Vast and Brutal Sea

  Her smile grows bigger when I don’t have a comeback.

  “I didn’t lose things,” I growl.

  “So you can be serious.”

  When she stands directly in front of the ivy, it parts like a curtain.

  “A tunnel,” I say. “Of course.”

  “You first.”

  I hesitate.

  “You haven’t spent much time in darkness, have you?”

  “Only at the water park,” I say, swinging my feet into the opening. “The Slip ’N Slide is my favorite.”

  “Then slip and slide, Land Prince,” she says.

  “Will you untie my hands at least?”

  “Of course, Land Prince. But first get in.”

  I sit at the mouth of the tunnel. It angles down and off to the side. She slices through my ropes. Before I can say another word, she shoves me down the hole.

  I must’ve hit my head. The numbness on my skin returns. My temples throb, and the foggy edges of my vision are back. I instantly recognize my grandfather’s chambers in Toliss Island. This time I’m looking at Gwen. Her face is pale and sad. Gray eyes are cast down at her lap. She’s in human form with white and black scales at her ankles.

  “Gwenivere!”

  She snaps her head up and stands. Her hair is gathered into a braid at the top of her head. Pearls and shells are woven like a crown. Her dress is an ivory sheath that shows her scales at her calves. Princess Gwenivere in all her splendor. The daughter of the silver mermaid.

  “Are you listening to us?”

  I know that voice anywhere by now. Nieve’s slithering voice fills the cave of the room.

  “Forgive me, Mother.”

  Nieve swims in a backlit pool. The Staff of Eternity is in her hands. She’s not the weak and frail mermaid of weeks ago. A blush colors her ivory cheekbones, and her pale eyes spark with frenzied energy. But when she tries to channel her magic through the staff, nothing happens. Her forehead crinkles with concentration, and I want to laugh because her third of the trident is failing too.

  “Mother, what is it?”

  “Something is wrong—the boy must be doing it.”

  Gwen shakes her head. “We both know Tristan isn’t capable of that.”

  I resent that.

  “Perhaps you exhausted yourself with the battle, taking the island, keeping La—the girl—conscious. Even you have your limits.”

  “I don’t want to have limits,” Nieve seethes. “I want to be limitless.”

  Archer runs into the room. His jaw is bruised where Kurt hit him the day before, but the rest of him is patched up. He kneels before Nieve and she strokes his patchwork face, her own creation. “It’s done, Mother Queen. Anyone who has opposed us is in the cells.”

  “And my brother?”

  “The king is gone,” he says nervously. “There is no sign of him.”

  Nieve reaches into her well of power. It fills me with a rage I’ve never felt before. Then she releases it at Archer. He slams into the white stone wall. Gwen stands to tend to him, but after one look at Nieve, she sits back down.

  “What was that, my child?”

  “Karanos,” the merrow groans, standing at attention. “The leech Karanos is gone.”

  Nieve holds her hands to her face. “You see what he makes me do? He makes me hurt my own children.”

  Archer comes back for more, this time on both knees, placing his head on his mother’s lap. He’s so big. He could squeeze the life out of her with one hand. But despite all of it, she made him. She saved him when the Sea Court decreed that all children born deformed—merrows—would be executed or left in caves where they would not be able to survive in the wilderness.

  I try to shake Nieve’s thoughts out of me, but it’s like we’re one person.

  She moves her tail in the pool, as if she sees something in the water. “I know my brother. I know where he will go. Gwenivere, you will go after him. As for the girl—”

  The girl. The girl. The girl.

  “Is she awake yet?”

  Archer nods. “Do you want me to break her?”

  “No!” Gwen stands. “She’ll be worthless unless she’s untouched. Tristan—”

  “Tristan will do as I say as long as I have her. Her condition means nothing to me.”

  “But—”

  “Your infatuation with the boy is clouding your better judgment,” Archer says.

  Gwen steels herself. “I am not infatuated.”

