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

  “You, obviously,” said Annith, picking up the defective crossbow.

  Blacktail slid the dagger back through her belt, nodding. “You’re the best shot.”

  “Plus,” said Tanuu, brandishing the fire iron like a sword, “I have a better chance of fending off a demon with an old-fashioned beating stick. My aim with a crossbow sucks.”

  “That inspires confidence,” said Blacktail.

  Tanuu glared at her. “I have a good swing. I play baseball.”

  “Baseball won’t help when a mermaid tries to lure you.”

  “If you’re trying to get me to volunteer to stay back—”

  “You don’t have the proper training. Besides, men are vulnerable to the allure. You shouldn’t be coming.”

  “He’s not going to listen, Blacktail,” I said. “Persistence is his most endearing quality.”

  She huffed. “If he gets hauled into the water, it’s on you.”

  “Fair enough,” said Tanuu. He thrust the fire iron into the air. “To the beach!”

  Annith and I slung the crossbows over our chests and stuffed ammo in our pockets. My pants sagged under the weight.

  I led us downhill towards the beach, peeling away from the main trail.

  Behind me, Blacktail moved in silence, her small body gliding through the deer path. “Any hunches about what the Host actually is?”

  “I bet it’s a giant seahorse,” said Tanuu. “And Adaro wants to ride it into battle.”

  “That,” said Blacktail, “is the stupidest thing I have ever heard.”

  “Well, what do you think it is?”

  She considered for a minute and then said, “A kraken.”

  “Ew, it better not be,” said Annith. “Can you imagine octopus suckers the size of your face?”

  I had, plenty of times. I hoped the Host was nothing like that.

  “It could be a spirit. Like the spirit of Eriana,” said Blacktail.

  I shook my head. “Adaro called it a pet. It must be a living creature.”

  But it was an interesting theory, a break from the various animals I’d been imagining. How much did Adaro know? Could the Host actually be something inanimate?

  We came to a ravine, where a fallen hemlock acted as a bridge. Ferns crowded the foot of the log. I pushed them away with the crossbow, clearing a path for us to cross on our hands and feet like monkeys.

  “Maybe it’s a giant anglerfish,” said Tanuu.

  “Gross,” said Annith. “Stop being so pessimistic. It could be something beautiful, like a water fairy.”

  The sound of the ocean met my ears. Light poured in ahead, indicating the edge of the forest. I stomped through some saplings towards it, grateful I’d worn shoes this time.

  We emerged to find a thick layer of driftwood.

  I stopped. A salty breeze blew wisps of hair around my face. I’d been too distracted by the conversation to note why the path to the beach felt so automatic.

  There was the tide pool where Lysi and I used to tackle each other—and beyond it, the place where Lysi had been shot by the crossbow now slung across Annith’s chest.

  My throat tightened. How many times had Lysi and I met on this beach? Would we ever meet here again?

  Tanuu was staring at the grounded fishing boat. “Yikes.”

  Out of habit, I had averted my eyes from the ghostly sight. Mermaids had killed the sailors on board and the boat washed onto our shores, never to be touched again.

  Annith must have seen something in my expression, because her gaze never left the side of my face.

  “We’ll go this way,” I said, stepping through the driftwood. “We can check the cliff face on the way to Skaaw.”

  Blacktail craned her neck. “We’re below your house?”

  “Yes. That’s east. Haida Gwaii is over there.”

  I pointed across the empty water with an iron bolt, where the Canadian land mass would have been visible if we were up higher and the sky wasn’t so cloudy.

  The others scanned the cliff face, eyes following every crack in the stone. I removed the crossbow from my chest, cranked the lever, and dropped a bolt against the shaft.

  “Keep your eyes open for anything out of place. Anything that looks like it could be manmade, or—”

  “A giant neon arrow that says This Way to the Host,” said Tanuu.

  We started along the pebbled beach, staying as far from the shoreline as we could. We searched as we walked, heads swivelling between the cliff face and the water.

