Elements: Acquiesce

By Kathryn Andrews

ELEMENTS - ACQUIESCE is the first book from a new YA fantasy series by Kathryn Andrews.

Blurb:

After a storm obliterates their boat on the remote west coast of Ireland, Cordelia awakes in a cave system beneath a lighthouse - a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathryn Andrews Books Limited
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781916380431

Kathryn Andrews

Kathryn Andrews graduated from The University of Winchester (formerly King Alfred's College) in 2002 with a BAED HONS Degree with QTS and Art. She teaches primary school children and lives in Hampshire, England. Elements: Acquiesce is her debut YA novel. Find out more by visiting her official website at kandrewsbooks.com

Book preview

ONE

THE STORM

A re you warm enough? asked Flynn, rubbing his arms.

Cordelia nodded. She was reading Jane Eyre by Currer Bell and hadn’t lifted her eyes from the pages for at least an hour.

I hope I’m not coming down with something, said Flynn, pulling on an extra jumper.

Flynn stepped outside the cabin and surveyed his surroundings. All seemed quiet, the sea was calmer than usual but the air was cold; bitterly cold. Flynn couldn’t shake it from his mind that something wasn’t right.

It’s freezing out there, he said, rubbing his hands.

Cordelia was still engrossed in her book.

Can you put the book down for five minutes while we eat? asked Flynn.

Cordelia folded the corner of the page and joined Flynn for supper.

How’s the book?

Good, nodded Cordelia, finishing a bite of food. I think I’m like Jane, in a way. She’s an orphan too, although she gets sent away to school. You wouldn’t send me away, would you?

No chance. There’s no schools around here for girls.

I still don’t understand why you won’t take me to the islands. I’m not a child.

You’re not an adult either. I’ve told you, it’s too dangerous.

Cordelia felt her chest tighten and she began to breathe uneasy as blood simmered beneath her fair skin.

When they’d finished eating, Cordelia washed the dishes in silence and returned to her book. Flynn kept watch on the weather, walking in and out with his hurricane lamp.

You won’t warm up if you keep going outside, said Cordelia, breaking the silence.

Eventually, Flynn decided to settle in for the night. Will you make an old man happy and join me for a card game?

Cordelia huffed. Can I choose the game?

Deal.

Flynn and Cordelia spent the next few hours playing Old Maid, laughing and joking together.

I knew you wouldn’t stay grumpy for long, said Flynn.

This doesn’t change anything. I still want to go.

I said no.

I’ve a right to know where I’m from.

And I’ve told you. I don’t want to hear any more about it.

You’re not my father. You can’t tell me what to do.

I’ve raised you as my own.

The cold, winter wind began to howl.

Did you hear that? asked Flynn, standing to look outside.

Cordelia nodded as the boat gently rocked.

Looks like we’re in for a bumpy night, said Flynn.

He checked his pocket watch, it was eight thirty. By nine o’clock rain had started to lash against the windows.

It’s probably time you went to bed, said Flynn, we’ve an early start tomorrow.

Cordelia changed into her nightgown under the bed covers while Flynn stayed up to keep an eye on the storm. With every passing hour the wind blew stronger and fork lightning illuminated the darkness. Flynn realised this was no ordinary storm and he tried with all his might to get the boat to shore but the power of the ocean was too strong. Unable to sleep, Cordelia stumbled out of bed and staggered unsteadily to join Flynn.

Let me help you, she shouted over the crashing waves.

It’s no use, said Flynn, the storm’s too strong!

They watched with great anguish as rocks were torn from the cliffs and the roofs of nearby houses were tossed into the sea. The sight of it made the hairs on the back of their necks stand on end. One by one the houses were plunged into darkness. Flynn locked the cabin door, extinguished the gas lamps and held Cordelia tightly as they huddled together on the floor.

Are we going to die? asked Cordelia, her breathing heavy.

You’ll be grand, said Flynn and he held her tighter.

The anchor kept the boat from striking the Duggerna rocks but the ferocious Atlantic Ocean was cruel and it threw the wooden boat between the waves as far as the chain would allow, until midnight when a wave broke so violently over the boat, it disappeared beneath the waves, rising a short while later only to be battered by another great breaker which shattered the boat into a thousand pieces and buried it in a valley of foam.

