by Rose Reid
My fingers reach out and ensnare the closest thing to me — Dominik’s ankle. I feel my shoulder nearly jerk out of place as our free fall is halted. Gasping in pain and trying to reach up, halfway to see if my arm is still attached, I look to the bridge to see what has stopped our fall.
Lyom stands over us, holding onto Dominik. We are three links in a chain, the weak link being Dominik.
Lyom struggles to hold both of our weight and the boards beneath him begin to crack.
“Lyom!” I shriek in a higher pitch than I’d meant to. “Let go! Now!”
My fingers tighten around Dominik’s ankle inadvertently when the boards creak again, one of them cracking loudly, the sound echoing down to the rushing waters below. I should let go rather than make Lyom drop us both but my fingers won’t listen to my command.
The boards beneath Lyom groan again and the entire bridge seems to shudder. Behind him I see more shadows appear — Carnahan and Jamas, ever loyal, wrapping their arms around their Swordmaster’s middle, keeping him from falling over with us.
The rushing of the river below is almost deafening. A fall from this height … there is a chance I will live and a chance I will die. If Lyom remains where he is and the bridge falls, we all certainly die.
“Lyom,” I call again. “Let go.”
Lyom suddenly drops, Carnahan catching him by the wrist before we all three plummet to our deaths. My shoulder aches miserably. Spray from the water mists my cheeks, a cold dew over my skin.
“Lyom, you have to let go or we all fall.” I urge him.
Lyom isn’t listening. I know the bridge will fall at any moment. My arm is already shaking from the pain in my shoulder and the strength it is taking to hold on. I look up at the three servicemen. In the darkness, I cannot see if there is indecision behind the Swordmaster’s eyes when I let go of Dominik.
“Aerietta!” I hear Jamas shout.
The moment I let go of Dominik’s ankle I feel that weightless sensation again. My heart lurches into my throat and instinct makes me want to flail my arms, reach for something close by the grab hold of, but logic tells me there is nothing close to grab onto.
Lyom must have dropped Dominik as well because his shadow is suddenly over me. I feel his hand grip my wrist and I’m tugged over his body. Before I can protest or shove him away, we hit the water.
I hear the splash before I feel the icy fingers reaching up and covering my arms, legs, back, body. Needles shoot into my skin, pain zipping across my entire body like electricity. The intense cold of the rushing water forces the air from my lungs before I can command myself to hold the oxygen in.
The swift current of the coursing river drags me down and my hold on Dominik is broken. Subconsciously I know it was pointless to try to keep him close by but the first thought in my mind is that I must reclaim him, cannot risk him living.
The current seems to wrap around my body and jerk me down to the riverbed, throwing me against rocks. What little air remained in my lungs now vanishes and my whole body feels the pain from the lack of oxygen. I’m cast against the sand and dirt on the riverbed as the current rears back to thrash me against the rocks some more. The rapids are merciless, not allowing me up for even a moment’s breath of air. Even with my eyes open the water is complete darkness and whatever creatures live in these turbulent waters are shrouded in the inky blackness of the deeper caverns.
Without warning, I breech the surface of the water. My first instinct is to gasp in air, which I do so greedily, but half of the air I take in is spray from the rapids. I choke only to be cast down into the water again, the icy tendrils of it crushing the air from my lungs.
The next time I surface I manage to stay afloat, grabbing onto the nearest boulder to keep from being dragged further downstream. The water has shut off most of my muscles, making clinging to the slippery rock even more difficult. I am barely able to pull myself up out of the water and prepare to jump across the expanse of water to the land that lies on the other side. Before I have even leapt from my place on the boulder I know my weak muscles are not enough to launch me across and I’m drawn back into the water, thrown back beneath the current, and cast against a giant rock beneath the water’s coursing surface.
