“Elspeth?”
I turned to find Matthew standing in the thickening mist. His gaze swept over me, partly in wonder and partly in disbelief. “This dinna feel like any dream,” he muttered.
My heart leapt as I understood that he was right. This was not a dream I was experiencing. “I think it is real,” I sent. “I am farseeking you.”
Matthew looked elated, stunned, then confused. “But how can your mind reach me when I am so far away an’ over the sea?”
“I am dreaming, but I think I have drifted onto the dreamtrails. Matthew, listen to me. I, and others at Obernewtyn, have true-dreamed of you, as you have of us. I know where you are and what you are trying to do. I know that Dragon is the Red Queen’s missing daughter, and we will bring her to you as soon as it is possible.”
“Dragon is in a coma,” Matthew said sorrowfully.
“No! She has wakened, though as yet she has no memory of her life before or after the ruins. She has no memory of me or…or you.”
“Perhaps that is best,” he said, and there was pain in his eyes before he vanished.
“Elspeth?”
I turned again in hope, but it was not Matthew this time. It was Rushton, smiling at me from the center of a hot spring veiled in thick white steam. Snow lay deep on the ground, and my boots crunched through it as I walked to the rim of the pool. This is a memory dream, I realized. I could have wrenched myself out of it, but how my heart yearned for him as he floated back in the water and bade me join him. For this was a memory of the last time we had been alone together before Rushton had been taken captive by the Herders. I had ridden from a meeting at the Teknoguild caves to meet him at the spring in the foothills of the highest mountains, and we had swum together. I allowed myself to merge with my dream self to more fully experience the memory. Stripping off my clothes, I entered the water, and Rushton’s arms closed possessively about me. But when he kissed me, I did as I had always done when we were so close, drawing back from final surrender, shutting up the core of myself, for how could I surrender my body without surrendering my mind? To lay that bare would mean opening up all that I was, to reveal the quest that lay at the heart of me like a black pearl that none must ever see.
There was hurt in his eyes at my withdrawal, but no reproach. And I saw in the memory, as I had not seen in the moment, that Rushton encompassed my resistance with a grace that I had never noticed, because I had been too busy protecting my secrets. He released me and drew away from me so the misty steam veiled him. Then there was only the mist, caressing my cheeks.
“Rushton!” I croaked.
Tears blurred my eyes, and I knew with sudden, utter clarity that I had been a fool to refuse him then and all the other times. Was not the song of love like the song of the sea? One must surrender to it to understand it. What would it have mattered if I held my deepest mind apart and allowed him to make love to me? I could have taken comfort from his body, giving him the comfort of mine. What did it matter if that black pearl was kept in a hidden chamber? And the cruel final thought came to me that if I had loved him, the memory of that loving might have given him the strength to endure when the Herder priests delved so cruelly inside him.
I wept, and as the water about me grew cold, I drifted from memory of dream to reality.
I was lying on my side with rain falling on my face.
Rain!
Thirst roared to life, and I rolled onto my back and opened my mouth to drink.
Upon quenching my thirst, I realized that I was not in the water. I was lying on the sand some way above the waterline, my clothes stiff with dried salt, though the rain was now softening them. I gave a choking laugh as I understood that this was what the wavesong had been trying to tell me: land was ahead, a great dark bulk where no sea creature could venture. A vast and deadly mystery for one who could not walk on dry land and live.
I must be on the west coast! I had made it! I looked around, and through the veils of falling rain, I saw, the hazy dark outline of a city. It was not more than an hour’s walk away, but I could not tell which city it was, certainly not Murmroth. I wanted to walk there at once. I needed to find out if the Black Ship had been there.
But when I tried to move, I was devastated to discover that I was so weak, I could not even sit up. Lying there, I remembered Atthis telling me that I must rise so my body could heal itself. I had been badly injured, she had said, which was why I felt so monstrously weak. My body had drained itself of strength to heal me.
Gritting my teeth, I gathered all of my will and sat up. My head swam with the effort, and I knew that I would not be walking anywhere, at least for a few days. Fortunately, it was not cold, and the rain had enabled me to drink. I was not hungry, but I soon would be, and I would need food to regain my strength.
