“Storms pass.
“Pain ends—”
Kaelen chimes in on the last line.
“Wewill never quit.”
Our gazes meet, and the strength I see in his eyes bolsters my courage.
I nod. “Wewill never quit.”
Kaelen’s powerful kicks propel us along and save us from drowning, making me fiercely determined about one crucial fact: If we survive th is, I’m going to learn to swim.
We move through the icy water for so long I wonder if this river crosses all of Altarra, but just when I’m afraid I can’t hold on for one more minute, the tunnel brightens in front of us.
“Daylight,” Kaelen gasps. I have a feeling he would have shouted the word if he had the breath to do so.
Were we in the Barrows long enough for daylight to break? Maybe dawn, at least. I don’t have breath to reply, so I just nod and focus on holding on with hands that feel like blocks of solid ice.
The river carries us through another opening in the rock, this onegiving out onto a wider channel where the water flows between two grassy banks. Kaelen puts all his strength into turning us toward the closer one, dragging Bern and me with him. When my feet touch the ground, I get my feet under me and help pull Bern, though I’m so tired I can barely move.
Trudging slowly, fighting the current, step by step, Kaelen and I pull Bern with us and climb out of the river and onto the bank, where we fall onto our backs and do nothing but gasp, sucking in all the air we can, for several minutes.
When I finally sit up, I see the lumpy hills of the Barrows behind us and a relatively flat landscape in front of us. We survived.
“We made it!” I turn to Kaelen, surprised he’s not sitting up yet.
“Well. Mostly,” he says, his voice so quiet I almost don’t hear him over the sound of the burbling river.
“What? Mostly?” I look at Bern, still unconscious. “I know, but surely once we start a fire and get him warm, bind his injury, and maybe find something to eat, he’ll be fine. I can—”
“Solitude,” he says, stopping my flow of words. “I’m in a little trouble.”
He moves his hand from where it rests against his side, and I see blood flowing out of the torn fabric. He tries to smile. “Might need some … help.”
And then his eyes roll back in his head.
I sit there—just sit there—for I don’t even know how long, just staring at the two injured men. Then I force myself to think. Start planning. What do I need to do first? Even as I’m running through options, I tear a strip off the bottom of my fancy new shirt and use it to press against Kaelen’s wound. Bern’s injury seems to have closed over in the river or at least quit bleeding, but his shoulder is dislocated. I wad up another strip of my shirt and press it against my head laceration and focus on breathing, because I don’t have time to panic.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
I need help. I need Elianna. I need herbs. I need a healer or a pot of boiling water and a fire or really, just one single piece of goodluck for a ravens-begotten change.
Throwing my head back, I scream, long and loud, letting out all my frustration and fear and fury.
Then I square my shoulders and get to work.
First, I take stock.
Bad idea. I have nothing to work with, and we’re alone. I don’t know what happened to our companions, to my best and maybe only friend in the world, and I’m afraid to think about that too hard right now. I’m terrified that either the draugrs or the Fell will find us any minute.
I’ll have to worry about that later.
