Chapter 11 #2
Just when I think it can’t get any worse, we hit another rock, and Xara’s basket is lost.
Fuck. This. Current.
Howling wind batters my face, forcing tears from my eyes. I duck low against it, but it’s like a wall, pushing me back. My body slips, but my grip holds.
Everything here is heightened. Even the storms. If I’m going to survive, I can’t forget that, for even a moment.
We hit the biggest rock so far.
Kira goes flying, and I don’t think. I risk my hold by grabbing her by the back of her shirt, keeping her in the boat. But not all of her.
Her sword slips out of her hands, into the water.
“No!” Her scream pierces even this tempest. Desperately, she stretches her arm to her side, palm open, the same way she did when she claimed the sword. The same way Raker called his own.
Nothing happens.
“Stop!” Kira shrieks.
The boat obeys. We all go flying as it suddenly halts. I land in the middle with a thud, bones screaming. It immediately jerks to the side, fighting the current.
“What are you doing?” Zane yells from the front.
Kira doesn’t answer. She makes to throw herself off the side, before I pull her back. “We don’t know what’s in there,” I bellow over the onslaught. “And the weather … you’ll drown.”
She looks back at me, tears streaming down her face, mixing with the rain. Her voice trembles. “I’ve—I’ve never been chosen by anyone. Or anything. This—this blade chose me. I can’t leave it behind.”
“What about your sister?” I say, my voice breaking on the last word.
She shakes her head. “I’ll never get her the magic she needs without a weapon like this.” She slips from my hold—and before I can say anything else, she’s jumping over the side.
I gasp, gripping the wood, peering into the sloshing water, watching as her figure disappears.
It doesn’t surface again.
A minute passes. I throw a look over my shoulder at Zane, who is clutching the sides of the boat, being tossed about wildly by the surging streams, waves crashing into the prow, and sputtering foam all around him. The boat is filling with water. We have to keep going.
She’s gone. Trying to save her would be a death wish. Even if I could. Even if I could—
Metal clangs at my feet, glimmering through the deluge. Her sword. I rush to the side and see her hand reaching out. I take it—
But a rush of current pulls her away, past the boat. She disappears beneath the waves again.
“Follow her!” I scream, and the boat is released from its hold. I’m knocked onto my back. The wall of rain blurs my vision. I lose sight of Kira in the whitecaps.
Then I see her hand again.
I reach over the side, grazing her fingers, before she’s pulled under. No. I strain, curling toward the water—and the boat lurches again. I fall forward.
Zane pulls me back, arm around my middle.
“Look. There she is.”
Up ahead, she’s clinging to a massive rock. The boat bounces back and forth before reaching it.
Zane pulls her into the boat. She gasps, retching water, her legs folded beneath her.
I crawl to her as the wood groans and rocks, fighting to stay upright. “Are you okay?”
Kira nods weakly. She grabs the hilt of her recovered sword, knuckles pale. She’s freezing. There’s no time to speak, no time to do anything at all but hold on as the boat races forward.
The river churns into a series of whirlpools. The rain turns into relentless throwing daggers, aimed right at us. The wind becomes a rampart. All conspire to flip the boat. Only its magic saves us. We cling to the sides. My hands grow cold and sore, but I don’t let go.
Once dusk falls, the weather only worsens.
My eyes close against the storm; I curl my body to preserve as much heat as possible. I think about hot meals and warm socks and soft bedding. The magic my mother once told me about. All things that I might never have again, but I imagine them, until the river finally smooths. Until the rain thins.
I finally look over at Kira. Without the constant rain and water splashing into the boat, I now see it.
Red, puddling beneath her.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” I demand, rushing forward, searching for where she’s bleeding.
Her legs. One of them was shredded by a rock.
I take a strip of ripped fabric from her pants, and wrap it around and around, as tightly as it will go. She looks up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
They close.
“No,” I say, clutching her hands. They’re freezing. “Stay awake.”
It’s almost dawn. We’ll be at our destination soon. I’ll be able to wrap the wounds better. We could find her help. But she needs to stay awake.
Her eyes close again. I pinch her fingers.
“Tell me—tell me something,” I plead. I said the same words to my sister as she was dying.
Kira goes quiet. I pinch harder.
“Tell me about your sister,” I say.
At that, she smiles. “She’s—” Her voice fades away.
“She’s what?”
“She’s a terrible liar,” she says weakly. “Everyone always beats her at cards.”
I nod. “What else?”
Quiet. A rock jostles the boat.
My voice rises. “What else?”
She takes a shaking breath. “She … she hates lying, but she lies for me. She lies when she says she’s had enough to eat.
She lies to the neighbors about the firewood missing from their backyards.
