by Lindsey Duga
Freezing water slipped down my throat and into my nostrils, too, filling my lungs. It stung and burned, but it wasn’t any worse than the constricted, desperate panic that had me kicking and thrashing. My vision started to tunnel and as it did, the water around me shifted unnaturally. Like the entire river just…tilted.
Instead of sloshing left and right, splashing against the banks, or forward, speeding ahead, it went…up.
From its center, the river parted like the Red Sea. Great towers of water surged up to the sky on either side, creating walls of churning liquid against the banks, the trees and brambles and grass doused by showers and icy water.
I rolled over onto the river bed and coughed, my body surrendering the small amount of water I’d swallowed. Then I looked up.
Alder stood in the middle of the river, water stretching toward the sky, his eyes glowing bright like two wisps and his hand outstretched and trembling.
A few trout had been caught in the walls of water, and their fins flapped and splashed. The force of the river strained behind the strong blue mana barrier that flowed out of Alder’s outstretched hands.
He took careful steps toward me and then crouched down. “Brye? Can you move?”
The towers of water shuddered and Alder’s eyes flared gold again, mana pouring out of his arm to strengthen the barrier that held off tons of raging, angry, icy water.
My body felt beaten and bruised, but no bone seemed to be truly broken. Trembling, I lifted myself on my good elbow and let out a groan. My elbow still screamed in agony and my left side was in an immense amount of pain. “My side,” I rasped. I didn’t know what a broken rib felt like, but if it felt worse than this then I definitely never wanted one.
“I’ve got you.” His other hand waved through the air right over the left side of my rib cage.
His mana, silver this time, rose up from his skin and spread onto mine. Like the steam off a teacup, it whirled and teased and disappeared under my skin.
I could feel the energy—his energy—rush through me like a blood transfusion.
It chased away the pain. Curled around my bones, the places where it hurt the most, my elbow and left rib. Pressure, warm and soothing, coated my muscles and nerves, taming my pain and making it bearable.
No, not just bearable. Nonexistent.
In no time, the pain was gone, his mana disappearing like the wisps of smoke from a strong breeze.
Quickly, we climbed the river bank. The moment we were clear, Alder dropped his arm, his whole body shuddering as the river splashed down in a miniature tidal wave. It rained down on us as the trout jumped and twisted in midair, then fell back into the river and swam away.
“That was…incredible.” My heart was still racing from being overrun by giant trout, almost drowning, and then witnessing Alder move an entire river.
Alder hunched over, panting with strain as he rested his palms on his knees. “That took a lot of energy.”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “If you get into the river it’ll help restore your mana, right?”
He raised an eyebrow, his breathing slowing. “How did you know that?”
“I saw how you soaked up mana from the ground after the earth gate. That’s how it works, right? You draw mana from the ethereal plane. But you should rest for a few minutes.”
He nodded, wiping droplets from his chin with the back of his hand. “No, let’s keep going.”
The trip downstream was trout-free, while swimming with Alder was almost effortless the second time around. We swam closer together, riding with the current that he manipulated.
When we finally reached the water gate, Alder squeezed my hand, pulling me to the bank. Together, we broke the surface of the water, and I sucked in a breath to see the monster turtle a mere twenty-five yards away. Its head was lying on the smooth rock, warmed by the sun. Its eyes were closed, and I could swear I heard it snoring.
“Okay, get ready,” Alder said, pushing himself out of the river then kneeling on the shore, water dripping from his silver hair and his shirt clinging to every inch of his body.
“What are you going to do? Lure him out with pizza?” I whispered, pulling myself out of the water as well.
Alder chuckled. “He looks more like a Donatello to me.”
“Alder.”
“Brye, you have to get the key. I’ll distract him. That’s how this works.”
“I know, but…” I ran a hand through my wet hair. It tangled and snagged, and I mentally groaned knowing it would be a rat’s nest by the time it dried.
He shook his head and said simply, “You don’t get it.”
“I don’t get what?” I asked, scowling.
Yes, I had trust issues, and I had trouble being a team player. Relying on someone was difficult for me, but I knew that my hesitation for Alder to be the distraction again wasn’t just because I didn’t trust him.
I didn’t want to see him hurt.
Before I could argue any further, the turtle breathed deeply. The sound made Alder and I freeze, our gazes bouncing from the turtle back to each other.
Yep, this conversation could wait.
Alder took off across the wet boulders covered in water, algae, and slime. His strong legs jumped from rock to rock, landing smoothly on each. How he didn’t fall was beyond me. I certainly would have. He was quiet, too, his feet barely making a sound across the wet stone.
I scrambled up the bank, but not nearly as gracefully, and kept my gaze locked on the prize: a pearly pink shell fragment the size of a dinner plate nestled right next to the guardian’s leathery front toe. It was about the only one within decent reach that I could carry easily.
As I balanced on the rocks, carefully jumping from one to the next, I checked Alder’s progress. He was already nearing the turtle’s face.
I prayed that he wouldn’t have to do anything, that it would continue to sleep the day away, and I could merely tip-toe over, grab its broken piece of shell, and make like a tree and leaf.
