Free Unwritten Books 2 - Fathom Five by James Bow

Rosemary!” His voice echoed.
    Fiona touched his brow and caught him as he went limp in her arms. She sat him down in the shallow water. “Rest,” she whispered. She cupped her hand into the lake and brought the water to his lips. “Drink.”
    Peter swallowed the sweet water. It settled into his chest like a cool pebble. His ragged breathing eased. Tension slipped from his shoulders along with the fears from his mind.
    Fiona smiled. “Yes.”
    Peter let out the breath he was holding. “Where am I?” he whispered.
    “Home. Look.” She helped him back to his feet.
    Peter opened his eyes, then closed them immediately as the world swam around him. Fiona held him steady until he was ready to look again.
    He stood knee deep in water a few feet from shore.
    The breeze blew at his back, warm as a hair dryer. A line of cliffs rose around them, topped by trees of green, red, and gold. A line of flowerpot islands — small columns of stone — stretched out into the bay.
    As his gaze reached the sky, he frowned. There were no clouds. No sun or stars, either. The dome above was a smooth aquamarine. “That can’t be right,” he muttered. The cliffs were no different from those around Clarksbury. Even the water tasted the same, and yet … where was he?
    And how did he get here?
    Fiona pressed his back, gently. “Can you walk?”
    He swallowed. “Yeah.” They splashed ashore. Peter stood dripping. Fiona looked dry. They stood a moment, staring at each other. Fiona smiled at him. Her hair fluttered in the breeze. The waves slapped the shore. Finally, Peter broke the silence. “So … where do we go now?”
    “I told you,” said Fiona, kindly. “Home.”
    “How do we get there?”
    “We follow that girl.” Fiona pointed. Peter looked. Behind him, on the top of one of a boulder that stood at the water’s edge, sat a young girl, no more than nine. She had brown curls, wore green robes, and sat facing the bay, knees hugged to her chest.
    “Ariel!” Fiona called, and the girl perked up. She looked at them and, at the sight of Fiona, squealed and scrambled down the face of the rock. She ran into Fiona’s arms. “Fionarra! You’re back!”
    Fiona embraced her. “Ariel.”
    Peter frowned at her. “Fionarra?”
    She smiled ruefully. “You may call me Fiona.”
    Ariel squirmed free of Fiona’s embrace and turned to Peter. She stopped when she looked up at him. She swallowed. “Is this … him?”
    “Yes, Ariel, this is Peter.”
    Peter shifted under Ariel’s gaze of awe. The stones clicked beneath his feet. “Er … hi!”
    Ariel squeaked and ducked behind Fiona. Peter blushed.
    Fiona stepped aside and pushed Ariel into the open.
    “Don’t be shy. You’ve so wanted to meet Peter.”
    Peter swallowed hard. “Hi,” he said again.
    “Hello,” said the girl.
    The waves lapped the beach. Peter and Ariel stared at each other, unsure what to say. He’d never seen her before, he was sure, but there was something familiar about that round face, the brown hair, and the wide brown eyes.
    Then Fiona pushed them forward. “Come, you two. The village awaits.”
    Peter felt his stomach drop. “Village?”
    “And your family,” said Fiona.
    Family. The word knotted his stomach. This place was at once familiar and not familiar. The shape of the bay, Ariel. His future filled him with hope and dread. It pressed at him like the water and song. He kept himself from taking Fiona’s hand, and followed her.
    As they walked, Ariel forgot her shyness. She bounded ahead and back, chattering. Her curls bobbed as she bombarded him with questions.
    “Did you live in a house back where you were?” asked Ariel. “With electricity?”
    “Um … yeah.” Peter gave Fiona a look, but she just smiled.
    “And cars? Did you have a car?”
    “Uh … yes.”
    “Were you lonely?”
    Peter blinked at her and glanced at Fiona.
    Ariel went squealing after some sandpipers and Peter couldn’t help but grin. “Is she your sister?”
    Fiona