  Outside the dense forest, the waves were the only sound. I listened to the way they roared towards us then trickled back. Every pebble had an influence on the water, giving each wave a unique song.

  Blacktail frowned at the rocky face towering over us. “It’s grim down here.”

  “Something about the water,” said Annith. “It’s so …”

  “Empty,” said Tanuu.

  I said nothing. With the entire underwater world stretching before us, existing so far beyond what our eyes could see, I felt anything but empty.

  “I’ve been having nightmares since we got back,” said Annith. “This sound is always the background.”

  I’d also been having nightmares. But the ocean was never the villain.

  We trekked across the beach until my hips protested from the slanted surface and my ears rang from the wind. After an hour, we arrived at a stretch piled with too much driftwood to climb over. Behind it, a steep slope led up to the tall, bald trees that had been pushed backwards from constant wind. Getting around the driftwood meant either climbing the bank, or edging dangerously close to the water. We opted for the bank.

  Finding no secret cave entrances, we rounded the next bend in the shoreline, where the cliff rose again. The beach narrowed. Our path became a slab of solid rock no wider than an arm span.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Annith.

  Both light and dark lines decorated the cliff face—millions of years of layers reminding me how ancient the island was. It gave me hope that at least one secret had yet to be discovered.

  At least thirty eagles flew in slow circles above the cliff top. I scanned the water with a tightened grip on my crossbow.

  “Keep your weapon between you and the water,” said Blacktail.

  Tanuu was the only one carrying his weapon in the wrong hand. He switched his grip on the fire iron. “If the cliff attacks me, I’m blaming you.”

  We hopped over a stream between two boulders, continuing along the narrow passage in single file, our backs to the cliff.

  “Good thing we waited for low tide,” said Tanuu. “This path would be—ARGH!”

  A wave broke against the cliff, Tanuu catching the worst of the spray.

  Annith wiped salt from her eyes. “More of those will be coming.”

  Water bubbled out of several fissures in the cliff. I followed a deep one with my eyes, upwards until I couldn’t see it anymore. It seemed likely that one of these fissures could open to a cave—but how would we get to it? Would we need to scale the cliff, or lower ourselves from the top?

  Tanuu followed my gaze, and then poked his fire iron into the gap. It went in halfway before hitting solid rock. “Nope.”

  “Look out!” said Blacktail.

  I whirled around with my crossbow ready. She’d crouched, iron dagger over her head like a harpoon. I followed her gaze with my weapon, but the water was empty.

  “I saw hair,” she said, breathless. “Light. Reddish.”

  “Sure it wasn’t seaweed?” said Tanuu.

  Blacktail snarled like a dog. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “She probably sees our iron,” said Annith.

  We stayed facing the water for a minute, weapons up. Nothing surfaced.

  Blacktail stood. “Let’s keep going. I don’t like this. We’re trapped between a rock and a dead place.”

  We continued in silence, checking the water for threats and the cliff face for crevices. As Annith predicted, more waves soaked us as we edged
along, until we were drenched and shivering.

  Two persistent bald eagles followed, making silent circles.

  I stopped as a gap wide enough to fit my foot opened in the stone face. It continued above my head.

  “Don’t you dare,” said Tanuu, when I hooked my fingers and a toe inside it.

  I squinted upwards. “I’m just checking. I don’t think I’m that good a climber, anyway.”

  I traced the fissure with my eyes. It stayed the same width, and might have even tapered part way up the face.

  “Keep moving,” said Blacktail, a crushing grip on her dagger as she scanned the waves.

  Cold, wet, and getting moody, I conceded.

  We kept shuffling across the narrow strip of rock, waves reaching for our legs in a rhythm. Nobody spoke. My nerves pulled taut as I wondered if the tide would rise before we found dry land again.

  After another long while, the cliff lost elevation. We all sped up.

  We rounded the next corner to find ourselves facing a mound of solid, black rock.

  Tanuu raised the fire iron in celebration. “Skaaw!”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. We raced towards it and scrambled up without hesitation, eager to put distance between us and the water.

