by Mike Truk
“We have to hurry,” said Neveah, flying to the cavern’s side and depositing a stunned-looking Emma on a ledge. “A half-dozen swam into the tunnel toward our friends.”
“Oh shit,” I said, hurrying to drop off Brielle. “After them!”
“Wait!” I heard Brielle shout, but I dove into the water, spearing under the curtain of stalactites that led into the tunnel, leaving behind the bloody water for the clear.
There was no time for conservation. I poured magic into Manipura and churned through the water. Neveah slipped past me, going even faster, and ahead I saw the wavering tails of the first of the eels.
Neveah and I struck simultaneously, cleaving it apart with golden light and shadow magic. The monster contorted, its lower extremity ruined, and turned, instantly obliterated.
We knifed past it, cutting through the cloud of blood.
Imogen and Little Meow were alone on the far side. Imogen could handle herself, could cast levenbolts like -
Oh, shit.
Levenbolts at submerged foes while standing in the same water?
I let out a scream of panic, bubbles ripped from my mouth, and bolted forward, passing Neveah just as I saw thrashing bodies appear in the luminous murk ahead.
The urge to swipe Shard through the whole mass of it - to sever coils asunder with a flash of golden light - was almost overwhelming. But doing so would mean hitting my companions as well. Instead, I powered forward, lungs near bursting, and slammed into the rearmost snake like a lead-filled dumpster fired from the world’s largest Gauss rifle.
The coils were heavy with muscle, slick with slime, and as I cut my way through it, I heard bones snap within. Distinct clicks and pops sounded as the snake was wrenched through the water by my velocity.
I flew up, bursting out of the water in an explosion of foam and blood, then immediately stared down, taking in the scene. Imogen and Little Meow were gone, dragged underwater, wrapped in coils; everything was obscured by crashing waves and rippling bodies.
I brought the Vam Mantra down like a knight slamming down his visor, immediately cutting myself off from panic and horror, and set to surgically dismembering the snakes. Slashing down with flashes of golden light, I separated them into writhing, bleeding chunks.
Neveah leaped out of the water like a dolphin arching over a wave. Instead of diving back down, she skimmed forward over the thrashing combat, Morghothilim dipping down here, there, with almost untoward delicacy, wrecking ruin wherever she touched.
Seconds.
Seconds was all it took for us to slice and dice the three or four snakes into huge, quivering gobbets of flesh.
I didn’t wait. Diving down where I could feel Imogen screaming, plunging into that frigid water, I yanked her free of the loosening coils, wrenching her into the air. Her braids were half-dissolved, glasses gone, eyes glassy with shock. Blood was streaming from her shoulder - far too much of it, where no doubt a snake had clamped down with those horrific needle-teeth.
“Imogen? Imogen!” I wanted to shake her, startle her back into lucidity, but restrained the impulse. Pulling the Vam back around me, I wore it now like a shroud, and in that moment of emotional stillness turned to see if Neveah had rescued the sole person who could help.
Little Meow lolled senselessly in Neveah’s arms, mask wrenched down and to the side.
“We need to get them to Emma,” I said, voice strangely calm. “But they can’t take the deep breath necessary to reach the far side.”
“I’ll fetch her,” said Neveah, voice also eerily calm. She surged out of the water to lay Little Meow gently on the ridge of caramel stone that formed the river’s bank. With no hesitation, no other words, Neveah dove back into the water, zipping out of sight at an impossible speed, down the river toward Brielle and Emma.
I flew over to Little Meow and settled down, holding Imogen in my arms. How the fuck did one tourniquet a shoulder? I didn’t even have bandages, much less a cloak I could tear apart.
No matter, I had to do something. I tore off my shirt, bunched it up, and pressed the sodden clump into the oozing mass of pulpy red flesh.
Imogen let out a low moan, turning her head away as if caught up in a nightmare.
Fuck, there’d be puncture wounds in the back of her shoulder, too. Was it enough to just apply pressure on the front? Was it a waste of time?
