Oh my god, she’sgone. Just like that. Gone.
Farren hits the water with such impact my heart stops. No.I might already be too late. And I’m still too far.
I urge Hort forward again. I think he knows, loves her as I love her, because his wings hammer into the air like this is the most important race we’ll ever fly. And it is.
I set my sight on the spot she landed, but the waves dissolved its evidence. My heart batters against my ribs not knowing if I’m diving in the exact right area. Clouds obscure any moonlight.
“Hort! Dive,” I scream regardless.
The ocean is a crush of the coldest water I’ve ever landed in. It also is the most brutal. It fights us as I enter, tosses us to the side. And then as Hort plunges deeper, the water settles in a freezing embrace. I can’t see anything in the dark water, eyes stinging. But I know Farren’s sinking like a stone in her armor. I know because I did the same months ago. I know what it feels like to be swallowed. And yet, I’d take that over this fear, this fear telling me I’m already too late.
Hort makes to rise to the surface before I can stop him. We break free of the water and into nightfall so dark my eyes don’t adjust to indicate any difference between over or under the waterline. I don’t let them. I gulp in air and yell. “Hort, stay here! Stay right here.” And my glorious dragon listens.
I dive off Hort’s back, alone this time. As soon as I’m under I refuse to let panic overtake me. I push forward and craft, reaching out for that same sense I felt when I suspended Farren in the air for a moment. That was gold. I crafted gold. I just need to do it again. Sense its location like Farren herself reminded and trained me in the fields of the sanctuary.
There! To my right and deep down, something yellow sparkles in my mind’s eye and calls out beneath the oppressive gloom. I tug at the foreign feel of metal, stronger, more powerful than I’m used to. Then, as I dive closer, I craft with all my might. She’s there. She’s right there.
I surge forward until my lungs feel like bursting. Until I clasp her hand.
I break the surface with a gasp, holding Farren to my side. Hort flaps toward us in a frenzy, then dives and scoops us up onto his back, a maneuver he learned from Daphine. I hang on to Farren and let Hort carry us, let speed be on my side.
“Hort, get us home,” I demand as I clutch Farren to my chest.
I frantically feel for Farren’s pulse. Nothing. Or maybe my own heartbeat is pounding too hard to catch a faint beat. But her skin is cold. A freaking dagger sticks out of her bicep. I wrench my focus away and I lean over her mouth. She’s not breathing.
“Please. Please.” I cradle her head so it’s not jostled. There isn’t enough time. How long was she under? I should have immediately tried to sense her gold. I should have… I should have never left her side.
I have to start compressions. My hands go to her chest—plated with gold. “No,” I cry out. My thoughts zoom back to the night of the thunderstorm.You’re the one that took this off me, didn’t you?I’d asked.Yeah, she’d admitted.When someone’s dying, no one pays attention to how the metal gets crafted off. All anyone cares about is that it does.
I’m going to have to get this armor off her. That’s her only chance.
Like my mind is flashing every memory of Farren, another bursts to life.Crack it open. Just crack it open?she asked, panicked about crafting apart Oria’s shell.Yes, I’d answered.Carefully.
Carefully! But using all the power I can muster in order to craft. No wonder Farren trembled. It’s like using the weight of a mountain to break an egg.
I focus in on her side, where most every rider creates a seam of connection. Farren hasn’t though, having thrown this armor on fast and crafting it cleanly around herself. But I visualize a ridge is there nonetheless, and focus. My fingernails scrape against slick wet gold, trying to find purchase. I yell and I pull, and I craft with everything I have. Then gold wrenches apart.
I’ve done it.
I don’t marvel at my victory for a second. I start chest compressions, a rhythm which should match her heart. Her very still heart, while mine runs wild. I feel like I’m going to pass out from the panic. “Please don’t leave me. Farren, don’t leave me.”
A moment later Hort lands on the cliffside of the Walsh Sanctuary. I jump with Farren in my arms, lay her on solid ground, and get back to work. It’s easier on the grass, but with every pump, my mental resolve cracks. It’s been too long. Too far, too long. Not enough.
“James?” A voice bellows.
I don’t look up or stop my chest compressions. Someone would have to kill me to pull my focus away. Farren’s always been able to do that—command all my attention. So much so I could never stop looking at her, staring when I knew I shouldn’t.
Two people thump beside me. “Farren! Oh, my god, Farren.” Shelly’s voice.
I reach for Farren’s head, tilt it back, and blow air into her mouth. Then back to chest compressions.
“What happened? How long was she—” Shelly asks.
“She and Nity were shot down,” I choke out the words.
“Does that mean…?” Jeffrey’s low rumble.
“Nity’s gone,” I answer. “But Farren’s going to make it.” I settle into a steady rhythm, but my wrists protest, my body heaves at the effort. “Farren, come back to me.”