The crew desperately tried to turn the boat against the current. Ariana stilled the wind. But it was too late. The ripped and burning sail flapped. Inexorably they were drawn toward the rocks. Ahead of them the water boiled as a great jagged boulder jutted up from the river.
The Riverblossom pulled to the side to avoid it. Smash! The boat hit a submerged rock. The side shattered like kindling. Ariana was thrown to her knees. Feet pounded on the wooden deck as sailors abandoned the doomed ship.
“Jump.” Cerynus pushed Ariana and Jarod to the side of the boat. Arrows hissed into the water as the hapless sailors were picked off in the light of the burning sails. Ariana hesitated.
“Jarod, get her off the boat. I’ll hold them.”
Jarod nodded grimly, grabbing Ariana’s hand, pulling her away. Cerynus shielded their flight. A bright blue force field snapped in place in front of Rhysin’s ship. Suddenly a huge red mass rose from the ship and stabbed the force field. Cerynus fell to his knees. An arrow whizzed by his head.
“Cerynus!”
She wrenched from Jarod’s grasp, arms outstretched to Cerynus. She couldn’t help without touching him and she was too far away. His silver eyes were molten in the night and she could tell the strain was wearing on him.
“Go Ariana! Remember no distractions.” He turned to face the enemy. The blue force field snapped into place again, but weaker.
“Cerynus!”
An arrow sped through the barrier. Cerynus fell to his knees. He looked at her, eyes full of the love he’d never spoken. A puzzled look came over his face as blood bloomed on his chest. The light flickered. Arrows whizzed, thudding into soft flesh. The blue light guttered.
The red flames swept Cerynus into the dark river below. She stared at the spot where Cerynus had been. He was gone.
Jarod caught her around the waist and hauled her toward the side. She fought him.
“No.” She hit at his arms fighting to reach Cerynus.
“You’ve got to save yourself.” He said.
“No! Cerynus!” She wept.
“Did he die for nothing?” His face was wet.
The deck tilted as the ship filled with river. The mast shuddered and started to fall. “Ariana look out!” He threw her over the side, diving into the water behind her. Crash, the mast ripped into the deck and the sad wreck slipped down the rapids.
Bubbles rushed past her gasping lips, cold black water pulling her to the bottom. She fought against the dragging current and pushed her way to the surface. She gasped, the air burning in her lungs, as she broke the surface. Debris was everywhere. Large pieces of wood floated around her. She heard splashes and wounded men groaning. Grimly she tried to keep her head above water. It was so cold. Her feet felt like lumps of ice. Her teeth chattered. There was a dull roar ahead of her. The rapids, she had to keep away from them.
“Jarod.” She called out into the water.
The cold sapped her strength. Numbly she moved her legs holding her arms out to keep afloat. She spied a large piece of charred timber, washed red by flames coming toward her. She grabbed it with frantic hands and lashed herself to it with her belt. The current swept her down the boiling white water of the Dragon’s Teeth.
The weight of the water crushed her chest. Everything went black. Her mouth filled with water. She was drowning. Fragmented thoughts raced through her mind, Jarod’s lips, her mother’s face, chocolate warm in her mouth, the rough feel of a wolf pelt, the pale gleam of Cerynus’ eyes. Curling into a ball she gave herself to the water waiting in that endless second for the end. Blackness hit her like a fist and she knew nothing else.
Chapter Ten
Ariana tried to move her fingers, nothing. She wiggled her toes, no sensation. She felt nothing. Only the rhythmic movement pushing against her sides told her she was alive. Gradually she became aware of pebbles and granules digging into her cheek, embedded in lacerated flesh. Someone was groaning. She wished they’d stop. It was dark here and quiet, except for someone’s labored breathing. Why was it so dark? Long tendrils encircled her throat. She tried to blink; her eyelids were pasted shut. She tried again, forcing what had been effortless.
Her eyes creaked open. Peering out through gummy lids she saw a fuzzy world. The introduction of light overwhelmed her equilibrium. Her body convulsed like a beached fish as she retched. The lurch of vomiting threw her a few inches further onto the bank. Instinctively she scrabbled with ragged nails to keep from falling back into the river. Exhausted by the effort she put her head back down on the coarse sand.
