An Immortal Descent

by Kari Edgren

  I ignored the jibe and nodded toward Donal. “Stay where you are, Captain, or you’ll join your friend.” My gaze darted to his side. “You, too, Calhoun.”

  An evil chuckle crawled up my spine. “Oh, that would be a mistake, me lass. One you’d soon regret, mind you.”

  “Come closer,” I snapped, “and we’ll see who’s making the mistake.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t win, Miss Kilbrid. Put your hands down and step out here so. We won’t be harming you, will we, Captain.” He grinned at me, and the skin bunched up around his eye patch.

  Revulsion pooled in my gut. So you can kidnap me? How gullible did I look?

  I gauged the men carefully. It was possible to incapacitate them both, if everything went in my favor. One slip, though, and I could be knocked senseless.

  “What say you, lass?” Calhoun continued. “Let’s make peace afore we wake your friends.” He tipped his eye toward the sword sheathed at the captain’s waist. “Then we’d have a heap o’ trouble, we would.”

  I wanted to slap that stupid grin off his face, right before I set his nerves afire. “I’ve another idea, Calhoun. Leave the lantern and go back the way you came. I’ll return to my cabin, and we’ll just forget this encounter ever happened. But let me warn you, I won’t be so gentle as I was with Donal. One false move, and you’ll be begging for mercy.”

  Captain Lynch clasped his hands behind his back and considered me for a moment. A sardonic smile spread across his mouth. “I believe you speak true, Miss Kilbrid. Which leaves me with one option.” Unclasping his hands, the captain drew the sword from his side. “Sorry, Calhoun. Deal’s off, unless you want the gents instead.”

  I gasped as he moved the sword past my palms and pressed the tip into my bodice, directly below the sternum where no bone would impede a thrust.

  Calhoun lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “No need to be hasty, Captain. We’ll find another way. Just give me a minute to think it through.”

  “Time’s up, Calhoun.” Captain Lynch pressed a little harder, and I squeaked when the sharp tip bit through the wool of my stomacher.

  “Do something, you brat,” Calhoun hissed.

  Movement sounded behind me as the girl scrambled to her feet. She edged forward, and I shivered, cold and fear converged into one.

  “Leave her be,” she said.

  Calhoun jabbed a finger at her. “This be your doing, you ungrateful wench! Now finish the job afore it’s too late.”

  The girl sniffed. “You should have listened,” she whispered to me.

  Her hand cupped my shoulder, and I shuddered from the biting cold that passed through the many layers of wool and linen to the skin below. Understanding came too late. Turning, I glimpsed the brittle hatred in her hazel eyes.

  “Too late for you now, Eanin.” She moved her hand to the exposed skin at my neck. Ice exploded in my veins. We gasped as one, filling the passageway with silent screams. My heart slowed. Darkness pushed in from all sides, and everything turned black.

  Chapter Eight

  Through the Curtain

  One moment I was simply gone, absorbed in a pool of blackness without the least awareness. Then a finger of light cut across my vision, and the next moment I was whisked away, weightless as though carried on wings.

  Instinct grabbed hold, pushed me forward, even as my heart and mind cried out to stop.

  Don’t go...not yet...

  The light grew brighter, separated from the darkness. A world loomed in the distance, marbled white, blue and green. In the space of a blink, an azure sky filled my vision. Craggy mountaintops flashed by, the snowcaps glistening like diamonds in the sun before plunging thousands of feet into verdant valleys below. Flowers and trees whirled past, and another blink found my stocking-covered feet firmly on the ground, nestled deep in a thick carpet of grass. Warmth suffused my skin. Power pulsed through me, a hundred times stronger than in Brigid’s gardens, or anywhere close to earth.

  Where am I?

  The new surroundings slowly came into focus. A clearing stretched to a circle, no more than ten feet in diameter. Mist swirled along the perimeter. Voices hummed nearby and dark shapes moved, heedless of my presence. Fragrant air brushed my nose, filled me with longing as it chased away the last remnants of cold.