Flynn fought to cling on to Cordelia as they were cast into the freezing water but she was ripped from his grasp, their stretched out fingers torn away from each other. The water was painfully cold and spears of ice seared through Flynn’s body. As he tried to reach the surface, larger waves continued to roll in above him, putting his next breath at a greater distance. No matter how hard he kicked, it seemed he was never coming up for air. Terrified, Flynn closed his eyes and tumbled head over heels beneath the waves. Cordelia sank further, far down to the bottom of the ocean. Still as a statue, her cold, delicate body nestled amongst the black rocks which stretched across the seabed at the mouth of the bay; the town’s saving grace from total destruction. There she rested, suspended in the water like an angel floating in the sky. Her silver hair swayed gently with the calm current, a striking contrast to the powerful energy above her. Little did she know that her life was soon to change and everything she thought she knew about the ocean would be turned on its head.

Cordelia awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar bed, much more comfortable than she had been used to on the boat. Her eyes traced the contours of her surroundings, which glowed in the candlelight. Stalactites clung from the ceiling and drops of water glistened as they trickled down the walls. Cordelia slowly swung her legs round and sat on the edge of the bed. She was wearing a nightgown but it wasn’t hers. Her bare foot touched something cold under the bed. She reached down and pulled out a porcelain chamber pot, then quickly pushed it back again. Cordelia’s eyes continued to survey the room. Her own nightgown and some of her clothes were draped over a wooden chair next to a small fire and beside it was a wooden barrel. Before she’d had a chance to consider what time of day it might be there came a knock at the door. Unsure of who or what to expect, Cordelia stayed on the bed and pulled the covers around her. The knock came again.

Cordelia, said a reassuring voice.

The door opened ever so slightly and a friendly face emerged.

My name’s Mazu. May I come in?

Cordelia nodded cautiously.

I’ve brought you soda bread and water.

Mazu was a water goddess and protector of sailors who, when she wasn’t attending to urgent, top secret matters such as this, preferred to spend her time in the warmer waters of the Indian Ocean where she enjoyed collecting precious gem stones from the seabed. Coming from such an exotic climate, Mazu’s skin was a perfect golden-brown and she had long dark hair which she normally wore in a fancy up do to match her impeccable dress sense.

Where’s Flynn? asked Cordelia.

Mazu paused. I’m sorry, we never found him.

Cordelia stared at Mazu, not wanting to believe what she was hearing. You rescued my clothes but not Flynn?

Mazu struggled to respond.

Where are we? asked Cordelia.

We’re in the caves beneath the lighthouse.

Cordelia knew of the lighthouse but she didn’t know there were caves beneath it, certainly not caves that people lived in.

I have to find him, said Cordelia, fetching her clothes from beside the fire.

I’ll come with you.

Mazu waited outside Cordelia’s chamber while she dressed, then Cordelia opened the door and stepped into a narrow, candle lit tunnel. The walls were wet and the air was damp.

Which way? she asked.

Follow me.

Mazu led Cordelia through a maze of tunnels below the lighthouse, all the while walking uphill. Cordelia didn’t see anyone else. They came to a door that led to a spiral staircase and climbed part way to another door. Cordelia could see daylight seeping through. Mazu unlocked the door with a large brass key and they stepped outside. Through squinted eyes Cordelia counted twelve beautiful white horses grazing on the grass beside the lighthouse. It felt surreal, like an enchanted scene from a fairytale. Cordelia was confused about the whole thing but she had more important questions.

Where did you find me? Flynn must be nearby.

He could be anywhere Cordelia. We’ll head towards the beach and search along the coast as we go.

Cordelia studied Mazu with curiosity. How do you know my name?

It’s understandable that you have a lot of questions, said Mazu. Right now we need to find Flynn.

Cordelia and Mazu walked briskly to a secluded cove where a small rowing boat sat waiting. They rowed close to the rocks, looking in every crevice, calling his name. There were portions of wreck all over the place but no sign of Flynn. Cordelia could feel a sickening, wrenching feeling in her stomach; she could not imagine life without Flynn.

Perhaps he made it to the beach, said Cordelia. He’s probably been looking all over for me.

As they rowed closer to the bay, they could see the town folk clearing the mess. Cordelia’s eyes glazed over as she recognised pieces of their boat scattered across the beach. Stepping out of the rowing boat, Cordelia noticed someone making off with fishing baskets.

