Warrior of the Wild(47)

Another perk to living with the boys for the last couple of weeks has been discovering the pools they use for bathing. (They’re much preferable to the stream that runs by my shelter; I’m certain it’s ice-cold runoff from the mountain.) The pools are clear with very little plant growth. One can see straight to the rock-covered bottom of each one. Most importantly, they’re safe. Nothing deadly lives in them. Each pool is too small.

I lead Iric to one of the moderately deep pools. It’ll come up to about my chest. Deep enough to swim, but shallow enough to touch.

We shed our boots and armor and then lay our axes down to the side of the pool where they can’t get wet.

I enter the pool first, the cool water sending goose bumps prickling along my arms. Soren lowers himself to the ground and sits on crossed legs. He’s not at the edge of our pool. Rather, he’s distanced himself from us by a good forty feet, between us and the foliage of the wild. He pulls out a whetstone and takes it to his ax, his back to the thick expanse of trees.

I shout, “Won’t you be more effective keeping watch if you turn around?”

He ignores me, keeping himself pointed toward Iric and me, and I wonder what exactly it is that he came here to see.

“I was right,” Iric says as he steps into the pool with me. “I’m always right. Sometimes I hate being right.”

“What are you muttering about?”

“Nothing. By the goddess, the pools are especially cold today.”

It’s a poor attempt at changing the subject, but I let it slide. It was probably only a reference to Soren’s and my “inevitable” romance. I stifle an eye roll. Iric can be so deluded at times.

“Well, what’s the first step to learning how to swim?” Iric asks.

I think for a moment. I’ve never actually taught anyone how to swim. It’s something I learned at my family’s private bathing pools.

“Place your hands on one of the sturdy rocks lining the edge of the pool.”

He listens.

“Now I want you to hold yourself flat at the top of the water on your stomach. Kick with your feet and see how you do keeping your body afloat.”

I realize too late that I didn’t think that through very well. With the first kick, Iric drenches me, sending water into my eyes and hair.

I hear a snort and turn around. Soren’s looked up from his ax, but he quickly turns his gaze back to the weapon.

I change positions, moving toward the rock Iric is gripping so I’m not in the direct line of spray.

“Okay, stop,” I say.

Iric halts. “How did I do?”

“Well, there’s significantly less water in the pool now.”

“You said to kick. I kicked.”

“You’re like a rock splashing repeatedly into the pool.”

“Well, I stayed afloat, didn’t I?”

“Except for the part where you let one of your feet touch the bottom. Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

Iric has the decency to look guilty. “My head was about to go under.”

“It’s all right if your head goes under. You can hold your breath, can’t you?”

“I can, but I don’t like to. I can barely stand it when bathing.”

“Watch,” I tell him. I perform the same move I told him to do, only I let my feet kick gently at the water, under the water, so minimal splashing results. “Like that. Gently. Your body will float. Take a big gulp of air, and let it out slowly as you kick. I want you to release your air with your head under the water and only come back up when you need another breath. Can you do that?”

Iric tries again.

If anything, there’s even more splashing. And letting his chin sink below the surface doesn’t count as breathing out underwater.

“How was that?” Iric asks.

“Keep practicing.”

As Iric continues kicking, I watch Soren out of the corner of my eye. At first, I thought he was watching me, and I thought to be self-conscious about my poor lessons. But after a while, I realize his eyes are on Iric. Watching the friend who he helped get banished to the wild. The friend who wouldn’t take him up on his own offers of swim lessons. Iric is a proud man, and Soren is a bit of a broken man. He’s here because Iric won’t let him help, and all he can do is watch from the side as I do what Soren has been wanting to do.

I wave an arm at Soren, ushering him over. He returns his ax to his back before jogging up to me. Iric takes a deep breath and dunks his chin back in the water, kicking once more. If he notices that Soren has joined us, he says nothing of it.

“What should I have him do next?” I ask.

“He needs to get over his fear of having his head submerged. Have him dunk under the water.”

Iric stops kicking and puts his feet on the bottom of the pool so he can stand. “Rasmira is teaching me. Not you.”

“He has a point, though,” I say. “You need to be comfortable with your head under the water.”

He grits his teeth. “I can do that.” He takes a breath so deep one would think it was his last and goes down. The hair at the top of his head dunks under for not even a whole second before he comes up again. He wipes the water from his face. “See. I did it.”

“Do it again. Count to five and then come up,” I say.