Call the Rain (9 page)

But Joral could not swim. Not as far as she could. Perhaps not at all.

“Your feet must be freezing,” whispered his voice at her ear. His breath tickled the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

She half-turned in the darkness. The heat from his face was so close she could almost see his lips just an inch from his. The memory of those lips pressed to hers stirred the latent fire building in her belly. She drew in a steadying breath. “The water doesn't bother me. Are you all right?”

She heard the rustle of fabric and leather as he shrugged. “If you can withstand it, I can withstand it.”

How very like a man.
She laughed lightly. “I fear the water will only grow deeper for a bit. But we are getting close to...”

The hand on her shoulder squeezed as her voice trailed off. “Closer to what?”

She struggled for the words. The language of the water was nothing like the Segra tongue, or her native one. “I am not sure exactly.”

His hand seemed to tense, and then gave her a light pat. “We shall have to continue on, then.”

When the rising water reached her thighs, the song changed. The pitch of the water voices notched higher, more energetic, more beautiful. More deadly. The echo of the chamber also changed, grew deeper and quieter. Wider. The rushing feeling of the water smoothed out as the wall to Illista's left suddenly took a sharp turn. Joral's fingers tightened on her shoulder as though attempting to steady her.

“Keep to the wall. It is still shallowest here.” Her voice echoed through the cavern and was swallowed by the far side of the water.

She rubbed her eyes as something sparkled far off in the distance like a knife shearing through the blackness.

“Is that light?” asked Joral.

The water seemed to giggle, giddy with joy at the surprise that it had promised her. She and Joral sloshed along the wall toward the light, the floor slanting upwards so that soon they were on dry ground again.

The water glowed an iridescent blue beneath the window to the sky far above them. The opening in the cave ceiling was large enough for a horse to be lowered through, and the welcome sunshine had brought life to the inky cave. Illista gasped at the fabric of flowered vines that trailed down from above.

Joral stopped her from stepping directly under the slash of light with a hand on her shoulder. “Wait.”

She turned. The light from above dropped shadows beneath his eyes and the water’s reflection cast a moving glow across his face.

“We don't know what is up there. Or who.” His eyes raked over her, lingering for half a heartbeat too long on her chest before rising back to her face, his jaw clenched. He dropped his hand to his side where it fisted into a tight ball.

Illista's sodden skirts clung to her legs, dragging the neckline of her garment downward. The Waki-sized stays beneath did little to hide, let alone support, her human-sized body, and the overdress hung precariously low across her breastbone. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed her forearms as though the chills she felt were due to the cold cave air.

She glanced up at the sunlight above her. “There is no way up anyway. The longest vines are far out of our reach.”

The ground had developed a thin layer of soil, reclaimed from the plant life of the surface. Joral kicked at it, scattering a few fallen twigs. “Everything here is too wet for a fire.”

Illista glanced at the rushing river. “The water must flow towards something. It cannot simply disappear into the earth. There must be an outlet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then we should keep walking. It must be well past midday already.”

They retreated towards the banks of the river again. Joral’s long shadows dwarfed Illista’s, but he didn’t touch her again until the light had dissolved into blackness. The weight of his hand at her shoulder was like an anchor among the chatter from the water. He kept her grounded and aware of her human body as they walked.

After countless more minutes, another needleprick of light appeared ahead of them. With an unspoken agreement, they quickened their steps until they were nearly directly below. This one was far above the center of the water. Stalactites poured from the ceiling like tears of rock that puddle into the rushing river below. More iridescent flashes swirled beneath the pool of light. Fish or eels or other creatures. One shape, as large as a man, disappeared into the shadows as quickly as it had appeared.

Illista shivered. There was no way to know what such a creature would eat in the darkness of the cave. She was grateful that she had not given into the temptation to swim. Grateful that she had not found out whether it would eat her. Grateful for Joral keeping her feet on solid ground.

“We keep going. If there are two such lights, there must be more.” His whisper tickled the hair above her ears.

For what seemed like hours, they passed a dozen or more tiny cracks in the roof above their heads, all too high or too far out of reach. Some were no more than star-like dots above them, some nearly as large as the first. Some wept flowers, some rock, some dripped water as though fed by a creek on the surface.

The tune of the water changed, too. It was subtle and Illista could not hear from a single footstep to the next that there was anything different. But every few minutes she would notice that the sound had changed, like the humming of a minstrel as he warmed up. Or the howl of the wind as a storm approached.

They rounded a corner to find the cavern burning with a fiery glow. The water rushed around the turns of the cave walls, swirling into dervishes that spun and sputtered and crashed into each other and the walls and splashed Illista and Joral's with a fine cold spray. Stalactites jutted from the ceiling and the floor, meeting in the middle like the teeth of some great beast. The red-gold lights of the setting sun poured across the water from a wide opening at the far end of the cavern.

“We found it.”

***

The mouth of the cave was low to the surface of the water. As Joral and Illista climbed around the outer edge of the cavern towards it, the setting sun outside began to fade. Within fewer minutes than he would have guessed possible, the light was all but gone and the cave drowned in shadows.

They walked as far as they could until the path in front of them narrowed and then disappeared into the water. The opening was still yards away from them across the blackness of the river.

“There is no other way out,” Illista whispered.

“Except through the water.”

His water-nymph raised one eyebrow at him. “Do you swim?”

Joral set his jaw. “Not well, no. I can paddle a little. Unless you plan to poison me first?”

