The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea (15 page)

Suddenly he lashes out, grabbing my wrist. I try to pull away, but his grip is viselike, powerful for an elderly scholar. But that was my mistake for thinking he was anything other than a spirit with inhuman strength.

At the same time, the Red String of Fate starts thrashing. Something must be happening on the other end.
Shin!
Is he being attacked?

I try to tug my hand away, my heart racing, my head clouded from the wine-spirits. Why was Lord Crane here, when he should have been meeting with Shin?

“I sent a missive to Lotus House with every intention of parting Shin from your side,” Lord Crane seethes. “How furious I was when I discovered you accompanied him here. Luckily, you separated yourself from the Silver One. It's been a long time since I was human. Was I ever such a fool?”

“You are still a fool,” I grit out, “if you think to kill Shin through me. Afterward, when I'm left bleeding on the floor, Shin will be very much alive, and he will have his revenge.”

My words must pierce through his triumph, because Lord Yu looks doubtful. He loosens his grip.

Seizing this opportunity, I reach for my knife, slicing it through the air between us. Lord Yu howls, stumbling back, his hand to his cheek, where my blade has left its mark.

I fall, hitting the floor just as a shout rises in the hall and the door bursts open.

 

Shin barrels into the room.
He takes one look at me on my side, the table turned over, and the tea set now in pieces on the floor, and an incredible fury seems to overtake him. He grabs Lord Yu by the collar and throws him up against the wall. “I should kill you for this!”

Lord Yu appears almost gleeful as he gasps, “You found her quicker than I thought. It's as if you were guided by an invisible fate. I wasn't certain before, but I am now.”

“Mina!” Namgi's by my side, helping me to stand. “Are you hurt?”

Outside in the hall there are the sounds of battle, shouts and steel against steel. Kirin must be holding off the guards.

“I'm fine,” I say. “I nicked him with my knife.” Lord Yu's cheek bleeds freely now.

“Let's go,” Shin says, dropping Lord Yu to the floor. He turns, reaching for me. I wince as his hand closes over my wrist.

He pushes up the sleeve of my dress. A great bruise has already formed beneath the skin where Lord Crane grabbed me.

He takes in the bruise; he says not a word, though his eyes seem to somehow grow even darker. Twisting away from me, he seizes his sword.

Namgi grabs him from behind. “Shin, stop! Lord Yu is the head of Crane House. Even you can't kill him without angering the other houses. We have to go before we're overwhelmed.” As if to emphasize Namgi's words, there's a great thundering of feet on the floorboards above us, guards of Crane House gathering to defend their lord and home.

Shin reaches for me again, this time taking my hand.

Out in the hall, Kirin stands above the unconscious bodies of five guards, his white robes pristine, as if he hadn't just been in a scuffle.

“Lord Shin…,” he begins, but Shin brushes by him. Guilt sweeps through me—had I not left Kirin's side, this wouldn't have happened. And yet, I can't regret the actions that led me to Lord Yu; although he was treacherous, he did share knowledge.

Neither Shin nor I speak as we traverse the long hallway back to the library, leaving unchallenged through the great doors we entered not an hour ago.

Shin's face is set, his expression grim. He doesn't let go of my hand until we've walked a far distance.

“What happened after you left me?” I ask. Over my shoulder, I see Namgi and Kirin spread out, watching our backs.

“Lord Bom was there when I arrived.” Shin shakes his head. “But he had soldiers with him. It was a trap. Crane and Tiger were working together.
Th
ey meant to keep me occupied until they could get to you.” He growls, clearly frustrated
with himself. “I should have anticipated this. You're in danger because of me.”

I should tell him what I discovered from Lord Crane:
Th
e curse upon the Sea God can be lifted if he forms a Red String of Fate with a bride. And in turn, Shin's and my fate can be unmade, if either of us were to make a stronger connection with another.

Th
e answer seems clear. For both of us to have what we want, I should form a bond with the Sea God.
Th
en Shin will be free, and my people will be saved.
Th
e path I'm supposed to take is right in front of me.

Why, then, do I feel as if I've lost my way?

As we walk, I become aware of a low, rumbling sound. I noticed it on our journey to Crane House, though it was in the distance. It's louder now; I can feel my bones humming in answer.
Th
e air grows cooler, and a heavy mist rises to the height of my ankles. A chill wind catches the strands of my loosened braid, unraveled in the tumult.