  From the top of the lava swell, I scanned the beach. Skaaw was smaller than I’d expected—maybe the size of a school gym. The hardened lava descended sporadically from tree line to water, chiselled by a million years of tides and earthquakes. Every surface had ripples and holes, preserving the exact moment when the lava had frozen mid-flow.

  “Nice place for a mermaid to chill out,” said Blacktail.

  She was right. Rock pools were everywhere. The shelves of lava might as well have been benches and picnic tables.

  “Stick together,” I said. “I don’t like this any better than the cliff.”

  We advanced slowly over the uneven footing. Every wave sounded like a mermaid rising from the water.

  I kept track of the blind spots. Rock pool to the left. A drop-off to the right. A thick column ahead.

  I motioned for Annith and Tanuu to cover Blacktail and me while we cleared the column. We rounded it at a wide angle like we were trained, finding only empty lava rock at the end of our crossbows. Without a word, we continued.

  Two pools lay ahead, linked together by an hourglass pinch point. I leaned over, crossbow ready. Urchins, crabs, and seaweed speckled the bottom. No caves, no mermaids. We stepped across the pinch point and kept going.

  If we did encounter a mermaid, our only option would be to fight. Trying to run over the ripples and holes would guarantee someone falling.

  We peered down a crevice. Green algae wallpapered the sides. A stream at the bottom pulsed with each wave. We hopped over.

  Then the lava rock plummeted, ending in a pool too deep to see the bottom. A wave exploded against the back, sending a wide spray.

  As it retreated, the pool drained to reveal a large hole.

  I stepped towards it, using the ripples in the rock as a ladder.

  Tanuu grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?”

  The next wave came, the pool filled, another spray erupted.

  I pointed with my crossbow. “Watch.”

  The swell retreated, and the cave opened up.

  “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me you’re going to jump in there,” said Annith.

  Another wave exploded against the rock. The spray rose high over our heads, like the spout of a whale. The tide was coming in.

  I hesitated, shivering. It had been several hours since we left, and every part of me was sore. A morning spent scrubbing the house wasn’t helping.

  “Let’s take a break,” said Annith.

  “Not until I’ve checked this area,” I said.

  “Meela, this beach is too alive with sea gunk,” said Blacktail. “The water must come all the way up at high tide.”

  “So?”

  “So Adaro could easily get to anything on this beach. Including that hole.”

  I frowned. She was right. If the Host was here, Adaro had no reason to make me get it for him.

  I followed Annith’s eyes past the pool, where the lava rock dropped off to a pebbled beach. The gap was as wide as a street and backed onto a heavenly patch of sand.

  “Come on,” she said. “We’re all tired. Continuing like this could be dangerous.”

  I glanced at the lava behind us, disheartened. What were we missing?

  Annith led us as far from the water as we could manage. We slumped down, leaning against a pile of driftwood. Sand clung to our wet clothes.

  “My arms are dying,” said Annith, massaging her biceps.

  Blacktail held out her dagger. “Trade me.”

  “You’re the best,” said Annith, wincing as she lifted an arm to take it.

  Tanuu rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a tin of jerky. “Don’t ask what kind it is.”

  I grabbed a piece of the dark red meat, mouth watering.

  Mystery meat was nothing new. Without the ability to fish, wild game had been over-hunted. Most families supplemented their diets with any meat they could find: birds, rodents, the occasional bear, even raccoons.

  “Mm, cats,” said Blacktail.

  “Kittens, actually,” said Tanuu. “Fluffy white ones.”

  “You guys are awful,” said Annith through a mouthful.

  As I scarfed down a fifth piece, I took in the patch of beach. The tide crept up the pebbles. The driftwood at our backs created a border between sand and earth. Beyond it, the earth sloped upwards like the trough of an ancient mudslide.

  Ravendust bushes sprang from the patchy grass in clusters. Beside us, two of the tar-black bushes even grew on the beach, having been pushed away from the crowded earth.

