Rune King

A thought rang out in her mind. The tow rope. She tried to turn in the air, to get a view of it. Only a few feet to her left. If she was lucky, then it wouldn't be too big a problem to get to it. Her feet hit the water hard enough to make her knees buckle under her, and then the water was wrapped around her, all the way up to her head.

She tried to scream, but all that came out were some burbles. She tried to fight her way to the surface, but it seemed as if no matter how hard she pulled herself up nothing was working. Her clothes, soaked through in an instant, felt as if they were dragging her down to the bottom. She kicked her boots off, and it seemed to help.

With a powerful jerk she broke free of the water, sucking in a deep breath of water with more than a little salty sea water filling her mouth. A few easy feet. She could make it.

She scrambled. Her body was so heavy. She couldn't possibly stay up. Her body wasn't listening to her. She knew what she was supposed to do. Paddle through the water. Pull herself in the direction she wanted to go. But her body just wasn't listening, in spite of her efforts.

A few short feet. A few easy feet. It could have been a mile. She wasn't moving, no matter what she tried, and the time that she managed to keep her head out of the water seemed to be shorter and shorter each time. With a startling, terrified realization, she saw that it wasn't a few short feet, though. The boat had gone another hundred yards in the time that she'd bobbed there.

A strong arm wrapped around her, under her shoulders. Pulled her backwards through the water. Gunnar had her. She sucked in breath, kicking her feet to try to help keep them awake, but they tangled with his. She tried to turn, to grab him, so that he would have both arms.

She could feel her heart beating. Could feel the panic, threatening to overwhelm her. Her body still refused to move the way she wanted it to. A few deep breaths, and then her nose dipped below the water. She hadn't wanted to admit it. After all, she trusted Gunnar. Knew that he would save her, would protect her. He had already saved her, after all.

But they were miles out from the shore. He couldn't carry them both, and now, though she hated to admit it, they were sinking. It was only a matter of time. She grabbed tight 'round his neck, felt them come back out of the water again. She let out a breath and sucked in another as fast as her lungs were able. This time when they dipped it went over her eyes.

She tried to fight down the panic. She wasn't helping him. She was making things harder. He needed her to calm down. Needed her to relax. She forced herself to stillness. Breathed in deep and held it as they dipped back under the water. She opened her eyes back up, scanning the horizon for the boat. But she couldn't see it.

The ship was sailing on, seeming to get further with every second, and at the same time the little boat that Valdemar had stolen had disappeared. Gunnar was fighting below her, coming back to the surface to breathe, holding them for a few seconds at a time. Long enough to take two, perhaps three long, slow breaths before she had to suck in a last one that would last her until they came back out.

But she knew that they would drown, alone in the sea. There was no way they were going to make it out now. Gunnar stopped fighting it below her. His legs kicked slowly, but he had stopped moving his arms. Was he already too tired to continue? Was it because he had to carry both of them?

She tried to copy his movements, to paddle them both back toward the surface of the water. It was close enough that with her arm outstretched she could feel the open night air.

Just a little bit would be enough to give them both another breath of life. Would save them for another minute or two. Long enough for Ulf to turn the ship around, and bring it around to them. But her strokes did nothing for them. They sunk more, the dark of the sea slowly wrapping around them.

Then Gunnar surged back powerfully. Deirdre felt the belt wrapped around his waist come undone and slip off. They crested out of the water hard. Deirdre sucked in water. The effort to stop panicking was gone now. She couldn't stop herself any more.

She felt like laughing. Felt like crying. The knowledge that she was going to die, and that there was nothing they could do about it, brought a strange freedom. What did it matter what she did now? She could panic. She could have anything she wanted.

Brigid didn't matter any more. Answers didn't matter. Gunnar's fighting didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She was going to die here, and that was that. Easy. No need to untangle anything. No need to understand. Gunnar fought below her to keep them afloat. But it was pointless. They were never going to make it to shore, and she had doomed them both by jumping in after him.

Now both boats were too far to reach. She tried to look for them, but her eyes wouldn't focus. She could barely see her the back of Gunnar's head, inches in front of her face.

They dipped below the surface again. Deirdre couldn't hold her breath. Couldn't stop laughing long enough. It didn't matter. She sucked in a breath that was half-way salt water and she closed her eyes as they were engulfed in water. It was just a matter of time now. They might as well stop fighting.

Something from below, from deep in the sea, reached and grabbed her round the waist and pulled her. Or was it from above? She couldn't tell.

She came free of the water and was laid out on the seats of the rowboat, still laughing as the tears streamed down her face.

Gunnar felt someone lifting Deirdre off him, but he was too exhausted to figure what it was. He hadn't expected her to follow him in, and he especially hadn't figured on her panicking the way that she had. He surged back to the surface with a last bit of effort, floated on his back as best he could. Took the opportunity to take in a few slow breaths and regain his composure.

There was a hand, shoved into his face. He took it. Whatever was going on, he'd get out of this water. The boat tipped a little as he was pulled on, then it straightened and Gunnar was lying on the seats of the little row-boat that Valdemar had stolen. Deirdre lay beside him, her panicked laughing cut in with sobs. He frowned. That wasn't how he liked to see her. Not one bit.

Gunnar laid his head back. He still had to catch his breath. That was the only thing he could do for her at the moment. Once he was breathing again, he could see to her, he could get her on land. Then she'd be alright. But until then, he was sorry to say, she would have to wait.

He played through the last few minutes in his mind. He hadn't let himself think at all, the whole time. Just kept moving, conserving what strength he could. Carrying another in the water was hard, but it was nothing compared to carrying someone while they tried their damned best to drown in a panic.

He pulled himself upright. Valdemar was rowing them down the way, decidedly not looking at them. His eyes were on the horizon, and Gunnar and Deirdre were just in the way of the deep dark he stared out into. Gunnar was thankful for that much.

He turned to the woman beside him, soaked straight through to the bone. She was coughing hard, between being racked with sobs. But that was the best that he could hope for, he reminded himself. It could have been so much worse.

She'd breathed in some water, and her body wasn't getting rid of it properly. More than that, she was losing color in her face fast. Gunnar reached a finger into her mouth and tried to clear her throat of any obstructions, then breathed in. He had to do something. He turned her over and tried to squeeze the air out.

She coughed harder over his shoulder, then promptly pulled herself loose and heaved over the side, then sicked into the water. She pushed herself back into the seat beside him. She looked more tired than he'd ever seen her. Small and defeated, nothing like the rebellious, fiery woman he had seen when he first looked at her.

Gunnar stood up to move to take the oars, and saw her stiffen.

/> "It's okay. You're okay. We're safe." He tried to keep his voice, usually gruff, as soft as he could. She was scared. She let out another sob of laughter before she could stop herself. He could see it bothered her from the way she balled up her fists at her sides. But he couldn't help that.