Page 105 of Beneath the Haunting Sea

“And what is that?”

Lightning showed jagged against the horizon, and the black waves were crested with white. The Whale rose with them, adopting the rhythmof the sea.

“That is not for you to know, Talia Endain.”

“I know you can’t tell me my own future, but why can’t you tell me Wen’s?”

The Whale sighed, and she felt the shiver of it pass beneath her. “It would grieve you to hear.”

She hugged her knees to her chest, waves splashing up over the Whale’s head and soaking her to the skin. “Tell me. Please. I have to know.”

“Talia Endain, he willdie for the love of you.”

“Is that what you told him?” she demanded. “Is that why he’s flying up there in the storm? Why don’t you send him home and save his life? I don’t want him to die. Hecan’tdie.Why won’t you send him away?”

“Hush,” said the Whale gently, “I have told you what will be.”

She pounded her fists into the Whale’s skin and screamed at the sky.

“Talia,” said the Whale, anote of command in his voice.

Tears coursed freely down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. She bit her lip and tasted blood.

“There is still time left, you know.”

“Time for what?” she choked out.

“To tell him that you love him.”

Chapter Forty-Seven

SHE DIDN’T KNOW HOW LONG SHE HADbeen riding on the Whale. A week, perhaps, a year, half a century—it didn’t matter. Every day she sensed they drew nearer to the Tree, and every day she tried to prepare herself for what awaited her in the Hall of the Dead. Her hand slipped often into the leather knapsack, folding around the pulsing Star-light. She didn’t dare touch the casketcontaining the Tree, or try out the Words the Whale had taught her. Not yet.

Wen rarely came to perch beside her anymore, choosing to fly above, sunlight drenching his white wings. She missed his steady presence, and the Whale’s words were never far from her mind.

But she didn’t know how to save him.

One bright afternoon, a speck of green appeared in the sea ahead of them. As the Whale drewnearer, Talia saw it was an island, no larger than the bottom floor of the Ruen-Dahr. It was covered with trees and the distant glimmer of water, and on the shore stood seven goats.

They appeared to be very old, with long beards and yellowed horns and ragged coats of white and gray. Around each of their necks hung a gold medallion on a scarlet cord, the metal flashing bright in the sun. The goatslooked past Talia, just as the boy on the ship had.

“The Isle of Rahn,” said the Whale. “It has drifted some ways from where she set it at first. She did not bother to bind it in place.”

“Then we’re close,” said Talia, suddenly afraid. She glanced up at Wen, who kept pace above them. “Who are the goats?”

“The Watchers, the Wonderers, the Fearful. They were once great lords of mankind, and theysought the Tree and the power at its base. But they were too afraid to go further than the Isle of Rahn. So they sit, waiting an eternity for the courage to continue or the cowardice to turn back. Rahn found them a few centuries ago and turned them into goats, to mock them.”

The island slid past, and was soon lost in the distance. “Do you fear Rahn?”

“Fear her?” Laughter rippled through theWhale’s skin. “No. I do not fear her. Rahn is a spirit, and she has grown very strong. But she has forgotten that she has not always been strong, and that her strength cannot last forever. All things must fall, in the end, and return to dust. I do not fear her. I pity her.”

“She’s stronger than I am,” said Talia quietly.

“You knew that from the beginning, and yet you are here. But you do notcome empty-handed.”

Talia brushed her fingers against the leather knapsack. “Why is Endain the only one who knew to call you? Why do the other stories not speak of you?”

His voice was sad and deep and filled with memory. “I am written into every line of the old histories, for those who have the heart to see it.”

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