The cold was seeping into Rix now, making his bones ache. And none worse than his regrown wrist bones, where the pain was a clawing beast trying to take the dead hand off forever.
He had to ignore it. He had a duty to Glynnie. Rix swam around the body, keeping well clear, picked up the flagon and set it on the door to use as a float, then swam towards the pile where he had left Glynnie, pushing the door before him.
There was no sign of her. Had he lost her too? Was fate determined to strip every good thing from him, grinding him down with failure after failure until he had nothing left?
He checked the shore, keeping low in the water. The mist was thickening, the guards appearing and disappearing behind it, but they were ever-watchful and if he made a mistake they would have him.
He steered the door around the mooring pile, scanned its sides and could not see Glynnie. She was not on top, either. Then a small head bobbed out of the water and she was staring at him with those huge green eyes. Her teeth were chattering.
Her gaze narrowed, raked the lake all around Rix. Her eyes went dark and she sagged in the water. “Where’s Benn?”
“I’m sorry,” said Rix, wishing he was a thousand miles away; wishing he had died with his family; anything to escape the desperate ache in her eyes. “I looked everywhere. That’s why I’ve been so long. I–I had to make sure.”
Her voice rose. “What do you mean, make sure?”
“I’m sorry,” Rix repeated. “Benn’s gone. I don’t — ”
“No!” she whispered, let go of the rope, and sank.
Rix lunged, caught her by the tangled hair streaming up above her head and drew her to the surface. The moment her chin was above water, she opened her mouth wide, as if to scream. He thrust the heel of his dead hand across her lips, indicating the guards on the shore with a jerk of his head.
“If you scream, we’re dead!”
Again Glynnie closed her eyes and sank. Again he lifted her up. Again she went to scream. This time he pulled her to him until her face was pressed against his chest, then put both arms around her, holding her tightly. She heaved against him, thrashing her legs, kicking with her feet. He squeezed the air out of her, and kept doing so each time she took a breath, until she gave in and sagged against him.
The pain in his wrist eased, then came shrieking back. It was getting worse. Something was badly wrong with his right hand. Of course there was — it was dead, and still attached. Rix frog-kicked to the door, which had drifted a few yards away, fought the pain and put her hands on the edge.
“All — all right now?” he said.
It was a stupid thing to say. For a few seconds he thought she was going to punch his teeth down his throat, but she restrained herself. She dashed the water off her face, then looked up at him.
“What happened? Is Benn… he wasn’t…?”
He had to conceal his pain from her. They couldn’t both crack up. “The glowstone was there, and so was his pack, but he was gone.”
“If you mean killed — if you mean… eaten — ”
“There was no evidence he was attacked at all…”
“He didn’t come down the drainpipe after us?”
“I think he must have. I’m sorry, Glynnie…” The useless words failed on his lips.
She pulled herself up on the door, crouched there.
“What are you doing?” hissed Rix. “Get down! The guards will see you.”
Glynnie slowly stood up, rocking the door and knocking the flagon off. She swayed, threw her arms out, then turned in a circle, surveying the grey water. As she turned another circle, the light in her eyes slowly went out. The wind fluttered her wet hair. Her teeth chattered and she slipped back into the water.
“Maybe…” She blanched. “What if a shifter…?”
“There was no sign of a struggle. No — ”
“Blood! If there was no blood, why don’t you say it?”
“All right — there was no blood. No shifter stink, either.”
“He wouldn’t have gone into the water. He must have been captured. We’ve got to rescue him.”
“I don’t think he’s been captured. His pack hadn’t been touched. I went back up the tunnel to those bodies and the only tracks I saw were ours.”
“But it’s possible he’s been captured,” she said desperately.
The pain in his wrist came back, worse than before, jagged spears along the bones. After a long pause, Rix said, “Yes. It’s possible.”
“Then we have to rescue him.”
“How, Glynnie?”
“I don’t know!” she wailed.
“Shh! Sound carries across water.” He checked on the guards. They were still patrolling, watchful as ever.
“It’s my fault. I should have let you take him first.”
“If I had, you’d have been captured and he’d now be begging me to rescue you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“I swore I’d look after Benn. He’s just a little boy.”
“And you’re a girl.”
She bridled. “I’m a grown woman. I’m seventeen. Nearly as old as you.”
She said it with such earnestness that Rix had to smile. “Not quite.” He counted the days. “Tomorrow’s my twentieth birthday.”
“Besides,” she said with quiet dignity, “Benn’s the one who matters.”
“Why does he matter more than you?”
Tears welled in her eyes. “I promised Mama, before she died, that I’d look after him. I’ve been looking after myself since I was twelve — ”
Someone bellowed, from the shore. Rix twisted around and squeezed her left shoulder, hard. “Don’t move.”
She broke off. “What’s that?”
“Someone shouting orders. At the guards.”
They lowered themselves until their eyes were just above the water and edged around the door to face the shore. Mist danced and drifted in the wind, revealing then concealing the guards patrolling the edge of the lake. A burly officer was running towards a group of guards, waving a signal flag and shouting.
“What’s he saying?” said Glynnie. “Is it about us?”
“I couldn’t hear. But I’m prepared to bet it is. Back.”
Rix turned the door and began to push it out into the lake, using great scissor kicks. The effort sent jags of pain through his wrist; it felt as though the join was on fire again.
“We can’t leave Benn,” said Glynnie.
It was a struggle to break through the pain now. Just speaking took an effort. “He’s lost to us, Glynnie, and he wouldn’t want you — ”
“How would you know what Benn would want?” she hissed. “You don’t know him. You don’t know any of us.”
“I know he loved his big sister,” said Rix. “And he’d do anything to protect you.”
She did not respond.
Rix started panting. It was the only way to control the pain.
“What’s the matter?” said Glynnie sharply. “You sound like you’re having a baby.”
“I’m all right.” He lifted his arm off the door, into the water. The cold did not ease the pain this time.
Glynnie lifted his arm. His wrist was crimson and swollen all around the join with his dead hand.
“Oh!” she said, like a healer realising the worst.
Onshore, the officer skidded to a stop, let out an indecipherable bellow, then pointed out into the lake towards the submerged outlet of the drainpipe. Several of the guards ran to him. Others raced back along the shore and were lost behind a banner of mist.
“They know how we got out, and they’ll have a boat in the water in minutes.” He looked around for inspiration but found none in the grey water or the leaden sky. Hope evaporated. “I can’t fight any more. We’re lost.”
“We’re never giving up, Lord,” Glynnie said fiercely. “We got to survive — then come back and find Benn.”
“Yes,” he said dully.
They were making slow progress, less than ten yards in a minute, and it was not enough. The cold was seeping into Rix’s bones now and it was a struggle to think. He vaguely remembered seeing something earlier that might help them, but could not dredge up the memory.