Chapter Twenty-Seven
Like before the first two Trials, Kiva’s pulse was pounding in her ears as she approached her third.
Unlike the immense quarry she and Naari had visited over a fortnight ago, the abandoned one was significantly smaller in width, but was said to possess a considerable depth, with workers having mined deep into the earth before the luminium was eventually depleted.
It was impossible to judge how far down it went, since years of rainstorms and underground springs had fed into the open mine, filling it with water.
Kiva hadn’t considered the quarry for her third Ordeal, having forgotten it even existed. She was kicking herself now, scrambling to guess what her task might involve and whether Mot’s potion would still help.
As the Warden led Kiva to the top of the cliff overlooking the pit, some distant part of her couldn’t help thinking it was beautiful.
The water was a brilliant turquoise color, the limestone and other minerals having bled into it, with a hint of glitter on the surface from traces of leftover luminium.
On a summer’s day, it would have called to her, begging her to take a dip.
But right now it was still winter—and unlike the aquifer, which was kept temperate from the tunnel heat, there was ice crusting the edges where water met stone.
Kiva wasn’t sure which was worse: how cold that water must be or that there was no telling what was hidden beneath it. Submerged rocks, deserted mining equipment, mineral toxins ... the list of dangers was endless.
“Move,” Rooke said, gesturing for Kiva to keep following as he headed off along the rocky path. “We’ve a little further to go.”
Kiva tried not to look at the prisoners surrounding the edges of the quarry, the three thousand–odd people who were staring down into the water and waiting to see what would happen next.
The anticipation in the air was palpable, even more so than before her Trial by Fire.
Excitement ... Anger ... Resentment .
.. Jealousy ... Hope ... It was a heady melange of emotion, something the guards must have felt as well, since the ones Kiva could see interspersed among the prisoners had tight grips on their weapons.
Danger, Kiva’s mind warned. Danger!
But she couldn’t give a second thought to her audience, not when every part of her was beginning to tremble with dread.
All she knew was that Jaren, Tipp, and Mot were up there somewhere, willing her to stay alive.
She wondered if they were more or less anxious than she, being made to witness, yet helpless to act.
When Rooke finally came to a stop, they had traveled perhaps halfway down the quarry from where they’d started.
There was still a sheer cliff between her and the surface of the water, which Kiva guessed was between fifty and a hundred feet away, but it was hard to tell with the disillusioning turquoise color and its reflecting stillness.
“Kiva Meridan,” Rooke said in a loud voice, the words echoing around the stone and up to the awaiting prisoners and guards who surrounded the quarry. “Today you will face your third Ordeal, the Trial by Water. Do you have any last words?”
Kiva wished he would stop asking that before each Trial. What was she expected to say?
But then she remembered that she did want to say something, and she looked at Naari, trying to communicate with her. In return, the guard gave the slightest of shrugs to say she didn’t understand.
Knowing she was running out of time, Kiva turned back to Rooke and shook her head, still thinking madly about how she might steal a moment with Naari before the Trial began.
Rooke was oblivious to how distracted she was and proceeded to reveal what she would have to do. “The average person can hold their breath underwater for up to two minutes.”
Kiva froze, but Rooke wasn’t finished.
“The record is half an hour.” The Warden paused, before sharing, “But that man suffered irreparable damage afterward, and complications that later led to death.”
Depriving the brain of oxygen for so long ... Kiva was amazed the record holder had survived at all, let alone lived for any length of time until his complications set in.
“To pass today’s Trial,” Rooke continued, “we’ve taken those times into consideration, along with the temperature of the water.
As such, you’re to be weighted down and sent into the quarry, where you’ll remain submerged for a total of fifteen minutes.
” He kicked a limestone boulder resting at his feet, and the coiled rope attached to it.
“At that point, we’ll pull you back up. If you’re still alive, you’ll have succeeded. ”
Kiva only remained upright because Naari took her arm in a pincer-grip, the pain from her nails all that kept Kiva’s vision from succumbing to the panicked black dots creeping in at the edges.
Fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes .
Not once had Kiva considered whether she’d have to hold her breath underwater, not even when she’d envisioned all the scenarios involving the aquifer.
She’d thought she would be swimming, not submerged .
And while she knew there were free-divers who could hold their breath for that long, most notably the fish farmers off the coast of Albree and workers in the Grizel Catchment, she was not one of them.
The only experience she had was playing in the river as a child, where she’d gone for perhaps a few minutes at a time—enough to worry her parents, but no longer than that.
Fifteen minutes ... It was impossible .
Kiva couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but she wished Princess Mirryn or Prince Deverick could have found a way to help her again, despite Rooke’s warning about no more interference.
Even if Mirryn didn’t have any water magic, she could have helped in some way.
And Deverick ... well, Kiva assumed he didn’t have any water magic either, since he already had air and fire, like his sister.
But still . Any elemental magic was better than the nothing Kiva had.
Not even Mot’s potion would help her—without having to swim for her life, she wouldn’t be facing muscle fatigue and cramps.
What she really needed was an elixir to make her breathe underwater, and that, she knew, didn’t exist.
Kiva was a survivor. But ... for this Trial, she feared that wasn’t going to be enough.
“Do you understand your task?” the Warden asked.
Kiva couldn’t reply verbally, so she nodded, and looked down over the cliff into the quarry again. Her head spun with the realization that they weren’t hiking any lower, that it was from this height she would be falling into the water.
“Guard Arell, would you do the honors?” Rooke said.
Kiva’s heart leapt in her chest as Naari loosened her pincer-grip and moved into a crouch, reaching for the coiled rope and tying the end closest to the boulder around Kiva’s ankle.
