The Deepest Blue Page 13
Mayara shot a look at Roe—she looked as if she’d been drained of all her confidence. Her hands were shaking. She met Mayara’s eyes with a panicked look that clearly said, We were supposed to be a team!
Mayara saw other women around her looking equally troubled—during the three training days, they’d been getting to know one another with the goal of relying on one another. Several groups had already formed, and Mayara knew most of them had counted on sticking together. Certainly she hadn’t had any plans to run off by herself. Usually there was safety in numbers against spirits.
“You’ll be tempted to clump together anyway—share resources, protect one another. I’m telling you right now, that’s a mistake. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” A shadow crossed Sorka’s face, and for an instant, she looked more human than heir. Mayara hadn’t thought about the fact that Sorka had been on the island and survived, while others in her year hadn’t.
“Well, there goes that plan,” Palia muttered. “And every other viable plan.”
Roe attempted a wan smile. “I guess we’re on our own?”
This was a terrible twist. Mayara wished Sorka had told them earlier. At least then I could have gotten the additional panic out of the way sooner.
Sorka continued. “Another tip: as soon as we land, move. The spirits are bright enough to know where the new potential heirs come in, and they’ll be lying in wait. You want as much distance from this ship as possible. Head inland or up the coast. Either will work. Just get away. Don’t be stupid.”
Mayara felt her palms growing sweaty. She wiped them on her leggings. I need some kind of plan. Something without Roe and Palia . . .
She hadn’t realized how much she’d been counting on having Roe and even the fatalistic Palia with her. The thought of facing the island alone . . . I can’t do it! If she was with Roe and Palia, this all felt possible. Or at least more possible.
Roe squeezed her hand and mouthed, You can do this. Or possibly, I can’t do this!
Either way, Mayara squeezed her hand back. She thought of how she’d evaded the Silent Ones. Keep to the coast, and stay in the water. She’d have water spirits to contend with, but earth spirits would prefer the land, and fire and ice spirits wouldn’t want anything to do with the sea. As soon as we land on the shore, I’ll swim. And then I’ll find a place to hide.
Run and hide. That was her plan. After Heir Sorka’s announcement, she was more convinced than ever it was the right choice, heroic or not.
One month, and then I’ll see Kelo again. If he truly lives. She tried not to think about the fact that she and Kelo had only evaded the Silent Ones and their spirits for eight days, and that was on a familiar island.
Maybe I’ll be lucky.
She glanced over at Roe again. Maybe we’ll all be.
Chapter Ten
Akena Island was formed from the skull and neck vertebrae of a colossal leviathan that had attacked Renthia centuries ago. Greenery covered it, as lush as anything Mayara had ever seen, with coconut groves and bamboo forests in overflowing abundance. The cliffs of bone and stone were painted with purple, blue, and red flowers, and dozens of brightly colored birds flew above them. She heard the keening cry of monkeys and the caw of wild parrots. In short, it looked and sounded like a paradise.
But the feel of it . . .
She sensed the spirits even before they sailed into the cove. The island was teeming with them. Like stinging jellyfish beneath the pristine, beautiful surface of the sea. Except worse.
“The entire island is barely a mile wide,” Heir Sorka called across the ship. “You won’t ever see the Silent Ones, though—they’ll be stationed on a chain of outer islands beyond the reef. If you try to escape, they will catch you, and you will be executed. Can’t have super-powered traitors in Belene. The Silent Ones will be watching you through the eyes of the spirits that will be hunting you. So if you have that uncomfortable feeling that you’re not alone . . . you aren’t. You aren’t ever alone on Akena, and you aren’t ever safe. Get used to it.”
Swinging on a rope that dangled from one of the sails, Sorka crossed the deck and turned a winch to lower an anchor. No sailor would agree to come this close to Akena Island, so Sorka both helmed and manned the ship herself, occasionally barking orders at the Silent Ones and the spirit sisters. Now, though, she plunged the anchor into the reef below without any help.
