Against the Tide

by Tui T. Sutherland

  Conor and Abeke held out their arms; Briggan and Uraza vanished, and almost at the same moment, Kalani’s dolphin appeared. Only now the dolphin was much, much bigger than when they’d first seen him.

  Abeke eyed the dolphin’s smooth, rubbery skin anxiously. There was no fur to hold on to here. Kalani was used to riding him, but how would Conor and Abeke stay on?

  The dolphin caught Abeke’s eye and smiled. At least, it looked like a smile — a genuine, trust-me, don’t-worry, this’ll-be-fun smile. He flipped his tail and splashed them all.

  “Come on,” Kalani said.

  Abeke heard voices shouting along the beach. The Conquerors had figured out their plan. There was no more time to lose.

  She hurried into the water, paddling the last few feet as the seafloor dipped out of sight below her. Conor flailed and splashed along behind her, still clutching the black conch under his arm.

  Kalani was already on Katoa’s back; she reached down and hauled Abeke up behind her. The dolphin felt slippery and cool under Abeke’s hands as she wriggled into a sitting position. “Just hang on to me!” Kalani called. Abeke wrapped her arms around the older girl’s waist as Kalani dragged Conor onto the dolphin in front of her. He tucked his cloak around the conch in his arms, closed his eyes, and curled into the dolphin with a look of dread on his face.

  Abeke held her breath as the giant dolphin plunged into the waves. Salt water stung her nose and throat as they submerged, then came up to the surface again. Conor coughed and sputtered frantically. Abeke clung to Kalani for dear life.

  At first it was terrifying, like she was seven all over again, but after a minute she got used to the rise and fall of the dolphin’s back between her knees and the way the ocean swept over them each time they went under. It started to feel exhilarating, like leaping through clouds. She took a deep breath in, letting relief sweep through her.

  When Abeke twisted around to look back, she saw Sunlight Island rapidly shrinking into the distance. Even as the Conquerors ran for boats to follow them, it was clear they’d never catch up.

  Thanks to Katoa and Kalani, she and Conor had gotten the black conch and escaped safely.

  Now they just had to hope that Rollan and Meilin had been successful too — and then they could call the Kingray and finally be on their way to Mulop.

  MEILIN STOOD ON THE RUINS OF A BRIDGE IN A DESOLATE garden, gazing down into the empty ponds below her. The pale orange and white bodies of large, once-beautiful fish lay tangled in the rotting mass of greenery.

  All around her, the trees and flowering plants were dead, their lifeless wet branches drooping and broken or flattened pathetically to the ground.

  The whole garden looked drowned, as if a tsunami had come through, destroyed everything, and then stormed back into the ocean.

  Grandfather Xao’s garden.

  She still recognized it, even in this state. She could imagine how her grandparents would shriek at the sight of it, after all the meticulous work they’d done to the place over the years. They would be furious — for five minutes. Then they would roll up their sleeves and start cleaning it up.

  Meilin set aside the parasol she was holding, crouched, and started pulling weeds out of the cracks in the bridge’s boards, tossing them down into the pond under her.

  “Don’t waste your energy, Tiny Tiger.”

  Meilin scrambled to her feet and whirled around.

  Her father stepped up onto the bridge, staring out into the garden with grief in his eyes. “I loved this place. I loved it as a child, and I loved bringing you here when you were small.” He flashed a sad smile at her. “It was one of the few places you ever had a chance to play. You’ve had to grow up so fast, Meilin.”

  “Father,” Meilin choked out. He looked . . . healthy, strong, powerful. Alive.

  Something moved in the overgrown bushes behind him. Meilin tensed and reached for the parasol — but it wasn’t a parasol anymore. It was a spear, the end wickedly sharp and gleaming.

  Then Jhi stepped out of the greenery and looked around, blinking slowly. Her silver eyes met Meilin’s and she came padding up onto the bridge. Meilin’s father looked down at the panda as she passed him.

  “A terrible mistake,” he murmured.

