Hidden Current

by Sharon Hinck

  How could Brantley plunge into the wide ocean, leaving the safety of our world? How could I trust the beast would bring him back? As shadows stretched longer, I shivered. Sudden solitude lowered over me like the dusk. The expanse of water made me feel very small and alone. Not knowing when—or if—Brantley would return hollowed my chest. I hugged my shins, resting my chin on my knees.

  I thought I’d begun to know Brantley. Determined, reckless, teasing, strong. I’d learned many sides to him as we’d traveled and grown to appreciate most of them. Yet I had no idea of the level of his courage. My blossoming affection for him now seemed like a silly girl’s fantasy. I was far from worthy of a man like him. I was a castoff. Worse than a castoff. I’d fled my calling. Abandoned my vow. Besides, I couldn’t daydream about joining my life with any man. I was, after all, a dancer—of a sort. Odd how that pledge to forsake family, future husband, or children made less sense to me with each day away from the Order.

  The subsun angled until the glare hurt my eyes. Shaking my head with a heavy sigh, I rose and proceeded to set up a camp in the hopes that Brantley would return. I gathered wood and lit a small fire to help him find his way back. For hours I stoked the flames alone, watching the subsun sink toward the horizon. Then a sharp whistle pulled my head up.

  Out across the water, Navar darted side to side while approaching. Brantley adjusted his stance to her movements and called out occasional instructions. I couldn’t fathom what he was doing.

  Then Navar dipped her head deep under the water and tossed it upward. Water rained down on the shore, along with the slippery splashing sound of fish slapping the ground. Three more times, the creature angled, dipped, and butted small copper-colored fish into the air. Supper fell at my feet, and I raced to gather up the fish and deposit them by our fire. I laughed as my tunic was soon wet from the wriggling catch.

  Meanwhile, Navar floated right up to the edge of the island. Brantley stroked the beast’s neck and murmured praise, then leapt lightly to the tangled mat of vegetation and strode toward me.

  The creature vanished like a dream, and if not for the fish scattered nearby, I would have believed I’d imagined it.

  Brantley stretched. “Told you I’d get us some dinner. Took longer than I thought. Used to be we’d find schools near the coast, but . . .” He trailed off as he noticed my baffled expression. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never seen . . . I didn’t know . . .”

  “I told you I was a herder.”

  Which had conjured images of him tending land animals in a midrange pasture. “What is that . . . creature?”

  “Navar? She’s a stenella. Don’t tell me you haven’t seen one before.” He grabbed his knife and efficiently gutted one of the fish. “How did you imagine a herder from a rim village provided for his family?”

  I felt more ignorant than a first-form novitiate, so I ducked my head and peeled bark from a stick to skewer the fish. Why couldn’t I remember more from the handful of early years before I was brought to the Order? Had people of Undertow herded fish toward shore this way? Perhaps even my father? What else had I forgotten?

  I set aside my worries as the scent of crisping fillets rose from the fire. After days of hunger, the tremendous gift of food pushed everything else from my mind. We ate in companionable silence. The meat was flakey and tender, with only a hint of sweetness. Somehow the citrus-honey flavor of the sea didn’t bother me as much as I had expected. I smiled to myself. Saltar Kemp would be horrified if I became accustomed to unfiltered sweet water.

  After we’d eaten our fill and stoked the fire, Brantley leaned back on his elbows with a sigh. “You can’t tell me you’d rather live inside the cold walls of the Order or the stiff cobblestones of Middlemost.”

  The mat of tangleroot that formed the ground this close to the edge rolled unevenly. I wanted to grab the surface to steady myself, but kept my hands folded in my lap. “I’m not sure I could get used to how much everything moves out here.”

  “This is nothing. Try riding the rim when a storm blows through.”

  I didn’t want to imagine that and shook my head.

  He leaned back and studied the sky. “Seems the weather hasn’t been as bad the past few days. Think the High Saltar has given up on harassing you?”

  “I hope so. I’m not important enough for her to bother with.” The memory of her eyes burning into mine, demanding descriptions of my experience, argued against my optimism.

