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“No water,” Nimue laughed again. “No water—did you hear what she said?”
I just stared at her. Efridis did, too, for a moment. And then she slammed the blade home again.
“So hard to hold form these days,” Nimue whispered. “So very hard. So much easier to just . . . let go.” She looked at me, and for a moment, her eyes were clear and brilliant once more, like a storm-tossed sea. “Remember what I told you.”
And then, just that fast, she was gone. Only, no, that wasn’t the right word. Because her body faded away but something remained. Something powerful.
So, this is what happens when a god dies, I thought, as the cave began to shake, as the rocks fell, and as the waters rushed in. Not some of them, all of them, what felt like all the water in the world. It came crashing through every doorway, spirting from every fissure, torrenting down from the ceiling—
Daughter of the oceans, and the oceans had come to mourn.
And more than that.
The ceiling abruptly fell in, causing waves to sweep up the walls, like the surf crashing onto a beach in a hurricane. It crushed Efridis under rocks and tides that went on and on, and certainly would have crushed me and Ray, too. But the little capsule suddenly appeared in my face; I supposed that it had had no more trouble getting through a door that had exploded around it.
I hauled Ray’s body on board, how I didn’t know. But the waves were rising all around us, and there was no more time. I threw myself in after him, grabbing one of the seats and pulling with everything that I had. And as soon as I was onboard, I thought: Out!
We went out.
I did not know how the craft knew the way, as I could not help it. Perhaps it had some sort of memory, or perhaps some lingering piece of Nimue was guiding us. But we nonetheless went on the most frightening ride of my life, through a succession of interlocking caves, all of which were coming down on top of us.
Huge stalactites plummeted to the floor, which now looked more like an ocean. The waves they threw up crashed over top of our roof, threatening to swamp us. The little craft dodged this way and that, partly to avoid the rain of limestone, and partly from the battering it was taking. Ray and I were slung around the cabin, were almost tossed out of the missing shutter, and were sitting in at least a foot of water that sloshed around us.
But suddenly, we were out.
The tiny craft burst out of the side of a hill, one of the mountains that bordered the river. We skimmed across the waves, which were almost as wild as the ones inside. It looked like the formerly peaceful river had been taken over by a flood. It washed over the banks, slammed against the trees, sprayed us in the face. And it was all done in dead silence, except for the rushing of the water.
The chittering things in the trees did not chitter; the birds did not call. It felt like the whole world was suddenly stunned and in mourning: the caves its eyes, the river its tears. Its creatures held their breath at the passing of a goddess and nothing seemed to be functioning right.
That included our little capsule.
It had been sagging lower and lower amidst the waves, until the cabin was flooded. I pulled Ray clear and swam to the shallows, not even realizing until I was halfway there that my legs were kicking. I could have cried at the realization, and then I did, because the whole world was weeping. Why shouldn’t I?
I watched the last of her, the childhood toy she’d used to outwit them all for so long, slowly sink beneath the waves. It seemed fitting, that it go back to the waters. I watched until it was totally out of sight, bidding her farewell in the only way I knew how.
Then I turned my attention to the shore.
* * *
It was a long, hard swim against a raging current, as there were no areas of safe, dry land nearby. The tall trees hedged the river, and I would not go in there without a guide. Not even now.
It was fortunate that Ray did not need to breathe, or I would have drowned him a dozen times over. I barely managed to keep my own head above the choppy waves, and every time I looked back, it seemed that I found his face underwater yet again. But one of those times, his eyes were open.
I sucked in a breath, and a mouthful of river water along with it, then spat it out, coughing and hacking. He did not seem to notice or respond, but the eyes—that was a good sign, wasn’t it? I decided to take it as such, and redoubled my efforts.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was probably much less, a patch of sand appeared up ahead. I swam toward it as best I could one handed, but didn’t believe that it was real until my wobbly legs touched solid ground. I dragged Ray and I onto the little beach, and then just lay there, gasping and panting and laughing in uncontrollable spirts of giggles at the sky, I wasn’t sure why.
The air was beautiful, the sun was beautiful, the world was beautiful, and we were alive! Somehow. I giggled again.
I should have been exhausted after our experience, and I was. But euphoria also buzzed in my veins, so much so that I could hardly lie still. I wiggled my toes against the sand, and felt the waves lap at them. I did not even try to process all that I had learned; it was too soon. And my mind was in no mood for it, no mood at all. Instead, I had a sense of expectancy running through me that I did not recognize. I finally realized that I was waiting for the next act of this strange play that I seemed to have stumbled into.
And judging by the spear that suddenly appeared in my face, it had arrived.
“Gah!” Ray yelled, suddenly coming alive and launching himself off the sand. I managed to catch him by the hem of what remained of his tunic before he did anyone an injury, but it was a close thing.
“What are you doing? What’s the matter with you?” he spluttered, turning to look at me, his face coated with sand.
I just nodded at the individual holding the spear. He had pale skin and gray eyes, and a shock of black hair that rather reminded me of Ray’s. It was cut shorter, however, or was mostly bundled under the soft knitted cap he wore. His clothes marked him as a peasant: a tunic made from what looked like brown wool, tight, lightweight hose in scarlet, and a pair of old brown boots that sagged around his ankles.