When she’s finished with us, she’ll probably sail off solo and eat a sea monster for lunch. If Sorka was an example of the kind of woman you had to be to survive the island, then Mayara despaired of lasting a day.
The ship slowed as the anchor snagged on a chunk of rock or coral. Waves broke against its hull as it strained to continue drifting forward. All twelve women crowded on the port side of the ship, looking at Akena Island.
“You expect us to swim to shore?” Osa called.
“I have zero expectations,” Sorka said, “except that you will all be off my boat in the next three minutes, even if I have to push you off myself.”
They’d anchored inside a cove with a beautiful white-sand beach. Mayara could see coconut trees, heavy with coconuts, and banana trees that were overladen with countless bananas. I was expecting it to look more ominous. Skulls and decay. Stench of sulfur, not ripe fruit and hibiscus.
“Remember: the spirits have been without prey for a year,” Sorka said. “Do try not to get killed in the first hour.” But she wasn’t looking at any of the spirit sisters. Her eyes, Mayara saw, were fixed on the island itself. She looked as if she was remembering and the memories weren’t nice. What was her test like? Mayara wondered. Sorka had strictly, and undoubtedly deliberately, kept herself separate from the spirit sisters. She hadn’t chatted with any of them, hadn’t shared personal stories, hadn’t laughed with them or cried. Maybe so she won’t have to cry for us now.
“It doesn’t look so bad,” someone near Mayara said hopefully.
It was true.
A stretch of shallow sea lay between the ship and the lovely sand with its bounty of fruit. The stunningly clear water looked picturesquely perfect: the reef below, with schools of silvery fish. A brilliant green sea turtle glided lazily over delicate fanlike coral that waved in its wake.
“It looks like a trap,” Palia muttered beside her.
“Don’t swim toward the sand,” Mayara advised. “They’ll expect that.”
Roe was frowning. “I don’t sense any spirits anywhere near the cove.”
Reaching out with her mind, Mayara raked the waters of the cove. She didn’t sense any spirits nearby—all of them were packed tight onto the island itself, like wasps within a nest, ready to spill out. Still . . . the calm beauty of the cove felt deceptive. “I still think we shouldn’t swim toward the sand. Go toward the cliffs.”
Palia snorted. “Might be fine for you with your young muscles, but that’s the easiest place to go ashore. I haven’t climbed rocks since I was just married and looking to impress the in-laws.”
“Your in-laws were impressed by climbing skills?” Roe asked.
“Not with mine,” Palia said.
Roe laughed.
It was, Mayara thought, a slightly hysterical laugh.
All of them were delaying. No one wanted to be the first to leave the ship, the first to officially begin the test. Others were embracing, wishing one another luck, saying goodbye, consoling one another. A few were pleading with Sorka for more time.
“One of us has to go first,” Palia said.
“It’s shallow enough to walk, right?” Roe said, peering over the edge.
“Swimming will be faster,” Tesana advised. “Plus, if the coral cuts your feet, you could get an infection, which will kill you as surely as any spirit.”
“I can’t swim,” Roe confessed.
Palia leveled a look at her. “You’re just mentioning this now?”
“I can help you,” Mayara offered. She’d forgotten about Roe’s limitation. “I’ll swim with you.” She’d done it before in far les
s idyllic waters, rescuing swimmers who had been caught in currents or swum so far they didn’t have the strength to swim back. All she had to do was hook one hand under Roe’s armpit. She’d still have her legs and other arm to power her forward.
Roe opened her mouth to answer, but Palia cut her off. “You heard Heir Sorka. Pair up and you’ll be the first targeted. All of us have to go our separate ways.”
Roe nodded. “She’s right. I’ll be fine. Tough sandals.” Mayara studied her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or not. I promised we’d be a team. It felt wrong to split up, even though Mayara knew it was for the best.
They’re my friends, she thought. All of them. I don’t want to abandon them. She knew, though, that she didn’t have a choice. Heir Sorka had been very clear.
“Still doesn’t answer the question of who goes first,” Palia said.
“Me,” Mayara said.
Roe flashed her a smile, albeit one that quivered around the edges. “See? Hero.”
