The Perilous Sea (The Elemental Trilogy #2)

“I need remedies that relieve pain, disinfect, expel toxin, and regenerate skin and tissue,” he answered, his tone clipped and aloof.

She was beginning to regret her offer to help. How did she know she herself wouldn’t need those remedies in the very near future? But she extracted the remedies he’d asked for, along with a quantity of food cubes, and sent them to the edge of his shield with a levitation spell.

“Are you an elemental mage with power over water?” she asked.

His reply was a half grimace followed by silence.

“Are you or are you not?” she persisted. All the remedies in the world wouldn’t do him any good when thirst killed him in a few days.

“How long are you going to draw out this good-bye?”

She almost took a step back. He snarled as if he had been born for it, the disdain in his voice sharper than wyvern teeth.

She yanked out a pair of waterskins from the satchel and willed water from underground rivers and oasis lakes to flow to her, while suppressing the urge to utter a wildly mean-spirited retort. He might be surly, but she couldn’t simply abandon him without any water—and no point calling him names when he was already at a disadvantage.

Water, however, did not materialize on command. She told herself that water, an actual substance, would take its time arriving, and in uncertain quantities, depending on the distance and abundance of the nearest source.

But what if she had no power over water? Then she was as doomed as the boy.

A minute passed before the first drop materialized, suspended in midair—she briefly closed her eyes in relief. The boy watched as the water globule grew, remaining utterly unimpressed.

She filled the waterskins and threw them in his direction. One landed directly on the sand with a gurgle and a plop. The other, which she had hurled a little harder, made his shield shimmer slightly before falling to the ground.

That caught her attention. The waterskin would have bounced off a normal shield. But here, if her eyes did not deceive her, the shield, which was in the shape of a dome, had absorbed the impact.

A tensile dome. If the boy had made it himself, he must be quite the mage.

“Now that you have displayed your prodigious kindness, will you just go?” the boy all but growled.

“Yes, I will,” she shot back, “now that you have shown your immense gratitude.”

He had the decency not to respond.

She muttered under her breath as she secured all the flaps inside and outside the satchel and strapped the satchel shut. So much for the hope that this sweet-faced boy might be her protector—the only one who would ever matter to him was himself.

Her heart ached with grief for the stalwart ally she could no longer remember. Her fingers spread over the satchel, the physical manifestation of the meticulous care he had taken with her. But how she wished she could recall just one detail about him. His laughter, she thought, if nothing else, that was the memory she would like to carry with her for—

Her ears pricked. The sandstorm howled as it ever did. But now it sounded as if it was striking large objects in the air—large objects approaching at tremendous speed.

Was rescue on the way? Or further danger? In either case, she had better see who was coming before deciding whether to let them see her. Earlier she had cleared the air for almost a hundred feet around her; now she allowed the sandstorm to take over, except for the space between her and the boy.

He, too, listened carefully, his brow furrowed with concentration.

There were no vibrations in the ground so the approaching objects had to be aerial vehicles, which implied the presence of mages, as the nonmages’ hot-air balloons and flimsy airships would not be able to advance against a sandstorm of such magnitude.

The boy hissed. For the first time, his expression betrayed fear. “Armored chariots.”

Her heart dropped. He was right, the sounds were metallic. Only Atlantis had such vehicles. And at all costs, she must stay away from Atlantis’s grasp.

She didn’t know why, she only knew that it was imperative. Otherwise, all would be lost.

The din of sand striking metal diminished, then disappeared altogether. The sandstorm had not abated; the Atlanteans were clearing the air as she had done earlier.

“Let me in under your dome,” she demanded.

She would be quite defenseless out here, if the armored chariots decided to dispense death rain—she could whip air into motion, but she could not purify it.

“No.”

It would be a waste of time to appeal to his better nature, so she didn’t bother. “Would you like me to signal to them where you are?” she asked, as she picked up the nutrition cubes, the remedies, and the waterskins from the sand. “It’s my understanding you can’t move much.”

The boy bared his teeth. “Your kindness is truly remarkable.”

“And your gratitude humbling to behold. Now let me in or get ready for Atlantis.”