The song fell upon them like a veil. It was a strange, haunting lament that seemed to stretch time, turning seconds into minutes, minutes to hours, while an invisible finger plucked the strings of their hearts.
Eight waves to call the tide,
On the ninth wave, the Merrows ride.
The sea began to swell.
Hughie Rua dropped the shell over the side of the Saoirse and slumped against the bow.
‘No!’ Fionn felt a terrible pull in his chest as the white spectre dissolved in the froth, sinking right before his eyes. He leaned over the boat, grasping helplessly at the water.
A sudden surge nearly knocked him into the sea. Shelby grabbed his lifejacket and pulled him back. ‘Let it go, Fionn. We’re too far from it!’
‘I have to dive for it! It’s the reason we’re here!’
‘Are you crazy?’ shouted Sam.
‘I can feel it!’ Fionn clutched the collar of his lifejacket. There was a fire erupting in his chest. ‘It’s here. It’s underneath us!’
‘You’ll lose your link to the memory if you dive in!’ Sam tugged on the rope. ‘If the candle goes out now, we’ll all be stranded in the middle of the ocean without a boat!’
‘Guys! There’s something wrong with Hughie!’ yelled Shelby, over another sky-shattering blast. A cannonball tore through the last of the Saoirse’s maroon sails.
The waves kept growing, great heaving crests pouring over the horizon and stampeding towards them. A drumbeat pounded in Fionn’s ears. It was keeping rhythm with the throbbing sea. Even the ocean knew. Somehow it knew …
The Merrows were coming.
The Evorsio was knocked off course by a towering surge. Another cannon blast – another chunk torn out of the little sailboat. Hughie had slipped out of view. There was only the tip of his leathered boot now, splayed across the deck. Unmoving.
The sea went still. The ninth wave was sucked down under the water until the surface looked as smooth and shiny as a coin. The sky flashed, the thunder roared, and from the depths of the undersea came the Merrows in an explosion of shrieking glory.
A thousand creatures shattered the surface in one endless smear of blue.
They all wore the same yellow eyes and shark teeth, clenched jaws so sharp they could cut glass. Their blade-like cheekbones protruded over hollowed cheeks, but all their tail fins were different – some were coal black and midnight blue, while others glinted tarnished gold and molten amber. Their torsos were honed differently as well, some bare and barely blue, others slashed and spattered by the sea’s debris. Some wore their hair like seaweed, long and coarse and matted with shells, but most had none at all, their ears flat and webbed beneath shining heads.
There was one alone that Fionn recognised, and he found her immediately.
Riding at the front of her army, wearing her coral and bone crown, and the most terrifying smile Fionn had ever seen, was Lír, Queen of the Merrows. Queen of Terror. She had come to answer Hughie Rua’s call, and though Fionn knew now of the Tide Summoner’s bond, he couldn’t ignore the stab of envy in his gut.
Lír released a savage cry, and Fionn’s magic jumped yet again, summoned by a power even greater than the Tide Summoner. Here was the Tide itself – living, breathing warriors, carved from the same ancient force. It felt for an awful second like the magic was trying to leap up his throat and burst from his mouth, to follow her call into war.
Why, he thought angrily, do you never answer mine?
The Merrows spread themselves in a wide circle, dragging the sea behind them. They surrounded The Evorsio, pushing the lone ship back towards the jagged rocks. Away from Fionn. Away from Sam and Shelby. Away from Hughie Rua’s unconscious body.
The sky opened in a gash of silver lightning, as the hull of The Evorsio splintered against Black Point Rock. Cannons rolled out, denting arms and fins and skulls and faces, as Soulstalkers jumped out after them, taking their chances in the sea. The Merrows were on them almost immediately, razing sharp teeth through ancient bone.
‘There’s Ivan!’ shouted Shelby. ‘He’s scrabbling up the mast!’
‘He’s going to jump on to the rocks!’ yelled Sam.
The Merrows were dragging their scarred bodies up the sides of the ship, webbed fingers tearing splinters from its hull and snapping wildly at Soulstalkers on their way down. Lír snatched one right out of the sky and broke his neck before he hit the water.
The wind was tugging at the collar of Fionn’s lifejacket. He looked over his shoulder, to Hughie Rua’s sinking boat. ‘Go and help him,’ he muttered. ‘You’re supposed to help him.’
‘Who are you talking to?’ said Shelby.
‘The island,’ said Fionn, his eyes on his sinking ancestor. ‘Why are you taking so long?’
The wind only whistled in his ears, prodding his cheeks with its icy fingers.
‘This is ridiculous,’ said Fionn. ‘Hughie’s going to drown!’
He looked for Lír, but she was lost somewhere in a sea of blood and bone.
‘Turn the boat around,’ he said suddenly. ‘We have to help him!’
‘But we’re watching the Merrows!’ said Sam, brandishing the candle in protest. ‘Look! That one just swallowed a foot!’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Fionn urgently. ‘We have to save Hughie. It’s us. It’s supposed to be us.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Sam, bewildered now.
Fionn was already slapping his oar against the waves. ‘Quick! Help me!’
Shelby sprang into action, both of them heaving as they turned the rowing boat against the tide. They were impossibly far away – and Hughie was drifting further from them with every passing second. Panic surged up Fionn’s throat until he could barely breathe from it. He dug his oar through the sea, over and over, sweat beading on his brow and magic flaring in his chest, until the waves parted around them. The little boat lunged forward, cutting a course through the froth as the wind flapped at their backs.
‘Whoa,’ said Sam, peering over the side. ‘How are we moving so fast? Is that you, mate?’
‘I don’t know,’ gritted Fionn. ‘Let’s just hurry.’
When they reached the sailboat, it was already half sunk in the water. The lip of it drew level with their noses. The bow tipped, and Hughie’s lumbering body rolled across the deck.
‘What are we going to do?’ said Sam. ‘We can’t move him! He’s way too big.’
Fionn was already on his feet, wobbling. ‘We’re going to have to drag him back to shore with us!’
‘But we’re all tied together,’ said Shelby. ‘It’ll be impossible!’
Just as she said it, the sailboat tipped and Hughie Rua rolled out, into the open water. Fionn leapt from the rowing boat, and nearly cut himself in half on the rope as it tautened. Shelby and Sam screamed as they slammed against the side of the boat. In the water, Fionn wound his arm around Hughie’s broad chest, and kicked madly with his legs. The water rose around him, pouring streams into his mouth. ‘Help,’ he gurgled. ‘He’s too heavy.’
There was a splat! from over his shoulder as Shelby jumped out of the boat. Sam followed a half-second later, the candle hovering perilously close to the waterline as he landed.
They made a triangle around Hughie, Shelby and Sam taking a leg each, while Fionn kept his arm around Hughie’s chest. His ancestor’s head flopped back on to his shoulder, his pale skin dotted with an endless constellation of freckles.
‘Hurry up!’ warned Sam. ‘The candle’s about to go out!’
They pushed and pedalled the water, leaving the Merrows shrieking far behind them. When they reached the shore, they rolled Hughie on to the sand and sat back on their hunkers, gasping for air. Their lips were blue around the edges, their soaking clothes melded to their skin.
‘W-w-well … Th-th-that. W-was. Insane,’ said Fionn, through chattering teeth.
Sam held the puddle of wax up just as the flame sputtered out. ‘I c-c-can’t b-b-b-elieve w-w-we d-d-didn’t d-d-die.’
The wind washed Hughie Rua away. The thunder rumbled after him, taking the flashing sky with it.
‘W-w-we s-s-survived,’ said Shelby, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘All of us.’