Chapter 6
Cerban
Every muscle in my body burned as I wrenched at the rocks blocking the cave mouth. The sea fought me with every surge of the storm, trying to drive me back, but I refused. I was not leaving her behind.
Piece by piece, I shifted the smaller stones, letting them tumble into the abyss. Each time I moved one, more silt bled into the water, blinding me. My gills stung from the grit, my shoulders scraped raw where the jagged rock tore at them. Still, I pushed on.
Inside, I caught the faint sound of her fists striking the stone in rhythm with me. She was helping – weak, but stubborn. The thought filled me with a savage pride. This human was no helpless prey. She was fighting for her life, and I would match her strike for strike.
At last, the biggest boulder shifted. I jammed my shoulder against it, wedging my body in the gap. My spine screamed, but slowly, agonisingly, the stone moved. The opening widened enough for her small frame to squeeze through.
"Do you think you'll fit through this?" I called out.
"I believe so. I can't believe you actually did it. I thought I'd be trapped here forever - well, until my air ran out."
I shuddered at the thought. Finfolk couldn't drown, but I imagined it as a horrible death.
"When I say so, swim to me and hold on tight. I'll get us back to the surface. Any time you need a break or have to breathe, squeeze my shoulder. I'll go as fast or slow as you need."
I heard her take a deep breath before she replied, her voice shaking despite her determined tone. "Yes. I'm ready."
I breathed in a few times as deep as I could, filling my lungs with oxygen.
I could hold my breath for a few minutes if needed, giving me the chance to share my air with her without having to stop swimming.
Soon, we'd be back on land. If the Tidebound was here, I'd take her to the medbay to get scanned from top to bottom, making sure that she hadn't sustained injuries during her misadventure.
But the spaceship was far away. We'd have to rely on human technology.
I didn't know if there was a medic on the island.
If not, I'd... I'd figure it out when we got there.
First, I had to bring her back to the surface.
I gritted my teeth and steadied myself. "I need you to swim through the gap now. Don't be afraid. We shall get through this."
Together, I wanted to add. But I didn't want her to think I was doing this for any other reason than to save her life.
"Alright, I'm coming!"
She took one last deep breath, then she swam to the entrance. I tasted blood in the water. She was bleeding from several scratches on her arms and hands. How had I not noticed that before? I must have been too focused on getting rid of the rubble.
And then she was in my arms, body trembling. She was so small. So vulnerable. I grasped her head, forced her to look at me. There was fear in her eyes, but there was also hope. I clung to that. I would be her hope. I would save her.
I pressed my lips to hers, trying hard to ignore how good it felt. This was just to give her the air she needed. It was not a kiss. Nothing like that. She sucked in my breath, then leaned back, breaking the not-a-kiss.
As I turned us, something caught my eye: bubbles still streaming from cracks in the cave wall. Not the random scatter of air, but pulsing, steady, almost purposeful. My gills flared, tasting their metallic tang. Strange. Important, maybe. But not now.
She was my priority. And deep inside I knew that she'd always be that. Even if she didn't know it yet.
I powered upwards, cutting through the storm-churned sea.
Waves battered me, lightning flashed faintly through the water, but I didn’t stop.
Every few strokes, I'd breathe for her. She was clinging to me still, but her grip was growing weaker.
Despite that, I stayed beneath the surface even when we had ascended all the way.
It would be faster to swim back to the island underneath the wild waves.
I drew on my last reserves of energy to propel us through the angry sea.
As we got closer and closer to the island, the coral reef appeared beneath us, strangely peaceful despite everything that had happened.
Many of the colourful fish had sought shelter amongst the coral and rocks, but a few were swimming happily despite the pull of the currents.
When at last we broke the surface, it was chaos. Waves rose higher than my shoulders, slamming against us with the force of battering rams. Rain lashed down, stinging my eyes, while the wind howled so loud it swallowed her gasps.
