Ice Crypt (Mermaids of Eriana Kwai Book 2) Page 22

  “That’s great,” I said. “I mean, if you’re all right with … a bit of your blood …”

  “Don’t be dumb,” said Annith. “Of course.”

  “I asked, too,” said Blacktail. “No go. Somewhere along, my family came from Alaska.”

  “At least we’ve got Annith,” I said. “I still haven’t found out about mine.”

  Annith was staring at Tanuu, who stood apart from us, arms crossed, face uncharacteristically sullen.

  “The Ravendust bushes definitely go into the woods over there,” said Blacktail, motioning to the left.

  She trekked onwards without waiting for a response. We followed, stepping high through the grass. Annith caught up with Blacktail, presumably to ask in undertones what was going on.

  Tanuu continued brooding, misery seeping from him like a toxic gas. Trailing behind, I felt guiltier with each passing second.

  Once in the woods, we stopped at each Ravendust bush and turned on the spot to locate the next. It was hard to tell whether we were following a path or jumping from plant to plant like a weird egg hunt.

  The silence deepened as we zigzagged through the woods, sometimes looping in a circle, other times guessing the direction of the next plant and then happening across one a few minutes later. We passed by my house, and then the training base, and then pushed so deeply into the woods that it became hard to move without needing to clamber over huge logs and rocks. We paused here and there to snack on huckleberries, but by the afternoon we were starving and tired and out of water. We stumbled more frequently as it became exhausting to lift our feet. My coat had snagged on so many branches that I was sure I’d ripped it beyond repair.

  Blacktail cursed as a low-hanging branch jabbed her in the eye.

  “Maybe we should split up to cover more ground,” she mumbled.

  “Split up how?” said Tanuu. “There’s one path. It’s not like it forks.”

  Blacktail smacked the next branch out of the way with extra force. “I mean the next time we don’t know which direction to take.”

  “Speaking of directions,” said Annith. “Where are we?”

  Nobody answered.

  I hadn’t spoken in so long that it took me a moment to find my voice.

  “I’m sure we’ll see a landmark soon,” I said into the waspish silence.

  I quickened my pace, putting distance between us as though to buffer their moodiness.

  Eventually, we broke into a meadow. The land dropped off at the opposite end, apparently a steep bank or cliff. I hoped it would give me some indication of where we’d ended up.

  A lone Ravendust bush peeked out of the centre, surrounded by grass and weeds.

  I hadn’t made it five steps into the meadow when a crack rang through the air and Annith let out a piercing scream.

  I whirled around to see her frizzy hair disappear into the ground.

  I lunged for her. “Annith!”

  A splash, a moment where she stopped screaming, and then she surfaced, gasping and choking.

  She’d landed in a pit, like a grave dug large enough to hold a grizzly. Around her, what must have been a cover of thatched branches had crumbled in with her. A layer of muddy, thigh-deep water roiled under Annith’s flailing limbs.

  For a brief, absurd moment, I wondered if she’d landed in the fissure in the earth we’d been searching for. Then sense took over as Tanuu threw himself on his stomach and reached into the pit.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s an old trap. Are you all right?”

  Annith was making strange gasping sounds, like she wanted to keep screaming but was too busy coughing.

  “No,” she said. “The sticks.”

  Panic rose in my chest. “The what? Sticks? What did she say?”

  I dropped to my knees. Blacktail flung herself beside Tanuu and stretched out a hand, too.

  “Annith, grab on,” she said.

  Annith reached trembling arms up to Tanuu and Blacktail. She whimpered in pain as they lifted her from the water.

  I leaned down to grab her leg, and had to stifle a cry. Several of the thatched branches had sliced her open. Her jeans had torn, and one of the sticks still clung to her, penetrating through skin. Blood seeped through the wound.

  Tanuu swore. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders.

  We eased Annith onto the grass. She was breathing fast, panicking.

  I knelt beside her.

  “Annith, hold my hand. Try to slow your breathing.”