Imogen’s left arm was badly twisted, clearly broken or dislocated. She was breathing in rapid, erratic pants. Her face was pale, growing paler, with purple smears appearing under her eyes.
She looked so small, so vulnerable. I could barely believe it was the same Imogen I knew and loved.
“Come on,” I hissed, turning to glare at the river. “Come on!”
Nothing but the silence of the Flowstone Stairs. The waves and eddies calmed across the river’s surface, making the carnage Neveah and I had wrought even more evident as clarity returned.
“Stay with me,” I said, cupping Imogen’s cheek. It was clammy.
Little Meow lay like a discarded doll, and for a moment I thought she wasn’t breathing. Her chest barely rose and fell. They’d been constricted. How badly were their bones broken? Internal bleeding?
I maintained pressure on Imogen’s shoulder, feeling my heart pounding, pounding, pounding; all I could do was will with brutal intensity that Imogen would not die. I stared at her with utter ferocity, pounding her with my thoughts, willing her to continue breathing, to not go into blood-loss induced shock.
The water behind me erupted explosively, Neveah bursting forth to fly right at me, Emma in her arms.
“Here!” I cried, moving aside. “Quickly!”
Emma was gasping for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, but she nodded jerkily and dropped beside Imogen, hands going to her shoulder, pale skin immediately turning red as she pressed into the bloody clothing.
“Talk to me,” I ordered.
“Not good, not good.” Emma closed her eyes, forced her breathing to slow. “A lot of damage. Inside. Things feel loose, slippery, not right.”
I bit back further questions, allowing Emma to work. Moving over instead to Little Meow, I lifted her so she rested on my lap, then hesitated. Should I remove her mask while she was hurt? Or would that be a profound transgression?
I opted to leave it on.
“Careful,” said Neveah. “You could make her injuries worse.”
I froze. Had lifting her onto my lap been a bad move?
It was too late now.
Imogen let out a cry; something weird and disturbing happened to her pelvic cradle, which shifted under her skirt, clicking and moving back into place.
“Fuck,” hissed Emma, eyes tightly screwed shut. “Fuck fuck fuck.”
I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Imogen couldn’t die here. Not like this. Not so close to Malkuth. It just didn’t make sense. Didn’t feel right.
“Internal bleeding is stopped,” whispered Emma, hunching her shoulders, leaning into the healing. “Now I’m moving bones… her ribs were crushed… lung punctured…”
Little Meow’s breathing was growing erratic - little hitches that lasted too long, only to unlock and become a shallow gasp which became another hitch, then held.
We were losing her.
Tears burned my eyes.
Neveah stood to one side, Morghothilim held at the ready, face an impassive mask. I hated her then - her complete control, her iron will. I wanted to see something in those dark eyes, some hint of my fear, my terror at losing Imogen and Little Meow.
“There,” said Emma, sagging back onto her heels, hands falling away. “She’s… she’s safe. She’ll live. But I need to see to -”
She turned to Little Meow, placing her hands on her chest, and grimaced. “Fuck,” she whispered, and ducked her chin, hunching her shoulders and setting to work once more.
I had to do something to help her. But what? I had absolutely no healing power of my own.
“She’s even worse off,” said Emma. “So muc
h damage, so much wrong…”
“Can you heal her?” asked Neveah, voice clinical.
“I…”
“Can you heal her?”
“I’m trying.” Emma bit her lip so hard I saw blood spread across the seam of her lips. “But I used too much on Imogen.”
I had to do something. I closed my eyes, dropped into a cross-legged position, and flew into my reservoir.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but allowed instinct and desperate need to guide me. Down the golden filament I flew, to the burning cord extended to Emma’s aperture.
I willed it to open, and so dire was my command that the door irised open immediately.
For a moment I hung there, uncertain, then grabbed a fistful of the golden filament and dragged it with me, along the burning radial cord, right to Emma’s aperture, and into her sanctum.
