Page 10 of The Goblin and The Dancer
Even if she had, he doubted anything would stop her from rescuing Paul.
He watched in horror as she too leaped into the river. Even in that dreadful moment, he couldn’t help thinking that she looked just as graceful jumping from a bridge as she did leaping across a stage.
Fueled by desperation, Grik plunged through the water towards her. He didn’t have the breath to shout her name, but he said it over and over again inside of himself, with every kick and stroke.Rosanna! Rosanna! Rosanna!
He swam towards her with a colossal effort, and he caught at her as she went shooting by.
It was the first time he had ever held her—in his wildest dreams he had hardly ever dared imagine such a thing—but he was too distraught to enjoy it.
And any joy he might have felt was thoroughly squelched when Rosanna shouted, “Paul! We have to find him!”
“I’ll get him! You hold on to the bank and wait!” It was the closest thing to an order he had ever given, and he was in no mood to argue.
They began to swim frantically through the current and made swift progress when working together. As a dancer, Rosanna was strong, and between the two of them they fought their way through the rapids, clutching the cushion between them.
He helped Rosanna to the bank and waited until she had a good hold on a protruding tree root before he let her go and turned back towards the rapids and dove, forcing himself downwards into the dark and opening his eyes to peer through the churn.
He had never been so grateful for that hated scarlet coat. He spotted the vague blur of crimson and struck out towards it. Grik was small, it was true, but he was strong—far stronger than elves.
Paul was thrashing about on the river bottom, kicking up dark clouds of silt. Grik swam closer and realized that Paul’s left leg was caught in weeds.
Grik paddled frantically nearer and used his exceptionally sharp teeth to chomp down on the vine as hard as he could. Water began to rush into his lungs and his vision darkened, but he felt the vine give way.
The panicked Paul kicked him in the shoulder with a force that sent pain thundering through Grik’s body. Even though he was free, Paul did not head towards the surface but merely spun feebly about, as if confused.
Can’t he do anything?Grik thought, and then he remembered Paul’s wounded leg again and swam limply forward to seize the elf by the collar. With a colossal effort, he kicked for the surface.
As he choked on the rapids that lapped hungrily at his shoulders, Grik struggled to retain his grip on Paul. He heard Rosanna calling his name, and the sound of her voice seemed to send fresh strength through him.
He looked up and saw that Rosanna was a few feet away, clinging to the bit of root with one hand and the coach cushion with the other.
“Here!” Rosanna called. “Come here! Grab the cushion or my leg. You can do it!”
For once in his life, Grik reminded himself of what he was without rancor or shame but with fervor and need.Remember, you’re a goblin. You’re strong enough to do this.
He kicked again with a strength he wasn’t sure he had, and he and Paul were suddenly hurtling forward, their hands outstretched to seize the cushion that Rosanna held out to them. A brief burst of triumph flashed through Grik.
But a second after Paul and Grik had seized the edge of the cushion, Rosanna lost her grip on the root.
All three of them were swept helplessly downstream, away from the safety of the bank, into the raging torrent.The world was little more than a tumble of flailing limbs, white water, and grey sky.
As he fought to keep his head above the water and his hands on Rosanna and Paul, Grik hoped desperately that someone might see them from one of the houses that were flashing by and send help. But it was too stormy, and they were moving too fast. They would look like some bit of flotsam, and no one would pay any attention to them at all.
Rosanna suddenly screamed and pointed, and Grik craned his head around to look.
A dark maw rose before them. It was a storm drain—the great drain that the Mont-Marsan rushed into to provide water to the cisterns of the city and to purge the sewers. They were being pulled straight into it.
A collective panic ran through them all. They began to fight desperately for the bank in one concentrated effort to save themselves. But the cold was beginning to deaden their limbs and slow their hearts, and the rapids were stronger than ever at this bend in the river.
The maw loomed closer, blocking out the grey pallor of the squall-filled sky and plunging them into darkness.
Rosanna screamed again, and the sound spiraled and echoed through the chamber, swallowed up by the stone and iron and never reaching the outside world.
They were swept into the storm drain and into the very underbelly of the city.
Chapter Four
Grik opened his mouth to shout but only got a mouthful of sludge that choked him into silence. But it did not silence the pounding of his terrified heart.
