The Raven King
Page 36
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“There you are, you urchin,” Ronan said as Chainsaw chattered nervously. “Finally.”
The girl offered Adam’s watch back to him, reluctantly. The band had acquired some toothmarks since he’d last seen it. The face of it said 6:21. It was very grubby.
“You can keep it,” Adam said, “for now.” He couldn’t really spare the watch, but she didn’t have anything, even a name.
She started to say something in the strange, complicated language that Adam knew was the old and basic language of whatever this place was – the language that young Ronan must have mistaken for Latin in his long-ago dreams – and then stopped herself. She said, instead, “Watch out.”
“For what?” Ronan asked.
Orphan Girl screamed.
The light dimmed.
Adam felt it in his chest, this plummeting energy. It was as if every artery to his heart had been scissored.
The trees howled; the ground shivered.
Adam dropped to a crouch, pressing his hands into the ground for breath, for help, for Cabeswater to give him back his heartbeat.
Orphan Girl was gone.
No, not gone. She was plummeting yards down the slanted rock face, fingers clawing for purchase, hooves scraping dully, tiny rocks tumbling down with her. She didn’t cry for help – she just tried to save herself. They watched her slide straight into that pool of clear water, and because it was so transparent, they could see how far she plummeted into it.
Without pause, Ronan leapt after her.
It was 6:21.
Ronan hit the water hard enough that he saw sparks behind his vision. The pool was as warm as blood, and the moment he thought about that heat, he realized that he remembered this pool. He had dreamt it before.
It was acid.
The heat was because it was eating him. At the end of this dream there was nothing left of him but bones, white-picked sticks in a uniform, like Noah.
Immediately Ronan threw all of his intention out towards Cabeswater.
Not acid, he thought. Make it not acid.
Still his skin warmed.
“Not acid,” he said out loud, to the pool, as his eyes stung. Liquid flowed into his mouth, sucked into his nostrils. He could feel it bubbling under his fingernails. Somewhere below him was Orphan Girl, and she’d been in the strange sea for a few seconds longer than he had. How long did he have? He couldn’t recall the dream well enough right now to know. He breathed words directly into the acid. “Make it safe.”
Cabeswater heaved around him, shuddering, shrugging, trying to grant his appeal. Now he could see Orphan Girl sinking slowly just below him. She’d covered her eyes; she didn’t know that he’d come after her. Probably didn’t expect any help. Orphan girl, orphan boy.
Ronan struggled towards her – he was an OK swimmer, but not without air, not through acid.
The liquid growled against his skin.
He snatched her oversized sweater, and her eyes opened wide and strange and startled. Her mouth formed Kerah? and then she seized his arm. For a moment they both sank, but she was not stupid, and she began to paddle with her free hand and kick off the stone walls.
It felt like they had sunk miles beneath the surface.
“Cabeswater,” Ronan said, huge bubbles escaping from his mouth. His brain was failing to problem-solve. “Cabeswater, air.”
Cabeswater would keep him safe, ordinarily. Cabeswater knew how fragile his human body was, ordinarily. But it wasn’t listening to him now, or it was, but it couldn’t do anything about it.
The pool boiled around them.
He was going to die, and all he could think was how if he did, Matthew’s life was over, too.
Suddenly, something hit his feet. Pressed against his hands. Crushed his chest. His breath – he only had time to seize the Orphan Girl before everything went black.
And then he burst out of the water, propelled from below. He was vomited up on to the rocky edge of the pool. Orphan Girl rolled from his arms. Both of them coughed up the liquid; it was pinkish from the blisters on his tongue. Leaves were plastered all over Ronan’s arms, all over the Orphan Girl’s arms. So many leaves.
Looking woozily over his shoulder, Ronan found that the entire pool was filled with vines and shrubs. Tendrils still grew slowly out of the pool. The submerged parts of the plants were already being eaten away by the acid.
This was what had saved them from drowning. They had been lifted by the branches.
Adam crouched on the other side of the pool, head dropped low like he was about to sprint or pray, his hands pressed to the rock on either side of him, knuckles white. He had placed a few small stones between his hands in a pattern that must have made sense to him. One of the still growing tendrils had tangled around his ankles and his wrists.
The proper truth struck Ronan: The plants had not saved their lives. Adam Parrish had saved their lives.
“Parrish,” Ronan said.
Adam looked up, eyes blank. He was quivering.
Orphan Girl scrambled around the pool, keeping well back from the edge, to Adam’s side. Hurriedly, she knocked the tiny stones into the pool with her finger and thumb. At once, the vines stopped growing. Adam sat back with a shiver, expression still far away and ill. His right hand twitched in a way that was not quite comfortable to look at. Orphan Girl took his left hand and kissed the palm – he merely closed his eyes – and then she turned her urgent gaze to Ronan.
She said, “Out! We need him out!”
“Out of where?” Ronan asked, picking his way around the pool to them. He looked up at the rock face, at the mountainside around him, trying to plot a path out.
“Cabeswater,” Orphan Girl said. “Something is happening. Ah!”
In between the submerged and damaged leaves in the pool, the liquid was turning black. This was a nightmare.
“Get up, Parrish,” Ronan said, gripping Adam’s arm. “We’re getting out of here.”
Adam opened his eyes; one lid was drooping. He said, “Don’t forget she’s coming with us.”
It was 6:21.
No one had been answering the Fox Way phone for ages. Blue had obediently used Gansey’s phone to call home every forty-five minutes as her mother had asked, but no one picked up. This didn’t strike her as unusual the first time; if the line was tied up with a long-distance psychic consult, outside calls rang through to voicemail. It was unusual when it kept happening, though. Blue tried again in another forty-five minutes, and then another.
