Once More into the Sea
Rinka
Rinka awoke to the smell of fried fish and the sound of a crackling fire. Her body was stiff from a night spent on the sand, and her arms ached in places she’d never felt before, but she was alive.
And she wasn’t alone.
As she slowly pulled herself upright, she spotted Drystan. He was a few feet away, seated next to a fire he must have built at the edge of the cavern where smoke could escape.
“Good morning,” he called over to her. It must have been late in the morning because the sun was nearly overhead as she left the cave’s shelter to join him. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” she said.
Drystan held out the skewer he’d made—there were two large, flat fish on it, and they looked reasonably cooked.
“Flounder,” he said. “I haven’t been fishing since I was a boy, but they’re easy enough to catch.”
Rinka looked around for equipment—he must have had a hook, at least—before realizing what he had done. “The coin?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Can you make it into a knife?”
The fire sputtered and went out as Drystan shifted his focus to the coin, producing from it a dagger.
“A little longer and narrower,” said Rinka. She watched his face as he worked, but she could see little sign that he was performing magic. There were no magic words, no strange gestures. And yet he did as she asked, producing a much more appropriate knife for deboning.
Rinka made quick work of the fish. Although fish weren’t her usual trade, she’d seen the fishmongers at work in the market, and she found it simple enough.
She handed a filet back to Drystan as she ate her own in just a few bites.
He pulled a glob of water from the air and handed it to her, the knife turning back into a coin as he did so.
“Thank you,” she said.
He was looking at her strangely. Staring, almost the same way he’d stared at the coin as he worked his magic on it.
“Is it my hair?” she asked. “I bet it’s a terrible mess. The first thing I’m doing when I get to Alison’s cottage is having a bath. Which seems like an odd thing to want after spending far more time in the water than I’d expected, but the salt just clings to you—”
“No, Rinka. You look fine. Great, actually. The salt air suits you.”
He couldn’t quite meet her eyes on the last part, and that was just as well because she found she had to look down at the ground too.
“I—well, thank you,” she said.
“No, Rinka. Thank you. You saved my life.”
“I did my best,” she said. “You got us most of the way there.”
He shook his head. “We would have died. I was foolish. I overestimated my abilities, and it could have killed you. I hope you can forgive me.”
“I don’t think there’s anything to forgive. I can’t see another way for things to have gone—you weren’t the reason the pirates were there, and I couldn’t have let anything happen to the Halfling. In fact, if you hadn’t been there at all, things would have likely gone far worse for me. I probably would have confronted the elf unarmed.”
“You really would have, wouldn’t you?” He was giving her the look again.
“Is that strange?”
“No,” he said. “It’s extraordinary.”
Rinka didn’t see how that was different from strange, but he didn’t seem to be mocking her. She decided to change the subject. “Have you been awake long? Did you see if there’s a way out of the cave?”
“I did look before you woke up, but it’s no good. There’s a passage, but it’s collapsed. We’re going to have to go back out into the water and look for another way onto land.”
“Do you think there’s an inlet somewhere?” And then: “Oh, no!” she cried as she realized something unfortunate.
“What is it?” Drystan stood and rushed over to her.
“My maps! My bag with my maps. And my trunk. It’s all on the boat still.”
Drystan laughed. “You know, I thought the maps were funny when you first showed them to me, but they really would have come in handy right about now.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll bet the pirates left anything that wasn’t shiny on the ship. It’ll be waiting for us when we get to Sudport.”
“You really think so?”
“I do,” he said. “Come on.” He helped her to her feet. “I’ll make the boat. With any luck, we’ll be back to your maps and your trunk by nightfall.”
“Can I help you?” she asked.
Drystan tilted his head, amused. “You know, I don’t know if you could. I suppose it’s possible. My mother used to help me, but then this particular gift was hers as well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she…?”
“Oh, no, she’s alive and well. Just far away. As far away from my father as she could get.”
Rinka nodded. “My parents are the same. Well, the reverse, actually. My father was the one lucky enough to escape.”
“Would you like to try? To help me make the boat?”
“I would. What do I do? What do you do?”
Drystan held up his hands. For the first time, Rinka noticed that Drystan held his left arm a little funny, as if he couldn’t quite bend it the same as the right.
He made a gesture of pulling into him. As he did so, water droplets appeared in the space between his palms. “My mother described it as a pull. A request you put out into the world for it to change its shape. My father’s magic is different—harder, violent. I never quite grasped it. But my mother’s magic feels natural to me. It’s a negotiation. A dance, almost. A give and take. May I?”
He reached for her hands, and she gave them to him.
“Close your eyes and imagine the rain. Imagine asking the sky to give you the water. Don’t push it. Just ask, and see if it answers.”
At first, Rinka felt nothing but the tension in her wrists and the feel of his smooth skin, the light stroke of his fingertips on the back of her hands. She was close enough to him on their little patch of shore to hear his breath over the waves. Paradoxically, it was both calming and exciting at once. His breath and the waves fell into an almost meditative rhythm, but the feel of his presence so close to her was also invigorating. Exhilarating.
And then she felt it. Her mind turned to the rain, and she let a question enter her thoughts: may I have some water? There was nothing at first, just the gentle sounds of the waves and his breath, but then she felt a pulse flow between them.
It snapped and hummed with ‘lectricity. It flowed back and forth between their hands and through their bodies, and Rinka almost let it go out of fear, but she held on. She wanted to open her eyes to see his response, but she resisted the urge. What should she do with the power? Was he waiting for her to act? Should she take it from him and try to wield it?
No, that didn’t feel right. It was a dance, he’d said. She imagined his hand around her waist, imagined their feet in motion, moving together across the sand.
She did not move, but she felt the rhythm of the ‘lectric flow between them pulse and change. Heard the rhythm of his breath quicken.
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 pulse between 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?”
“Just…everything,” she said, setting down her watery oar and gesturing broadly. “My mother always said I was a fool for wanting to leave Arcas Dyrne, for having my head stuck in the clouds and at the picture show, and she was right. She was actually right.”
She laughed again, and this time, another laugh joined her.
But it wasn’t Drystan’s.
“What was that?” he asked.
More giggling. High-pitched, girly giggling, to be precise. And a lot of it. At least two girls’ worth of giggles.
“Where is that coming from?” asked Rinka.
She looked around, but there was no one in sight. She heard a small splash and turned towards the sound, but all she could see were a few bubbles on the surface.
“Is someone there?” asked Drystan.
A splash again, and more giggles.
Rinka reached for the oar on the bottom of the boat, and then she screamed.
There was a face there. It was distorted by the boat’s watery bottom, but it was a young woman’s face.
“Under the boat! They’re under the boat!”
The face burst into a huge smile and another fit of giggles that left bubbles attached to the bottom of the boat.
It vanished into the dark water below, and then a second later, another face appeared above the waves right beside Rinka.
Floating right at the surface, it was apparent what the giggling girls were.
Mermaids.