I heard the rustle of clothes, then felt something soft smack into my forehead. “Hey!” I said, knocked out of my wallowing. I looked up, affronted.
Mari’s linen shirt was wadded up in my lap, and she was standing a couple yards away, shimmying out of the cargo pants she’d changed into two anchor points back. Once she was out of her pants, she balled them up and threw them at me too.
I caught the pants instinctively. “Seriously, Mars?” I said, throwing them right back at her.
She swatted the pants away, the corner of her mouth twitching with barely suppressed laughter. Down to just her underthings, she planted her hands on her hips and stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m bored,” she whined and stomped her foot. “Come play with me!”
She looked so ridiculous, standing there in her lacy pink bra and panties, pouting like a child, that I couldn’t help but smile. “Fine,” I said, laughing under my breath and shaking my head. I shrugged out of my coat and laid it on the boulder, then bent down to untie my bootlaces.
Mari backed away from the edge of the pool a couple steps, then took a running leap into the water. “Cannonball!” she yelled, a moment before her balled-up body broke the surface of the water, splashing us all.
I closed my eyes and turned my face away, but the water still soaked the entire left side of my body. I gasped, surprised by just how warm the water was. “Oh, you’re going to get it now,” I said, eyes narrowing as I kicked off my boots. I unbuckled my belt and shed my pants, and I was already running toward the edge of the pool as I yanked my tank top over my head.
Mari squealed, diving under the surface and out of the way.
I hit the water feetfirst and let myself sink all the way down to the bottom. The pool was quite a bit deeper than it looked from above. The moment my toes touched smooth stone, the ground rocked with a tremor.
I bent my knees, then sprang back up to the surface of the pool, sucking in a breath the moment I broke through. I brushed the hair out of my eyes and spat out the water I’d taken in during my massive inhale, spinning around so I could see the others.
Syris was in the process of undressing, and Susie was untying her sneakers. Mari was nowhere in sight.
“Was that a shift?” I asked, treading water.
“It was,” Dom said as the others nodded.
Mari popped up a few feet away, gasping for air. “It’s a marsh,” she said, eyes on me. “I just checked. Definitely not anything I would call ‘Sky Mountain.’”
I glanced at the waterfall, fighting the urge to look for myself.
“One down,” Mari said, “two to go.”
Re moved to the mossy patch near the edge of the pool and sat, one knee upraised. “Less than four hours now,” he said.
“Four more hours—still?” I said, unable to hide the hint of whine in my voice.
“That’s better than five,” Mari added, giving me a pointed look.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said, kicking my feet up so I was floating on my back.
She’d been right about the water helping. It didn’t actually diminish the withdrawal symptoms, but the constantly shifting water lapping against my skin did provide a bit of a distraction.
As my body floated, my mind roamed. Four hours was better than five, but what if we had to wait like this at every anchor point from here to the grove? It usually took us an hour or two to cross a section of Aaru, so the time would add up quickly.
I’d thought that we had it made after waking Joju and allying with Iusaset. Carson wasn’t even a problem anymore. But I hadn’t realized we’d yet to face our greatest enemy: time.
There was no avoiding it now. Time was not on our side. With each passing minute, Nik inched closer and closer to death.
And if he died, so would the rest of the universe.
23
I hung out in the pool until the second shift, which connected the anchor point behind the waterfall to a peaceful grassy plain. That time, I did check for myself. After I emerged from the shallow cavern behind the waterfall, I swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out, then dried off, dressed, and sat on the boulder to wait. And wait.
And wait . . .
It seemed to take forever for the third shift to happen, but it was probably only an hour or so. Finally, the ground shook, as always happened with a shift. But this time, the tremors put us all on high alert. I jumped to my feet, as did the others, everyone looking to Joju for direction.
He stood calmly and walked toward the pool, first wading across, then swimming when he reached the deeper part near the center. The rest of us followed like a bunch of ducklings trailing after their mama duck. We passed through the waterfall and entered the shallow cavern concealed behind it. The anchor point archway was at the deepest part of the cave, a symbol made up of three intersecting triangles marking the keystone.
