Ice Crypt (Mermaids of Eriana Kwai Book 2) Read online

  She huffed, face blotchy.

  I glanced to my father, who stared out the window. The clouds had mercifully stopped downpouring.

  “Even if this Host is real,” said my father slowly, “are you convinced that freeing it is a good idea?”

  “This legend is a part of us, Papa. I know I’m supposed to find it. This is the way to free our people.”

  He stared at me for a long time. My mother said nothing, working her jaw like she was grinding her teeth. Did they believe me? Or was that an accusation of insanity in their eyes?

  “We should go,” said my father. “The ceremony is in half an hour.”

  They stood, leaving me alone on the couch while they got dressed.

  I tried to understand what my parents were thinking. Had my father supported me this whole time, or was he trying to make me feel better now that I’d failed? My mother seemed opposed out of worry, more than anything. She didn’t want me getting in trouble from Mujihi.

  I’d come so close. I had every piece of a puzzle except for one—and that was the big hole in the middle of the bone dagger.

  We left the house in silence, stepping into air that felt much too cool for June. The dark clouds pressed down on us, threatening to open up again.

  On our way down the dirt road, we were caught up by Annith, Tanuu, and Blacktail.

  I studied Annith for signs of pain.

  “You’re all right?”

  “Just fine,” she said brightly, though I noticed a limp in her step.

  All of them watched me. I became self-conscious of the puffiness in my face from lack of sleep.

  “Can we talk?” said Annith.

  I glanced to my parents, who looked away guiltily and continued on ahead of us. The four of us fell behind.

  “We feel bad,” said Annith. “We talked about it, and we want to keep helping.”

  “Out of pity?”

  “No. Because you’re our friend.”

  I shook my head. “I never wanted you to help because you felt obligated. I wanted you to believe in the plan.”

  “I can’t speak for you guys, but I believe in the plan,” said Blacktail.

  “Me too,” said Tanuu.

  “So do I,” said Annith.

  I looked between their apologetic faces, somewhat exasperated.

  “That’s nice and all, but in case you haven’t noticed where we’re going, we’re too late. The Massacre is departing, same as always.”

  “We’ve still got half an hour,” said Tanuu. “And we know Annith’s a descendant.”

  “Who, limpy over here?” I said. “I don’t think draining more of her blood would be a wise move after yesterday.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “I lost more blood than this on the Massacre, and I bounced back just fine.”

  I waved a hand. “Not that it matters, but I found out I’m a descendant.”

  “No way!” said Tanuu. “That’s awesome.”

  “You guys are missing the point,” I said. “We’re too late. The girls are leaving and we still don’t know where the Host is.”

  “Oh, I see what’s going on,” said Tanuu.

  He stopped walking, forcing me to turn to him.

  “What?”

  “You’ve given up,” he said.

  “I have not—that’s not—” I huffed.

  “Meela, we’re sorry,” he said. “We shouldn’t have left you.”

  “It’s fine. I’m not brooding. But the whole island is ready for those girls to get out there and slaughter demons. Nothing we do is going to stop it from happening. Maybe everyone’s right, and these girls will kill enough demons to …”

  My throat tightened. I kept walking. The three of them jogged to catch up.

  “Remember what you told me,” said Annith. “Adaro’s threat if we send another battleship. He’ll be pissed, right?”

  “He’s already pissed,” I said.

  “But think about what he’ll do. He’ll want to hurt you, Meela, in any way he can.”

  My heart skipped a beat. I knew it, but I couldn’t think about it.

  “Where do we start, Annith?” I said, voice breaking. “I’m out of ideas.”

  “Tanuu and I were brainstorming,” said Blacktail. “We wondered if the Ravendust bushes actually lead the other way.”

  “What, into the ocean?”

  “Yes. What if the leviathan isn’t on the island at all?”

  I chewed my lip. There was a real possibility that we could have been led astray.

  “Think about it,” said Tanuu. “Where are you gonna hide something that big?”

  Not on a tiny island, I thought.

