Septimus Heap, Book Six_ Darke - Angie Sage [143]
A few feet above the surface of the river the Synchronized pair suddenly—as planned—changed course, but in the moment They slowed, the longest claw on the Darke dragon’s right foot made contact with Their head. Sally suppressed a scream. It would not do Sarah any good right now. She watched Spit Fyre reel back, wings frantically beating the air. Seconds later a massive plume of river water rose into the air.
The Darke dragon hit the surface and sank like a house.
Sally Mullin gave a great whoop of excitement. “You can look now,” she told Sarah as Spit Fyre flew back shakily just above the surface of the river. “They’re all right.” Sarah burst into tears. It had all been too much.
Sally comforted Sarah while keeping one eye on events outside. When she saw Septimus jump into the middle of the fast-flowing river she decided not to tell Sarah.
* * *
The freezing water took Septimus’s breath away. He swam quickly toward Merrin, who was flailing about in the water, yelling, “Help me! Help me! I can’t swim! Help!” This was not strictly true, for Merrin could doggie paddle a few yards, although not enough to reach safety from the middle of the river.
Septimus was a strong swimmer and after the night exercises in the Young Army, swimming in the river did not frighten him. He grasped Merrin around the chest from behind and began the slow swim to the safety of Sally Mullin’s pontoon. Above him Spit Fyre, dripping blood from a deep tear on the top of his head, circled anxiously, but on instructions from Septimus he flew off and landed on the wide stones of the New Quay. The current in the river was sweeping Septimus past Sally Mullin’s pontoon and he knew better than to fight it. He swam diagonally across, heading always for the bank, with Merrin a dead weight in his arms.
Simon watched anxiously. He reflected that not so long ago he would have been pleased to see his youngest brother struggling in the icy river, and he felt ashamed of his old self. He saw where the current was taking Septimus and his burden, so he set off down to the next easy landfall, the New Quay where Spit Fyre had just landed. As Simon jogged down the path he heard a yell from the water followed by some wild splashing. He raced to the quay and saw Septimus struggling with Merrin some yards away—the exact distance, in fact, that Merrin could swim.
Merrin appeared to have miraculously recovered and was now pushing Septimus below the water. Septimus struggled, but the delicate fabric of his Darke Disguise was torn and ragged and it was no match for the power of the Two-Faced Ring, which strengthened tenfold any attempt at murder. As Merrin pushed the spluttering and fighting Septimus once more beneath the water, Simon dove in.
With the power of the Two-Faced Ring—and Merrin himself—fully occupied in drowning Septimus, Simon’s old-fashioned punch to Merrin’s head had the desired effect. Merrin let go of Septimus, took in a huge mouthful of water and began to sink. Septimus looked at his rescuer, shocked.
“You okay?” asked Simon.
Septimus nodded. “Yeah. Thanks, Simon.”
Merrin gave a gurgle and slipped beneath the water.
“I’ll get him,” gasped Simon, teeth chattering as the icy cold began to take effect. “You get to the steps.”
But Septimus did not trust Merrin. He swam alongside Simon as he towed Merrin back and when they reached the New Quay, Septimus helped him haul Merrin out of the water and up the steps. They lay Merrin facedown on the stones like a dead fish.
“We’ll have to get the water out,” said Simon. “I’ve seen them do it at the Port.” He kneeled beside Merrin, placed his hands on Merrin’s ribcage and began to push gently but firmly. Merrin coughed faintly. Then he coughed again, spluttered and suddenly retched up a huge amount of river water. Something went clink onto the stone. At Septimus’s feet lay a small silver disc with a raised central boss. Trying not to think about where it had just come from, Septimus picked it up. It lay heavy in his palm, glinting in the light from the single torch burning