Through the Ever Night

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.

This couldn’t be happening. He swam with his good arm and begged more from his legs, but every movement sent stabbing pain across his shoulder. Through the crashing surf, he caught another glimpse of the jetty. Bear and Wylan pulled the rope hand over hand, bringing in Old Will. Willow and Flea stood nearby, shaking and soaked. Reef and Gren perched on the rocks, yelling for him, ready to hoist him out of the water. Perry kicked harder, but his legs wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t move the way he wanted them to. He was coughing up seawater and couldn’t catch his breath.