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“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.
17
Meira
