Then the pain came again, and this time it was hot like fire. His magic seemed to be cooking him from the inside out. He knew he had to embrace the pain to see Brianna again. He had to give himself to the pain and let it take him wherever it wanted. He was afraid and not sure what to do, but then he heard the voice again.
Breathe, she told him.
Yes, he realized. He needed to breathe. He focused on breathing, on pulling the air into his lungs and blowing it back out. It was difficult. In fact it was the hardest thing he had ever tried to do. His body ached with the effort, but he didn’t give up, and the more he breathed the easier it became. Then, there was a snap. It felt almost like popping his fingers, but with the snap came a deeper awareness. He could remember everything. The dragon, the mountains, falling with Brianna in his arms and the dreadful crash at the bottom of the canyon. His arms, neck, and shoulders were stiff, and his head ached dreadfully. He could hear Brianna crying, but opening his eyes was difficult.
“Oh, Zollin,” she said, bowing down so that he couldn’t see her anymore.
Her cries were muffled, and Zollin felt confused. He could see the gray walls of snow above him and a bright patch of blue sky high above. But he couldn’t see Brianna. He tried lifting his head, but the pain was too intense. It shot sharp stabs down his neck and into his arms and chest.
“Brianna,” he said weakly.
“Zollin,” she said, and he felt his body shift. It was like being nudged by an invisible hand.
“I can’t see you,” he said.
She raised herself up and looked at him with a worried expression.
“You can’t see?”
“No, I can see you now. I just couldn’t see you when you were bent over.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping at something. “I’ve gotten your shirt all wet.”
“No, it’s okay. I can’t even feel it,” he said.
“You can’t feel that?” she said.
“No,” he said.
“What about this?”
“I don’t feel anything,” he said.
Brianna looked at him and there was something in her face that Zollin knew he should recognize, but he didn’t know what it was. Why did she look so afraid? They were alive, they were together, what could possibly be wrong?
“Zollin,” she said in a trembling voice. “You can’t feel your legs?”
“Of course I can,” he said. But then he realized he couldn’t.
He was hurting everywhere from his chest up, but below that, he felt nothing at all. No pain, not the cold snow, not Brianna’s tears, not even his magic.
* * *
The boat was rocking, and Quinn was leaning against the ship’s railing. His stomach seemed to clench and lurch with every movement the ship made. His lips were chapped and every muscle ached. He knew he was dehydrated, but even the thought of water made him nauseous. Still, his mind focused on his duty. He had been sent to get Zollin and bring him back to Gwendolyn. His heart seemed to soar whenever he thought of her. She was stunningly beautiful, although he couldn’t remember exactly what she looked like, and his desire for her was like a wild fire. Being with her, pleasing her, doing whatever she wanted him to do: that was his life’s ambition. There were other things in the back of his mind, important things, but he resolutely ignored them.
The ship he and Mansel had been ordered to take north was sailing smoothly. The wind was propelling them along, and the Great Sea of Kings was not like sailing across the ocean. The waves were smaller, and the Great Sea was not saltwater so there was no briny smell to further sicken his stomach. Still, it always took Quinn several days to overcome seasickness. He couldn’t do anything until the nausea passed except huddle down against the railing and wait.
Mansel had been sick too, but his own sea legs had returned much more quickly than during his first time at sea. Quinn and Mansel had been sent to Osla to protect Prince Wilam, who was serving in the Grand City as Yelsia’s ambassador. They had sailed south, and Mansel had been sick for two whole days before the debilitating nausea had finally passed. They had survived an attack by pirates, but then Quinn had left Mansel behind in Cape Sumar. It was merely a stroke of good fortune that their paths had crossed again as Quinn led the Prince north through Falxis, and although Mansel had not brought up the incident, he had not forgotten it. Now, he let his anger against his mentor burn, and he used that anger to strengthen his resolve. He couldn’t let Quinn steal the credit for bringing Zollin back to Gwendolyn. Just one look at the Lady of the Sea, as he had come to think of her, was all it took for him to know that he would do anything to be near her. Quinn was in Mansel’s way, and although he owed Quinn everything he knew about swordsmanship and fighting, he couldn’t let the older man steal Gwendolyn’s affections.
He unbuckled his sword belt and left all his weapons in a neat pile on the deck. The ship was small and they didn’t have private quarters, but he doubted that any of the seamen would bother his things. He walked toward Quinn, hardening his resolve.
“Still sick?” he asked.
“Aye,” Quinn said through gritted teeth.
“Here, let me help you up. I think you’ll fare better near the rear of the ship.”
“What?” Quinn asked.
Mansel didn’t try to explain. He just took hold of Quinn’s arm and hoisted the man up. Quinn was too weak to resist. His legs were too shaky to support his own weight, and he leaned into Mansel.
“Sorry,” Mansel said, and then he shoved Quinn hard.
Quinn felt the hard railing of the deck dig into his lower back, and then his feet flew up into the air. That terrifying moment seemed to last ages. He could feel his center of gravity shifting out over the water. His legs kicked but they touched nothing. His hands scratched at the railing, trying desperately to find something to hold onto, something that would stop his plunge into the water below. Even though his muscles were galvanized with adrenaline, he couldn’t hold himself up. He saw the ship’s rail and Mansel’s face as he fell. Then the water covered him in cold darkness.
Mansel saw Quinn splash into the water, but the ship was moving swiftly along, and his mentor was soon swept away. Some of the sailors witnessed Mansel’s treachery, but the warrior merely turned and glared at the sailors. None of the seamen wanted to follow Quinn overboard, so they went on with their work without saying a word. One of the sailors in the rear of the ship tossed a wooden bucket overboard, but no one took notice. Mansel strapped on his weapons and settled down on the deck with his back to the mast.
Quinn was not a strong swimmer, but he was able to get his head above water in time to see the ship sailing away. Around him he could see nothing but dark, cold water. The water wasn’t cold enough to be life-threatening, but it was a shock to Quinn’s body, which was still weak from sea sickness. Then he saw the bucket. It came flying over the rear of the ship and splashed into the water not far from Quinn. He swam to it and found it bobbing in the water. He wrapped his arms around the bucket and felt the tiny vessel’s buoyancy hold him up in the water. His shivering body relaxed and let the bucket take his weight.
He couldn’t believe what was happening. He had been shoved overboard by Mansel. He couldn’t imagine why, and in fact his mind was struggling just to comprehend the situation. All he knew for certain was that he had to hang onto the bucket. His stomach churned, but there was nothing left to vomit. He dry-heaved, his body shivering from cold, his mind struggling to understand.
Then he remembered. . everything. He and Mansel had been sent on a mission to bring Prince Wilam safely back to Yelsia. Then they had met the witch in Lodenhime. When Quinn thought of Gwendolyn he felt an emotional tug, but he was no longer bewitched by her. He felt anger rise up inside him, stronger than the seasickness that had plagued him. He couldn’t believe that a woman had somehow pulled him away from his duty. He had never experienced anything like the witch’s power before. He could remember what he did and even why he did it, but he couldn’t isolate why he was so enthralled with the woman. She was beautiful, he knew that, even though he couldn’t remember exactly what she looked like. Still, he didn’t feel affection for her, it was more like animal passion.