Margo opens her mouth to answer, but Ian cuts her off.
“You got a problem with power?” He cocks his head to the side. “Because you’re traveling around with someone with more than anyone I’ve ever seen before.” Suddenly he leaps across to the limb Cameron and Margo are on, which shakes under the added weight. “Yeah, I’ve got power, just like every other Waterperson down there.”
“That’s exactly why I don’t trust you.” Cameron leans in toward him.
“Aren’t you being a bit hypocritical?” Ian steps forward, too.
“No one invited you to come along. Now get lost.” Cameron shoves Ian’s chest.
“Guys!” Awkwardly maneuvering around Cameron, Margo is able to wedge herself between the boys. “Can we talk about this on lower ground?” She turns back to the edge of the wall, a sheer cliff of water. They have to be close to twenty stories up.
“Fine, but Ian stays behind.” Cameron says, stubbornly clenching his jaw muscles.
She catches his shoulder as he turns away and melts into his body. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she breathes in his scent. “Cam, just moments ago I was certain I’d never see your face again.” He tenses in her embrace. “But because of Ian, I did. He helped bring me back to life, and now he wants to help us again. We’ve hit a wall in our travels, literally, and he showed up willing to guide us past it. Why wouldn’t we take his offer?”
Cameron doesn’t speak. He just stands there, grasping each of her words. Ian waits the silence out, too. Finally, Cameron pulls his head back up and says, “He’s only going to help us through. Nothing else.”
He pulls away from Margo’s arms, and disappears over the edge of the water.
Chapter Fourteen: Strength Lacking
It is a risky feat to cling tightly to slippery branches while the spray of the sea hits their faces. They lower themselves one branch at a time on the massive tree half-engulfed in the Water Forest, the billowing wall casting glittery splotches of light upon the leaves.
The boy from the water has yet to speak another word. He silently swings effortlessly and with more grace than both Margo and Cameron combined. Cameron finds this quite bothersome, but bites his tongue respecting Margo’s decision to allow Ian to stay.
In unison, they clamber as far away from the water, as their branches allow before bowing against the weight, when a shift in the wind sends the water creeping precariously close, nearly pulling them back inside its glistening depths. Ian explains how the trees are a part of the Water Forest itself allowing them to flow in and out at will, unlike people or objects that may get caught up in its current. Once taken in, the only escape from the water is through the surface — which, he remarks, can have risks of its own.
Margo releases a tight breath as the water slowly takes its original form. An inch at a time, the tree is released into open air, and they are able to maneuver back to sturdier limbs.
The branch she wraps her hand around oozes black grime between her fingers. Margo makes a face at the cold, mushy texture beneath her palm. She’s certain the tree picked up more slimy materials during the last wave but thinks little of it. She lowers her leg to the branch below, but when her foot catches on the now algae-covered limb, it slips and gravity overtakes her. For a second, all she can imagine are the dozens of branches below meeting her body. But the fall is short-lived. Her breath escapes her before she can even let out a yelp. Fabric pulls taut across her chest, stretching to the point of creating an audible pop.
Margo rocks gently, hanging perilously by the thin cotton of her blouse. A few loose strands of hair ruffle before her line of sight, and she turns ever so slightly to see the boy who has silently caught hold of her: one fist gripping the fabric of the back of her shirt dangling Margo like a grocery sack, the other holding tight to a branch and supporting both of their weight.
“Twice.” The lone word is all she can whisper. Ian has managed to save her life twice within the hour.
Cameron calls out for her and appears somewhat relieved to have allowed Ian to stay. “Be careful,” he pleads. “And watch where you put your feet.”
“You have got to be the clumsiest of all Marks to have ever existed,” Ian barks. The short and cunning statement stops her short. “How long has it been since you received those things, anyway?”
A second pop sounds as a seam in her shirt nearly bursts.
“My marks?” Margo wishes he would put her down. “Four days.”
