Chapter 16

What had been peaceful, now only felt exhausting and slightly creepy, Remis thought. His concentration slipped for probably the millionth time and their small raft slowed to match the natural pace of the current.

The day had come to an end and the moon hid behind several large clouds. There was hardly any light to calm the stress of not being able to see where they were going. Water splashed against rocks along the river banks and the occasional sound of something leaping in and out of the water had become their music. He tried not to let his attention drift to the trees, where often he found the glowing eyes of animals watching them as they went.

As far as he knew, they’d made good ground following this river, but he’d never spent this long holding onto his connection to the magic of this world. Now every time he envisioned it, his palms grew slick, and his grip on it weakened further.

For a while, Percy and Merritt had taken turns napping. Now that it was night and the dragonis would be active, they both stared up at the stars overhead. They’d built the raft large enough that the three of them could lay side by side on their backs. Every curve of the tree limbs underneath them was painfully noticeable, and no matter how he tried to move he couldn’t find a comfortable spot. He sighed and let them drift, not caring that he wasn”t pushing them as quickly as they could go.

“Quit moving,” Percy whisper-shouted. “You won’t stop rocking the boat.”

Remis forced himself still. The numbness of the salve was beginning to wear off on his shoulder and though they’d made sure to cut the knots and smaller branches from the wood, a lump in the log was digging into the wound. He’d continued with Percy’s help, to treat it as the physician had, and it was healing at a remarkable pace. He tried his best not to think about it because every time he did it sent him on a spiral.

It all started with the fear of the dragonis. How absolutely terrifying it had been to be speared on its talon and lifted off the ground. His body gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered with stark clarity how quickly he’d been torn away from his friends and how gravity stretched his body out and tore muscles in his shoulder.

Thinking about the dragonis only led him to think about the warlord and his physician. All the strange things she’d kept in her room had made them all uneasy. Jars of fingers and eyes. He specifically avoided the image in his memories of the glass filled with entrails. She’d treated them quickly enough. He’d assumed she was tired, annoyed, and wanted to be back in bed. Yet the timing had been…coincidental. No sooner had she wrapped up Remis’ wound than he felt the hot warning forcing him into action. While Percy’s accusation of her being a witch was perhaps uncouth, it sounded entirely accurate. And if she wasn’t the witch hunting him, perhaps she had known the witch and tipped her off.

His body had moved on its own accord. He’d had enough sense to make sure his friends came with him, but it had been the curse itself that had shot him into action. He traced a finger over the fabric that covered the eye. What an odd thing it was to be connected to someone he didn’t know with no clue as to why.

These thoughts were a spinning vortex within his head; eventually they started over and again he’d go down the same hole. All of it starting with the dragonis and ending with her.

The witch had only been a dark shape at a distance. One that wasn’t even easily distinguishable with the thick cloak around her body, but her long hair had caught on the wind. He wanted so badly to know her face. When she finally caught up with him, would he have time to ask her his questions? He couldn’t fathom dying without reason.

Would she make it quick?

Would she drag it out?

Who was she?

Who was she to him?

He’d already thought of all the terrible things he’d done. Most of which started and ended with never taking his lovers seriously. Once he’d forgotten to tip the help. Another time he’d tripped a stranger who’d been dragging their child along like a piece of luggage rather than a human boy. None of that sounded like reason enough.

Time was going on and on and there was nothing he could do but think. This was perhaps worse than death. At least death was supposed to be peaceful. He’d no longer exist, his body would be given back to the earth, and that would be the end of it. Depending on how long it took for the witch to catch up to him, he wondered what the chances were of him losing his sanity.

The flow of water under them picked up speed. Remis opened his eyes, entirely too aware that he’d had nothing to do with it. The river was naturally speeding up. Water splashed over the edges of the raft, rocking them with the movement. Remis’ fingers curled against the logs under him as he tried to sit up.

Remis heard a shushing sound. It reminded him of the noise his mother would make if he was being too loud at the market, except this sound never ended. It continued in one long unbroken note that grew louder the farther they traveled. After several hours they’d grown used to the noise of the river, the rushing sound of water, but this sound was different. It was more.

“What is that?” Merritt sat up. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Remis answered, his voice rising with his worry. The shadowed silhouette of trees passed at a frantic pace as their raft darted down the river, following the curve of a long bend. Still, the sound grew louder, the waters more rough and urgent. The current thrashed against them, soaking through their clothes as they clung to the wood.