“You may wish to change your clothes here,” Joju told us through Re, a small pile of leather and furs appearing on the cave floor by his feet. He shed his dripping clothing and, piece by piece, started to dress in his primitive cold-weather attire.
One glance through the archway told me why. “Sky Mountain” was definitely an appropriate name for the section of Aaru we were about to enter. It looked like it had been taken straight out of those documentaries of people climbing—and often dying—on Mount Everest. Snowy mountains with jagged peaks and expansive glacier fields stretched out as far as the eye could see. The sky was a clear, crystal blue, but gusts of wind blew the powdery top layer of snow around, making the ground look fuzzy. To say that the scene on the other side of the archway looked cold would be an extreme understatement. It looked downright freezing.
I followed Joju’s lead, thinking into existence a small pile of my own winter clothing. Around me, the others did the same. My whole outfit was fitted, insulated, and waterproof. And black. I added some fur-lined lace-up boots with a spiked tread—the closest thing to combat boots I could think up—and a long, thick shearling coat with a fluffy fur-trimmed hood. I could barely fit my sword harness on over the coat. If that thing couldn’t keep me warm as we trekked along a snowy mountain ridge, nothing would.
Mari, Dom, and the twins ended up in more traditional mountaineering clothes, but I could see Mari eyeing my outfit with just a hint of envy. I couldn’t blame her. The coat and boots were about as badass as winter wear could get. Oddly enough, Anapa and Re changed into clothing a lot more like Joju’s, and I chalked it up to their own ancient origins.
The trek through Sky Mountain was treacherous and slow going, but luckily we didn’t have to cover all that much distance. We reached the next anchor point after a couple hours. And thankfully, this time we didn’t have to wait at all.
Joju led us right on through to a strange landscape that reminded me of footage I’d seen from the moon landings, then to an arctic tundra after that, then to a canyon cut through by a raging river so deep it put the Grand Canyon to shame. That was our quickest stop, with the river carrying our freshly thought-up boats from one anchor point to the other in barely fifteen minutes.
I wasn’t sure if Joju strategically altered the route we took through Aaru to one that would keep us moving—and keep me from succumbing to another panicked outburst—or if it was just pure luck, but there were no more layovers at anchor points. We were going nonstop, the anchor points we needed lining up at just the right time. It was smooth sailing and green lights, all the way, and whatever the reason, I was grateful. The only thing keeping me from collapsing into a blubbering ball of pain was the need to keep moving forward. If I was moving, I was getting closer to the grove. Closer to Isfet. Closer to Nik and the relief that would only come once my part in this was finally over.
I lost count after a while, but I would’ve guessed we’d passed through at least twenty anchor points since Sky Mountain. It helped that we didn’t have to stop to eat or sleep. In fact, the others all seemed to be filled with an endless supply of energy. I was the only one showing any sign
s of exhaustion, but I attributed that to my unique situation and pretended not to see the increasingly frequent furtive glances thrown my way.
I could keep going. I could do it. I had to.
When we reached anchor point number who-knows on a grassy knoll, the archway surrounded by monoliths, Joju took one look through the archway, then turned to me. “We must wait,” he told me, his meaning relayed through Re. His eyes were filled with so much pity that I hardly needed the translation to understand him.
I sighed, shoulders slumping. I felt wrung out and raw, little more than a bundle of fear and throbbing nerve endings. My headache had long been surpassed by the searing pain circulating through every part of me like lava through my veins. I felt light-headed and dizzy, the trees creeping up the sides of the hill tilting this way and that like buoys bobbing lazily in the sea. I placed one hand on the nearest monolith, hoping doing so might allay my vertigo.
Not so much . . .
