Other times he shook and sobbed, though he was so dehydrated that he couldn’t produce tears even if he wanted to. “I don’t know what you want with me!” he cried, his voice growing so hoarse that the pirates couldn’t hear him anymore.
Finally he slid to the bottom of the boat, into the sludge, and passed out. And in his unconscious state, he dreamed of his brother, and of a better life.
» » « «
It was dark and choppy when the pirates unhooked the chain. The wind slapped waves against the sides of the little fishing boat, and the current, though not strong enough at this distance to pull the pirate ship into its grasp, was more than mighty enough to control the small vessel. The boat succumbed to the outer reaches of the hurricane, and went sailing into it without a struggle as the pirate ship pulled away and grew smaller. Soon the pirates’ laughter was drowned out by the whistling wind.
But Aaron heard none of it. He flopped about, shivering on the floor as the tips of waves licked the lip of the boat, and he rolled from side to side as the sea swelled. It was only when the rain came in sheets that Aaron roused. Perhaps it was instinct as the pure liquid touched his lips. Fresh water. He forced himself to lift his head, barely raising an eyelid, and opened his mouth wide to let the cool, driving liquid hit his tongue and the back of his throat. Sweet relief.
As the rain quenched his thirst, the ride grew rougher and more waves splashed in. Aaron grabbed on to the side of the boat and hoisted his battered body to a sitting position against the bench. He stayed hunched over so the driving rain didn’t sting his broken face. The strengthening wind whipped his loosening clothing and made his cheeks shudder, and once his mind returned to him, he grew scared.
“Help!” he rasped as a pitchfork of lightning crackled in the sky. “Please help! What’s happening?” The boat began to move faster through the water.
The waves grew and thunder crashed. The wind whipped the rain until the drops flew horizontally. They felt like hard pellets hitting Aaron’s face, nailing his eyes and nostrils and eardrums, no matter how he tried to shield them. He grew dizzy with the speed of the watercraft and all the rocking and rolling. Soon, it was all he could do in his weak state to hang on. And before his muddled head could think, the fishing boat was darting past slices of rock jutting out of the water.
As lightning became more frequent, Aaron could see the path forward. Dangerous obstacles peppered the shoreline of a desolate island. Waves swelled and rolled, dragging the little boat with them. Aaron’s screams were barely audible above the roar of the sea, and the wind sucked the breath from him.
Aaron clung for dear life to the side of the boat as it careened crazily toward the maze of boulders and wrecks, narrowly missing one after another, and causing Aaron’s heart to leap. The boat went faster and faster, and began to bump against rocks, throwing Aaron from one side to the other.
When the next series of lightning made the sky glow, Aaron’s gasp stuck in his throat. He barely had time to close his eyes before the boat’s front end flew up and went airborne over a rock, flinging Aaron to the floor, and then it crashed on another, splintering the little boat into a thousand pieces and sending Aaron flying into the sky. When he came back down, he landed hard on a rock with a stomach-churning thud, and was still.
The next giant wave rolled in and poured over top of him. When it receded, the high priest of Quill was gone.
In an Icy Land
Meghan Ranger wasn’t the only one who had given her life for Artimé. And she wasn’t the only one to die saving another person. Artimé was filled with heroes.
While Alex and Lani worked diligently around the clock to assist the living in whatever way they could, Meghan never left their minds. The days that followed the battle blurred into one long, horrible nightmare for all of them—Alex and Lani, Sean, of course, and Samheed, once he recovered enough to hear the horrible news.
Everybody mourned in his own way—they’d seen evidence of that when Mr. Today died, and were reminded of it now as Unwanteds poured every ounce of strength and grief into breaking through the layer of ice that covered the land so that they could dig graves for the fallen. The final toll was eleven, with more than thirty injured severely enough to remain in the hospital ward. The Quillitary death count was much higher, yet no one came to claim the bodies, so the Artiméans buried them, too.
Sean’s manner of grieving for his sister was loud and quick. He was completely inconsolable for a day. Not even Carina, who had pushed aside the fight they’d had, could comfort him. But after that, he pulled his sadness inward. He was alive, and he had work to do. Alex needed him. And he knew the most about what was happening in Quill.
Well, almost. Charlie actually knew the most, and he did his best to share the information he had, but no one had a moment to listen.
When finally Alex could take a break from the endless task of caring for his people, he and Lani sought out Sean and helped him walk into Ms. Octavia’s empty classroom where they could talk in private. Simber, Florence, Claire, and Haluki joined them, while the rest of Artimé had dinner in the dining room. It was a somber meeting.
“I’m certain that voice was Gondoleery Rattrapp’s,” Sean said. The circles were deep and dark under his eyes, and his tone was reserved. “She’s one of the new governors, and I fought against her—she’s one of Aaron’s Restorers. Or at least she was, until she did this.” He pointed out the window at the ice-covered world.