She lifted her head. A sharp pain speared her, bringing tears to her eyes, clearing the encrusted lashes. It also cleared away the confusion. She was still half in the water. She had to get onshore. Her legs were numb and useless. Grimly she dragged herself up the sandbar. Pain shot through her left shoulder. Inch by inch she dug into the clammy sand escaping the river. Finally free she lay panting on the shore. Her shoulder was agony, her head ached and she was scraped and bruised all over. The tightness in her right boot might mean a sprained or broken ankle. But she was alive.
She sat up, wincing. The sky was just lightening into the first whisper of dawn. The rapids were nowhere in sight. She had hazy memories of the cataracts slamming her into the deep water. She’d lost the spar early in the journey downstream. Borne like a leaf on the current spinning through the night, gulping for precious air. She remembered thrusting herself toward the shelter of this cove in a last desperate effort. Luckily the current had been on her side and pushed her against the sandy shore.
She was so cold. Her clothes were sodden tatters. They did little to stop the shivers racking her. She closed her lips, trying vainly to stop her chattering teeth from. Wet ropes of hair encircled her throat. She untangled it from the Heartstone’s chain. It was still there. Nothing would dislodge it except death. She shook with more than the cold. The weight of the slender chain dragged on her neck. She was alone. There was no one here to help her, guide her. It was all up to her. Where was Jarod? What about Cerynus? Her mind shied away from the question. Her stomach started to ache.
The memory of Cerynus’ death slammed into her. He couldn’t be gone. Tears ran down her face. It was impossible. Sobs burst through clenched teeth. She felt hysteria rising. Ruthless she stopped her sobs and concentrated on what to do. She’d mourn later. Right now she couldn’t indulge in her grief. She didn’t know where she was. How far had she drifted? Rhysin’s men could still be after her. She wanted to kill them. They’d murdered Cerynus. But that had to wait. Right now she was vulnerable. They’d be searching the riverbank. She had to get away from the river. She had to survive. She owed it to Cerynus.
She’d need food and shelter. Her tattered clothes; they’d need to be replaced. Her cheeks stung as tears coursed down her cheeks. Her shoulder felt like red-hot pokers were being thrust into the bone. She stood, hissing at the pain in her right ankle. A pile of debris was trapped between some willow roots. She hobbled over, bent down; waterlogged bundle tied with twine rested between silver roots. Carefully she retrieved it. She’d look at it later. Right now she had to leave.
She caressed the hilt of her dagger, Jarod’s first gift. She wrenched her thoughts away from her companions. Next to the willow a small sapling thrust up from the bank. She hacked a branch off. Ripping off a piece of her tattered tunic she tied it over the jagged end. Sap leaked through the cloth but it offered some padding. The journey had to continue. Visions of bloated flesh floating in the river intruded in her mind. She retched. Washing the sourness out of her mouth she gritted her teeth, stuffed the branch under her arm and hobbled west away from the river. A subtle prompting sense emanated from the Stone. She had to trust it. The Stone was all she had left.
Ariana walked painfully through the brightening woods. Intermittent shudders almost knocked her over. She battled to put one foot in front of the other. The ground was level the forest mainly saplings and sparse undergrowth. She supposed she should be grateful, but nothing really matter
ed.
She walked until the sun was high. Her ankle throbbed in her boot. She sat huddled in the thin sunlight. Her clothes had dried stiff on her. Her hair was ropy from the river. She had to get warm. She’d die of exposure if she had another night like the last one. She sneezed, head pounding. Gathering tinder from the deadwood she built a small pyramid of sticks. She checked her belt pouch, no flint. Tears threatened. She heard Cerynus scolding for forgetting his lessons. She looked at the Stone. She thought about heat and tongues of flame crackling cheerily in a fireplace. She opened her eyes. Dispelling the chill was a small blaze. Grateful she put her hands over the flames. She sat dully. At least she was warm.
