Chapter Twenty-Two
Ione
Seafoam licked at their feet, tinted gold in the dawn light.
Beside her, Lina scanned the narrow stretch of beach behind them for any sign of Rigel or his men.
Nothing, evidently; she pressed herself into Ione’s arm, both of them shivering in the shadow of the craggy cliffs jutting into the sky above.
“Are you sure about this?” Lina pulled anxiously at the hood of her cloak, her discomfort clear. “It looks good at a glance, but it won’t last if we take this… route.”
Red lip paint, cheap face cream, and cocoa powder.
That and the innkeeper’s silence was all the necklace Ione had stolen from her mother’s room could buy, but mixed and daubed just so on half of Lina’s face, the ingredients changed her appearance entirely.
Now to any passers-by, Lina looked like an unlucky Menon-worshiper: wrapped in a threadbare cloak, her hair pulled back and hidden by a hood, and her face appearing to be burned.
See, Ione planned to say to her parents, to anyone who asked why she had gone. My attendant was taken from Oseidos that night. I suppose I walked right into Soliz’s trap, but I couldn’t very well leave her, could I?
It sounded fool-proof unless she thought too much about it, so she didn’t. She had to get to Caelos first at any rate.
Ione squinted above them through the hem of her own hood, although there was no way she’d see Caelos from here, practically right overhead but hidden by a rocky outcrop.
A breeze swept over them and she breathed deep, once again certain of what she smelled: the sea-salt twinge of hydromancy, high above.
Wards. Even if they made it up the mountain without getting captured by Rigel’s men, who no doubt watched, they had no chance slipping through wards strong enough to be sensed from the ground.
“This way,” she said, “we can’t be followed.”
“True.” Lina’s hand trembled in hers. “But I don’t like this. Henceforth, as my heliade, I’d like you to practice something a little more wholesome, like immolation, or perhaps burning down orphanages.”
Ione sniggered. “It is selfish of me not to have completely changed my magical class, yes.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed Lina’s forehead. “I can do this. And once we return to Caelos, you can resume your ordering me around. I think I might enjoy it.”
The surf parted for them, and step by step, Ione led Lina into the briny depths.
It was a gentle slope down, their feet sinking into the squelching sand. The water closed overhead, forming a protective bubble around them: one of the most versatile skills, Kai had said, and something that Ione ought to master. She had.
Or at least she better have.
“Wow,” came Lina’s voice, awed. “Is – is it fine if I talk? Or is it distracting?”
“It was,” Ione managed, “when I started out. Now, I find it helpful.” She squinted, to no avail: while plenty of sunlight filtered in at this depth, the world bathed in jewel-blue, she couldn’t see a thing beyond her shield.
“Keep talking,” she instructed. “Tell me what you see so I can focus.” Her foot slipped, pitching her forward before she righted herself; around them, the shield tremored. “And – ” She caught her breath. “Guide me so I don’t trip and kill us.”
“You inspire such confidence,” Lina said dryly – but still, she snaked an arm around Ione’s shoulders.
Kept her steady, moving ever further from the surface.
“It’s beautiful,” Lina said, her voice falsely-light, like this was a quaint park and not a mire of sand and seaweed a hundred metres below sea level. “I wish you could see it.”
A shadow passed over them and Ione tensed, but Lina rubbed her back. “That was a school of fish,” she assured her. “I dunno what. Small, silvery ones. They avoided us.” A pause. “What… happens if something hits us?”
Ione’s eyes flitted to another smooth stone underfoot, passing harmlessly through the shield. “I think it’ll hold as long as I’ve energy to keep it up.”
“I don’t like your use of the word think.”
“I’m also not sure.”
She sputtered. “Ione!”
Ione flinched as another creature gambolled past them; an octopus, she surmised from the movement, the hint of legs. “You knew from the start that associating with me would be very sexy and dangerous.”
Lina let out an indulgent sigh. “I did know that. But if it wouldn’t risk distracting you, I’d be hurtling between sobbing and raging right now.”
“I appreciate you holding it in.”
Her arm tightened around Ione’s shoulders. “I appreciate you acting tough and unafraid. How long is this going to take again?”
Ione glanced to the side, at the black, underwater smudge of the cliffs. Just around the bend was Caelos’s bay, swarmed with Mahina ships. “An hour,” she said. “Probably.”
Another long sigh. But again her thumb rubbed a reassuring line up and down Ione’s arm, and her voice was fond as she described glittering fish, sea turtles swooping like gulls, kelp trees taller than buildings waving in the current.
