Page 56 of In Darkness Forged

Tal moved slowly towards shore, weary beyond belief in body and spirit. He should be happy that he no longer had to protect anyone, but he was not.

Then his head finally broke the surface, and he heard the sound of choking.

There… In the shallow water near the shore, a bundle of sopping wet fabric lay half in, half out of the water.

Tal had never swum so fast. He reached the shallows, then ran, tripped, and landed in knee-deep waters, grasping Aislin’s shoulders before she could collapse back into the lake.

She screamed and tried to fight his hold, but he did not let go.

“Aislin, it’s all right. You are safe.”

She turned to stare at him, body trembling with cold and probably with shock. “You… alive…” Her body spasmed and began to spew up lake water.

How had she survived? Barely able to swim, weighed down by her clothing, alone in the dark…

Tal snatched her out of the water, lifted her, and carried her to shore, arms shaking with more than the cold. Suddenly he was staggeringly angry, though he couldn’t have said with whom.

“Why?” he demanded hoarsely, clenching her more tightly with every word. “Why did you come here? Why must you continue on this quest that will mean your death no matter how hard I try to keep you alive? Why are you so unendingly stubborn when even a child can see that what you seek is impossible?” His anger burned so fiercely that his voice fled, and he could only end in a whisper. “And why… why did you findme?”

Aislin stared back at him, eyes wide and stark, her skin marked by bruises that could have come from anywhere. She was too fragile for this land—too breakable to last for long.

But in his mind’s eye, he saw again the moment when she flung the render’s head in his face. When she attacked the witch’s pet with nothing but fury and a hatchet.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her eyes closed, her lips quivered, and tears leaked out to join the lake water still dripping from her hair. “I don’t know how else to be. I’m just…”

Tal’s knees suddenly folded. They’d escaped—perhaps not unscathed, but whole—and his limbs began to shake as the urgency of their flight and his fear of failure drained away, leaving exhaustion behind. For the next few moments, he could do nothing but shut his eyes and hold Aislin tightly to his chest. He would not lose her again.

“Talyn?” Her voice sounded lost. Confused.

“I couldn’t find you.” The words burst out without thought. “After the battle with the truld. I searched, and you were gone.” And he’d been terrified, but he couldn’t let her know. Hadn’t even acknowledged it himself until that very moment. “I did not think you would survive the fall, and even if you did, you would be broken and alone in the dark.”

As cold as he was, the trembling hand that rested on his face seemed to burn his skin. “I’m all right. We both survived.”

And they would not have done so without her. If Tal had come alone, he would still be bound and helpless in that nightmare cavern, waiting for the witch to drain his magic once again.

The truth should fill him with relief. She was not useless, this human, and her stubbornness had served her better than any magic could have done.

So why did he feel so confused instead?

He released her suddenly, setting her on the ground and rising to his feet. They would need a fire—some way to warm up and dry their clothes. But there was nothing in a cave that would burn.. except the roots.

They were close to the surface here, and he could see numerous places where tree roots had grown thick and deep in search of the lake’s water.

But the hatchet had been in Aislin’s hand when they jumped. It would be lost forever to the water…

“Here.” A very wet hatchet appeared directly under his nose.

Again, he’d underestimated her. She’d somehow had the presence of mind to stow her weapon back in her belt after they hit the water.

Tal climbed as high as he could and attacked the roots with every bit of the nameless frustration coursing through his veins. The ropy strands were tough and green, but not tough enough, and he soon had a pile that he moved to an open place near the shore of the lake.

Aislin, meanwhile, had taken his pack and laid out the sodden contents where the sun trickling through from above could reach them. Then she found her own patch of light, turned her face to the sun, and closed her eyes.

Tal tried not to look at her as he stacked the roots for a fire. He was still struggling with a tangled coil of feelings he could not quite name, but that confusion warred with the impulse to keep her close so she could never be hurt or lost again.

His magic was returning in a trickle—far too slowly—but hopefully enough for this. Setting a hand atop the pile of fuel, he reached for that shallow pool of his magic, gathered a shimmering thread of power, and forced it into the gnarled, stringy fibers. The roots were wet, and as his magic flooded them, they began to steam hotter and hotter. His magic protested, but he refused to let go, clawing for the last drops until, at last, the pile burst into flame. And none too soon—he was drained again, but at least they would not freeze.

At least he had not failed in this as well.

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