She remembered the waterlogged bundle she’d slung over her good shoulder. She carefully untied the water-swollen twine and opened it. The bundle was made of coarse cloth containing some hardtack wrapped in soggy paper and a tin cup. She unfolded the cloth and put it by the fire to dry. She folded up the twine and put it in her belt pouch.
Taking the hardtack out she looked at the hard wafers wondering how long they’d last. She picked one up and gnawed a piece off the end. It was as hard as rock. Her stomach cramped from eating after so long and bile rose in her throat. She tried to quell the nausea. She breathed deeply and her stomach accepted the food. Finished with the tasteless meal she pulled the still damp cloth around her and huddled closer to the banked fire. The heat soothed her and she slept.
She woke up stiff, her shoulder throbbed and her ankle was a red-hot pincer in her boot. She gathered her things, and hobbled west. Every step was torture; she welcomed the pain it kept her from thinking. It was her penance. She was no longer cold; in fact she sweated as she walked. She alternated between burning hot and shivering cold. A red line of infection crept steadily up her leg. She didn’t notice. That night she made camp in a small thicket. She didn’t even bother to make a fire or eat before rolling into her blanket.
The next day the forest grew sparse. By the middle of the afternoon it was swamp, Full of hillocks difficult for Ariana to navigate with her makeshift crutch. Ariana stepped around a grassy hummock. Her crutch slipped. She fell, white-hot pain flaring up her leg. Noxious mud splashed as she prostrated onto the coarse grass and cattails. The black mud was viscous and cold.
A howl of pure rage erupted from her swollen throat. She was not going to stop. This was for them. Her fists beat against her thighs splashing the dirty water into gray foam. She’d been forced to stop, to feel again. This was all she was now: a mindless howl. Her eyes blistered with tears; her head ached with the keening pounding in her skull. Tears ran in an acid stream down her face. The only way to stop the knot at the base of her neck or the salty taste in the back of her throat was to move. Quivering sobs arched out of her ribcage bursting forth against her will.
Finally it was over. The crusty tear trails dried on her face as the shudders eased. Blowing her nose on a tattered sleeve she wiped swollen eyes with a cold hand. Dead white trees stood in brackish water, ringed by tough stalks of marsh grass and the tall fuzz of cattails. There was no solidity. There was probably a trail but Ariana didn’t have the energy to find it. Ariana dragged herself to her feet. She went back and found higher ground; wrapping herself in her blanket she closed her eyes.
She was in a clearing ringed by oaks. The glow of sunset washed over the green trees. There was a cloaked figure in the center arms raised in prayer. Ariana waited on the outskirts of the grove. The figure turned around. It was her mother. But this time she was older more like Ariana remembered her. Her gray eyes were loving but stern. She came toward Ariana stopping a few yards away. Ariana rushed forward, but stopped at her mother’s warning gesture.
“Come no closer, dearest.”
“But Mom…”
“No listen, my time is limited. You must stop indulging yourself. You have a purpose to follow.”
“I’m doing the best I can.”
“No you aren’t. I know you can do better. You’re closing yourself off from the gifts that were to given you.”
“But Cerynus…”
“Your sorrow will keep. You don’t honor him this way.”
“But…”
“Ariana listen to me. There is no time. Rhysin’s power is growing.”
“Alright, but what about Jarod? Is he alright?”
“You must be strong.”
“Why are you here? Why can’t you stay with me?”
Her mother smiled. Ariana’s heart twisted. Suddenly all she wanted to do was to be held. She reached out.
“The closer the Stone gets to Galancarrig the more powerful it becomes.” Julia looked at her; “I am linked to both. I took the Stone away to save it. Now I can never rest until it returns. Because of the strength of that geas I can talk to you. Heal yourself. You’re the Stonebearer. Use the gifts you’ve been given.”
“I don’t know how.”
“No excuses. Close your eyes.”
Ariana obeyed. She felt a tingling in her hands and a flood of images raced through her mind showing the technique.
“Farewell, dear heart.” Her mother’s image faded into the oak grove.
“Don’t go.” Ariana’s voice trembled.
“Be strong.” Her mother’s voice sighed through the oak leaves. Ariana was alone.
