Chapter Sixteen
WakingintotaldarknesswasalmostfrighteningaftersolongofbeingintheBlight.Theybothendedupsleepingforwhatfeltlikefarlongerthanusual,thoughFlorianwassurehisinnersenseoftimewasnowherenearaccurateanymore.Attheveryleast,hefeltwell-restedaftertheirexhaustingtripthedaybefore.Hisbackwassoreandstiffashesatup,worsethanheremembereditbeingthenightbefore;butbythetimethey’deatenandpackedawaytheirbedrolls,itwasn’tasbad.
“I’m ready,” he said, ignoring Kade’s look of concern as he stiffly put on his backpack.
“How’s your back?” Kade asked, and Florian huffed. Part of him sort of liked how Kade doted on him, but another part of him bristled at his worry, as if Kade thought he was a fragile child. He could take care of himself, after all. But he thought of how worried he’d been for Kade when he was hurt—he couldn’t hold it against the other man for being concerned.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t know if I can heal it. Do you think it would be worth it to try? It only hurts a bit.”
Kade shrugged. “You would know better than me. I don’t see why magic wouldn’t work.”
Florian shifted so he could put his hands on the small of his back—the movement made his sore muscles ache all over again, but he closed his eyes and took in a steadying breath, before murmuring, “Heal.”
He could feel the tingle of magic leaving his hands and sparkling up his back, giving him goosebumps. When the sensation passed, though, nothing felt all that different; he lowered his hands and experimentally twisted back and forth. There was some lingering stiffness and discomfort, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had previously.
“I guess it did work,” Florian said, grinning up at Kade. Kade answered with a small smile, and they set out. The mark that he had made in the dirt with his sword—no, Florian’s sword—still remained just past where they had camped, though the damp earth had started to fill in a little. But it still clearly marked the direction they needed to go, so they followed.
Before much longer, another lamp post came into view, and they resumed the pattern that they had fallen into the day before: checking each lamp post for their next direction and walking that way in darkness for what Florian guessed was around ten minutes or so. Then another lamp would come into view, and they would repeat the process.
The lamps sent them every which way, so their path felt meandering and aimless. And although the soil beneath their feet was damp and soft, so far there had been no sign of rain or any body of water anywhere. It was all strange, Florian thought, and it left him unsettled.
“Where do you think the water’s coming from?” Florian asked, glancing up at Kade. “There’s no rain, but I don’t see a pond or anything.”
Kade frowned, but didn’t answer, instead shrugging and glancing around as if he might spot some rainfall.
He had been mulling it over for the span of two or three lamp posts, when it seemed that maybe he had spoken too soon. A lamp post up ahead, only just now coming into view, was set on a mound of earth surrounded by a few feet of water like a small moat.
“There’s the water,” he laughed, and Kade huffed with a stifled chuckle. “So weird that’s all we’ve seen so far, though.”
They came up to the edge of the water. The lamp post was maybe ten feet from them, and from their perspective, it pointed directly to the left. The water was dark—and, Florian noticed, it didn't quite reflect the light of the lamp post, nor the little ball of light in his hand in the way that he expected. It seemed almost dull somehow.
“Weird,” he muttered, crouching down to take a closer look.
“What is?” Kade asked from behind him. Florian opened his mouth to respond, but the surface of the water had started to tremble and quiver. Before he could react, a stream of liquid shot out at him—no, not liquid, but not solid either—it grabbed him by the wrist and pulled down hard. He yelped, startled, but the noise was quickly muffled as the stream dragged him beneath the surface.
His own light was snuffed out, and only the dim light of the lamp post above illuminated anything. He couldn’t quite make out what had grabbed him—it was strong, and the moment he was submerged, it felt as though he were being squeezed from all sides, as if the water itself was a creature.
The waterwasa creature, he realized—it had been so dull, the liquid thick—he was jostled as the water creature shifted and moved, pulling itself from the earth as if it was standing.
“Drop!” he tried to command, but the word came out as an unintelligible garble of air bubbles from his mouth. Florian could feel his magic skitter off the creature uselessly.
His free hand flew to his side, but was met with nothing—he had given his sword to Kade. Vaguely through the watery surface that enveloped him, he could see Kade and hear him shouting, distantly. Florian started to kick his legs, trying to swim out of the watery creature; but something grabbed at him the moment he did, pinning his ankles together.
He groaned, bubbles of air pouring from his nose. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape, couldn’t fight—with his one free hand he reached desperately toward Kade’s blurry figure, which swung at the creature with his mother’s sword. Pressure bore down on him as it tried to pin his arm back to his side; but stubbornly he kept his hand outstretched as much as he could, though his elbow buckled and his muscles quivered with the effort. But dealing with Kade seemed to occupy the creature enough so that it could not exert full control over Florian’s body.
Already his vision was starting to go fuzzy at the edges, pressure building up painfully in his lungs. It took everything within him to fight against the urge to breathe in. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t focus—was this really how he was going to die? Drowning inside a water monster?
With as much strength as he could muster, Florian thrashed his torso back and forth, trying to gain any traction to push his free hand further out the creature. The effort burned his lungs, and he sucked in a sharp breath without having meant to—but it was thick liquid that filled his chest, making him choke and gag, unable to cough. Pain erupted from his lungs, shooting through his throat and nose. His vision was going dark—
Something touched his hand, something warm, and his fingers closed around it like a vice. He pulled himself toward it, could feel it pulling him too, and the pressure surrounding him increased tenfold, like it would crush every one of his bones as he was dragged through.
Then he could just barely hear something metallic, a slicing sound, and all the pressure around him dissipated at once. He fell to the ground in a splash. His seizing lungs were finally able to expel the liquid that he’d breathed in, and he coughed up thick, dark water onto the mud beneath him—and sucked in a sweet, cold, life-giving breath.
“I have you,” Kade’s voice was coming from above him. Florian could feel Kade wresting his heavy, waterlogged backpack off of him—when the weight was removed, it felt like his lungs could expand a little better. “Get it all out. I have you.”
With a groan Florian pushed himself to roll onto his back, vaguely aware of Kade kneeling over him. He was lightheaded, his breath still coming in shuddering gasps, and the world spinning around him. One of Kade’s hands was in his, squeezing. He managed to weakly squeeze back, holding on as if it were the only thing that anchored him to the world that spun in dizzy spirals around him.
He didn’t know how long he lay there before his breathing started to slow, and he managed to push himself up into a sitting position.
