Heron’s eyes were wide as he turned to me.
“Damokas?” I gasped.
“Dead,” he said, his breathing gusting heavily.
Behind us, the footfalls were getting closer. We had to get out of here. We had to leave right now.
I swallowed, reached into Heron’s pocket and pulled out two of the magic masks he’d stolen in the tent. I slapped one over Vyvera’s mouth, hoping she was still alive enough to need it, and the other over Heron’s.
“I sure hope these work,” I said, before grabbing his hand and pulling him after me into the river.
His warm hand felt comforting as the cold water pulled us into the fast-flowing current, erasing any trace that we’d ever been there at all. I clung to it, hoping that knowing he was depending on me would give me some sort of burst of inspiration, because I had no idea what to do next.
Sela! Water!
At least Nasataa sounded pleased.
Episode Three: Desperate Flight
Chapter One
I clung to Heron’s hand, pulling him underwater. He was carrying Vyvera, stumbling along the river bottom. The current pushed against me and more than once Heron shot me a puzzled look as I pulled him upstream. But our enemies would expect us to go downstream. And if we did what they expected, then they’d catch us quickly.
We were outnumbered. One of our number was unconscious, and the dragon we’d all relied on to get us out of this mess was dead. And where was Octon? He was our local guide and we’d lost him in the commotion.
I wanted so badly to talk this through with Heron but talking underwater didn’t work and Heron’s mouth was under the magic patch that made it possible for him to breathe under the water. Hopefully, those patches gave him all my abilities – the warmth stabilization, ability to handle the water pressure, ability to walk underwater and control easily whether to walk or swim, and the ability to breathe underwater.
Frustrated, I pressed on, walking along the river bottom and holding my staff at the ready. Fortunately, my ankle was bothering me less in the water. Adding a sprained ankle to everything else we were up against only complicated things further. And I was fed up with complicated.
A whoosh filled my ears and then, in a cloud of bubbles, something plunged through the water just in front of us. I braced myself, staff held firmly in both hands. Heron’s hands were occupied with Vyvera. It was up to me to defend us. My heart was already pounding but I clenched my jaw and readied myself. No one ever said this would be easy.
The bubbles cleared and the dark figure in the shadowed river plunged toward us. I stabbed forward with my staff and he froze, eyes widening.
Oh no! It was Octon!
I tried to give a sign of apology as he scowled at me around his magical breathing patch, urgently signaling for us to follow him.
The rush of the river filled my ears as we fought from shadow to shadow.
Another burst of bubbles ahead and I rushed forward. Octon was our only ally here, which made that an enemy. I stabbed with the staff, connecting almost by accident with the enemy’s leg. A burst of darkness clouded the water around his leg as his flowing garments pulled at the currents. There was a surprised look on his face and then he plunged upward back to the surface.
For that matter, what was keeping Heron and Octon here on the river floor? I could guess that I was held down by the water in my lungs, replacing the air. But did their magical patches over their mouths do the same thing? If not, wouldn’t they rise to the surface?
I looked back to where they were, and my eyes grew wide. I hadn’t even heard a sound, and yet they were surrounded by Bubblers!
And now I knew why they were called Bubblers.
Bubbles surrounded them, pouring out of the ends of rods they held, but they weren’t normal bubbles. They were tinged a dark color. I was hard to make out the exact shade underwater in the dark. They held small lamps in their hands to light the way. How long could those burn underwater? Or were they magical?
I rushed toward the others, slashing one of the Bubblers in the back with my bladed staff. I flinched as a puff of darkness filled the water around him.
What was I doing? If I flinched every time I hurt someone, then I wouldn’t be able to defend my friends. But I couldn’t help but feel the pain of a knife slash across the back when I inflicted it. It wasn’t an easy thing to hurt another person – and it shouldn’t be.
Gritting my teeth, my inner self crying at the necessity, I stabbed the bladed staff forward, hitting a second bubbler. I didn’t know where I hit him, only that he stumbled and then kicked upward toward the surface. The bubbler I’d hit the first time seemed to be in shock. He clutched his back, arching backward with pain.
It felt strange to fight underwater – the water slowing our movements and the sound of the rushing water blocking out all other sounds. Dark bubbles streamed away with clouds of dark blood.
But now three more Bubblers were closing in, ignoring Heron and Octon to join together against me. I was clearly the biggest threat. I was the only one with a weapon.
I held my staff out, firm and ready. Behind them, I saw Heron catch a stumbling Octon. Octon must have been injured in the battle. Or maybe those colored bubbles were even more toxic than I first thought.
One of the Bubblers launched a stream of bubbles at me. I ducked under them, feeling awkward as I tried to dodge the slow-moving stream. The way they rippled through the current made them unpredictable and difficult to avoid.
A second stream rippled toward me. I ducked out of the way, slashing wildly with my staff and popping some of the bubbles.
Uh oh. Bad idea.
The bubbles burst, filling the water with a glittering haze of red and then pain shot through my lungs like inhaling pepper. I sneezed violently, temporarily disabled by the burning wave.