  Gwen and Archer are face to face. He’s twice her size, but Gwen is drawing on her magic. Sparks fly from her fingertips.

  “There’s that fire, my darling girl.” Nieve chuckles. “We’ll need it to bring our people together. For too long we’ve cowered before my brother and his love of humans. Send out more search parties for Tristan. He can’t have gone far.”

  “What about Kurtomathetis?” Gwen says.

  Nieve keeps her hands on the staff, gripping it and searching for the magic. “My allies tell me he will bow to me before sunrise.”

  “What allies?”

  Nieve studies Gwen’s beautiful face. The thin, pearly scars that run down the right side of her face, shoulder to hip bone. “You have never questioned me before.”

  Gwen lowers her head. She takes Nieve’s hand and holds it to her face, kissing the center of her palm. “I mean no offense, Mother Queen.”

  Nieve looks at Archer and Gwen in a way that makes my skin crawl. It’s the way that my mother looks at me, like no matter what I do, she’ll love me forever. I didn’t think the silver mermaid was capable of feeling. I don’t want to think of her this way. I don’t want to think of her at all.

  “Go now,” Nieve tells Gwen.

  And she does, leaving Archer in the glittering room that once was my grandfather’s chamber.

  “The girl, Mother Queen?”

  Nieve winces. Presses her hand to her forehead. A drop of red stains the pristine blue of her pool. She rubs the red stain between her fingers. Their voices become distant, like we’re on opposite ends of a dark tunnel.

  “Break her.”

  “Lord Sea.”

  Hands lift my face and smack my cheeks.

  “Lord—Tristan, wake up!”

  I open my eyes to Dylan looking over me. Tiger Eyes is at his side. The white sun beats down on us. I sit up and my head throbs where a bump has formed beneath a gash. Bright red blood comes away on my fingertips. I smear them on the grass.

  “Where are we?”

  “You weren’t breathing,” Tiger Eyes says. “The Lion breathed air back into your body.”

  CPR. Dylan gave me CPR.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Are you going to tie us up again?” I ask, willing my head to stop spinning. I stand and dust grass and pebbles off my ass and legs.

  “I think we understand each other now.” She slings her bow around one shoulder and holds my belt of weapons firmly in the other hand.

  Dylan and I walk on either side of her. Since neither of us know where the hell we’re going, we should just let her lead, even though I have a tendency to walk ahead. She didn’t answer when I asked her where we are, and I know she’s not going to tell me. My best guess is we’re in the middle of the Vale of Tears, where the River Clan is. Here the sun is brighter, at a high noon, and the moon is a crescent resting on the horizon.

  Everything is the new, wet green of spring. The earth is soft, almost too soft for my quick, heavy New York City footsteps. Countless thin streams run like snakes across the ground. I can’t see where they end, but I bet I could walk for miles and still not find it.

  “At least you ditched your toy soldiers,” I say, wanting to keep our conversation light.

  But I’ve spoken too soon.

  Figures rise out of the stream, liquid molding into the flesh of men
and women. They’re translucent at first, like glass mannequins with their insides showing. Then they’re solid, skin ranging from pinks and algae blues to browns and white. All of them, men and women, braid their long black hair in thick braids that end at their tailbones.

  “That’s different,” I say.

  “Come,” Tiger Eyes says.

  The warriors walk around Dylan and me. I liked it better when it was just the three of us. At least Tiger Eyes throws me a smile every now and then.

  “Finally, he’s shocked into silence,” one of the guys says.

  But it’s not them that keep me quiet. It’s the thought of Nieve telling Archer to break her.

  And me here, unable to go to her.

  My insides are painful, bloody knots ready to burst.

  So I focus on our footsteps. The trees are wilder here, tall and weeping over scattered ponds of water and the snake-like streams. The rush of the river is close by. And the sun is a white disk in a cloudless turquoise sky.

