"I told you?"
"When you…" Cerené stopped, as if not wanting to hurt Fable's feelings. "Look, there is no need to talk about it. Just do it. Seal the cave. I know it hurts, but look at it this way: no one will think of you as the weakest and the youngest anymore. I know you aren't. I know you're stronger. Much stronger than what anyone else thinks."
"Seal the cave?" Fable looked at the opening. She wished she had learned how to do that from the books she'd read in the Waking World. Was Cerené implying Fable had become a witch in the last three months? What kind of witch, and what power did she have?
"You told me you spread your arms and concentrated," Cerené said. "I even remember the spell, but I know it wouldn't work with me. I am not a witch."
"The spell." Fable nodded. "Really?" She pretended she was curious. "You're a good listener, Cerené." She faked a smile. "But I don't believe you remember it. It's a hard spell."
Fable really hoped this would work.
"Not that hard." Cerené poked her playfully. "Elle tortula. Belle fortulla. Sealle cavura. Webbe spidura."
Fable was glad she had memorized so many spells in the Waking World, or she would have needed Cerené to repeat it. "Of course I'll do it." She waved her hands, as if it were easy. "Let's go back and seal the cave from inside. That's what you meant, right?" Fable supposed this spell would keep the huntsmen from getting inside and hurting them for a while, but what about when the seven wanted to go out again? She asked Cerené, who confirmed that Fable had told her she'd use the same spell to do that.
Inside, everyone anticipated Fable. She smiled at everyone. A weak smile. A smile of a liar who might be messing with their lives. She really hoped Cerené was right. "We're going to be all right," Fable said, pretending. "I'm going to help you."
Fable turned to the cave and spread her arms toward it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and began to recite: "Elle tortula. Belle fortulla. Sealle cavura. Webbe spidura."
39
The Queen's Diary
The best thing about waking up was knowing that I wasn't dead. The worst was that some lives were worse than death.
I lay on my back on several logs tied with a rope. I could feel each log surging pain into my back. I couldn't move for a long time, and Angel wasn't nearby. At least not in my peripheral vision. I didn't hear his voice, nor was I strong enough to call for him. I gave in, looking at the sky above.
It seemed too dark up there. No moon. No stars. Nothing. A blank piece of black—wait, not really black, maybe grey or a faint brown that seemed blurry. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me. I tried to open them as wide as I could. I didn't think there was anything wrong with my eyes. In fact, they seemed the strongest part of my body right now.
What's wrong with this sky?
Every now and then, there seemed to be lines in the sky. Curvy lines, as if the sky was bending down on me. The lines were faint, far away, and inconsistent, but I followed one, craning my neck so much that I let out a painful scream. The craning made me see my pale feet. Had Angel taken me underwater to escape Fate's tides? Was he able to breath underwater? Was I?
But that didn't matter. It was that line bending down from the sky, sinking into the black of the sea, right beyond my feet. Then it disappeared into the tideless waters. Where was this place, so calm in the sea? Had Fate's wrath ended, just like that?
I ached to prop myself up on the logs. It was painful, but I needed to see where I was.
Everything around me was dark. In fact, I had never seen the sea as dark. At least the place felt safe.
"Angel?" My voice seemed hollow. I couldn't explain it. It must be how it sounded in a calm sea. But Angel didn't reply.
The raft underneath me was big enough for six or eight people. A rather small, flat raft. It seemed to have been recently constructed, because the ropes were really tight and strong. It could not have endured Fate's wrath. Did Angel make it for me?
Then suddenly I realized that I couldn't see the sack. Where was my sack? Without it, all of this was in vain.
My pain subsided, and I crawled on hands and knees, searching the raft. There was nothing to search. It was just logs, and I was upon it. Plain and simple. If there was a sack I would have seen it. Still on my hands and knees, I squinted against the curtain of moonless night, looking for my sack. Maybe it was floating nearby.
Be reasonable, Carmilla. The sack would easily sink in the water. It's gone.