“Is that a waterfall?” I ask.

Shin stops to remove his outer robe, placing the long jacket over my shoulders. Immediately I stop shivering, the jacket warm with the heat from his body. “It's the river.”

Th
e way he says “river” suggests it's not an ordinary body of water.
Th
e rising mist thickens. I pull Shin's robe tighter around me, breathing in crystals of ice that catch sharply in my throat. Ahead is a river shrouded in mist. It's not overly wide—I can see the far shore—but it's loud, the strong current buffeting large objects on the surface.

“Is that…?” I edge closer to the shore. It takes me a moment to grasp what I'm seeing. A pale hand, a bloodless face.
Th
e objects aren't debris, but
people
.
Th
ey float on the river, their bodies half-submerged. I count four, five, six individuals, and those are just the ones closest to the shore. More float ever closer to this point in the river, and even more have already passed.
Th
ey're all so still. Too still …

I catch sight of a thrashing movement. In the middle of the river, a child struggles against the current. Her cries are faint, almost noiseless against the onslaught of rushing water. Her desperate arms reach up, breaching the surface, only to get sucked down again, too exhausted to keep afloat.

I rush forward, but Shin stretches out his arm to block my path. “You can't go into the river,” he says. “
Th
e current is too swift. It'll sweep you away.”

“I have to help her.”

“I'm afraid it's impossible. Only the dead can enter the River of Souls.”

I've heard of this river before; Mask mentioned it the night we first met. But she also mentioned that spirits can pull themselves from the river, should their will be strong enough.

I watch as the little girl struggles to keep her head above the water.
Th
e other bodies have their eyes closed, as if in sleep, but the girl refuses to accept the course of the river. She wants to live.

Shin curses beneath his breath.

I follow his gaze farther up the shore. A man approaches the
water. From this distance, I can't see his face, but he's tall, with black, shoulder-length hair.
Th
e waters nearest the shore calm with his approach, and he wades into the depths. While the rest of the river rushes powerfully along, a circle of smooth water surrounds him.

“Who is he?” I ask.

“
Th
e death god, Shiki,” Shin says. “One of the more powerful gods, and no friend of mine.”

Shiki.
Th
e one who Shin fought for the soul of last year's bride, Hyeri.

Moving slowly, the god approaches the little girl, halting a short distance from her.
Th
e girl—out of breath, out of strength—catches sight of him. She resumes her struggle, but this time, in his direction. It's slow progress, but her will is strong. She refuses to give in to the relentless current. Finally, reaching the god, she grasps on to his robes. He takes her up in his arms, cradling her close. Weary from her ordeal, she falls limp.

Th
e death god begins to walk with the girl toward the opposite shore. Halfway across the river, he stops, turning to stare directly at us. Balancing the child with one arm, he uses the other to point to a bridge spanning the length of the river, his meaning clear. When Shin nods back that he's understood, the death god continues his slow advance through the water.

Kirin and Namgi wait for us at the edge of the bridge.

“Is it wise to meet the death god alone?” Kirin says, once we've drawn close. If he's still upset from earlier, he doesn't show it.

“Shin will be fine, as long he's with Mina,” Namgi answers. “Shiki has a soft spot for Sea God's brides.”

Whether Shin agrees or not, he doesn't argue further, stepping onto the wooden slats of the bridge. Neither Kirin nor Namgi moves to stop me as I follow him into the mist.

It's thicker here than it was by the shore.
Th
e atmosphere feels familiar, and I wonder if this is the same bridge I found myself on when I first woke in the Sea God's realm.

I follow the Red String of Fate to the middle of the bridge, where Shin waits, peering into the mist.

“What lies on the other side of the river?” I ask.

“Star House,” Shin answers, “where the death god resides. Other than that, mountains and mist.
Th
e fog thickens the farther from the city you venture. You can wander in the mist for weeks and come out where you started, or on the other side of the city. It's why I lost the thieves' trail. In the mist, it's difficult to keep track of anything. Spirits often get lost in it, trying to find a way to return to the world of the living, but it's not possible. Once you come down the river, you can't go back.”

I shiver at the thought. “What do you think Shiki wishes to speak with you about?”

“In truth, I can't say. Last we met, we clashed. With words and weapons. I had taken the soul of the bride, as I have every year, yet Shiki, having grown protective of the girl, demanded its return. When I refused, we fought.”

