The Seventh Tide (3 page)

Eo took a step closer. And another. Then, without warning, the side of the whirlpool split open, vertically, in an explosion of white noise that threw him on to his back and tore all the breath from his lungs. Out of the rip plunged a gigantic white mare, lean as a predator, with muscles that showed like bunched steel as it galloped on to the beach, bucking and screaming and biting the air. Then, just as suddenly, the vortex sealed itself again.

Wheezing and rasping, Eo pulled himself up on to his knees. He barely registered that the pressure in his head had eased and he could hear again. He no longer noticed the immense column of water whirling its frantic cargo so close beside him. Crazed by terror and Kelpie mesmer, he was utterly focused on the horse.

The huge mare thundered to the far end of the beach and reared round, flailing its hooves in the air and screaming a triumph. As its front legs hit the sand again, Eo could feel the ground shake, and then it was powering towards him and he had staggered to his feet, and at the last second the horse stopped, stiff-legged, showering him with grit. It stared down at him with black, blank eyes, and spoke.

‘So small,’ the Kelpie said. ‘So utterly insignificant. And yet the life in it… luscious! I can almost taste it already…’

Eo stood there, watching helplessly as the great head began to lower towards him, the lips pulled back to show sharpened white teeth. With an enormous effort he tried to raise an arm to cower behind.

Flecks of foam flew from the Kelpie’s mouth. Three drops fell on Eo’s bare forearm. He watched in horror as his skin began to blister, as the acid in the spit started eating into his flesh. For a moment he was too shocked to feel anything at all. Then the pain hit and Eo, screaming, collapsed in a heap on the sand.

All over the island and beyond, in ever-widening circles, G were dragged out of whatever was absorbing them by their awareness of his distress. Sooner than seemed possible they began to arrive, in so many forms – birds, beasts, creatures of the sea – then morphing into human as the seriousness of what they faced became clear.

And as they changed, the Kelpie began to change too. Slowly grotesquely… For the G, each shift is a single, continuous, effortless swing into the new form. But
this
was painful to watch, a horrible lurching, limb by limb, from a horse to a tall, tall woman, pale-maned, with long feet and hands and a skin so white it was almost transparent, like the skin of something that lived in the cold depths of caves and could not imagine the sun. When her transformation was complete, she stood before them all in a woman’s shape, but tall as a thundercloud, merciless as an iceberg, and with a set of mind-boggling curves that defied gravity and several other laws of physics. The G in human form are a spare, slight people. Compared to the Kelpie, they looked like a flock of children, yet they pressed forward, trying to get close to the boy.

With one white foot she pinned the barely conscious Eo to the sand and swept the G with her dead black eyes.

‘I am the Queen of the Kelpies,’ she hissed, ‘and he is
mine.
He opened the way and his soul is ours to feed on, according to the Rules.’

Interactions between the worlds were governed by ‘the Rules’. No one knows who first spelled them out in words, or when the species of the various universes agreed to be bound by them. But bound they were. There may be ways to make the Rules work for you – whole encyclopedias had been written on the subject. But the Rules themselves must be followed through to the end. With a sigh, the crowd of G fell back.

The Queen laughed. It was a sound like razor shell on roughened rock. Still laughing, she was reaching a long white hand down towards Eo –

– when a large dog loped up, pushing past the legs of the G. It panted to a halt, dirt all over its nose, tongue hanging out of the side of its mouth. (If Eo had been conscious of anything outside his own pain, the sight of that muddy nose would have made his heart sink. Only the extremely foolish, or the pathologically brave, dared interrupt the present Head of the G while she was digging out rabbits.)

‘Rrrr?’ the dog growled.

One of the G stepped forward and whispered into the animal’s ear. A look of embarrassment crossed its face and it at once began to blur upwards.

‘I do beg your pardon,’ it said as she became human. ‘Rude of me not to have changed for company.’

