Chapter Forty Four
EINAR
The waves mocked Einar as he stood on the railing, considering what would happen next.
All of his life, he’d swum without fear because the ocean held nothing a cocky soldat orphan couldn’t escape from.
They trained him to like it. The unknown, the fear.
Giant creatures like mammoth squid, octopus, dervishes, and other horrors gave little concern.
They inhabited the deepest depths, the outer reaches, and he had no business there.
Today, the ocean held threatening shadows, annihilation.
A siren-like song called him into the cool moisture, lessening when he touched the waves. He sighed in relief as his skin soaked up the sea. The temptation to glide lower and never leave nearly yanked him down, but he paused to assess it.
What was that urgency?
The same persuasion issued from the sky in a twirling wind that surged past. He longed to soar. Einar drew in deep breaths.
Did he smell soil?
Impossible. Not a hint of land remained within sight.
His imagination pulled all kinds of tricks to distract him.
He didn’t release the sensation right away, though.
All of it gave him a heady sense of power and anticipation.
He needed every edge he could find. Growing up on an island didn’t equate with invincible lungs.
He could hold his breath longer than most, but that didn’t make it sufficient.
Mila held out her hand, grasping Einar’s. He huffed thready breaths, loosening his ribs, and brought Agnes to mind. Her image, her smell, rekindled his courage. All fear dissipated. However this ended, he’d be closer to her. He supped at the air, chest expanding, before he looked at Mila.
She nodded.
They plunged into the frigid sea.
Einar swam with all the skill his body contained.
He paddled his feet, stroked his arms. He narrowed his body with the momentum, and forced his way deep, deep, deeper. As the chilly depths rose to meet him, his ears screamed. Equalizing them without sacrificing speed, the pain gave way to relief. On he plunged, through the curling and twining sea.
Overwhelming, but wonderful. A second home, beckoning. He replied, and the sea welcomed.
He opened his eyes to glazed seawater that burned like hot pokers. He blinked. The discomfort didn’t subside. As they plunged into nether layers, Mila was little more than shadowed movement. He ignored the initial urge to release air for as long as he could. Onward Mila swam, surprisingly steady.
Einar settled in with Agnes on his heart.
He counted to ten, released a bubble. Ten more strokes before he’d release again. Expelling air was more powerful than most gave it credit for.
Those ten strokes executed, he freed another minimal amount. The chilly waters shocked his face, his toes. Einar battled on, freeing too much air when he lost sight of Mila. It felt good. Oh, so good.
He held onto the rest. If he let it all go too soon . . .
He fought forward, chanting Agnes’s name in his thoughts.
Agnes.
Agnes.
Oh, he fought.
For the first time since losing her, Einar opened his memory vault.
The chest spilled forth, distracting him from the restricting agony and his burning chest. Agnes soared around his head with giggles, warmth.
The brutal memory of kissing her, with her snuggly frame pressed into his, surrounding him. Fully surrounding him.
While he pushed through the black, he remembered her kiss, her full lips.
Without her, he was nothing.
His chest tingled along the sides, so he released a dribble of air to remain in control and paddled onward. Meanwhile, Captain Arvid barked at him from distant memories.
Fear is your enemy. Fear will control you. Fear will tell you to survive. You will survive, but not because of fear. Because of control. You wrap fear in your fist and shut it up. Then, you execute whatever task survival demands.
Einar obeyed.
He could do it. Another controlled deluge of bubbles streamed from his lips, buying five seconds. Fuzzy darkness surrounded them. The water burned and panic surged.
Nothing lay ahead. Only oblivion.
Mila’s fingertips brushed his arm, but he didn’t know why. Wasn’t she supposed to be ahead? Or was that Mila? It could have been a fish. Paranoid, he whirled in a circle and saw nothing.
Confusion gripped him. Had he slowed? Changed directions? Henrik and Britt surfaced to the top of his mind, but that made no sense, either. Why them? He hadn’t considered Henrik in days. Selma, Henrik’s mother, and all she’d told Einar of his parents, followed.
The burn became fire. Agony replaced panic and rolled into urgency. Breathe, instinct demanded. Must breathe.
He kicked, using precious energy to go nowhere. Momentum failed. He couldn’t start again. Or did he swim in a circle? Mila touched the small of his back, but it didn’t make sense. What was she telling him?
His hands fluttered instead of stroked. The frigid feeling in his skin seeped to his bones. While he fought the urge to inhale, to suck it all into his chest, he understood that this is what he had to give.
All.
Everything.
His locomotion became paltry in comparison to his earlier speed, but he forced himself to continue. Darkness tunneled into his mind. His thoughts became a tight sleeve that threatened to take over.
He clawed through the water.
For Agnes.
For Pedr.
For himself.
No matter what happened in the next minute of his life, he would finally find Agnes again. Five minutes of pain would be worth joining her . . . there. His scalp tingled, sweeping in a flow from the base of his neck to his temple.
He stopped moving.
As a deepening darkness took over, a hard force wrapped his arms and propelled him forward. He released the last hint of air from his lungs, jetted into something hard, and spun. A sucking sensation pulled him.
His back slammed firm ground.
The sea vanished.
Blessed, open air welcomed him.
Like a rebirthing, Einar sucked in a deep breath.