Through the Ever Night

She moved toward it, slipping as she crept down the slope. Aria crouched before a leafy shrub. Slowly she pushed the branches aside and saw nothing but leaves. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Whirling, she drew her knives. She found herself alone with the swaying trees.



“Relax,” she muttered to herself, sheathing her blades.



She heard the humming again, faint but unmistakable. She rounded the shrub and peered inside.



A pair of eyes blinked at her less than a foot away. The boy looked so small, sitting on his knees. He had his hands pressed over his ears, and he hummed a melody, lost in his own world. She noticed he had his grandmother’s round cheeks and honey-colored eyes. She looked over her shoulder. From where she knelt, Aria could see the trail back to the compound, no more than twenty paces off. He wasn’t lost—he was terrified.



“Hi, River,” she said, smiling. “I’m Aria. I bet you’re an Aud, like me. Singing helps keep out the sound of the Aether, doesn’t it?”



He stared right at her and kept humming.



“That’s a good song. It’s the Hunter’s Song, right?” she asked, though she’d recognized it immediately as Perry’s favorite. He’d sung it to her once in the fall, after much convincing, his face red with embarrassment.



River went silent. His lower lip wobbled like he was about to cry.



“My ears hurt too when it’s this loud.” Aria remembered her Aud cap and reached into her satchel. “Do you want to wear this?”



River’s hands curled into pudgy fists. He slowly drew them away from his ears and nodded. She pulled the cap over his head and tugged the earflaps down, tying them under his chin. It was far too big for him, but it would buffer the noise of the storm.



“We need to get inside, all right? I’m going to get you home safe.”



She held out her hand to help him out. He took it, and then sprang into her arms, wrapping around her ribs as snug as a vest. Holding his shaking little body close, Aria hurried, looking for Molly and the others along the trail. They came on her in a mob—soaked and enraged.



“Don’t touch him!” hissed Brooke, tearing River away. Cold rushed over Aria’s chest, and her balance faltered at the sudden absence of his weight. Brooke snatched the cap off his head and tossed it in the mud.



“Stay away from him!” she yelled. “Don’t ever touch him again.”



“I was bringing him back!” Aria shouted, but Brooke was already dashing for the compound with River, who’d begun to wail. The others filed after Brooke, some casting accusing looks at Aria, like it was her fault River had gotten lost.



“How did you find him, Dweller?” asked a stocky man who’d stayed behind. Suspicion lurked in his eyes. Two boys Aria guessed to be his sons stood nearby, shoulders hunched and teeth chattering.



“She’s an Aud, Gray,” Molly said, appearing at her side. “Now, go on. Get your boys inside.”



With a final look at Aria, the man left, hurrying for shelter with his sons.



Aria picked up her Aud cap and brushed off the mud. “Brooke’s not related to you, is she?”



Molly shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “No. She’s not.”



Aria shoved her cap back into her satchel. “Good.”



As they hurried back to the compound together, she noticed that Molly was hobbling.



“It’s my joints,” Molly explained, raising her voice to be heard. The shrill sounds of the Aether funnels were growing louder. “They hurt worse when it’s cold and rainy.”



“Here, take my arm,” Aria said. She supported the older woman’s weight. Together, they moved more quickly toward the compound.



Minutes passed before Molly spoke again. “Thank you. For finding River.”



“You’re welcome.” Even with her body numb to the bone and her ears ringing, Aria felt oddly content to walk alongside a friend. Her first among the Tides, after Flea.



7



PEREGRINE



Perry left Roar and took the trail to the harbor faster than he had in his life, sprinting until he reached the dock. There, Wylan and Gren called to each other as they tied off a fishing skiff, their clothes flapping in the wind. The vessel struck the dock in the choppy water, shaking the planks beneath Perry’s feet. His heart seized when he saw only two skiffs. Most of his fishermen were still at sea.



“How close are the others?” Perry yelled.



Wylan shot him a dark look. “You’re the Seer, aren’t you?”



Perry ran along the shore to the rock jetty that reached out like a great arm, protecting the harbor. He leaped onto the tumbled granite, then lunged from one huge boulder to the next. Geysers of seawater shot up through the gaps, soaking his legs. At the top of the jetty, he stopped and scanned the open ocean. Huge waves rolled and pitched, capped with white spray. A terrifying sight, but he also saw what he’d hoped to. Five skiffs approached the harbor, bobbing like corks in the brutal waters.



“Perry, stop!” Reef worked his way over the boulders. Gren and Wylan followed, both with lengths of rope across their shoulders.



“They’re coming in!” Perry shouted. Who was left out there? The spray blurred everything. Even with his vision, he couldn’t see the fishermen until the first boat drew close, moving past the jetty. Perry glimpsed the terrified looks on the men whose lives he’d sworn to protect. They weren’t safe yet, but the seas weren’t as rough inside the harbor as out in the open water. When the second and third boats reached the harbor, he came closer to breathing again. Closer to knowing he hadn’t lost anyone.