Hey! she shouted. Stop!

There were people everywhere and the culprit ran off before she could stop him.

He took our baskets! exclaimed Cordelia.

Mazu put her arms around the young girl. It’s okay. We’ve more important things to worry about.

Mazu and Cordelia searched all along the beach, upturning pieces of wood and thatch from the roofs, asking everyone they saw if they’d seen him, looking to see if Flynn was walking the beach in search of Cordelia, but nothing. Then Mazu saw someone she recognised from years before; an odd looking fellow, extremely short in height with a very long, crooked nose, freckles and red hair that poked out from underneath his flat cap. He wore his trousers tucked into a pair of old grey socks and his bicycle, which had clearly seen better days, was propped against the sea wall. He still dressed the same and still smelt of ale, he just had a few more wrinkles now.

Mornin’, he said.

Hello Jerry, my good man, you haven’t seen Flynn have you? asked Mazu.

With bated breath, Cordelia waited for a response.

Jerry lowered his head, removed his cap and held it to his chest. Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve been here since sunrise and there’s been no sign.

Jerry had gotten to know Flynn well over the years through their business arrangement. Flynn would catch the fish and Jerry would sell it on the promenade. Expecting the worst and not knowing what else to say, Jerry was relieved when he was called away to help move some debris. Cordelia stood on the sand, her arms by her sides, her face filled with panic. Cordelia’s eyes burned as she tried to fight back the tears but it was no use, the tears flowed from her eyes like a waterfall and she fell to her knees. The pain in her chest was unbearable; like a giant hand was squeezing her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. As she gasped for air, Cordelia’s world felt empty. Mazu knelt on the sand and held Cordelia as she let out a single shriek. As her tears fell, they turned to aquamarine.

What’s happening? asked Cordelia.

I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you, said Mazu, who had long thought about the moment when she would tell Cordelia what she was.

It was all too much for Cordelia to take in. She felt numb and before Mazu had a chance to explain, Cordelia passed out.

Six days passed and Cordelia had not spoken to anyone. There’d been no news about Flynn and she wondered how it was that people were carrying on with their lives when he was not there. Didn’t they know he was missing? Didn’t they know he was gone? Mazu left food and water by her door daily but Cordelia only managed the water. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t carry on as normal. She felt guilty at the thought of living her life if Flynn was not living his. He was the only person she’d ever known. He was her world.

TWO

FLYNN

It was 1837, the year Queen Victoria began her reign over Great Britain and Ireland. During this time, Kilfearagh was home to a fisherman named Flynn. He was a solitary man whose heart was broken two years earlier when he lost his wife during childbirth. He sold their home and used the money to buy his own boat upon which he lived. Flynn was rugged and strong with brown, windswept hair and stubble upon his face. He wasn’t like the men in town; they grew hair all over their faces in one way or another; fancy side burns, beards and mustaches. It was said to be highly fashionable but Flynn wasn’t bothered by such trivialities. He loved the ocean and forever-changing seascape and above all, he enjoyed the peace and quiet, only mingling with the town folk when he delivered his latest catch to shore.

On a fine day in May, Flynn was fishing between two mysterious islands on the Loop Head Peninsula, known by locals as Bishop’s Island and Slate Island. Bishop’s Island rose majestically out of the ocean, its sheer sides frightfully steep. An ancient church sat silently on its flat, grassy top where ascetic monks once enjoyed the remoteness. This mighty sea stack was impossible for the town folk to reach since it had separated from the mainland a thousand years before; only sea birds could reach it safely now. Slate Island was similar but with a terrifyingly smooth slope to one side and nothing to grapple onto if you slipped. The islands were feared by many because of the vast numbers who had perished in the waters there. More than a year had passed since the Intrinsic, a ship from Liverpool bound for New Orleans was battered in a storm near Bishop’s Island and sank along with her crew, but still, the fishermen stayed away. The water had become too deep and dangerous for their little currachs. Some claimed they’d seen sea monsters there but Flynn refused to believe in such myths. He knew the sea could become treacherous around the islands without warning but being a skilled sailor, as his father before him and owning a sturdier boat, Flynn decided to take his chances for he knew this is where he’d find the best catch.