Someone passed her a robe. With a murmured thanks, she pulled it on over her head, and turned to face the Kelpie once more. Two other G, male, one middle-aged like the Head, the other young, came to stand beside her. (Since no one was much interested in the bother of politics, the adult members of G society took it in turns to form a very basic government – one to be in charge, called the Head, and two to assist, called Designated Companions.)

‘I am Hibernation Gladrag, currently Head of the G.’ She gave a slight bow. ‘And these are the Designated Companions – Market Jones and Interrupted Cadence.’

‘You
name
your Lackeys?!’ sneered the Queen. ‘Then you are even more of a fool than you look. I have no
interest in your introductions – I’m leaving now. The brat’s mine. Unless…’ A new, slightly mad light flickered in her black eyes. ‘Unless he’d like to choose a Wager…?’

There was an almost visible shiver in the crowd of G. Everyone knew how addicted the Kelpie were to gambling.

‘The boy is in pain,’ Gladrag said firmly, ‘and in no condition to consider that. We will first deal with the damage you’ve done him.’

‘Don’t trouble on my account,’ said the Queen. ‘He’s in perfectly good enough condition for
my
purposes.’

Hibernation Gladrag continued to gaze calmly at the Queen, waiting, as if the Kelpie hadn’t spoken. The moment lengthened unbearably until, with a tiny shrug, the Queen stepped aside.

Eo was immediately surrounded by G, shielding him from the Kelpie’s sight and therefore from the full brunt of her mesmer, but it didn’t seem to help. The boy was still broadcasting anguish.

‘Why doesn’t it stop?’

‘Why isn’t he healing himself?’

‘Where’s Abalone?’

One of the first things Gs learn is medical maintenance – how to shift the shape of any
part
of themselves if it becomes damaged. Eo should have immediately blocked the pain pathways to his brain and set about healing the wounds the Queen had inflicted.

But nothing was happening.

‘I’m here.’ Pentathlon Abalone was the closest the G had to a medic, and he’d taught practically every member of the crowd their maintenance skills, including Eo.

‘Why isn’t he healing?’ came the anxious question from all round.

Abalone bent over the boy and examined him carefully. He shook his head. ‘These are not natural wounds. Healing them will not be simple. I fear… Eo, can you manage the pain? That at least should not be affected. Try’.

Abalone had a soothing, familiar voice, and it was this more than anything that got through to Eo in his blind distress. He stopped panting and whimpering, and began to work.

‘That’s right. You remember. Start at the source of the pain. Follow the pathways to the door of the brain. That’s it. Now shut the door. You can do it…’

Every G on the beach felt the relief when Eo succeeded. It was so great for Eo himself that he went wobbly again, falling back into the arms of Abalone in a half-faint.

The Queen was pacing impatiently. She stopped in front of the Head and snapped, ‘I hope these
repairs
aren’t going to be lengthy. My people have been abstemious long enough. I’d hate to keep them waiting more than need be.’

‘Been having trouble breaking through, eh?’ muttered the G called Market Jones.

The Queen didn’t deign to look at him directly. ‘Tell your Lackey to mind his manners,’ she snarled.

Gladrag inclined her head. ‘Market, behave yourself,’ she said solemnly.

Market made an elaborate bow, and then murmured to the other Companion, Interrupted Cadence, ‘So hard to get good Lackeys these days.’

The Queen resumed her pacing.

‘Souls
…’ they heard her mumbling,
‘so many souls… I smell their souls
…’

‘How vulgar,’ commented Market.

‘Are you unwell?’ Gladrag asked politely.

The Queen swerved suddenly and loomed over the Head of the G. ‘I
won’t wait any
more!’ she half-snarled, half-wailed.
‘He’s mine – hand him over
!’

She focused her attention and, at once, Gladrag could feel her throat beginning to close up.

‘Nggg… ggg,’ she said – and then Interrupted Cadence thrust himself between her and the Kelpie.