  “Well, get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll follow the rim toward a village. I think we may be close to Whitecap.”

  Dense undergrowth stretched into the distance along the shore as the ground bobbed unpredictably. Walking the edge would be even more daunting than our hike from the center. “Is Whitecap near Undertow?”

  He must have noticed the weary edge to my voice. He sat up and unfurled his cloak, draping it around me. “No, but traveling will be easier now.”

  I squinted again at the shore. “It will?”

  “Sure, now that we can travel by water.”

  “By water?” I tossed away his cloak and stood to confront him. He didn’t think I would leave the safety of land, did he? Ridiculous!

  Ignoring my alarm, he chuckled and surged to his feet. He threw an arm around me and planted a brotherly kiss on the top of my head. The warmth of his body so close to mine stirred an errant wish for something more than a casual touch. Something I’d never known to miss until now.

  Before I could examine those thoughts, he flopped beside the fire again. “Stop worrying. Tomorrow you’ll learn how to ride.”

  My throat tensed in a choking grip as my pulse pounded so hard my breath came in rapid sips.

  Ride? I couldn’t even swim.

  “You don’t have to swim, only ride.” Brantley’s curls were more unruly than usual in the morning light, probably because he’d spent the last hour raking his hands through them in frustration as we argued. He’d coaxed, badgered, and offered reassurances as if I were a nervous child.

  I refused to budge.

  Navar had answered Brantley’s whistle and hovered near the shore for the first half hour, then lost interest and drifted away in languid circles.

  “At least come closer to the water.” Brantley held out his hand. With his feet planted wide on the matted tangleroot, he rode the ripples that undulated beneath the edge. “Are you sure no one ever taught you to swim?”

  I shook my head. I’d had flickers of memory from my early childhood at the rim, even of playing in the sea, but my time in the Order had erased that knowledge fully, and planted only fear and disdain for the ocean.

  Brantley’s eyebrows cocked upward. “My niece could swim like a stenella when she was four years old.”

  His efforts to shame me didn’t work. I could admit Navar was beautiful and intriguing, but that didn’t mean I would trust my life to her. Terror still gripped me in a relentless fist.

  With a low growl, Brantley strode toward me.

  I skittered back a few steps. Had he grown so frustrated that he would simply throw me into the waves?

  He stopped, a flicker of hurt skimming over his features before it disappeared beneath the surface. He offered his hand again. “Come sit near the edge. Get to know Navar. Can you do that much?”

  He was relentless. Maybe if I made a small concession, he’d stop pressuring me. I ignored his hand, but tiptoed to the rim. After spreading my cloak over the tangleroot, I sat, carefully removing my shoes before easing my feet into the ocean.

  The water was warmer and thicker than river water, almost like cream. It lapped my shins like a puppy’s tongue. It didn’t seem so dangerous. Yet still, my fingers clutched the tangleroot through the fabric of my cloak until my knuckles turned white.

  Brantley settled beside me. I scarcely noticed, so intent on preventing an errant wave from knocking me loose. He gave a low whistle, and Navar extended her head and sailed toward us.

  I sucked in a sharp breath and leaned back.<
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  “There you go. You’re all right,” Brantley murmured. I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Navar or me. The stenella turned her bright gaze my direction and nodded her head.

  Brantley stroked her long muzzle. “You can touch her.”

  That would mean letting go. I couldn’t do that with an abyss stretched before me.

  Brantley glanced down at my clenched hands and sighed. He edged behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Warm, strong muscles embraced me. “I’ve got you.”

  As his chest rose and fell calmly into my back, my fluttering breaths slowed to match his. I convinced one of my hands to reach forward.

  Navar’s skin was soft as the finest leather. She emitted a low chortle, then wove her sinewy neck side to side in a subtle dance. I released tension from my shoulders, and gradually my neck relaxed enough to swing my head side to side in fluid oval shapes that mirrored her movements.

  Her eyes brightened, and she bobbed her head rapidly.

  Behind me, Brantley chuckled. “She likes you. I knew you two would get along.”

  Navar shifted and presented her broad back, twisting her neck to peer around at me.