The water was reassuringly calm as Flynn cast his net into the sea. He lay on his back gazing at the cloudless sky, waiting for his net to fill. For a man who had once been so broken, it was now moments like this that he lived for; the warm sun upon his face, the gentle breeze in his hair and the peacefulness. He closed his eyes and reminisced of times gone by. As a boy he’d lived with his parents in one of the thatched cottages overlooking the bay. He used to swim in the ocean and play hide and seek in the sand dunes that separated the small, quiet town from the sea, but now things were different. The paddle steamer service was bringing much tourism from Limerick and the aristocrats fell in love with the place, which resulted in a building boom. This, partly, is what led Flynn to sell his home; a salt lodge by the sea made the perfect holiday home for an upper class family from Limerick and since everyone he’d ever loved were no longer with him, he decided it was time to move on. Flynn had watched the town change from a distance; the population had almost trebled since he was a young lad and the sand dunes that he used to run so freely amongst were being replaced with a stone wall and promenade.

All of a sudden, the sun was no longer warming Flynn’s face and he opened his eyes to see a storm brewing; dark clouds rolled in from all directions as loud thunder rumbled and heavy rain lashed down. The wooden boat creaked as it rocked to and fro, rose up on the waves and smacked down on the ocean with a judder. Flynn was tossed around like a rag doll and clung with all his might to the edge of the boat. A gust of wind unexpectedly and violently swung the boom, striking the fisherman on the head. He fell backwards onto the deck as lightning struck the top of Bishop’s Island.

With blood streaming down his face, Flynn scrambled to the back of the boat to pull his fish filled net to the surface. He hauled his catch onto the deck before frantically raising the anchor and turning the boat towards the sanctuary of the bay. Flynn hadn’t noticed the large egg caught inside his net. As he approached the mouth of the bay, the waves were reaching the cliff top at George’s Head. In all his years, he’d never seen waves as big as these. The sea was white with foam and it took all his strength to keep the boat away from the perilous black rocks that lay beneath the surface. The motion of the boat caused the egg to crack and the fragments of shell were washed into the sea. The mighty waves carried the fishing boat all the way to the seaweed-strewn beach where Flynn washed the blood from his face and returned to his cabin where he sheltered until the storm passed.

When the sky had cleared and the sea was calm again, Flynn returned to the deck of the boat. He was shocked to find a baby lying quietly amongst the fish, looking back at him with nothing more than a tuft of silver grey hair upon her head. He looked around the boat to see if anyone was there but there was nobody.

How the blazes did a baby get on my boat? he said to himself.

Bewildered, Flynn wrapped the baby in a blanket and carried her in his arms to the promenade. He asked the town folk if they knew of any missing boats or shipwrecks that day which might explain why he’d found a baby lost at sea. He wanted desperately to reunite the child with her family and walked the streets speaking to everyone he met, but nobody claimed the child. The weary fisherman bought a few supplies in town, including clothes for the baby before heading back to his boat. He placed the child in a basket made of willow branches and watched her as she slept. Flynn vowed to find her family but days turned into weeks and still there was not a whisper from anyone, not in town at least.

While the people of Kilfearagh were busy getting on with their daily lives, members of a secret sea community were frantically looking for the infant. Triton Morgan, messenger of the sea circle, son of the famous Triton and grandson of the legendary Poseidon was swimming the seven seas in search of the infant. Triton was half man, half fish with a muscular upper body, a strong tail and green hair. Rumours that an egg had fallen into the sea and mysteriously vanished were circulating the seabed. Triton Morgan knew more than anyone that this was no ordinary egg. He’d heard about the egg from Mazu and he was determined to find it, or indeed the creature inside but wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. His vague questions had some members of the sea community doubting his sanity but Triton and Mazu knew there was a lot at stake.

When they’d searched every inch of the seabed they made their way to the surface and began their search on land. Dressed head to toe in their Victorian finery and Triton’s green hair tucked neatly under his top hat, the pair were ready to mingle with polite society. They wandered through town, watching, listening, certain that someone must know something. The well to do people from Limerick had been in town for weeks already for their summer holidays and they were strolling along the promenade in their best clothes, men in their top hats and ladies in long dresses under which they wore layer upon layer of undergarments which made their bottoms look bigger.

