Chapter 23 Ro #2
The quarry’s blue surface shimmered like solid glass aside from the ripples Braxius and I created—his when he dove in and out.
After each plunge, he performed air spirals that spit water on me from above.
Despite the day, he still made me laugh, that little rapscallion.
After he’d gotten his fill of bath time, he flew off to dry in the sun on the other side.
The restful pool before me was serene. Simple, beautiful, undisturbed.
I’d never envied a body of water until today, when a heightened desire for a life with those attributes bloomed with greedy fervor.
One day, I wouldn’t carry the burden of so many fates in my hands.
My shoulders sagged through my sigh as I rose to my feet.
Alba slipped on one of the more narrow ledges leading to the ramp. She shrieked for all of one second before realizing she still remained steady on the ledge. But she glanced at the slashes on her palms courtesy of the jagged rock and hissed in pain.
“We need to move,” I said with no remorse for any injuries she acquired on this trip.
I stepped aside, giving her space to lower onto the ramp.
Usually I’d guide her through each step, but I chose not to give her my attention.
“Don’t slow us down,” I spat the words while trying to hide the snarl on my face.
She didn’t deserve my empathy, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to waste my breath coddling her.
Without waiting, I began scaling the wall again, heading toward the northern lip.
The first couple steps were daunting as I rose higher and higher from the water.
I did my best not to focus on how far the drop became and what would become of my body if I landed on one of those sharp rock points breaking through the water’s surface.
Once I reached the first steady series of ledges to the other side, I relaxed a bit.
The jut outs were wide, giving my feet plenty of purchase.
Things were easy until I reached a point of debate.
Any direction was more than my leg span apart.
I could attempt to jump up and across, continuing along the clearest trail, or down and hope a new path would lead me to the top.
I weighed the options. The sun’s heat began searing my dampened skin, like the water was now a lightning rod to the burning rays, and I could feel the energy in my limbs draining.
Releasing a deep sigh, I made my decision. Down it was. “Follow my lead,” I said to Alba, emphasizing the path, without looking back. A quick glance at my projected trajectory told me that missing this jump would be painful, to say the least. Many ankle breaking opportunities.
Before my palms became any sweatier from trepidation, I planned where to grab after the jump. With hopefully more nimble grace than I’d ever been able to pull off before, I leapt.
My feet connected as my fingernails dug painfully into the unyielding stone. I wobbled, the impact nearly causing me to stumble. Somehow, with a stroke of luck, I steadied. A rush of heat unrelated to the blasting sun flooded my body.
“I-I don’t think I can.” Alba froze. Her muscles were taut, her posture rigid. She hadn’t moved this entire time.
I battled the rising wave of annoyance to say, “Just do what I did.” Honestly, I hadn’t been all that confident in my own jump, but showing any uncertainty wouldn’t help us make progress now.
She had to borrow confidence from me, or she wasn’t going to even attempt it. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
No reaction.
“Alba.” Her name was soft on my lips. She finally brought her gaze to meet mine. “You can do this,” I said, ignoring the struggle she’d likely face when she attempted my route.
She blinked a few times, gathering determination. With a hard swallow, she assessed the jump before nodding subtly, more so to herself. Her face glistened with sweat, definitely more than mine. “C-countdown for me?”
I would have scoffed if the pleading in her voice wasn’t so gut wrenchingly pitiful. “One…Two…Three!”
She hesitated, her face contorting into an uncomfortable scrunch, but then she jumped.
By the time I blinked, she landed on the ramp.
One obstacle down. She could cool herself off and then—her feet slipped.
Her arms scrambled and clawed for something to grab onto, but gravity had already intervened.
The flash of fear across her wide eyes was slightly amusing.
Oh, she was going to cool off, alright. In fact, maybe I should have jumped in when I was splashing my face.
When she submerged under the water, a small smile twitched on my lips. Tilting my head back to hide my amusement, I gazed upward at the cloudless blue sky. A lone bird flew overhead, a sparrow if I wasn’t mistaken, and I huffed a tiny laugh at the comforting familiarity.
Glancing over my shoulder, I peered down at the water. Alba hadn’t broken the surface yet. Odd. Her form remained under the clear, blue-tinted surface, arms flailing, feet kicking, bubbles rising—but she made no progress. Horror gripped my stomach with slimy awareness.
