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“I don’t know, Riella, but I don’t think we should stick around to find out. Do you really think he’d let you take your Voice back? He’s toying with you.”
Before her eyes, other-Riella morphed, the black vapor rearranging itself into another form. Within moments, the figure became the likeness of Polinth. He smiled, wearing a black robe, and he held up a small glass bottle containing the blue glow of her Voice.
Riella went to cross the few paces to the sorcerer. But this time, Jarin was ready, grabbing her around the waist with both arms to stop her.
Polinth laughed heartily.
“You are too late, my dearest,” he said in a horrible singsong voice. “I already have what I needed from you.” He wriggled the glass bottle. “And I thank you for it, endlessly. I regret that I couldn’t meet you at the cave in person, but I have much to do before the royal wedding. I hope you don’t mind that I left a Glamour behind to greet you.” He chuckled. “Well. Goodbye, now.”
His face and body faded, the black vapor overtaking his features. The vapor drifted backward with unnatural speed, as if sucked into a portal. Only the glass bottle containing her Voice remained, suspended in midair.
The bottle was so close. All she had to do was reach out and grab it.
With a grunt, she wrenched herself from Jarin’s vise-like grip and lunged for the bottle. The moment her fingertips touched the glass, the bottle vanished, and her Voice along with it. A puff of black smoke was all that remained.
Her shoulders slumped. What a disaster of a mission. The only bright spot was that he obviously didn’t know Riella and Jarin had the map. He mightn’t even know about its existence.
“The royal wedding,” repeated Riella with a frown, remembering the news bulletin they heard at the tavern. “It’s being held on the night of the full moon. The night I die.”
“Riella, what’s that?” asked Jarin in an uneasy voice.
The cave interior had changed. While the floating candles remained, their yellow flames flickering in the breeze, the seaweed and coral were gone. In their place were piles of red sticks with strings coming from the ends, like candles. Polinth had bewitched the red sticks to look like seaweed and coral.
A metallic pungency drifted through the air, mingling with the briny scent of the sea. Was this another Glamour? How could she be certain of anything she saw?
Jarin peered closer at the red piles in the low light. Then, he cursed loudly and skittered backward, grabbing her wrist and tugging her with him.
“I saw these in Hatara,” he said. “Run!”
As he yanked her to the mouth of the cave, the suspended candles dropped from the air, landing on the red sticks. The flames spread to the strings protruding from the sticks, sparking them and burning brightly.
Riella went to run down the stairs, but Jarin pulled her toward the cliff’s edge.
“No time!” he shouted. “We need to jump!”
He sprinted at the cliff and Riella followed, trusting him. At the black rocky edge, they leaped, his hand locked around her wrist. For a moment, they hung weightless, the sky and sea sparkling with starlight.
Then, the cave exploded.
A deafening wall of orange light and searing heat blew into their backs, propelling them through the air. Riella’s skin flamed as she fell, overcome with confusion and fear. Polinth had conjured the sun.
The force of the explosion sent chunks of rock sailing narrowly past Riella and Jarin, splashing into the choppy water below. Her legs flailed as she fell and the churning onyx water sped toward her. An instant before she hit the surface, Riella gulped air, praying their bodies would not be dashed against the cliffside by the waves.
Upon impact with the water, a falling rock broke Jarin’s hold on her, sending sharp pain through her arm. She plunged into the sea, rocks hitting the water around her like missiles. She looked wildly for Jarin, but the dark, seething ocean concealed him from view.
Instead of kicking for the surface, she swam deeper, trying to find him. Was he invulnerable to drowning? If he sank unconscious to the bottom of the sea, his body would disintegrate or be eaten, regardless of the curse.
A plume of red floating through the water drew her to him. He’d been knocked out, a deep gash on the side of his head. Riella hooked her wrists under his armpits and kicked upward, gritting her teeth with the strain.
A boulder hit the water directly above, and she dragged his body clear just in time. Her lungs burned and her endurance was waning. If she did not surface soon, they would both perish.
In sheer determination, she beat her legs against the bubbling water. Finally, her head broke the surface. She coughed, the waves buffeting her, willing Jarin to breathe as she held his head above water. The gash was deep and poured blood. If he survived, it would only be due to the curse. Such an injury would kill a normal human.
The orange light was now a faraway glow against the inky sky. The caves were burning. Mercifully, the rocks stopped falling. A whole section of the cliff was missing, leaving behind a crater.
Puffing hard, she struck for the open waters of the bay, where she might catch a wave to the beach. Her progress was slow. The waves kept pushing her backward, and swimming was difficult with Jarin’s enormous body in tow. He regained consciousness shortly after she hauled him past the breakers.
Bleeding profusely from the gash, he gazed around blank-faced.