I recovered as fast as I could, slashing my bladed staff out and connecting again. But now I was in trouble. Heron swayed in the water as he tried to support two unconscious people and drag them forward, a look of anxiety on his face as he glanced constantly back toward me. But what else could he do? He couldn’t take my place. I couldn’t carry two people – not even in the water.
My lungs were screaming as I lunged again, this time I hit so hard that my blade lodged in my victim. My stomach bucked as I yanked the staff back and forth, trying to dislodge the blade. The feeling of it catching on something hard, and then catching in the other direction before finally pulling free, made me want to throw up. I swallowed down nausea as the broken bubbler I had just mangled hung heavy in the water, blood gushing from a gaping chest wound.
There were three more, and these ones weren’t going to make the same mistake. Had more bubblers joined in the fight? I couldn’t keep track of them in the chaos. All I could do was fight the ones I could see.
Their expressions hardened as they turned their bubble staffs on me, taking care not to come into range of my staff.
With nods to each other, they let out a burst of bubbles toward Heron.
With a feeling near panic, I leapt forward, slashing bubbles as quick as I could, trying to defend him, but as the bubbles burst close to me, their effects washed over me. I felt hot and feverish, visions and illusions dancing across my vision. Was that Ramariri swimming through the water? Was that my birth mother calling to me?
No! Get a hold of yourself, Seleska! They were hallucinations, nothing more. I gripped my staff, trying to blink my vision clear as the last three enemies closed in. I tasted blood, sick at the thought that I was breathing that in with the water. I was going to be ill.
And then I was going to die, because there was just no way that I could defend myself from three enemies while fighting the effects of their poison. Did I say three? There appeared to be five now. No, eight. Wait. Was I hallucinating? Which ones were the real ones?
Help! I called in my mind. Help!
Chapter Two
A blur rushed by me and I flinched, flicking the staff up in defense. I hit
nothing but water. There was another blur and then a third one and then I was hit hard from the side and I stumbled, barely catching my balance with the staff. I was thrown from my feet a second time and I fell against Heron.
His eyes were wide, and he pointed with his chin toward something behind me. I glanced back and my own eyes widened at the sight of the sleek bodies swirling in the water surrounded by clouds of inky darkness.
Those weren’t sharks ... were they? Not in a river.
But they were some sort of huge fish. And they ... no, I couldn’t think about that. The scent of blood filled my nose and I hurried to put a shoulder under Octon and help Heron as he dragged Octon with one arm while he carried Vyvera with the other.
We were too slow. We couldn’t possibly go fast enough with two people to carry underwater and walking against the current. Frustration made me clench my jaw as I pushed forward.
At least we weren’t being shredded by river fish.
Yet.
I pushed harder, fear giving me strength that I didn’t know I had. It was long minutes until the scent of blood was gone from the water. Even longer before I could turn and look behind my shoulder and see nothing but darkness.
My heart hammered in my chest and every wave of seaweed or brush of the current set my nerves aflame with fear. At any moment they could turn from their feast and come after us. We were easy targets, simple prey.
Eventually, my feet began to drag as the fear wore into exhaustion. I couldn’t go on much longer. I could feel it on my bones, dragging me down, making my steps drag and my ankle groan with pain.
I thought I was going to have to stop, going to have to quit on everyone, when suddenly Octon shook his head, and though it fell back to his chest, his feet stopped dragging and started to stumble between us.
It felt like a lifetime before he was carrying his own weight. I wanted to look at Heron and see his reaction, but I was too tired for even that. It was all I could do to stay upright and keep going.
When finally, Octon was carrying himself again, stumbling but on his own two feet, I let go of him and sent a grateful glance toward Heron. His eyes were set dead ahead and his face was drawn. Octon might be carrying himself again, but Heron was still carrying Vyvera and he looked like he couldn’t take even one more minute of it.
Fortunately for me, Nasataa was asleep in his bag. But even his lighter weight was beginning to drag at me as my strength faded in the cold of the water.
I nearly walked into the anchor in the water in front of me. At the last second, I grabbed the rope instead, stumbling to a stop. Up the rope, the small craft was a dark outline rimmed by moonlight. The water here must be shallow.
I paused for a moment, catching my breath.
I nearly screamed a warning when Octon leapt up, kicking toward the surface. What was he doing? What was he thinking?
Heron followed him, kicking against Vyvera’s weight – but he was too tired from carrying her and he sank again. Should I help him? I felt the draw to come to his aid, but I didn’t think we should go to the surface.
I shook my head at him, trying to communicate that it would be a terrible mistake to go back up to where the Bubblers and Rock Eaters were. Surely, they were looking for us. Surely, they would be hot on our path. And it would be easier to find us if we were above the surface of the water. At least down here, we had the advantage of being hard to reach.
Heron thrust his jaw toward the surface, a determined look on his face. I followed his gaze to where Octon’s head dipped into the water from the surface. He was nothing more than a silhouette, but he was beckoning toward us energetically.
This was a terrible idea.
Heron shook his head, frustration in his eyes. He knew what I was thinking, and he wanted to go with Octon. That was clear from his expression.
Trying not to sigh with worry, I grabbed Vyvera’s legs, helping Heron move her from the slumped position over his shoulders. He rolled his shoulders in relief the second she was down from them, and together we kicked up and made our way to the surface.
