Chapter 17 #2
Syla flattened her hand to her spectacles and surprised Vorik by diving off Wreylith’s back and into the hole.
“Shouldn’t be surprised,” he muttered to himself, but would Syla have a chance at finding her aunt? Even with normal vision, it was hard to see underwater, and how would she swim without losing her spectacles?
Vorik released the railing, letting gravity take him toward the hole, and sheathed his weapons before he plunged into the water. He’d only meant to sink the marble structure, not kill the aunt, and what if Syla died?
As the chilly water enveloped him, the thought horrifying him, he swam downward.
Wood from the hull or broken deck snagged him, and he struggled to see through the wreckage.
Something with more give brushed his hand, the material from Syla’s dress.
She was right beside him, clinging to a beam and trying to make her way deeper, but a pack strapped over her shoulder must have made it more difficult to maneuver.
It had caught, and she couldn’t pull it free.
As Vorik unfastened it for her, he spotted the white marble of the platform, half blocked by the broken hull.
Leaving Syla, he swam downward. Even with daylight above and fires burning all around the ship, the water was murky, full of disturbed silt.
If the marble had been black, he never would have seen it, but he reached it, his fingers brushing the cold stone. But where was Tibby?
He swam under the canopy of the weapons platform, checking the posts, but she wasn’t clinging to them. His lungs started to burn, and he expected Syla must have returned to the surface for air, but she showed up beside him, hands groping, her face twisted in distress.
He patted her arm, having no idea if she recognized him or knew he was helping, and tried to point her upward.
Movement to the side caught his attention, and he didn’t wait to see if Syla took his suggestion.
He spun and peered through the cloudy silt, glimpsing the movement again.
There was Aunt Tibby, still alive and trying to pull herself out from under a section of the hull.
The wrecked ship had settled on the bottom of the river.
With powerful strokes, Vorik arrowed toward her.
If his lungs were burning, Tibby had to be close to drowning.
He reached her, gripped her under the armpits, and pulled.
But the entire weight of the ship seemed to be on top of her.
Losing precious air bubbles, he pulled again, but even he wasn’t strong enough.
Lungs now crying out for air, he drew his sword and hacked into the wood around her.
He’d created this awful situation, and he had to save Syla’s aunt.
If he didn’t… Syla wouldn’t forgive him.
She might not forgive him for this anyway, but sinking the weapon had been understandable.
Sinking a fifty-something woman who wasn’t even a combatant? No.
After sawing pieces from the hull, he was able to pull chunks away.
Muscles heaving, he finally freed Tibby.
Again, he grabbed her under the armpits.
He kicked as powerfully as he could, angling away from the ship and the docks, hoping to come up away from the fighting.
And hoping Tibby was all right. She kicked feebly, trying to assist him, so at least she was still conscious.
When they broke the surface, she gulped in so much air that she inhaled water too and coughed and coughed.
Vorik swam toward a beach upriver from the fiery docks.
Smoke bathed the surface, and he hoped no enemies would spot him, but the sounds of fighting had dwindled anyway.
If Tems had obeyed his order, the stormers were departing.
As Vorik paddled Tibby to the bank, he peered back through the smoke, trying to spot Syla.
He sensed Wreylith in the air, but she was flying toward the palace.
Distant booms came from there. Had Syla found a safe spot and sent the dragon to help there?
Lesva might be making her move at that very moment.
As soon as Vorik made sure Tibby was secure on land, he ran back into the river, diving and swimming toward the hull. He had to make sure Syla was all right. And the thought crossed his mind that, with the dragon distracted elsewhere, this might be his opportunity to kidnap her.
He swam around the wreck and burning wood in the water until he sensed…
yes, there she was. Though a human’s power wasn’t as significant as a dragon’s, hers was strong enough—bright enough—for him to detect.
And then she coughed, guiding him further, and he swam around the wreck to spot her clinging to a burning piece of a mast tangled in a torn sail.
“Syla,” he called, swimming toward her.
Her spectacles hung around her neck on a strap, and she peered blearily at him but rasped with recognition, “Vorik.”
She sounded like she’d inhaled half the river, and she coughed again, but there was relief in her voice. Given that he’d caused all this, there shouldn’t have been.
“I’m here.” Vorik swam toward her and pulled her from the log, kicking to angle them toward the bank.
Syla struggled weakly, as if not certain she should go with him. The pack remained slung over her shoulder and impeded her, but she didn’t peel it off. Oh, was that her medical kit? She wouldn’t want to lose that.
“Your aunt is safe,” Vorik added.
Syla slumped, letting him tow her. “Thank the gods.”
She coughed again, dragging a wet sleeve over her face to dash water and maybe tears from her eyes.
The current carried them downriver as Vorik swam, and he spotted the kayak, tangled in grass at the bank. He almost laughed that it had remained close for him.
“Over here.” Vorik paddled toward it, Syla not resisting him.
With her spectacles still around her neck, and her lungs busy expelling water with coughs, she probably wasn’t thinking about how he might have started all this. And he had. Feeling like an absolute jerk, he reached the kayak and held it steady.
