Nightfall (17 page)

“Go—go—go!” Kana yelled. He bolted out of the tunnel and crawled to Line and Marin, who were perched at the edge of the cave entrance and looking down.

“Is it behind you?” gasped Marin.

“I don't think so,” he said, looking back into the darkened cave. “It's probably too big to fit, but I can't be sure.”

“Let's not find out,” said Line. “Kana—can you see a way down the cliff wall?”

Kana inched his way to the edge and looked down a steep cliff that dropped nearly a hundred feet down to a rocky beach below. The rain had stopped and the sky was lighter than before. The moon peeked through the clouds. He glanced out toward the horizon. The sea had withdrawn a long ways and in its wake was a vast expanse of rocks, strewn with kelp and seaweed. It was a spectacular, otherworldly landscape. There were great rock formations, canyons, clusters of coral, and the carcasses of thousands of fish.

The most pressing matter was getting down the cliff. He examined the edge and saw a chicken head—a bulbous knob
of rock sticking out of the cliff face. Lithe as a cat, Kana swung his legs over, grabbed the chicken head, and disappeared over the edge. He hung there for a few seconds as he looked for his next move. Despite the direness of their circumstances, he was pleased by how easily he could maneuver along the wall. He had never climbed as well as Marin, but now he felt supremely confident.

Just to his right, about five feet away, was a dark seam in the rock that ran straight down to the shoreline. It was a natural feature sometimes found in the cliffs, and for those with climbing experience, it made an ascent or descent doable—even easy. This particular seam gradually widened into a chimney—a crack wide enough to fit an entire body. Descending this particular chimney would be easy for Marin, even in the dark. Line would have a harder time because of his ankle, but the brace would help. On an island like theirs, with its perimeter of high cliffs, most people could free-climb all but the steepest of headwalls. The only complication now was that it had been raining and the rock face was wet.

“There's a way down!” yelled Kana as he continued his descent. “Just over the precipice, there's a nice chicken head—hang from it and then crab-walk to the seam on your right. Farther down, it'll open into a chimney. Take it slow—the rock is wet and icy in a few places.” They heard Kana continue down the wall.

Line nodded at Marin to go next.

“No, you go ahead,” said Marin, pushing him gently toward the precipice. “You have to be careful of your ankle—and your arm.”

“Go on,” he said. “Please. If I'm in front, I'll slow you down.” There was a solid resoluteness in his voice. “There's nothing coming . . . If it was, it'd be here by now.”

Marin hesitated, then walked up to him and hugged him close. “Be careful,” she whispered. Then she walked to the edge of the cliff and slipped over with practiced ease.

Line glanced back at the empty mouth of the cave. He wanted to follow Marin immediately, but knew he had to wait. He was injured. He wasn't entirely certain how well he could climb; if he fell or slipped, he didn't want to be right on top of her. Line counted out a full minute to give himself maneuvering room. By the time he'd counted to thirty, he was sorely tempted to fling himself over the edge. He kept glancing back, dreading what he might see or hear, but the cave behind him remained silent.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.

Just as Line began descending, Kana's feet touched the rocky shore at the base of the cliff. Kana had gone incredibly fast, much faster than was prudent. His arms and fingers burned with exertion. He moved several feet away and watched Marin and Line pick their way down the cliff. Marin would be down in no time. Line was slower and the jerky way in which he moved made Kana anxious.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, Line.”

Then suddenly, way above—at the top of the cliff—a flicker of a shadow caught Kana's attention.
Did I really see it?
Is my mind playing tricks on me?
No. There it was again. Something was moving across the cliff, toward Line, and quickly.

Kana screamed at the top of his voice, “LINE! LINE! ABOVE YOU!”

Startled, Line bobbled his grip on the cliff and hugged it even tighter. At first, he couldn't understand why Kana was screaming. But then he caught a glimpse of it. Something was moving down the cliff. He was at the top of the seam, before it opened up into the chimney. He froze against the wall. He needed to find a better defensive position, but where? The chimney, of course. However, the seam that he was climbing angled downward and did not open into the chimney for another eight feet. The noise from overhead was getting louder. He didn't have time to inch his way along.

Instincts kicked in.
I have to move. Now.
Line leapt, free-falling for a fraction of a second, and then—using all the strength in his good arm—he caught a rock outcropping. Seconds later, he'd pulled himself flush against the chimney.

His heart was pounding, all his senses were activated, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, he felt totally and utterly alive. Other thoughts and fears vanished. Francis, the mayor, the boats, the sunstone, the fishing depot—all of it was replaced by complete presence in the moment. The thing was coming fast.

It was almost there.

Line reached behind him to grab the vegetable sack tied to his back. He withdrew his long knife and felt its weight in his hand. His breathing slowed and he felt distant from himself, as if he were a mere observer.
Wait for it,
Line told himself.
Patience is the key. Wait for it.

As it drew closer, Line went completely still. A clawed foot appeared on a rock a yard or so above his head. Line fought the urge to slash at it.
Wait for it. Wait for it.
Soon, he was rewarded
by the appearance of two legs edging their way into the chimney. They were a foot or two away.

