Chapter 20 #2
My attention shifts back to Willem and Beric.
They've made it to another platform, though neither looks much better than before.
The men collapse onto the stone, breathing hard enough that I can see their chests rising and falling from here.
Whatever energy they spent reaching it doesn't seem to be returning.
If anything, they look worse.
Willem's hands shake violently as he braces them against the rock. Beric sits hunched forward, staring down at the water between his boots. Neither man speaks. Neither makes any move toward the next platform.
"They're staying put," Fenric says quietly.
I nod. Because what else can they do until it starts to sink again? The next platform is farther away than the last. It’s not impossibly far. It’s just far enough to require another stretch through the water. Another payment demanded by the swamp.
I watch Beric glance toward it. Then toward the distant shoreline. Then back down at the black water. The calculation on his face is obvious even from here. How much life will it cost me to reach the next stone? And if I spend it, will I have enough left to reach the one after that?
"They're waiting," I murmur.
"For what?" Fenric asks.
Nobody answers. Because I don't think there is one.
Perhaps they're hoping the platforms stop sinking. Perhaps they're hoping the swamp loses interest in them. Perhaps they're simply gathering the courage to step back into the water.
Until now, I'd been focused on reaching the other side. The swamp doesn't care about the other side. The swamp only cares about the next step.
And the next.
And the next.
Every platform represents another choice. Another gamble. Another time you willingly surrender part of yourself because turning back is no longer an option.
A thought occurs to me then, one so unpleasant I almost don't want to voice it.
"What if they can't make it?"
Fenric looks over. "What do you mean?"
I gesture toward the stranded knights. "What if they wait until they're rested and still aren't strong enough? What if they've already lost too much?"
The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
The possibility hangs in the air between us.
Willem and Beric are alive. But watching them huddled together on that tiny stone as it slowly sinks beneath the black water, neither man making any attempt to reach the next platform, I can't help wondering whether surviving is enough.
Because if they don't have the strength to move before it disappears beneath the surface, then they're already dead. They just haven't fallen into the swamp yet.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, before turning to the side and vomiting, in a rather unladylike manner, against the side of one of the trees.
Fenric appears at my side, rubbing my back, and Thorian offers me a cloth from inside his leather jacket.
“Sorry,” I say, embarrassed as I accept it and wipe at my face, feeling like a little girl.
“I would do that, too,” Fenric jokes, as I hand the cloth back to Thorian. “If I wasn’t so attached to the berries we had this morning.”
When I straighten up, my gaze skips over Thorian’s shoulder to the group of vampires on our other side. The Crimson Fangs.
Talon, my savior from the garden, stands tall on the edge, his blond hair pulled back haphazardly from his face.
When he sees me, he cocks his head and raises a single hand in my direction, like we’re old friends.
It makes my face flush, and I look quickly back to Thorian and Fenric, who, mercifully, didn’t seem to notice the interaction.
Vampires are strong, nimble, quick. They should be able to make it across just fine.
So why can’t I stop thinking about Talon, and worrying whether or not he’ll get across?
I bite down on my lip, trying to keep any soft thoughts about him away.
Trying not to think of a man on a different team.
If anything, I should be rooting for him to fall in.
It would be one less person to kill me in my sleep.
“Alright,” Thorian says, pulling me away from my thoughts and into a small huddle.
Fenric, Thorian, and I put our heads together, and Thorian lowers his voice like the other teams might hear us and steal our strategy.
“It’s obvious that we need to use those stones to get from one side of the swamp to the other, but they start to sink the moment you’re on them too long.
There’s not going to be enough time for us to go one after the other. ”
“We could try going quickly across from one rock to the next,” Fenric suggests, sweat forming along his brow, his eyes darting worriedly past Thorian to the place where solid ground turns soft and swampy.
“I don’t think that’s going to work,” Thorian says, glancing at me. “Even if we were all fast enough to make it across, those stones are too far apart to jump from one to the next.”
Nobody speaks.
The sun continues its slow descent toward the horizon, turning the sky shades of gold, violet, and deep crimson.
The swamp seems darker now than it did before, the black water swallowing the reflected light instead of returning it.
Every minute that passes is one less minute before darkness falls, and after seeing what happened to Cedric, I have no desire to discover what hunts this place at night.
“We need a plan,” Fenric says quietly.
“We do,” Thorian agrees.
His gaze remains fixed on the swamp, studying the platforms and the water between them. Mine does too. Every time I look at the black surface, I see Cedric sinking beneath it. I hear those screams. The thought of stepping into that water makes my stomach twist.
Finally, Thorian exhales sharply.
“Let's start with the obvious. Nyx can't go into that water.”
The statement is delivered without cruelty. Without judgment. It’s simply fact.
I hate it anyway.
“Why not?” Fenric asks.
“Because she's human.” Thorian keeps his eyes on the swamp.
“Whatever curse is in that water tears through human life the fastest. Supernaturals can withstand it longer.
The stronger the magic in your blood, the more resistant you are.
I'll last longer than either of you. Fenric will last longer than Nyx. But none of us are immune.”
I appreciate him not mentioning my abilities. Especially because there’s no way they’d be useful for this. My powers still require a lot of concentration, which I wouldn’t have while racing across a swamp that’s actively trying to kill me. Still, I’m not totally useless as is, am I?