The forgotten stone, p.18
The Forgotten Stone, page 18
He shrugged. “I don’t make friends easily. My mother was a warrior, murdered by tribesmen. My father spoke only in heavy sarcasm and a heavy hand.”
“He beat you?” Enouim asked, concern and compassion in her voice.
“Only whenever he was at home,” Gabor answered dryly. “The sound of his boots crossing the threshold haunts me to this day. I used to beg Glintenon to strike him dead in his sleep. I imagined ways I might do it myself, but could never get up the nerve. He terrified me. He eventually drank himself into a stupor one night and never woke up. My relief the next morning cannot be overstated.”
Enouim blanched, then took a moment to absorb this. She tried to imagine the horror of ongoing, paralyzing fear like that. “And your mother?”
Gabor shook his head. “She was strong physically, but as much a prisoner mentally as the rest of us. My older brother ran away when I was seven. He was an inspiration to the rest of us. We all wished we could follow, but weren’t sure how to do it. I thought maybe my father would chase me down if I ever left. And … well, he was my father. We only get one.”
She wasn’t sure what to say, so she decided to say nothing for a spell. They rode on for a few minutes like that, lost in their own thoughts.
“I want to apologize.”
“For what?” Gabor asked.
“Well … I misjudged you. When we first met. You’re detail-oriented and a hard worker; that was obvious. But I thought you were judgmental and stiff, and I guess I forgot you have a story like everybody else.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “My sob story makes you like me more, huh?”
“I …” Enouim tried to think of something to say, but luckily Gabor broke back in.
“Forget about it. We all have a story. To be equally forthcoming, your judgmental assessment probably wasn’t far off. I didn’t like you much either. I thought you were airheaded and clueless. I was right about the clueless, but wrong about the airheaded part. The way you think is dizzying, and a lot of it seems pretty irrelevant, but you have a strong work ethic and a desire to learn. And you’re better with people than I am.”
Enouim wasn’t sure whether she felt complimented or insulted at first, but his last comment took her off guard. “Oh … um …”
“I haven’t really needed people,” he continued. “I’ve gotten by without them, anyway. But sometimes I wish I could say what’s on my mind the way you do, or see more sunshine than clouds.”
“You care a lot, I think. Maybe you just don’t know how to show it. And don’t think I haven’t noticed you doing all of Vadik’s work when he slacks off!”
Gabor laughed. “Yeah, that drives me nuts.”
Enouim smiled, and rode on feeling she’d made a new friend.
They circled the same small area for three days but had no luck finding the Nazir, and Canukke became more and more frustrated. “Are we really waiting on a bookworm to navigate us toward the most powerful weapon in the world? You said you could find it.”
“I have the best chance of finding it,” Mereámé said, “and I have clues to help me. They’re still difficult to find, and if we don’t stumble upon it just right, we could miss it from ten feet away.”
Three days turned into a week, then two. After two weeks of fair weather, finally clouds rolled in and the sky grew dark. Rain began to fall, and Mereámé clapped her hands in excitement. “Here we go! Yes! Okay, keep an eye out for inconsistent rainfall. The heavier the rain, the easier it will be.”
The rain didn’t disappoint them. It picked up quickly, and Enouim began to worry the extra bandages she’d put on her neck were going to soak through. She pulled her mantle tighter around her and shivered. They rode on, and soon a break in the trees opened up the view.
“There!” Vadik called out, pointing. “Do you see it?”
“Mark me forever, I think you’ve found it,” Baird commented, taking in the strange sight. Above the trees in one place they could see rain falling and then disappearing from view, so that it looked as though rain simply ceased to fall the rest of the way down, while on either side it continued to descend to the forest floor.
Mereámé nodded. “That’s it. We need to make our way there.”
With renewed hope they struck out for the place without rain. Dense thicket replaced the spacious trees and soon slowed their passage as they hacked through coarse underbrush. The cold and mundane work of plodding forward dampened their spirits, which had lifted for a time. Hours passed, but they took no rests.