It wasn’t that. Not at all. She just couldn’t stand it another minute—the worry about herself, about Roe, Palia, Tesana, Osa, Balka, Dayine . . . It was tearing her apart caring about all these other women.
Maybe it had been a mistake to learn their names.
But it was too late now. She did care. And if she delayed any longer, she was going to lose her nerve entirely and Heir Sorka would have to force her off the boat and into the gaping maws of whatever spirits awaited them. “Good luck,” she told the other women. “Try not to die, okay?”
Roe and Palia called after her—wishing her luck, saying goodbye, shouting advice—as she strode to the rail, climbed up, and dived into the turquoise water.
All sounds melted away the instant she was underwater, and she swam forward with smooth strokes. She felt the water shift against her as the other women plunged into the bay. She opened her mind as Heir Sorka had taught them, feeling for spirits, as she swam not toward the lovely sandy beach but east toward the rocky cliffs.
She didn’t hear the screams. No, this was worse. She felt the screams, amplified through the spirits that came streaming into the cove—out of the greenery by the sands and down the cliffs into the waters of the cove. They had been waiting, watching the ship arrive, prepared for the moment that the women would jump into the water.
Mayara swam faster. Behind her, the spirits swarmed, spilling out from beyond the cliffs, rising up from below the water, diving down from the clouds above. She felt their greed like claws inside her stomach.
Must get away!
She stuffed the thought down fast, trying to keep her panic as quiet and small as possible so they wouldn’t hear her. Keep swimming. Just swim.
Feel the water.
Only the water.
Cool. Quiet. Calm.
See the coral below, the fish as they dart. I am one with the water, part of the sea. . . .
She jerked underwater, her stroke broken, as a ripple of emotion that wasn’t hers echoed through her body—it was from the spirits, their terrible glee. She rose up, gasped in air, and looked back toward the ship as she treaded water.
It was a feeding frenzy.
Spirits were swarming around the ship as the spirit sisters tried to swim for shore. The water was churning around them, frothing white with drops spraying high into the air. On the ship, Sorka was raising the anchor. Mayara could see her mouth moving, but the women’s screams were too loud for Mayara to hear what the heir was shouting.
The Silent Ones, standing along the railing of the ship, were motionless, watching the water. At least one woman was dead, her body floating in a cloud of red. Mayara tried to rise up in the water to see who.
Roe! Palia! Where were they? Were they—
Mayara spotted a few figures climbing out of the water onto the sand. One of them was Roe. Even though she must have walked from the ship, almost certainly slicing her feet, she was helping Palia out of the breaking waves. Not dead! Oh, thank the Great Mother.
I shouldn’t have left them. Never mind what Sorka had said about groups being targets. She shouldn’t have abandoned her friends—her new sisters—to their fate. She’d made a mistake, abandoning them. She should have stuck with them, like Roe had . . .
Switching directions, Mayara began to swim toward them—
One of the spirits noticed her. She felt its attention shift to her—it felt as if claws had pinched her brain—and then she saw the spirit across the waves. It was a warped kind of dolphin, with a body covered in iridescent scales and a mouth full of rocklike teeth. Skimming over the surface, it swam for her.
Pivoting in the water, Mayara fled, thinking of nothing but getting away. She didn’t try to control or deflect the spirit—and didn’t even remember she could. She focused only on the pull of the water against her hands, and she breathed as if she were in a race, sparingly, with efficient gulps that were a part of her rhythm.
Concentrating, she lost herself within the rhythm of her strokes. One, two, three . . .
She felt the spirit recede behind her, drawn to easier and more tempting prey.
I should help them! I shouldn’t be running away. Roe can’t even swim. . . .
But Roe had made it to shore. Palia too. And others, though she hadn’t gotten a good look at who. They’re safer without me. We’re all safer apart.
Sorka had said the spirits were drawn to groups, specifically targeting anyone who tried to work together, she reminded herself. She’d be safer, and they’d be safer, if everyone went off on their own. She’d seen that Roe and Palia had both made it to shore. She’d have to trust that they’d be able to use the cover of all the chaos to scatter and escape.
