Chapter 44
The echoes of the rumbling ocean grew louder by the minute. Marshen ordered me to stay by his side. He said that the noise and the smell of the seawater were overriding his senses. I could already tell he was concentrating by how often his pointed ears twitched. His odd silence, too, gave it away.
A wide cliff stretched out to our left, and I beamed, finally beholding it from afar.
I could see it in disturbed images—a blue horizon in between tall tree trunks.
Furious water crashed against the cliff expanse, sending trails of froth that sprayed into the blue sky.
And the closer we neared, the more I could see, smell, and feel the rush of the colossal waves.
It was majestic—a sensation of power, beauty, and freshness.
Then I flinched. It snuck up on me—an instant hit that reminded me of him. I realised then, what Aegir’s skin smelled like, what his mouth tasted like—his scent. The same scent I was so uncontrollably drawn to. It was this—the refreshing smell of sea mist.
Wait. Was this how I, too, smelled now?
Beyond those raging waves was Mistgeil Island. I could still make out its outline, despite the fog veiling most of its barren landscape. To our right were the woods. Most of the trees were lush and unburned, leaving a trail of green along my right vision.
Blue sea to my left and green terrain to my right.
“And when blue sea meets green terrain,
will the hidden truths be unchained.”
Hope fooled me. For a second, it made me believe that my answers were soon within my grasp. I even replayed the Seer’s haunting song in my mind. I remembered it by heart now.
“By the power of the lune and the main,
Nothing but the second shall remain,
All else hidden never to unveil,
Only when death is near—”
And as if my own thoughts summoned death itself, before our eyes—kneeling on the sun-kissed cliff, foreheads to the ground—were two dozen Naari soldiers.
Marshen and I stilled. We faced each other with wide eyes.
He only dared to tilt his head, motioning it to our right.
I gazed at the thick woods. We needed to hide, quickly, then sneak our way around.
We took small, silent steps. One eye on the soldiers—currently lost in worshiping and praying to their goddess, Pyrona—the other, on the path before us.
But one of the soldiers lifted his head. Shit!
The “Hey!” that growled out of the soldier’s throat made all heads turn.
We bolted into a sprint.
I knew Marshen was holding back, remaining at my side as I pushed my legs, forcing them not to falter.
We dodged trees, branches, and logs, but so did the Naaris.
Their snarls grew louder and nearer. The hissed sizzle of fire being wielded came from somewhere behind us, causing the hairs on my neck to bristle.
A jolting sensation ran through my body, similar to what I’d felt when Mounir chased after me—my dear friend, adrenaline.
“Can you wield ice?” I asked, my breath heavy.
“Nope.”
Fuck. We had to outrun them, then. But they were so fast. Three of them drew uncomfortably close. I had no choice but to nock an arrow. I memorised the land before me, then turned, letting the string go. The arrow struck the nearest soldier’s thigh. He tumbled to the floor.
“Nice trick,” Marshen said, grinning.
“They’re finite, you know. I don’t have enough for all,” I breathed, hitting another one in the knee. Only one drew dangerously close now.
“Then make each one count.”
He didn’t have to say that. My mind had already been replaying Aegir’s words: Do not fire unless you’re certain you’ll hit. Don’t waste any arrows, not even one.
I saw a clear path before me and I half twisted, my side facing the closest soldier. I aimed for his thigh. It went through his side.
Better than a miss, I told myself.
I begged my legs to keep on going, but my steps almost faltered when I realised the forest before us was shrinking, rock gradually encroaching on the trees. We were forced to veer left, scrambling ever closer to the Falls and to the intense sound of grumbling water.
At least I might make it to the Falls. But I’ll probably die there, burned in Pyrona’s flames.
My breaths sobbed as more soldiers drew near.
But I was swift, bringing down another two.
I went to reach for another arrow but found none.
Shit! I let go of the bow and hurled the quiver with a roar.
The soldier I aimed it at stumbled to the ground.
It was extra weight, I thought, so might as well. My focus was to run now, not to shoot.
