Searching for any signs of a sneaky rip, I started the count to fourteen. I’d coast along the bridge of rock, avoid the messy backwash in the middle, then ride the waves into the shallows. Daring one more glance at a very confused Nemuik, I leapt.
The soles of my feet sliced through the water first, the icy shock freezing me to my core as my legs, chest, head, and the rest of my body joined the frigid world beneath the surface.
Unrelenting pressure suddenly pushed me down, as if a wave had broken over me. But that was impossible. The next set wasn’t for another twelve seconds.
I had timed it perfectly.
Another blast from above yanked at me. The force was so strong it thrust my mouth open, water rushing down my throat. Clamping my jaw shut, I wiggled my toes, dipping for the sandy bottom, scraping against… nothing. A twinge of panic seized my muscles. I was way too close to the shore for it to already be this deep.
Something brushed my arm—something slimy, something quick. Maybe a harbor seal, or a tangled bulb of kelp, or a more chilling thought: a soul.
The Wizard’s words echoed loud and clear in this weird abyss: They say it’s haunted by te souls of those who are lost at sea.
Seaweed tickled my wrist—or was it a limb? Flinching, I waved it off, bubbles whirling around me. A thicker object brushed my ankle. Another curled around my hand.
Air slipped through my teeth in a steady stream. My lungs were aching. But something was definitely there. Its touches felt purposeful—like prodding fingers.
I opened my eyes. They burned at the salt.
Impenetrable black surrounded me. I’d been thrashing at nothing, wasting my oxygen on nothing. But the longer I stared into the murk… the more it seemed to stare back.
Screaming faces morphed out of the shadows, curious hands seemed to reach from the whirling grit, a haunting presence dragging me down, down, down to where there should have been sand, but there was nothing except darkness.
Light flickered in the corner of my eye. I swung my head in its direction, my slitted gaze snagged on the leather hooked to my waist, the clasp undone, waving like seagrass in the current. The crystal of the dagger.
Feeling had started to leave my limbs. My pulse had started to slow. But I reached for the sheath, the movement sluggish, out-of-body, as if I were watching myself.
My fingers fumbled with the flap, barely bending to grip the steel. The longer I struggled, the more if felt like I was becoming a phantom, and the phantoms were becoming… real.
They grabbed at my arms, my legs, their hollowed eyes hungry, pleading, their murmurs mixing with the turbulent whooshes of the tide.
We cannot bear the sound of your beating heart, they seemed to say. Come, live with us in ruin, and whisper the songs of the sailors. Don’t be scared…
But I was. I was so, so scared. And maybe that’s what drove me to swath the weapon through the water, through ghostly muscle and incorporeal limbs. Fear made me fight against whatever supernatural force was pushing me into the depths.
A spark of warmth stuttered in my chest. A flare of magic—a flame going out.
Shoulders twitching, lungs collapsing, I squinched my lids shut and looked in, reaching for that spark.
I wrapped my entire sense of being around that flicker of hope—my Source. Using it as an anchor, to pull me up, up, up, until I burst through the surface.
Crisp, salty air stung my lungs in a burning gasp. Whitecaps rushed towards me. Before I could catch my breath and dive under, the current hooked me in its grasp.
Flailing and spinning, I fought against it, even though my strength was totally, utterly spent.
Then a voice. Two. Ones I thought I’d never hear again, wove themselves onto the breeze, into the stormy sea, into my pounding heart, screaming, “STOP.”
Two of the Watchers had reached me. How, I didn’t know. Our connection had been severed. But I listened. I stopped. I let my body drift, riding the waves until the bottoms of my feet finally found sand and the ocean carried me in.
Stumbling, I dragged myself to shore, sopping and shaking. At the edge of the surf zone, I dropped to my knees, palms sinking into the damp, waterlogged ground, dagger sparkling in the moonlight beside me.
Salt water, hot and acidic, poured out of my mouth.
After a good retch, I rose to standing, glancing at the arched stone ceiling overhead.
I made it.
Chapter 9