  She inhaled unsteadily a few times, gripping my hand like a vice.

  Blacktail used her dagger to slice away the material around the protruding branch. I watched her face for a reaction, not wanting to look at the wound.

  She stayed calm, thoughtful.

  “I’m going to remove it,” she said, and without waiting for anyone’s response, she pulled the stick swiftly from Annith’s leg.

  Annith cried out, the sound filling the empty meadow.

  “It’s not deep,” said Blacktail.

  She unscrewed the lid of her water bottle and spilled what was left over the wound.

  “See why we have hunting laws?” she said with a rare note of venom. “This trap is an illegal—”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” said Tanuu.

  Blacktail set her jaw, focusing on cleaning Annith’s wound.

  “Are you saying my father set this trap up?” said Tanuu.

  “Of course not,” said Blacktail. “But you were angry at my father for enforcing the law. Well, this is why.”

  Tanuu scoffed. “There’s a difference between setting up an illegal trap that can hurt someone, and accidentally trespassing while trying to stop your family from starving.”

  Blacktail glowered at the wound.

  “Does it need stitches?” I said.

  “She’s lucky,” said Blacktail shortly. “The wood was old and rotting. It broke before it penetrated too far.”

  “She should still get it checked out,” said Tanuu.

  I chanced a look at it. The wound looked messy to me, the skin mangled. Blood seeped out, thick and dark. My stomach churned. I lifted my eyes to Annith’s pale, damp face as Blacktail covered the wound.

  “Annith, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have …” I trailed off at the deadly expression on her face.

  “No,” she said. “It shouldn’t have. But that’s what happens when you keep wandering around places you’re not supposed to with no real plan.”

  She wrapped Tanuu’s jacket tighter to try and stop herself shivering.

  “Searching these places is the best plan I have,” I said, keeping my voice calm.

  Annith turned her stony face away to watch Tanuu, who’d returned to the last Ravendust bush—a meagre, knee-high sapling.

  No one said anything for what felt like a very long time. A thrush whistled tirelessly overhead, finding no response. I removed my backpack and handed Annith my sweater as an extra layer.

  “Let’s get you home. We can try again tomorrow,” I said weakly.

  Annith and Blacktail raised their eyebrows at me. With the Massacre departing tomorrow, time was running out.

  I was considering whether I should come back and continue searching by myself that night when Tanuu gave an exasperated sigh.

  “This is pointless. Are we seriously following clumps of bushes and hoping they lead us somewhere useful?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” I said.

  He kicked the sapling at his knee. “Ravendust bushes don’t grow out of leviathan venom! They grow out of dirt and water and sunlight, like a normal - freaking - ordinary - plant!”

  He attacked the bush, grabbing it and fighting to pull it from the ground. When it didn’t budge, he kicked it a few more times.

  “If you don’t want to be here, no one’s keeping you,” I said, clenching my fists.

  “We just keep running into dead ends,” said Annith, with hardly more patience than Tanuu. “No one believes us, n
o one is helping us, nobody even wants us to succeed. The Massacre is going to happen tomorrow and we’re no closer to finding this crypt. Why are we bothering?”

  “Because the Massacres don’t work, and we’re the only ones who seem to see that!”

  “Don’t they work?” said Annith. “We killed more sea demons than ever on ours. Women have a lot more success out there—and that was only the first go at it. Imagine what the next batch will be able to do.”

  I blinked. Was she serious?

  “Annith, the number of kills we made doesn’t mean anything. Not when the Massacres still result in that many deaths.”

  “Maybe soon it won’t involve so many deaths. With a new training master, there could still be hope.”

  I looked from her to Tanuu, to Blacktail. Even Blacktail looked mutinous.

  “You’re telling me you’re okay with sending girls like us to battle every year?” I said.

  “Why do you feel so responsible for those girls?” said Tanuu. “They’re not little kids. You’re only a few months older than some of the ones going out tomorrow.”