Realizing this was her last—and perhaps only—chance, Kiva waited until Rooke was issuing a command to one of the other guards before she bent and whispered in Naari’s ear, “It’s poison, Naari.
They’re not sick, they’re being poisoned . ”
She didn’t have time to say more, to explain about Olisha and Nergal and the “immunity booster,” because Rooke turned back and narrowed his eyes at her, asking, “What was that?”
“I told her she’s hurting me,” Kiva lied. “The rope is too tight.”
“It needs to be tight,” Rooke said. “We can’t have you undoing it while you’re down there. And besides, how will we fish you back out if it slips off?”
Kiva didn’t respond. But she did look at Naari as the guard slowly rose, her amber eyes alight with understanding. And horror.
“You’re sure?” Naari breathed.
Kiva looked at Rooke, then back at the guard. “Yes.”
“I told you, it needs to be tight,” Rooke growled, oblivious to Naari’s true question and Kiva’s answer.
The Warden grabbed Kiva’s shoulder and pointed to the boulder, indicating for her to pick it up.
When she did, uttering a quiet “oof?” at the solid weight of it in her hands, he seized the other end of the rope and shuffled her toward the edge of the cliff.
A sound similar to a collective indrawn breath came from the audience above.
“I’m not sure how deep this is,” Rooke said, scratching his short beard as he looked down at the water.
“Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself.
” His voice lowered so that only she could hear, the smallest hint of empathy in his tone, but Kiva knew better than to believe it was for her—he was just worried about losing his best healer.
“This is the part where you hold your breath. Ready?”
No. Kiva wasn’t ready. She would never be ready.
But she didn’t have a choice, so she quickly called to mind everything she knew about lung capacity and controlled breathing, and slowly began to hyperventilate.
She knew doing so could reduce her blood pressure enough to cause hypoxic blackout, but if she couldn’t expand her lungs before entering the water, she was going to fall unconscious soon enough anyway.
She had to do everything she could to give herself a fighting chance.
If free-divers could do it, maybe she could, too.
She had to at least hope there was a possibility of success, otherwise she might as well give up now.
“On three,” Rooke said.
Kiva focused on her breathing, vaguely aware of Naari stepping up beside her, the guard trembling slightly—whether from what Kiva was about to face, or the poison reveal, Kiva wasn’t sure.
She didn’t have any room left in her to be afraid, couldn’t spare the oxygen required to feed her anxiety. All she could do was breathe .
“One,” Rooke said.
Kiva inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled.
“Two.”
This was it.
Kiva filled her lungs, sucking in more and more air, her diaphragm extending to the point that it was painful, lightheadedness making her vision spin.
“Three.”
The Warden shoved Kiva from behind, and she struggled to keep her mouth closed on the air she’d so carefully trapped, every part of her wanting to scream as she plummeted down the side of the cliff face and—
Splash!
Into the water.
The shock of it had her dropping the boulder, her hands rising to cover her mouth, her nose, as she was pulled under, under, under .
She could barely process the pain of her body slapping into the surface, the height of her fall nearly forcing the breath from her.
But she didn’t yield it, nor did she release anything but the smallest of bubbles as she descended down into the quarry depths, the turquoise water turning darker the lower she was pulled, the sun struggling to penetrate this deep.
Kiva felt as if her ears were bleeding, the pressure of her swift descent like daggers stabbing into her brain. And the cold— the cold .
She hadn’t noticed in those first few seconds, adrenaline and pain from her brutal landing driving away all thoughts other than to keep holding her breath, but as that shock faded, a different kind of shock set in.
The water was like ice.
Fifteen minutes—it was too long, too deep, too cold.
A hollow echo sounded, and Kiva jolted to a stop, the boulder having finally thudded against the bottom of the quarry, or perhaps some fortunately placed outcropping that kept her from sinking further.
It didn’t matter. She was still too far down, the water around her dark enough that she struggled to see anything but blurry, distorted shapes. No one watching from above would be able to see anything, with tons and tons of water blocking their vision of her.
Cold—she was so cold .
Kiva released another few bubbles, her lungs already begging for fresh air.
She drew her arms in and hugged herself, as if doing so would help retain her body heat, but it was useless.
The frozen water was piercing straight into her flesh, into her bones.
Her extremities were already beginning to turn numb, all of her blood rushing inward to protect her vital organs, her heart, her brain.
Perhaps Mot’s potion was helping her, but it wasn’t enough.
Her body buckled, like she was coughing, but still she didn’t release more than a few bubbles, knowing she couldn’t let more go, with nothing for her to inhale.
Fifteen minutes.
She had no idea how many had already passed. No idea how many she had left.
No idea how she was going to last much longer.
She couldn’t feel her fingers. Couldn’t feel her toes. She felt like she was burning, the cold so biting that her nerves were on fire.
Breathe! her body screamed at her. brEATHE .
She couldn’t.
There was no air.
There was no air .
Kiva buckled again, suffocation beginning to forfeit her control. This time she couldn’t stop the stream of air that fled her lungs, nor her natural reaction to try and inhale more.
No.
No .
She was choking now, water flooding down her windpipe in place of oxygen.
Coughing and choking and coughing and choking, water filling her lungs, filling her stomach as she accidentally swallowed it, all of the air that she’d carefully guarded now gone.
The numbness was spreading, her arms and legs like senseless weights.
And the darkness—it was growing, her vision blackening as her body buckled, buckled, buckled .
Torture, it was torture .
And then it was over.
The fight left her.
Oblivion took her.