  “She’s inviting you to ride. She doesn’t do that for just anyone.” Brantley’s words breathed against my ear.

  “I . . . I can’t.” Except Navar’s playful joy coaxed me in ways none of Brantley’s arguments could. The stiffness in my voice softened. “Can I?”

  “She’ll hold still for you. Sit astride her if that feels more secure. I’ll be right behind you.” Brantley shifted his hold on my waist before I could argue again. His grip was strong as he transferred me to Navar’s smooth spine. “See? Like riding a pony.”

  “I’ve rarely done that either.” I edged forward awkwardly, hoping to cling to Navar’s neck. But she faced the sea, stretching her long neck along the surface. Muscles rippled beneath me. Was she preparing to move? “Wait!”

  Brantley leapt to her back and knelt behind me. “I’ll hold you. Stop squeezing her so hard with your legs.”

  I hadn’t realized my heels were digging into the stenella’s ribs. Did she have ribs? And why was I worrying about her anatomy?

  She looked at us and gave a slow blink. Brantley raised one hand in the air and traced a slow circle with one finger.

  Navar tilted her head, her back rolling in what felt like a sigh, but she seemed to concede that this was going to be a tedious swim. She glided so gently, it took a few minutes for me to realize we were traveling. I glanced around and saw the shore melting away.

  My breath caught in my throat, lungs pumping unproductively. I was cut loose from our world! I squeezed my eyes closed, wanting the nightmare to end.

  “Open your eyes.” Brantley tightened one arm around my waist. “If you’ve never seen this before, it’s as magical as star rain.”

  Leaning against the security of Brantley’s chest, I persuaded my eyes to open. Navar turned, allowing me an easy view of land from a distance.

  The island looked huge. Miles of shoreline stretching in both directions.

  I widened my gaze.

  The island looked tiny. An insignificant world in a massive ocean.

  Somewhere deep in the center, the Order was striving to turn and stabilize this mass of land, like ants trying to tame a gale or contain a rushing river. Do they even realize how small we all are?

  A new fear rippled through me. If there was a Maker, how big must He be? No wonder a few words from His voice had overwhelmed me. Did He see us all as ridiculous insects, scurrying around His world like pests?

  Farther from shore, the waves grew larger. Navar picked up speed, slicing through them easily. Spray wafted against my skin.

  “Ready to herd some fish?”

  “Do we have to be out this far?”

  Brantley’s laughter billowed over the sound of water swooshing past us. “This isn’t far.”

  My fingers dug in to his arm, my legs still squeezing Navar’s sides, but I managed a smile. “I suppose breakfast is a good plan.”

  “Atta girl.”

  Navar picked up speed, but with such graceful movements I forgot to be terrified. Every few minutes, she’d slow to look back at Brantley, who would signal with a wave of his hand. When a flock of gulls appeared on the horizon, he whistled and she changed direction. The wind caressed my face as we danced through the water, gliding and turning as if sharing a pattern with the ocean.

  Brantley rested his chin on the top of my head. “We used to find schools of fish right off shore, but in recent years they’ve been harder to find. Another reason the rim villages can’t afford the Order’s taxes. In Windswell, people have been close to starving.”

  Navar began to zigzag, and my leg muscles cramped from their panicked grip. Even with Brantley’s arm holding me in place, I could far too easily imagine being flung off to sink beneath the waves.

  Brantley tightened his grip around my waist. “She’s found them. Get ready.”

  “Ready?”

  “Hold your breath.”

  “My breath? Why—?”

  Seawater slammed into my face and choked me. The ocean had risen. No, we were diving. Frantic coughs expended the last of my air. I glimpsed a small school of copper fish before us. Navar darted left and right, chasing them toward land.

  My lungs burned and I began to thrash against Brantley. Air. I need air.

  Seconds later, Navar surfaced. I sputtered and spit out sweet water, gasping in each breath.

  “I warned you to hold your breath.” Brantley’s casual amusement infuriated me. If I’d warmed to him during our days of traveling together, those feelings fled. Coughing and half-drowned, I hated him. Hated him for dragging me into the wild ocean and letting his creature pull us under to our deaths. Hated him for laughing at me.

