And then she felt the water. It welled between her hands, and in her surprise and delight, she let go.
The droplets fell to the ground at their feet and sank into the sand.
“I felt that!” she said. “Was that it? Did I help?”
Drystan’s eyes were wide, his mouth not quite closed. “I’m not sure what happened. It wasn’t like when my mother taught me. But yes, I think so. Here. Hold my hand and think of the sea. Look out at the waves and imagine them taking shape. Imagine the boat.”
Rinka looked at the waves. They were relatively calm here on this tiny stretch of beach, but they crashed with much more force on the cliffs that surrounded them. She struggled to hold the image of the boat within her mind—it was so peculiar; her mind resisted the thought. Or perhaps it was the sea that resisted.
Then Rinka felt a surge of power again, this one far stronger than before. It was odd, but she felt the question in it. Not the words themselves, but she felt the ask in the ‘lectric pulsebetween them. It was humble, almost apologetic. As if Drystan was conveying to the sea itself what a strange request this was.
The sea responded, or at least that’s what it felt like. The boat began to take shape in the shallow water at their feet. Each tiny crash of wave added to it, giving it form, until it was there before them, gently rocking in the waves and waiting for them to board.
“I don’t know if I did anything, but I could feel it,” said Rinka.
“I felt it too,” he said softly. “What did you think?”
“It’s wonderful!” Rinka beamed at him. “Can we do it again? Let’s make the oars. What about a sail? What’s that thing they use to steer—a rudder? Do you think that would help?”
Drystan smiled at her, dropping her hand. “Let’s keep it simple for now. I can’t let go—I have to keep holding onto the question or I’ll lose it like I did last night.”
“I’ll help you,” said Rinka. “Maybe it will make a difference.”
“It already has.”
They made the oars and took to the sea once more. The new boat maneuvered just as well as the old boat, and soon they were out far enough to avoid getting beaten back into the cliffs.
“Which way?” asked Drystan.
“You don’t know?”
“We know south will take us back towards Sudport. But we also know the current runs in the opposite direction. So maybe our best bet is to keep going further north and hope we find a break in these cliffs.”
“Didn’t you say it was all cliffs on this side?”
“Well, I knew there were cliffs here, but I didn’t exactly pay much attention to my geography tutor.”
A geography tutor, not a geography class. He had grown up well-off then. Rinka had been so distracted by their perilous situation and the thrill of experiencing magic firsthand that she hadn’t noticed all the information he had given her about himself.
“Let’s see where the current takes us. I doubt we have much choice about it anyway. Besides, worse comes to worst, we’ll just go all the way around the island and come across Sudport from the other side.”
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst-case scenario. The worst-case scenario was what actually happened: the current began to take them out to sea.
“We’re getting further out,” said Rinka a little over an hour later. The cliffs were still visible, but they were definitely shrinking, and quickly.
And in the distance to the east, storm clouds were beginning to gather. Lightning flashed between them ominously.
“I know,” said Drystan. She could hear the exhaustion and fear in his voice. “Let’s strike directly towards the shore and see if we can’t get out of this current.”
They began to do so, but it seemed to have little effect.
Rinka wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going. Her arms still hadn’t recovered from the night before, and she had only slept a few hours at best. And she was even more concerned about Drystan, who had to both row and maintain the magic holding the boat together.
How much more could he endure?
Rinka laughed. It was an odd response, and it elicited a puzzled reaction from Drystan.
“What’s so funny?”