Now.
Line hurled himself up and thrust the blade deep into the creature's thigh.

The creature screamed and tried to pull away, but Line was quicker. Still gripping the handle of the knife, he yanked it downward so that the blade ripped through leg muscle and ligaments. Hot blood sprayed Line, but he held on and plunged the knife deeper into the creature's leg.

Its scream turned high-pitched. The creature pulled itself up and away from the chimney. Line lost his grip on the knife and it fell away. He clung to the chimney, aware that his arms and legs were trembling uncontrollably.
Easy,
he told himself. Line forced himself to peel individual fingers away from the rock. They throbbed. He dimly heard Marin and Kana shouting. All of this happened in a feverish blur. Line descended as quickly as he dared, aware of a terrible thirst gathering in the bottom of his throat. Then, suddenly, he was off the cliff. Exhaustion enveloped him, and he crumpled to the ground.

Marin knelt at his feet, concern etched across her face. “Line?”

“Did I kill it?” he asked.

“Kill it?” said Marin. “I don't know.”

“Then I probably didn't,” said Line. “Or it would have fallen.”

Line glanced down at his hands, which were covered in blood. Again. He knelt over a nearby pool of stranded seawater and rubbed the blood off his hands, all too aware that he had done the same thing in the hermit's house. The water was bracingly cold. Once his hands were clean, he splashed
water on his face. For a moment, he began to replay what just happened in his mind, but then he shook his head and forced himself to stop.
Not useful.

He looked up at the cliff, then at Kana. “Are there more?”

Before responding, Kana stood for a full minute, studying the cliff face. “I don't see anything,” he said at last.

Line nodded in relief. “Did you see what happened to my knife?”

“No,” Kana replied, shaking his head. “I didn't see it drop—I was looking at you.” He glanced at Marin. “Did you see it?”

Marin sighed. “No,” she said. “Here, take mine.”

Line examined the blade. “Keep it,” he said finally. “My arm hurts too much for me to use it well.” It was hard for him to admit this, but it was a fact.
Only facts will help you escape—not hopes, fears, or wishes.

Kana turned away from the conversation; something on the exposed seabed drew his attention. He walked forward several paces across the slippery, seaweed-covered rocks, then stopped.

“What is it?” Marin called.

“A statue of a woman. And there's another one just like it farther out.”

Marin looked at Line. “Palan's statue. The hag.”

“Does it have writing on it?” she called out.

“Yes,” Kana called back. He had to shout louder to be heard. “It looks like more rules.”

Kana, Line, and Marin walked across the old seabed until they arrived at the statue of the hag. The statue itself was nearly eight feet tall, and it stood atop a ten-foot pedestal. It was an old woman, with long hair and a hollowed-out face. Two similar statues stood a few hundred yards away in either direction. All three statues had their backs to the island.

Kana walked right up to the pedestal to examine the algaeen crusted writing on the hag's long shield. He read it out loud:

THE HOUSES MUST BE WITHOUT STAIN.

LEAVE THEM AS THEY WERE.

COVER YOUR SCENT.

FLEE THE NIGHT OR WE WILL COME FOR YOU.

Kana looked back at Marin and Line. “Warnings,” he said. “Probably for anyone who comes to the island riding the Morning Tide.”

“Leave them as they were,”
repeated Marin. “I guess that
accounts for all the crazy rituals—closing this door, not closing that door,
SNOUT
here,
TEETH
there . . .”

“The last line is clear enough,” said Line. “And we're breaking that rule right now.”

All three stood there, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the stone hag and the words carved on her shield. Line thought about the last sentence:
Flee the Night or we will come for you.
His mind felt feverish.
We will come for you.
Was this a useful fact, or was it something he should ignore? He felt troubled, and the trembling in his stomach spread to his arms and fingers.

“We should go,” said Line. “It's a long way to the mouth of the Coil, and I'm guessing those things will keep hunting us.”

They walked on, heading southeast along the coast, toward Shiprock Point. The only sound was the scraping of their boots against the mud and sand of the seabed. Kana led, and was so agile that he forgot to slow down for Marin and Line. At one point, Line slipped and then fell on a seaweed-covered rock. Marin grabbed his arm to help pull him up. Just then, Kana called out. His voice sounded distant. They couldn't see him, but he reappeared only a minute later.

“You won't believe this,” he began, but stopped when he saw the drawn faces in front of him. “What happened?”

“We're fine,” said Marin. She dug her hands into her oilskin. It seemed to be getting colder by the hour. “What did you see?”

“The tide rolling back uncovered something incredible. Come—I'll show you.” Kana looked excited in a childlike way. His reaction made Marin even more curious.

Kana led them for another twenty minutes, until they
arrived at a rock outcropping that offered a better view. In the distance—perhaps two or three miles away—two stone towers rose from the sea floor. Halfway up, the towers were connected by a bridge. At the base of the towers was a stone structure that looked like a sturdy fortress. The towers were slender and round, but their tops were the most intriguing feature of all. Instead of ending in a spike or turret, as castle towers often did in storybooks, each tower ended in a garden, complete with rocks, trees, and grass. Because the seabed descended quickly as it fell away from the island, at this distance, the tops of the towers were actually at eye level.