Another three closed fast. Two, after I flicked one of my two daggers.
Marshen used his agility to take quick strides, then swiftly turned himself around, sword steady.
He halted, his feet planted into the terrain.
The soldier didn’t have time to stop. He ran himself through Marshen’s sword, chest first. Marshen slid it out of him, pushing the limp body off his sword using a booted leg. Blood trailed.
The other soldier, I quickly found out, was a Fire Wielder.
I was glad that I had my hair bound tightly in a coronet, as his fiery blow would have certainly burned all of it.
My bag took the hit. I couldn’t allow my waist sash to burn, so I shrugged the burning bag off my shoulders. Its lifted weight felt liberating.
The Wielder closed in. I went to reach for my other dagger, but Marshen used his sword as a spear and hurled it straight into the soldier’s neck.
I gave up two seconds of my precious time and pulled the bloodied sword out of his throat.
Then I tossed it up in the air. Marshen leapt and caught it by its hilt.
“Thanks,” he said, clicking his tongue as if we weren’t racing for our lives.
“No, no, no,” I mumbled beneath my breath.
Steep rocks abruptly replaced foliage and trees, turning the landscape into a harsh land of black and brown.
Climbing the sheer rocky cliff before us seemed impossible, even for Marshen.
And so we were forced into the open—along the cliff.
No trees remained to hide us, and more than a dozen pissed-off soldiers approached.
Mistgeil Island would’ve been considered close from up here, had there not been a sea of torment between us that made it seem like a faraway dream…and no, there was no bridge in sight. In other words, we were utterly fucked.
We took slow and steady steps, our backs to the cliff, Marshen’s sword lifted before him, arms held steady. My right hand was outstretched as well, clenching the dagger. My arm was bloodied down to my elbow, just as Marshen’s was. The blood wasn’t ours.
“Surrender or burn!”
And so I found myself on the edge of a cliff, my spine against Marshen’s, the back of his head resting on my crown. The name given to the sea beneath us was very appropriate. The spray of water—a minuscule fragment of the Depths—had us both soaked in seconds.
Marshen’s head repetitively tilted left to right as he shifted his gaze from the approaching Naari soldiers and the Wrathwater Depths. I knew he was weighing an impossible decision.
“I don’t know how to swim,” I said between heavy breaths.
“Everyone knows how to swim. You just have to keep your arms and your legs moving.” His tone was derisive as usual, but the way he swallowed and breathed did not give me the reassurance I needed. What was waiting for us was not a calm and serene bed.
“We won’t survive that,” I told him, and I believed it.
But we wouldn’t survive the Naari soldiers that were gaining on us either.
I could count more than twenty, some of whom were casually juggling fireballs on the palms of their hands, grinning in anticipation.
The bells that had clanged out earlier attracted more of them, and they came, like vultures circling towards a decayed carcass.
“You have nowhere to go, peacebreakers,” the soldier who was dressed like someone of higher rank bellowed. We’re the peacebreakers? “Put down your weapons! You’re to be delivered to the Fire King himself for your interrogation and execution.”
Lovely.
“I have to tell you something,” Marshen mumbled.
“Now is not the time for storytelling. What in the gods’ names are we going to do?”
“Put down your weapons and raise your arms. Now!”
We both hissed, reluctantly letting go of our weapons, as the metal hilts turned fiery hot against our palms.
“Shit,” I spat.
“I’m a shark,” Marshen whispered.
“What?”
“I can shift. We have to jump. Hold on to my fin, all right?”
“Fishing nets, my ass,” I grumbled.
I took another small step towards the slippery edge and Marshen imitated my move. And despite the turbulent turmoil beneath me, for a little less than a second, all of the fear left me and I took that instant as my opportunity to decide between possible death or sure death.
“Now,” I breathed as I took one giant stride into the sea of wrath, sending a silent prayer to Thalassa, begging her to be merciful, to calm the waters.
Marshen followed.
I instinctively took and held my deepest breath.