It felt like pulling a tendon clear of bones. Strange and unnatural and wrong, but fuck wrong, I wasn’t going to let Little Meow die because Emma lacked a little juice.
Emma hovered in the center of her sphere, face contorted in effort, and I could sense how little magic she had left, how quickly she’d run dry.
Heaving the filament along, I flew to her side, and with a grunt, I looped the filament over her head. I dropped it, allowing its resistance to draw it tight about Emma’s floating body.
Then I put my hand to the golden thread and willed it to life.
The interior of Emma’s sanctum blazed as if a touch had been dropped into an ocean of gasoline. Aureate fire blazed from the filament, setting Emma’s spirit body aflame, spreading out to form a corona that burned like St. Elmo’s fire all over her.
Emma’s eyes snapped open wide, sightless, and she cried out.
I opened my own eyes, delirious, nauseated by vertigo, and saw golden fire burst from Emma’s hands where they lay across Little Meow’s body. The flames rose a foot in height, and the whole world was bleached of color in comparison to that brilliance.
Emma screamed, the sound someone might make when the rollercoaster finally tips over the ride’s apex and begins its long, hurtling descent into hell.
“What did you do?” demanded Neveah, voice cutting through the shrill cry.
“I don’t know!”
But it was too late to undo it - the fire sank deep into Little Meow, becoming little more than a glimmer that outlined Emma’s fingers, then Little Meow sat up with a gasp as if coming back from the dead. Her body was lined with light, hands flying to her throat, shoulders heaving, and Emma collapsed senseless to the ground.
“I - what - I -” was all Little Meow could manage. I saw her blink, taking in the scene, but not comprehending any of it.
I dove back into my reservoir, flying into Emma’s sanctum, and saw her still burning, that golden light immolating her, the filament cutting through the very fabric of her spirit. I seized it with both hands and yanked it free, released, and the filament whipped out of her sanctum.
The golden fire immediately went out. Emma’s spirit sagged, returning to its former shape, the incision made by the filament fleshing out once more.
Emma, I thought at her. Emma, you with me?
I took her in my arms, held her tight, and stared with desperation into her face. What had I done?
A soft light began to fill the sanctum, soft like candlelight, and I opened my eyes to see Little Meow with both hands on Emma’s shoulders.
Healing her in turn.
“What happened?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Little Meow said grimly, clearly focusing on her magic. “Leave me be.”
I dove back into my reservoir, into the spirit world, then into Emma’s sanctum anew. I saw the warm glow playing over Emma’s slumbering form like the living lines of the aurora borealis, making Emma more beautiful than I’d ever seen, beatifying her. I saw in Emma’s face a slumbering strength, a nobility of purpose, that I’d never seen before.
I hovered there, feeling helpless all over again, hesitant, unsure of what I’d done, what I could now do.
But one thing was certain: through Emma, I’d saved Little Meow.
At what cost?
A hand on my shoulder brought me back to the real world. Neveah.
“I’m going back to Brielle,” she said. “We can’t leave her alone for long.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah. Good thinking.”
Neveah twisted her sodden mass of hair into an impromptu rope, tossed it behind her shoulder, and dove back into the water.
She was simply indefatigable.
I sat in silence, moving Imogen’s slumbering form into my lap much as I’d just held Little Meow. I watched as the other healed Emma, waiting, keeping silent.
A minute or so later Neveah returned with Brielle, both moving to the bank and there crouching to watch in silence.
Brielle, for once, asked no questions, simply staring with deep, rivetted concern. Even a glance was enough for me to see the love in Brielle’s eyes. She took Emma’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“Come back to us,” she whispered, and said nothing more.
Little Meow worked for a short while longer - perhaps five or so minutes - before sitting back with a sigh. “There. I’ve done what I can.”
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Brielle immediately.
“Nothing that I can tell, and yet, everything.” She immediately raised a hand to forestall our questioning. “She’s suffered no wounds, but she feels akin to a burned-out lightbulb. I tried to just restore the parameters through which her magic flows. If you imagine them as the banks of a river, they were nearly washed away completely by her act of healing. I tried to restore them to the original formation.”