Eventually the ground became softer and turned into a river bank, and the company came to a halt. The river pooled in the area before them, taking respite from its journey through the wood. On the other side, the bank, completely overgrown with bristles and thorns, dropped suddenly to a bubbly river where water gushed into the pool from some unseen tunnel or crevice. The river ran across the exact place through which they desired to pass, and going around would take time Oloren was not willing to waste.
“We can swim across it,” she said. “There may be some underwater channel feeding from the river upstream, and if it’s wide enough, we should take it. It will be the most direct path by miles. We should check.”
“I’ll go,” Canukke said, dismounting. “This is as protected a place as any to leave the horses and continue on foot if need be. If there is an opening here, we’ll pick them up on our way out. Based on the last rain, if Mereámé is right, we should be very close now.”
Enouim’s heart started to pound. She couldn’t swim underwater! What might be lurking underneath? What about her neck? She stroked the scar over her collarbone, thinking of her parents’ many insistences to stay away from large bodies of water. But no, she went off and got herself on a dangerous mission. And what did they do on dangerous missions? Go to cities with water for roads, and cross rivers with giant sea serpents, and then decide that wasn’t enough water for one lifetime, so they found yet another river, deep in a forest the locals warned them against entering, and their first suggestion upon setting eyes on it? Yes, let’s cross it.
Canukke took off his cloak and dove into the water.
Glintenon, that’s just fantastic, Enouim thought. Not only is it a river running against the direction we plan to go, but even the pool on this side is deep enough to dive into.
It wasn’t terribly far across. Canukke swam perhaps forty feet and examined the place that fed the river, then he ducked underwater and vanished from view. Well, if he died under there, she would not be leading the group, that’s for sure. But if she were, the first thing she would do is send them all on the longer but far more sensible land route around the river.
As it turned out, Canukke wasn’t drowned or swallowed by sea monsters. He came back up and called to them to join him, saying there was an underwater tunnel wide enough to fit through. Everyone started to dismount and prepare to cross, but Enouim sat frozen in the saddle. Her stomach turned in knots and did somersaults. Something lodged in her throat out of thin air, and she felt she couldn’t speak. She could not get into that water.
“Enouim?”
She started and glanced down at Oloren and Baird, both standing at Inferno’s head and looking up at her in concern.
“What’s wrong?” Baird asked.
“I’m not getting in there,” she managed with effort.
“It’s not that bad. You’ll only have to hold your breath for a minute.”
Enouim shook her head. “I’m not doing it. I’m not.”
Oloren walked up to the horse and gently laid her hand on Enouim’s hand, over the reins. “You can do this. I know how brave you are. The water is clearer here, and Canukke says he hasn’t even seen any little fish.”
“They were all eaten by the bigger fish!” Vadik called back from the river, laughing. Oloren shot him a glare that could kill, and he rolled his eyes.
Gabor reached Canukke and turned back to see what was going on. Kilith was only halfway and returned to the bank. He got out of the water, walked up to her, took Inferno’s bridle and lead him to the water’s edge, then looked up at her, his gaze intense. “You’re okay. Still on the horse, see? And look, Inferno doesn’t mind it. Let’s just give it a try, shall we?”
Enouim looked into his deep-green eyes and tried to soak up his confidence. She slowly swung a leg over and allowed herself to slide off the horse with Kilith guiding her descent. Her thumb tapped feverishly on her collarbone, and her breathing was ragged. All eyes were on her now, and her face flushed hot. What was happening to her? Why did no one else have this reaction?
“You can do it,” Kilith said. “It’s not going to hurt you. We’re all here. Breathe.”
“I c-c-can’t.”
“What is it?” Vadik asked, treading water halfway across.