Pain shoots throughout my entire body and my lungs burn. My usual reaction of waking slowly, opening my eyes to be sure that no enemies surround, fails me and I shoot to a sitting position, coughing violently. Water spews from my lungs and onto the grainy sand, my entire body spasming with uncontrollable shivers. My lungs burn, along with the rest of my insides. I gasp in air greedily as though it will be taken from me at any moment.
Warmth closes in behind me and though I am racked with shivers and aggressive coughs, I recognize the warmth of a body.
I grab the hand of my assailant, preparing to throw him over my head, but all I manage is a weak roll before I begin coughing again, my body shaking with shivers. My muscles refuse to help me, refuse to cooperate, but I manage to unbuckle my belt even as I try to cease my coughing.
“Etta,” Dominik whispers in concern, scooting closer to where I sit. His mistake.
I whip the belt from my waist and loop it around his wrists, standing and spinning around behind him so that I sit to his back. I pull my leather belt tight and his wrists are pinned together, held to his stomach. Dominik groans and tries to pull free of my binds but it would appear the water weakened him as much as it did me.
My knife, I think. Where is it?
Dominik musters up just enough strength to roll forward, sending me sprawling towards the rushing river nearby. I scramble up and grab my belt from the pebbles before he can reach it, kicking him backwards into the escarpment that frames the gulch. He hits the stone wall hard and before he has the chance to get up, I have whipped my belt around his neck and dragged him down into the rocky sand.
His hands fly to his neck, trying to pull the leather belt away, but I have him in a position that resistance would be futile.
I don’t need my knife.
“Etta, please.” Dominik beseeches me. “Please, think about this!”
I laugh, tightening my belt, hoping that the sound of my voice is not feeble, weak, or scratchy from my coughing. “Think about what, Dominik? Thinking of your betrayal or your halfhearted attempt to win me to your side will only enrage me further, so please, tell me what it is I am supposed to be thinking of!”
I know I sound mad, entirely insane, but I couldn’t care less. My fate is not certain, but Dominik’s has been secured. I will finish this, not for Dryden or for Lyom but for myself — for the people of Lydovier, the righteous men of my father’s cabinet, for Quay, who placed his faith in Dominik and trained him believing that he would one day be a great help to Lydovier and the progress of King Cress. Looking back now, I can only wonder why it was not Dominik who was born the next Child of the Elements; it would seem everything he touches turns to ash and blood.
Dominik’s hand covers mine in a ploy to get me to feel something and I laugh, snapping my hand away, tightening my grip on the belt.
“A good attempt, I’ll give you that.” I say.
“Etta, listen to me!” Dominik manages.
Grinding my teeth together, I loosen my hold on Dominik only slightly, just enough for him to breathe but not enough room for him to escape from my hold.
“Speak quickly. My patience wanes.” I growl.
Dominik breathes in a quick breath, trying to heal his parched lungs. I roll my eyes, waiting for him to finish his pitiful attempt at catching his breath. None of it will matter in a moment anyway.
I expect Dominik to say something profound, or to at least make an attempt to lie his way out of it by denying his affiliation with King Dryden, but he says none of it. Instead, he breathes in heavy breathes and when he half looks over his shoulder I see a confused expression etched into his features.
“You have been employed by King Dryden?” he asks in a pained breath.
I stare down at him in astonishment. “Ho
w dare you pretend you haven’t done the same?”
I can hear the astonishment and befuddlement in Dominik’s voice. “What?”
I tighten my hold on the belt, forcing some of the air from his throat. “Don’t play dumb.” I hiss, unwilling to let go of the hate in my heart. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Dominik shakes his head, hands grabbing mine. “Etta, whatever they told you —”
“You left me!” I spit. “They didn’t need to tell me anything!”
Dominik struggles to get his words out due to the coiling of my belt around his neck, still he does nothing to retaliate. “I didn’t leave you,” he chokes out. “I was deceived by Cicero and Sebastien. They —”
“Don’t leave Laderic out of the fun.”