Damnit, no one is ever around for my good ones.
Once I hit the part of the shore where the rocks flattened out, I moved faster, my sneakers slipping and sliding on the wet, slimy stones. Ducking under the lip of his shell, where a curtain of moss and vines dangled off the side, I felt something heavy hit my shoulder. My pulse jumped as I frantically tried to brush it off. The heavy thing hit the stone at my feet.
Hissing.
I shrieked, the sound echoing along the shore.
The turtle’s sapphire reptilian eye snapped open in my direction. The guardian lifted itself on its trunk-sized legs and delivered a loud roar. A Jurassic Park roar.
While the snake—an eastern black kingsnake—elongated, stretching in a way that indicated it was about to strike. A small voice in my head reminded me that this snake wasn’t poisonous. Only northern copperheads and timber rattlesnakes were the two species of snakes that were poisonous out of the twenty-three species found in the Smokies.
Still.
Poison ivy wasn’t supposed to have almost killed me, either.
The snake was already irritated after being tossed from its dry island down to a shore covered with water. It gave an angry hiss, revealing two long fangs.
Above, the guardian swiveled its soft, leathery neck toward me. The upper part of the mouth was shaped like a triangle. A snapping turtle.
And snap it did.
I fell backward, the mouth coming up short by just a few feet—thanks to a strand of vines around his neck acting like a lasso. Alder was on the other end of the vines, pulling back on the neck of the guardian with all his strength.
“Get the shell!” he yelled.
I bolted for it, but the snake hissed angrily, its body coiling around the shell as if it knew exactly what I was after.
Cursing, I tried to lunge for it anyway, but Raysh’s
voice pierced the air. “Don’t let it touch you!”
I froze, my hand outstretched, and the snake’s unnatural green glowing eyes latched onto it. Just waiting to sink its fangs in deep.
My pulse pounded in my ears as Alder’s grunts from holding back the neck of the turtle reverberated in my muscles and nerve-endings.
Aggravated, the snapping turtle grabbed the vines in its mouth and whipped its head to the side. The momentum of the vines coming from the guardian’s great tug sent Alder flying into the lake with a large splash.
As Alder sank into its depths, the snake and the giant turtle turned their glowing eyes toward me.
“Use your mana, Briony.”
Raysh’s voice whispered in my ear, like the spirit was right beside me. Guiding me.
“Use it?” I muttered.
But I couldn’t use mana like Alder. I wasn’t a nature spirit.
Then I remembered Alder’s words.
“Some days it was hard to tell the difference between you and any other spirit.”
I raised my hand, my fingers flexing as I focused on this reservoir of mana inside me. Reaching deep into this pool of astral energy, I imagined the water from the surrounding rocks congealing, coagulating, converging into one giant wave. Blue mana trickled out of my fingertips, trembling and shaking. Weak, but there. I fed it more strength, pouring as much mana as I could from my reservoir into a river of my own making.
The blue energy pulled millions of droplets off the rocks, floating them in midair, and when I felt I had enough power behind it, I flicked my wrist forward.
And splashed the spirit guardian right in the face.
Oops. I had been aiming for the snake—the creature that hated water.
The water spirit didn’t even blink, but luckily the movement did surprise the snake enough to uncoil itself from the shell and dart into the shadows of the guardian’s underbelly.
I dove for the shell fragment, scooped it up, and raced back toward the lake.
The guardian roared again and jerked its neck forward. Icy cold air blew at my back like the arctic wind. Its mouth was right behind me. Mere seconds from closing in.
At the same moment, the water receded from the shore, like an ocean tide pulling in. It built and built, rearing back into a gigantic wave that rose high above the turtle.
Within the wave was Alder. He reached his hand out to me, his fingertips emerging from the stirring curtain of blue mana and restrained water. Without a second thought, I launched myself into the wave, diving off the rocky shore just as I would off a block at the rec center pool. My streamlined arms pierced through the wave’s wall and Alder’s hand wrapped around my middle, pulling me tight against him.
In one fluid movement, Alder let go of the mana and the force of the displaced water shot us away from the shore, into the center of the lake, buffeting our bodies against the strong magical currents.
We had to get to the mouth of a river. Still being within the water gate was too dangerous. The guardian could come after us and chomp us up for a midafternoon snack. But Alder had used up almost everything he had with that wave. I could feel it from his touch and the mana mixing with mine.
I still had some, though.
But was I strong enough to get us to a river?
I had to try. I tightened my grip on the shell fragment and on Alder’s waist as he had mine. Once again summoning the reservoir of mana inside, and pushing it down around my legs, I gave one powerful kick.
We shot through the water like a missile straight into the closest river mouth. I’d forgotten how powerful the current had been and, too late, I worried we’d hit rocks and rapids.
Just as I was trying to figure out how to slow down and get safely to the river bank, three dark shapes darted around us.
Chapter Seventeen
The shadows within the water spun around us like sleek eels, and I worried, for a brief moment, if they actually were eels. If they were electric, I shuddered to think what would happen if they shocked me. Judging from the effect of the poison ivy, a spirit eel’s mystical energy could stop my heart in one second flat.