  “I’m one Massacre older,” I said. “That’s the difference. So yes, I am completely responsible for them. Just as much as you two are.”

  I looked between Annith and Blacktail.

  “Sometimes sacrifices need to be made,” said Annith. “That’s the nature of war.”

  “This isn’t about sacrifices. It’s about making peace.”

  “What if the Massacres were a clean victory?” said Tanuu. “What if Mujihi can train those girls—”

  “Human deaths aren’t the only tragic ones!”

  The words burst from my mouth so loudly, the wilderness around us seemed to still. The thrush stopped singing.

  I regretted my words instantly. Did their expressions darken when they looked at me? Were they wondering if I’d lied about my motivations?

  I hadn’t lied. I simply didn’t tell them the entire truth.

  I turned away from their stares and stomped onwards, not sure where I was going.

  Annith’s low voice carried across the empty meadow. “Why do you care about that mermaid so much?”

  I stopped, stiffening. I took a second to compose myself before rounding on her, chest heaving. “Don’t – you – dare –”

  Annith waved a hand towards Tanuu and Blacktail. “Don’t act all scandalized. They were going to find out anyway.”

  I stepped towards her. “Wouldn’t you try to save me, Annith? If I was on the enemy’s side, would you shoot me because it’s the nature of war? Would you shoot Rik?”

  “Of course not. But that’s … that’s different.”

  I felt my lip curl into a snarl. When I spoke, my voice quivered. “You don’t understand in the slightest.”

  Annith’s eyes narrowed. I felt Tanuu and Blacktail’s stares. Tanuu’s brow was pinched—but Blacktail’s mouth formed a silent, “Oh.”

  She had seen Lysi aboard the Bloodhound last month.

  Something like panic seized my chest. My throat tightened until I felt like air couldn’t pass through. Why did I have to mention Rik? Did I just blurt my feelings for Lysi to all three of them?

  The thrush picked up his song again, mockingly cheerful.

  I turned away so the others wouldn’t see my eyes spring with tears, and continued through the grass.

  “Take Annith home,” I said. “Get her dry.”

  I crossed the field. The opposite end turned out to be a steep hill that descended into town. Closest to us was the back of the grocery store, which faced a paved lot. The other businesses there had closed indefinitely. I saw Blue Kestrel Bistro, the post office, bank, gift shop, bakery, and Windy Spit Pub. Even the gas station had closed after running dry. We had nothing left. Would the grocery store last? Could my people survive on the land alone, with no fish and so much of the wild game hunted out?

  Footsteps swished in an awkward rhythm through the grass behind me. I turned to see Tanuu and Blacktail holding Annith between them.

  “Take her down there and use a phone,” I said, and then added stubbornly, “I’m going to keep looking.”

  They didn’t argue. I turned away as they began a slow, laboured descent.

  I trudged around the meadow, trying to find more Ravendust bushes, perhaps leading away from the town. When none crossed my path, I stopped, winding my fingers through my hair in frustration.

  The bushes must have continued right through where the town now sat. I considered going around and picking up my search on the other side of the lot, but even the thought was exhausting. What if the bushes had been dug up in so many places that the path was no longer distinguishable?

  A nagging voice in my head suggested there was no path to begin with, and Tanuu was right. The only remarkable thing about these plants was their ability to blacken your skin and clothes if you brushed against the leaves.

  Daring to check over the hill, I confirmed that the others had gone.

  I didn’t need them. If they thought this wasn’t important, then they were holding me back.

  The thrush sang relentlessly, calling for a friend that wasn’t there. I whistled back. The bird hesitated, probably wondering whether he wanted to sing to a mate who was so off-key. After a pause, he replied.

  “Just you and me,” I said.

  Eriana came to mind, and how she’d died after a lifetime protecting the flora and fauna of this island. I wouldn’t let her down.

  I returned to the pit trap. Maybe I wasn’t justified in thinking whoever dug the pit deserved a kick in the head. They’d been trying to get food. They wouldn’t know a few unsuspecting teenagers would stumble on it—or in it.