It was almost midday when Triton and Mazu stopped and chatted to a man named Jerry who was selling seafood from a basket on the promenade.

Top o’ the mornin’ to you, he said with a smile, craning his neck to get a better view of Triton who towered above him.

How do you do? replied Triton.

I’m very well, thank you Sir. It’s a beautiful day isn’t it?

Indeed.

Mazu stood back a little and held a handkerchief to her nose, not because of the fishy smell, which she was well used to, but because the man had a strong odor of ale about him.

What can I get you? asked Jerry. Lobster? Crab? Crawfish? All caught fresh this mornin’.

We’re looking for something else, said Triton. Something...

Cooked periwinkles? You won’t find better anywhere else. Caught ‘em in the shoreline this mornin’.

No, not periwinkles.

Jerry scratched his head. Is it seaweed you’re after? The poppin’ kind? Some people use it for medicine.

A shell. It’s a shell we’re looking for, said Mazu.

An egg shell, said Triton. A large egg shell.

Jerry paused and a look of puzzlement grew upon his face as he slowly shook his head. No. No eggshells. Have you tried the farm down the road? They have hens.

It’s not a chicken egg we’re looking for, said Mazu impatiently.

Did you ever find anything unusual amongst the fish? asked Triton.

The odd shoe here and there. We once found a white shark washed up on the beach. ‘Twas the talk of the town for months. Jerry scratched his head. Come to think of it, young Flynn found a baby in his net a few weeks ago. I suppose that was a bit odd. That’s who you want to be askin’. He’s the one I get most of these fish from. No idea how she got there. Never did find her parents.

Triton and Mazu’s eyes widened.

Sounds fascinating, said Triton.

You’ve been most helpful, said Mazu.

I don’t suppose you could tell us where we might find Flynn? asked Triton.

Jerry pointed to a wooden boat docked at the pier and without hesitation, Triton and Mazu made their way along the promenade towards the boat.

Good day to you! called Jerry.

Walking towards the pier they could see a man and a young infant sitting on the deck in the sunshine.

It has to be the child, said Mazu. She must be the one.

What exactly are we looking for? whispered Triton, stopping to peer through a pair of binoculars.

It’s hard to say, replied Mazu. Something different I suppose.

I’d say her hair’s fairly different from other girls her age.

What’s her hair got to do with it?! snapped Mazu, snatching the binoculars. When did the colour of someone’s hair make them dangerous? Look at your hair. Bright green! People would die from fright just looking at the colour of your hair.

Triton adjusted his hat to make sure there were no loose strands on show. Aside from the hair she seems quite normal looking to me. A pretty little thing.

But what is she? Is she one of them or one of us?

Only one way to find out.

Wait! ordered Mazu. What if she’s one of them? What do we do?

Triton was already striding along the pier with his cane and as he got closer he heard Flynn talking to the child.

I suppose we’ll give you a name will we? he said, holding her in his arms. I think Cordelia would suit you. The child’s piercing blue eyes gazed back at him and she smiled. That’s it, he continued, we’ll call you Cordelia, daughter of the sea. Then he placed a delicate necklace around her neck with a single pearl that had belonged to his wife.

Triton paused.

Well? asked Mazu, What should we do?

Nothing. Not yet. He turned on his heel and walked away, followed closely by Mazu.

Nothing? asked Mazu. Do you think she’s the one?

I’m certain of it.

And you want to do nothing?

Are you ready to raise a child Mazu? She has someone to take care of her and we don’t know enough about her so we’ll wait.

How do we know she won’t kill him?

We don’t. Only time will tell.

As time passed, Cordelia grew into the most beautiful child Flynn had ever seen and all the while, Triton and Mazu watched closely. She looked like an angel and her silver grey hair always shimmered in the moonlight. Of course, Flynn thought it unusual for a child to have grey hair but it suited her and there was nothing he could do about it so he let it be. He’d taught Cordelia how to swim from a young age, which she loved. She swam with such grace and it didn’t matter what time of year it was, Cordelia was in the sea every day; unlike Flynn, she didn’t seem to feel the cold. Since there was no school for girls in Kilfearagh at that time, Cordelia spent her days helping Flynn on the boat, clambering across the rocks and exploring caves and in the evenings he’d teach her how to read, write and pray. Though Flynn