She feels the fabric pull upward as his fist tightens. Is he angry with her? Ian exhales. “And you plan to escape this world in your condition? Clumsy as you are? Trapped in the Water Forest. Nearly plummeting to your death.” His laugh is empty.
“Please,” Margo whispers. “I — I don’t like heights!”
“Oh?” The fabric slips ever so slightly. “Well then, I think it’s about time we break you of that.”
“What do you think —” Cameron shouts from above.
But it’s too late. Ian gives her a hard sway and releases her into the air. Margo is weightless, spinning head over foot between trees. Everything stills; all is silent but for the scream that escapes her lips. The world whirls violently around her as she flips through the air. She claws for a rescuing hand that will not appear.
Her breathing slows, as does the spinning around her. The wind, the waves. The droplets of sea spray pass as if they are translucent, beady planets floating in orbit. She catches her reflection in each bead. The Jamyrian wonderland reveals itself; the world has been hidden under a layer of deadened skin, and as the snake leaves behind a dull coat, every aspect shines anew. A sharpness floods her vision, capturing every detail in an instance. Every crackled design of each leaf. The gritty texture of bark. Wisps of clouds overhead. Every bead of water on her slick skin is a protuberance. The sounds of the forest intensify, from robust tenors to trilling sopranos. She’s certain her hearing range has greatened as well.
To have thought the colors were vivid before nearly brings her to laughter.
A branch nears, moving slower than any other passing object. While contemplating why this is, Margo’s hand outstretches before she can will it to do so, grasping tightly to the slow-moving branch. Her legs and body keep moving toward the ground, but her grip proves strong, completely halting her fall in a sickening jerk.
Once she stops swaying back and forth, Margo lets go of the branch and drops to the limb below with ease.
She reels her head back to gaze at the boys overhead, realizing just how far she’s fallen. Cameron, who notices she’s safe, gives Ian a piece of his mind on the matter. She wishes he would be quiet and understand the revelation she’s having. Like the snow melting into this vivacious land, she is changing into something greater.
Margo meets Ian’s dark expression. He stares knowingly as Cameron continues to shout obscenities in his face, but rather than arguing back, he steps suddenly out into the open air, just barely missing Cameron’s shoulder who is standing two limbs directly beneath him, landing on the branch next to Margo.
She recognizes the focus in his eyes as something similar to her personal revelation. Can he be marked, too? She doubts he can conceal a mark while wearing barely more than a few seaweeds wrappings around his legs. And he certainly doesn’t look like one of the Queen’s Crew. “Just who are you?” she whispers.
“Someone who’s taken an interest in Marks over time.” He leans in until she can feel his breath on her forehead. “You see, I’m anxious to find the way out of here.”
“Isn’t that my job?”
The smirk returns but for only a second. He takes a few steps back, and looks longingly into the Water Forest. “Trust me, I have more at stake.”
The wall of water sways in the shifting winds. Though neither move, Margo’s sharper senses have already planned her route of escape were the waves to overtake them. The path is quite obvious now that —
“TANNER!” Cameron rages. He swings down between the two of them, causing Margo’s focus t
o quiver. “I wasn’t finished with you yet! What do you think you’re doing to her? She could have been killed! Are you gonna keep staring in the water like an idiot?!”
“Cameron, shhh!” Margo shouts, pressing her fingers against her temples. The finer details of the world around her blur in and out.
“You lost it,” Ian states.
“Lost it?” asks Cameron too forcefully. “Lost what?! What did you do?!”
“Ahh, Cam!” she groans, annoyed he won’t be quiet. The clarity dissipates, leaving the world a foggy blur of oversaturated colors once more. Has it always been so hard to see? She drops her hands. “It’s gone….”
“Didn’t expect it to last,” says Ian, dropping to the branch below. “Just wanted you to get a glimpse at what being a Mark means. Now it’s up to you to hone your skills so every moment feels like that.”
The towering wall no longer glistens its rippled reflections upon the forest as dusk approaches. The trio meander through the tangling of greenery back to where Margo left Faux hours earlier. She cannot help but wonder how Ian knew to activate those sharper senses. She wishes they’d lasted but is thankful to have experienced it. If anything, it means she only has more to practice.