  “She’s not,” Meilin said. “I thought so at first, but . . . we are meant for each other.”

  Jhi stood up on her hind legs and rested her front paws on the shattered railing of the bridge. The black fur around her eyes made them seem even larger and sadder. “I hope you always remember that, Meilin,” she said in a velvety voice.

  A sense of foreboding shivered across Meilin’s skin. Up in the sky, a flock of ravens erupted from one of the dead trees and scattered across the gray clouds, cawing harshly.

  “Get out!” her father shouted abruptly. Meilin jumped, terrified by the anger in his voice. He took a step toward Meilin and stared furiously into her eyes. “Get out!” he shouted again. “You’re not my daughter!”

  Meilin stumbled back, nearly falling through a spot where the wood of the bridge had rotted completely away.

  “I am!” she cried. “Father, what’s wrong?”

  Blood began to bubble out from between his lips. To her horror, Meilin saw more patches of blood spreading all across his chest, seeping through his robe. “I never should have listened to you!” he hissed.

  “I’m sorry,” Meilin said, her voice trembling. “Father, please.” But he shoved away her outstretched hands and turned his back on her. His back, too, was bleeding from a hundred wounds, many of them the size and shape of giant crocodile teeth.

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled. “You’re not my daughter.”

  It began to rain, the kind of cold, dripping, mind-numbing rain you’d expect to symbolize misery in a dream.

  “Jhi,” Meilin pleaded, turning to her spirit animal. “What’s wrong with him? Why is he so angry at me?” She buried her face in her hands. “Because I got him killed, is that why?”

  “Meilin,” said the panda. Jhi came up beside Meilin, pressing her warm bulk against the girl’s side. “Forgive yourself. Now, and then, and later.”

  “I can’t,” Meilin whispered through her tears.

  “There is worse to come,” Jhi warned softly.

  “Worse than losing my father and all of Zhong?” Meilin asked. General Teng started to limp away, clutching his side and stopping for breath every few minutes. All she wanted was to run after him and have him fold her in his arms, the way he used to when she was small.

  But the fury in his eyes . . . She couldn’t face it again.

  “Worse,” murmured Jhi. “Oh, Meilin . . . I can’t tell you, but you need to know. . . .”

  Her voice trailed off as a freezing wind began to sweep through the garden.

  “What is it?” Meilin asked. “What’s going to happen?”

  Jhi leaned forward as though she was trying to speak, but the wind, and rain, and rattling dead branches drowned out her voice. Meilin crouched and put her hands on either side of Jhi’s face, bringing them nose to nose. But she still couldn’t hear anything Jhi said. Whatever warning the panda was trying to deliver, it couldn’t get through.

  All Meilin could see was herself reflected in Jhi’s silver eyes: a girl with no father and no home, a girl who couldn’t trust anyone. A girl who had to save Erdas with nothing but a panda.

  Meilin closed her eyes and rested her forehead against Jhi’s soft black-and-white fur.

  When she opened them again, Jhi was gone and Meilin was back in the canoe, rocking on the waves. The sky was the lavender of her handmaiden Kusha’s favorite silk kimono; a few stars were just beginning to glimmer above her as the sun set. Her legs ached and her arms felt like they were full of small needles. She realized she’d had her face pressed against her spirit animal tattoo as she slept.

  She sat up, rubbing
her upper arms, and Rollan pulled his paddle in and twisted around to look at her.

  “I’m glad you got some sleep,” he said. “It looked like you needed it.”

  Meilin didn’t answer. She would have chosen to go without sleep for a week if she could have avoided that dream.

  Now it would haunt her forever: her father’s bloodied face shouting “Get out!” and “You’re not my daughter!” surrounded by the wreckage of her childhood.

  She curled her arms around her legs and closed her eyes, determined not to cry.

  It was just a dream.

  Except the last time she’d spoken to Jhi in a dream, the panda had helped her wake up to realize she was sleepwalking in the rain on Sunset Tower.

  So what did this dream mean?

  Was something terrible about to happen?

  What was Jhi trying to tell her?

