Page 53 of Virelai's Hoard
“Sorry, cap.” Draven hung his head and shrunk in on himself under her gaze. The sight tugged at a memory lapping at the edges of her awareness. But she didn’t care to reach out, or about the damn trees, or about anything besides the treasure and the water. Those were the only two things that would give her release. If she could just–
Someone grabbed her arm, holding her back as the others reluctantly resumed the trek. “Calla,” Gadrielle said quietly, once the rest of their group had walked out of sight. Her brown eyes were searching, filled with concern. Confusion. “What’s going on? This isn’t you.”
The words cracked away at something. She remembered another crewmember, shrinking in on herself under someone else’s anger. Calla had been the one to step in then–she’d been the one to smooth the tempers, reduce the damage, put amused smiles on her crew’s faces.
It felt like a life-time ago. A different person. That had happened when she’d been mere days away from a dive into the sea. It had beencyclesnow. Even so, the sharp moment of self-awareness filled her with shame.
“I–” She swallowed. “I forgot myself.”
She couldn’t go snapping at her crew like that just because she was in pain. Without them, she’d be–she’d be just a freak. They deserved better. The Calla that was wise and composed and patient and fair. Notthis.
Gadrielle’s gaze softened, as did her grip. It cracked away at more of Calla’s walls. “We know something’s wrong,” she said, and her words were almost pleading. “We can see it. You need to tell us how to help you, Calla. Or hell, someone. It doesn’t have to be me. Go to Thorian, or even Sable. She’d do anything if you just asked her. Just–please.” She swallowed thickly. “You can’t go on like this. I don’t want the next funeral to be yours. No one does,leastof all Eryx.” Gadrielle sucked in a sharp breath. “I know what they said to you hurt, but they’re young and trying to deal with feelings too big to contain and lashing out as youths tend to do. Youths that didn’t just lose their best friend to the sea. Certainly you know this as well as I do. Our captain was never cruel.”
Cruel.
The word stole the breath out of her lungs. She hadn’t been herself. Or maybe this was exactly what she was, a monster never meant to see the light of day or walk the earth on two feet. Her place was down, in the deep, away from humans. Away from people she could hurt–people that could hurt her in turn.
But she wanted so badly for that not to be true. With Gadrielle there, looking at her like she cared, it would be easy to deny it.
For a startling moment, Calla almost considered it. Coming clean. Telling Gadrielle what she was, what was going on. Then she remembered her mother, stoned to death by her own village,her father’s grip iron-tight on Calla’s shoulder as he made her look on.
‘You’re not like her, are you?’he’d asked between clenched teeth.
And Calla had pressed her lips together and shook her head. She’d been five.
She had no other memories of her mother. Just her voice, her making Calla promise to never let anyone know what she was, and her death.
A coldness gripped Calla’s lungs. Her crew was still human. She’d seen the way they spit on deck at any mention of sea folk. They might’ve left Vareth, but their disdain was still there, plain to see if one knew where to look. They would never forgive Calla for what she was. It was foolish to hope otherwise.
But Calla couldn’t bring herself to lie to Gadrielle. Not here, not now. “You can’t help.” It echoed the,‘You’re already helping’that remained stuck in her throat. Two sides of the same coin.
“You don’t know that. You’re not even trying–”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” She snatched her arm from Gadrielle’s grip and walked away. She’d already said too much.
All of this was hertryingto fix everything that was wrong with her. She wastryingto guarantee her crew’s safety, even if the Heart failed her. With or without Calla, with Virelai’s Hoard they would have enough gold to see them to the end of their days, to keep them safe on land, where they belonged. What more could they ask of her? She didn’t have anything more to give.
When they caught up with the others, Gadrielle half a step behind Calla, the rest of the group stood where the stream led to a wide, stagnant lake, the jungle forgotten at their backs. They quietly murmured among themselves as they peered across the open water. The murmurs died down as they noticed Calla, and that made her guilt flare again. Gadrielle’s words had brought itinto the open air and now there was no escaping it. It was almost as strong as Calla’s urge to dive head-first into this lake. As she stared at the water, forcing herself to look at it through the eyes of a human rather than the eyes of a selkie gasping on dry land, she knew the impulse held no logic to it.
The water was murky and dark, foul-smelling algae clinging to the edges meeting the earth. It was not deep, though. If she squinted, she could just about make the markings of stone beneath the surface, even and straight. Wide. A path. It led across the lake, crossing its bottom and resurfacing somewhere in the middle, far away.
Calla squinted harder in the midday suns. The heat made it hard to see that far.
“It looks like an altar,” Nyxen said, following her gaze. “If we loop around the lake, we might find another path to it, but then we’ll have to spend the night on the island.” He knelt, feeling the damp earth beneath his fingers. The stone path started a couple of feet beyond, underwater. “I can cross it faster than that. The water doesn’t look like it’ll pass higher than my chest.”
He wasn’t sure. None of them were. The lake was too wide to ascertain that from the bank.
Calla was working out how to convince the others to stand by whileshecrossed the lake–murky, nasty water was stillwater, and it would certainly take the edge off even if she didn’t get to wear her skin–when Nyxen, still crouching, reached a hand toward the surface of the water.
He didn’t see it rippling in anticipation, didn’t smell the sudden scent of decay wafting off it. Calla snatched the back of his shirt, jerking him back. Too late. A rotting hand shot out of the water and grabbed his wrist. A moment later, a blade sliced clean through it. Gadrielle, gripping her unsheathed sword, looked down at the severed hand in horror.
Nyxen, too, stared wide-eyed at the seaweed-covered fingers still clawing his wrist. A few breaths later it disintegrated to dust, joining the dirt he laid on. Calla dragged him away as more hands reached from the surface of the water, slow and grasping. The lake was crawling with them. They retreated beneath the surface as everyone stumbled out of their reach.
Calla helped Nyxen back to his feet, heart racing. “You okay?” she asked, unable to drag her eyes from the water. It was still, inexplicably, calling to her.
Nyxen rubbed his wrist, wincing. “Just a bruise, nothing to worry about.” He glanced back at the jungle they left behind. It didn’t seem threatening anymore, but rather like it was keeping a safe distance away from the dangers of the grasping lake. “I’ve been trying to explain this and the dreams away, but maybe the others were right.” His voice got quieter, pensive. “There’s no making sense of anything here. Maybe the treesweremoving.”
Calla pressed her lips together, nodding in thought, forcing her gaze away from the water. “We’ll go around the lake, see if there’s a safe path for the altar,” she said finally. That was their only choice. There was no telling what would happen if they got stuck on the island overnight, but leaving without the clue was not an option. She was fraying at the edges, and it would only get worse from here. Next time there might not be a Gadrielle to keep her in check. “We need to get to that altar.” She felt it in her bones that it held what she needed. “Move fast and keep clear of the water. Let’s go.”
