At only the thought, the touches turned to pushes, swirling and moving her through the water toward the brightness above her. An instant later, she shot out of the sea as though thrown up into the air. Ran prepared for the gasping she knew would follow, as her body fought to reclaim its breath.
As one of the sailors caught sight of her and called her name aloud, she realized something unbelievable had just happened to her—she had never stopped breathing. Ran had not even tried to hold her breath under the water. She was practiced at it and could remain under it for a few minutes, but this time, the instinct had never begun.
Then another shocking occurrence—when she had fallen back into the water, she did not swim but did not sink. Instead of the water sucking her down, it seemed to hold her up there, waiting for rescue. Warm, impossibly warm, though it felt almost solid beneath her body. She grabbed the rope and tugged the large loop over her head and down under her arms.
“I thought we’d lost you, Ran,” Bjorn said, as he pulled her over the side and helped her to her feet. “I’ve never seen a boat pitch that far without capsizing completely. It seemed to pause for a moment, neither leaning nor righting itself. Strange that.”
“Nor I,” she said, tugging the laces and freeing her sodden cloak. “A sudden wind?” Ran glanced at the man who’d sailed for more years than she’d lived. The winds could be unpredictable any time on the sea, but during this transition from winter to spring, even more so.
“Nay, calm.” Bjorn waved to one of the other men. “Get blankets.”
She should be shivering. She should be shuddering from the temperature of the seas at this time of year and yet, the water that her clothing and hair held remained warm. Just as it had beneath the surface. Ran allowed Askell to wrap a thick woolen shawl around her shoulders.
“You should go and change out of those garments. I do not wish to explain your sickening or worse to your father, Ran,” Bjorn ordered in a soft voice. From the expression in his gaze, this had scared him.
It scared her.
More though, it confused her. She rarely lost her balance when sailing. And Ran did not suffer when moving onto land after being on a boat or ship—each step was sure and steady. So, falling into the water as she had puzzled her.
No matter what or how, she did not wish her father to be concerned and question her suitability for the tasks that lay ahead of her. Their bargain had been bitterly fought and she would not give it up now.
“A rogue swell,” she whispered before facing Bjorn. “A rogue swell caught the boat. I am well,” she said. “There is nothing to tell my father.” Bjorn’s weathered face told her nothing. “All of us have ended up in the water. ’Tis the way of it amongst those who spend their lives on the sea.”
Ran met his gray gaze and waited for his decision. Her father sought an excuse to forbid her from sailing on his ships and this would be enough. He wanted her married and settled, whether in Orkney or one of the many ports where his business interests lay. She wanted the freedom of the sea.
“You look no worse for it, lass,” he finally said, glancing away. “But if anything else . . .”
She reached out and hugged Bjorn, kissing his leathery cheek before he could say more. “We are nearly home. All will be well, I swear it,” she said.
“Go now,” he stepped back and nodded. “You are soaked through to the skin. Change your garments.”
Knowing how much it took the man to agree not to reveal this to her father, she nodded and left him there without another word. As she went below deck, Ran glanced back to find Bjorn staring at her. Had he heard the voices? Had he seen the way she’d been thrown back into the air? Or had he noticed the warmth in her wet clothing?
She would not ask him for it was pure folly to think that there could be voices in the water. Or to think that she breathed under its surface. Or think the water somehow saved her. Ran was not prone to visions or hearing things that were not there, so she could not explain it all. Better to let it lie rather than bring up matters she could not answer.
As she undressed and dried off, Ran noticed the new mark on her arm. Had she hit it as she’d fallen over the railing? Or mayhap as Bjorn and the others pulled her up? It was red like a bruise but, as she examined it, it changed. It moved. It almost looked as though there was something moving under her skin. And then the burning began, sending little bursts of pain through her skin.
Tearing off a strip from her still-wet shift, Ran wrapped it around her forearm covering this injury. The coolness of the bandage soothed it as she’d hoped it would. One little bruise or scrape was nothing compared to what could have happened to her, so she continued dressing and returned to the deck above to watch the rest of the journey.
Though Bjorn and the others never took their watchful gazes off her, the final part of the journey was uneventful. Within hours they turned northward and made their way into the center of the islands and her father’s home in Orphir. His fleet of ships moored in the nearby Kirkwall Harbor during the high sailing season but he kept only a few this far north over the winters. The rest would be moved soon, since Orkney was the center of the world in which Svein Ragnarson ruled with his widespread shipping business.
A shipping empire that she would be part of. That she would inherit. One that she would control.
For that, she could bear returning home and chance seeing the man who had driven her away two years ago. The possibility of seeing Soren Thorson again and the pain she would suffer were costs she would willingly pay for the rewards she would gain.
They arrived in Orphir to find that her father had not yet returned from northern Scotland. ’Twas not unusual, especially considering the storms she’d seen to the south. The last message from him said he would be here within a sennight of her arrival. So she would have time to visit with other kin and even the few people she called friends before she left Orkney for good.
Her father’s servants were as efficient as ever and she found herself settled into her old chambers quickly. Aired and with fresh linens on the bed, the room welcomed her home. A hot meal was promised for later and a tray of bread and cheese sat before her within minutes. Waiting on her father’s return would not be such a bad thing while she was being cared for like this.
She did not sleep while at sea, so she decided to rest a day before going into Kirkwall, to the market and to see to tasks she needed to complete before her father arrived. Tasks her brother would have seen to if he’d returned with her. But Erik had been a victim of Soren’s betrayal as much as she’d been and he’d vowed to never return to their home.
As she drifted off to sleep, it was not dreams of that man that filled the hours until dawn, but the sounds of the water swirling around her. Especially the voices in the water. Impossible voices speaking impossible words.
Ran.
Daughter of the sea. Waterblood.
Power. Command us.