  That, I thought, was the mark of a relentless plant: so deeply rooted that it would grow through rock and sand.

  The black lava rose to our left and right. Beyond Skaaw Beach, the cliff continued.

  “Let’s go a little longer,” I said. “We can cut back through the forest at the next break in the cliff.”

  “What if there isn’t another break for ages?” said Annith. “We could be in the middle of nowhere when the tide comes in.”

  She had a point. With the tide advancing, we risked drowning—or worse.

  What, then? Did we give up and go home? The idea irritated me. We’d spent the whole day searching and hadn’t found any indication that the goddess Eriana had been more than a made-up story.

  Seeing my expression, Annith climbed onto the lava rock and squinted at the beach ahead. “I mean, we could keep …”

  She didn’t bother finishing the sentence.

  Blacktail stood. “The waves are too violent. Look at all the white. Anyway, we’re searching too close to the water. It has to be somewhere Adaro can’t reach.”

  Annith turned to the bank behind us. “Maybe we should check a bit higher.”

  Before I could answer, she began to climb the slope. Blacktail followed slowly, poking the fire iron into the sand at regular intervals as though checking for a trapdoor.

  I smiled in spite of my exasperation. At least they were willing to keep searching. The Massacre must have given us all the same relentless stamina.

  “Sure,” I said. “Tanuu, go ahead of me.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Tanuu?”

  I turned.

  Tanuu was at the shoreline, on his knees.

  He was face-to-face with a young woman.

  She was naked, strawberry hair combed away from her face, dripping down her back. The waves concealed her lower body. Soft freckles swept across her cheeks and the bridge of her small nose, adding youthful innocence to the otherwise mature and elegant face. Her white skin was too smooth, parted lips too full, vibrant eyes too large, too captivating.

  The mermaid’s hand came to rest on the back of Tanuu’s neck.

  I shrieked. “Tanuu! Stop!”

  He didn’t hear me, or at least didn’t a
cknowledge that he had.

  I snatched up my crossbow in the same moment as the mermaid’s skin rippled into the texture and colour of rotting seaweed. Her ears sprouted longer, bulbous. Webs grew between the fingers behind Tanuu’s head.

  I raised the crossbow—but Tanuu blocked the line between the mermaid and me. I couldn’t shoot.

  The demon’s eyes burst crimson, as though filling with blood. She bared a row of long, pointed teeth.

  Tanuu seized up. His cry of terror echoed off the surrounding cliffs.

  I ran forwards.

  Blacktail was already there. She raised the fire iron over her head and brought it down hard. The demon reached up to defend herself, catching the fire iron in a webbed fist. It sizzled on contact. She howled in pain.

  I reached for Tanuu—but an irregular wave lapped beside me. I spun.

  A second demon lunged from the water, snarling. I fired. The bolt shot through her forehead.

  I grabbed Tanuu by the arm, hauling him away. Annith appeared beside me to help, having leapt down from the bank.

  Blacktail yanked the fire iron out of the demon’s grip. The hook sliced her webbed hand with a spray of blood.

  Tanuu stumbled, gaping at the demon that had been a beautiful woman a moment ago. I kept a firm grip, dragging his dead weight further from the water.

  The demon lunged for Blacktail’s legs. Before she could bring her to her knees, the iron came down hard on the top of her head. She fell sideways, and Blacktail struck again, putting the weight of her body into the swing.

  After five years of military training, her aim was true and her strength impressive. I winced as the hook met the demon’s face. Blood spilled onto the rocks. The demon spun at the impact, keeling into the water.

  She lay motionless. A wave carried her tail onto the shore, where it fluttered in the breeze.

  Annith and I let go of Tanuu part way up the beach. He fell into the pebbles.

  A moment passed where we all stared at the two mermaids, panting. In death, their skin faded to a human tone.

  “You’re not the only one with a good swing,” said Blacktail, straightening up.

  Tanuu gawked at her, the distant look in his eyes clearing. “That … that girl was a sea demon!”

  I pulled him to his feet by his armpits. “Caught on, have you?”