“Guess I really messed the day up,” says Margo once they reached Faux. “We were supposed meet the Witch by nightfall….”
“You didn’t put the Water Forest there,” Cameron reminds her with a little too much edge to his voice. Though Margo tried her best to explain what happened, Cameron has yet to forgive Ian for the earlier incident.
“You say that like it’s my doing,” Ian snaps.
“Not you specifically. But your kind did.”
“My kind? Believe what you want, but the Queen asked us to move it there. We only did what we were told.”
“The Queen?” Margo asks nervously. She recalls Ian talking with that other Waterperson, Derek, about the Queen but didn’t imagine him to have any direct contact with her.
“Waterpeople work for her,” says Cameron. “That’s why we shouldn’t trust him.”
“Hold it!” Ian holds his hands up in defense. “Yeah, we work for her, but it’s not like we’re her Crew or anything. We were sucked into this position just like you were sucked into this world. I can’t help it if you’re too ignorant to understand that.”
“We just need to get through the water and get out of here.” Cameron says.
“He saw my marks and saved my life,” Margo says firmly. “I trust him.”
He stares down at her, unable to speak.
“What happened to you trusting in my trust?” she asks him. “You said, when we left, that you trusted my decision as the Marked One.”
“I never — That was before he threw you.” But he’s unable to conjure a good argument. “Oh, alright. Fine, Margo.”
“I don’t want you two bickering either.” She points between the two of them.
“Nothing to worry about,” Ian says before turning to Cameron. “Think of this as a business transaction. I help you through, and then we part ways. Done deal.”
“Well, what are you getting out of this?” Cameron mumbles.
“Never mind that,” he says.
“We can stay in that clearing tonight,” says Margo in attempt to change the subject. “But it’s still a little light out. I feel bad for the waste.”
Cameron turns back suddenly, wearing a grin on his face. “I had something in mind.”
She is placed feet apart in a loosened stance in front of Cameron.
Ian rests against a nearby tree, helping himself to a sizable portion of citrosea, now fully clothed seeing as Cameron found it unfit for him to travel in such minimal coverings. Cameron willingly offered him his spare clothes; though, he didn’t have any extra shoes. Ian waved the matter off, stating he prefers to feel the earth as he traverses anyway. He kindly thanked him for his generosity, and the two haven’t spoken since.
“Fists near your face. Stay relaxed.” Cameron demonstrates as he speaks to Margo. “Now, try to take me out.”
Staring at him with uncertainty, Margo doesn’t wish to hurt him and feels rather intimidated. Her tiny fists suddenly feel awkward and bulky atop her skinny wrists.
“Don’t chicken out on me, Margo. This is part of being marked.”
“Expected to fight?” she scoffs. “Why can’t I simply find an escape with wit?”
Cameron’s fists tighten in front of his face. “Because wit gets you killed unless you know how to defend yourself.”
Margo dramatically drops her shoulders before taking her position again. “Fine, Cam.” She focuses, wishing to recall the sharpness from her earlier freefall. “So do you want me to just punch you, or to actually take you out?”
A grin spreads across his face. “Let’s just see what happens, okay?”
He acts as if those were not two completely separate aspects. She shrugs the thought away and no longer hesitates. Her feet carry her to him no longer afraid. The attack is no more real than this world and simply practice for what lies ahead. And he’s strong; he’ll surely block her.
Her back folds over — Ian perks up, spilling his lap-full of citrosea upon the ground — and in a flash twists her body in a whirlwind. Completing the spin, her leg outstretches from above, clocking Cameron directly across the cheekbone. Her boot meets his skin with a sickening sound. A trail of blood litters the air and a cloud of dirt disperses as he hits the ground.
Margo drops to her knees, calling out for Cameron who sits up after a moment and speaks in a slurred manner. “Wow, you’ve really got a kick in you. Have you been working out?” He rubs his cheek and spits blood.