What was it indeed. Enouim wished she knew. She must be going crazy. That didn’t help her situation though, and it didn’t slow her breathing. She took a step into the water and froze. No, no, no! She had to get out. Had to get out. This was wrong; she wasn’t safe, not safe. It was going to kill her. Pakel had known, he’d known her fear in Levav. If only he were here now. Now everyone knew, and they all thought she was crazy, but there was nothing she could do about it. She watched the water swirling around her feet. Dark it seemed, full of malicious intent and a thousand opportunities for failure. Able to suck her down, down, down until she didn’t know which way was up. Able to snuff her out.
Enouim grew dizzy, and her body felt tingly all over. Her heart lurched into her throat, and she was certain it could do little good there. The world seemed to close in on her, and her vision narrowed so that all her focus fixated on that dark, churning water plotting her demise. Yes, it was churning, wasn’t it? Rolling, churning, surging. Enouim wavered and then stumbled back, vomiting the morning’s roast rabbit onto the bank.
She was only vaguely aware of Kilith and Ruakh’s presence by her side, saying something to her. “Enouim? Listen to me. Listen to my voice. Breathe.”
Ruakh spoke this time, his voice even and soothing. “You’re safe. Breathe deep, deep breaths. Slowly. In through your nose … out through your mouth. In through your nose … out through your mouth …”
Enouim struggled to focus on his words, and took in jagged shallow breaths at his bidding. It wasn’t working, not working.
“That’s it. Slow, deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth …”
Several minutes passed this way, and slowly Enouim felt control of her body return to her. Her peripheral vision returned, and her breathing steadied. She looked up. Apparently she’d curled into a ball on the ground at some point after throwing up.
The next voice she heard was Oloren’s. “Canukke, no. She’s not coming. We’ll go around.”
An agitated response floated back across the water. Enouim couldn’t make it out.
“I said we’re going around. It’s just a few more hours. If you don’t get back here now, it will be you that is wasting time!”
Canukke, Gabor, and Vadik returned to the bank, soaking wet. No one bothered mounting again, as turning to the left to start their alternate route on land required hacking their way through unyielding brush. Enouim walked in silence, confused and ashamed. Mereámé looped her reins over her horse’s head, trusting the animal to follow Sky in front of her, and came to Enouim’s side.
“Want to talk about it?” she asked tenderly.
“I lost it.”
“That really scared you.”
“I don’t know why I reacted that way. I just couldn’t do it.”
“Well, that’s okay. Now that we know where we’re going, we’ll get there sooner or later. What’s a few hours’ difference?”
20
The sound of metal cutting at thorns and stubborn shrubs filled the silence for the next several hours. Mereámé remained by Enouim’s side, except twice to check on her horse, who was plodding faithfully after Sky. They spoke quietly to one another on occasion about this and that, and finally arrived in the place they’d seen without rain. A glade opened up before them as they cut through the brush, and Canukke called Mereámé up to the front to confer with him and Ruakh. The group fanned out to painstakingly search the area, and Enouim thought they must look like tremendous fools, stumbling about. Gabor and Baird had their arms out, afraid they would run straight into some invisible wall and look even sillier.
Kilith angled his way toward her, and Enouim racked her brain for what to say. Surely he thought her ridiculous for her antics earlier. She still wasn’t exactly sure what had come over her.
“So that was interesting,” he said..
“Sure was,” she answered flatly, feeling her defenses rising.
“Hey now. I didn’t mean any harm. Just making an observation.”
“Nobody just ‘makes an observation’ like that.”
Kilith shrugged. “Maybe not.” A pause. “It seems your relationship with water goes deeper than the surface.”
“I see what you did there,” Enouim said, evading the prompt.
Kilith rolled his eyes and gave her a pointed look.
“What?”
“You know what.”
“Okay, tell me this. How is it that before you were all about me keeping my story to myself and being dark and secretive like you, but now all of a sudden you want me to spill?”
