Finally, once she had removed a few more strands, the rigging loosened enough to shake him free.
“Come on.” She spoke inside of her mind, willing him to stay alive. “Just a little longer.”
Grabbing the back of his shirt, she swam once again toward the surface.
He was heavy, but the water helped to buoy him up.
Her mind screamed for air, telling her to open her mouth and breathe, so she distracted herself by talking to the stranger with her thoughts. “This is not the end. Stay with me, friend. You are too young to die.”
For a moment, she wondered if he was also a Quotidian tasker and the thought alone made her want to drop him. But perhaps that was simply because he was weighing her down and her mind was playing tricks on her to help her get to the surface and survive.
She had to survive.
She still had to save Celesta.
With that final thought spurring her on, she propelled herself toward the surface with another powerful kick.
At the last moment, her body betrayed her and she inhaled through her nose just before her head reached the open air. As she curled into a coughing fit, her legs swam below her in their practiced pattern. Somehow, she managed to keep the stranger’s head above water as well as her own. It was no easy feat as he wasn’t carrying any of his own weight.
Positioning herself below him, she swam quickly to the shore. The water had carried them quite a distance from the main wreckage, and she instinctively continued to move away from it.
She needed to avoid the more populated areas if she wanted to stay free.
Dragging the man by his underarms, she pulled him ashore onto a secluded section of the beach. He was exceptionally tall and she was beyond exhausted, but she somehow managed to get him safely away from the lapping waterline. A quick glance told her the tide was receding, so he would be safe from the water’s clutches for now.
The gentle swish of the shallow water mocked her with its gentleness as if it were an entirely separate entity than the vicious ocean. She ignored it, focusing on the drowning man in her arms.
Leaning over him, she pressed her hands against his chest, using all her weight.
Water dribbled from his mouth. His hair was dark, like the taskers’. Her hands froze above his chest for the briefest moment as she realized she was saving the life of someone who would never do the same for her.
She blinked away the thought, leaning back onto his chest to help him expel the water from his lungs.
She dropped her eyes from his face to not be tempted to abandon her task again. He was wearing a heavy gray shirt that fitted his tall, lean frame well. A fancily embroidered symbol rested over his heart. It looked official, like something a Quotidian soldier would wear.
With an interior groan, she looked back up at his face. His skin was turning gray, matching the shirt he wore.
Perhaps it was too late.
She felt vulnerable, sitting on the edge of the beach in open view. Surely, search parties would be combing the area soon, looking for survivors.
She needed to be far from here when that happened. The line of bushes further inland offered some coverage, or she could jump back into the sea and swim further up the shore.
But she could not leave the young stranger to his death without trying one more thing. Reaching into the sopping wet sack still bound to her side, she pulled out the vial of oil.
It likely wouldn’t work, but she had to try.
Dabbing some oil onto her fingertips, she spread it over the base of his nose, quietly humming.
Then she pressed onto his chest again, forcing more water from his lungs.
With a sudden lurch, his body jolted to life and he coughed, gagging on the water in his mouth as he attempted to lift his head.
“Hello?” Aizel asked. “Can you hear me?”
The man continued to cough, but his eyes remained closed.
She exhaled in relief.
