Mercedes Lackey - Elvenblood

She couldn't even cry out for help; she kept choking on the water.

Finally her gyrations freed it quite by accident, and she bobbed to the surface as it dragged downward on her belt. She clung to the grate then, panting, until she recovered enough to follow her brother.

Fortunately, the end of the tunnel was not far away; now she was able to make out another dim half-circle of light up ahead of her, and a pair of dark blots that must be the heads of Myre and Lorryn side by side in the middle of the light. Now she actually swam, rather than letting the current take her or simply paddling like a child, and in spite of the drag of her soaked pack, she reached their side in a very few moments.

Lorryn heard her coming, and held out a hand to catch her. As she peered past him, she saw that the aqueduct gave directly out on a river, the bank here was overgrown, and the weeds hung down into the water, forming a screen between them and the open water.

The sun was up, but the day was overcast, and it looked like rain. Heavy, black clouds rolled sullenly across the small patch of sky visible from the tunnel, and Rena thought she heard the growl of thunder in the distance.

"If you had to pick a day to run, this was a good one," Myre said, her whisper echoing down the tunnel. "We should wait here until the rain starts. Once there's a downpour going, even patrols will stay inside until it's over—and a good strong rain will wash away tracks and scent if they try to follow us with hounds."

Rena was already soaked and cold; the prospect of traveling through the punishing rain of a thunderstorm wasn't a pleasant one.

But we're running for our lives! she chided herself immediately. Be sensible! What's a little water, if it will help keep Father from following us?

The only trouble was—if the rain kept people inside, it would follow that she and Lorryn might be missed sooner.

I can probably count on Father letting me sleep late this morning, too, after my little "betrothal dinner," but what about Lorryn? How soon would his servants come to wake him? And would he actually be missed if he wasn't in his bed? Would they assume he was at a gathering and hadn't yet come home?

Thunder did rumble in the near distance, making her jump. Of all the things she had imagined she would do to find the dragons, this situation had never entered her mind. The girl dreaming in the garden, surrounded by birds, seemed another person entirely.

Lightning arced across the sky overhead; thunder exploded above them as Rena shrieked involuntarily, and the skies opened up.

"Now!" Myre said fiercely, and thrust herself through the weeds, out into the pouring rain.

Lorryn followed; Rena, gasping and clutching at handfuls of clay and tough weed stems, followed him. Myre was already halfway up the bank; Lorryn stopped only long enough to give her a hand out of the river before taking to his heels himself.

She scrambled up the bank behind him, pausing only long enough to wrestle her pack back on. She slipped and fell along the slippery clay bank so many times, she lost count; her hands stung and burned from weed cuts and nettle strings, and they were the only parts of her that felt warm.

Her sides ached, and she was panting for breath by the time she reached the top of the steep bank, and dove into the dubious shelter of a tangle of wet bushes beside Lorryn. Myre was already peering through the rain, looking for something. Rena was glad, now, that she had cut off her hair when she'd put on the slave's old clothing; at least she wasn't fighting masses of wet, tangled hair.

"We need something faster than our legs," Myre muttered. "Horses, maybe, if we can steal them."

"What about a boat?" Lorryn countered. "There are usually small boats just downriver from here. Father keeps them there for pleasure-angling and dallying on the river."

Myre finally turned to look at him, her dripping hair straggling over one eye. "Just how ornamental are these boats?" she asked skeptically. "We don't want to float off in something that screams 'elven lord.' And I don't know the first thing about boats, anyway."

"I've used them," Lorryn assured her, "and it doesn't matter how ornamental they are. I know how to use my magic, remember? I can make it look like—"

Then he stopped, and Myre smiled sardonically. "Exactly. And have your magic scream to anyone that can sense it that you're right down here."

He winced, shamefaced. "Well, they aren't that ornamental," he muttered.

Rena remembered the boats; Lorryn had taken her out in one, a very long time ago, for a long, lazy afternoon on the water. Like every moment she had spent outside the bower, every detail was etched into her memory.

"There may be some heavier boats that the slaves use on the other side of the dock," she said, closing her eyes to call the memories up. "And if there aren't—well, pick the plainest, and I can make it plainer. I can fade the paint with my magic; that's so weak, I don't think anyone will sense it. And we can use the axe to pry off any ornamental woodwork; it's all just tacked onto the original boat, anyway."

Myre turned to look at her with surprise; she obviously hadn't anticipated Rena being anything but a tagalong and a burden. "We can try that," she said shortly. "We aren't that far from the dragons, anyway. The dragons will be happy to see you and shelter you, and once we're away from Lord Tylar's estate, it won't be hard to get to them."

She peered out into the rain once more. "Come on," she said, gesturing to them to follow, and darted back out into the downpour.

The docks were there, and so were the boats, including those used by the slaves to catch fresh fish for their master's table. Lorryn and Rena untied the stiff, water-soaked ropes that held one of the boats to the dock at stern and prow; Myre stood in the middle of the boat and pushed it away from the dock with a long pole at Lorryn's direction. There were oars, but with this storm sending so much water into the river, they didn't need them. The current caught the light boat right away; with Lorryn at the rudder, it moved out into the center of the river with ever-increasing swiftness. It was left to Myre and Rena to bail out the bottom while Lorryn steered.

How long until we're off Father's land? Rena wondered fretfully, as she scooped water out of the bottom with a canvas bucket and tossed it over the side. Not only was rain continuing to pour down on them, the boat itself leaked at every seam; it was all she and Myre could do to keep the water level from rising dangerously. How long until the Council members are told that Lorryn is missing? What will they do when they know? Will they go back to the Council and report him or—She could not think of an alternative. She could not think of anything at the moment—

"There they are!"

The shout rang across the water from the bank; Rena looked up, startled, through a short swath of dripping, rainsoaked hair.

On the bank were riders, all elves, in full armor. One of them was pointing directly at them. Rena felt a tingle along her nerves, a shiver along her skin that had nothing to do with the cold.

Lorryn swore. "They know it's us," he said, shortly. They're using magic to identify us."

And was their magic strong enough to seize the runaways—or even kill them here and now?

Myre looked around frantically, as if for a weapon or a means of escape. "Can't you make this thing go any faster?" she shrieked over the pouring rain and the thunder.

Of course he can! He has the power—"Do it!" Rena urged. "It can't matter; they already know it's us and where we are! Hurry!"

Lorryn dashed his hair out of his eyes with an impatient hand and let go of the rudder. He raised both hands over his head, as the riders on the bank milled, then retreated, obviously expecting an attack.