“How long have I been sleeping?”
Endric glanced at the sky. “Most of the day.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “Must be the rocking of the waves.”
She reached for the oar and he handed it over gladly, flexing his fingers to try to work blood back into them. They were stiff and sore and felt as if they were cramped in the position they’d been in the entire day.
Senda began paddling with the same sort of force that Endric had used when he had first started, and Endric smiled. Let her tire herself out as he had. At least she’d had the opportunity to sleep, so he hoped she wouldn’t drift off nearly as often as he had, leaving her jerking awake.
“You should sleep,” Senda said.
“I’d like to just relax,” he said. “I’ve drifted a little throughout the day.”
“The rocking of the waves?” she asked with a smile.
Endric shrugged. “At least these waves are soothing, nothing like when we were on the captain’s ship.”
In the darkness, her face paled. “That was… unexpected. I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced anything quite like that.”
“I won’t tell.”
“If you do, I’ll tell about all the times you were too drunk to serve on patrol and still did.”
Endric smiled. “I’m not sure that’s all that much of a secret.”
Senda shrugged, rowing again. “Probably not.”
Endric leaned back and looked out at the sea. In the darkness, the moon and stars glittered off the water, casting streaks of color, barely enough to see by. The shore was a smear of darkness and he feared they would lose control of the dinghy and go crashing into it.
“How far do you think we need to go?” he asked Senda after a while.
“If we were somewhere in the middle of Salvat, reaching one of the ports will take a while. It’s probably better we go by sea than over land, but I wonder how long we would’ve traveled before finding a village.”
Possibly days. Maybe longer. Endric had no idea about the scope of Salvat other than the island was enormous. He hadn’t expected the volcano to be quite like what he’d found here and certainly hadn’t expected to find it so barren.
They fell into a comfortable silence—the most comfortable in a long time. Senda continued working the oar and Endric tried resting, but he’d had enough brief rest in the time he was rowing that he wasn’t as tired as he thought he should be.
Instead, he was troubled. Where had Urik gone? Where had he taken Tresten? What did he think to do with a dead Mage? Even if Tresten wasn’t dead—and Endric still wasn’t certain how that was possible—he didn’t know what Urik would be able to do with him.
Lights began to come into focus in the distance, and Endric pointed.
“Where do you think that is?” he asked.
“Maybe Elaniin?” Senda said, twisting so she could look. They drifted, the current stronger now, pulling them away from the shore but not so far that they couldn’t see it in the distance. Every so often, waves would crest near them and Endric would sit up, feeling a surge of alertness. He didn’t care for the idea of capsizing out on the sea and trying to right their small boat, and he really didn’t like the idea of trying to outswim some sea creature. He knew they were probably his imagination, but that didn’t change anything.
“Elaniin should be large enough to get us transportation back to Gomald.” And from there, they could travel anywhere. If he went back to Gomald, Senda would ensure that he went back to Vasha, too. He wasn’t opposed to returning to Vasha, but going back made it feel as if he were serving something less than if he tried to help the Conclave. At least with the Conclave, there was a greater sense of the world and of how he could serve. Even Urik had felt it. The Conclave had been the reason he had been willing to change.
The longer they went, the more he drifted, until a massive wave struck the dinghy.
Endric sat up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He had thought that he wasn’t tired, but perhaps he was sleepier than he had realized. Senda smiled at him. “It’s okay for you to sleep. You stayed awake for me.”
“I already told you that I slept some of the time.”
She laughed lightly. “But not enough. Don’t push this, Endric.”
“Is that an order?”
“Do you want it to be?” There was a playfulness to the question that had not been there in quite some time. Endric smiled, thankful that if nothing else, there was a chance that he and Senda might reconnect. When they had first set off, he had not believed that there would be any chance of that.
“I want—”
Another wave struck the boat and Endric was soaked.
No. Not soaked. He was in the water.
He swept his arms, trying to keep afloat, but something seemed to be pulling him down.
Endric kicked, keeping his mind calm, but submersion in the water left him panicked in a way that facing even the groeliin had not. Despite his struggles, he continued to go under.
He kicked again, trying to reach the surface. Water filled his mouth and nose, and he tasted the salt of the sea.
Was that something around his ankles?
It was only his imagination. He knew it was nothing more than that but couldn’t shake the panic that had set in.
Down he went, deeper and deeper into the darkness of the sea. It seemed almost as if the sea itself tried to suck him deeper in, and as he fought, trying to stay afloat, trying to get back above water, he went deeper and deeper.
He started to lose consciousness.
His mind rebelled.
He couldn’t allow himself to pass out. If he did, he couldn’t fight, and there would be no recovery.
Endric struggled, kicking again. It was useless. Each kick did nothing. He beat at the water with his arms, but they brought him no closer to the surface.
Involuntarily, he tried to take a breath.
Water filled his lungs.
