rising.
It hadn’t worked.
Carine let the string hang on her fingers as she stood. She fought the water all the way to the door. Alviar had to fix the bowstring. She opened the door. Rain and waves flooded in.
A lightning flash illuminated a line of silhouettes, notably those of a centaur and three princes standing—David was standing!—at the edge of the ship, looking over.
Darkness, thunder.
“David! Giles!” she yelled, but they didn’t hear her.
She slogged through moving water, wishing that her steps would bring her closer to them and that she wouldn’t be swept out to sea. The bow hung in her hand.
Fresh water fell. Salt water sprayed.
Crack.
Lightning dazzled the mast. A bolt lit up that pole like a candlestick. The wood split, broke, and fell, crashing down on half the deck. Carine opened her eyes, unharmed, but the ship was doomed.
“Carine?” The voice belonged to Giles.
“Are you okay?” It was David.
Carine waded over the deck until two hands grabbed her arms. One belonged to each of the princes. At the next flash of lighting, their faces lit up. David was hunched over but managing to smile, as though he were trying to comfort her, even now. Giles was serious, with the intent gaze of a teacher.
“Alviar!” Carine shouted beside them. He turned. “The bow didn’t work!”
Alviar nodded and leapt into the sea.
Darkness. Carine shrieked.
Giles’ voice: “You plucked the string, didn’t you? We are jumping overboard on the count of three.”
“What? There’s lightning.”
“Take her hand,” David said, his fingers locking around her palm. Giles took her other hand. “Alviar knows what he’s doing.”
Carine swallowed and agreed.
“So we need to act quickly,” said Giles. “One… two…three!”
She and the boys jumped, suspended in the howling wind. Before she knew it, Carine’s run turned into a fall. The water rose around them as she crashed into the deep.
The Vualtic Ocean sucked them in.
19 The Strangest Kiss
Carine gasped. The ocean water gripped her throat like a fist. Spray splattered her eyes as the waves tried to swallow the rest of the boat. She forced her eyes open, but the salt stung. Her hands thrashed about but didn’t keep her afloat. Lightning struck again.
David and Giles treaded nearby. Their hands had unclasped on impact, and now the ship towered over them, threatening to topple over them.
“Where’s Alviar?” Carine yelled. She choked on the water as the ship swung closer.
Giles’ eyes widened as the ship approached. Above them, Prince Marcel and the crewmates abandoned ship one by one.
Under the surface, something touched Carine’s ankle. “What was that?”
Giles looked down, so mortified that his voice squeaked. “You feel something?”
“It’s not sharks, Giles,” David said.
But before he could explain, the storm went silent. Carine hadn’t the time to even take a final breath before she was underwater. Panic rose in her lungs as she realized that no fish had grazed her leg. Instead, fingers wrapped around her ankle. She tried to open her eyes, but the sting of the salt was too strong. The thing pulled her deeper. The water got cold as her ears popped like corn.
She forced her eyes open. In a flash, all she saw were orbs of glowing light: orange, green, and pink. In front of the nearest light flicked the tail of a powerful fish.
Her head pounding, her heart felt suddenly light in exuberance. These were merfolk, the same creatures that drowned sailors and ransomed passing kings. The merfolk in the south were the dangerous kind. They were the ones that lured sailors off their ships with affectionate gazes and their songs. The merfolk here were supposed to be more fishlike. Carine had heard they were powerful but lacked any other details.
Carine almost forgot she was drowning.
Lips.
It was almost like a kiss. If it could count, it would be Carine’s first. But kiss was a generous description of the exchange. The merperson’s face pressed into hers, but their lips did not lock the way she’d pictured a kiss to be. Instead, the lips closed and opened against hers. Immediately, her lungs’ desperation subsided.
Carine’s captor—rescuer?—moved his face away. His hair was long on the crown of his head, so the strands acted almost like a fin as they swayed in the water. He wore necklaces and bangles galore, as merfolk were famous for doing, and his tail was the brightest, richest, red-orange she had ever seen.
“Stay here,” the merman said.
His voice was clear, almost heavenly, not at all the vocal quality she’d expect underwater. He swam back to the surface for more men.
The sting
ing in Carine’s eyes had disappeared completely. Even the dark sea looked brighter. Above them, the hull of the ship seemed small. Her panic dissipated as her body felt its needs being met.