Exhaustion had been dragging his body down for several long hours but it was quickly replaced with the heart-pounding fear of the unknown. Remis threw himself to his stomach, plunging his fingers into the icy claws of the river. He tried to slow his breath, though every time he breathed in he got a face full of water that caused him to sputter and spit.

Shit. Shit. Concentrate.

He dove into his power, the plunge into the realm that all magic exists in was as bitter as the waves that rocked them. His mind wandered with the angry cascades of water. Heart pounding in his chest, his mind reached for every edge of the river, feeling for the source of that terrible sound. Nature raced ahead of them, the river straightening out and then widening. Their raft lurched forward again, gaining more speed.

Remis felt the water fall away, his magic dropping and sending his stomach up into his throat. He let out a gasp.

“Waterfall,” he said too quietly to be heard over the sound of the river. “Waterfall!” he shouted.

“What?!” Percy’s voice had gone squeaky.

No. No…he had to slow them down. They were going to plummet over the edge if they couldn’t get out of the river now.

“Remis, dammit. Do something!” Merritt demanded.

Remis didn’t need to see him to know that his friend had gone deathly pale. He could practically feel his friend’s panic as fresh and terrible as his own.Remis squeezed his eyes closed, using his adrenaline to guide him into a state of focus. He was the river, he was the water, and he would slow them, turn them, guide them to safety. What power he had strained against the strength of the river, their progression only slowing minimally as he fought the current.

This isn’t going to work. I’m not strong enough.

I can’t. I can’t.

“Remis!” Merritt shouted. He let go of the raft to place a hand on Remis’ arm, fingers curling brutally into his bicep.

Their raised voices could hardly be heard now over the violent crashing of the water. The river dragged them forward threatening whatever lay below. He tried to force their raft to move, even if only to the river’s edge so they could claw their way out of danger but if he was able to move them, even if only slightly, he couldn’t tell.

His mind called imaginings of them toppling over the river and into deadly rocks. Pictures of their bodies bloodied, mangled, and most certainly dead filled his mind’s eye. There was no stopping this. No stopping nature.

“Hold on! Hold on!” Remis screamed, his throat going hoarse. He couldn”t be sure that his friends even heard him, the waterfall was all he could hear around the hectic beating of his heart in his ears.

The raft tipped, threatening to launch them off.

And then they were falling.

Remis felt gravity snatch his body weight from the wood and throw him violently down and then down some more. He swore he felt the cold of the water at his back, the fall finally done but everything went black and then he didn’t feel anything at all.

Air rushed into Remis’ burning lungs. Every breath scraped down his raw throat and came out in a torrent of coughs. Wet clothes clung to his body weighing him down against the mud. Panic prickled down his spine, the only sign that he was still alive, that his body was still mostly intact. Most of his flesh tingled with that near numb sensation from the cold of winter.

He blinked his eyes open, flinching at the bright light that assaulted him. Dirt caught under his fingernails, his hands curling against the rock-studded ground, as he coughed. The sound of the river was a gentle lullaby behind him now. Remis looked ahead, letting his blurred vision adjust until several leafless trees came into view. A puddle of vomit lingered near his head. He scowled down at it and wiped at his mouth with the back of his sleeve. So the waterfall hadn’t killed him. That was good news at least. If he’d survived it surely his friends had too.

Lifting his head, a dull pounding began inside his skull, and as he turned to take in his surroundings, he found a pair of polished leather boots. His attention trailed up the body of the person who stood before him. Leather clung to the shapely curves of a woman, a sword strapped to her hips, a cloak fluttering in the breeze behind her, and a hood drawn over shadowed features.

“You’re hurt,” she said, more a statement than a question. She reached out, offering a hand.

Remis pushed himself to his knees, reaching for the woman’s hand. His gaze fell on her outstretched palm as he reached for her. A raised scar-like eye watched him. Sucking in a violent breath he toppled backward, catching himself against sharp rocks that dug into his palms. Terror shot like an arrow down his spine.

“You.” He pointed an accusing finger, hating the way his hand trembled.

Fear mingled with blatant curiosity until he felt as though he might be sick again.

She smiled under her hood, a sly spread of lips, and a flash of teeth. Remis wished then that he could see her face fully, he wanted…no he needed to know exactly what she looked like. He imagined her withered, wrinkled, and with a monstrous gleam in her eyes.

“Me.” She purred.