“And yet her soul was returned to her,” I say, the implication being that the outcome had been in Shiki's favor. In my mind, I
envision the memory of Hyeri, peering out from the palanquin's window, her eyes alight with curiosity and laughter.

“She had interrupted the fight. She was … dying, apart from her soul for too long. And Shiki, the God of Death, could do nothing. I returned her soul then, if only to stop him from complaining.”

“Ah,” I say. “So Shiki won in the end”—Shin scowls—“because he had a friend like you.”

Shin shakes his head but doesn't deny my words. “Proper thanks he gave me. After saving her life, he called me a ‘bastard without a soul,' and left. I haven't spoken to or seen him since.”

Shin's story has revealed more than he might have intended. For Shiki's sake, he saved Hyeri, giving rise to rumor and scorn against himself.

“How can you be certain that you don't have a soul?” I ask.

“Every being has a soul, whether it's hidden inside you, as it is for humans, or in a different form, as it is for beasts of myth. Gods also have souls. For the Goddess of Moon and Memory, her soul is the moon. For the Sea God, his soul is the dragon of the East Sea. For household gods, their souls are the hearth; for gods of the mountains, rivers, and lakes, their souls—”

“Are the mountains, rivers, and lakes,” I finish.

He nods. “And so when the mountains, rivers, and lakes are destroyed, so are the gods. Because when the rivers are polluted and the forests burn, the gods fade and disappear. I am a god who has lost his soul and with it, all my memories of who I once was,
of what I was meant to protect. In this way, I should have disappeared a long time ago.”

Th
e pain in his voice is unmistakable. He closes his eyes. More than anything I want to comfort him in this moment, and yet I don't have the words. Even when my soul was a magpie, I knew it still existed, just outside myself. It wasn't lost. It wasn't forgotten.

I think of all the many things Shin has done for me: saving me from Lord Crane, bringing me to the Sea God, retrieving the paper boat. He might not believe he has a soul, but I do.

I reach to my waist and unknot the silk bag, tilting it forward until the object within rolls onto my palm. Shin turns, drawn by my movements.

“Look, Shin,” I say with a smile. “I found your soul.”

I lift my palm. At the center sits the pebble with the carving of the lotus flower.

He says nothing for a few minutes, and I wonder if I've offended him. But then he reaches out his hand, brushing his fingers across the pebble and my open palm.

“It might not be as large as a mountain or as bright as the moon,” I say as he lifts his eyes to meet mine, a heartbreaking, vulnerable look in their dark depths, “but it's just as beautiful because it's
your
soul. It's strong, resilient, and steadfast. And stubborn.” He laughs softly. “And worthy, just as you are.”

Shin's breath catches.

My heart begins to beat painfully in my chest. “Well?” I say, lifting my hand. “Will you accept it?”

But instead of taking the pebble, he slips his hand over mine,
the pebble pressed between our palms, holding tight. “If I take it,” he says, “I won't ever let go.”

It's not a question, and yet I feel as if he's waiting for my answer.

Th
en he tenses, his eyes narrowing on something past my shoulder. He pulls me to his side. Death steps out of the mist.

 

The death god is a
young man with handsome features—a long nose and wide lips. His skin is moon pale, so unlike the vibrant, fun-loving Hyeri, who before she was sacrificed to the Sea God was famed in all the seaside villages for looking as if she held the sun beneath her skin.
Th
ere's something melancholy about the god, the dark circles beneath his eyes that suggest a want of sleep, his serious expression. Suddenly I'm glad this god of death has Hyeri, who was so full of life.

Th
e death god comes to a halt a few paces away. “My guards reported seeing you at the border of my lands,” he says in a voice deep and without inflection. “What were you searching for in the mist?”

“
Th
ieves broke into my house,” Shin says. “I was following their trail, but lost it in the mountains.”

“What did you discover?”

“A plot concocted by Crane and Tiger. To kill me and overthrow the Sea God.”

“Ah,” the death god remarks. “Lord Yu and Lord Bom are
ambitious.
Th
e more spirits that arrive in this realm, the stronger their houses grow. But death should never be encouraged.”

I must make a sound at that, because the god's gaze turns to me.

“But you are the God of Death,” I say. “Does your power not grow with each new death that enters this world?”

