Free Reunion by Kara Dalkey

grimly. “Before dawn.”
    â€œSo we have—”
    â€œOnly six days, really,” Corwin finished for her.
    â€œYes.”
    The cottage door banged open again and Corwin jumped up, startled. He gently helped Nia stand up.
    â€œHere you are,” the old man said, holding out two tattered and patched woolen cloaks.
    Corwin took the dark blue one and Nia took the other, a brown one. As Henwyneb had promised, they both had hoods. Corwin put his cloak on, shivering as sunset quickly faded into dusk. He helped Nia with the unfamiliar garment, careful to position the hood so that it completely hid her gills and hair.
    He jumped again as a scream rent the air—a scream like a chorus of imps and demons crying out from hell.
    â€œDear God,” Henwyneb whispered. “What is that?”
    â€œThe kraken,” Corwin answered, his blood turning cold.

Chapter Five
    â€œIs this the serpent from the waves that you saw this morning?” Henwyneb asked.
    Corwin nodded and swallowed hard. “Yes,” he replied.
    â€œThen you must go, and hurry! Farewell!”
    Corwin took Nia’s arm. “Get inside, Henwyneb. You don’t want to be that snake’s supper.” Corwin began to walk as fast as his ill and tired body would let him, his hand firmly on Nia’s elbow to help her keep up.
    But after a few steps, she shook his hand off her arm. “I’m strong enough,” she said. “I’m used to dry rooms. I was the best at dry-landing in my school.”
    â€œWhat is a, um . . . never mind. Listen, do you know what the creature that made that scream is?”
    Nia stopped. “Show me.” She touched his forehead and then her own.
    Corwin leaned down and rested his forehead against hers a moment, remembering vividly the scarlet serpent coiling out of the sea, forming huge eyes and a mouth and lunging straight for him.
    â€œI’ve heard stories of such things,” she said at last. “Only the most powerful of Avatars can summon and control the small life of the sea this way. Or an entire council . . .” She paused. “I don’t think your blind friend is in danger. I think this thing is only coming for us.”
    â€œThat’s not very comforting,” Corwin muttered. “You sure are full of bad news. You didn’t have Fenwyck to teach you to only say nice things.”
    â€œWhat is . . . Fenwik?”
    â€œNever mind. That’s my long story. We should hurry.” Corwin was grateful, at least, that the constant disorientation and nagging questioning from the prince-other-mind had quieted down. He couldn’t tell if the uneasiness and fear that filled him were entirely his own, or if those feelings also belonged to the Farworlder, or maybe even to Nia. Fenwyck may have tried to tell me what to think, but he never actually forced his thoughts into my head. If this keeps up, I won’t know who I am anymore. And that’s almost as good as being dead.
    â€œWhere are we going?” Nia asked as the path connected back to the rutted road.
    â€œWe’re going to—” Corwin was about to say, “my cave,” but then he realized that the grotto that had sheltered him these past several weeks was even closer to the sea, and therefore now too dangerous a haven. He looked down the road. The way opposite from the sea headed straight into Carmarthen town.
    Nia studied him, clearly catching his thoughts. “It may help if we’re among others,” she said. “It will make us harder to find.”
    Corwin racked his brain to try to think of some relatively safe place. All he could think of was the Toad & Ferret, a rather disreputable tavern with rooms upstairs for renting. The inn was owned by an old friend, if you could call him that, of Fenwyck’s by the name of Anwir. No one there was likely to have any love of the royal guards, either.
    â€œI see a place in your mind