He continued to sink, trying to maintain alertness, but the longer he drifted and the farther he went beneath the surface, the less it was possible. His mind started to cloud and though he kicked, each came with less strength than the one before. A distant part of his mind warned him that he needed to fight and he needed to struggle and if he did not, he would die, but he couldn’t respond to that part of his mind. His body seemed to ignore him, and his muscles cramped.
And then he felt something grabbing his arm.
Endric used the last bit of energy that he possessed to try and struggle against whatever it was, but he didn’t have enough remaining strength.
He was moved. Did he go up, toward the surface, or was he still dragged down, below the waves?
He could no longer tell the difference.
His mind was nothing more than a cloud. Thoughts became foggy and slow.
And then he crested the surface of the water.
Endric sucked in a deep breath, straining for air.
He felt something on him and didn’t have the strength to resist.
“Come on,” he heard.
Senda. Somehow, she had managed to save him. That didn’t surprise him. If anyone would be strong enough to swim deep below the surface to rescue him, it would be her. She was the strongest person he had ever known. Why had he never told her that before? Why did he let the strangeness grow between them? He wanted nothing more than to hold her once more in his arms and to share the closeness they once had known, not this strange distance that had cropped up since her promotion and his return to Vasha. He tried to speak, but his mouth didn’t form the words.
He was thrown toward the dinghy.
Endric rested inside it, trying to get his breath. Each breath he took was painful, and it felt as if his lungs burned with the effort. He gasped for air, struggling to fill his lungs, and waited for Senda to return.
A moment passed, and then another, and still there was no sign of her.
Endric forced his eyes open and looked around. Where was she? Could
she have gotten back into the dinghy and he just didn’t notice? As weakened as he was, that was possible.
“Senda?” he croaked.
There was no response.
Endric looked into the boat and saw no sign of her there. He turned away from the dinghy and toward the sea. Fading sunlight sparkled off the water, casting a shimmering reflection along the waves.
Where was she?
He got to his knees, peering into the water, looking for signs of her. She had to be there somewhere.
“Senda!”
The only change to the water that he noted was a slight turbulence several boat lengths from him. There, the water had a slight churn to it, leaving a hint of white froth along the surface.
Had she saved him only to drown?
Endric stood, balancing inside the dinghy, trying to keep from tipping. He stripped off his sopping clothes and jumped back into the water. Out here, the water was chilly, not nearly as warm as it had been near the shore, and he was tired from his near drowning. He couldn’t let those thoughts dissuade him. Senda needed him to push through that. She needed him to find her.
He dove beneath the surface of the water, trying to see through the darkness. He wasn’t as strong a swimmer as many. Endric could swim, but had never mastered it as others had, and he certainly was not as strong a swimmer as Senda happened to be.
Then he found her.
She was drifting away from him and moving quickly.
Not drifting—pulled.
Was that what had happened to him? Was that why he had seemed as if he couldn’t get his head back above water?
Endric had feared sea creatures, but had feared them in a sort of distant way. He hadn’t believed that there were real sea monsters, but if something was dragging Senda away, and if the same thing had attempted to drag him, what choice did he have but to believe that there was something to fear here?
Endric kicked, swimming as quickly as he could, trying not to think about the fact that the dinghy could drift beyond his reach by the time he managed to get to Senda—if he did manage to get to her. He wouldn’t lose her, not like this.
She had saved him. He owed it to her to do the same.
Whatever was pulling her away slowed.
Endric kicked, using every ounce of strength that he could manage, and grasped for her foot.
He brushed her foot, but it wasn’t enough.
He kicked again, driving himself forward, and managed to get his hand around her ankle.
The water was dark, and he could see almost nothing. The only thing he could see was directly in front of him, and he was thankful that he had a hand on Senda’s foot because if he didn’t, he doubted that he would be able to help her.
He pulled himself along, reaching for her face, and felt something slimy wrapped around her neck. Was it some sort of squid?
Endric pinched the tentacle holding her and the creature withdrew.
He flipped Senda toward the surface and kicked. Something struck his foot. He tried not to think about it as he swam toward the surface, racing toward safety and for air.
When he crested the surface, the dinghy was much farther away than he thought he could reach. Endric tried to ignore the pain and weakness, forcing himself to swim toward it. For Senda’s sake, he needed to.
With each stroke, he felt his arms growing even more tired.
He had to make it.
Fear that the sea monster followed him made him swim even faster. As likely as not, it was probably only a squid, but what if it was something far stranger? Could he risk the chance that it wasn’t a sea monster?
He kicked, nearing the dinghy, trying to ignore the overwhelming panic that threatened him. It served no purpose. He knew that, much as he knew that whatever was out there had likely been scared away.
And then he reached the dinghy.
He tossed Senda into the boat and crawled in after her. Thankfully the oar was still there. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that it might not be, or that it might have drifted away from the boat when he was swimming after Senda. Thankfully, it had not.
Endric sank into the boat, leaning against the railing and breathing heavily. They had survived.
