Amber and Ashes - Margaret Weis [134]
The water is as air to you … the air will be as water.
Mina recalled Chemosh’s warning about the spell he had cast over her, a warning she had not taken very seriously at the time, for she had not imagined that the two of them would be separated.
The water level was falling rapidly.
Mina pushed at the net with her hands and kicked her feet, trying frantically to free herself. Her efforts were futile, only caused the net to spin wildly.
She tried to draw attention to her plight, doing her best to shake her head, pointing upward.
The faces in the window watched her struggles with avid interest. Either they did not understand or they did not care.
Mina had not forgotten Chemosh’s admonition to call him if she were in trouble. She had been too startled to do so when she first was caught in the net, and then too busy trying to free herself. After that, she had been too proud. He was constantly reminding her that she was weak as all mortals are weak. She wanted to prove herself to him, as she had proven herself at Storm’s Keep. Common sense dictated that she seek his help now.
Mina would not yell out his name in a panic, however. Though she died in this moment, her pride would not allow to beg him.
“Chemosh,” Mina said softly, to herself, to the memory of his dark eyes and his burning touch, “Chemosh, I am in need. The inhabitants of this Tower have caught me in some sort of net.”
The top of her head broke through the surface of the water. She could feel the air on her scalp. Soon she would be exposed to the air.
“Chemosh,” she prayed swiftly, as the water level continued to drop, “if you do not come to me soon, I will die, for they are depriving me of the water I need to breathe.”
Silence. If the god heard her, he did not answer.
The water level fell to her shoulders. She dared not draw in a breath. She held the water in her lungs as long as she could, until her lungs burned and ached. When the pain became too great, she opened her mouth. Water spewed down her chin. She tried to breathe, but she was like a landed fish. She gasped for life, her mouth opening and closing.
“Chemosh,” she said, as the light began to fade, “I come to you. I am not afraid. I embrace death. For now I will no longer be mortal …”
The net and its captive hit the floor. Eagerly, the two wizards turned the handle to the door of the air lock and hastened inside, the skirts of their black robes sloshing through the ankle-deep water. The two leaned down for a better look at their catch.
The woman lay on her back, enmeshed in the net, her eyes wide open, mouth gasping, her lips blue. Her hands and feet twitched spasmodically.
“You were right,” said one wizard to the other, his tone one of academic interest. “She is drowning in air.”
liding through the crystalline Tower walls, Chemosh found himself in a room intended for use as a library in some future point of time. The room was in disarray, but shelves, lining the walls, were undoubtedly meant to hold books. Scroll cases stood empty in the center of the room, along with several writing desks, an assortment of wooden stools and numerous high-backed leather chairs, all jumbled together. A few books stood on the shelves, but most remained in boxes and wooden crates.
“I seemed to have arrived on moving day,” Chemosh commented.
Walking over to a shelf, he picked up one of the dusty volumes that had toppled over on its side. The book was bound in black leather with no writing on the cover. A series of glyphs inscribed on the spine bore the book’s title, or so Chemosh supposed. He could not read them, was not interested in reading them. He recognized them for what they were—words of the language of magic. “So …” he murmured. “As I suspected.”
Dropping the book onto the floor, he looked about for something on which to wipe his hands.
Chemosh continued to poke around, peering into crates, lifting the lids on boxes. He found nothing of any interest to him, however, and he left the library by way of a door at the far end. He entered a narrow corridor that curved