* * *
After the initial fear when the four Fae fish surged forward, almost dislodging all the raft occupants, Fingin, Bran, and Sean settled down for a pleasant, if somewhat noisy, ride. They bounced along mild ocean waves, hugging the shore more or less, as the sun played hide and seek amongst the clouds.
Fingin’s skin grew sweaty, and he removed his léine. The ocean air kept him cooler without the clothing as their fishy friends dragged them along the surface.
A few times, a startled fisherman in his round hide coracle stared in amazement as they passed. Fingin gave each a jaunty wave.
The land passed on their left, speeding by much faster than it ever had on the river. The Fae fish tried to race each other, making it a game as to who swam faster than his neighbor. Their game jerked the raft around until Fingin asked them to stop. They’d apologize, swim abreast for a while, and then get into an argument about who was faster and do it again.
Sea cliffs winked by next to white-sand beaches. Rocks jutted out of the water, covered in seagulls. They threaded between tiny islands along the coast, and around long peninsulas, fingers of land reaching for the western edge of the ocean. The brilliant sun glittered on the ocean’s surface, highlighting white-capped waves and the occasional cloud scudding across the sky.
Thus, as the first day waned, the journey had become a mix of delight, relaxation, and terror. The sun dipped into the fiery ocean, glittering across the waves, a few brilliant orange clouds racing across the orb. The temperature dropped considerably in the evening.
Fingin called out to Tanni. “Do you not need to rest? The night comes.”
Tanni barked, and they all slowed. “We’re tired, yes. And hungry. Will you call more fish? We can sleep and start again in the morning. You haven’t seen your mountaintop yet?”
He shook his head. “Not as she described it for me. She made a drawing. Most of these islands seem empty of men, and the one I search for has lots of men on it.”
One of the other Fae fish piped up. “Oh! I know that place! The stinky island!”
Fingin cocked his head. “Stinky island?”
“The men throw their waste into the water. All the water stinks of it. The fish there taste bad, so we avoid it.”
He considered that as he called for the evening meal. It made a certain sense, and the island he searched for might be the same. He grinned at the name, though.
“How much farther to stinky island?”
“Another day. We can get you there by sunset tomorrow.”
He had them push the raft close to shore for the evening and moored the craft to a tree. He didn’t wish to wake up in the middle of the wide ocean. Even before the sun had set, he saw nothing on the horizon. No mountains, no hills, no trees. It was as if the world ended in a vast expanse of water. Fingin didn’t care for the hollow sensation in his belly as he stared at it. He decided he preferred lakes and rivers to the ocean.
He slept in fits, not used to the bobbing of the raft. Sean and Bran had refused to disembark on the shore, as they didn’t want to risk getting on again. He didn’t blame them. The ocean was so different from the rivers he knew well. Vast and endless, filled with dangerous waves and strange, talkative fish. A different entity, a strange god with unknown dangers and joys.
The morning came, but no sun rose for the dawn. The Fae fish woke him, their voices filtering through the thick mist.
After their morning meals, and with many shouted directions and suggestions, he looped his twine around four of the Fae fish. Two who pulled yesterday would be escort today, and they all agreed to switch out at noon, so a third pair might rest from the heavy work.
Their high voices filtered back to him as they pulled. “Hey, stop shoving! This is my spot!”
“Then stop swimming in front of me!”
“You stop swimming behind me!”
Fingin prayed the stinky island was the same he searched for. He’d never recognize it in this thick mist. He’d hoped the fog would burn away as the sun rose higher, but that didn’t seem the case. As the day passed, the fog remained thick and impenetrable. The misty wet of the air they traveled through kept them all soggy. No amazing views of the coast caught their attention. Only gray greeted their gaze. The trip this day became much less pleasurable than the day before.
Because they were already soaked, he didn’t even notice the first raindrops. However, when the roiling of thunder boomed across the sea, and cracks of lightning cut through the fog to light it in a preternatural brilliance, Fingin realized they’d been led into the heart of a storm.
The rising waves swamped the sides of the raft as he shouted out. “Tanni! Tanni, we need to seek shelter.”
Chittering answered him. The shapes of the Fae fish disappeared in the mist, though they must have been only a few arms’ lengths in front of the raft. He dug his fingers into the twine between the logs, desperate to hold on. Bran howled, and Sean’s eyes grew white with fear. “Tanni! Tanni, bring us to shore!”
A wave slapped the raft so hard, he almost slipped off, despite his death grip on the twine. Sean slid toward the far edge.
“Tanni! Fetti! Lonno! Please! We won’t survive if the raft tips!”
The trajectory of the raft shifted, heading to the left, toward the safety of land. Some of Fingin’s abject terror faded, but he maintained his tight grip on the raft. He wished he’d thought to tie Sean or Bran down,
