Drowned

by Nichola Reilly

  He presses his hot, damp hand against the back of my neck and firmly guides me down the stone staircase. We splash down to the second floor. Out the window, the formation is beginning to disperse. I can’t feel my feet beneath my body. Each step feels closer to my last. The water is still knee-deep on the ground floor. I wade through it and push the heavy front doors open, squinting in the bright light. After all that time inside, the light stings my eyes worse than ever. The townspeople have begun scurrying down the long ladder and ropes attached to the formation edges. The first to see me gaze in disbelief, as if I’d just washed in with the tide. Then the shouts begin. “She’s here. Over here!”

  Blinking furiously, I realize that Finn has taken a spear from his back. It’s a metal spear, the kind only the guards used to have. He jabs the point into my rib cage, as if I’m any match for him. “Coe,” he shouts, loudly enough for everyone to hear. He is putting on a show for them, as their king. “People are worried. You have to explain yourself, right now.”

  “Where is the princess?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm, but my knees are shaking. All my life, I’ve been virtually ignored on the island. And now every one of the four hundred people on the island seems to be staring at me.

  By now two guards have come to his aid, and now they’re jabbing their spears at me. I don’t know what has given them the sudden impression that I’m so dangerous, when I’ve always been the weakest person on the island. Finn crosses his arms. “Coe. I will ask the questions.”

  A moment passes with us both standing, frozen in a staring match. Maybe he wants me to bow. He finally leans in beside me. “Coe, what do you think you are doing?” he says, almost gently.

  “I want to ask you the same thing. Is it true you killed the twins?”

  His lower lip trembles, flashing a bit of guilt that disappears as soon as he juts his chin forward. It’s very regal on him. “Coe, that is the way you survive in this world,” he tells me. “You dispose of the threats. And you are starting to look like a threat.”

  “You know I am not one,” I seethe.

  “I don’t know that. I don’t know what you are up to. You and I could have ruled this kingdom together,” he mumbles. “But now...”

  I grit my teeth. “I don’t want to be queen. Not to a king who is a murderer.” I whisper, “Please, Finn.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Coe, you know what I told you. It’s not my decision. The king needs to do what the people want in order to remain king,” he whispers, his eyes intense on mine. “You’ve disappeared now for three tides, only to come back from the castle each time, perfectly fine. So that leaves us all wondering, since the rest of the world is underwater, where you have been spending your time. We know you weren’t in the tower. Coe, nobody trusts you. They think you are up to no good, and want you dead. So what are my choices?”

  The guards’ spears graze my side. I can feel the cold metal through my tunic. “I know. I don’t know what to say.”

  “You can start by explaining yourself,” he says. “Where have you been?”

  I don’t know how to answer, so I say nothing.

  He motions to “his” men, whom I am sure were the king’s men only a few tides ago. They grind their metal spears into the sand as they grab for me. I try to jump back, but their arms come from everywhere, and they clamp their rough hands on my arms and legs and yank me in the direction of the sea.

  The sea. I try to kick, but their grip is unforgiving.

  No, he wouldn’t do this to me. He wouldn’t throw me in the sea with the scribblers. He promised Buck he’d protect me.

  “Wait,” I shout. “Wait.”

  They don’t wait. If anything, they move more surely.

  The waves crash in front of me. The sea sprays my face. The white of the sand and black of the ocean swirl together in my vision, and I know that me surviving all those seasons ago was just luck. It had to have been. I was just a small child. I’ve heard stories about people lasting quite a while in the water, being shoved back in by the guards’ spears. But most of them last moments, heartbeats even. How long will I last this time? Is it hissing I hear, or is it just my imagination?

  “Drop her.”

  Suddenly they toss me. I feel myself flying through the air, and I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable splash and for the world around me to turn dark and murky. Instead, my body falls against sand, damp, soft sand. It’s only then I realize my face is wet with tears.

  The sand clumps in my eyelashes. I wipe them and see Finn staring over me, chewing on a piece of seaweed. The men are, once again, pointing their spears at me, poking me with them, laughing. I scramble to my knees, feeling shameful already. I’ve spent every tide thinking about my death, and I always hoped I’d face it with dignity. But somehow I think I knew that when the time came, I’d turn into a weeping mess.

  Finn crouches beside me. He’s still chewing noisily on that scraggle of black seaweed. It hangs out of his mouth like a long black serpent tongue. “If you don’t talk, next time, they will throw you into the sea. I cannot stop the people from doing what they see fit. And don’t think you will be so lucky as to survive, the way you did when you were a child.”

  He plucks a lock of black hair that had fallen into my face, and I flinch. He trails his finger to my cheek, wiping the sand from it.

  His eyes soften as he gazes at my face. “I never believed those stories about you being a demon. Just as I never believed Tiam was the savior. Those things were said to keep us living in fear, to stop us from questioning. But we are questioning now. And we think you have some answers.”

  I can’t meet his stare. I think of how Tiam said I was unafraid of everything. What a lie. My whole body is shaking so hard I can barely get the words out. “I—I don’t.”

