The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)
By: Heidi Heilig
I did, and there she was, my ship, my home, the memory clear in my mind’s eye. My arm itched; the lines of ink seemed to prickle, and then I felt it: moisture on my skin, and the taste of the sea mist over the flavor of honey. The fog was coming.
It was easy to cast aside the cave, for there was nothing there to hold me. The pull of the ship was almost physical; would this be my last time aboard? Once I returned to the Temptation, I wouldn’t have much time—if I was going to go after Kashmir, I’d have to send Cook on to London without me and trust that Slate could find me later in Honolulu.
But either way, I wouldn’t leave Kashmir behind. We had been apart too long already. I was almost eager to face Crowhurst as the mist curdled around me, condensing on my cheeks, curling in my hair, clinging to my clothes. The temperature dropped in the cave, and gooseflesh rose along my arms. I started shivering as the hum of the bees turned into the roar of the ocean, but something was wrong. The fog continued to thicken until it was impossible to breathe, and at first I thought I was falling again, no, tumbling—so cold—not through the air, but through the icy currents of the Iroise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I screamed, or tried to, and water filled my throat. I coughed, convulsing, tossed like a fishing boat in a hurricane. The waves pushed, the current pulled. I struggled toward the surface—or toward the ocean floor? I could not tell up from down, I could no more sense gravity than I could breathe, and any moment I dreaded being dashed against the rocks, if I did not drown first.
And then I did hit something—but not stone. The current was sweeping me along the smooth belly of the ship. I scrabbled for purchase with my raw fingers, but the hull was slick—copper clad. Still, I’d felt the curve of her and knew where the surface lay. I fought the current, kicking upward, but the sea was stronger than I was.
Could I take hold of the safety line as I passed the stern? My limbs were already numb with cold. I fought for air, my fingers frozen, lungs aflame, sliding along the back of the ship—then past. My hands swept through icy emptiness; I had never felt more alone.
Was this what Kash had felt, out in the Margins? What he would feel, if the sea took him from me? Despair flooded in, colder than the water.
But then something took my arm.
Claws bit my skin. The hand was scaled—I opened my mouth in shock, and the tide poured in. Yanked against the current, I rose toward the surface, where my grasping fingers tangled in a rope. The strange hand released me as I hauled myself along the line with strength I didn’t know I’d had. When I broke into the air, my first breath was more primal than a scream. Shaking water out of my face, I searched for a glimpse of my savior, but the foamy sea gave nothing away.
Then I heard shouting over the sound of the waves. Blinking away the salt, I saw I was holding fast to the Fool’s anchor line; she’d hove to beside the Temptation. I never thought I’d be happy to see Gwenolé’s face.
Oddly, she looked happy to see me too—or at least, satisfied. “She’s here!”
At her shout, my father rushed to the rail of the caravel. He grinned, giddy with relief, and hung over the side, calling out encouragement as Gwen herself reeled me in like a fish. As soon as I was close enough to the corvette, I slid my arm through the rung of the ladder that ran down the Fool’s stern. I was bleeding from five deep scratches in my forearm, but the air was colder than the water and I could hardly feel the wound.
I was coughing now and shivering, too weak to climb up. But Gwen threw down another rope, tied in a loop; I slipped it over my head and under my other arm. With her taking my waterlogged weight, I managed to guide myself up the ladder. At the top, she pulled me over the rail and onto the deck.
I lay like a landed fish, gasping at the grim sky. Clouds boiled overhead as water pooled beneath me. Gwen rubbed some life into my limbs; as blood returned to my extremities, my skin burned. Now my arm began to sting.
“I saw you go over the side,” she said to me, and though her voice was brusque, there was concern in her face. “What the hell were you thinking?”
With numb hands, I felt for the bottle of Mnemosyne water, safe in my pocket. “I’m t-t-trying to lift a c-c-curse,” I said through chattering teeth.
“By drowning yourself? Hmm.” She gave me a twisted smile. “Maybe I should throw you back into the sea.”
I rolled my eyes and tried to sit up. “Throw me b-back to the Temptation instead.”
“Probably best that way.” Gwen helped me to my feet; standing was an excruciating pain. My feet felt swollen but hollow, as though they’d gone to sleep. “You’re no kind of captain if you keep jumping ship.”
Together, we staggered to the rail; already, her crew was rigging a rope from the Fool to the Temptation. I took it in my hands, but I hesitated as a realization came. “I can get you past the f-f-fog,” I said then. “Back to the Port of London.”
Beside me, Gwen stiffened. “How, exactly?”
“All you have to do is let J-James take the helm.”
“Who?”