Water & Storm Country (26 page)

“Because
you
didn’t, sir. I followed
your lead, because—”

“You take your job very seriously,” I finish
for him, my mouth full. Barney was right, they
do
taste
better when bitten into rather than broken off. Strange.

“Aye, that and I have nothing against the
bilge. They’re good workers, rarely make trouble—well, except for
the one who’s caught your eye, that is.”

“She has not
caught
my eye
,
Barney.”

“Of course not, sir.”

“Barney?”

“Aye, Lieutenant.”

“Do you know where the bilge…where the
workers come from?” There are crumbs stuck in my throat so I take a
sip from the mug. The warm drink slides down easily.

“It’s all very secretive, but I assume we
trade with foreigners for them. Somewhere beyond storm country.”
Barney scratches his head. “Captain Montgomery once told me—he’d
been drinking all afternoon, mind you—that they come from a place
called fire country.”

My heart speeds up. I knew she was telling
the truth! I knew it.

“And what might be traded for them?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest idea,”
Barney says.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re most welcome. And sorry again
about…the bite marks.” He turns to leave.

“Barney?”

“Aye, sir?” He turns back.

“There are crumbs in your beard,” I say,
unable to hold back a chuckle.

~~~

The rain’s been pounding us for days, so
strong and endless that all hands are on deck, using buckets to
bail it over the sides. The bilge too, only, with no buckets left
they have to use their hands.

I don’t look at her, like I’ve done all week.
I’m not sure if she knows why I’ve been ignoring her, but I won’t
risk so much as a sideways glance in her direction, not when Hobbs
continues to lurk.
I’m all over you
.

Drenched from head to toe, my arms ache as I
scoop another half-bucket of water, dumping it over the side just
as the ship crashes into a mountainous wave, dumping ten times more
water back on top of me. It’s a never ending battle, I realize as I
come up spluttering. One of the sailors was knocked clean over by
the wave. I help him to his feet as thunder erupts overhead.

Just one more day
, I think as I once
more fill my bucket. It’s the same thing I’ve thought every day.
Only the storm never seems to end.

Although I wouldn’t have thought it possible,
the wind strengthens, coming in bursts and blasts that threaten to
knock every man and woman off their feet.

Above us, there’s a horrendous
riiiip!
as if the very sky above us is being torn in two. I look up to find
a ragged gash in the main sail, opened up by one of the wind
bursts.

And then I see her. Not because I was seeking
her out, or because I’ve forgotten to avoid looking at her, but
because she’s right where I’m looking, climbing the rain-soaked
mast, for once using the ladder, clinging to it like I usually
do.

Jade’s headed right for the tear in the sail
and it’s clear she’s going to try to repair it.

No
, I think. Even with her skill in
climbing, attempting to use the rope bridges, which are swinging
wildly, is suicide in the middle of a tempest such as this. But
what can I do? Hobbs has stopped bailing, too, is watching her
climb. He looks at me, right at me—a challenge.
Whatcha gonna
do, sailor?

Lightning sizzles in jagged streaks above us,
so close I can smell burning in the air. I stumble when the ship
breaks over a tall wave, plummeting down the steep side, tossed
about like a leaf in a whitewater river. Grabbing the railing, I
regain my balance and look up. Jade has missed a ladder rung and is
hanging by her hands, which are slipping, slipping…

My breath catches as her feet scrabble wildly
below her, but then they find purchase, somehow managing to find
traction on the slick foothold.

Danger looms from above.

The next wave.

How did it get
above
the ship? Do
waves have wings?

Dozens of shouts rise above the thunder as
the wave rains upon us, knocking each and every man and woman and
white-skinned and brown-skinned person off their feet.

I’m swimming. I’m on the ship and I’m
swimming, gasping for breath, choking on saltwater and pushing
seaweed out of my eyes. Still alive, still fighting.

And then the ship lurches over the next wave,
tilting so far that the pool of water rushes off over the side and
back to whence it came. I slide along the deck, not stopping until
I slam into the railing, tangled with another man—the sailor I