  “Burbur gave us a little tour of the stores,” he says, to which I exhale deeply and squeeze my eyes shut. “We found some very interesting things down there. Besides the honey. But I get the feeling you know all about that.”

  “I didn’t. Not until a few tides ago,” I say honestly.

  One of the guards comes forth, holding the journal and fairy-tale book I’d carried. In all the commotion, I hadn’t realized they’d stripped me of my bag.

  Finn picks the materials up, turning them over in his hands. “What the hell are they?” His eyebrows raise in question.

  “Books,” I explain.

  He opens the journal and turns the pages, landing on Cass’s map. He lets out a quick breath. “This map is of the stores.” I’m sure his hands are trembling as he runs his fingers along the smudged lines. “Aliah,” he whispers.

  It’s a word that means nothing. And yet, I get this strange feeling that maybe it meant something to me, once before. “You got this from your father.”

  It’s not a question. He knows. “What is Aliah?”

  Somewhere, I hear seagull squawks, punctuating the word. He closes the book and dismisses the men. They lower their spears, and he puts the books in my bag and hands it to me. He grabs me by the arm and leads me toward the base of the platform, until we’re out of earshot from the rest of the commoners. “I thought you would tell me.”

  “I’ve never heard that before,” I say.

  “Your father told me something before he left on his Explore. He said he had to leave, that he had betrayed the king in the worse way possible and this was his penance. He said he’d always hoped that one day, Aliah would return and show us the way, but that never happened, and he needed to try something else.”

  “Aliah? I don’t know who or what that is.”

  “He talked in his sleep a lot. One thing he said, I’ll never forget, is ‘Aliah has the map.’” He motions to the bag. “Is that the map? That’s the only map I’ve ever seen.”

  I think of the map in the princess’s room. I shake my head. “He gave t
his map to me. Not Aliah, whoever that is.”

  “Coe, there have always been rumors. Far-fetched tales that there is an escape tunnel to a land of paradise under the castle. That those stories of ghosts and evil under the castle were meant to keep people from poking around too much. I always figured it was just the crazed ravings of people like Xilia, who can no longer tell real life from fantasy.” He stares at me and sucks in a breath. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That they’re not just rumors?”

  I just stare at him, afraid of what he’ll do.

  “Your father was the highest ranking guard of the Wallows, once. Before you were born. Did you know that? He had a coveted spot in formation.”

  “I— What?” This news comes as complete shock to me. “He was just a fisherman.”

  “Many tides ago, after Star was presented as a sign from the gods, the rumor of the escape route being under a castle somehow festered, and the people were clamoring for Wallow to look into it. Wallow agreed to send someone on a search. He let the people choose their best, most fearless and trustworthy man to investigate.”

  “My father?”

  He nods. “But no escape was found. The mission was a failure. The ghosts and demons changed him somehow, so much so that he was unable to speak about what happened there. Your father was cast out to the outer edge of the formation. The king was deeply disappointed in him. I can only assume that was the betrayal your father spoke of. Didn’t he tell you?”

  “I—I don’t know anything about this,” I say, but suddenly I remember the scratched letters on the plaque in the laundry room. They had been his, after all.

  He studies me. “People don’t believe you. They think that he gave you information, and that you know more than you’re letting on.”

  “If I did know a way out, I would let everyone know,” I whisper.

  He smiles slightly, and then looks up at the sky and shakes his head. “They don’t believe you. Not anymore. You need to convince them. Take us where you’ve been for the past few tides.”

  I exhale. Of course I knew he’d say that. “They listen to you. It’s not so much that they don’t believe me. You don’t believe me. Admit it.”

  He nods. “All right. You’re not being truthful, Coe.”

  “Neither are you,” I counter. “Fine. I’ll take you down there. Tell me where the princess is first.”

  “Persistent, aren’t you?” he groans, spitting the piece of seaweed onto the ground. “We have not seen her. We thought she was with you, but since you don’t know, we can only assume she’s dead.”

  It’s not as if I’d expected anything better, but I wonder at that moment if I could have saved her. If I am capable of saving anyone. My insides tighten so much I think I’m in danger of passing out. I never wanted to hurt anyone. But Star, Fern, Tiam... I have a feeling I may have just brought doom upon us all.

  Twenty

  The Descent

  I walk slowly across the wet sand toward the entrance to the castle, all the while squinting in the sun and trying to avoid the prick of Finn’s spear. The rest of the townspeople have gathered around us, and they separate for us as we walk. I wish I had a plan. I wish I could be like Clever Gretel and come up with something that would get me out of this mess. But my mind swirls with thoughts of Fern, little Fern, and how she deserves so much better. Of Tiam, and the feel of his mouth on mine, his breath in my ear. Of how our first kisses were probably our last.

  I think of how completely pathetic I’d acted when they’d almost thrown me into the water. I thought I was stronger than that. I thought I was prepared for death. Instead I’d squealed and fussed like a child. After everything I’ve been through, after all the times I almost met death! Thank God Tiam wasn’t there to see that, after he’d gone on and on about how fearless I was. Maybe he’s the reason why I acted so pathetically in the first place. Because only a short time before, I’d finally found something that made life worthwhile.