  “If it’s not here, how are we supposed to get to it?”

  “Maybe we need to sail somewhere else to find it,” said Annith. “We can take the Massacre ship and the warriors along with us, and go hunting for it.”

  As we neared the docks, the crowd thickened. I said nothing, surprised to find myself entertaining the idea.

  But this didn’t make sense. All signs pointed to the leviathan being on the island. Why would Adaro want me to find it if it wasn’t on Eriana Kwai?

  “Where do you think it is?” I said.

  “We aren’t sure …” said Blacktail.

  “It’s got to be somewhere no one will stumble on it,” said Annith. “Like Antarctica.”

  “But the story mentioned an opening in the earth, like a crevasse,” said Tanuu.

  “Where does a person find a crevasse?” said Blacktail.

  “Glaciers and stuff,” said Tanuu.

  “If it was in the ocean, Adaro would have found it by now,” I said.

  “Unless it’s unreachable,” said Blacktail.

  “Okay, what about the deepest part of the ocean?” said Tanuu. “I bet a giant two-headed snake wouldn’t be the creepiest thing down there.”

  “Ugh,” said Annith. “Giant squids.”

  “Mariana Trench is basically just a big crevasse,” said Tanuu. “It’s all chasms and volcanoes because of the tectonic plates.”

  I stopped walking.

  “You are such a nerd,” said Blacktail. “Crevasse? Tectonic plates?”

  “I happened to get an A in Geology,” he said, throwing back his shoulders.

  Annith noticed I had fallen behind and turned. The other two slowed.

  “Tanuu, what did you just say?”

  “Uh … geology?”

  “No.” I walked forwards, and something on my face made Tanuu step back. “No, not that. The deepest part of the ocean.”

  “The Mariana Trench?”

  I pulled the bone dagger from my waistband with trembling fingers. The trees. The hole in the middle. The scene looked familiar because it was familiar. I’d spent my entire childhood there.

  My mind worked furiously. The enormous puddle in the schoolyard. It never dried up. Its depth was so mysterious that kids spent recess making up stories about it.

  “Eriana Trench,” I whispered.

  Blacktail gasped.

  I looked between them, heart pounding. “You guys, it’s a crevice!”

  “Crevasse, actually,” said Tanuu. “A crevice is a small crack—”

  I took off at a sprint.

  The crowd had thickened around us, and I had to push by a stream of people moving the other way. I veered into the woods, around the throng and into the muffled silence. I took the most direct line to the schoolyard, hopping over logs and bushes like a deer, using the dagger to slash through branches.

  I stopped at the edge of the schoolyard, clutching a stitch in my side.

  I lifted the dagger horizontally. The weapon showed a hole in the middle, a large tree on the right, and a cluster of smaller trees on the left.

  Beyond it, the schoolyard held no cluster of trees—but there was an apple tree growing alongside the school, hugging the wall. On the far side of the giant puddle stood an enormous sequoia.

  I sprinted across the field to see it from another angle, and then he
ld the dagger up again. On the left, the school and the apple tree. On the right, the sequoia. In the middle, its shape perfectly fitting in the hole, was our beloved Eriana Trench. I ran up to the spot indicated by the notched arrow.

  Tanuu, Blacktail, and Annith emerged from the woods across from me, panting hard. I stuffed the dagger back in my belt and unlaced my boots while they jogged to meet me.

  “This is where I need to go in,” I said, pointing at the puddle. “This side. Right here.”

  The three of them yelled at me at once.

  “You’ll freeze!”

  “What are you gonna do, dive to the bottom?”

  “Can we, like, talk about this for a sec?”

  I pulled off my boots and socks.

  “This shirt is cotton. Blacktail, you’re in wool, right? Switch shirts with me.”

  I began pulling my arms through my sleeves.

  “Meela!” said Tanuu, grabbing my wrists. “Calm down. You’re freaking out.”

  I drew a breath, arms halfway through my twisted sleeves. “I’m not freaking out.”

