Page 19 of Of Blooming Embers
Before the beast could claim me as its meal, something shackled around my wrist. My eyes snapped open. Just as the monster’s tentacles were mere inches away, Gavrel jerked me out of reach and into the twirling portal.
A rush of life-giving air filled my gasping lungs as the thought of my childhood drowning invaded again.
Gavrel had saved me then, too. I was sure of it now. The memory was once obscured either by the trauma or by Melina’s ember, but the haziness had finally cleared.
A younger Gavrel swam toward me in the bubbling darkness. Then he was dragging my limp body from the pond that had tried to claim me.
The images flitted away as Gavrel’s concerned focus locked on mine. Refusing to part from him, I mimicked his grip and locked my fingers around his wrist. We plummeted among a slurry of fizzing stars as they crashed into the rotating wall of liquid.
Unceremoniously, the portal deposited us in a soggy heap atop a moss-covered slab, just big enough for our tangled bodies to lie upon.We clung to each other like sodden weeds cast out of the sea, and the portal fizzled away into the aether as if it had never existed.
Exhaustion coursed through my muscles and my mind. Gavrel gently untangled himself from me, and I forced myself to sit upright.
Coughing, I winced at the muddy liquid fleeing my lungs and splashing onto the stone. I ran the back of my hand over my mouth, nose crinkling as a pungent musk stole space in my lungs. “What am I smelling? Please tell me it isn’t me,” I groaned.
A low chuckle reverberated as Gavrel glanced at me. My eyes narrowed at him. He shrugged, picking himself up. “You get used to it after a while—the peat. So much underlying decay throughout the mire.” He scanned the area, adjusting his broadsword. “It’s barely noticeable in the city.”
I offered him a deadpan glare. “What a shame. I love the smell of rotten eggs in the afternoon.”
He shook his head, an amused expression lining his face as he grabbed my hands and helped me stand. I rose, taking care not to slip into the muddy, debris-ridden water surrounding us.
My sodden rucksack shifted awkwardly along my back, making me keenly aware of how uncomfortably wet I was. The air was muggy, sticking to my skin and leathers in a clammy embrace. How I wished I could change into dry clothing, but everything in my bag was surely drenched. “You lose your pack?”
He shrugged. “It’s no matter. It shouldn’t take long to find our way to Helos.” Reaching up, Gavrel seized two sturdy, long branches from an overhanging tree. With a swift, decisive motion, he broke them off, the sharp crack echoing like the sound of bones snapping. I shuddered, a twinge of empathy washing over me for the tree’s pain.
In every direction, slim gray trees lurched from the murky depths, their contorted appendages scraping at the overcast sky.Doombark cypresses. I believe that’s what Magister Barden called them during our lessons. Various vines and vegetation drooped from the boughs, clung to the peeling bark, or drifted solemnly along the shivering water.
“Thank you for saving me from drowning … for the second time in our lives,” I muttered.
He nodded before stepping off the stone. The water lapped at his calves as he jabbed his stick into it.
I breathed in through my mouth, trying to avoid inhaling the scent of decomposition.
Hauntingly captivating, a chorus of swamp crickets chirped as I scoured our surroundings, and despite the humidity, I shivered.
It was rumored that the Perilous Bogs had claimed many wanderers over the centuries. There were many stories of deceased mortals floating up from the depths, their physical bodies preserved, albeit bloated and waxy, by the swamp.
My shoulders tensed, lifting a little as my imagination scratched within me. Perhaps the trees were the last remnants of bog bodies that had never escaped the muck—bones twisted, stretched, and planted deep.
A fetid waft of air rustled through the branches, causing the extremities to sway; the vines dripping from them shuddered. Far in the distance, I thought a pallid hand crept out of the surface, its crooked fingers groping at the sky. I blinked several times and rubbed my eyes. When I looked again, only murky, rippling water remained.
I pushed my shoulders down and back, squeezing my hands and then shaking them out at my sides. I was exhausted, and my mind was playing tricks on me.
Gavrel’s chest rose and fell evenly as he studied the expanse. His calm composure comforted me, my mind sweeping away grisly musings. I plucked at the damp sleeves on my biceps; the snug cuffs were more and more like manacles. My brow furrowed. “What the void attacked me in the loch?”
“Something that had no business being in Midst Fall,” he grumbled, offering me the second branch and helping me step into the tepid water.
“Was it a Void creature?”
“I suspect so. Which would mean the problem we’ve been having in Surrelia is spilling into this realm.” The side of his jaw ticked angrily.
“You have thoughts on that?” I prodded.
He grunted.
“Your jaw is about to crack off. So, I think you just might have some ideas,” I snickered.
He slowly shifted his jaw from side to side before regarding me from his peripheral. “The portals between realms are weakening. I’m not sure why or whether it’s intentional. Perhaps it’s connected to the thing trapped in the amber boulder—in the palace dungeon.” His fist tightened around the walking stick. “Regardless, I mean to find answers.”