Still holding onto Alder, I tried twisting around in the water, feet first, thrusting my other hand out holding the shell to stop our wild momentum. But then a furry body shoved my wrist.
Jerking my head to the side, I caught a glimpse of a small brown fluffy face with black eyes and algae whiskers.
An…otter?
Another one pushed against Alder’s side, guiding us into the mouth of the river. As the current slowed around us, I realized that the otters were doing that, too.
They were helping us.
In calmer waters, I kicked up and gasped as oxygen filled my burning lungs. Thankfully, we had traveled far enough downstream to safely get to shore. I focused on guiding Alder’s limp body back up the bank, ignoring the playful otters that jumped and moved about, pulling on Alder’s shirt and nudging my legs, as we crawled up the bank. I knew they were speaking, but I couldn’t understand their tittering. It was too fast and too jumbled to decipher anything.
Especially when all I wanted to do was lay my head on my arms and sleep for two years.
Carefully placing the shell on the grass within reach, I maneuvered Alder onto his back, keeping his calves in the river, and watched as blue mana from the river seeped into his skin.
I dipped my toe in and the mana brushed against me, but as I suspected, the energy didn’t merge with mine as it did him. If I wanted more mana, and I was pretty sure I did if it would allow me to help open these gates, I would have to get it directly from Alder.
Which would be difficult considering he seemed to cut it off from me each time he touched me. I hadn’t felt his skin or the senses of the Smokies inside me unless he allowed me to. It was…frustrating.
“Turtle and pebbles, play, play,” an otter squeaked hopping over my legs. So their tittering had been English after all, and not their own little otter language. They had to be more than just sprites then. It was then I noticed its fur and whiskers were covered in algae and its tail was a cattail, as in the water plant.
The other two otters joined in, singing and squeaking in jumbles that hardly made any sense.
“River bank, river bank, wet.”
“Wet, wet, wet.”
“Minnows and pebbles. Minnows.”
“Run and jump. Sun and dragonflies.”
“Human, human, human,” another sang, rubbing his algae whiskers up and down my arm.
“New, new, lord, new,” the third one trilled.
It took me a moment to put their meaning together. “Human” and “new.”
“New human?” I asked the river spirits. “Is there an old one?”
Could that be…Mom?
I tried to grab one, but it danced out of my reach, and they all squeaked louder, excited, thinking it was a game.
Next to me, Alder groaned. Blinking in the bright sunlight, he blew out a long breath. He touched my wrist and wrapped his fingers around it, but to my disappointment, no mana absorbed into my skin.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
The otters continued to squeak and giggle and throw around nonsense words.
“Quiet,” Alder growled hoarsely.
Immediately, the otters stopped their prancing and playing, obeying him.
I flicked his arm. “They saved our asses. Be nice.”
At that, an otter rubbed his whiskers against Alder’s hand, and he petted its head.
The otter purred like a kitten. “Tikki good, Tikki good.”
Alder chuckled weakly as he sat up. “Yes, Tikki, you did good. Tavi! Rikki! Leave Briony alone,” Alder snapped.
The otter that had curled on my lap, digging his paws into my wet shirt, and the other one who had been chewing on the end of my hair, both leaped up and jumped
back into the river, their brother quickly following.
For a moment, I sat there, stunned. “Rikki, Tikki, Tavi?”
Alder leaned his head back on the bank and pursed his lips, his cheeks flushing.
“I know that book… Did we read that as kids? Did you name them after it?”
He nodded sheepishly. “It fit.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “That’s amazing.”
His brow furrowed in an almost pained expression, and I thought of when he’d told me how much he missed me, and how every day with me had been an adventure. My throat tightened. He named them from a book we’d read. From a book I was sure we probably loved.
He rubbed his temple and sighed. “I haven’t been this dehydrated in a while. And dizzy.”
I brushed a blade of grass from the bank off his damp cheek. “Kinda sounds like you’re drunk.”
Alder raised an eyebrow. “Drunk?”
“It’s a human thing, c’mon.” I gripped his hand and pulled him up just as Raysh bounded into view.
“I see you retrieved the water key.”
Flashbacks of the ordeal came back to me in flickering images, and I realized how much I’d needed the two of them. Alder’s mana had once again proved to be incredibly useful, and Raysh had instructed me to use my own, opening myself up to a new power I’d never had before.
I picked the shell up and ran my hand across the sleek, pearly surface. “Thanks for your help back there—both of you, I guess.” I tried to keep my tone genuinely grateful, but there was a strong part of me that wished I’d been fast enough and graceful enough to get the shell on my own. Then I stood and turned to Alder.
“Can you get us back to the physical world? We’ve got a gate to open.”
…
Alder’s wind tunnel dropped us next to the lake that he’d led me to after he pulled me out of the ethereal world. I recognized it immediately, with the trees and the mountains in the distance. Gorgeous and real—not made of astral energy or spirits. Magical in itself. Sights like this were the reason the ethereal world existed in the first place.
There are places in the world that are special.