  Still, it angered me that they’d left it abandoned. What if we’d been kids playing in the woods? We were lucky we’d been able to pull Annith out right away.

  I squatted next to it. The muddy water left me unable to see the bottom, but based on how Annith had landed, the pit was deep. This hunter had been after a deer, perhaps a bear. The thatched branches on top must have been disturbed enough that animals knew this patch of land was suspicious. Annith probably hadn’t been watching her step when she’d fallen in.

  Not for the first time, I decided animals were a lot smarter than people.

  Broken branches and moss hung from the sides, half submerged. Behind them, rocks peeked through.

  Frowning, I moved a few branches out of the way. The pit was lined with stones, stacked uniformly all the way around, creating a rectangular hole in the ground. This trap wasn’t some random crater a desperate hunter made. Someone had put a lot of time and effort into it—and from the weathered appearance of the stones, with roots and weeds pushing through the cracks, they’d done so a long time ago.

  An irregular stone caught my eye. I sat on the edge of the pit and leaned down, squinting at it. The stone had an engraving. A fanged animal head, jaws parted, with a long, narrow eye.

  I yanked the bone dagger from my jeans.

  There it was. The same head had been etched into the dagger we’d found beneath the Enticer. What did it mean? What was their connection?

  I flipped it over to examine the other engravings. Once again, I felt that strange sense of familiarity. I rubbed my fingers over the trees on either side of the hole.

  A long moment passed before I lifted my eyes, not feeling any surge of enlightenment. The world had darkened a little. The sun was setting.

  For good measure, I stretched my leg into the pit and kicked at the stone with the engraving. It didn’t move. Neither did the ones surrounding it. I leaned in to test all the stones I could reach. They were all wedged securely in the earth, roots and weeds sprouting between them.

  “Not hiding any secrets?”

  The thrush whistled.

  I considered jumping down to poke around inside, but the idea was unappealing. Fat raindrops created rings in the water, now littered with decaying plant life. A cool breeze had picked up. Besides, the stone walls were built so preci
sely that I’d never be able to climb them to get back out. I’d need a rope.

  Legs still dangling into the pit, I looked over my shoulder, grasping for ideas. Maybe we hadn’t exhausted the trail of Ravendust bushes. Did the path fork somewhere? I could backtrack to the last few bushes and make a wide circle around each one. Maybe I’d find a whole new path to follow.

  My feet and legs were throbbing from walking all day. I turned back to the pit, glancing between the stone and the dagger in my hand. This serpent head had to mean something.

  Struck with inspiration, I stood.

  Adette had mentioned a snake on Dani’s wrist. What if it was the same one? Would Dani have explained the meaning of the symbol to any of the trainees?

  It was a start, and a fresh one after spending all day going in circles.

  We’d trekked a good deal across the island, so it took more than an hour to get back to the road—plenty of time to brood over being abandoned by my friends. I was stupid to let even a tiny part of me hope Tanuu and Blacktail would come back.

  So much for Tanuu’s undying support for the mission.

  I reminded myself that I had just dumped him, and he’d had a crush on me since we were in kindergarten. He had every right to be miserable.

  Maybe this was my fault for choosing today to dump him. But what was I supposed to do? Fake it until we were done with all of this and I didn’t need his help anymore? No, I’d done the right thing. Every day I let him think we were fine, I was lying to him.

  So if I’d done the right thing, why did I feel so guilty?

  Relationships suck, I thought.

  When I finally made it to Anyo’s, I pounded on the door a little too vigorously.

  Nobody answered, but a light shone through the window. I pounded again.

  “Adette,” I shouted. “I need to talk to you.”

  A long minute later, the door opened. Adette still wore her training clothes. Her eyelids looked heavy, her face clammy and pale.

  “I’m sorry, I just have a question,” I said.

  She waited for me to continue with one hand on the door, not inviting me inside.

  “Everything all right?” I said.