“I am a death god, but my purpose lies in the balance between death and life. When the scale is tipped too far in favor of one, the imbalance disrupts the unity of both worlds, the human realm and the realm of spirits.” He approaches the railing of the bridge, staring down at the rushing waters below.
Th
e death god's face shows the first sign of emotion—apprehension. “
Th
e river is rising. Eventually, it'll overflow onto the bank, bringing with it spirits who have no desire for this world. With so many lost spirits walking the Sea God's city, the Spirit Realm will become a sorrowful place indeed.”

Shin frowns. “Is there no way to stop the river from rising?”

“
Th
e source of the river is in the human realm, where life ends and death begins. As we have no power over that which brings death—battles, starvation, and disease—there is little that can be done.”

“What about the Sea God?” I ask. “
Th
e storms have destroyed so much.
Th
e warlords battle over what little is left, sowing chaos and leaving behind devastation in their wake.” I step away from Shin to face both him and Shiki, the spray of the river on my neck. “
Th
e Sea God's curse is no longer a problem for just the human world alone, but for the world of spirits and gods as well. We need to put things right before it's too late. Before both of our realms are destroyed.”

“I've seen this look before,” Shiki says. “On the face of someone beloved. Is it an expression all the brides of the Sea God share? A potent mixture. Hope. Determination. Fury.”

Hyeri.
He's speaking of Hyeri.

He turns his gaze to Shin. So far, neither one of them has brought up the incident that separated them as allies and friends. Instinctively, I take a step toward Shin, as if I can block him from any harsh words.

“I'm afraid I've been unfair to you,” Shiki begins, to Shin's surprise and mine. “You've protected this city when no one else would. While others would wish to abandon, overthrow, or even kill the Sea God, you've protected him and the brides, and in turn, kept peace and order in this realm. I apologize for many things, but mostly I apologize for making the weight you carry a little heavier.”

I stare at Shiki, stunned by this extraordinary apology.

“And I think,” Shiki says softly, “perhaps, now you understand me a little more.”

I glance between them, wondering what he means by these last words.

“I'll take my leave,” Shiki says. As he turns, he addresses me. “You would be a welcome guest at my house…”

“Mina,” I say.

“Lady Mina. I know my Hyeri would be glad to see you.”

“And I her. It would be an honor.”

He bows, then slips into the mist.

Shin and I leave the bridge. Joining Kirin and Namgi, we head into the city.

It's full dark now, the streets aglow with many lanterns, their candles dimmed by the wind.
Th
e farther we travel from the river, the warmer it gets, until I no longer have a need for Shin's over-robe. I take it off, looking ahead to where he walks with Kirin. Shin appears to be doing all the talking, while Kirin walks with his head down. It's clear Kirin is being reprimanded for what happened at Crane House.

“Don't worry too much, Mina,” Namgi says, following the direction of my gaze and correctly guessing my thoughts. “Kirin would feel worse if Shin said nothing.
Th
is way, he knows exactly how he failed Shin, and will do better next time. If anything, Shin will trust Kirin even more now, since in order to prove himself, Kirin will be even more attentive and dependable. In other words,” Namgi drawls, “he'll be unbearable.”

Th
e streets are deserted, probably due to a sudden sweltering heat, despite that evenings here are usually cooler.

“
Th
ough I do feel for Kirin,” Namgi continues. “He never gets in trouble. Not like me.”

“You have a kind heart, Namgi.”

“Kirin does as well.” I must look doubtful, because he hurries to explain. “He forms attachments slowly, but when he does, he's the most loyal friend, fiercely protective of those he cares about. He would do anything for Shin.”

“And you?” I ask softly.

Namgi says nothing, though a shadow falls across his face. “When I look at Kirin, I see only him, a bright light in the darkness. When he looks at me, he sees only the darkness.”

We reach the central marketplace of the city. At the far side is
the Sea God's palace, looming beneath a sea of stars. Hundreds of night stalls border the street, and yet they're oddly quiet, without merchants to hawk their wares.
Th
ere's silence all around, a stillness like death.

“Namgi…,” I say. “Where are all the people?”

Namgi peers at the empty market, then glances behind us to the deserted street. His brow furrows, and he reaches for his sword at his waist.

Suddenly all around us falls a heavy curtain of darkness, as if a cloak were thrown over the stars.

I look up and scream. Above us, forked tongue lashing out, is a monstrous sea snake.