Mystic: A Book of Underrealm (16 page)

Loren hesitated, but they had come too far to turn back now. She removed her cloak and folded it into her pack while Xain and Annis did likewise. Slowly, she waded out into the river. Summer had warmed the waters from spring’s chill, but still the cold almost took her breath. She waved her arms back and forth, trying to warm her blood.

“Now we will give you air,” said Bubble.
 

Together, he and Stream lifted the bowl and placed it over Loren’s head. In another moment, Bubble’s face popped into view beneath her, even as he held tight to the rim.

“Go farther into the water. Your air will come with you.”

Loren swallowed and forced herself to take a step deeper into the river. Then another. The water stayed at her chest, leaving her head and shoulders in open air within the bowl. A thrill shot through her, and she took yet another step. The water must have been over the top of the bowl, though not so much as a drop fell upon her head. She was shrouded in darkness and could not see an inch in front of her nose.

She heard Bubble splash into the water. “You see? Now turn around, and go back to the others.”

Loren turned—it was hard to maintain her sense of direction when she could see nothing—and retraced her steps. Soon, the bowl raised up and over her head, and Loren found herself in the open air upon the shore. She shivered as the night’s breeze struck her soaked breeches.

“It works!” she cried out, before remembering to whisper. “The air stays inside, and you can breathe. Like magic.”

“Not magic. Bubble only knows the way to craft things water cannot enter. Many wurts know the skill.” The wurt’s modesty was only slightly less charming coming from his pointed teeth and white, lidless eyes.

“You expect me to climb into that thing?” said Annis. Her voice had grown shrill and raspy, and she clutched her arms in a panic.

Loren’s face fell. She had forgotten. Annis feared any dark confined space. She had nearly been useless in the Cabrus sewers, unable to move without constant goading and guidance.

“I will come with you,” said Loren. “We will do it together.”

“No!”
Annis cried, now forgetting herself completely. Loren started and looked up at the top of the wall, but no watchful faces emerged. “I will not climb willingly into that death trap!”

Before Loren could respond, Gem came between them and rested a hand on Annis’s shoulders. He looked into her eyes, holding them until she returned his gaze. “Let me, then. You remember what I taught you beneath Cabrus? Breathing. Everything is in your breath. I will teach you again, reminding you as we pass beneath the gate together.”

“I . . . I cannot . . .” said Annis.

“You can,” said Gem. “Slow. In. And out. Come—do it for me now, as practice.”

Annis took one long, slow breath in, and then released it in a heavy sigh. In and out. Once more, and Loren saw some of her fear drain away, like water from a twisted rag.

“Good,” said Gem. “You can do that a few more times while we take a night’s stroll on the riverbed?”

Annis shook her head, but the conviction had left her. “I am still frightened.”

“We live our lives frightened,” said Gem. “But still we must go on.”

Annis did not answer. Loren could see her shoulders shaking beneath Gem’s fingers. But finally, the girl nodded, a quick, furtive movement.

“Good. Now I will go first to show you it is safe. Gem, bring Annis after me. Xain, you will come last.”

The wizard nodded. Loren gave Annis a quick hug and a reassuring smile before stepping back into the shallows.

“Remember, come as quickly as you can,” she told Annis. “And close your eyes if it helps.”

“It certainly will not,” said Annis. “Just go, so we may get this over with.”

Bubble and Stream raised the bowl and placed it over Loren’s head. She walked forward, and soon the water passed over the top. Darkness swallowed her.

The ground grew slicker the farther she went until Loren sank up to her ankles with every step. The bowl kept the water around her thighs, and she could place her hands on either side to hold her steady footing. It swirled as it passed, but there was not enough to matter. After many steps, the bowl moved to Loren’s right.
 

Bubble is guiding me.

She turned with the motion, and now Loren’s steps carried her to where she knew the rivergate waited.

Her breath came hard, and she felt lightheaded without knowing why. Each step grew difficult, and she put her hands on the bowl to keep from falling. When it suddenly stopped, Loren nearly bumped her head.

