Page 114 of The Cradle of Ice
“I warn you before,” Daal called over. “Must not trespass.”
Graylin shifted to face him. “Daal, what exactly is down there? You’ve never told us. At least not clearly. What happened to you?”
Nyx sat straighter. Since this morning, she had struggled to get him to explain, to fully share his story. But for him, to speak it was to relive it. He turned away and searched the waters, his gaze settling on Neffa. He drew strength from her bravery, when she had risked her life to save him.
He started slowly, stutteringly. He told them of that journey half a year ago, when he came to these waters to hunt with his father, of the bloody battle with the kefta, and his hesitation that destroyed their old skiff and cast him into the sea. He shared his terror and the frantic pursuit—then being dragged into the depths, his ankle tangled in leather, of drowning in these waters.
Nyx’s eyes shone with sympathy. Plainly she had known similar terrors. “What happened then?”
“As my chest filled in those black waters, I saw a shine. Far below.”
“A silvery shine?” Nyx asked in a whisper.
He nodded and rubbed his sternum, feeling that cold heaviness of water even now. “I see it, and my body burned.” He fixed Nyx with his gaze. “Like your touch.”
“They must have inflamed your gift,” she said. “Sensed your power, shining like a beacon in that blackness.”
He shook his head. “I know not.”
“Then what happened?” Graylin urged.
Daal faced him. “They came for me.”
“Who?” Graylin pressed. “What?”
He opened his mouth to reveal the horror, but his breath was trapped in his chest. His throat closed. It took all his effort to move his suddenly heavy tongue. “I … I cannot say.”
Graylin shoved closer and took Daal’s shoulders, his strong fingers digging deep. “You must.”
He tried again, gulping to speak. He lifted a hand to his throat. He could not take in air. It was as if his body had forgotten how to breathe.
Nyx leaned forward and knocked Graylin’s arms away. “He truly can’t tell us,” she said.
“He’s just panic-stricken.”
“No! That’s not it. I think he’s been enthralled. By the Oshkapeers. They will not allow him to share what happened.” Nyx gripped Daal, careful not to touch his bare skin. “It’s all right. Stop trying to speak.”
Daal closed his eyes, letting his story roll from his tongue and be swallowed away. As he did, his throat opened. His chest found its rhythm again, though he was still left gasping.
Nyx squeezed her reassurance into him. “It’s all right. Just breathe through it.”
He did as she instructed. After a spell, his wheezing settled into normal breaths, though his heart still pounded in his ears.
Graylin motioned to Shiya and Nyx. “Can you break through that bridling that holds him silent? Free his tongue?”
“Possibly,” Shiya said. “We can try.”
“No,” Nyx warned, shielding Daal’s body with her own. “It could destroy his mind. Even kill him.”
“We don’t know that,” Graylin argued. “And hard choices must be made.”
Daal pictured their group dragging the dead men down the pier. He reached and touched Nyx’s back, laying his palm there. “All right. I try.”
She glanced back to him, her face stricken. “No, Daal. It’s not worth the risk. I … I can’t bear the weight if anything happens to you. It’s too much.”
“Then no carry it. It my choice.”
He had borne this burden for too long, until it was a stone in his chest. He wanted to let this secret go, no matter the danger.
