Falling Skyward

Chapter Nineteen: Uncontrollable Currents

Lana felt a rough, searing pain burn up her arms, sharpened by the intense cold of the water. Water filled her mouth, pounded her eyes and brain. Feet flipping, contorting her back, she felt icy fire sting the back of her head. Rolling and tumbling, she tried to brace herself, tried to stop, but air and dirt and rocks and screams were ripped from her. Then, the pain crashed into her ribs, rising in her lungs and along her throat.

She was no longer moving, her chest trapped against strips of metal and the unforgiving water. She was being crushed, the water trying to squeeze her body and bones through the thin gaps in the metal. Lana clawed at the grating, trying to force herself toward air, but she didn't know which direction to climb. The white bubbles frothing around her started to turn muddy and dim, her vision darkening. Her body was convulsing, aching for oxygen.

Then, she felt a tug on the waist of her pants. Something was grabbing her, pulling her down. Lana tried kicking, but her legs were pinned against the grate. She was spun around. Then suddenly, unknown hands at her ribs, her head broke the water. Coughing, she gulped air, her lungs quivering and sputtering. Her ribs throbbed with the intense pressure around them, at the arm squeezing her waist like a vice. But the air in her lungs soothed her aching chest.

"Swim against the current," Taren yelled, clinging to the rough tunnel walls with one arm while he clutched Lana in the other. Lana began stroking, fighting against the current. Gradually, they made their way upstream, nearing the mouth of the tunnel where the river flowed beneath the palace wall.

Near the opening, the tunnel widened enough to create a shallow shore. After dragging themselves onto the ground, Taren and Lana collapsed. Lana lay curled on Taren's outstretched arm, her body heaving as it tried to rid itself of the water clogging her throat and eyes and stomach and ears. Taren's chest rose and fell rapidly as he sprawled on his back, trying to make more room for air to enter his lungs.

Lana fought to breathe, afraid she might choke on the water she was now vomiting. She felt Taren's reassuring hand rest on her back, helping her calm down and slow her breaths until her body was still.

"Next time," Taren said with a groan, "I'll go first. Sound good?"

Lana gave a feeble smile. "Sounds good."

They stayed that way, neither daring to move. Lana shivered, grateful to have Taren's warm skin under her and his palm at her back. She focused on his heat, willing it to spread through her, revitalizing her blood. Lana's breath slowed, then stilled.

*****

She was looking at a cave, much like the one she was in now, but the walls were rougher, carved by millions of rivulets of water, not by hand. The stone glistened and almost crackled with moisture; she could hear it dripping even over the horrendous howl of the water outside. Her arm stung, already discoloring with little veins of purple and green.

"Ouch," she pouted. "That hurt."

"Oh, well then, do you need me to kiss it better for you?" Wren asked with a wink.

"You wish," Lark huffed.

"I thought you said you wanted to learn how to fight. You can't expect to do that without a little toughening up first."

She scowled. "I'm tougher than you any day of the week." Jumping to her feet, she charged, her stick sword aimed at Wren's head. As she pulled her elbows back to swing, Wren used his stick to tangle her feet, sending her sprawling to the ground. Her head hit against the cave wall with a sickening crack, and she went still.

"Lark?" Wren said, his voice high, cracking. "Are you okay?" He dropped to his knees, crawling across the dark, muddy ground. As he crouched next to her still body, a knee shot out, hitting him in the chest. He rolled over, gasping for breath.

"Teaches you to try to make a fool out of me," she said, smearing a lump of clay in his face.

"Hey," he laughed, grabbing a clump of mud and wiping it into her hair. Her black eyes squinted, and next thing he knew, she was on top of him, grinding his face into the mud. He laughed, throwing his head back. The two grappled in the mud until Wren finally managed to wrestle his way on top of Lark, pinning her body beneath his and holding her hands above her head.

"That's not fair," she yelled, squirming under his grip. "You're bigger than me."

"And that," Wren said, "is your first lesson. Combat could care less whether things are fair or not. You're either quicker, more resourceful, luckier, stronger, or dead. Don't go hand to hand with someone who has an obvious advantage over you. Try to keep things on your terms. Try to maximize your strengths by acting fast and staying out of reach." Lark stopped squirming and glowered.

"You just love lording this teaching thing over me, don't you? You love thinking you're better than me."

"No, I don't," Wren said matter-of-factly. Then, the left side of his mouth curved up mischievously. "I don't have to think I'm better than you. I already know it."

Instead of getting angrier as he anticipated, Lark became calm, subdued.

"I know I haven't been exactly fair to you," she said, her voice crestfallen. "You have been good to help me, to teach me to fight, to be there when I need you. I don't think there is a way I could ever repay you." She glanced up meaningfully, looking fervently in his eyes.

"Well, there's one way I can think of," Wren said, his sideways smile growing. Excitement and nervousness exuded from every muscle. He bent down, bringing his head and lips near hers.

When Lark could feel his soft breath on her cheek, she brought her head up rapidly and hard, knocking him back. Then she bucked both her legs, toppling him onto the cave floor.

"Play to my strengths," she said, gloating over Wren as blood streamed from his nose. "Got it. And here's a lesson for you: don't underestimate me."