They curved around the root of the cliffs, taking care not to slip on the wet tresses of seaweed coating the rocky ground.
Not much longer, Ione repeated inwardly, her own thoughts growing louder than Lina’s soothing voice.
Just one last bend, one last turn – but every turn revealed more black cliffs, more fields of undulating kelp and dancing fish.
Close.
They were so close.
Discomfort grew into agony; each step sent a charge barrelling up her spine.
How long had they been walking? Even lifting her feet was a chore, made worse when the sea floor began to incline – incline!
Towards the end, surely, please, gods – gradually at first, but then steeper.
Their feet sunk into the wet sand; Lina moved behind Ione, palms on her back, pushing her upward.
Talking, talking. There, a fish. There, a rope covered in mussels. There, a sunken rowboat.
“There!” Lina cried, pointing into the expanse of blue.
“Do you see it yet? Beams, supporting the docks.” She squinted.
“I think I can see the ships beyond – those shadows? D’you see?
” She pressed into Ione’s back, helping her trudge up the hill towards the beach, her steps strong and certain where Ione’s were slow, tortured.
Water spurted onto their feet from tiny holes, not worth the extra energy to seal them. They were so close. They would make it. Ione measured each breath, each bone-searing step. The hem of her cloak slapped wetly against her ankles.
“You’re doing great.”
Was she?
“You’ve got this.”
Did she?
Push, push, push. Ione’s head pounded. Her arms shook. Unable to help herself, she looked up. Still blue, sunny but dense, solid. And still a long, long way to go if she were to lose control now.
“Almost there.”
Even Ione could make out the docks now, deep shadows beside them supported by thick, algae-coated beams. At the end, salvation: the beach, dry land. Lina was right. They were almost there.
But Ione was rapidly running out of steam.
“Lina,” she whispered, startling Lina into quieting. Ione licked her dry lips, tasting sweat. More and more water trickled in through slowly-widening rivulets. “We’re going to have to run.”
She didn’t respond, her fear palpable, her breath hot on Ione’s neck. And then she hoisted one of Ione’s arms over her shoulders, her other arm wrapping around Ione’s back, and pulled.
Seawater lapped at their ankles, their calves. Lina half-carried her, panting, kicking up water and muddy sand. The sea was lighter here, more sunlight filtering in, but Ione’s eyelids drooped and she moaned, losing her footing, barely hearing Lina’s curse.
Not here. Not yet. Ione gritted her teeth, reminding herself that Menon had not left her because she was weak.
She was strong. And she had promised, vowed to get them to Caelos.
“Stop,” Ione commanded just past the shadow of a rowboat, ignoring Lina’s incredulous cry. The docks, just beside them, were only a short way up. She disentangled herself widened her stance, lowering. “Trust me.”
Lina barely had time to question her before Ione thrust open the shield in one long shaft, leading straight to the surface. A torrent gathered beneath their feet, shooting them both upward, towards the docks, the light of day, safe and solid land.
Closer, closer, closer –
Seawater surged, colder and heavier than she could have imagined; the shock of it pulled the air from her lungs, forcing her to gasp for a breath she couldn’t take.
Lina. Ione threw her arm up, used the last of her consciousness to propel Lina to safety.
If not both of us, then at least Lina.
Fingers grazed her arm, her wrist. Then fell away.
The sea roared. Her body moved of its own accord, plunging, flailing – and then she hit something hard and sun-warmed and she curled, heaving. An arm wrapped around her, propping her up; magic jolted through her and the rest of the water purged itself, saltwater stinging her throat and nose.
Shouts, the thudding of footsteps up and down the docks. Healer!, someone called, Get a healer!
Coughing, Ione opened her eyes, flinching to see Kai’s brother Hilo, his face wreathed with something between fear and fury and confusion.
In moments Mikau materialised, eyes huge.
“Deep breaths,” they said, laying a hand over her chest. The last remnants of water rattled in her lungs, coming out of her mouth in a burning sputter.
“Lina!” Ami, releasing a choking cry; Ione twisted to look at her, at the blur of crewmen watching from the end of the docks. “My gods, your face – ” Ami reached, but Lina caught her hand.
“I’m fine,” Lina said, inching back and pulling her hood over the sludge of makeup, half washed off, making her appear ghoulish. “It’ll heal.”
“Your hand,” Ami said then, horrified. “What happened to your fingers?”
“Lady Ione,” Mikau hissed, wrenching Ione’s attention back to them. “Is it difficult to breathe? Does your chest hurt? Take another deep breath – ”