Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Is it possible that something has happened to Ranan?
I glance up at the hole in the ceiling of the cave, but it’s far too high up for me to climb to. The only way out of here is to go along the watery tunnel I entered from. The thought makes me shiver. I can’t swim, and this time I don’t have Ranan to guide me through. What if I get lost underwater? What if I drown?
Akara moans again, and I scrub my hands against my scalp. I can’t stand it. I have to see what’s going on. Ranan wouldn’t leave his turtle behind. I like to think he wouldn’t leave his wife behind either, not without some sort of word. Something must be wrong.
Decided, I move to the edge of the pool and stare into the blue depths. My teeth chatter with fear, imagining all the monsters that could be lurking just outside the cave entrance, waiting to gobble me up.
Don’t thrash, Ranan had told me. Only prey thrashes.
The watery tunnel itself seems to be narrow. I remember bumping along against the uneven sides of the wall as Ranan pulled me through. Perhaps instead of swimming, I can pull myself through to the other side. It’ll be just like climbing into the hay loft in a barn, I tell myself.
Except narrow and underwater and dark.
Gods.
Vor, help me, I pray silently. Help me find my husband.
I ease into the water, tucking my clothing tight around my body. After a moment’s hesitation, I emerge, grab a jeweled dagger, and then return to the water with my weapon in my belt. It takes some doing before I’m brave enough to submerge myself, and even more before I can convince myself to go underwater for longer than the span of a breath.
“Just do it,” I chant to myself. “Just go. Think about it later.”
I suck in a deep breath, hold my nose, and plunge myself underwater. I tell myself not to panic, to grab the rocky wall just as I’ve been practicing, and guide myself forward. I pull myself along in the tunnel, and when I can’t hold my breath any longer, I open my eyes. The salt water stings them, but I see a circle of light up ahead and push through, inwardly whimpering.
I come out the other side with a sobbed gasp and cough hard, water dripping down my face. It’s a weird sense of triumph to feel after swimming (pulling) myself down a short span, but I’m thrilled at my progress. I did it. I did it by myself, and I didn’t think it was possible.
I pull myself to the rocky shoreline and sit upon it, gasping and streaming water. Immediately, Akara bellows again and then the massive turtle is heading in my direction. She’s enormous, twice the size of any modest farmhouse, and for a moment I’m frozen with fear.
But she stops short of my spot on the shore and slaps her flippers in the water and bellows again.
“I see you,” I tell her. “But I don’t know what’s wrong.”
The turtle bellows again, her sharp, triangular face looming ever closer to mine. I swallow hard and then gently reach up to stroke her nose. She could snap me in half with that terrible beak of hers, but Ranan adores the turtle. He speaks to her somehow, and I wish I could. “I don’t know how to help,” I tell her, running my fingers along the ridges of her nose. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”
To my surprise, my mind floods with images of Ranan. All of them blurry and unfocused, but all of them Ranan. I jerk my hand back in surprise.
Like a puppy, Akara shoves her nose under my hand again.
Once more, a flood of mental images of Ranan pierce my thoughts.
“I’m worried about him, too,” I tell her, hesitantly stroking her nose. Is this how Ranan communicates with her? Through mental images? “But I don’t know where he is.”
Akara’s great head swivels and she tosses it, splashing me with water as she thrashes. She lets out a low bellow and then looks at me expectantly.
“You know where he is?” I guess.
The turtle bellows again, nearly shaking the rocks with the force of her response.
I get to my feet, wobbly. “Can you take me there?”
The noise she makes is affirmation, I hope. Either that or a burp. She pushes back from the shore, as if taking off already.
“Wait,” I call out, chasing after her. “Wait for me! I can’t swim like you!”
I paddle out to the turtle’s head and when she nudges me, I try to get on her sloping back. The top of her shell is flat, but the sides are mossy and slick with slime and water, and I can’t find purchase. I scramble to climb on board and manage to do so after several pathetic attempts. Akara is patient, at least. Panting, I get to my feet atop her and put my hands on my hips. “Let’s go find him, then. I’m with you.”