Free Sleeping Beauty's Daughters by Diane Zahler

the distance, and then shook his head slowly. “I think not,” he replied in a worried tone. “I believe it’s a storm cloud—though I’ve never seen one like it.”
    Storm clouds often shrouded our castle on the cliffs, but they didn’t look like this. The cloud seemed to mount to the very heavens, and lightning flashed deep within its purplish billows. It moved toward us with astonishing speed. A great howling wind came before it, catching Symon unprepared. It propelled us backward so quickly that we nearly overturned, the boat heeling until waves splashed over the side.
    “Strike sail!” Symon cried. I had no idea what the command meant, though, and the wind was too strong for me to respond even if I had known. Ripping free of the mast, the sail flew off like a huge white kite. The boom swung around violently, just missing me as I ducked. Then we were at the wind’s mercy.
    “Row!” shouted Symon, straining at the tiller. There were long wooden oars on each side of the boat. I grabbed for the starboard oar near me and tried to work it through the water, while Luna did the same on the other side. The oars were useless, though, against the power of that wind.
    Thunder cracked, and lightning played in the dark cloud that now hung directly above us. Rain began to fall, pounding down so hard it actually hurt. We were soaked to the skin in an instant. The waves were enormous, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. The Cateline quickly began to fill with water from both above and below.
    “Bail!” Symon yelled. I could barely hear him now over the howl of the gale. I dropped my useless oar and found a wooden bucket beneath the seat. Though I worked as fast as I could, I was nearly blinded by the raging storm. I couldn’t begin to keep up with the water that poured into the boat.
    The batteau climbed each wave and then rushed into its trough, leaving our stomachs at the top as the next wave rose up behind us. Symon had managed to turn the boat around, so we were hurtling back toward land. We sped up and down the mountainous waves as if in a race for our very lives. The violent movement made me as seasick as Luna had been, but I was so frantic to bail that I would not give in to my queasiness.
    By the time the shore came into view, the boat was filled with water and we were riding very low. My arms trembled with exhaustion, but I kept bailing and saw that Luna had found another bucket and was doing the same. It was clear that we were not approaching the strand where we had stayed the night; I could see the red-tiled roofs of many buildings as we swiftly drew closer. We were speeding straight into the harbor of Vittray, its waters dotted with anchored trading ships.
    The ships’ crews stood on the decks and watched in astonishment as we whipped past them. Their open mouths and pointing hands were a blur to me. With the gale at our backs, we sped through the harbor as if hurled by an unseen hand. Symon struggled with the tiller, and somehow we avoided the vessels, big and small, rocking on their tethers.
    On we raced, using the oars to try to keep us from colliding with one boat and then another. Then I saw the great pier of Vittray, which stuck out a hundred yards into the harbor. It seemed that we would surely hit it—we must hit it!—but I had forgotten how very small the batteau was, and how low it rode. Instead, as we whooshed under the pier, the mast struck it and broke off with a great crack . And with one last thrust, the wind heaved the Cateline onto the sandy beach beneath the pier. The sudden stop flung all three of us—Captain, First Mate, and Deckhand—out of the boat and into a sodden heap on the shore.

9
    Of a Refuge and a Route
    L anding on the hard sand knocked the air right out of me. There was a horrible moment when I couldn’t breathe and was sure I never would breathe again, and then a sudden, painful gasp as I inhaled. As soon as my lungs filled, I spat out a mouthful of sand.
    I heard Luna