I glanced at the archway. It led to a desert that reminded me so much of the desert we’d passed through immediately after leaving Dom’s wooded section of Aaru that it felt like we’d just run around in a big circle, ending up right back where we’d started. I knew that wasn’t the case—the symbol carved into the keystone wasn’t the triangle signifying that other desert, but two intersecting circles, one carved deeper than the other, reminding me of a solar eclipse—but knowing and feeling are two very different things. My heart and mind were in a disconnect, and I couldn’t suppress the panic and paranoia setting in.
What if Joju was tricking us? What if he’d only agreed to lead us to Isfet as a way to keep us preoccupied while he wore down the clock? What if leading us around in circles was his way of protecting her from us?
My breaths started coming faster, but I couldn’t get enough air.
We were running out of time. Nik hadn’t said anything about it during our last few check-ins, but he’d looked like hell, and I had no doubt that he’d reached the losing-consciousness phase of bonding withdrawals. He had a day or two left at best.
I sucked in air, but I couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. Funny, considering I was technically an energy being now, and I didn’t really have lungs, which meant I didn’t need oxygen. But that didn’t matter to my not-brain or my not-body. I couldn’t breathe. And I desperately needed to.
I bent over, hands on my knees. Black spots danced around the edges of my vision.
Suddenly, people were all around me, touching me and asking me questions. It was sweet, them caring. But they were only making it worse, except I couldn’t tell them that, because I couldn’t breathe.
“Get back!” Dom said, voice a whipcrack. “Give her some space.” He crouched down in front of me, placing his hands on either side of my face. “Look at me, little sister,” he ordered, and I was so out of my mind that I obeyed without question.
The moment my eyes made contact with his, everything else slipped out of focus.
“You are safe,” Dom said. “We are almost there . . . just one more anchor point after this. Just one more section of Aaru. We are almost there, little sister. You are doing so well, and I know this must be incredibly difficult, but we are almost there. You are almost done. Just hold on a little bit longer, and then you will be reunited with your Nik, and it will all be over.”
Soon, I would be reunited with Nik. That knowledge cracked through the panic, allowing logic to resurface. As my mind cleared, I was able to process the rest of what Dom had said. We were close. The grove was only two anchor points away. Isfet was almost within reach.
I let out a pathetic sob and collapsed against Dom. I didn’t even care that the others were seeing my breakdown. My weakest moment. All I cared about was seeing Nik again—even if it was just for a few moments before Isfet took me over entirely, it would be enough—and Dom knew that; it was why he’d dangled that carrot in front of me to pull me out of the panicked hysteria.
Dom wrapped his arms around me, holding me close. He rested his cheek on the top of my head and murmured things in French that I couldn’t understand, but his soothing tone made it sound strangely like a lullaby.
The earth groaned, and Dom barely had a chance to brace one arm against the monolith before the ground shook under the force of a shift.
Dom raised his head, looking at Joju. “Is this the right one?”
I recognized Joju’s word for “yes.”
“We’re supposed to go through that?” Mari said, voice incredulous.
Sniffling, I pulled away from Dom enough that I could see the scene through the archway. Eyes widening, I stepped away from him completely. “Holy shit,” I said, voice barely audible as I numbly approached the archway.
Through it, I had a clear view from atop a high, rocky cliffside that dropped off into a violently raging sea. A perfect storm. The sky was a mass of dark, angry clouds punctuated by flashes of lightning. Far below, the midnight swells reached impossible heights, crashing into one another in an explosion of spraying water. This was no earthly storm. This was a thing of nightmares.
And we were supposed to cross it.
I looked up at the keystone. Two diagonal lines crossing at their midpoints were carved into the stone. “X marks the spot,” I said, voice hollow.
Mari let out a burst of miserable laughter, but it died out quickly. “We’re so going to die,” she said. “Again.”
24
“There has to be another way to get there,” I said, turning on Joju. I glanced at Re, who was standing on the opposite side of the monoliths. “Tell him he needs to find us another route.” I pointed back at the archway and the harrowing scene beyond it. “This isn’t going to work.”