When she woke it was twilight. The bitterns called across the reeds. Her mind was clear. Staring at the Heartstone she sent her mind down into the depths. She felt the flare of pain in ankle and shoulder. She sent the white light of the Stone to knit the bones and sinews and ease her fever. There was resistance. She focused the energy more intensely. She let the Stone’s healing power wash through her. For the first time since the accident the ball of lead settled in her chest eased. She put the pain aside, for now. Settling into the first healthy sleep she’d had in days she welcomed the mists of oblivion that would stop all the striving for a while.
Ariana sat up and stretched. It was chilly this morning but she felt rejuvenated. She built a small fire and roasted some tubers she had gathered. She finished the last of her hard tack with the roots. Refreshed and fed she walked to the edge of the swamp. She stepped out onto a patch of grass that seemed solid. It held her weight barely. Teetering on the solid hummock she peered at the dark water searching for the way. Carefully she stepped onto the grassy knob. She picked her way from hillock to hillock, climbing over deadfall and slogging through marsh grass. There was a trail of sorts but it took all her concentration to stay on it.
She took a circuitous route leading deeper into the swamp. Wet clammy moss trailed from the dead branches onto her skin. She had to climb over dead trees laying half in the black water. Once or twice there seemed to be no way across at all. But The Stone seemed to give her a sense of the trail.
She skirted dead pools of water or passed the gray oatmeal of quicksand, the latest victim still suspended in a rictus of starvation. The further into the swamp they went the less life she saw. The moss laced between the stark dead trunks blotted out the sky.
The sky grew gray and cold and the wind picked up. Ariana’s feet were like ice; the water in her shoes squelched with each careful step she took. Her universe narrowed, bound by trees, mud and water. She wished he would splash her again as he had earlier in the day, but he was silent. The sun was setting when she realized she had almost reached the other side. The ground was still squelchy under her boots but the pools of stagnant water and dead trees were left behind.
She was still surrounded by marsh grass. Brambleberry bushes spilled across the path in thorny clumps. She picked the berries as she walked, enjoying their fresh tartness in her parched mouth. There was the flash of silver in the water and she saw a fish flapping on the shore. She picked up the fish and looked around for a good place to camp. Gathering deadfall she soon had a small fire burning. She gathered some tubers from the marsh and put them in the coals to roast. She spitted the fish. She feasted that night.
For the next few days she headed west over the grasslands. Th
e grass was yellow-green, tasseled and tall. As she walked it swished around her legs. The breezes flowed through it like currents and the rustling and whirling like the lapping of waves kept her company with every step. The ground was flat with some gently rolling hills. The mountains were still distant blue outlines but she knew she was going the right way. Every night she camped amidst an unending sea of grass and watched the stars above her.
Ariana continued west toward the mountains that towered over the plains. The deep green of the grass gently sloped up to the creamy granite escarpment that stood sentinel between the mountains of Serenvale and the rest of the world. They were breathtaking; a perpendicular wall of buff stone topped by a range of mountains that created an impassable barrier. The mountains were blue in the distance and topped by pristine snow. Closer to the cliffs they were light in color ranging from the pale ivory of the cliffs to a deeper tone of iron gray as they reached the heights.
She stopped by a small waterfall that cascaded down from the mountainside in a rush of cold clear water. A small stream meandered off into the grass. Ariana knelt; cupping her hands and tasting the icy water as it soothed her parched throat and made her teeth tingle. Finished drinking, she rinsed off her face and hands. She looked down at her filthy garments. She stripped them off. Efficiently she rinsed the jerkin and pants and her blanket for good measure. Spreading the clothes out on the grass she let the late afternoon sun dry them.
Then it was her turn. Taking a deep breath she jumped into the water. It was so cold it took her breath away. She bobbed up to the surface with a yelp. She dove back under the water and scrubbed at herself. She dowsed her hair into the water and came up dripping, water streaming down her face. She watched with satisfaction as bits of tangled hair floated away on the current. She was finally clean. Invigorated by the cool caress of the water she drifted in the small pool letting the water soothe her. Her hands were wrinkled and white with cold when she got out.
The Heartstone Page 13
