And strangely, there was a new feeling since last he stood there: gratitude. Celia missed what recently occurred in the Greenweald. If she had been here, there was every chance that she would have been one of those laid to rest beneath the trees. At least she missed that, as well as seeing what happened to her father.
He looked down at himself. Scabbard hanging from his belt, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Sturdy boots, pants, and shirt. Pack hung from one shoulder with a few supplies, lighter now that the lantern was no longer in it.
Would all this go through with him?
He hoped so. Much better that than waking up in rags again.
He also thought of the patch that covered his right eye, or more exactly where his eye used to be, and the scar that ran down his face. He hoped Celia liked the new rugged looking him.
The last time he summoned the spirit by swimming in the pool again. It took a while before she finally relented and came to him. Maybe he needed to do the same now? Or something different? You never knew with things like this.
He sighed at the capriciousness of beings like the water spirit and the Guardian. He suspected they did things like this for their own amusement.
Solomon took a moment to make sure everything was secure on him and stepped to the water’s edge, prepared to jump in. The pool was clear and still here where the stream that fed it slowed down until it overflowed the far end. The bottom was sandy, the water was cold, and no fish swam here, or at least not now.
“Well,” he said to himself, “might as well get on with it.”
“There is no need, Solomon,” a soft, quiet voice said from the pool. A face appeared in the water, as if it were a mirror with another’s reflection. It was the blue, pretty face of the water spirit, looking back at him.
“I remember our bargain and will keep it,” she said, “though I caution you again. The way is hard. Are you sure you wish to continue?”
“I am sure,” Solomon answered, crouching down to see her better. “But what about my clothes and stuff? Will they come with me? Or should I leave them here?”
“You will arrive on the other side exactly as you come into my pool.”
Solomon frowned at that, remembering the day he and Celia swam in this pool.
“You took her as she was and delivered her elsewhere like that?”
The water spirit looked away from him, away from the cold edge that entered his voice. “It was not my concern at the time,” she finally said, her voice grown even quieter.
Solomon took a second to compose himself and slow his breathing. “Fine,” he said, “then bring me to her.”
The water spirit looked back at him. “Solomon, you need not do this. You could stay here, by my pool, and I could come to you whenever you desire. Look at you, and what your labors in this world have done. Put it aside, rest here with me, and let the world turn about us.”
“We have a bargain, spirit. Are you living up to it, or do I need to retrieve my sword and boil this pool away to nothing?”
The water spirit sighed. “You could be so much more than what you are. But if you must do this, enter my pool and we will go.”
Solomon slid off the rock he was standing on and into the water, letting it close above his head. He didn’t try to swim, which would have been awkward encumbered as he was. Instead, he let himself sink the short distance to the bottom and waited.
From behind him, two slim blue hands appeared, moving through the water on each side of his head and then in front.
“You may breathe,” the voice of the spirit said.
Solomon took a tentative breath, not putting it past the spirit to play a cruel trick on him, but was able to breathe without difficulty. He turned and faced the her.
She approached him and put her arms around his neck. Before he could move, she pressed her lips against his.
Then she pulled back, and after one last sullen look, reached down and took his hand. He was pulled along as she began to swim in circles. The pool wasn’t large and water was her element, so it only took a moment to complete the first circuit.
The next one took a second longer, and the one after that even more. For every trip around the pool, the time increased, as did the speed of the spirit’s swimming.
Solomon clung tightly to her hand, feeling the drag of the water increase as she went faster. His arm started to feel as if it would rip from its socket, and he was starting to have a hard time breathing. He looked up, thinking to get his head above water for a moment, catch a quick breath, but there was no surface above him, just more water.
Looking down, there was no floor to the pool either, only darkness stretching away into impossible depths.
Suddenly the spirit dove, straight down into that gloom, dragging him with her.
Every fiber of his being screamed out for him to let go, kick for the surface and gulp down sweet air. He fought those feelings and held on all the more tightly.
Pressure started to build, causing his ears to pop, then ring with a sharp stabbing pain. His chest was tight and when he took a tentative sip of air, he got water instead, causing him to choke and spit out whatever air he had left in his lungs.
The water spirit lied after all. She was going to drown him.
He tried to let go,