  “Are we there yet?” I ask three times until I can pinpoint the guy who wanted to shoot an arrow through my jaw. I make a mental note of him—the one with the greenish pallor and muddy brown eyes. My hand itches for my dagger.

  “We’re here,” Tiger Eyes says. Here is a stone and wood archway.

  A curtain of vines gives way to our troop, and when we walk in, a small village of people is waiting for us.

  They’re wonderful to look at—some in their semi-fluid form and others in solid colors that match the woods. I suddenly imagine being a kid and trying to play hide and seek. No one would win.

  A woman with skin like beaten leather, eyes as dark as earth and violet hair braided to her hip bones, breaks from the crowd.

  “Land Prince,” she says to me, her voice thick like smoke. The kind of voice that can soothe a child’s ache but then turn around and sentence a man to death. “Son of the Western Seas,” she says to Dylan. “I am Isi, leader of the River Clan.”

  “Ih-sea,” I repeat.

  She nods gracefully. “Welcome.”

  “Welcome?” I ask. “Do you bind and blindfold all your welcome guests?”

  “You cannot blame us for wanting to keep our home secret and safe.”

  A hundred eyes descend on me.

  I straighten my posture. “I would have come willingly. I came here for you.”

  Isi nods. “You want our secrets.”

  “Yes.”

  “There are many steps to this, Tristan Hart.”

  “I will take them.”

  The old woman and Tiger Eyes smile at each other, like they’re sharing an inside joke. “So eager. Eagerness is foolish. Though I am told it’s part of your charm, as far as charm will take you.”

  I like making jokes, but I don’t like being the butt of them. “Good men died to get me here. I won’t leave until you help me.”

  “Men?” Isi repeats it like she’s not sure she heard me right. She stares at me for a long time. They all do. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be in the spotlight, but this kind of scrutiny makes my insides shake because I want—no—I need their approval.

  “Come,” Isi says finally. “Be judged by our Elder Council.”

  I swallow. “Judged?”

  “Make yourself at home, Lion,” Tiger Eyes tells Dylan. Then she throws my weapons on the ground and I pick up the cut harness.

  Dylan looks like he doesn’t know whether to stay or take his chances with the beast back on the outer ring.

  When Isi steps into the village, the crowd parts for her. Tiger Eyes follows and I’m a close third, keeping my eyes on the back of Tiger Eyes’ head. I feel like schoolyard rules apply to islands outside of time. Don’t look at anyone the wrong way, and you’ll live another day. I could be looking at the scenery, but I’m sure I’m not missing much other than trees, and we have those back home. I don’t realize how nervous I am until we reach a giant tent.

  Isi holds the flap-door aside, and all I can think is that it leads into a black hole. But like all things, this is a test. A judgment. I have to see it through.

  Plus, they gave me my weapons back, so they’re okay, right?

  I step inside and am overcome by the smell of old leather and herbs. A hunched figure with a black veil sits at the center. My heart is racing like a jackrabbit in mating season. I’m covered in a cold sweat.

  Isi and Tiger Eyes sit on either side of the veiled woman. Then they’re joined by a fourth shape that slithers from the ground, first liquid, then changing into the warrior that wanted to skewer me on the way here. By the look on his grumbly face, I can tell we’re going to be fast friends.

  “Do the rest of you have names?” I ask.

  The veiled woman nods. “As the tree and the sky have names, we are called many things.”

  “I just need one.”

  “Sit, Tristan Hart,” Isi says.

  So I do.

  Tiger Eyes is fighting a smile as she says, “I am Yara.”

  Grumble says, “I am Karel.” But I much prefer Grumble or, you know, Hater.

  I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t help much. “Has anyone ever told you that you guys come on a little strong?”

  “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Grumble says.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly.

  Isi wants to smile. I know she does. Instead, she gets down to business.

  “You are here to attain something from us.”