  DAGGER POINT TURNED OUT TO BE A LONG, NARROW PENINSULA ending in a chain of sharper and sharper rocks that jutted into the sea like it was knifing it. It was the northernmost point of the southernmost island in the Hundred Isles, and in places the cool blue sea was so calm and the reflections of the clouds so clear that it looked as if you’d be leaping right into the sky if you dove in.

  Of course, Rollan had no intention of doing any such thing.

  He was a sensible person who would keep his boots on land as much as possible, thank you very much. Unlike some people, who were evidently comfortable gallivanting around the ocean on giant dolphins.

  He squinted at Conor and Abeke as Kalani’s dolphin swam up to the shore, and revised that assessment. Conor looked anything but comfortable.

  The good news, though, was that as Conor wobbled off the side of the dolphin and floundered ashore with Abeke and Kalani’s help, Rollan caught a clear glimpse of the black conch in his arms.

  “They did it,” he said to Meilin. She was standing on the sharpest rock at the end of the daggerlike archipelago, hands on her hips, staring out to sea with the wind tossing her dark ponytail.

  “Of course they did,” she said without turning around.

  “Has anyone ever told you that your trust issues are all over the place?” Rollan asked.

  She just snorted in response.

  Lenori was on the beach, next to the canoe she’d brought and the ashes of the tapu-touched canoe they’d had to burn. She waited as the others staggered through the waves. They were too far away to hear, but Rollan saw her step forward and say something to Kalani. The young queen flinched back and made a sign with her hands in the direction of Dagger Point. In the direction of Rollan and Meilin.

  And Tarik, who stood behind him. Tarik put one hand on Rollan’s shoulder.

  “She’s warding off evil,” he explained simply.

  “Great,” Rollan said. “We step on one haunted island and suddenly we’re evil?”

  “You felt that place,” Tarik said. “You know it’s more than superstition; they’re right to fear it. We can’t burden Kalani with the weight of tapu. She has her whole tribe to think of. She’s better off staying away from us.”

  Rollan tilted his head back to watch Essix soaring in high, swooping circles far overhead. He just knew he never wanted to go back to Nightshade Island ever again. And if he could shake the nightmare of staring into Kovo’s malevolent eyes, that would be great too.

  “Bye,” he heard Meilin whisper. He followed her gaze to where Kalani and her dolphin — now back to its regular size — were swimming away. He wondered if the young queen would be able to keep her people safe with so many Conquerors so close by.

  Conor echoed that thought as he climbed out over the long rocks toward them. Rollan could hear him asking Lenori, “But won’t the Conquerors know it was her who helped us? What if they punish her?”

  “Kalani is a wise and strong queen,” Lenori assured him. “She will protect them as long as she can.” The rest of the thought was left unspoken, but Rollan could finish it in his head: The best way to help her is to stop the Devourer once and for all.

  Rollan reached out a hand to help Conor hop onto the rock next to him.

  Conor grinned his thanks. “I understand you guys are all touched by the spirit of darkness now or something.”

  “No joke,” Rollan said. “I might accidentally kill you in my sleep.”

  Conor’s smile faltered, and Rollan realized that it wasn’t at all funny, with an actual mole in their midst somewhere who might one day try to do exactly that.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just kidding. Um . . . so how was Sunlight Island?”

  “A little terrifying,” Conor admitted. “But Abeke and Uraza were amazing.”

  “Conor’s the one who found the conch,” Abeke said, and they exchanged a smile.

  Wish I could say we had a bonding experience too, Rollan thought. But it was kind of more of an un-bonding experience. Then again, he remembered the curl of Meilin’s fingers between his, and her slender, strong shoulders leaning into his arm. He wasn’t actually sure if they were closer or further apart than ever right now. She’d barely said more than five words since they left Nightshade Island, even when he’d tried saying some deliberately stupid things to provoke her into teasing him.

  As if his thought had summoned her, Meilin turned and balanced her way back along the rocks toward them, hopping gracefully like a jungle cat.