She remembered what Roe had said: you don’t have to outswim the shark; you just have to outswim the other swimmers. Which is what I did.
She felt guilt like a fist in her stomach.
There was nothing I could do. We were told to split up!
But she kept seeing in her memory the cloudy red water by the ship and the image of Roe helping Palia out of the water. Roe hadn’t abandoned the others to save herself.
The next time Mayara looked back, the ship had sailed out of the cove and was a speck in the distance, its sails bright against the blue sky. The water by the sand was deceptively calm, and Mayara could see a few spirit sisters running and hobbling into the thick green.
Trying to empty her thoughts, she kept swimming. Don’t think about spirits. But she felt them in the distance, their ugly glee. She was crying as she swam, her salty tears mingling with the salty sea.
Eventually, her arms began to tire. She was used to long swims, but even she couldn’t swim forever. Looking back, she saw that she’d swum far enough around the cliffs that she could no longer see the cove or the ship.
Maybe it’s safe to stop.
She thought of Heir Sorka’s final instructions: “You aren’t ever alone, and you aren’t ever safe.” Maybe “safe” wasn’t the right word, then. But she had to stop anyway.
Gliding on her side, she eyed the shore. In a way, she told herself, it was not so different from home: there were rocks, cliffs, and even caves. She swam toward a dark slit in between the rocks. Sending her mind probing into it, she felt for spirits. Empty.
Good.
Climbing onto the rocks, she wedged herself into the slit.
It wasn’t so much a cave as a nook, but it was sheltered enough from view that she could at least rest her limbs and catch her breath. Laying her head back against a rock, she peered out at the sliver of blue: turquoise-blue sea and brilliant blue sky.
It was still morning, she judged. And at least one of us is already dead. Most likely more. She hadn’t seen whose body floated in the bay, and she was grateful for that. She didn’t want to know who had died while she had lived.
It’s begun, she thought. It’s truly begun.
Chapter Eleven
Shelter, freshwater, and food. Those were her priorities.
And not dying. That too.
But for now . . .
Her arms and back ached from swimming so hard, and she was still gulping in air. She’d escaped. Barely. She thought of how Sorka and the Silent Ones had watched from the ship while the spirits fell in a frenzy on the potential heirs, and she wondered if they felt any guilt. They must have known that the spirits were waiting and watching, keeping themselves at just the right distance to lull them all into feeling as if it was okay to jump in the water. In fact, Sorka had hinted at as much in her warnings.
The spirits are hunting us.
By now, word must have spread that the women were here. Spirits could communicate with one another mind-to-mind. Her best bet was to give them nothing to hunt. Leave as little trace of herself as possible. Hide as much as she could. Avoid the spirits. Avoid the others.
She knew that wasn’t what she was supposed to do. She was supposed to fight. Learn to use her power, and either die in the attempt or succeed and become an heir. That was what the queen wanted them to do, but she didn’t believe it was possible. Not for me.
It hadn’t been for Elorna.
The waves lapped at the rocks, as if trying to reach her. Seafoam spirits chattered as they swam by, only a few yards from her hiding place. She sensed their urgency, their thoughts tumbling over one another.
Mayara waited quietly, her heart beating so fast and hard that she was sure they’d hear it. Eventually, they receded. She could still sense them, though, too close for comfort. But they were branching out, searching the island. Cautiously, she emerged, climbing on top of the rocks.
I have to keep moving. Get as far from the cove as I can.
Jumping off, she dived into the waves.
Underwater, a rainbow’s array of fish sparkled and glittered as they swam among pastel-colored coral. A blue crab scuttled by, and a jellyfish drifted in the current. She swam above the reef, and despite all the terror she felt, she couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders around her. The reef was gorgeous—brighter than any she’d ever seen, as if carved and painted by a master artist. The fish were more plentiful too, traveling in shimmering schools and drifting over orange anemones and pink coral. A few sand sharks glided lazily between them.