  Maybe my body is getting used to the heat in the tent, or maybe as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I’m not as nervous. “How’d you guess?”

  “No one comes to the Vale of Tears without wanting something. We’re a cursed land.”

  “Cursed by—?”

  “King Karanos. Your grandfather.”

  I look down at my lap. “Of course. But you’re not exactly merpeople. Unless you have tails somewhere down there.”

  Yara lifts her chin. She wants to smack me but can’t. If I’ve learned one thing these past few weeks, it’s that sea people take their secret meetings seriously. “We are older than the children of Poseidon. We are of the river. We are eternal.”

  “So you can go from water to solid. But you’re not merpeople. But you belong to the Sea Court.” I nod, trying to make sure I got it all straight.

  “You make our trials sound trivial,” Grumble says.

  “I’m not. I’m trying to understand.”

  “When the silver princess rebelled and attacked the crown,” Isi says, “we were caught in the middle. We helped her control her magic, and as punishment, the court claims one of our daughters every mortal year.”

  “And we have to hide here and lose more kin to the beast,” Karel adds.

  “That charming thing that almost ate me and Dylan?”

  “The Naga. She is also part of our punishment. She eats more and more of our warriors when the dark falls over the Vale.”

  “None of you can kill her?”

  They shake their heads in unison, but it’s Isi who speaks. “She is cursed to roam the forest until we are freed of her by a direct child of Triton.”

  Their eyes settle on me. Is it getting hot in here? “Me.”

  If it gets them to help me with the Sleeping Giants, save Layla, and beat my enemies, I’ll go get that beast right now.

  “What are we doing here then?” I unsheathe Triton’s dagger. “Point me in the right direction.”

  Grumble chuckles. Then it catches on with the others, even the woman under the veil, and all four of them are seconds from melting into laughing puddles.

  “I wasn’t being funny.”

  They go on laughing.

  “I’m serious!”

  “Our warriors have been after the Naga for endless days,” Isi says. “Do you think a boy could do
better?”

  But I know the answer she wants. She wants a yes, because I’m pretty sure this boy is the one they’ve been waiting for.

  “You just said—”

  “We said ‘a child of Triton,’” the veiled woman says in her raspy voice. “That is you.”

  “So—”

  Isi cuts me off. “That doesn’t mean you’re ready to go against the Naga.”

  “I’ll get ready. As we speak, Nieve is doing more and more damage. She’s taken over Toliss Island.” I point to the tent door, but I might as well be pointing to the North Pole because direction means nothing here.

  “The Silver Queen will get nowhere without that—”

  They look at my scepter.

  No, but if I don’t show, she’ll get Layla. Break her.

  “Tonight we will welcome you to our people,” Isi says, holding her hands out to touch my face. “Then you will give yourself to us, body and soul, for training. Your world is not going anywhere without you. Not while you’re here. Do you accept?”

  I’m not sure if they are the kind of people you shake hands with. But I know that words mean a lot more in these strange worlds than they do back home. “I accept.”

  The village is riled up after our arrival. The electricity in the air reminds me of the minutes before prom. Girls with crowns of leaves and branches walk past me whispering behind their hands. They could make themselves invisible, but they want to be seen. And I’ve never been one to shy away, so I offer my best Tristan Hart smile.

  The judgy elders don’t follow me out of the tent, which makes them the worst hosts in the Vale of Tears.

  Or they trust me enough not to raze their village when left to my own devices.

  Even though I’m miles away from Coney Island, I still feel like one of the freaks on display at the sideshow. Hundreds of eyes follow me as I walk through the tents, along paths lined with smooth stones.

  When I hear my name, I freeze. I’m dreaming. I have to be.

  Brendan and Kai—clean and clothed in the green leather of the tribe—push their way through the scattered throngs of villagers to get to me.

  “You’re alive!” I say, seconds away from pulling them into an after-school-special group hug. But I’m keenly aware of the villagers watching our every move.