  “You kind of are,” said Annith.

  “It’s down there,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “We need to hurry.”

  “We don’t know exactly what’s down there,” she said. “This could be dangerous.”

  “More dangerous than sending girls on the Massacre?”

  “Maybe you should think—”

  “What else is there to think about, Annith?”

  “Meela’s right,” said Blacktail. “The ceremony’s about to start. There’s no time to stop and think about it.”

  Annith looked unconvinced. Meeting her hazel eyes, I couldn’t manage more than a whisper.

  “I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I don’t do it.”

  Annith crossed her arms. “That mermaid means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

  I dropped my gaze.

  Tanuu was removing his shoes. Blacktail scoffed, shoving him so he fell sideways.

  “Don’t be dumb,” she said. “You’re not even a descendant.”

  He regained his balance and straightened. “But—”

  “She’s right. Stay here,” said Annith distractedly, still staring at me.

  I felt a surge of gratitude towards them. I didn’t have the energy to argue any longer.

  Tanuu looked between the three of us and crossed his arms, looking bitter. “Fine. But you should take my sweater, not Blacktail’s. Mine has muskox wool in it so it’ll keep in the body heat better.”

  Annith still stared at me funny, her face slackening. Something clicked into place behind her expression.

  Tanuu pulled his arms from his sleeves.

  “I’d rather wear hers,” I said. “Yours makes me itchy.”

  Annith continued to stare. Her eyes glossed over, like her body couldn’t do anything while her brain was working so hard.

  “Really?” said Tanuu, aghast. “But … muskox wool! What kind of person likes sheep’s wool better than muskox wool?”

  Annith rounded on him, making him jump back. “What do you care if Meela likes a certain kind of wool?”

  Tanuu looked alarmed. “I just—”

  “It’s the way the wool reacts with her skin,” shouted Annith, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Some people are born with sensitive skin! So what if they end up liking certain types of wool better than others? It’s not a choice, now, is it? Meela has her own wool preference and you need to accept that!”

  Tanuu opened and closed his mouth.

  “I, for one,” said Annith, looking furious at him, “love Meela the same no matter what kind of wool she prefers! Blacktail, give her your sweater.”

  Tanuu stuttered an apology, looking bewildered.

  I looked down to hide a smile.

  “It’s okay,” I said, patting Tanuu’s arm. “We’ve all had a very long week.”

  Blacktail pulled her arms from her muskox-free sweater and we traded shirts. Her gaze darted suspiciously between Annith and me.

  I glanced to Annith, who returned my hint of a smile.

  “Now,” she said, turning to Tanuu, “give me your sweater.”

  “What?” he said.

  “I’ll wear your sweater. I’m going with her.”

  “No,” I said, but she cut me off.

  “You can’t go down there alone. One of us needs to come with you if anything goes wrong. I’m also a descendant, so I’m the best choice.”

  “But you’re all …” I motioned to her leg.

  “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  I looked between the others, trying to find an argument, but Blacktail and Tanuu seemed to approve of this plan.

  “Fine,” I said. “You come. You two stay. Two and two.”

  “Good,” said Annith.

  She unzipped her hoodie, which happened to be cropped, and offered it to Tanuu. He held it between his fingers delicately, like he’d been handed doll clothes.

  “Am I supposed to wear this thing?”

  Annith pulled on his sweater while he tried to get his arms through the hoodie. He settled with hanging it off his head by the hood. He hadn’t been wearing anything underneath, so he stood shirtless with the sweater draped over his shoulders like an absurd cape.

  Blacktail averted her eyes, suddenly interested in the scenery of the empty schoolyard. I supposed the last few months in the woodshop had done a lot for Tanuu’s abs.

  I stuck my toe in the puddle and suppressed a groan. Why wasn’t it warmer out?

  A fat, cold raindrop hit my head, sending a shiver down my body.

  Without glancing back—I didn’t want to see the expressions of pity on Tanuu and Blacktail’s faces—I waded in.