His gaze drifted toward shore and he saw how far they had gone. He would have to row them in, but first he needed to rest.
8
The city was like nothing he’d ever seen. Endric considered himself well-traveled, but the massive fingers stretching into the sea, docks that reached much farther than he’d ever seen before, beckoned them in. Endric pulled on the oar, each stroke bringing them closer to shore. His back was hot and sweat dripped off his brow, pooling in the bottom of the boat. Senda remained motionless.
He cursed himself. He’d feared some strange sea creature, and then one had attacked as if he had summoned it, called it by the gods. From what Endric could tell, Senda had no injuries, but he’d seen men die without any visible wounds. Enough trauma—a significantly strong blow to the head, for example—could kill a man just as easily as having his guts spilled.
“Hold on, Senda,” he said. He’d taken to talking to her, not certain whether it would make a difference but feeling it couldn’t hurt. It might be only his imagination, but Endric believed that she was more at ease when he spoke to her and her breathing seemed more regular. He needed to find a healer quickly, though how was he to do that in a strange city, and with the sense of urgency he felt?
The sun appeared to be reaching its peak and there was no breeze here, nothing that offered any hint of cooler air; only the occasional spray of water off his oar provided any sense of relief. Endric’s mouth was dry and his body throbbed from the effort of rowing for so long. All he wanted was to find a healer. Reach the shore. Get help for Senda. As he watched her, he didn’t know whether it would even make a difference. She hadn’t responded to him since the attack.
The docks stretching out from the shore gradually came closer. How had he managed to get so far away from shore? He had been following the current, trying to keep the shoreline in view, and had been following along it, but gradually, it seemed to have gotten farther away.
No. It was the attack. He had been forced to row away from the shore to save Senda. It had been worth it, but it had nearly taken them too far away from Salvat.
As they neared the island, a few larger ships became visible. Endric scanned them, searching for signs of the captain who had brought them to Salvat, but that ship was nowhere to be seen. Endric would find him, and he would take back the funds his father had given for the transportation. The man had barely waited with the storms.
“Were nearly there,” he said. “Just a little longer, Senda. If you can hold out, I think—”
Her breathing stopped.
Endric threw the oar into the boat and leaned into Senda. He pressed his mouth on hers, blowing air into it, breathing for her.
Why had it come to this for him to be close to her again? Why had it required her nearly dying for him to place his mouth on hers?
He continued breathing, pushing air into her chest, praying with each breath that she would take her own, until finally she managed to take a small gasp of air.
She didn’t awaken, not really, but did manage to take that single breath.
Endric waited, counting the moments until she took another. And then there was another. They were shallow breaths, but she breathed on her own.
He let out a shaky sigh. At least she still lived.
He didn’t know what he would do if she didn’t. How would he ever manage to move past it? And what would his father see if Endric returned to Vasha without the second in command of the Denraen?
Endric rowed more frantically. Each stroke pulled on his muscles but he ignored the pain. For Senda, he needed to ignore any pain. She deserved everything he could give her. She deserved all the strength that he could muster.
As they neared the dock, her breathing stopped again.
Once more, Endric threw the oar into the boat,
unmindful of the fact that they drifted toward another ship. He quickly breathed for Senda once more. After five breaths, she took a shallow breath again. He waited, but another didn’t come. Endric gave her another five breaths, and she started to breathe on her own.
His heart hammered. He was tired, feeling as if he had run a race. For Senda, he couldn’t abandon this race. He couldn’t give in to the fatigue that threatened him. She deserved that much from him.
The small dinghy smacked into a larger ship.
Endric swore to himself and grabbed the oar, quickly pushing off the other ship until he could navigate toward the dock. Sailors on the ship looked down at him, but Endric ignored them. When he reached the dock, he threw a line around a post, lashing the dinghy to it. He scooped Senda in his arms and jumped out.
The dock was enormous. It would take him the same amount of time to reach the shore as it took for him to travel between terraces in Vasha.
Senda stopped breathing again.
He set her down and quickly gave her a few breaths.
When she finally started breathing once more, he scooped her up and ran. He looked for anyone who might seem to know how to help him. Everyone on the dock appeared to be sailors, men who would be unlikely to provide the help she needed. He needed a local, someone who could guide him toward a healer.
What he needed was a Magi, but there would be no Magi in Salvat.
At the end of the dock, he saw street hawker selling breads. Endric skittered to a stop in front of him, panting, holding Senda curled up to him. “A healer. Where could I find a healer?”
The street hawker gave Endric a puzzled expression. “What did you do to her?”
“She fell into the sea. She nearly drowned.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned toward Senda as if listening to her breathing. He sniffed, and his eyes widened. “Not drowned. Cothuln.”
Endric frowned. He didn’t have time to try to find out what that was or what the man meant. “I need a healer. Can you help me?”
“Aria can help,” the man said.
Soldier Scarred Page 6