I imagined it would be my feet meeting the water first, but instead, I was hit all at once.
Two waves clapped, consuming me synchronously as if timing my entrance.
I was fully submerged, my mouth forcefully closed, my nose wrinkled.
I moved my arms and trashed my legs, pushing myself to reach the surface.
Fear returned—stronger than ever. It enveloped my whole body, just as the fierce waters did. I opened my eyes and clawed frantically against the sea.
I thought that was it, but then I felt something against my belly—something grey, something massive.
Marshen. I moved my desperate hands, hoping to grasp a fin.
There. I clenched both hands and firmly locked my legs against his sides.
My lungs ached and contracted, but I begged them to hold on. My head finally reached the surface.
Breathe.
I barely did. A mighty wave hit me so forcefully, I was smashed back-first into the water.
Marshen darted into the current. My chest slammed against his back and my hands seized his fin.
He swam us towards the surface once more.
I stole another breath, and this time I held it—and this time, I held on.
I latched onto Marshen like a parasite as the waves slammed over us.
And as soon as air replaced water, I snatched another breath.
For some time it was a looped dance of death, consisting of holding on for dear life, followed by a deep, vital breath between unyielding waves. I squinted my eyes against the rush of water as we moved through the mist.
Despite my efforts, the next wave hit me with both force and surprise.
It threw me back, smashing me into the turbulent water.
I tried to scrabble my way up, but as I was about to reach the surface, another wave struck me from above, pushing me back into the deep waters. My body moved as the current willed.
Opposite to what another person would feel towards a close encounter with a great white shark, I felt a glimmer of relief at Marshen’s approach. He looked fucking terrifying.
Marshen shifted into his male form and grabbed hold of my wrists, twisting himself around. He urged me to place my arms around his belly and my legs around his hips.
I felt his power—ice-cold—as he shifted beneath me.
I clutched him, holding on with as much force as my body allowed me to, knowing that I was only a few seconds away from my death.
We finally reached the surface and I grasped frantically for air.
The desperate noises my throat made—I could still hear them despite the relentless roars of the merciless sea.
Then we went into another battle against wrathful force and time.
My arms and thighs felt weaker with each passing second, my muscles ached, my strength ebbed. But adrenaline kept me going. It lent me strength I didn’t know I could summon and stifled my aches, exhorting me to hold on.
Marshen’s shark form was of considerable strength. His robust body propelled us incredibly fast as if predicting the erratic oscillations of the waves and acting gracefully in anticipation.
It was bittersweet—moving towards the island.
Bitter, because our visibility was gradually fading as we glided into the thickening heart of the white fog. Sweet, knowing we were concealed and drawing closer to land. I needed close. I was afraid I couldn’t hold on for much longer.
Marshen surged towards the surface and arched in a graceful leap.
We erupted gloriously from the crushing sea.
Breathe. But it turned out that the unforgiving sea wasn’t quite done with us.
It was too strong. Marshen’s strength wasn’t enough.
I wasn’t enough. I had barely managed to steal a quick breath when a ruthless wave hit our sides, sending us both back into the angry deep.
I lost my grip on Marshen, the stubborn waves moving me away from him.
I tried to tear the sea, to swim towards him, but the harder I pushed, the farther we were torn apart.
The current swept me away, and I again found myself surrounded by foamy sea.
I didn’t have time to choose. It was either I remained still—to conserve air before I was to meet my death—or exerted my body until my nearing last breath.
I fucking fought.
I kicked, pulled, and clawed against the sea.
My chest tightened and pulsed in desperation for air.
I beat and struggled just as my lungs did and I didn’t dare stop, until…
until I could no longer command my body.
My last couple of blinks were in hopes of glimpsing Marshen—my only chance of surviving this—but he wasn’t there.
I reluctantly surrendered myself. My eyes closed. But it wasn’t eerie darkness that swallowed me. It was him, his eyes, green of a forest, the last image my mind conceived before I drifted into the world of death.
I knew I wouldn’t be surviving this one.