‘No stomach for that Wager you mentioned? Of course you
know
you’d lose,’ he snorted. It was only partly a snort – the rest was a sort of nervous squeak – but at least he’d broken her attention. He could hear Gladrag dragging the breath back into her lungs behind him.

When he looked round at her, however, she and Market both were gazing at him in dismay. Then the Head rallied.

‘Er, yes, that’s right,’ she croaked, trying to give an impression of calm, while behind her back she was making wild open-handed gestures. ‘Why don’t you, um, make my day.’ A ginger-haired G clutching a book (entitled
Encyclopedia of Demonic Entrance: The Rules, and How to Make Them Work for You, Volume One)
pushed through the crowd and succeeded in thrusting it into the Head’s flailing hands. Gladrag heaved a silent sigh of relief. ‘If you’ll excuse us for just a moment…?’

The three went into a huddle. Market and Interrupted immediately began to squabble with each other in low voices.

Are you out of your tiny mind?’

‘I didn’t
see you
doing anything – that was your Head she was strangling, or didn’t you notice?!’

Gladrag was leafing through the book with what was meant to look like only casual interest, but was in fact becoming more and more of a desperate trawl. The others paused, watching anxiously as the blood drained from her face.

She waved the book at them. ‘It only goes up to J!’ she hissed.

‘What!?’

‘What I
said –
this book stops at J. “Kelpie” starts with the letter K, or had you forgotten!? The information on Kelpie Challenges must be
in Volume Two!
’

She turned and mimed frantically at the G who’d brought the book. He blanched, and fled in search of Volume Two.

‘But…’ Interrupted was whispering to Market, ‘it’s not a problem, is it? Because we all
know
that stuff. We were tested on it enough as kids. Right?’

‘Of course I knew it
then –
but I haven’t exactly been revising ever since. Have you?!’

Interrupted shook his head mournfully.

‘Time’s up!’ blared the Queen. ‘Let him choose a Wager, or let me take him as he stands!’

‘OK. Right. He can choose,’ shrilled Gladrag. ‘But you can’t interfere with him – you can’t use your mesmer on him! He must
be free
to choose!’

‘And
you
must not prompt him!’ said the Queen, and she grabbed the (in fact useless) encyclopedia out of Gladrag’s hands and tossed it away.

Gladrag bowed her head and then turned to the silent crowd. ‘All right. Send out the boy…’

Eo had been lying still, keeping his eyes shut. At least one part of his brain was desperately hoping the whole thing was just a bad dream. If it was, the dream wasn’t over yet…

‘Come on, boy’ said Abalone. ‘You heard her.’

Reluctantly, Eo opened his eyes, and squinted up at the faces surrounding him. There was no sign of his mother or father, but he knew he shouldn’t be surprised. The sprats were running in the South Atlantic and no natural power on earth could travel so far so fast. It would take them several days at least to return, even with parents’ terror and gannets’ wings. Totally irrelevant facts about the migratory patterns of schooling fish rose to the surface of his mind, and sank again.

He staggered to his feet, the crowd parted – and Eo had his first glimpse of the Kelpie in her human form. There was no mistaking her – even without the sudden blast of her mesmeric power hitting him between the eyes. If anything, it was worse now. The Queen may have been magnificent as a horse, but as a woman she was more than any fifteen-year-old boy should have to face.

He came close to fainting again.

Everyone was staring at him – he could feel the intensity of all those eyes, making his skin creep. But he couldn’t have turned and looked back at any of them to save his life. Not with the Kelpie Queen there before him, so close she filled his eyes, his brain…

If only she’d hold still!

But the Queen wasn’t moving. What made her seem to be writhing voluptuously was the way her robe swirled round her body, sliding over her curves like waves round
a shape on the shore, obscuring, revealing, caressing. Her mane of pale hair stirred about her face and shoulders as if it were alive, and her black eyes bored into him like cold fire.