  Abeke frowned and ducked her head to peer into Meilin’s face. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Meilin snapped.

  “You just — sorry, you look — you just look like you’ve seen a ghost, or — more like a ghost has cut off one of your arms or something. So I just thought — if you want to talk about it —”

  That was eerily close, Rollan thought. He remembered someone saying once that losing a spirit animal was worse than losing a limb. He flexed his hand and looked up to check on Essix again.

  Meilin gave Abeke a withering look. “I don’t have anything I need to talk about with you,” she said. “Or with anyone here.” She glared around at Tarik, Conor, Lenori, and Rollan. “Nobody wants to say it, but we all know that one of us is the mole. One of us has been helping the enemy. Somebody here has been telling them how to find us — which means somebody here led the Conquerors right to us in Zhong. Whoever the mole is —” She looked straight at Abeke. “That’s the person who killed my father.”

  “Meilin —” Tarik said quietly. Abeke looked as if she’d been stabbed.

  “So no, I don’t want to have a heartfelt conversation about our feelings,” Meilin went on. “I want to call this Kingray, get the Coral Octopus, and finish this stupid quest before the Conquerors catch up to us yet again.” She snatched the white conch out of Rollan’s hands and snapped her fingers twice at Conor. “Ready?”

  “Um.” He fumbled with the black conch for a moment, then finally raised it to his mouth and nodded.

  Meilin drew a deep breath, and together they blew a long, resonant, rolling sound across the waves. The tone of the black conch was higher than that of the white conch, but they blended together like eerie music. The notes reverberated in Rollan’s ears and seemed to echo across the water long after Meilin and Conor finally lowered the seashells.

  Nothing happened for several minutes.

  “Didn’t it work?” Meilin asked Lenori impatiently. “Did we do it wrong?”

  Lenori spread her hands with that infinitely serene expression of hers, which Rollan was fairly certain was Meilin’s least favorite expression in Lenori’s repertoire.

  But before they could start to argue, Rollan spotted a strange ripple in the sea — like a wave going the wrong way, cutting across the other, regular waves.

  “There!” he cried, pointing.

  It was definitely coming toward them.

  “Is it the Kingray?” Abeke asked.

  “I’m guessing yes
,” Rollan said, “unless there happen to be a lot of comically oversized stingrays around these parts.”

  He was joking, but the flat, rippling creature coming toward them gave him the definite heebie-jeebies. Its edges flowed like banners moving in the wind. It had nothing that could be called a head or limbs. Strange black eyes peered at them from the top of the flat surface, and a long, thin tail like a pointed stick jutted out the back.

  And huge didn’t seem like quite the word for it. It was massive, like a large gray raft. Gray wasn’t the right description for its color either: something else, somewhere between dark green and violet and sand with freckles of russet red and splashes of brown. It was not a normal color.

  It was not a normal animal.

  The Kingray slowed to a stop in front of them and floated there in the water. Like an underwater flying carpet, just waiting for them to step aboard.

  “That is a big — that is a weird — I don’t even —” Rollan ran out of half-sentences. There was really no part of him, not even the tiniest hidden small corner, that wanted to climb on board the world’s most enormous stingray.

  “We’re really supposed to ride it?” Conor asked Tarik.

  “There’s nothing to hang on to,” Rollan pointed out.

  “And it’s not big enough for all six of us,” Meilin added. “Four at the most.” She stepped forward. “Well, I’m not staying here.” She crouched and rested one foot lightly on the Kingray’s back. When it didn’t move, she shifted her weight forward and then stepped all the way onto it.

  The Kingray sank a few inches and rippled quietly, unconcerned.

  “No worse than riding a rockback whale surrounded by sharks,” Meilin said, and Rollan thought he saw a glimmer of her usual teasing spirit in her eyes. “But of course, Rollan, if you’re too scared to ride a giant stingray, you could always stay here. . . .”

  “I’m not scared,” he protested. “I just think it would be more sensible to take, say, a boat, and maybe follow the Kingray wherever it’s going.”