And then the fourth skiff came in, leaving only one more at sea. Perry waited, cursing when he saw it clearly. Willow and her grandfather sat, white-faced, gripping the mast. Between them, ears pinned back, crouched Flea.



Perry leaped down the ocean side of the jetty, drawing closer to the breaking waves just as flashes burst across the horizon, freezing the moment in glaring light. The storm had broken. Funnels dropped at sea, scoring brilliant blue lines down the cloud-darkened sky. They were miles away, but he tensed on instinct and slipped, grazing his shin.



“Perry, get back here!” Reef yelled. Waves pummeled the rocks around them, a violent assault that came from every direction.



“Not yet!” Perry barely heard himself over the thundering surf.



Willow’s skiff had broken off its course. It streamed right toward the jetty. She yelled something, cupping her hands around her mouth.



Gren appeared, balancing beside Perry. “They’ve lost the rudder. They can’t steer.”



Perry knew exactly what was going to happen, and the others did too.



“Abandon ship!” Wylan yelled nearby. “Get out!”



Old Will had already pulled Willow to her feet. He took her face in his hands, issuing a frantic message Perry couldn’t hear. Then he embraced her hastily and helped her jump off the bow into the waves. Flea leaped in right after her, and then Old Will jumped last, his expression surprisingly calm.



Seconds passed in an instant. The swell caught the skiff, pushing it into a current. The boat came fishtailing, turning backward at the last moment, so the stern smashed against the rocks just ten paces away from Perry. It folded, splintering, sending pieces flying. His arms came up, shielding himself, debris and ocean spray pelting his forearms.



He blinked hard, clearing his eyes, and spotted Willow moving right toward the mix of broken wood and white water.



“Get a line out now!” Reef shouted.



Close by, Wylan threw a rope in the perfect cast of a born fisherman. Without the rope, Willow would smash against the rocks over and again, churning in the froth. With it, they had a chance of pulling her in safely.



“Willow, grab the line!” Perry yelled.



He watched her search for her grandfather, her movements jerky and frantic, and then saw her terror as she spotted Old Will farther out. A wave washed over her, and Perry’s heart stopped. Willow surfaced, coughing up water and gasping for air. She swam frantically for the rope and finally grasped it.



Perry drew as low on the rocks as he dared, strength gathering in his legs as he prepared to grab her.



When the surf surged, Wylan and Gren pulled the rope. Willow came slicing toward Perry like an arrow. She knocked him back as he caught her, her forehead cracking against his chin. Pain burst across his ribs as he fell against the rocks. He held her for an instant before Reef swept her from his arms.



“Get out of there, Peregrine!” he yelled, carrying Willow higher on the jetty.



Perry didn’t answer this time. He couldn’t leave until they had Old Will.



Wylan threw another line. It dropped near Old Will, but the fisherman struggled, swimming in place with his head tipped up, barely above the water.



“Move, Will! Swim!” Perry yelled.



Funnels lashed down, closer now, and waves that had been five and six feet high minutes ago doubled into monstrous surges that spilled over the jetty.



“Grandpa!” Willow screamed suddenly, like she knew. Like she’d had some sense of what would come next.



Old Will disappeared beneath the water.



Perry covered the distance between him and Wylan in four leaps. He grabbed hold of the rope. Behind him, Gren’s and Reef’s voices boomed, “No!” just as he pushed off the rocks and dove.



The quiet beneath the water shocked him. Perry took up slack on the rope, firming his grip, and kicked away from the jetty. His foot struck something hard—a board? A rock?—as he came up. Waves rose in huge, rolling walls around him. He could only see water until a swell lifted him out of the trough. His stomach lurched as he rose up, and then he was at the crest, able to see the rocks where he’d just stood. Only seconds, and he was nowhere near where he thought he’d be.



Perry swam toward where he’d last seen Old Will. The current was brutally strong, pulling him back toward the jetty. He spotted movement in the water. Flea paddled twenty yards off. Nearby, Old Will thrashed in place, his silvery hair blending with the whipped sea foam.



The fisherman’s skin was ghastly white when Perry reached him. “Hang on, Will!” Perry tied the rope around him. “Go!” he yelled toward shore, waving his arms.



Seconds passed before the fibers of the rope stretched taut beneath his hands. He was pulled forward, but barely. Another tug and he couldn’t deny that together they were too heavy for Wylan. He caught another glimpse of the jetty, seeing the dark granite boulders flash white for an instant. The Aether storm was closing on them.



Perry let go of the rope, and Old Will surged away from him. He swam after, demanding more from his tired muscles. Every stroke felt like he was lifting his own weight. He could hear Reef’s and Gren’s shouts as he neared the jetty. He pushed himself. Peered up through whipping spray. A few more yards.



A sudden current gripped him like a hook, pulling him away, back toward the open water. Just as suddenly, the tide shifted, and he saw the jetty closing fast. He covered his head and pulled his legs up. His feet struck hard; then he whipped sideways and crashed into the rocks.



Pain speared through him. Spine cracking. Everywhere. The ache solidified in his right shoulder. He reached up, not recognizing his own shape. His shoulder jutted the wrong way, dislodged from the socket.