She clung to me weakly, too spent to fight the sea on her own. I wrapped one arm around her chest, keeping her head above the waves, and struck out with the other. My legs drove against the current, every kick a battle.
Lightning flared, turning the water silver for a heartbeat. It showed me the breakers ahead – white foam hammering the shallows of the beach. Getting through them would be dangerous. But the shore was close. Not much longer and she'd be safe from the brutal forces of nature.
“Hold on!” I shouted, though I doubted she heard me. Her hands clawed at my arm anyway, and that was answer enough.
The first breaker hit, tumbling us beneath a mountain of foam. I tucked her against me, twisting so my back took the brunt of the surge. The pressure crushed us down, then spat us out, tumbling end over end. We surfaced coughing, but alive. Another breaker loomed.
I timed it – one deep breath, one powerful surge of my legs – and we rode the crest. It hurled us forward, slamming my knees into sand. My greenskin flared with pain. I staggered upright, half-carrying, half-dragging her through the sucking pull of the retreating wave.
At last, the sea let us go. I carried her up the beach, away from the grasp of the foam, until the dunes broke the worst of the wind. There I set her down gently on the wet sand.
She was trembling violently, lips blue, eyes dazed. I brushed the tangled hair from her face, listening. Her breaths came in ragged bursts. Too fast. Too shallow.
“Breathe,” I urged softly, crouching close so my words cut through the roar of the storm. “Slow. In. Out.”
She tried. Failed. Coughed seawater. I tilted her onto her side until she spat it out, then steadied her again. Relief shuddered through me when her chest rose more evenly.
I laid my hand against her sternum, feeling the frantic flutter of her heart. Was this a normal rhythm for a human? It felt too quick for my liking. But it was strong. She was alive.
“You will not die,” I told her fiercely. Whether she understood or not, I didn’t care. The words were a promise, as binding as any oath.
The storm raged above us, but for that moment all I could hear was her fragile breathing – and the vow echoing in my blood that I would keep it going.
Her breathing steadied little by little, but the colour of her lips still frightened me. She was too pale, her skin clammy beneath my hand. Humans were fragile. Too fragile. I had no way of knowing if water had reached her lungs, if she would worsen once the shock passed.
On Finfolkaheem, healers would already be swarming her, pressing hot poultices to her chest, forcing her to rest until her strength returned. Here, I had nothing. No Tidebound. No finfolk medic.
I'd have to take her to the humans. They'd know what to do.
But to seek help meant confessing. Pam had warned us clearly: no contact with the staff. No exceptions. After Kelon’s disgrace, every rule had been sharpened to a blade. If I carried Maelis to a human medic, there would be questions I could not answer without exposing us both.
I looked down at her again. Her lashes trembled against her cheeks, her chest rising too shallowly. She needed a healer. Not rules. Not politics. A healer.
“I should not have spoken to you,” I murmured. “I should have turned away when I saw you dance.” The words tore at my throat. “But if the price for saving you is punishment, then so be it.”
She stirred faintly, her lips parting as if she wanted to speak, but no sound came.
My heart clenched. I bent closer and gathered her into my arms. She felt far too light, limp as seagrass, head lolling against my shoulder.
I adjusted my grip, so her face was turned away from the rain and started up the beach.
The wind clawed at me, dragging at her damp hair, driving salt into my eyes, but I didn’t slow. Each step sank into wet sand, but still I pushed on, muscles aching from the dive and the fight against the current.
The resort’s lights glimmered faintly through the sheets of rain, my only beacon. Somewhere in those buildings were humans trained in medicine. They would know how to ease her breathing, how to prevent hidden injuries from stealing her away later.
Pam would rage. Paul would lecture. Rainse might even laugh at my stupidity. None of it mattered.
Rules could be mended. Reputations rebuilt. A life could not.
I tightened my hold on Maelis and strode faster toward the cluster of lights, my gills burning with every breath of storm air. Whatever punishment awaited me, I would face it. But first... She had to live.