Re moved closer to Joju and relayed what I’d said.
Joju shook his head, then looked at Re and responded.
Re’s countenance grew grimmer and grimmer as Joju spoke, and when he turned his attention back to me, his wary expression told me I wouldn’t like Joju’s answer. “This is the only way,” Re told me. “The only anchor point leading to the grove is at the bottom of that sea.”
My mouth fell open. “The bottom?”
Gods . . . this was so much worse than I’d thought. And I’d already thought it was worst-case-scenario bad.
Joju was talking again, and I not-so-patiently waited until he was finished for Re’s translation. I crossed my arms over my chest, tapping the toe of my boot and raising my eyebrows.
“He is very sorry,” Re said, and a quick glance at Joju’s face confirmed that. “He originally built a city here, intending it as the place for all Nejerets to dwell once they entered Aaru. But soon after a few more Nejerets arrived, a woman named Tala, she became obsessed with Isfet. She begged Joju to take her to the grove and introduce her, but he refused, because he knew her intentions were impure. Like so many others, Tala was looking for a way out—a way back.” Re looked to Joju, once again waiting as the other man spoke.
When Joju finished, it was Re’s turn once more. “One day, Tala became impatient and snuck into the grove. Joju doesn’t know exactly what happened in there, but he never saw Tala again. And before he could pass through the archway to find out what happened, the Beast appeared and drove Joju and the other Nejerets away. He created the raging sea to slow the Beast while the others fled, then formed the rest of the maze that has become Aaru around this place, hoping to contain the Beast.”
“Well, that didn’t work out so well, did it?” I commented.
“No,” Re said, “it didn’t.”
“There has to be some trick,” I said, looking from Re to Joju and back. “Some secret route under the sea or something . . .”
Re relayed my words, and Joju shook his head again.
“I hate to state the obvious,” Mari said, “but can’t we just create a boat? A big, armored, stormproof boat?” She shrugged. “Then we can, I don’t know, dive down to the anchor point once we reach the right spot?”
“No boat will survive that storm for long,” Dom s
aid absently. He was staring into the archway, focus distant. “But dive . . .” He looked at Mari. “That might just work.”
Mari guffawed, her face a mask of incredulity. “You can’t be suggesting we jump into that,” she said, pointing to the sea through the archway.
“Actually,” Dom said, “that is exactly what I am suggesting.” He moved closer to the archway. “The drop is far enough that the momentum from the fall will push us deep beneath the surface of the water . . . deep beneath the violent current. We can travel along the bottom, where it will be calmer, until we reach the last anchor point.”
“But won’t the fall destroy our gear?” I said, imagining scuba diving equipment scattered all across the surface of the water.
“No,” Mari said, and I looked at her. She’d gone from incredulous to excited in a heartbeat. “No, the fall won’t destroy our gear . . . because we won’t be using any.”
Dom snapped his fingers. “Precisely!”
I looked back and forth between them, brow furrowing and lips pressed together in an almost-frown. “I’m not following . . .”
“Think about it, Kat,” Mari said. “We can create anything here—anything we can imagine.” She was practically bouncing as she spoke. “How about an At mask holding an endless supply of oxygen? All you’d need is a wet suit to keep you warm and a pair of flippers to help propel you through the water, and you’d be able to zip around underwater indefinitely.”
“Jesus . . .” I was staring at Mari, horrified by her—their—idea. “You’re serious.”
“Yep,” she said with a nod. “Dead serious.”
“I believe the idea is sound,” Anapa said, exchanging a look and a nod with Re.
Susie and Syris appeared to be about as excited about jumping off the cliff as I felt, which was the opposite of Mari, who was visibly giddy.
A mask appeared in Mari’s hands, clear and slightly contoured to the shape of a human face. She fitted it over her head, looked this way and that, then nodded and pushed it up so it was resting on top of her head. “Here,” she said, thinking another mask into existence and handing it to Dom.
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