The girl offered Adam’s watch back to him, reluctantly. The band had acquired some toothmarks since he’d last seen it. The face of it said 6:21. It was very grubby.
“You can keep it,” Adam said, “for now.” He couldn’t really spare the watch, but she didn’t have anything, even a name.
She started to say something in the strange, complicated language that Adam knew was the old and basic language of whatever this place was – the language that young Ronan must have mistaken for Latin in his long-ago dreams – and then stopped herself. She said, instead, “Watch out.”
“For what?” Ronan asked.
Orphan Girl screamed.
The light dimmed.
Adam felt it in his chest, this plummeting energy. It was as if every artery to his heart had been scissored.
The trees howled; the ground shivered.
Adam dropped to a crouch, pressing his hands into the ground for breath, for help, for Cabeswater to give him back his heartbeat.
Orphan Girl was gone.
No, not gone. She was plummeting yards down the slanted rock face, fingers clawing for purchase, hooves scraping dully, tiny rocks tumbling down with her. She didn’t cry for help – she just tried to save herself. They watched her slide straight into that pool of clear water, and because it was so transparent, they could see how far she plummeted into it.
Without pause, Ronan leapt after her.
It was 6:21.
Ronan hit the water hard enough that he saw sparks behind his vision. The pool was as warm as blood, and the moment he thought about that heat, he realized that he remembered this pool. He had dreamt it before.
It was acid.
The heat was because it was eating him. At the end of this dream there was nothing left of him but bones, white-picked sticks in a uniform, like Noah.
Immediately Ronan threw all of his intention out towards Cabeswater.
Not acid, he thought. Make it not acid.
Still his skin warmed.
“Not acid,” he said out loud, to the pool, as his eyes stung. Liquid flowed into his mouth, sucked into his nostrils. He could feel it bubbling under his fingernails. Somewhere below him was Orphan Girl, and she’d been in the strange sea for a few seconds longer than he had. How long did he have? He couldn’t recall the dream well enough right now to know. He breathed words directly into the acid. “Make it safe.”
Cabeswater heaved around him, shuddering, shrugging, trying to grant his appeal. Now he could see Orphan Girl sinking slowly just below him. She’d covered her eyes; she didn’t know that he’d come after her. Probably didn’t expect any help. Orphan girl, orphan boy.
Ronan struggled towards her – he was an OK swimmer, but not without air, not through acid.
The liquid growled against his skin.
He snatched her oversized sweater, and her eyes opened wide and strange and startled. Her mouth formed Kerah? and then she seized his arm. For a moment they both sank, but she was not stupid, and she began to paddle with her free hand and kick off the stone walls.
It felt like they had sunk miles beneath the surface.
“Cabeswater,” Ronan said, huge bubbles escaping from his mouth. His brain was failing to problem-solve. “Cabeswater, air.”
Cabeswater would keep him safe, ordinarily. Cabeswater knew how fragile his human body was, ordinarily. But it wasn’t listening to him now, or it was, but it couldn’t do anything about it.
The pool boiled around them.
He was going to die, and all he could think was how if he did, Matthew’s life was over, too.
Suddenly, something hit his feet. Pressed against his hands. Crushed his chest. His breath – he only had time to seize the Orphan Girl before everything went black.
And then he burst out of the water, propelled from below. He was vomited up on to the rocky edge of the pool. Orphan Girl rolled from his arms. Both of them coughed up the liquid; it was pinkish from the blisters on his tongue. Leaves were plastered all over Ronan’s arms, all over the Orphan Girl’s arms. So many leaves.
Looking woozily over his shoulder, Ronan found that the entire pool was filled with vines and shrubs. Tendrils still grew slowly out of the pool. The submerged parts of the plants were already being eaten away by the acid.
This was what had saved them from drowning. They had been lifted by the branches.
Adam crouched on the other side of the pool, head dropped low like he was about to sprint or pray, his hands pressed to the rock on either side of him, knuckles white. He had placed a few small stones between his hands in a pattern that must have made sense to him. One of the still growing tendrils had tangled around his ankles and his wrists.
The proper truth struck Ronan: The plants had not saved their lives. Adam Parrish had saved their lives.
“Parrish,” Ronan said.
Adam looked up, eyes blank. He was quivering.
Orphan Girl scrambled around the pool, keeping well back from the edge, to Adam’s side. Hurriedly, she knocked the tiny stones into the pool with her finger and thumb. At once, the vines stopped growing. Adam sat back with a shiver, expression still far away and ill. His right hand twitched in a way that was not quite comfortable to look at. Orphan Girl took his left hand and kissed the palm – he merely closed his eyes – and then she turned her urgent gaze to Ronan.
She said, “Out! We need him out!”
“Out of where?” Ronan asked, picking his way around the pool to them. He looked up at the rock face, at the mountainside around him, trying to plot a path out.
“Cabeswater,” Orphan Girl said. “Something is happening. Ah!”
In between the submerged and damaged leaves in the pool, the liquid was turning black. This was a nightmare.
“Get up, Parrish,” Ronan said, gripping Adam’s arm. “We’re getting out of here.”
Adam opened his eyes; one lid was drooping. He said, “Don’t forget she’s coming with us.”
It was 6:21.
No one had been answering the Fox Way phone for ages. Blue had obediently used Gansey’s phone to call home every forty-five minutes as her mother had asked, but no one picked up. This didn’t strike her as unusual the first time; if the line was tied up with a long-distance psychic consult, outside calls rang through to voicemail. It was unusual when it kept happening, though. Blue tried again in another forty-five minutes, and then another.