Line rubbed his face with his hands, partly to wipe away the strain of walking fast, partly because he couldn't believe what he saw. He grabbed onto Kana's shoulder. “I never would have guessed—
never
.”

Kana nodded in agreement.

“This is crazy,” said Line. “But I think . . .” He shook his head. “No—can't be.”

“What?”

Line stared some more. He looked at the towers, then back to the island, as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Are those the Dwarf Oak Islands? The tops of the towers, I mean. I think I
recognize
those trees. I've sailed around them before.”

“The Dwarf Oak Islands,” said Marin slowly, as recognition dawned on her. “That's where the mayor said the citadel was supposed to be. In a way, he was right. The citadel is
underneath
the islands.”

Line looked at the towers with a frown. “You think
our
people built that?”

Marin studied the towers again, taking in their sheer size. “No way,” she said. “How could they? Those towers are huge—it must have taken years to build them. And they'd be underwater during Day. The creatures must have built them. It's the only explanation.”

“Then maybe we shouldn't be going toward it,” said Line. “
They
don't seem to like us in their buildings.”

“But we have to go in that direction,” said Kana. He pointed to the forested shoreline beyond the towers. “It's the only way to get around Shiprock Point and make it to the mouth of the Coil.”

“I guess . . . ,” said Line, but he didn't sound convinced.

Suddenly, Kana spun around and looked behind them—back toward the cliffs.

“What?”
Line asked, turning around and seeing nothing but seabed.

Kana paused and stood absolutely still. His posture reminded Marin of a feral cat hunting birds. When he finally relaxed, he shook his head. “Nothing—just keeping an eye out.”

It didn't matter what he said. The mere fact of him turning and looking back was enough to rekindle the panic they'd felt climbing down the cliff. Kana took off at a brisk pace, while Marin and Line struggled to keep up with him. An hour passed, and Line began to slow. He and Marin paused while Kana scouted ahead.

“I wish Kana hadn't run off,” Marin said, pushing the hair out of her eyes and gazing into the distance. “I don't care what he's doing. We should be sticking together.”

“Funny—isn't that what Kana said when you wanted to go to
the vegetable stand on your own?” observed Line with a smile.

Marin stood several inches deep in a swirl of rocks, mud, and seaweed. “I guess.” She lifted her head to look up at Line. “Do you think he's all right? I haven't seen him
eat
in . . . well . . . a long time.”

Line stepped toward Marin and drew her close. Her cheek pressed against the softness between his collarbone and neck. “He's fine,” Line said. “He's in better shape than either of us. Did you see him when we were trying to hold that door shut, back at the mayor's house? It started to swing open and he pushed it back. Practically by himself.”

“I hope you're right,” said Marin. She didn't sound convinced.

They continued to pick their way across a treacherous assortment of slippery, seaweed-covered rocks. In the distance, thunder rumbled every few minutes. It was odd to walk here. It smelled and felt like the sea, but—other than a few pools of stagnant water where starfish lingered—there was no seawater to be found. An hour passed, then another, and Kana still did not return.

At one point, Marin noticed that Line had started cradling his injured arm. He noticed her glance and rolled his eyes. “I'm fine,” he said. “Stop worrying.”

“But what about your arm?”

Line moved it gingerly. “Better, I think. Or, at the very least, not worse.”

She looked at him, trying to decide whether to believe what he said. “Good,” she said at last. “Still, we should get more lekar when we catch up with Kana.” She looked around, half expecting to see Kana right next to them.

“He's just scouting ahead,” said Line. “He'll circle back. This is what he does—just like when we hunted for mushrooms.” Then he chuckled darkly. “And if he's gone—well, can you really blame him for leaving us?”

“Not funny,” said Marin.

“Sorry,” said Line. “I'm just saying, he'd be on the boats right now if you hadn't tried to rescue me.”

“You're right,” said Marin dryly. “We should have left you.”

They continued through puddles of vanished ocean. Soon they could smell brine. They were close to the retreating shoreline.

“Sometimes I think you've been too good to me,” said Line. He sounded distant, contemplative. He was looking away, as if he were talking to himself.

“Please don't say that,” she said, grabbing his hand.

“Why
shouldn't
I say that?” asked Line.

She quickened her pace, putting several feet between them. “Just don't.”

Line sped up, stepping quickly over the slippery rocks, trying to catch her. “All I had to do was get on the boat with my brother,” he continued. “That was it. And I messed it up. And if you hadn't come back for me . . .”

“Don't,” said Marin, looking down at her feet. She didn't dare make eye contact with him. “Maybe . . . maybe I'm not as good a person as you think.” As she said this, she slipped her hand into her coat pocket and clasped the necklace with her cold, numb fingers.

Line raised his hands, palms toward the sky. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it's just that . . . ,” she started, and then stopped, as if simply grasping for the right words.

Line took a step toward her. “I don't understand.”

“Lower your expectations,” she said finally. “That's all.”