She heard a splash as Bubble’s head poked out of the water by her legs. “Bubble has made a mistake. The air is too large to pass under the gate. You will have to swim from here.”

“Swim?” Something about that bothered her, though Loren could not remember what. Her mind spun, and she could scarcely consider Bubble’s words. Spots of light danced before her eyes, like stars underwater. Her lungs burnt.

“Swim forward. You will feel the gate. Pass beneath it, and then swim up.”
 

“Which way is up?” said Loren, but Bubble had vanished already. Then, without warning, the bowl began to rise around her.

Loren almost panicked before she felt Bubble’s hand on her arm. The wurt pushed her forward, and as she thrust her hands out they encountered the rivergate iron. She used it to pull herself under. Her lungs screaming, Loren pushed from the river floor as hard as she could.
 

Up and up she rose, bouncing off the gate in her ascent.
 

The world grew lighter.
More spots in my eyes,
she thought, until she realized they were stars.
 

Her head broke the surface, and Loren sucked in a deep mouthful of air. The river hurled her against the rivergate, and she did not resist, sitting in the current, sucking in the sweetest air of her life.
 

After a moment, Loren came to herself and opened her eyes. Thankfully, no one stood anywhere near. Like Redbrook, Wellmont had built stone walls along the river’s edge, with docks for small boats. But no one patrolled those docks, and the only fires came from wall-mounted torches and lanterns. No one in Wellmont feared entry through the river—the gate was too strong.
 

Loren paddled towards the closest dock, keeping her movements slow and soft to avoid a splash that might alert the guards.

She had crossed half the distance to the dock when she remembered something—her struggling thought when Bubble told her she must swim:
Gem.

She froze in a panic. The boy could barely tread water.
 

But Bubble would tell them all the bowl was too large, and then he and Gem would work out a plan, wouldn’t they?
 

What if they did not? What if Gem died below the rivergate, his body sinking like a rock to the bottom?

Loren looked at the water. She did not know how deep the river was, but she had to try to reach the rivergate bottom, or Gem might perish.

She took a breath and readied herself to dive, but lost her nerve at the last moment. She gasped again, and this time she plunged into the blackness of the water.

Struck by a thought, Loren seized the rivergate’s iron grating and used it to pull herself down. That, combined with her swift kicking, propelled her forwards at a reasonable speed.
 

Down and down she dove, hoping she kept the right direction and that Bubble did not bring Gem to some other part of the gate. But the river seemed bottomless. With each outstretched hand, she expected to touch its silty bed but found only more water.

For a moment, she thought of surfacing and trying again. But the thought of Gem drowning propelled her.
 

Again, she felt dizzy, her head light, the darkness around her impenetrable.

Her hand reached for the next rung and found nothing.
 

Loren had reached the rivergate bottom.

She pulled herself underneath. She could not wait for Gem to appear. She must surface or drown.
 

As she seized the gate and prepared to launch upwards, Loren felt something strike her leg. A fish? She reached towards it. It struck her again—mayhap a limb. The limb slipped from her grip. She used the gate to pull herself along, reaching again. This time she found it—a wildly flailing arm. She seized it and pulled, trying to drag the person under the gate. Gem or Annis, it made no difference; it was a child’s size, and panicking for certain.

The figure fought her, but somehow she managed to drag it beneath the rivergate. It took nearly every ounce of strength. Loren used what little she had left to pass underneath the gate herself.

The spots in her eyes became a milky white film. Everything grew white, a faint glow of tranquility.
 

She tried swimming for air, but her limbs could not move.
 

Why should they? Floating was so peaceful.
 

Each limb drifted of its own accord, bouncing against the rivergate in a beautiful dance.

White turned to black, and Loren knew no more.

nineteen

LOREN AWOKE AND FOUND ONLY pain.

It burnt in her chest, and it attacked her throat as a fountain spouted forth. She hacked and coughed, but the water flowed of its own accord whether she tried to breathe in or out.
 

Why did it keep flowing? She needed to
breathe.

