Page 23 of The Arcane God

Ena just shook her head silently, not taking her eyes off the water, though she knew the river’s path had likely carried him far past them by now.

A chill went through her, and she shivered. Her clothes were still wet from the river crossing, and she vaguely noticed that it was getting dark, because it was getting harder to see the other side of the river.

“Ena,” Turner broached the silence quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. But she didn’t look at him, she couldn’t take her eyes off the water. She wouldn’t. “It’s getting dark. We need to get back to the horses. Maybe that way, we can cover more ground.”

She didn’t want to, but he had a point. Ty was likely farther downstream now, and running would only get them so far. They could travel faster and farther with horses, so, reluctantly, she agreed, tearing her eyes from the water for the greater good. Together, they jogged back the couple miles they’d run to where their horses were still grazing by the riverbank. They saddled up quickly and went back the way they’d come.

The sun had set now, and the water was hard to see, but Ena didn’t care. They had to keep looking. Soon, they surpassed the place where they’d pulled out Ty’s horse—who was still resting where they’d left her—and they continued on in the dark.

Ena’s teeth began to chatter—the adrenaline leaving her body as the search turned stale, and the wetness of her clothing combined with the freezing temperatures started to catch up to her. But she didn’t stop scanning the banks—listening for a cry of help, watching for a strange shape holding on to a stone in the water, or washed up on the bank—anything. The silence between her and Turner began to deepen—it widened like the river as they passed bend after bend with no hope.

After another hour, Turner called to her.

“Ena.” His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, as if he had to force the words out. “I think we need to stop.”

Ena whipped around in her saddle to look at him, almost shocked that he would suggest such a thing. “W-what do you mean?” she asked, slowing her horse. “We can’t stop looking. T-Turner, we have to find him. He’s out there s-somewhere.” She gestured towards the cold, unforgiving river and the wilderness beyond it.

“I know, Ena, we will,” Turner said with conviction. “But not tonight. It’s useless and dangerous to keep searching in the dark. We need to get you and the baby warmed up. I don’t want you getting hypothermia out here. If Ty is…if he’s conscious now, he’ll know what to do. He’ll make it to shore and we’ll find him tomorrow.”

Ena wanted to turn away from him, tell him to fuck off—that she was fine and they should keep looking until they found him, no matter the cost. But then she shivered, and she felt the muscles in her abdomen tighten uncomfortably around her growing uterus. She’d barely felt it when she was running, but her muscles ached, and her wet clothing was beginning to crust with ice. She placed her hand instinctively to her stomach to feel the swell there—proof of the life within—and all of a sudden she wanted to weep.

Because Turner was right. She needed to take care of herself. If not for her own sake, then for the baby’s. She was cold and exhausted and on the brink of collapse—though she’d been denying it. But she fucking hated it. She hated to leave this riverside and stop looking for Ty. How could she do that? How could she just go back to their camp tonight without him?

How was he just…gone?

As if sensing her shift, Turner pulled his horse up next to hers and reached out to touch her shoulder. “We’ll find him, Ena. I swear we will.”

Ena nodded blankly at him as she continued staring at the deadly river, her heart and mind feeling as numb as her fingers.

Of course they’d find him. They had to…right?

Chapter Ten

Turner

They awoke before the sun. Neither of them had truly been able to sleep, knowing Ty was still out there, likely injured and freezing and needing their help, but Turner had at least gotten Ena to rest, and thawed her out near a roaring fire. When it became clear that dawn wasn’t too far off, they both got up silently and readied the horses. They’d fetched Ty’s exhausted horse before setting up camp last night—Ty would need it when they found him again—and now Turner tethered it to the back of his own so it would stay with the group, and then they took off downriver once more.

They covered as much ground as quickly as they could, and before long passed the spot they had stopped at yesterday, then kept going. Turner kept his eyes trained on both sides of the river, looking for any sign that Ty had emerged and sought shelter—footprints, drag marks, broken sticks. He had no supplies, so wouldn’t be able to start a fire, but maybe he’d found a place sheltered from the cold, night air to hunker down in until morning.

They looked well into the afternoon, covering more miles in a few hours than they had the entire previous day. Ena refused to stop and rest at all, but around midday, Turner forced some food into her hands, which she consented to eat while riding.

They continued the rest of the evening, stopping only when the darkness forced them to, and they spent a second night awake, huddled by the fire, both of them too afraid to sleep. Unspoken between them was the growing panic that every hour, every minute that went by without any sign of him, the more danger he was in.

They woke again the next day, bleary-eyed, and continued searching. They zigzagged in and out of the forest this time to see if he’d emerged and sought shelter in the trees, then returned close to the riverbank for any sign he’d been there.

Around midday on their second day of searching, the river’s path took a treacherous turn, narrowing as it reached another tight mountain pass and becoming more rocky and rapid-filled. Ena was several lengths ahead, scouting downriver, when Turner heard her call.

“Turner!” Her voice was hoarse from calling over and over for Ty, but he still heard the distress in it and spurred the horses into motion to catch up with her.

When he arrived, he instantly saw why she was worried. The river had funneled into a narrow chasm between two mountains which plummeted down a fifty-foot drop into a canyon filled with sharp rocks at the bottom.

They both stared down at it, watching the whitecapped water froth and churn with enough force to crush a grown man, and Turner’s stomach dropped.

Because he knew in an instant: that fall was a deadly one. If Ty hadn’t gotten out of the water on his own, there was a very good chance that fall would have severely hurt, if not killed him. There was little chance he’d survived it unharmed.

“Maybe he got out already,” Ena said, looking down at the water. “The horse was able to swim out. Maybe if we double back, we’ll find something we missed.”

Turner nodded, but inside, he knew what Ena was clearly afraid to admit. They’d already been searching thoroughly the whole river’s length and found nothing—there was a good chance Ty had gone down into this canyon.