Illista laughed. The unexpected sound bubbled from her with such a bright joyousness that Joral found himself laughing with her. There was only the tiniest bit of gray light now and it reflected in her eyes and off of her silvery black hair.

“I thought you were a ghost that night,” he said as their laughter quieted. “A spirit sent from the gods to rescue me from drowning in that lake.”

The last scraps of her smile fell away but she didn't drop her gaze from his. “That was the first time I had ever taken off my bloodstone. The water called me that night so loudly that I couldn't ignore it. It led me to you.”

Joral felt his chest tighten at her words. This was the first time in so long that he didn't feel so completely alone. The way she looked at him stirred things in him that he didn't realize he possessed. He had always craved acceptance. He had never realized that he also craved the company of a kindred soul.

He tore his gaze away from her glittering eyes and stared at the sliver of night sky outside. “We need to find our way back to the Segra. If my mother fails to uphold the terms of the betrothal contract, we will be at war with the Xan Segra.”

“Of course. The betrothal contract. And I must get back to my sister.” Her soft voice carried an edge that Joral didn't care to think about.

He eyed the dark water again. The ripple of a shadow flitted across the surface. “Maybe we should rest here for the night.”

She shook her head. “I don't think I can swim as a Waki. Not well enough for the both of us, anyway. If someone were to see me like this...”

Joral swallowed the bubble of fear that threatened to rise in his throat like bile. He hadn't lied. He had waded through a pond or two before, but his father's lands were known for their cold springs and icy rivers fed by the northern plains and the farther-off glaciers. And men-at-arms didn't doff their armor lightly. “Tell me what to do.”

“We should tie our clothes into a bundle and carry them. Their weight may be too much under the water.”

She bent to lift her dress over her head and he gulped again, desperate to find somewhere else to look. In the darkness he could only make out the hint of a flesh at a bare shoulder, the line of a slender thigh silhouetted against the deeper blackness of the water, the faint scents of salty sweat and sweet femininity that rose from her bare skin, so close to his own.

He jerked his tunic over his head and tied it into a pack with his breeches, leaving on only his small clothes. If the boots were submerged, they would be ruined but there was little help for it. He carefully threaded the sword into the bundle. It would be heavy but he would not leave so precious a blade to rust, forgotten, in this cave.

With a soft splash, Illista disappeared from his side leaving a cool void where she had been standing. He squinted at the surface looking for a hint of where she went. He heard her gasp of breath as she came to the surface and felt a tinge of embarrassment, standing before her nearly naked, completely at her mercy. “Are you sure this will work?”

She blew out her breath, the sound huffy. He couldn't see the features of her face at all. “I pulled you from the lake, didn't I? This time you should be able to use those big arms and legs of yours to help. The sooner we begin, the sooner I will have you back on solid ground.”

Joral took a deep breath and lowered himself into the water, wincing at the burning cold. He stretched his toes downward but found no bottom. Frigid currents rushed around him, pulling him gently but persistently towards the cave mouth. He imagined something brushed against his leg and he jerked away from the sensation.

“Take my hand.”

He grasped the handle of his sword-tied clothing bundle with one hand and carefully let go of the edge with the other. He immediately began sinking, the water sucking his shoulders and neck under the water. He kicked his feet frantically at the nothingness below him and gasped for breath as the water reached his cheeks then his mouth.

Then Illista's small hand found his flailing one and held it firmly. His head broke through the surface again and the kicking of his feet began to be effective.

“Don't fight the water so. Work with it, not against it.”

“The river is trying to kill me and you want me to help it?” He sputtered as cold water tasting of dirt and rocks and blackness threatened to choke him.

She laughed. The water seemed to laugh too. “It doesn't care for your corpse to foul its waves. Follow me.”

**
*

The currents danced along Illista's skin and caressed her limbs and back and hair as she swam. She felt so completely alive, so completely herself for the first time in forever. But it was not just the water. The solid feel of Joral's hand, gripping hers with their fingers intertwined, felt right. Complete.

He jerked and tugged her as they approached the cave mouth, but slowly, he was learning the rhythm of the water. The bobbed together, kicking in sync with each other and with the river swirling around them.

No matter what else happened in the coming days and weeks, Illista would never again give up the water. She could never deny the sheer joy of this existence. Would never resist its pull.

With pleas whispered in her heart, she asked for help from the currents. Slowly, slowly the water began to respond. A lift here, a gentle nudge there. Joral's bundle of clothing dragged downward a little less, buoyed by the water.

It was eager to please her.

Illista's head broke the surface just outside the cave and she inhaled sweet night air deep into her lungs. Joral surfaced beside her, treading water and breathing heavy but steady.

Cautiously, she reached out to the water again. With her heart again, not her mind. Loving the water. Corralling it. She concentrated on gathering it a she used to gather the ground flour for making Segra bread. She willed it to gather and lift Joral.

And it did.

“What was that?” he whispered into the darkness.

She was part of the water and it was a part of her. And she found that it obeyed her, like her limbs obeyed her. And she pushed.

She and Joral rode a gentle swell of water like a raft. It carried them, gently, effortlessly, towards the far shore. The singing of the water complained as the bottom grew shallow. It did wish to let her go.

She sent out another heart whisper, stern now. With a disappointed gurgle, they were deposited on a sandy bank, and the water retreated. Illista shivered as the night air touched her bare skin, now empty of the comforting surroundings of the water.

Only a small sliver of moon and a handful of weak stars broke the deep darkness. The rasp of Joral's breath sounded loud against the quiet of the night. “We have to make a fire.”