” She swallows. “She—she lied in front of a guard and kept me from the jails when I was accused of stealing food.”
Her eyes glisten as they open again and hold mine. I don’t drop her gaze, gripping her fingers tighter, and she squeezes back.
“She’s only twelve, but she’s so smart. I used to steal her books from the ruins of an ancient house.
It had been almost completely looted, but no one cared about the books, of course.
Every time I would go out thieving, I would bring one back.
She would be waiting with the most delicious food.
Somehow, she made potatoes taste good without salt.
I can’t explain it.” Her sigh shakes her whole body.
“I would give anything for her potato soup. She puts—she puts some sort of pepper in it.”
“You’ll have that soup,” I say, putting both of her hands between mine, trying to give her some warmth. “What happened to her?”
Kira frowns. “Our mother—she was addicted to hemdrake. She didn’t stop using it when she was with child …
and my sister was born weak. Frail. My mother abandoned her at the outskirts of town, next to a forest, hoping the wolves would get her.
I snuck out and brought her back. I began stealing milk and fed her every day.
She gripped my finger—like this.” She wraps her hand around my pointer finger.
“And those eyes … they looked at me like I was the only person in the world. And I was … for her. I still am.”
She shakes her head. “The drug killed my mother soon after, and there we were, alone. She was always feeble. She couldn’t leave the house, but she was smart and capable and began weaving for money.
Between that and the thieving, we carved out a life.
But then … she started having the same signs my mother did.
Shortened breath. Uncontrollable shaking.
I saved everything I made from stealing to bring a medic to our home, but he said she’s beyond help.
Her lungs are too small. She’ll suffocate to death one day soon. The only hope—”
“Is magic,” I finish.
She nods. “I knew the Questral was approaching. I promised a merchant a portion of my winnings if they took her in. They did. I didn’t tell her until the last day, and you—you should have heard how she screamed at me. How she told me she could live with her own death but not mine …”
She looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy and dejected.
“You are not going to die,” I say, gripping her hand tighter. “Her name. Say it.”
Tears stream down her face. “Anise. Her name is Anise. I named her—named her after the flowers my mother abandoned her on.” She laughs. “There are so few flowers on our side. But there they were … a patch of them … as if they were holding her.”
I nod, throat tight. “Anise will get medicine. Anise will get better. You will survive this.”
I have no business saying these words, or caring if she does survive this. But I do. I do.
Her gaze locks onto mine. Something in her changes. Firms. The fire in me spreads to her, like inviting a person to share the heat of a hearth, and I see the resolve set in her face. “I will survive this,” she whispers.
“You will survive this,” I echo.
She holds on to my hand with the strength of a person who hasn’t already lost a good portion of her blood. She doesn’t let go, until our boat knocks against the riverbank—and stops.
“We’re here,” Zane says softly.
The sun is creeping over the horizon. Kira is still clutching my hand.
We lift her out of the boat, and Zane curses as he sees the extent of her injuries. Her leg—it’s ruined. Her knee buckles, and we catch her. We all take one step together. She screams with pain.
“Stop,” she says, shaking her head, her hair still pinned back. “You both—you know,” she chokes out. “You know I’ll never make it. You know I’m going to put you both at risk and—and it’ll be for nothing.”
“I’m not leaving you here,” I say, voice firm. I couldn’t save my sister, but I will save hers. “We will reach the end—together.”
Zane looks over at me. He says nothing, but I can read it in his face.
I look down at her leg. Even if we can heal the cuts, she won’t be able to walk alone, let alone run.
“Aris,” she says, voice low and serious.
“No.” I remember my sister telling me to leave her. Telling me to save myself. My eyes burn with the memory. I close them. “You will survive this. You will.”
“Aris,” she repeats, and it might as well be my sister speaking. “We made a pact. Remember?”
The quest must come first.
I open my eyes. She grips my hand. “Put me in the boat. It will sail back to Xara. She’ll help me get back to the gates—I know she will.”
“But your sister—”
“You’re going to make another pact,” she says, her voice firm. Her green eyes are blazing, searing into mine. “You’re going to promise me … if you make it back … you will get magic to my sister.”
It isn’t a fair request. I’ve only known her a handful of days. I don’t even plan on going back. But if somehow I do …
“I promise,” I say, meaning it.
Zane and I walk her to the boat, which sits there as if waiting for a command to be let loose again. We lay her inside. She looks up at me, on her back … and I can’t help but feel like I’m looking into a grave.
She grabs my hand again. “I believe you,” she says, tears slipping down her face. In her other hand, she holds on to the hilt of her sword. The purple gem sparkles.
The boat departs from the riverside, fighting upstream. Our fingers slip past each other. And it reminds me of the night I lost my sister.