helped up earlier?—and a hefty woman who works in the kitchens and
is known to eat more of what she cooks than those she cooks it
for.

But I barely see them, barely feel their arms
and legs as we pull apart, because…

Because…

My eyes are glued to the mast, which is
swaying, creaking, and finally
cracking
—with an awful
splintering, ear-wrenching
CRRRACKKK!—
as Jade climbs higher
and higher, past the torn sail, all the way to the bird’s nest,
where she manages to slip over the side, disappearing from
sight.

Still lying on my back and feeling the Big
Blue rage beneath the ship, I drop my gaze to the base of the mast,
where a thin jagged line of black has formed in the wood. The mast
is badly damaged, maybe permanently, but it’s still upright, not
broken through completely.

And she’s up there.

I realize someone else is tangled up with me,
straining beneath my weight, pushing me away. When I roll to the
side and look back, it’s Hobbs, glaring. “Rally the men!” he
shouts. “This is too much, we have to make for land, run aground if
we have to.”

There’s no time. The mast could collapse at
any moment. Another wave, a burst of wind, a lightning strike.

“You do it,” I say. “I have to do
something.”

His mouth contorts in anger. “You may be the
lieutenant on board, but I’m still your superior officer. You’ll do
as I command!”

I shake my head and clamber to my feet,
squinting through the blistering rain.

With Hobbs cursing behind me, I run for the
mast.

The damage is even worse than I thought.
Structurally, the mast is destroyed, splintered both vertically and
horizontally, sharp shards of wood sticking out at weird angles.
Half of it, however, is still holding strong, as thick as a man’s
thigh. I’ll be lucky if I make it to the top before it breaks.

But I have to try. I killed for her. I lied
for her. And now I have to save her.

The ladder rungs feel like they’re made of
water, not metal. Before I can even get a grip, my fingers slide
away. I try again, this time being careful to lock my fingers
around them.

My feet slip twice on the way to the top, but
each time I manage to regain my footing. Three times I have to stop
and just hang on as the ship climbs and topples over waves that
seem more like Big Blue’s fists than rolling mounds of water. He
punches us, kicks us, but still the ship floats.

There are shouts from below, and I know it’s
Hobbs who’s rallying the men, the women, the bilge—saving us, doing
my job, or Captain Montgomery’s, or both.

Head down, I climb the last few rungs,
hearing a voice from above. “Huck!”

I look up and Jade’s arms are there,
stretching to grab me, to pull me into the crow’s nest. I tumble
over the side in an exhausted heap. Jade’s hugging me, but not
awkwardly or passionately or anything normal. It’s more like
clinging
to me, and I realize I’m clinging right back.

Water sloshes around us, escaping through
cracks in the lookout structure, but refilling faster than it can
be emptied.

“We have to get down before it collapses!” I
yell amidst a sudden clap of thunder.

Jade’s entire body shakes as she nods,
trembling with cold and fear in my arms. Gone is her tough
exterior. Was it all an act or has she just reached her limit?

Whatever the case, I must be strong for her
now.

I stand, pulling her up with me, peering over
the side. The crew, under Hobbs’ command, has managed to turn the
ship. The air is so thick with rain and fog that they can’t
possibly be sure of the right direction. More likely we’ll be
sailing in circles until the storm passes.

The ship lurches sharply one way and then
back the other, rolling over the mountains of waves. Each change in
direction puts strain on the mast, which, miraculously, is still
holding strong.

Maybe, just maybe, we can get down before
it’s too late…

CRRREAKKK!

The mast sways when it’s hit by a giant’s
breath of wind.

CRRAACKKKK!

It shatters, shuddering and groaning,
wavering one way and then the other. The Deep Blue beckons it,
calling for wood and blood and destruction and debris.

“Huck!” Jade cries as we fall, clutching at
me as I clutch the side of the bird’s nest.

We fall, slowly at first, but then faster and
faster.

This can’t be happening. A bad dream. A
really bad dream.

I stare into the waiting arms of the waves.
There’s nothing to be done. Nothing but fall and beg for mercy,
think silent prayers.
Deep Blue, please take me instead of her.