Octon had better know what he was doing.
Or this pointy staff of mine would be the least of his worries.
Chapter Three
We broke the surface and I choked, coughing out water. I was never going to get used to that. It took me a moment to realize what the panicked look on Heron’s face was. I reached out and ripped the magical patch from his mouth. The light faded from it as he coughed and choked just like I had, finally spitting out the water so he could breathe air. Vyvera was next. Fortunately, even unconscious she was able to cough up the water she had been breathing. I’d been worried about that.
The boat, it turned out, was empty and small. It was anchored in the river near a dilapidated landing and covered in a tarp. Octon, exhaustion marking his every movement, helped us pull and push Vyvera into the boat and then the rest of us tumbled in, covering ourselves with the tarp. We were cold and wet, but no one had enough energy to complain about being crammed into a tiny space and shoved against everyone else. At least it was warm this way.
Nasataa’s snores eased me into sleep.
I woke to him licking my face and burping tiny flames into the air. The tarp had sagged at one end and morning light was filtering into the moldy boat. I struggled to sit up. I hadn’t slept nearly long enough. Had it even been more than a few hours? I didn’t think so.
But the morning light brought better spirits. Sure, we were being hunted and chased and sure my ankle throbbed from walking on it while it was sprained, but today would be better. We’d find some way to go forward. Everything could start new again.
Nasataa flamed again and I fished out some of what had been dried meat from my pocket. It wasn’t very dry now and it hung soggy and stinking from my hand. He didn’t seem to mind, eating it with enough relish for a fine feast. I shrugged. At least river water wasn’t brackish. He could drink that.
His wet feet walked across Octon and Vyvera before he found the prow of the boat, shrugged out from under the tarp and leaned down to drink. He sure was an indomitable little thing. Here we were in a foreign place – and one full of adversaries! – he’d been caught and caged twice, all he had to eat was soggy old meat, and he seemed as happy as a fish in water. I liked that spirit!
I smiled tenderly before I heard a cough behind me and turned to see a sleepy-eyed Heron rubbing his eyes. He’d slept beside me – almost over top of me as if he could guard me with his body. Maybe he could.
“We’re alive,” I said, surprised by how raw my voice sounded.
“For now,” he agreed, but the strain of the situation made his voice tight.
“Today will be better,” I assured him with a bright smile. It would be. I would make it better.
Vyvera sat up so suddenly that I nearly jumped. She coughed, a fit wracking her body so that she shook and heaved before spitting out a glob of black tar. She was in worse shape than I remembered. Wicked wounds ran down her arms and legs. One of her arms hung lifeless at her side.
Hadn’t Heron had a head wound last night, too?
I stole a glance at him to see concern written across his face. His head wound had scabbed over. It must not have been very bad, but his concern was growing to a tight anxiety. And no wonder. Vyvera was our way out of this place. The one who knew where we were and how to get where we were going, and she looked ... bad. Very bad.
“He’s dead,” she gasped. “I’d hoped ... I’d feared ... well, he must be dead.”
“Damokas?” Heron asked gently, continuing at her nod. “I saw him when we grabbed you. They mounted his head on their tower like a trophy.”
She gasped, her body shaking, and then she coughed again, a terrible barking cough that seemed to come from her very core. The black tar she was spitting up couldn’t be good. I exchanged a worried look with Heron before moving to her side.
“Let’s get that arm in some kind of a sling,” I offered, tearing off the mask that dangled around my neck –
part of my disguise, and lengthening the strap with the buckles. It would have to do for a sling. We didn’t have much else.
She let me sling her arm, barely flinching at my touch, though her arm seemed completely immobile.
“I think we need a real healer,” I said grimly. “I think it’s broken.”
I’d seen a broken arm before in the village. The healers would make sure the bone was right and then tie things up so they couldn’t move until it knit. I didn’t know how to do that right and doing it wrong might be worse than doing nothing at all.
“No point,” Vyvera said, pain etched across her face. “We must press on. The Troglodytes wait for you and getting you and Nasataa to them has to be our first priority.”
Nasataa ran past along the gunwale of the boat as if he had heard his name, leaping and snapping at flying insects. He was so innocent. Too innocent for all of this.
“We will do that,” I assured her. “But first, let us get you to a healer.”
She barked a laugh that held no humor.
“When I said there was no point, I meant it. I won’t live past two weeks. Dragons and their riders are bound to each other. If one dies, the other dies, too. That cough of mine – the black goo I am spitting up – it’s the result of that. We have just two weeks – maybe much less than that – to get you to the Troglodytes. And I will get you there if I have to die trying.”
Chapter Four
I shivered at her words, memories of Ramariri flashed through my mind, a bevy of images from our short few days together. He had meant so much to me. I hadn’t even realized he was dying until he was almost gone. I hadn’t had time to really tell him how much he meant to me. It was that feeling that lingered, burning through me and making me clench my fists and jaw even after the memories were gone. That terrible feeling of loss and helplessness combined with anxiety. I hated that feeling. But it felt as familiar as breathing.
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