  “You’re stalling,” Finn grumbles. I lurch forward and start moving faster this time, to the doors. One of his guards holds them open, and we pass through.

  Not having any other bright ideas, I lead him and two guards to the door to the basement. I fumble for the key in my bag and finally produce it and unlock the door. “It’s down there,” I explain.

  “I’m following,” he says, nudging me along.

  I step down until I arrive at the map at the bottom of the stairs. I study Cass’s drawing, as if it really does tell me exactly where the exit is. “We go this way,” I say, turning toward the honey room. I clutch the key in my sweaty palm as the guards light a torch to blaze the way.

  Then it suddenly occurs to me. I have Star’s key. But the only other person with a key is Burbur. If I can somehow separate from them, lock myself in the honey room... I can make it down to the subbasement before they can follow me. But...how? There are three of them and only one of me. Six hands versus one. The two guards tower over me, broad-shouldered and burly, and Finn is no lightweight, either.

  The light from the torch dips and sways as the guard holding it moves. It appears he is having a hard time balancing both his spear and the torch because his armor keeps getting in the way. He grunts and groans and then curses as a few sparks land on his hand. All of this begins the wheels turning in my head. Soon, I have a plan.

  We walk on past the honey room. I’ve never been this far before, so it’s not much of a stretch when I look to Cass’s drawing for help. We pass the canned vegetables room, and the roots room, whatever that is. Then I find one that seems fitting. CANNED MEATS. I use my key to open the door. “It’s in here,” I explain, not looking at them.

  Finn scratches the scars on the side of his face, then points to the plaque beside the door. “What does this here say?”

  “This is where they store the canned foods,” I answer.

  “You can understand those markings?” Finn asks. The guards mumble to one another, probably suspicious. They follow me inside. It’s just more crates, most of which appear empty. Finn looks around, tossing things over carelessly with the end of the spear, letting the soft packing material scatter across the stone floor. He moves ahead into the room while I hold back. The guards flank me, but I’m focusing on the guard with the torch to the right of me. I swallow, take a deep breath and tell myself it’s time.

  In a blinding flash I reach out and grab the torch, throwing it to the ground. Finn whirls and lunges for me, but instantly the dry paper packing material is ignited, throwing a huge wall of fire between him and the rest of us. The guard who lost his spear is on fire, spinning in tight circles, squealing and screeching much the way I did on the beach. The hair of his beard is engulfed and he’s swatting helplessly at it as if trying to kill a fly; it’s just making the flames curl down his chest. The other guard jabs his spear at me, but I squeeze to the side just in time to avoid it. Then he throws himself at me, hands clawing at my neck. I fall to the ground, kicking, screaming, thrashing all three of my good limbs until he lurches back in pain. I reach for the torch, then climb halfway to my feet, stumbling to the door. As I do, I catch sight of Finn struggling to unfurl the cheerful pink robe from his neck, the bottom of which is now on fire. I grasp the handle, pulling with all my might, until it’s about to click shut. But four black, burned fingers snake their way out.

  “Don’t you dare, Coe!” a voice screams in my ear, shaking the walls.

  I pull frantically, as hard as I can, until it shuts out Finn’s voice. I try to turn the key so that it locks, but my hand is slick with sweat, making it useless. Finally I grab on to it with my teeth and twist it around, tasting the metallic sting on my tongue. I move back to the other wall and just stare at the door as they pound and claw. I wonder if it will hold long enough for me to stay and catch my breath.

  I don’t wait around to find out. I rush to the
honey room and as my shaking fingers are trying to fit the key into its opening, the pounding stops, and I hear something else coming from the faraway door. Something much more controlled.

  Metal against metal. The turn of a key in a lock.

  And I know that Finn has Burbur’s precious key.

  Twenty-One

  The Last of Meeting Places

  My hand feels numb on the metal, and it’s as if the keyhole isn’t there. I can’t seem to press it through. Down the hallway, in the darkness, something creaks. The door. They’ve opened it. I finally lean against the wall and take a deep breath to steady myself, then push the key through on the first try. I turn it, throw myself into the room and slam the door shut just as Finn’s shouts echo through the corridor.

  He has a key. And yet another reason to hate me.

  I hear the key scraping around the metal door outside. It occurs to me that while they may have a key, they don’t have the torch. But they do have flint, and there was enough fire in that room to start a light. I rush to the metal disc in the floor and suddenly I realize...I can’t lift it on my own. It was Fern who lifted it before. This whole plan had failure on it from the start.

  But as the disc comes into view, I notice that it looks like two. One shiny metal, one black and endless. As I come closer, I realize it’s not two... Someone has already opened it. It’s open!

  I squeeze the torch between my chin and chest and climb down as quickly as I can, then struggle to pull the cover over me. When it closes tightly, I breathe deeply with relief. They might not even know I’m down here. And if they do, they’re big men with much pudgier fingers than I have. I’d like to see them open it.

  I remember the scribblers and am just about to see if I can climb over the pipes when I’m startled by a sound. Not hissing, as I expect. A voice. A human cry.

  I whirl around, still clutching the top rung of the ladder. But I think the sound came from below me. “Who’s there?” I ask.