  Instinct flared bright. One step. That was all it would take to remain here forever. I knew it the same way an infant knew to draw breath upon entering the mortal world. The mist would clear in that instant, revealing the intense beauty and abundance of life just beyond. I could feel it, a familiarity that beckoned me closer. My toes curled into the grass with anticipation. I leaned forward, but a faint echo floated like a phantom in the back of my mind, anchoring me in place. I had forgotten something, but what?

  Movement caught my eye. A shadow drew near, stopped at the very edge of the perimeter. The mist thinned around the sturdy form of a man. He looked straight at me, and my mouth fell open, the breath catching in my throat.

  Father...

  No trace of his previous illness remained. Nor even any telltale signs of his advanced age. His face glowed with health. Dark brown hair fell to his shoulders, and the once bent body stood tall, renewed of strength.

  Impossible. My father had died months ago, returning to the Otherworld far beyond where I could go. He was now with my mother and older brother, and the countless ancestors who had gone before. This had to be a dream, or a hallucination at the very least.

  Someone else moved forward, and a woman joined him, more lovely than I remembered. She laced her fingers through his, though her dark blue eyes never strayed from mine. A tremor rolled through my entire being. The past five years fell away as I studied my mother’s face, taking in every cherished feature.

  Are you real?

  She nodded, and I stared at them, my heart aching from the truth. I wasn’t dreaming. They were together in the Otherworld, and a single step would reunite us. My shoulders edged forward. My toes dug deeper into the grass.

  The echo grew more insistent, two words running together in an endless, incoherent circle. Henrynorahenrynorahenrynora... I ignored it as power pulsed through me. My soul begged to stay, to become the child once more in the safe harbor of my parents’ embrace. My heels lifted from the ground. Just one step. That was all it would take to break the link and set me free from the human world.

  My father held up a hand and shook his head. No, Selah. It’s not time. He hadn’t spoken, though each word sounded clearly in my head.

  A smile curved at the corners of my mother’s lips, sadness and joy together. Fare thee well, daughter, until we meet again.

  I tried to protest, but the words refused to budge. The echo grew louder, split into two distinct sounds. Henry... Nora... Henry... Nora... Henry... Nora. Reason gained ground, subdued the overwhelming impulse to move forward.

  Oh, merciful saints! What am I doing? Why am I here? My heels dropped to the warm grass. Memories flew back one on top of the other. I had been in the hull of the ship...fighting with Master Calhoun and Captain Lynch...a girl touched my bare skin.

  Understanding poured through me, washed away the last remnants of instinct. I looked wildly around, at my parents and the swirling mist. There was still so much to do in the human world, I couldn’t cross over. Not yet, and not without Henry if I could manage it.

  My heart thumped. Goodbye—

  I wanted to say a million things more, but only managed the one word before being yanked backward. The clearing disappeared, then the valleys, mountaintops and sky flew by. The world passed away next, and light merged with the darkness. Blackness pooled over me, stealing the fragile pieces of my awareness when another instinct took hold—move or die.

  I kicked out in a desperate search for the surface. The dark pool wavered, and I kicked again, even harder this tim
e. Gray light appeared as my body jerked with a sudden jolt. A hard breath cut through my nose, smelling strongly of cinnamon. My eyes fluttered open, and I stared somewhat dazed at the dim canvas directly in front of me.

  Little by little, the situation unfurled. I was curled to one side, my ankles and knees bound together. The skin stung at my wrists, and I soon discovered that they had also been bound. Pins and needles pricked at my right shoulder from being compressed against a hard surface for so long. A small fire burned in my neck where the girl had touched me.

  What have they done?

  Confusion raced anew as a panicked cry rose up in my throat. It quickly died, broken by a coarse binding that bit into my tongue and the corners of my mouth. Frantic, I twisted every joint and bone in an attempt to break free.

  A deep chuckle sounded somewhere above my head. “There you be, me lass, awake at last,” Master Calhoun said, his voice strained. “Don’t mind the sack, just a bit o’ precaution to please the captain. I’ll have you out in no time, so long as you promise to behave yourself.”