And gain my strength I would. I thought fiercely. For I had a plague to stop. And when I had done that, I would return to Obernewtyn and I would find Rushton and I would say to him everything I had been too cowardly to say. I would lay myself bare to him in all ways, and perhaps that would be enough to heal the breach between us.
“I am coming, my love,” I thought, and hurled the thought forward with all the will that remained in me.
…we travel the path of waves,
which is full of contradictory currents
and mysterious diversions…
for my brother Ken,
who climbs mountains when you
least expect
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was written in La Creperie in Janovského, Prague, and in The Bay Leaf, Seagrape, and Cafe 153 in Apollo Bay, Australia. Thanks to Cathy Larsen for her persistence and generosity in her quest for a new look for the Obernewtyn Chronicles and for the new map, and to Nan for being all that she is, editor and friend. And a special heartfelt thank-you to the faithful readers of this series for waiting, patiently and impatiently, for what turned out to be, after all, not quite the last book.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ISOBELLE CARMODY began the first of her highly acclaimed Obernewtyn Chronicles while still in high school. She continued writing while completing a Bachelor of Arts and a journalism cadetship. This series and her short stories have established her at the fore-front of fantasy writing in Australia and abroad.
She is the award-winning author of several novels and many series for young readers, including The Legend of Little Fur, the Gateway Trilogy, and the Obernewtyn Chronicles.
She lives with her family, and they divide their time between homes in Australia and the Czech Republic.
BOOKS BY
ISOBELLE CARMODY
THE OBERNEWTYN CHRONICLES
Obernewtyn
The Farseekers
Ashling
The Keeping Place
Wavesong
The Stone Key
The Sending
Red Queen
THE GATEWAY TRILOGY
Night Gate
Winter Door
LITTLE FUR
The Legend Begins
A Fox Called Sorrow
A Mystery of Wolves
Riddle of Green
How will Ariel’s plans for destruction affect Elspeth’s search for the Beforetime weaponmachines?
Read a sneak preview of Elspeth’s attempts to single-handedly prevent the spread of the plague! THE STONE KEY is available now.
Excerpt copyright © 2008 by Isobelle Carmody
Published in 2008 by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
ONE OF THE new arrivals wore Herder robes, which was nothing unusual. But this Herder was not alone, and the man with him, with his long fair hair and fine white cloak, was no Herder. As the pair made their way along the pier, Rolf noticed that the fair-haired man was half-supporting the Herder, who limped and kept coming to a halt. But right opposite the stand, the Herder tripped. His hood slipped back so his face was momentarily illuminated in the brazier fire’s ruddy glow.
For an instant,
Rolf had looked into the Herder’s dark blue eyes, and it was as if someone had punched him hard in the gut. The Herder’s eyes had been utterly devoid of intelligence or thought, yet his expression had been one of unimaginable horror. It was as if he had seen something so indescribably awful that reason had fled, leaving only the frozen shell of terror etched into his face.
Inside his memory, I was reeling with my own shock, for the gaunt and haunted face of the Herder was that of the Misfit coercer Domick.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Isobelle Carmody
Map copyright © 2008 by Penguin Group (Australia)
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Random House and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
This is a slightly modified version of the first half of The Stone Key, originally published by Penguin Books Australia Ltd, Camberwell. Published here by arrangement with Penguin Group (Australia), a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Carmody, Isobelle.
Wavesong / by Isobelle Carmody.—1st American ed.
p. cm.—(Obernewtyn Chronicles; bk. 5)
Summary: Elspeth and the other Misfits successfully defend the Land against a Herder invasion, and in the process manage to take over Herder Island.
eISBN: 978-0-375-89241-7
[1. Orphans—Fiction. 2. Human-animal communication—Fiction. 3. Extrasensory perception—Fiction. 4. Science fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.C2176Wav 2008 [Fic]—dc22 2008025177
Map design by Cathy Larsen
Title page photo dolphin image copyright © Swift/Vanuga
Images/Corbis
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Isobelle Carmody, Wavesong
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