Fear the Drowning Deep(76)

I ran faster than I ever had down the familiar path to the harbor.

Nightfall was almost upon us, and there was no telling how long we had until the wicked creature was hungry again.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE



Every boat harbored in Port Coire shuddered, rocking in the high wind. All but one. The creak of ropes straining and the slap of water against wood mixed with the hammering of rain. Everything reeked of fish. As I approached the small craft tied near Da’s vacant spot, the source of the stench became apparent. Someone had left a bucket of crabs in their boat. A few shifted restlessly on top of the pile, snapping at one another.

Two battered paddles lay on the dock near the crabber’s boat. I grabbed them and leaped from the dock to the vessel, careful to keep low as the little craft rolled with the waves. I couldn’t imagine who would miss such a battered thing, should the serpent destroy it. Perhaps the owner would thank me for the excuse to purchase a better one.

I set the poison jar and the lantern by my feet in at least an inch of collected rainwater.

Panic tightened my throat. If the storm worsened and the boat sank, I was doomed. I still couldn’t swim. But I had to search for Liss and bring Da home. The rain was simply one more reason to hurry.

Not stopping even to empty the bucket of crabs, which would cost precious seconds, I sat on the wooden plank stretched across the center and dipped the paddles in the choppy water. I’d seen Da steer his boat often enough to have a basic idea of the motions. Within minutes my arms burned, but I was making slow progress out of the harbor.

I guided the boat north toward the sea caves, hugging the shore as much as possible. The shelter of the cliffs provided some relief from the raging wind, and though waves still broke against the prow of my tiny vessel, they were smaller than the ones on the open sea.

The rain had soaked through my innermost layer of clothes some time ago, but that didn’t make sitting in a squelchy puddle any more comfortable. I shivered, blinking raindrops from my lashes and wishing for a lull in the roar of thunder and wind. If the serpent sneaked up behind the boat, I would only know by its breath on my neck.

I refocused on paddling. Massive, dark towers of rock jutted up before my boat, shrouded in mist and stretching toward the cold sky. They signaled the start of the network of caves where Grandad used to look for periwinkles, the sea snails he liked to boil for soup.

“Liss!” I shouted. My only answer was the keening wind blowing through holes in the rocks.

Tendrils of mist coiled around my arms and legs, making it difficult to steer. Manannán’s Cloak had been Grandad’s name for this unnaturally dense fog. I fought the urge to turn the boat around. If Manannán Mac Lir, Son of the Sea, was raising his cloak of mist around the Isle he had once ruled, then I was in more danger than I could imagine.

A horrible screeching assaulted my ears as the boat came too close to a narrow column of rock. I paddled furiously, but something prevented me from moving. The serpent?

A dark shape hovered just beneath the boat. I used one of my paddles to jab at it, but was met with strong resistance. Whatever I’d stabbed seemed much harder than a serpent’s body.

With a trembling hand, I reached down to touch the dark shape. Coarse rock scratched my shaking hand. I withdrew it, angry with myself for losing my nerve so quickly. There was no room for fear while Liss’s life depended on me.

The thin column of rock was much wider at its base. I tried paddling, but the boat made another screeching sound as it rubbed against the rock.

I rose carefully to my feet and stashed the paddles by the poison jar. Thrusting my hands into the water, I attempted to push the boat free. “Come on!” I shoved the wide rock a second time, then a third, sharp bits of sediment opening tiny cuts on my palms. Finally, the boat shifted, and I freed it with a final push.

My hands stung as I wrapped them around the paddles and moved forward once more.

“Liss! Can you hear me?”

Through breaks in the mist, I stole glimpses into the pitch-black mouths of flooded caves, their beds of gravel and shell submerged by the swollen sea.

“Help!” A girl’s petrified scream shredded the air.

I glanced wildly around, holding the lantern aloft with one hand, but there was no one in sight. “Where are you?”

There was no answer.

Letting the boat drift, I scanned the cliffs. At first, there seemed to be no sign of a nearby cave, but then my gaze settled on a low rock overhang. I paddled toward it, fighting the fatigue in my arms with every stroke. The bandage on my injured forearm had begun to unravel, but there was nothing to be done for it now.

“Please don’t let me die,” someone sobbed as I drew closer.

“Liss?” I yelled, hardly daring to believe that the voice belonged to my sister.

“Bridey!” she shouted. “I’m in here! Oh, God, is it really you?”

I moored the boat on the heap of crushed shells that formed the sea cave’s floor. Even knowing Liss was nearby, I took great care to make sure the boat wouldn’t be swept away. Cold water sloshed around my ankles as I crouched and crawled through the entrance, guided by my lantern’s feeble light.

Running a hand along slick walls, I called out, “Where are you?” My voice echoed faintly. My lantern wasn’t strong enough to reach into the depths of the cave.

“I don’t know!” Liss sobbed. “It’s so dark! Hurry!”