She couldn’t swim.
She hadn’t been sweating from only heat and exertion, she’d been nervous to be close to the water.
I recalled her unease when we crossed the Splits, too.
Well shit. I’d barked orders at her, no warmth to my words as she’d faced her fears.
And guilt had so thoroughly eaten at her that she didn’t dare voice her concerns.
A slowing stream of bubbles burst on the water’s surface—she was running out of time.
I peeled off my bow and backpack, tossing them haphazardly over the edge I would have emerged from only moments later if I’d continued.
Then I shoved off the ledge and prayed to all the gods that I wasn’t about to become a human skewer on these rocks.
That sinking feeling hit my gut before I hit the water. I pinched my nose just as my pointed toes broke the surface. Booming, hollow silence surrounded me, and when my descent ebbed, I opened my eyes.
Alba’s uncoordinated movements were slowing. With broad strokes of my arms, and wide sweeps with my legs, I swam for her. I hooked my arm around her waist, reaching the other toward the surface to help us crawl upward.
The heavy pressure seemed to thicken with her fear. She didn’t pause her wild, frantic movements, latching onto me in a way I couldn’t break free of. It hit me then and there that this wasn’t going to work. Alba was going to drown, and in her panic, she would take me down with her.
With an equal amount of crushing pressure as the water around us, sorrow and guilt constricted my lungs as tangibly as the lack of air.
This had been my fault. I’d treated Alba like my enemy because I’d let anger and pride mask my humanity.
I couldn’t stand to witness suffering, yet I blatantly ignored all of Alba’s.
And because of it, we’d die here, and Taja would kill everyone in Rahana. “Neri, help us,” I desperately prayed to the God of Water.
“What are you doing, bloop, bloop.”
An unfamiliar voice hit my ears beneath the depths of the water. No, not my ears, my mind. Was I crossing over the bridge of death? Were the gods greeting me?
“You’re not doing it right, bloop.”
Alba’s unrelenting grip drew us further below the surface.
“Bloop bloop, what kind of creature is that?”
My brow wrinkled in confusion. Peering around, once my hair floated out of the way, I saw who was speaking. Several fish had gathered, watching our hysterical spectacle.
They stared, unmoving, save for a tiny sway of their side fins. Was that judgment in their unblinking eyes?
“We need air. We need to go up!” Did fish even hold a sense of direction? With my own seconds counting down, I didn’t know what else to say other than the basic truth.
A moment of reflection came on clear as day. Fish. My last words would be to half a dozen fish.
“She speaks! Bloop.”
“She’s one of us!”
“Bloop bloop, call the rest!”
Alba’s fingernails bit into my skin, but her grip softened.
Her kicking feet wrapped around my legs, immobilizing me completely.
Instinctively, I looked up at the surface.
Above the bubbles climbing upward, a tiny blue blur dashed over the surface.
Braxius raced in panicked circles. My heart broke that my little friend would have to watch what happened next.
When the bubbles stopped, and the water calmed, I became still far out of his reach.
Alba’s movements eased into jerking motions until she made no more.
Even if I unwrapped her from myself, I wouldn’t make it.
My lungs were on the brink of exploding or collapsing, whatever lungs did when all the air was gone.
The pressure was increasingly painful. Maybe karma was marking its claim on me.
Besides, getting myself to safety would only mean abandoning Alba to a watery grave I forced her into.
She didn’t deserve to die on Taja’s mission, and I certainly wouldn’t let her die alone.
My warm tears became one with the cool water as my hold around her released of its own volition, my strength waning.
I reached out, a gesture of a final goodbye to my dragon friend above, when suddenly the pressure grew more intense. The edges of my vision started fading, but I registered the nudges along my body.
Up. We were rising up.
We cut through the water with impressive speed, the light of the day breaking through the water until, finally, we breached the surface.
I gasped for air.
“RO! RO! Are you alright?!” Braxius cried.
My ability to think clearly or function hadn’t returned yet, my focus solely on filling my lungs with that life saving lightness. When I started regaining function, I whipped to see Alba. She remained unconscious, but floating. No, not floating, held up by a school of fish.
Actually, so was I.