“I poured too much power into her,” I whispered. “I looped the golden filament within my reservoir around her spirit body and willed the Source to help her.”
“And it did,” said Neveah. “She brought you back from death.”
Little Meow nodded numbly. “I don’t remember much, but a sense of being yanked back, hauled up into the light at a tremendous speed, given no choice in the matter whatsoever.” She sounded awed, almost reverent.
“So, what do we do now?” asked Brielle.
“We wait,” said Little Meow. “I’ll tend to her. And if we’re lucky, she’ll awaken.”
“And Imogen?” I asked.
“Let me see.” Little Meow scooted over, placing a hand on Imogen’s brow. She frowned, a slender vertical line appearing between her brows, then exhaled softly. “She’d hurt, but she’ll awaken soon. I’d finish healing her, but I want to save my power for Emma.”
“All right,” I said, reluctant to accept her limitations.
We spent the next few hours waiting. I rescued Imogen’s glasses from the bottom of the river. Brielle set her blade to burning began drying her belongings before it, though we’d soon have to dive back into the river. Imogen and Emma both slept on, and after a while I forced myself to meditate, to bond with Muladhara and cleanse my magic, restoring my reserves.
It was impossible to tell the passage of time in those depths. Occasionally a droplet of water would fall from the tip of a stalactite, sending ripples across the river’s glassine surface, ripples which ran up against the floating segments of murdered snakes. Other than that, silence.
Perhaps three hours passed, perhaps five. Time lost all meaning, stretching out strangely, and it took all my mental fortitude to simply meditate, to focus, and not start pacing or checking on Emma every few minutes.
They both awakened at roughly the same time. Emma muttered and rolled onto her side, drawing Brielle immediately over, just as Imogen sat up, hand going to her shoulder with a wince.
“Hey,” I said, not knowing which to go to first. Relief spread through me like the bright rays of a sunrise. “Thank god.”
“My shoulder,” said Imogen. “Feels like a giant snake near bit my arm off.”
“Good guess,” said Neveah with a wry smile.
“I… yes.” Emma pressed her hand to her brow, winced. “Bad headache though. Feels like I drank two bottles of cheap vodka last night.”
“Better that than dead,” said Brielle, then her breath caught, and she pulled the other girl into a tight hug.
I handed Imogen her spectacles. “Other than the shoulder, how do you feel?”
“Rough.” She stood up, picking her sodden dress away from her body. “But I’ve been worse. Good to go.”
It was my turn to pull someone into an embrace, but I did so carefully. Imogen squeezed me hard, and whispered, “Thanks for coming back for me.”
“You kidding?” I said, pulling away with a warm smile. “I’m still kicking myself for not trying to take everyone in one go.”
“Wouldn’t have worked,” said Neveah, voice matter of fact. “Too much drag in the water.”
“Emma?” I turned to her. “How are you feeling? Other than hungover? Ready to go on?”
“If you need more time, just say so,” said Brielle.
“No, I feel… I don’t know. Fine? Otherwise? Actually, the headache’s kinda going away even as we speak.”
“That’s good.” The understatement of the year. “I think Neveah and I cleared out all the remaining snakes, which means the way there should be clear. Let’s keep moving.”
In truth, our loss of momentum had me worried. We’d originally burned bright with purpose, but the lost hours and near-catastrophic losses had blunted my sense of focus. I felt irresolute, worried. If we were taking such a beating already, how would we handle the Nithing-Lord?
“Let’s mix it up this time,” said Brielle. “Emma and I go first. Or last. Either way.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine,” said Emma.
“No, change is good,” I said. “Let’s get to the far side already. For safety’s sake, Imogen and Little Meow, wait out of the water, yeah?”
“No problem there,” said Imogen.
I embraced Emma, and she linked her arms around my neck. “Glad you came back,” I said softly to her as I lifted off the ground.
“You couldn’t keep me away with a stick,” she said, something of her old humor back in her voice.