Nothing to fret about? There were no oars, and that crack… Celeste stared at the rock anchor on the boat floor. A gash marred the wood plank bottom. Water slowly bubbled in. The boat would surely fill with water soon.
Jordan!
She stared at the sea where waves washed the spot he’d disappeared into away. He needed her.
A gray bird swooped toward them in the blue sky. With a flap of its wings, the unusual raven landed on the edge of the small boat.
“Jump into the water.” Carmen’s voice rang in Celeste’s head.
Hudson stepped toward her, rocking the boat.
She stared at the dark sea as the waves slapped against the edge of the boat. The words Jordan had spoken to her on the shore replayed in her mind. “You have nothing to fear in water. Not now. Not ever again. The water is yours to feel, to know, to become a part of.” Jordan had said to trust him. That the water could no longer hurt her, and Jordan needed her.
Just as she needed him.
Hudson’s hands flailed and grabbed for the top of her head.
“Jump now!” Carmen ordered.
I will trust Jordan. Celeste ducked out of Hudson’s reach, rocking the boat, and tipped herself over the edge.
Oh! What was she doing? She could not swim!
Pinpricks that verged on pain pushed against her skin. She flailed her hands and kicked her feet, but her dress filled with seawater. With each stroke she made, the water pulled her down. The water swallowed her whole, like a snake eating a rat.
She opened her eyes, and the water burned. Everything blurred. Water bobbed and swirled, and the edge of the boat slid farther and farther away from her as she sank. She pushed with her arms to no avail and slipped farther down. The water’s edge glowed above her. She refused to close her eyes. She needed to find Jordan. Her ears clogged, muffling all sound. She thrashed. The tightness in her chest increased as she held her breath.
Jordan.
Jordan. She called out with her mind. She blinked and strained her eyes. Murky streaks of light pierced the water in sword-like blades.
Little bubbles danced along her clothing and skin and floated toward the surface. Why couldn’t she be like them?
Panic seized her lungs, and she gasped. Water slid down her throat. She would die here in this water as she always feared she would. As she had already done once. She would not die here again. Jordan’s words fluttered again in her mind. “You have an affinity with water…” Then water save me.
Carmen’s voice echoed in the sea. “Say Vand undtagen mig, aloud.”
But if she spoke, she would drown.
“Do it, or you surely will.”
She closed her eyes. “V-Vand-”—water rushed into her mouth and filled her nose—“udtagen mig.” The sound was strained in the water’s weight.
The sea around her warmed and pushed against her. Slipping under her bottom like arms, pressure thrust her up. Her face broke the surface, and the cool air burned her cheeks.
She coughed, sputtering, then gasped, pulling air to her lungs. The water held her in a cushion of pulsing current so that her head bobbed along the small waves.
The gray raven cawed, and the sound of rushing water came from behind her. Fanning her hands, she turned about. A large whitecap raced toward her.
Jordan emerged from the crest. His eyes were no longer the blue of the calm and tranquil sea. They flashed a deep green, and he opened his mouth. A loud hiss with billowing smoke hurled from his nostrils.
His skin had changed to an iridescent blue, and the scales about his elbows glowed like shimmering gold.
A shrill cry and another billow of blue-green smoke surged from his mouth. The wave he rode swept her forward, pushing the current that held her toward the shore.
Jordan plunged at the boat, landing on the bow. The gray bird tossed into the air and flapped its wings, gliding above the wave that swept Celeste toward the shoreline of the Isle.
Jordan would be fine, but two was better than one. She wanted to help him. The water listened to him, and it listened to her words, or Carmen’s. She focused on the boat. “Put the boat on the shore.” She swapped her concentration from the boat to the gentle slope of pebbled shore. Move to the shore. Please.
Nothing happened. Her heart lodged in her throat.
Carmen’s voice rushed through her mind again. “In Nordic. Stil båden på bredden.”
Celeste swallowed the lump beating in her throat. “Stil båden på bredden,” she croaked out.
The water about her glowed, and she twisted backward. In a torrent of pinpricks, her skin burned, and she shrieked.
A streak of gold glowed in the water and circled from the wave that carried her to the boat in which Hudson and Jordan struggled.
The water swelled and glittered, and the boat rushed toward her.