“Does working on your grandparent’s farm count?” She laughs only once she’s certain he’s alright.
Cameron’s brow furrows. “What are you doing working for them?”
“Er, part time job.” It almost sounds like a question, but he responds with only a nod before carefully rising.
“Well, I have to say, that was an impressive maneuver. Let’s try it again.”
Ian clears his throat halting their lesson. “This is utterly unrealistic. I’m stepping in for a moment, if you don’t mind.”
Cameron plants his feet. “Actually, I do mind.”
“Thanks, but I’m more comfortable working with Cameron,” Margo says timidly.
“Well, we wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in the midst of a battle.” Ian crosses his arms and steps between them. “And in a battle, the Queen’s Crew won’t stand there and let you whack them till they fall over. They’re going to fight back. And, no offense,” he speaks to Cameron, “but I don’t think you have the guts to attack her back in these…exercises.” He says the word ‘exercises’ as if it isn’t the appropriate label for what Margo and Cameron are conducting.
“I’m not going to let you fight her!”
“Are you going to fight her?” Ian’s voice is smoothly cruel, yet convincing.
“Maybe we could try it, and just see where it goes,” says Margo.
Hands in tight fists at his side, Cameron simply storms off to the edge of their little clearing to await a chance to fulfill his promise to Nick. To him, it’s no longer worth the argument with her.
“Alright.” Ian speaks only to Margo and is obviously enjoying himself, a rakish smile in place. “Attack me.”
Standing before him, Margo calculates ways to take him down. It’s the first time she’s noticed it: Ian, though only half a foot taller than miniature Margo, is quite menacing. Rather skinny himself, he’s taken the build of a runner: thin but every ounce of his being pure muscle. His wispy hair flutters in the wind in a rugged way.
The smirk returns. “Come on, Mark, I’m waiting.”
Her annoyance resurfaces. “Do you even remember my name?”
He watches the crinkle in her brow for a moment before answering. “Margo Grisby.”
“First and last. Impressive.” She crouches slightly lower. “I’m going to attack you now.�
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“That is the point, my lady. On with it.”
She charges toward him, clearing the distance between them in an instant. Ian stands completely unmoved, waiting.
Reeling her arm back for the punch, Margo recalls what Cameron said about her powerful kick and shifts her weight at the last second, lowering her fist and kicking out her leg. It’s aiming straight between Ian’s eyes, there’s no doubt about it, but just before impact, he calmly pulls his head to the side, ducking easily out of the way.
Leg flying into open air, confusion spreads across Margo face.
As her body passes him, his arm stretches in front of him effortlessly, and before Margo can even react she feels the blow from the back of his hand. Her body arcs away from him without much balance, the leg she kicked has yet to reach the ground. The forest is a blur of green as he spins her around, and then a second blow meets the back of her neck.
The dirt ground approaches; she cringes. Pain lurches at her shoulder, a wrenching pull against her arm.
“Gotcha,” he says coolly.
She doesn’t hit the ground. All she can do is breathe heavily, and stare at the soil no more than three inches from the tip of her nose. The pain in her shoulder strengthens as Ian pulls her to her feet; she staggers to a standing position. A second arm grabs her by the waist.
“Alright, agreed,” Cameron says to Ian. “She needs a bit of help. But you could have gone easier on her second try.”
Ian releases her wrist, easing her straining ligaments, and stares down at her quizzically. “She’s weaker than I imagined.”
“I can hear you, you know?” Margo glares up at him from between strands of wavy hair.
“You know what you did wrong?” he asks. “You used the same move twice. Too predictable.”
Cameron settles back in the shade, too tired to butt in, or perhaps he’s beginning to agree with the Waterperson.
“Obviously, you have more lower strength than upper,” Ian continues. “So that will work to your advantage. Most of the Queen’s Crew use their upper bodies to do all of the work, so it’ll be a surprise to see someone pull these impressive kicks on them. Now,” he loosens his shoulders up and crouches, “Try to attack again.”
Jamyria: The Entering (The Jamyria Series Book 1) Page 17