  Though I’d experienced icier water on the Massacre, I was unprepared for how cold the puddle actually was. The water should have been warmer at this time of year, but it was as icy as the ocean.

  Annith followed without protest.

  I felt along the bottom with my feet, searching for anything peculiar. The squishy ground was littered with sticks, rocks, and some unidentifiable objects that might have been garbage or toys. I made it in up to my shoulders and stopped.

  “What is it?” said Annith.

  I ran my toes along the length of something, wading further until I was up to my neck.

  “Rope,” I said through chattering teeth. “It’s tight along the bottom. Think we’re supposed to follow it?”

  She didn’t answer. I felt as far along as I could, standing on tiptoe.

  The rope was strange, but would it lead to anything?

  Without hesitating any longer, I sucked in a breath and plunged. The frigid water pierced me like daggers.

  I kicked to the bottom, flailing awkwardly. I forced my eyes open but saw only mud.

  My hands found the slimy rope. I pulled myself along it, deeper into the puddle. Annith followed, edging along behind me.

  After several seconds, the muddy water began to clear and the temperature cooled even more.

  The rope disappeared into the ground.

  Was that it? A rope drilled into the ground at both ends?

  I ran my hand through the mud, finding a thin layer of gunk over top of smooth stone. I wiped the mud away, clouding the water.

  My fingers found a crack.

  A fissure? I thought.

  With a thrill in my chest that was something between fear and excitement, I braced myself against the ground and pulled the rope. Nothing happened.

  My lungs were beginning to protest.

  Annith’s hand appeared, clearing away more mud.

  I let go of the rope, ready to push for the surface, when my eyes fell upon a shape chiselled into the stone. Annith pointed frantically at it.

  It was the same serpent head as the one on the bone dagger.

  I was too desperate for air to think about it. I bent my legs and sprang upwards.

  We’d travelled a considerable ways deeper and further from where we started. I cupped my h
ands against the water and kicked hard, the distance to the surface nearly bringing me to panic.

  My head broke through and I gasped for breath, rubbing grimy water from my eyes.

  Tanuu yelled something, his voice indistinct against the water draining from my ears.

  “We found something,” I said. “The snake symbol.”

  Blacktail and Tanuu came into focus. They stood knee-deep. Like me, they showed mingled terror and excitement.

  Annith popped up beside me.

  “The rope didn’t budge,” I said.

  “We need to move the stone,” she said, panting. “It felt loose.”

  “Which way do we push?”

  “Down, I think.”

  I stared at her, wide-eyed, catching my breath. “You think it’s like a trapdoor?”

  “Yes.”

  I turned to the others.

  “If we don’t come up, it means we’ve made it inside.”

  Tanuu waded a step further, concern pinching his face. “If you don’t come up, it could mean a lot of things!”

  Blacktail placed a hand on his arm, though she looked just as uncertain.

  I drew a huge breath and dove once more, kicking wildly to get to the bottom as fast as possible. I used the rope to anchor myself. Annith did the same. We kicked the stone near the engraving.

  It was loose, as Annith had said.

  The gunk on the bottom stirred with each push, whirling around us.

  A crack appeared on either side of the rope, curving away from it. The stone was a round slab, like a manhole cover—and heavy. Each time we released our legs, it snapped closed again.

  With a synchronised push, we opened a gap wide enough to squeeze through. Annith held it in place and motioned urgently for me to go in.

  I couldn’t afford to stop and think about it. I pushed myself through the hole, into water that felt thinner and cleaner.

  The rope continued along the bottom of a wide tunnel. I grabbed it to anchor myself.

  That was my mistake.

  Like a slingshot, the stone behind me slammed shut, sending a current into my face and plunging me into blackness.

  I dug my fingers into the crack to pull the stone away. It wouldn’t budge. I slapped it with my hands, trying to wiggle it. It stayed fixed.

  I couldn’t see. Water sloshed in my ears, hollow and silent.

  My lungs protested. I spun around. Through the clear water, dim light shone somewhere in the distance.