Chapter 21 #2
Had there been a drop of decency in his veins, he’d have admitted defeat and apologised. For a single moment I thought he would – and then his face tightened again, the armour drawing back in place. ‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘You didn’t need to batter Valern halfway to hell either,’ I said with a scoff, ‘and I didn’t see that stop you. So what is your point?’
Not your ally.
We both knew the point.
But he’d hurled those words into my face after our very first day of travelling, after I’d made the foolish mistake of showing a glimpse of humanity and thanking him …
and we weren’t standing in a gilt inn room now, master and servant, prince and pauper.
I’d saved his life. He’d saved mine. The hunters on our trail had reduced both of us to prey.
And no matter how icily he averted his gaze now, the unguarded flicker in it was unmistakable.
He did not hate me.
A slumbering realisation, finally rising to the surface to punch me in the face – Durlain Averre didn’t hate me, and the rush of it was exhilarating, intoxicating, in ways I didn’t dare to examine too closely.
‘Are we crossing the river, then?’ I said.
He muttered a curse below his breath as he moved to dismount. ‘Did I mention your manners are absolutely appalling?’
I took that as a yes.
We took the bags off the horses’ backs and carried them over the bridge ourselves.
On the other side of the river, I untied my knives, took off my boots and tunic, and left them all there – feeling decidedly naked in nothing but my trousers and undershirt, but much preferring the temporary cold to riding in soaked clothes for the rest of the day.
Durlain stayed behind while I tiptoed back over the crumbling, swinging bridge, hissing curses at every sharp pebble caught beneath my bare soles.
By the time I reached the horses, a fire was burning on the east bank.
A promise of warmth; I’d almost call it thoughtful.
Almost, because when I tested the water of the Svala with my hand, it was so icy cold that the fire abruptly became the very damn least the bastard could do.
Didn’t matter. We had to cross, and that was the end of it.
For Lark.
The habitual reminder did little to boost my motivation, somehow. I led Smudge to the rocky riverbank, climbed into the saddle, and tried a cautious for me instead.
It felt traitorous, but it cheered me up considerably.
Smudge whinnied nervously when I nudged her forward, but she began wading in without much trouble, finding her steps carefully on the uneven riverbed.
The water was shockingly cold. It took all I had not to gasp as the first splash of it hit my bare feet, and we were nowhere near halfway yet; two more steps and my feet were solidly below the water level, five more and most of my calves had been swallowed as well.
If Durlain had not stood waiting on the other side, I’d have gasped by the time the cold reached the inside of my knees.
But we were halfway by then, and Smudge knew it too, her steps quickening as we rose from the water with every foot forward.
There was no suppressing my moan of relief as she clambered onto the riverbank – even the grey spring air seemed positively balmy compared to the icy water, and the glow of the fire was almost painful on my frigid skin.
One down.
One to go.
‘If you need to rest …’ Durlain started, voice a little stilted as he patted his horse dry swiftly and efficiently.
‘No need.’ My teeth clattered, making a mockery of that assertion, but there was no sense in taking the time to dry when I had to go back in. ‘You do owe me a mulled wine at our next stop, though.’
His brow rose. ‘You’d make a terrible negotiator.’
‘If that’s your way of telling me you’d happily offer me a barrel of mead,’ I said, turning towards the bridge again with cold, clumsy feet, ‘you still make a terrible human being. Back in a bit.’
He wisely didn’t argue.
By the time I mounted Pain on the west side of the river, the cold had turned into a biting ache and my patience had worn thin.
As if she knew it, my grey mare took three steps forward, then bluntly refused to step into the churning water before us – snorting at me in a tone that said, do I look like a bloody fish to you?
‘Pain in the arse, indeed,’ I told her, nudging her forward. No movement followed; I might as well have tried to ride an eighty-stone boulder.
Mists take her.
What to do? We could hardly turn back. Would it help to find a calmer place to cross? But the river came down from uneven highland on my left and narrowed again to my right. If this spot wasn’t safe enough, I doubted anything within an hour of riding would change the cursed horse’s mind.
On the other bank, barely two dozen feet away, Durlain stood watching us as though his glare alone could clear a path.
Different strategy, I decided, and climbed back down from the saddle.
With the reins in hand, I stepped into the ice-cold water myself, tugging Pain along.
That at least seemed to convince her; with a small, nervous whinny, she followed, grey legs warily feeling their way across the pebbles and stones.
I waded in beside her until the water reached my knees. Then I turned and stepped into the stirrup again, barely feeling the cold steel beneath my numb soles.
Pain immediately began to scramble back.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ I hissed – but this was a refusal, not a negotiation, and with my back against an Aranc-shaped wall, stubbornness was not a luxury I could afford.
Down again, then, into the icy river. Reins.
Step. Tug. I’d just walk her to the other side, then take Durlain up on that barrel of mead – it was barely a minute to cross, after all. How bad could it be?
Pain followed, grumpy but resigned. Within a few steps, water sloshed around my hips.
Twenty more, I promised myself through gritted teeth.
If I could take twenty more steps, I’d be safe and dry again – so on I walked, struggling against the current, biting away the cold that stung like needles into flesh.
The water found my stomach. My midriff. A splash hit my nipples through my undershirt, and I almost screamed with the shock of it.
I could no longer feel my toes.
The river yanked at my legs like a living thing, eager to drag me under.
I held on to Pain's reins for dear life, using her bulk as an anchor against the current.
Each step was a battle now, my numb feet slipping on the slick stones, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.
The water crept higher, lapping at my chest.
Halfway there.
Fifteen steps to go.
Forward, even if Pain trembled. Forward, even if my legs were dead weight, the cold so sharp it burned – forward, even if—
I slipped.
I faltered.
It happened too fast to cry.
I didn’t even feel the traitorous slide of my soles over stone. Just my knees buckling. Just the world tilting. A splashing arm, a staggering step—
And I went under.
Water closed around my head, dragging me into its ice-cold embrace.
For a single stunned moment, I no longer knew where I was, who I was, what in the mist-cursed world was happening – and then my shoulder hit a rock, stone digging into flesh, and the burst of agony cleared my mind faster than a slap to the face could have.
I flailed, kicked, thrashed against the current. Up, up, up—
What side was up?
There was nothing but blurring white and grey around me.
Panic tore into my lungs. I clawed at stones and mud, trying frantically to slow myself – but the current was stronger, glaciers’ worth of water thundering down half a mile of mountain slopes, and my fingers slipped and slipped and slipped again—
My chest burned.
The back of my head slammed into something hard, and a groan burst from my lips in a flurry of bubbles.
My ankle twisted. A lance of pain shot up my arm.
Black spots closed in on the edges of my sight, obscuring murk and icy blue – swim, I had to swim, but the current swept me along like a ragdoll, and a blow to my jaw sent my thoughts scattering …
Cold.
Black. Wet. Cold.
Some last survival instinct had my hands jerking at every surface, fingers twitching like dying animals. But night was rising behind my eyes. Strength was draining from my limbs. My mouth sagged open, and I tasted ice in the back of my throat.
I closed my eyes.
I saw Lark’s lifeless gaze, Kjell’s bleeding stumps. Fire blazing behind brambles.
And just as the darkness beyond opened wide to swallow me whole, a hand like iron closed around my wrist.