Let my life be your sacrifice. Take me. Please.

All I see in the face of the Deep Blue is
hunger. There will be no trade. Not when He can have us both.

SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!

One by one, the rope bridges we so carefully
constructed to allow us to repair the sails break off, snapping
past us, cracking like whips. One lashes my face, stinging my skin.
If we can only grab one, swing away…

It’s too late—far too late for action.

The Deep Blue calls my name.
Huuuuuuuck!

The impact of hitting the water is as
powerful as the shock. Water surrounds, cold and frantic, trying to
force its way into my mouth, my nose, to pull me under. I clutch
the splintered shards of wood sticking out from the bird’s nest,
cutting my hands. Fighting for my life. That’s when it hits me:

Where’s Jade?

F
irm hands shake me
awake in the dark. “Sadie!” a voice says.

Reflexively, I reach out, grab the hands with
my own. Heat flashes in my head and chest. The hands are rough and
strong and Remy’s.

I let go like I’ve been burned.

“What is it?” I say.

“It’s, uh, I’m supposed to, um…”

I’ve never heard him stumble so much on a
simple sentence. Did I surprise him just now? “Spit it out,” I say,
smiling in the dark at his rare display of awkwardness.

“He’s awake,” Remy says, and he doesn’t have
to explain who the
he
is. The guard. The injured guard.

But there was so much blood.

“He won’t last long,” Remy says and I push
out a heavy breath. He’s dying.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” I say.

“Later,” Remy says. “You have to hurry.
Father says you should be there for the questioning. You’re the
closest thing to a witness we have.”

The weariness falls away from me like a snake
shedding its skin. I’m on my feet in an instant, hurriedly pushing
out of the tent and following Remy. Light, misting rain leaves
glistening drops on my skin, attaching to the fine hairs on my
arms. The night is ink-black, save for the burning glow of the Big
Fire, raging strong enough to withstand the sprinkle from the
clouds above.

We reach the string of healing tents and Remy
leads me inside one. A man cries out in agony. Gard kneels beside
him, filling a corner of the tent. A Healer mops the man’s brow
with a wet cloth.

A woman cries softly into her hands. The
guard’s wife. Remy’s mother comforts her with a gentle hand on her
back, an occasional whisper in her ear.

I know her loss, and no amount of words can
comfort her now.

You sssee what I have done?
the voice
says in my head.

You’re not real
, I think, only
realizing I’ve spoken it out loud when Gard looks up at me in
confusion.

“What was that, Sadie?” he asks.

“Nu-nothing,” I stutter. “You asked for
me?”

A question clouds his wrinkled brow for a
moment, but then his face relaxes. “I fear you’ve wasted your
precious hours of sleep. Mother Earth is taking him in the most
painful manner. We’ve barely drawn a word or two out of him, and
nothing meaningful.”

Across from Gard, the woman sobs.

“Let me speak to him,” I say, fear squeezing
my heart as I wonder: What did this man see? Will he tell us a tale
of a clawed forest-dwelling monster? Attacking and ripping and
tearing.

I am Evil
, the voice says.

I shake my head as Gard moves aside so I can
get closer.

The man’s face is wracked with pain, his eyes
closed, his lips clamped tight until he lets out a tortured moan
that pushes a shudder down my spine.

“His name,” I say.

“Nole,” Gard says.

“Nole,” I say, trying to keep the uncertainty
out of my voice. What can I say that Gard hasn’t already? How can I
convince Mother Earth to let this man speak one last time? “My
mother and father have both been taken. Soon you will go to join
them.”

Nole stiffens for a second, but then relaxes.
Sweat trickles down his cheek. Or is it a tear? Thick white
bandages are wrapped around his naked stomach. The Healer has done
all she can do. It’s in Mother Earth’s hands now.

A flash of pain crosses Nole’s face and his
eyes spring open, but this time he doesn’t cry out. “Nole, tell us
what happened. You could save many lives,” I say.

His eyes meet mine for the first time, like
he’s only just realized I’m here, that I’m the one speaking. A wail
slips from his wife’s lips, but I raise a hand in her direction and
she manages to stifle it. How am I so calm when this man is dying?
The answer is black and obvious: Because I have to know what did
this.