  I slammed my elbow back.

  His air rushed out in a satisfying oomph. Let him feel starved for oxygen and see how he liked it.

  Too late, I realized how vulnerable I was. To his credit, he didn’t shove me off Navar or even release his secure hold on me. When he caught his breath, he leaned over my shoulder. “Did you think herders stayed on the surface? We go where the fish go.”

  I scooted forward, stiffening my spine. “Give me more warning next time.”

  He gave a wry chuckle. “Understood.”

  When we returned to the shore, Navar batted dozens of small fish up onto land. I’d never been so happy to touch the ground. I tugged on my shoes before stepping from the tangleroot to the dirt farther inland, but I was tempted to fall to my knees and kiss the bare ground. I picked up the cloak I’d left behind and threw it over my wet clothes.

  “I’m still not sure of the closest village.” Brantley gutted a fish and tossed it toward me. “Will you cook these while I go out and take another look?”

  “Go.” I shooed him off, glad to put distance between us. I didn’t want him seeing how much my hands shook from the ride that had been all in a day’s work for him.

  He leapt onto Navar’s back, and they raced out to sea. I paused from tending the fire to watch them. Each time Navar leaned into a turn, Brantley adjusted his stance. They moved like one.

  When they turned to face the shore, Brantley shielded his eyes and scanned in all directions. Then he held up his fist and flung it open.

  I squinted, not wanting to miss what they were doing.

  Navar picked up speed, her body rising higher out of the water. Then with a splash, what I’d thought were fins along the sides of her body unfurled, opening out like wings. She rose into the air, gliding above the water. Brantley continued to search for bearings, then whistled something to Navar.

  Fish charred over the flames, but I ignored our burning breakfast, awestruck. Navar and Brantley caught a gust of wind and gained elevation as they headed closer.

  From the height of a cottage roof, Brantley whooped, sprang into the air, flipped and dove into the waiting waves. When he charged up out of the water, he shook his head, an
d droplets scattered like bits of glittering glass. His mount lowered to the surface and glided to where Brantley floated.

  Navar’s squeaks and gurgles rose over the lapping of the waves before she dove. Ripples marked her departure.

  Brantley heaved himself onto land, as I gawked like an idiot. Was there nothing this man couldn’t do? Diving underwater, flying over the waves?

  He navigated the rolling ground and strode toward our fire, acknowledging my open mouth with a preening grin. Until acrid smoke made him wrinkle his nose. He grabbed a skewer of fish out of the flames. “I thought you were watching the breakfast.”

  “How high can she fly? Is she like a bird?”

  He swung the skewer to extinguish flames that had charred the scales of one fish. “No, she can only glide a bit. Figured a higher view might help. And it did.” He speared one of the cooked fish with his knife and offered it to me. “Hard to tell, because so much of the coastline looks the same, but I think we aren’t far from Windswell. Now that you can ride, we should reach it in a few days.”

  I accepted the food from him, but not the plan. “You promised to take me to Undertow.”

  He settled to the ground and warmed his bare feet by the fire. “You’re just full of demands, aren’t you, dancer?” He blew on a fillet and then took a big bite. “I haven’t forgotten. But we’ll reach Windswell first. I need to find out if Bri got home safely.”

  Once he reunited with his family, he’d have no reason to help me look for mine. My fish stuck in my throat.

  I pushed aside that worry and turned another skewer carefully along the edges of the flame. “Are there any villages along the way?” At his quizzical look, I shrugged. “It’s just . . . I can’t get Dancer Subsun out of my mind. She told me to search for a letter from the Maker. With all that’s happened . . .” I blew out a breath. “As soon as we find a settlement, I want to ask if anyone knows of it.”

  He stabbed his knife into the ground, his expression suddenly closed. “Look, I’ll get you to your village . . . against my better judgment. But I’m not getting involved in your silly quest for a Maker. Even if there were a Maker, He must be pretty ineffectual. He’s let the Order take control of our entire world.”