Obsidian and Stars (Ivory and Bone #2)(45)

Swim, I tell myself. Swim to his side and pull him out before he drowns. But as I stretch out an arm, pushing through the long fronds of sea grass that grow up from the bottom, threatening to wrap around him like the limbs of some mysterious Spirit that lives in the lake, the water clouds with silt and debris that filters down from the surface—bits of rock and pebbles knocked free by our bodies as we fell.

I kick hard toward the place I just saw him—through the dark smear that has gobbled up the light—and one of my searching hands finds something soft, warm, and alive. My fingers trace over his face. I kick once more and I am beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him up.

We break the surface, pushing into the cold bright air. I tread water. My eyes search the bank. I spot Seeri near the base of the cliff, hurrying down to help.

I swim as hard as I can, but I’m not Pek. Carrying extra weight slows me down. By the time I reach the shallow water at the edge of the rocky shore, Seeri is wading in. She grabs Kol by the collar and pulls him away from me. Morsk appears behind her, and before I can tell him I am fine—before I can tell him to attend to Kol—he scoops me up into his arms and carries me onto the bank.

“I’m fine,” I say, but even as I say it, I hear the croak in my own voice. I hear the rattle of cold in my own breath.

“You need to get into the sun,” he says, carrying me to a spot where a wide circle of light falls on a patch of grass beyond the rocks.

I get to my feet, icy water dripping down from my hair, running down my chest beneath my tunic. My feet are unsteady, cold water swishing inside my boots, and I sit down on the trunk of a fallen tree and pull off one boot and then the other, shaking out the water while scanning the bank for Kol and Seeri.

I find them close to the water’s edge, as if she didn’t dare move Kol far. Tugging my wet boots back onto my feet, I hurry to them. I reach Kol just as he sits up and gags, lake water pouring out of his mouth.

I drop down beside him. I want to wrap him in my arms, but before I can reach for him, he pulls away. He stretches out onto his side and his eyes flutter shut. I’m not sure he even knows that I’m here. A low moan rattles from his throat.

“Kol?” I say, pushing back the wet hair that covers his eyes, and I notice the heat in his cheek.

I need to get Kol into the sun. This is what I’m thinking as I turn to look back to the clearing where Morsk carried me. I need to get Kol warm.

Leaning forward, bringing my face against his, I let my lips press against his forehead. His fever fills them with heat. His eyes flutter open, and he says my name.

“Mya.”

“You need to stay still now. You’re sick.”

Kol’s lips twist into a lopsided smile. “I know.”

Morsk comes up behind us and scoops Kol up to carry him to the sun. “You both need to try to get warm,” he says. “I’m going to go search for an easier route up the cliff.”

Seeri follows us to the patch of sun. She looks after Morsk as I kneel down beside Kol.

“I’ll go help him,” she says, “though I’ll keep my distance. I still don’t trust him, but you deserve some privacy.”

When she walks away, I can’t help but wonder if she thinks I need to say good-bye to Kol. Does she think he is dying? He can’t be. He’s sick with an infection, but he can’t be dying.

He can’t be.

“Kol?” I whisper. He turns his face toward my voice, and for a moment I’m hopeful he will open his eyes, but they stay closed.

Hope. I feel it draining from me like mead from a cracked cup.

I find myself whispering a prayer to the Divine, which is not something I have a habit of doing. I pray only when I’m desperate, when I know I need her the most, and I know that in a way, that is worse than never praying at all. It shows I believe, but not enough to do anything about it. I know the Divine can help me, but I also know I can do most things myself. I don’t know. I suppose I don’t want to admit when I need help.

But right now, I admit it. Right now, I need the help of the Divine and anyone else who will give it. “Help me help Kol,” I whisper. “Help me get him to the top of this cliff and out of danger.”

“Was that a prayer? A prayer for me?” It’s Kol. He stirs and opens his eyes.

“It might have been,” I say. “I’m just happy you’re well enough to hear me.”

“I once prayed for help when I was being chased by a saber-tooth. The Divine sent me you.”

His voice is so weak, I lean over him to hear. His face is so close. His eyes cut into me, opening a place I’ve been trying to hold shut.

“I’m hardly the answer to a prayer,” I say.

He coughs, turns to spit out another mouthful of the lake, and then pulls in a long, deep breath. As he lets it out—part breath, part groan—he curls onto his side and his eyes fall shut again.

I slide my fingers across his forehead. Though his hair lies damp and cold against his face, his skin still burns.

I look up to see Morsk and Seeri hurrying toward us. “We found a route that looks a little easier,” Seeri says. Without speaking a word, Morsk scoops Kol from the ground and drapes him across his shoulders, not unlike the way Pek carried the dog. Kol groans, but that’s all. He must be out. If he were conscious, he would object to being carried, especially by Morsk.