Down below, the waters lapped, cool and inviting, and before Iwa knew what was happening, she felt her toe touch the calm surface of the stream. How pleasant it was to feel the water swell over her foot, far nicer to touch than the passages which were out to kill her. Around her toes the water girdled invitingly, soothing the warm skin of her feet. At least the water doesn’t play any nasty tricks.
Yet, even as she stretched further down and felt the liquid bathe her ankles, some distant part of her mind screamed out its warning. But it was too late, the bridge had already begun to shift and she was falling, her arms flailing as she toppled over into the stream. Somehow she managed to grab hold of the bridge, but the stones loosened about her fingers and she was flung towards the depths.
‘No!’ she cried as the water spun around her ankles. But it was too late. The waters lapped around her waist, pulling her under as she scrabbled for a handhold.
Somebody grabbed her. It was Strurmovit, his hand tight on hers as he tried to lift her up. But the waters held her firm. She kicked out in a desperate effort to get to safety, but this was no ordinary current, the water was like glue around her and, for all his strength, Sturmovit couldn’t hold on.
Dimly she was aware of the shore and Sturmovit’s face peering down at her as the water swelled over her face. She heard the chuckle of the Rusalki swirl round her. All was black now, except for a trickle of light. She could make out the pig-faced demon above, the face distorted by the ripple of the waters. It all seemed so distant; her body floated in the dark as the cold closed in and her lungs began to ache.
The pig-faced demon seemed to be uttering an incantation, the hoofed arms waving in the air, alive with the crackle of magic. But the world above was so far away, and the waters lapped around Iwa as the current pulled her further down. Strange shapes peered through the depths. They didn’t look like Rusalki. She had the sense of something very cold and evil, a malign presence drawn from the very beginning of things.
There was a disturbance in the water above, though Iwa doubted that any spell would reach her. Through the black she felt it call, the current eddying angrily around it. Again it called, and this time she felt something kick within her. Then her own magic woke in a molten ball of fire, deep in the pit of her stomach. Around her, elements of the craft darted, her power echoing across the hall. The waters reared over her, the black shapes reaching for her as she began to panic.
She was lost, the craft blistering around her in a formless mass, the configuration spinning ever faster as it threatened to engulf her. No, she had to be calm. Screwing up her eyes, Iwa imagined the pattern of her magic forming from the angry riot of colour that twisted around her. Gradually she quelled the tide and felt the colour begin to calm, angry reds and greens fading to softer hues as she brought them to heel.
But was it too late? Surely the waters have already taken me? Iwa could feel herself caught in the currents and dragged further down. Breathing hard, she fought down her fear. She could feel her panic ripple through her layer of magic as she wondered what to do next. She could see the water rising above her, her eyes filling with white as her lungs ached. Still her craft wouldn’t obey her, the colours mute as they waited. Desperately, she commanded them to move, but there was nothing, not even the faintest ripple in the craft as her lungs grew cold and filled with water.
From the depths one of the creatures came for her. She felt the semblance of a clawed hand round her calf, the slight pull ready to drag her further down. Then there was a flash as her world exploded into a molten ball. Somehow she’d managed to get up onto the floor, the paving cracked under her as she lay sprawled across the stones.
‘What happened?’ she asked as she hugged her knees to her chest, her lungs aching so that she hardly utter the words.
‘I did not realise you had inherited so much of the craft,’ the pig-faced demon said, almost in awe. ‘My spell awakened it within you.’
Still spluttering, she was helped up, Sturmovit’s hands surprisingly gentle as he arranged her into a sitting position. Her lungs were filled with the cold, though the ache had subsided. For the moment she was glad to just be alive, though she didn’t much like the idea of these forces stirring deep within her. More than anything she wanted this all to end, to feel nothing more than Tomaz kick her ribs as she slept.
The demon stood before her, unmoving, as its eyes glared down. ‘The magic that lurks within this place keeps its plans well hidden. As far as I could see you were safe on the other side. It was only at the last moment that I perceived the danger.’
‘So what happened?’ Iwa looked down to find that her feet and ankles were completely dry. There was no trace of the claw marks either, though she could still feel them about her.
‘Your magic rose up to save you. Few, even amongst the great conjurers of the east, could have wielded such power. This is not the first time that the craft has taken you.’
‘Sometimes I slip into the minds of animals. I used to think