Dominik shakes his head. “Lad — nothing —”
I groan loudly, perhaps obnoxiously, and loosen the belt around Dominik’s throat. He gasps in a breath when it loosens but I keep him held tight to my chest, fighting back the shivers that threaten to take me over yet again. As soon as the adrenaline in my body dies back I will freeze out here in the night.
“What?” I bark.
Dominik chokes and coughs twice before, “Laderic had nothing … to do with … anything, Aerietta.” He fights for breath. “Neither did … I.”
Dominik slips into unconsciousness and I drop my hands from around the belt, moving them to the side of his head and his jaw, instantly in position to break his neck. I could do it. I should do it. I have hunted him, tracked him across Evrallon and now Adaai for the past month, and I now have him laying before me, unconscious even!
My hands shake from either the cold or anger, I cannot be sure which, as both are taking their toll on me. I fear my teeth will shatter under the pressure of my clenched jaw.
Shouting in frustration, I release Dominik, moving to stand as far from him as possible. I rake my frenzied hands into my hair, not believing myself. When did I become soft and nostalgic? Since when has killing been difficult for me? Admittedly, it has never been a sport I enjoy, but it is my life; it gives me purpose, a reason to wake up every day. When I am in the midst of an assignment, I never second guess myself, yet here I am.
Earlier tonight I did not understand Lyom’s concern for me, checking again and again to be certain I would commit to killing Dominik. Now I understand. I probably would have killed him earlier tonight, when rage boiled hotly through my veins, but being here with him now, the boy that I spent the better half of my life with, it is more than challenging to even imagine killing him.
He claims he had nothing to do with my betrayal.
Wouldn’t Cicero and Sebastien if you had a belt around their necks?
I shout out again, knowing I am probably drawing wild beasts to me but couldn’t care less. Whipping around I stare at Dominik. He is completely unconscious, completely helpless to defend himself, laying in the pebbly sand with his arms splayed out around him and his expression completely limp. If I had found him in this position earlier today, I would not have thought twice about killing him, but still I am gullible, sentimental, and entirely naïve.
I take into account that of all the people I know, Dominik would be among the first I trust. Cicero and Sebastien I do not find faith in, King Dryden only wishes to use and manipulate me. So why have I placed my trust in my enemies?
Frustrated with myself and with everyone around me, I whip my belt back around Dominik’s wrists and buckle it tightly so that he will have to struggle to get it undone and by the time he has it unbuckled I will be on him.
I leave Dominik to lay in the sand while I go to gather dry sticks I find by the riverbed. I drag the small driftwood logs back to a pit I create in the rocky soil, locating flint to use as a spark. It takes longer than I would have hoped and by the time the first spark flies I have nearly been overcome with the cold breeze that whisks through the gulch. The fire catches shortly after, lapping up the dry wood, engulfing it like sweets. I sit and huddle close to the fire, keeping my hands warm by it but keeping an eye on the unconscious Dominik all the while.
The fire slowly builds to a roar and I continue to feed it in hopes that it will burn until morning. If this fire goes, so do we. Even though I have not decided whether I trust Dominik or not yet, I drag him up to the fire in case I decide he is my friend and not my foe. Either way, I’m sure Lyom will want to see me kill him before his eyes to be sure I have actually committed the deed.
My clothes are not fully dry until morning, by which time Dominik has roused, rubbing his neck with his bound hands. He watches me carefully under the new day’s light.
“You decided not to kill me.” Dominik observes.
I shoot him a cutting glare. “I could change my mind at any moment.”
Dominik tries to raise his hands in silent surrender but remembers his hands are bound and sets them back down in his lap. Sitting this close to him, seeing him for the first time in what seems like years, I can’t help but study him.
He has changed so much in the past month. If it were possible to have aged in such a short time period, I would say Dominik did. There are tired circles beneath his eyes that are no longer the bright silver I remember. His hair is matted, not kept and clipped like I remember it, but not as long as Lyom’s hair, just brushing the tips of his brows.