  I screamed again, but the binding reduced the angry curses to a series of muffled squeaks. Damnation! Calhoun was good as dead the second I got free.

  Livid to the point of bursting, I thrashed and twisted with renewed vigor. After a moment, the motion seemed to take on a life of its own, knocking me to and fro. Every protruding body part smacked into something hard. Front and back, front and back again until I was smarting from head to toe.

  “Hold it there, lass,” Calhoun snapped, “afore you turn us all in the drink.”

  I had already stopped thrashing, having been thrown off-kilter by the violent rocking motion. But his words gave my location new form. Gagged, tied and stuffed in a spice-infused sack, I relied on my remaining corporal sense and strained my ears for any helpful sounds.

  Waves lapped close to my head. The wind blew without buffer, though no sails rippled overhead. Wood scraped against metal in a repetitive pattern, followed each time by the splash of water. Labored breathing seemed to punctuate each movement—scrape on the inhale, splash on the exhale.

  So we had left the Sea Witch. Very well. Calhoun was a dead man, just as soon as we reached land and I managed to get a hand free. Unfortunately, patience wasn’t my strongest virtue, especially while trussed like a pig on the way to market. I hated being restrained, and anger alone kept me from tumbling headfirst into panic, the blistering heat melting any crystals of fear that strayed too near.

  Seagulls screeched above. Minutes passed and the physical discomforts became increasingly difficult to ignore. My shoulder throbbed from the odd angle, and a miniature drum pounded in my head. The constant smell of cinnamon was making me queasy, and I had to clamp my teeth to keep from gagging around the binding lodged in my mouth.

  Worst of all was the burn on my neck. Not that being freed would have any effect on such an ailment. I would either have to wait for Cate, or try to mend it myself, though I’d had no significant luck with self-healing yet.

  Someone groaned at the far end of the boat. I tilted my head toward the noise, startled by another presence onboard

  “About time, you worthless bit o’ rubbish,” Calhoun growled. “Get your lazy bones up here and help with these oars.”

  “Do it yourself,” the girl moaned. “I’ll not be moving yet.”

  My stomach turned over at the sound of her voice. Cailleach’s descendant. Our lineage made us mortal enemies. Attacking me on the ship earned a resentment that went far deeper than blood.

  Movement rocked the boat. I rolled sideways, smacking my elbows against something hard.

  “Hold up there,” Calhoun barked. “Thought you was staying put.”

  Violent retching answered, along with a sudden dip to one side. I hit the back of my head this time, wincing from the pain.

  “Stop jerking about so,” he said, “or you’ll be swimming the last, mind you.”

  The girl moaned, and I would have smiled if not for the gag. What goes around comes around. By the sounds of it, she had gotten a dose of her own medicine. The boat rocked again, more gently under her shifting weight.

  “You missed Dunmore dock,” she said, clearly miserable. “Do you intend to go it on foot then, and leave the caravan behind?”

  Dunmore... The map from Cate’s library popped into my head with the village of Dunmore East printed in black ink just south of Wexford.

  “Don’t be thick in the head,” Calhoun said. “Thanks to Mrs. Murphy’s hollering, half the village will be barking up our backsides if’n we go there first.”

  “Didn’t take so good to the tonic you sold her, eh?”

  Calhoun blew out a hard breath. “Woeful bad. Nearly did her in from the retching.”

  The girl rasped a laugh. “Serves you right, mixing bat dung with bloodroot and mercury. She could’ve died, then you’d be swinging for murder.”

  “You’ve some cheek sounding so pleased with me failure. Even after all I’ve done, you’d just as soon spit on me grave than help make a bit o’ coin.” His voice came out gruffer than usual from the effort of rowing. “I’ve a mind to tie you up tonight for that stunt you pulled on the Sea Witch. A brazen lass, you’ve become, and I’ll not have you run off without a thought to me purse strings.”

  There was a tense pause. Splash...scrape...splash...scrape... The oars continued their repetitive motion.

  “Don’t bother yourself,” the girl said sullenly. “I’ve nowhere to go.”

