Then nothingness…and now here.
The sea once again.
“Warden?” I call out, but I’m pretty certain he isn’t here.
Why would he be? I should have heeded Queen Wynter’s warnings about the Yeavering. It would never take me to wherever this place is and let Warden come with me. I’ve been taken. Taken away from the Barghest castle, taken away from Warden, and taken even further away from any answers I might have obtained about why I’m here.
And why I still remember so little about my life beyond the veil, back with humans.
I get to my feet with a groan. My head pounds and the stench of rotting everything, the type you can only ever get at the seaside, makes me want to puke. My dress is damp from where I was lying, and I feel sticky in the way only salty air can make you feel.
I make my way over to the edge of the stone platform. The dark water laps at the green, slimy stone, oily and unpleasant. I scan my surroundings. There’s a set of rough-cut stone steps, also green with algae, which lead up and up into the cliff face.
“Up and out,” I murmur to myself, but my voice, however quiet, echoes loudly within the space, coming back to me with the wordout-out-outrunning around the walls.
I don’t respond. It’s as if the cave has been designed to intimidate, and given what I last encountered in the sea, I make the decision to ignore it, putting my hand at my side and finding the sword there, reassuring as ever.
But why take me and not take my weapon? I know the sword is ready. It’s been telling me what it can do for as long as I remember, which, admittedly, isn’t as long as I actually should be able to remember. But the thing hasn’t done me any wrong.
As to why I still have it, I’m not going to complain. Instead I tuck up the front of my dress into my belt and carefully climb the ultra-slippery steps. It’s not easy at all. The slime seems determined to make me fall, but I keep a grip on the stone walls, which are less slippery and, even when my feet go, I have agood enough hold I don’t end up all the way back down where I started.
The steps finally reach a small platform, invisible from the sea below, and a stone arch which leads into a dark passage, through which I can see daylight once again. I move as swiftly as I can, still taking care where I put my feet because this is the Yeavering…and it can’t be trusted.
The only thing I should have trusted was Warden. My big bad Brag. A centaur who tugs at his short horn when he’s concerned, who, despite having no experience, has been able to make my body sing in ways I could never have imagined.
I should have trusted him more, made him open up more, rather than letting my own concerns take up head space. My lack of memory could have waited. Dealing with the Thegn should have been more important. Because here I am, Warden-less.
Voices echo down the passage to me.
“What did you do with the Dunnie?”
“I sent it back. It was a liability I didn’t need.”
At least I am armed, I tell myself as I reach the end of the passage and the light grows bright in my vision. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and it means, as I step out ready to face the voices and my captors, for a moment everything is white.
“I thought you said she wasn’t going to wake,” a familiar voice growls as my eyesight is adjusting.
“I thought you said you’d put her somewhere safe, Beal.”
With a couple of blinks, I find myself in a small stone courtyard, open to the sky. Above us, gull wheel. On the far wall is something which can only be described as a throne, if it had grown out of stone and, as the sunlight hits it, it sparks sand. Here and there is a flash of red coral embedded therein.
What lounges on the throne is a figure of nightmares. Beside him, looking as terrifying as I recall, is the Shellycoat, his brows drawn over his eyes, dark and dangerous.
“She was in the harbour. It’s the same as safe,” the Shellycoat rasps. “She should not have been able to get out.”
“And yet, here she is,” the Thegn says, waving a hand which is more smoke and bone than an actual appendage. Its face swirls between something solid and something liquid, a set of red eyes burning through it all.
“Shouldn’t be possible.”
“Ah, but it is, for this little female.” The Thegn does something which is probably beckoning. “Come, my dear, show Beal here the thing he missed when he failed to do his job properly.”
I flatten myself against the stone behind me, wondering if it’s too late to go back down to the sea or, in fact, anywhere these two are not.
“Come, show us the sword,” the Thegn says, almost playfully.
“You wouldn’t want that,” I reply, surprised at the strength of my voice.
The Thegn turns to the Shellycoat and looks him up and down. “She’s right. Unsheathing that thing might not be good for your health.”
