Chapter 25
Acker keeps his sight fixed on the shore as it comes into view. Black rocks frame a small beach of black sand, and seagulls nest along the boulders framing the outcropping. As the land looms closer and closer, Acker becomes more and more tense.
"There's only one place with black beaches like this." His mouth is set in a grim line. "This is Roison territory."
The map we were shown in Alaha was simplified. There weren't titles or boundaries, only the topographical markers labeled with dotted lines, but the black sand beaches were evident on the northeastern edge of the landmass. The east of Kenta is where Roison resides. We literally passed up our destination.
Acker curses under his breath. "We should turn west, head back toward Kenta."
I jerk my head back. "Absolutely not."
He tears his gaze from the shore, eyes homing in on me. "Chryse, their leader, has allowed rebels and bandits to have their way with the land. It's the worst place for us to venture into."
"What if we get caught in another storm or blown off course? We've been surviving on scraps for weeks and you want to turn your back on the first land we see? No. It's too risky. "
"Jovie, you're already feeling the effects of the awakening. It's going to be ten times worse once we reach land, and you want to encroach onto enemy territory?"
"We won't survive at all if you succumb to the sickness in your veins," I tell him, pointing to his side. "You said you'd heal on land. Well, there it is." I swing my finger to the beach. "Right there."
He clenches his teeth. "There's a peace treaty, but it's fragile. If Chryse finds us in his territory, it could be at the cost of reigniting the war."
A piercing pain begins to pulse behind my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, opening them once it abates. "We should swing the sail if we're turning around."
Acker pulls me in by my elbow. "How bad is it?"
Terrible. My head is screaming and my stomach wants to revolt and there's a flashing light in the corner of my vision that I've been ignoring.
"I'm fine."
He's not convinced but releases his hold on me anyway. I turn to untie the boom then hear his loud sigh.
"Stop."
I look at him over my shoulder in question.
"We should take it down and row the rest of the way to shore. Less of a chance of being spotted."
I stand up straight. "Are you sure? You said—"
"I know what I said," he mutters. "Just promise me you'll follow my orders once we touch down."
"You have my word."
He is somehow even less convinced than before.
We take down the flag and gather everything we can bring with us. It's not much but plenty to weigh down the pack. When the waves begin to break, we row with our backs toward the beach. It takes fortitude not to look over my shoulder with every stroke. It feels wrong to put my back to the enemy.
It's nightfall by the time we make it close enough to the beach to disembark. Acker jumps first, then I follow suit. The water initially feels freezing cold before it shifts to a scorching temperature against my skin. Like touching a hot stove, a shock of ice before the burn as if I've been thrown into a pot of boiling water.
I yell as I flail to stay as far above the waves as I can. The beach and rocks and lack of vegetation should have been a warning. The water is obviously uninhabitable. I reach to find purchase on something, anything to save me, only to be met with nothing but searing pain as the water passes through my fingers.
One look at Acker tells me everything I need to know. He's not struggling. The water is fine.
It's just me.
He swims toward me, worry on his face, but I don't wait for him to reach me. I swim for the shore with all my might. I need to get to shore. There'll be relief once I'm on dry land.
But I'm wrong.
So very wrong.
My knees hit the sandy bottom of the shallow water where the waves break, and I yelp. I stand, but my legs immediately give way from the pain lancing through them. I realize there's no escape. I tread the water, tolerating the searing pain. There's no way out of this.
"Jovie," Acker yells, stomping through the crash of waves to get to me.
I can't disguise my pain, my fear sending me into full- blown panic. A day of this, maybe two, he said. "I can't," I cry, unable to make myself leave the water.
He doesn't bother asking my permission before reaching down and placing a hand under my legs, the other under my back to lift me from the water. It offers mild relief, but it doesn't last long. Each step forward brings another level of torture as we travel further onto land. The blinding light that was in the corner of my eyesight grows to encompass everything.
We reach the rocks lining the shore then move past them as the sand turns to grass. Blue swoops overhead, staying low as Acker marches with me in his arms. He, too, knows the importance of being discreet.
I can't tell how long it takes, but we reach a wooded area where trees loom over our heads. They're not like the trees of Alaha. These are thin with smaller leaves and sparser.
Acker stops in a small clearing. "We should have enough coverage to wait here for your awakening to pass."
He kneels, and I cling to him. "Please." Not the ground. Please don't put me on the ground.
"Jovie," he says, breath brushing over my hair. "The only way through it is through."
I know he's right. There's nothing I can do to prevent the inevitable, but I'm tempted to beg him to take me back. Back to the boat. Back to Alaha. I know I'd hate myself for it, so I bite my tongue until I taste blood.
"I'm going to set you down now," he says, soft but stern.
I nod, releasing his shirt from my tight grip. The moment the ground meets my back, I scream. Acker cups his palm over my mouth, hand cradling my skull as he lowers my head back the rest of the way.
I can't stop it. My body contorts itself in an effort to escape the pain. I can't hear what Acker's saying. All I can see is his lips moving, but there's no sound. All that exists is the pain, like lightning through my veins. My heartbeat is my very own death march, each thump fueling the fire.
His voice breaks through the roaring in my head. "Please, Jovie," he says, desperate.
I struggle to remain focused on his face. His mouth moves, but his words are garbled, face warped as he continues to speak—no, plead. He's pleading with me.
"I need you to quit screaming. Please."
I clamp my teeth shut, groaning through the release begging for escape.
Acker's chest heaves as he lets out a gust of breath. "I'm sorry," he says. Over and over, he apologizes. "I'm going to try to find something to make it better, okay?"
Tears stream from my eyes, but I manage a nod. I urge my body to relax, trying to unclench my muscles, but it's next to impossible. Each breath and pulse of my heart feels like an attack against myself, like my own body is revolting. I feel the magic beneath my sternum. It's swirling and changing, reveling in the agony I feel.
This doesn't feel like a gift. It feels like a punishment.
I sense Acker's presence before he speaks. "Chew this well before you swallow it." He holds a leafy plant to my lips. Acker cups the back of my head, settling it on his thigh as he brings the waterskin to my mouth.
Most of the water spills over my mouth and down my chin, but I somehow manage to get a couple of swallows. Acker pushes my hair from my forehead, running his hand over the area again and again, a soothing gesture. I fall into an open pit of slumber.