“Dark and secretive, eh?” Kilith arched an eyebrow, humor in his eye. But he didn’t let the moment last long enough to derail the conversation. “Before, you were divulging personal history with hardly a thought. Now your life may be on the line. I was hoping our route would take us around large bodies of water, and it mostly has, but now I see that it is likely even one or two more such instances could mean the difference between your safe return to Gorgenbrild and endangering not only your life but the rest of your companions.”
“It’s not like I was shelling out information left and right. I share things with people I trust. As for the route … you’ve been trying to avoid water? For me?”
“Don’t change the subject,” Kilith answered, tone clipped.
“I don’t like water. And no, the incident with the world’s largest sea snake was not my first fear of water.” Something in Kilith’s face made her heart skip a beat. “It’s not the world’s largest sea snake? Are you kidding me?”
“A story for another time,” he said with a laugh. “Back to the water itself.”
The water itself. Was he really that intuitive or did he know something? Well, he clearly wasn’t going to own up to anything if she went fishing about what he knew. So she decided to answer honestly. She did trust him, after all. And Kilith’s relationship with her father made her feel secure. Maybe if he knew something, he’d let it slip once she told him more.
“My scars …” Enouim tapped her collarbone it, bringing his attention to the mark on her skin. For some reason the scar draping over her collarbone didn’t burn like the ones on the back of her neck, so she hadn’t put any bandages over it. “They’re from some kind of sea creature. My father told me it made me sensitive to water somehow and that it wasn’t safe. Apparently that’s where I was found as a baby —in a body of water, bleeding. That’s how my father—my adopted father, but my only father, you know—that’s how he came to have and raise me. Both my parents warned me about lakes, rivers, and the sea. They said it was a place of beautiful majesty and power, and darkness and despair. It was better to admire it from a distance than to get too close and get stung.”
“So there we have it,” Kilith said after he’d taken a moment to absorb what she’d said. “You learned your fear from your parents.”
“Well, and I was hasty once or twice with my bath and didn’t put the watertight bandage over my neck like mother told me. That taught me pretty quick! It burned.”
“You were taught it was dangerous. And here you are, not running from peril but toward it. Danger is inherent to our mission.”
“You don’t understand. It’s not just that it was dangerous. Other kinds of danger are scary, but doable. This I could not do. I physically, mentally … could not do it.”
“Enouim. You didn’t believe you could do it.”
“And what exactly would that have gotten me? I’m not an incredible swimmer. I know how to swim, but I hardly spent any time in water. My brother taught me in secret and only with bandages firmly taped down. I wasn’t even supposed to learn—it was sort of a rebellious thing. And I am particularly horrendous at holding my breath. Maybe my lungs are worse than everyone else’s.”
“It seems you’re convinced of your inability.”
“Yes, well, I’m right, so believing it is the only way to avoid drowning.”
“Maybe if you believed in yourself more, you would discover that it isn’t as true as you think.”
Enouim stopped short and turned to him, looking him in the eyes. “Believe in yourself? That’s your big secret? Just believe in yourself? If all it took was believing I could do something, I could have become the first human to fly. When I was three. Just because you believe something hard enough, doesn’t make it so. If I declared with gumption that the sky was purple, and believed it to my very core, it wouldn’t change the fact that the sky is in fact blue. Not one iota.”
“Yes, but do you believe in the mind-body connection?” Kilith responded evenly. “How was your psychological state impacting your breathing, your heart rate? Once your anxiety began to build, it played off itself. I can see it. You overanalyze everything.”
“Thanks.”
“Self-awareness is important. Lack of it can be lethal in circumstances like ours.”
Enouim lifted her chin, glaring into the trees up ahead. She knew she overanalyzed everything. It just sounded so nasty in his mouth. What must he think of her? What did it meant about her that she overanalyzed? Maybe she was stupid, or crazy, or just incredibly insecure. Ugh. Now she was overanalyzing her over-analytical nature. Fantastic.
