2. Sullha
SULLHA
T hey had surfaced too soon.
Yaaf had warned Sullha that it might happen.
The scooter that had pulled them through the water, the thing that she'd clung to with both hands while Yaaf drove it, had carried them most of the way, but then Yaaf had brought them up short for some reason, and the moment her head broke the surface and she spat out the mouthpiece and tried to breathe, she started flailing.
The swells were lifting and dropping her, the scooter was dragging at her arms instead of pulling her along, and she began to sink, saltwater filling her mouth.
Panic surged, and then Yaaf had her.
He came up behind her, his arm locked across her chest, under her arms, and he pulled her back hard against him so that her body went from vertical to horizontal in the water, her back against his chest, her face tipped up into the air.
The change was so sudden and so total that her panic spiked before it eased.
"I have you," he said at her ear, calmly, unhurriedly, as though they were standing on dry ground. "I have you. You are not going under. I will not let you."
"I can't—" She got a mouthful of air and half of a wave with it. "I can't swim, I never learned, there was nowhere to?—"
Did he know how? Were Brotherhood soldiers taught how to swim?
She'd come to think of him as an all-powerful superman, but what if he'd never learned?
"I know. You do not have to do anything.
That is the whole point." With his free hand, he unclipped the scooter from between them, where it had turned from a vehicle into an anchor, and clipped its tether to a ring on his own harness so it trailed behind instead of dragging at her.
"Listen to me. The only thing you have to do is calm down and stop fighting.
Let your body float, let me hold you, and do not try to climb, kick, or right yourself.
If you fight me, you push us both down. If you go still and trust me, I will carry you the whole way. Can you do that?"
It was the hardest thing he could have asked.
Every instinct in her screamed to stay upright, to claw for the surface, to grab hold of him and climb, but she trusted him, so she forced herself to do the opposite.
She forced herself to go limp against him, let her legs rise, let her head rest back against his shoulder, and put her life in his hands.
Yaaf rolled onto his back beneath her, her body stretched along the front of his, and he began to swim, towing her with him.
His free arm swept long strokes, and his finned legs drove both them and the scooter through the water toward the boat.
She lay against him in her borrowed wetsuit, with no fins on her feet, nothing to do but be carried, and looked up at the pale sky, and felt the swells lift and drop the two of them together.
Her face stayed clear, and the air kept coming, exactly as he'd promised.
"Two incoming," someone called. "Take her first."
The Guardians came down for her. Two of them leaned over the side, caught her under the arms, and hauled her dripping over the rail and onto the deck. They set her on her feet and steadied her until she found her footing.
A breath later, Yaaf came up behind her, hauling himself up and over the hull.
"Hand me your fins and the scooter," one of the Guardians said, and there was a grunt and a clatter as Yaaf passed the things up.
Then he was beside her, dripping, his hand on her back.
"You see?" he said. "We made it. You did well."
She had not done anything. He had done it all, keeping her from drowning in the last stretch, but she did not have the breath to argue.
Instead, she swept her gaze across the deck, searching for her son.
She found him sitting cross-legged on the deck beside Bowen, the Guardian who'd transported him from the cove inside a waterproof case.
They were both sitting with their backs to her, so she had a moment to marvel at what she was witnessing.
Tomek was dry and fully engaged in conversation with the Guardian as if he'd known the man for years and considered him a friend. It was astonishing to see a boy who'd grown up surrounded by mostly women, in a place where the only men were guards, trusting a stranger so easily.
Was it a good sign? Or was Tomek unprepared for the outside world?
Now that he wouldn't be taken to the training camp, the only survival skills he'd learn would come from her, and she didn't know if she was enough.
Then again, Tomek had good instincts, and he was very good at figuring people out. He'd looked at this clan warrior and decided he was safe.
"Tomek," she called out to get his attention.
He turned toward her and his face split into a grin.
"Mama!" He scrambled up and ran to her.
Sullha dropped to her knees, caught him, and held him so hard he squeaked.
"I'll go check on my friends," Yaaf said, smiling at Tomek before walking away.
"Mama, you're all wet." Her son pushed on her shoulders, trying to wiggle out of her embrace.
"I am. I didn't travel inside a waterproof case." She let him out of her crushing hold, her hands lifting to his face. "Were you afraid in there?"
"I slept." He said it as though it were obvious. "And then I woke up on the boat. Bowen gave me a snack." He twisted to point at the Guardian. "He's telling me how we are going to make bows and arrows. Then he is going to teach me to shoot at a target so I can get really good at it."
The subject of his admiration got up and walked over to where Sullha was still crouching and dripping water on the deck.
"Tomek is a good boy. Brave." Bowen's command of the island tongue was rough, the words coming out slowly and sounding odd.
She pushed to her feet and offered him her hand. "Thank you for keeping him safe and for entertaining him until I got here."
"It was my pleasure," Bowen replied in English and reached over to ruffle Tomek's hair.
Her son beamed up at him as though the sun had personally complimented him.
Sullha kissed the top of Tomek's head and turned her attention to the other women.
It was a scene of soggy chaos, but they were all there.
The women were a sorry-looking bunch, still as wet as she was, and huddled in groups to share warmth. Some were shivering, but since the air was warm, it was probably more from exhaustion than cold.
She knew exactly how they felt.
Other than giving birth to Tomek, Sullha had never done anything so physically exhausting as the nearly four-hour underwater journey. At times, she could not feel her arms, and if not for Yaaf, she would not have made it.
The others could not have fared better.