Just as faunfolk could make flowers dance, merfolk had a special power too. They could give the gift of breathing underwater with a single kiss. Didda had told her stories of when Granddad was a sailor. Once, Granddad’s captain had tried to avoid paying the hefty stamp fee that the merfolk required on each hull. Granddad hadn’t traveled a full day before a band of merfolk enforcers threw grappling hooks over the ship and threatened to sink it. The crew members surrendered; they each got a kiss, but the gift only lasted twenty-four hours. Didda said that that was the scariest day of Granddad’s life—next to his wedding day. The crew was netted under the ship, knowing that they would drown if the merfolk didn’t receive a suitable ransom in time.
Now, two merfolk escorted David and Giles to the survivors. Their hair danced in the water, giving them an eerie, regal way about them. Giles was wearing his indigo cape. It floated serenely behind him as his eyes darted around the scene, looking for clues or something. Carine swam closer, marveling.
“Did you hit your head?” David smirked, alluding to her goofy smile. His voice too, had an echoing quality that made it sound surreal.
Carine tried to scowl, but instead she gaped at one of the underwater lanterns that cast all of them into a bright neon glow. As she looked closer she found it to be a squishy orb, and within it, a bright pink fish.
“How did they do this?” she asked herself, watching the fish turn calmly within the spectacular orb. Her voice rebounded fluidly.
From the surface, which silently raged overhead, Alviar swam. His torso leaned downward as his horse legs kicked. His white hair looked pink and orange in the light that the merfolk brought. It splayed marvelously as he ebbed toward them. Prince Marcel followed drowsily. His face was much less impressive and charming up close.
“You must be Alviar.” The speaker had a peaceful grin and eyes that shone like moons. The skin of the merman’s face was brown like a ray, but his tail gradually ran bright orange, like gold coins instead of scales. The merman outstretched a bangle-covered forearm to Alviar.
Alviar cradled his hand and bowed. “Thabo, it is an honor to meet you at last.”
20 Second Chance
“The joy is mine.” Thabo the merman smiled. He stretched his arms wide, making him big in every direction, as his hair, bound into ten tight ropes, framed his face. “You all are welcome here.” Carine, the princes, and the crew members were gathered around. Thabo’s smile faded as he met the eyes of the princes. “But I presume you will not stay.”
“I am His Majesty Prince Giles of Navafort.” Giles raised his chin, wondering perhaps why Thabo introduced himself to Alviar instead of the princes, which was strange, since even though they were underwater, Giles’ cape and David’s crest clearly identified their status.
“I can see that,” Thabo answered. Something glimmered on Thabo’s wrist. At first, Carine assumed it was one of his bracelets. But it didn’t move. It was tattooed there: a written word in the loops of the dragon language. On his wrist was that same tongue inscribed on wishstones and burned into Esten walls by Kavariel when he came.
“Thank you,” David added, trying to cut the tension. “You saved our lives.”
Thabo smiled. “Extended them, perhaps. But lives are pesky things aren’t they? They cannot be saved.”
Alviar pushed the water away with his hands to float on Thabo’s same plane. “Did you notice the storm?”
“The five of us had already come to examine it before you called.” Among the five were Thabo, Carine’s rescuer, the twins’ rescuers, and one more. She realized now that they all had a word written on their wrists. As happy as she was that the bowstring worked after all, this new discovery made her uneasy. Who were these people?
“That work takes great power,” Alviar said.
“Indeed,” Thabo said. “Seeing as none of us have such power, how can we assist you?”
“We must deliver His Highness Prince Marcel to Ilmaria,” Alviar answered.
“Very well, I will make the arrangements.”
“But I’m not going with them,” David said. Thabo turned in surprise. “Sir, I shouldn’t have abandoned my kingdom. I need to go back.” His eyes drifted to Alviar, but the tutor, to Carine’s surprise, nodded his approval. The mission—delivering Prince Marcel to Ilmaria—would not be threatened now if David returned.
Since they were in the middle of the ocean, Carine, the princes, and all who were talking formed a sphere of conversation instead of the normal circle. Prince Giles’ arms rotated to keep afloat above them.
“And what exactly do you hope to accomplish, David? Grandfather sent you away. You have not passed your weapons training, and you could never compete with the Heartless Ones.”
“I’ll figure something out,” David retorted.
Prince Giles wasn’t convinced. “If you insist on being stupid about it, then I’m coming with. Face it. You could never defeat a Heartless One without my help.”