  “Remember that so. ’twas Calhoun who kept you from starving all these years. And how do you go about repaying me? By trying to warn the one bit o’ luck to cross our path. Well, I’m fed up with the ingratitude. Paddy can have you when we return home.”

  She gasped. “No! You promised not to make me!”

  “Circumstances changed, me lass, and I won’t be needing you for a while. Paddy’s got a fancy for you, so he can see to blackening your eyes when you need it.”

  Her battered face filled my thoughts. I tried to push it way, but it refused to move, even when I squeezed my eyes shut. Bugger that! After what she’d done, the girl didn’t deserve an ounce of pity from me. As my enemy and attacker, she deserved a swift kick to the shins, though that would only serve to bruise my own shins in turn.

  The screech of seagulls grew more persistent. The sound of the waves changed, breaking closer against the shore. I began to wiggle my wrists in a desperate attempt to get one free.

  “I hate your blooming guts,” the girl mumbled. I stopped moving, startled by the gruff admission.

  “What say you?” Calhoun growled.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing be damned, you saucy tart. I heard well enough.” He chuckled, and I winced from the dark, mirthless noise. “Times be easier for Calhoun now. Once the girl’s loaded, I’ll find Mrs. Murphy and set things to right. Then come evening you’ll be for Paddy. I’ll advise him to beat you straight away to keep any funny ideas from sneaking into that head o’ yours.”

  There was a soft thud as we bumped into something on one side. The rhythmic sound of the oars stopped, and one paddle came to rest against my calves. Feet shuffled, and the boat dipped to one side, only to rock back a second later.

  “Stay in the boat,” Calhoun ordered. “And keep out o’ sight. I don’t want trouble, mind you, so don’t touch anyone unless there be no other choice, hear.”

  The girl remained silent.

  “Miserable brat,” Calhoun muttered. “I ought to tan that skinny hide o’ yours.” Footsteps receded, and his voice trailed off in the growing distance.

  I stayed absolutely still to better assess the situation. Calhoun had just left, I assumed to retrieve the caravan he’d mentioned. Which left me alone in a boat with the girl. She didn’t speak, nor make a move of any kind. A minute passed, then another, and the silenc
e deepened.

  At present, there seemed two options. I could wait and do nothing for now, playing the docile prisoner until a better opportunity arose. Or I could attempt to free myself, and quite possibly instigate another attack. At least with the latter, the risks went both ways, as the girl couldn’t strike without harming herself in return.

  Opting for immediate action, I resumed wriggling my wrists in search for any amount of play. The binding held fast, chafing the skin that still bore the faint scars from a similar exercise last summer. I pulled harder. The sack grew intolerably warm, the air stifling and insufficient. Sweat coated my forehead, dripped along my cheeks and into my eyes.

  An exasperated sigh deflated from the far end of the boat. “Save your strength,” the girl said. “You’ll never make it out afore Calhoun returns.”

  “Bugger off!” I tried to yell, effectively managing two squeaks that sounded a lot like waher waah. Panting through my nose, I pulled some more at the bindings.

  “Stubborn fool,” she said. “Should have known you’d not recognize common sense when you heard it. Otherwise you’d be sitting pretty in Wexford with your friends instead o’ here with Calhoun and me.”

  Stubborn, indeed. Perhaps she could have been a bit more explicit in describing the danger earlier. Then I would have happily returned to the cabin to warn the others. More fool, me. I had stayed to help, and been paid in treachery for my efforts. No doubt as Cailleach’s descendant, the girl was capable of little else, and if not for the gag, I would have given her an earful on the matter.

  All the same, she spoke true about escaping from the sack unaided. And as she showed no intention of helping, I would do better to conserve my strength for future battles, in addition to the skin at each point of binding. My knees and ankles stung like the dickens and moisture wet my wrists from either sweat or blood.

  Closing my eyes, I silently counted to fifty in an attempt to calm the near animalistic rage that boiled just beneath the surface. Then I counted to fifty again. On the third time, the girl shifted slightly. I paused, my ears turned to any further signs of movement.