Page 79 of The Neverfear

The Racing Tide

Irian could see the tide rising up the beach. It had come in slowly at first, but now it was fast: fast enough to send Koo burrowing in fear into the depths of her hair.

‘Today is the day that the tide will reach the top of the cage,’ said Carla. She unlocked the door, and set it open. Irian made a sudden move towards it, but the chains on her ankles held her fast. ‘I would say I wish you luck.’ Carla pulled down a small iron lever set in the doorframe. ‘But I wouldn’t mean it.’

He came, Fidens Nighthand, over the water. His whole body pointed towards the northern shore of Paraspara like an arrow: he had never looked more terrible. The Ever Onward surged up the beach, and Nighthand dropped anchor and swung down into the water, ankle-deep.

The Berserker wildness was in him. This was not the man who had bustled about the kitchen, whistling through his teeth. This was the lawless Nighthand: the man who had struck terror into the hearts of those who met him. There was nothing in his eyes now but rage, and love, and rage again.

He scanned the beach. He saw grey sand, churning sea, and in the distance what seemed to be a rock, the waves creeping towards it. ‘Irian!’ he roared. ‘Irian!’

‘Nighthand!’ The cry came as faint as the wind.

He ran towards her along the shore, the glamry blade in his fist. The rock took shape as he grew closer, became a cage, a hunk of metal squatting on the forsaken landscape.

He had nearly reached the door when there was a cry, and a stymphalian bird dived out of the air and landed in front of the cage. It was ridden by Carla Venasque. She carried a sword.

‘Fidens Nighthand. Your instructions were to come unarmed.’

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘You!’

‘Lay down your knife, or I will put this sword through her neck.’

He hesitated, his eyes on Irian’s face. He laid down the glamry blade on the grey beach.

‘Back away!’ Carla dismounted. ‘Further! Further, or she dies!’ She picked up the knife, inspected it carefully. Then she stepped backwards and jerked her head at the cage.

‘What did you come for? Go and rescue your love. The door is open.’

Irian cried out, ‘Nighthand! Wait!’ She might as well have called out to the wind. He burst into the cage and seized her in his arms.

A spring under the floor of the cage shuddered and the door slammed shut behind him.

Nighthand swore. He seized hold of the bars and pulled. The whole cage shook, but the bars did not give way.

Irian’s face was very still. The tide was beginning to rush in over the floor of the cage. ‘They won’t bend even for you, Fidens. We’re trapped.’

Carla came to stand three paces from the bars. ‘How sad, to have come all this way just to die together. But romantic, which I’m sure will be some compensation to you, Nighthand, now that you’re so invested in love. I shall watch you from the air.’ She lifted the glamry blade at them in salute. ‘While you drown. It’s a racing tide: it won’t take long.’

The tide was surging, water eddying round their ankles.

Nighthand strained again at the bars. His expression had become deadly serious. His hands and voice shook. ‘I am sorry, my love. What a fool! I saw you chained, and I ceased to think.’

The waves were rough, smacking at Irian’s legs. ‘If I could just get to my knife!’ said Nighthand. ‘That woman …’

He stared upwards to where Carla Venasque swept in wide circles overhead on the back of the stymphalian bird, watching the sea take possession of the cage.

Nighthand braced his back against the bars and again tried to break them apart. He heaved; the bars vibrated, but gave no inch.

There was a peeping from Irian’s hair.

Nighthand stared at her. ‘Is … your hair nervous?’

Irian tried to smile. She reached into her braids, and brought out the small form of Koo.

‘You need to fly away now, Koo,’ she said. ‘The water’s coming. Get somewhere safe.’

‘No! Mine!’ he said, and he tried to wriggle back into her braids. ‘Mine, mine.’