So many questions come to mind, not just about his betrayal but about his whereabouts — Laderic’s. What has he been doing? Simply running from King Dryden? What heinous crime did he commit to have the king of Evrallon nipping at his heels?
“You’re conflicted,” Dominik says without even looking at me.
I frown. “I’m not. I know where my loyalties lie.” I answer pointedly.
Dominik does not wince at my jab as I’d hoped. He just adjusts the cuffs of his damp shirt, scooting closer to the fire I have kept roaring. Soon we should leave our warm campsite and begin to make our way down the gorge, hopefully finding a pathway to the top along the way. But my muscles are not yet fully functional and the heat of the fire is too enticing.
“Yes you are.” argues Dominik. “I can always tell when you’re conflicted. You get this look; a look like you could be happy or about to kill someone.”
Part of me wants to smile at that but the assassin in me squashes the urge. “For your sake I hope you have information on Laderic’s whereabouts.”
Dominik shakes his head. “I won’t tell you. You’re convinced that we betrayed you.”
I jump to my feet, one foot stomping over the fire in the process.
“You left me.” I shout as Dominik gets to his feet. “Was there something else I’m supposed to be convinced of?”
Dominik’s sad expression causes me hesitation but my hesitation is quickly ended when he reaches for me. I grab his wrists and bring my knee up into his groin. He grunts painfully and doubles over. I grab him by the belt around the wrists and begin to drag him away from the campfire.
“A valiant effort, Dominik, but you’ll find I cannot be fooled a third time.”
I force him to walk behind me for miles as I stomp down the water’s edge, looking for any way to make it back up the gulch. Lyom will be looking relentlessly for us, I’m sure, because whether the hardened Swordmaster would like to admit it or not, we have formed an unlikely friendship. I doubt he and his men return to Evrallon quickly.
As we walk, I try to pry information on Laderic’s location from Dominik but either Dominik does not know and is too foolish to tell me or he does know and is proving to be far loyaler a friend to Laderic than he was to me.
The day is hot and long, the ground scorching. I wish I had my boots with me and not these horrible flats that somehow managed to stay on my feet during the rushing of the river, but they do little to protect the soles of my feet from the parched, dried ground. The river is our constant companion, rushing alongside us all the scorching day as we walk, but the scorch of the day is nothing compared to the Menca Denu.
There’s an awful little voi
ce in my head, reminding me that while Lyom may no longer consider me a threat or an adversary, he may not consider me valuable enough to stick around. For all he knows, I plummeted to my death alongside Dominik. With Dominik supposedly dead, what reason does he have for finding me? To locate Dominik’s body and take his head back to the king? If anything, I hope he plans to do at least that.
Dominik is quiet along the walk, not speaking, though I know he fears the same thing the little whisperer in my head does.
The first day of our trek comes and goes without incident and when night falls I start another fire, keeping Dominik close by. It’s easy enough to stay awake for the first half of the night but as the moon arches higher into the dark expanse above me the more exhaustion tries to pull me into a deep slumber.
Dominik stays up as well, sitting beside me as the fire cackles and burns. He has already offered for me to sleep and him to watch but I’m trying to be less of a fool around him and that is not a good way to start it off.
When morning arrives, we stomp out the fire and keep moving. I hold Dominik’s wrists the entire time, never letting him wander a few feet to the left to fall into the rushing river.
The heat of midday becomes extreme enough that when we come across an area of the river that is shallow and easy, I pull Dominik into the knee-deep water and splash myself off as well. Dominik stands in the smooth-flowing stream close enough for me to touch him if need be. He looks despondent, hardly paying attention to the river around him. His pensive look worries me and I straighten up some, waiting for something to happen.
Dominik opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again as if he cannot decide whether it is worth saying or not. He opens it once more before finally deciding that speech is better than silence.
“You’re really going to take me back to him,” Dominik says in disbelief.
I huff. “If you refer to Dryden, then yes.”