Limly swam up from where he had been sinking. “Wait! Wait! Alviar may be tasked with Prince Marcel’s safety, but I’m tasked with yours, Your Majesties. You cannot go back to that place.”
“He’s right,” Carine said, realizing suddenly that if the princes went back to Esten, she would be alone as she waited for its safety. “You’ll be safe in Ilmaria.”
“Sorry, Carine, but we’re not changing our minds. Alviar, you’ll make sure Carine is okay, won’t you?” David said.
Alviar bowed consent.
“Karin,” Thabo said, gazing into Carine’s eyes. “Your name means the lonely in Manakor. Did you know that?” She didn’t nor did she like that meaning. “The lonely…the question is, is that your origin or your fate?”
Limly raised a finger, stroking with his other hand. “I’m going with you, Your Majesties. If you insist on going, then I’m coming along.”
Thabo’s eyes sparkled in the ocean’s glow. “In that case, here is your transport.” He gestured deeper, to a large metal cone that awaited them on the ocean floor. The merfolk lifted it to reveal a bar that went lengthwise across it and a net that plumed out behind it.
“I’ve heard of these,” David said, eyes dancing. “The merfolk hold onto the bar and swim while we hang onto the net. They’re even faster than ships.” The crew swam down to the net and started taking hold.
“Another transport will be along shortly for you,” Thabo said to Carine, Alviar, and the others that would continue to Ilmaria.
David turned to her. “We’ll find your parents. I promise.”
But that wasn’t enough. When David and Giles found her parents, she would be so far south that the news would take weeks to reach her. After that, she would have to wait for word of safety, and only then could she meet up with them—if they were alive.
It also meant never seeing the princes again.
“Actually,” Carine said to David and Giles, “I’m going back to Esten too.”
Giles scowled. “You do realize that there is magic in Esten, more than ever before?”
“I know.” Carine swallowed hard. “All I’ve ever wanted was to be safe from magic with my family.” It was starting to look like too much to ask. Carine had almost drowned on the ship. She couldn’t fight with a sword. She would face many dangers in Ilmaria while she waited for Esten’s liberation. “If nowhere is safe, and there is no escape from magic, I can at least be with my family.”
“So you’re going back to Esten?” David repeated.
Carine nodded. “It’s time I find my parents.”
21 Just in Case
The merfolk were like a machine. Six of them held the bar on the metal cone and pulsed with their bodies. They hurtled the cone forward, and the net whipped behind them. Carine’s fingers curled around the net from the inside. Limly and the two younger princes did the same.
&
nbsp; “Woohoo!” Prince David yelled, and Carine felt herself smiling, exhilarated. It was only the merfolk’s kiss that allowed Carine to see in such dark deep water, and what a gift that vision was. Schools of fish and sea turtles whizzed by. The ground beneath was a mountainscape, full of peaks and valleys that the merfolk zipped around with the same ease as a flock of birds flying through forest branches.
They reached Esten’s shores after hours and hours of breakneck travel. The merfolks’ tails nearly touched the sea floor as they pulled back part of the net and Carine pulled at the water to escape. As light from the surface illuminated her view, a knot formed in her stomach. Under the sea, Carine was safe from the dragon Kavariel.
In Esten, there were Heartless Ones. She would be more vulnerable to more threats than ever. As soon as she found her parents, they would flee—this time, together.
Carine’s head broke the surface, several dozen feet to the port. Only two large ships remained, and the sails of one had been ripped, its sides vandalized.
David broke the surface next, gasping for breath and grinning as soon as he saw Carine. “We made it.”
“Yeah,” she said, “but this is not the quiet Esten we left.”
The torch tower still stood empty, and flags waved above the Bastion, but the sound of the city—even from here—was neither the cheers of Festival celebration nor the silence of a hiding people. Esten roared with angry activity, humming like a hive of bees.
“What’s all this?” Giles slid his hand over his wet hair, slicking it over his head.
“I can’t see anything from here,” Carine said, though the volume of the chatter seemed like shouts.
“How can people feel safe enough to be out in the streets? Esten’s defenses are still down,” Carine said.
“I don’t feel good about this,” David said.
“How you feel is hardly data we can use,” said Giles.
David ignored him. “I’m worried about Grandfather. You don’t think there’s a riot, do you?”
