Page 85 of Vasmora

Zevander rubbed across the back of his neck. “Are you up for this? Those heavy rains are creating a fast current.”

“We have no choice. Without him, I can’t summon a glyph.”

Hands braced at his hips, he nodded. “Then, let’s get this over with.”

He guided me forward, stepping over the stone wall into the cool water that smelled of minerals and lavender, likely from the soap used to wash the linens. The water climbed to our calves, then hips, and as it reached my waist, something tugged at my feet. A force pulling me deeper. Water and gravel shifted beneath my feet, carrying me closer. An unnerving sensation that had my breaths turning shallower.

The shouts of a guard echoed behind us.

A glimpse of two soldiers standing at the edge of the cistern nearly cost me my balance, the fast-moving water knocking my upper body while the gravel slipped from underfoot. Zevander’s tight clutch steadied me.

“Not another step!” the guard warned, and a golden lariat of light thrashed through the air, looping around my neck. Before its caster could pull it taut, Zevander pivoted, flames bursting from his palm. The lasso at my throat faded, leaving only black curls of smoke where the guards had once stood.

The ground slid beneath my feet, the water carrying me closer to the churning vortex. Its depth reached my shoulders, the relentless force pulling at my limbs.

So concentrated on fighting it, I didn’t notice another guard had rushed into the cistern until an arrow struck Zevander’s shoulder.

Zevander let out a growl. “Deep breath!” he commanded, and the moment I sucked in a gulp of air, he yanked me beneath the surface.

Arrows whizzed past us, through the water, but the pull toward the deep was strong. So strong, my feet slid across the surface.

The gravelly floor gave way to soft muck that dragged me beneath the surface.

I breached, sucking in a choked breath, the bottom scraping across the tips of my toes.

Zevander gripped me tighter, his body already submerged to his chest in muck as the current swept us toward the center of the pool where it funneled.

A beat of panic pounded through me, urging me for one more sip of air before it swallowed me under. Muscles tight, I tumbled and tossed about, clawing at the water, as I fought the current, and my hand slipped from Zevander’s.

The guard who’d shot arrows at us floundered past me in the whirlpool, limbs thrashing, and one hard wrenching of my leg threw me backward.

Hysterics took over, my arms burning to climb the liquid wall, the guard clinging as my body slipped deeper.

Deeper.

Oxygen waned in my lungs.

Pressure pounded at my ribs.

Arms and legs flailing, I fought for the surface, and my foot struck the guard. The grip of my leg slipped away, but something new took hold.

Stronger.

The pool’s floor sucked me in, muck gathering around my ankle, my calf, my thigh.

Light above me faded, the soft mud forcing its way up into my nose and closing in around me.

I let out a muffled scream, expending the last of my air. My muscles rebelled in one more futile attempt to save my life, kicking and clawing.

The world slowed, my battered body weak and exhausted. I let the darkness take me.

Down.

Down.

The muck squeezed around my torso, cinching my lungs. Tight. Tighter.

Until it released me and a hard surface smacked into my spine, muck exploding from my nose on impact. I managed only a glimpse of the ceiling above me, where the stone narrowed to the protruding hole that’d expelled me, sludge and water pouring out of it. I gasped and heaved as I slid across a slick surface, too fast to grasp anything. Wheezing, I opened my eyes to find myself caught in a current through a dark tunnel that curved to a green light up ahead.