“Climb in.” He gave Syla a boost.
Had there been a beach nearby, she might have left him to swim toward that, but the channel was deep downriver from the docks, the banks steep, and it would have been hard for her to pull herself out through the reeds and grass that grew to the edge.
Not struggling, Syla let him push her into the kayak, even grabbing the side to pull herself in.
Eyeing the sky as he tracked Wreylith with his senses, Vorik slithered in after Syla and grabbed the paddle.
Since the kayak only had one seat, it was awkward, with him kneeling behind her, but they didn’t have to go far.
He hunched low as he paddled, afraid archers would spot him and pepper him.
But when he glanced back, it appeared that most of the soldiers had been turned into firefighters to keep the flames from spreading into the city.
Since he didn’t see any of his own people, he hoped they’d gotten away. Most of them.
Vorik winced as he remembered the man who’d been enveloped and instantly killed by that weapon.
And he’d dived down and saved the life of the woman who’d launched it.
He shook his head but couldn’t regret that.
He hadn’t meant to kill Tibby, and the fact that he’d retrieved her was probably the only reason Syla wasn’t struggling against him.
She had to know he’d been involved in sinking the ship, and she might suspect he’d been completely responsible.
As the kayak arrowed down the river, Syla recovered enough to stop coughing and put her spectacles on.
“Vorik?” She looked at the bank as they passed it by. “Where are we going?”
“Would you believe I’d like to take you on a nature expedition to seek out rare birds and animals that inhabit this island’s lowlands?”
“You’re trying again to kidnap me.” She looked back upriver, her mouth drooping as she saw the black smoke and flames of her fleet from the water. The other ships blocked the view of hers—all that remained above the water was one of the masts—but she had to know it had sunk.
“It’s… my mission.” Vorik didn’t point out that it had been a self-appointed one. The alternative… hadn’t been acceptable.
Syla shifted on the seat and gripped the edges of the kayak. He tensed, expecting her to push herself overboard and try to swim away. But she looked toward the skyline instead.
“Wreylith is coming,” she said a second before he sensed the dragon on her way back. “When she said there were more explosions taking place at the palace, I sent her to check on Fel and Lady Abrya and her husband, but maybe that was a mistake.” Syla frowned back at him.
“Likely so,” Vorik said, sympathetic even if it had been advantageous for him.
It might not matter if Wreylith caught him before he escaped the barrier and reached Agrevlari. He paddled faster.
Syla didn’t try to fling herself out of the kayak. Vorik was glad, since it would have slowed him down if he had to pause to grab her, but it surprised him. Maybe she was certain Wreylith would catch them and could easily pluck her up. She wasn’t wrong about that…
Be ready, Agrevlari. Floating on the river’s current, with Vorik’s rapid paddling helping to speed them along, the kayak flowed out into the sea, but it would take time to reach the barrier and the green dragon flying back and forth outside it. We’re going to need to leave in a hurry.
A great roar came from above the rooftops of the city.
A big hurry. Vorik didn’t look back. He sensed Wreylith flapping her wings hard, coming for Syla—or coming to kill him.
I see that. You know I won’t be able to outfly her while I carry two and she has no rider, right?
I... was hoping you’d have a burst of adrenaline if you feared for your life. Why didn’t you bring any winged friends along?
You didn’t ask for any. I have asked Zandelek and Yelorindash to come quickly from the Island of Eliok.
How soon can they be here? Breathing hard as he paddled through the choppy waves beyond the river’s influence, Vorik peered across the sea, hoping to spot allies. As of yet, only Agrevlari was visible.
Not before Wreylith catches you and crushes you between her jaws.
That’s disappointing.
Another roar sounded. By the gods, the red dragon was scant yards behind them. Syla’s presence had to be the only reason Wreylith hadn’t spewed flames and roasted him. But she wouldn’t have any trouble snapping him up in her jaws.
He kept paddling but lowered himself and scooted closer to Syla, hoping Wreylith would have to be careful and that would make her slower. A hot wind blew across the back of his neck. Or was that dragon breath?
He’d almost reached Agrevlari, but they weren’t going to make it. He could tell.
He was on the verge of lifting the paddle and his hands to give up, but a screech of anger and frustration erupted right behind them.
Startled, Vorik looked back in time to see Wreylith fly backward, as if she’d hit a wall at top speed. No, he realized. She’d hit the barrier.
Syla gaped as Wreylith splashed down into the water, her expression promising that she hadn’t expected that any more than Vorik had.
Though confused—the barrier had let the dragon in, after all—Vorik reacted quickly, balancing on his feet on the kayak as Agrevlari soared overhead.
He leaped up, catching Agrevlari’s leg, then swinging himself onto the dragon’s back.
Syla shifted to lunge out of the kayak, but she’d waited too long. Agrevlari snapped her up in his jaws and tossed her into the air. She cursed and flailed, but Vorik leaned out and caught her, pulling her onto Agrevlari’s back with him.
Wreylith screeched again, but she was trapped inside the barrier as Agrevlari flew away.