The last drops finally slipped out, and Loren sucked sweet life from the air. It still burnt, but now she did not mind. She rolled onto her stomach, coughing until she thought her heart might stop. Saliva spattered the wood beneath her, followed by bile as she vomited. A sour, bracken taste washed across her tongue as the day’s fish fled her stomach in a rush.

“Steady on!” cried Gem. “You nearly got my feet.”

“Be silent, boy!” Xain growled.
 

Loren felt strong hands roll her over and pull her into a sitting position. Someone struck her back again and again, pounding her until the vomit halted and she could finally breathe. Loren tried telling them to stop but could only croak. She wanted to push the person away, but her hands flailed uselessly against them. The effort nearly made her faint again, and she collapsed into the person’s arms, feeling her vomit-soaked lips soil their clothes. She found it impossible to care.

“You are all right. You are alive. Can you sit up?”

She did not know the answer at first, nor who was speaking. She did not understand the simple words. Slowly, they became clear in her mind. Almost she fell over again, but by placing a hand on the ground to either side she managed to stay upright.

“I am all right.” Her voice sounded awful, like some vile creature from a horrible tale.

“Hardly,” said Xain.
 

Loren looked up at the wizard and saw the last remnants of light fading from his eyes. Magic. “You saved me?”

“Something I learned upon the sea. Moving the water from a person’s lungs is not so difficult, once you know how.”

“I . . .” She dissolved into a fit of coughing. “Thank you.”

“I am sure I had little to do with it,” he said gruffly. “Death avoids you like a leper.”

As her head cleared and she looked up to see Gem, Loren slowly remembered what had happened. The darkness of the river. The rushing waters. A flailing, grasping hand.

Gem stood there, soaked but safe, a curious light in his eyes. Bubble crouched not far away, at the edge of the stone wall rimming the river. But Annis . . .

“Where is Annis? Did she survive?”

“She is alive,” said Xain. “Though hardly unharmed.”

He pointed, and Loren followed his gaze. They were several paces from the city wall. Against it, sitting in shadows cast by nearby torches, Loren saw Annis. The girl seemed slight and shrunken. Her cheeks were wet from the river, made wetter still by the tears that poured from her eyes.

“Annis! Are you all right?”

Loren tried to stand, but her limbs betrayed her and she collapsed to the cobblestones. She had to move in a sort of sliding crawl, slithering along the ground like a snake.

“Do not!” Annis stood and ran to Loren’s side, helping her sit up again. “I am fine, unhurt. Only, what I did . . . you almost . . .” She could not speak more and bent her head to bury her face.

“This one grew frightened beneath the rivergate.” Bubble had not spoken since Loren awoke, but now he hobbled closer on all fours. “Both children grew mad, screaming at Bubble and Stream in the water. Bubble decided to push them under the gate and chose the smaller child. Stream was supposed to move this one, but he swam away when she struck him in fear.”

The wurt hung his head, clearly ashamed.

“I was surrounded by blackness,” said Annis through her tears. “I thought I would drown there, and I could not find anything to save me. Then I felt your arm—though of course I did not
know
it was yours. I thought it was some
thing
come to seize me in the darkness. I fought until I felt the gate, and I swam for the top, but you . . .”

“I am fine.” Loren reached out and dragged Annis into an embrace. The girl’s clothing was clammy against her skin, but Loren did not care.
 

“I would have died were it not for you,” said Annis. “I will never forget that.”

“All quite silly, if you ask me,” said Gem. “I did not think it so bad when Bubble carried me.”

“Stream has done a great evil,” said Bubble, head still bowed. “Bubble is sorry. Bubble will ensure the masters know what Stream has done. They will punish him.”

“As well they should,” said Annis, some of her tears turning to anger. “He nearly got me killed!”

Bubble flinched, shrinking like a wilting flower. Loren put a hand on the wurt’s shoulder and spoke calmly. “What is done is done, Bubble. You must forgive him. He was probably as frightened as Annis when she attacked him. And without you, we would be starving beyond the walls of Wellmont. Please, speak nothing of this to your people, and tell Stream that we are all right.”

Bubble’s head lifted slightly. “You . . . Bubble does not know the word.”