Page 36 of A Dark and Drowning Tide

“I see,” she said.

With a dismissive shake of his head, he turned back around.

When she turned the button over in her fingers, the only thing she could make out was a worn engraving of a dragon. One way or another, she would catch him. She tucked it back into her pocket and took up her paddle again.

The river was strong, frothing white around the rocks jutting from its surface. There was something infinitely reassuring about being ableto see the smooth river stones at the bottom, a mosaic of cool blues and grays. Schools of bright silver fish cut through the water, and near the swollen banks, turtles basked on logs draped in thick coats of moss. It was all perfectlylovely—andperfectly ordinary. She detected no glimmers of magic in the water, no strange and fantastical beasts, no unusual plant life. Had she not seen the readings herself, she might have suspected Adelheid was lying.

Lorelei found her attention pulled toward Sylvia. Her boat was a solid ten meters in front of the others, even though she was the only one paddling. Adelheid kept her focus trained on the glass face of her dowsing machine. The sunlight spun her straw-like hair into gold, but her jaw was set and her brows furrowed with concern. Even from a distance, Lorelei could see the muscles in Sylvia’s forearms working, the cling of the white fabric of her linen shirt. She had rolled up her sleeves and left her coat draped over the seat beside her.

Lorelei tore her eyes away. What had gottenintoher lately?

Ludwig and Heike’s boat lagged behind. Ludwig paddled in between plucking water lilies from the river’s surface and gathering cattails from the banks. They came dripping out of the water and disappeared into the vasculum around his neck. Heike, meanwhile, had her oar slung across her lap and rested her chin primly on the back of her hand, as though she were sitting in a hansom cab. She’d even brought a parasol.

Unaccountably, a shiver passed through Lorelei. The river reflected the trees looming on either side of its banks. They stood tall but at odd angles, like teeth sitting crookedly in gums. The soil beneath them was dark and waterlogged, and the banks of the river looked as though they’d collapsed. All the grass beyond them had died, either trampled or pulled out by the roots. The air hung heavy, like a thick blanket of wool. It dampened all the sound, save for the rush of water.

Lorelei glanced over at Adelheid. The dowsing machine’s wire shivered, far more violently than Lorelei had seen before. Then it went terribly still.

The glass cracked.

Adelheid lifted her gaze to Lorelei and said, with impressive calm, “We have a problem.”

The current guided them into a wide stretch of the river. It seemed to be carved crudely out of the earth in the shape of an open eye. Many of the trees on its northern side had snapped clean in half like broken bones. Others lay flat to the earth, their bark flayed in long, uneven strips. Standing or felled, many of them were marred with deep gashes that wept sap. Lorelei peered over the side of the boat and nearly lost her balance from vertigo. The water beneath their boats was a pure and startling blue that went down for what seemed like miles.

At the very bottom, Lorelei spotted a fleck of red that shimmered like a coin at the bottom of a well. The image of blood pooling against cobblestones stole into her mind, and her stomach lurched dangerously. She tightened her grip on the oar, focusing on the sound of her leather gloves grinding against wood, on the tremulous rush of her breath.

Sylvia leaned over the edge of her boat and went quite pale. “This is not good.”

As if on cue, the water rippled steadily like the pulse of a heart. The splash of crimson at the bottom of the well stirred, and Lorelei swore she saw eyes glowing in the darkness. The image shattered as the water churned beneath them. She could see nothing but a rush of bubbles.

“I suspected something like this might happen.” Adelheid held fast to her machine as the waves rocked their boats.

“Perhaps you should save the gloating for another time,” Heike hissed.

Before Lorelei could draw another breath, something burst from the depths like coils of rope dredged from the sea. Its head breached first, then its neck, then two massive forelimbs with claws as long as Lorelei was tall. They dug into the earth as the beast hauled itself out of the water, and a nearby tree groaned as it snapped. Water sluiced off its scales in gouts.

A blood-red dragon stared down at them. Its green eyes were mottled with gold. As it blinked, an opalescent film slid diagonally over its eye.

Johann made a quick series of hand gestures Lorelei only vaguelyrecognized—areligious warding of some sort. He muttered under his breath. The only clear word she could make out wasdemon.

Heike stifled a scream. “What is that thing?”

“That,” Sylvia said wanly, “is a lindworm.”

The only mention of lindworms in Sylvia’s travelogues were the lengths she had gone to avoid them.

Ludwig curled into himself, pressing his forehead to his knees. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”

Sylvia shouted, “If you remaincalm—”

The lindworm let out a low, rattling growl from deep within its belly. The surface of the water quivered at the sound. It coiled itself tighter and tighter, readying to strike. Its hungry gaze was fixed on Sylvia. She reached for the saber at her hip but seemed to think better of it.

Why wasn’t she doing anything?

All Lorelei could imagine was her pale, terrified face reflected in those terrible eyes. All she could see was her white hair stained red with blood. She did not think. She raised her arms and called on her power.

The aether leapt to answer her, sparks of pale blue shimmering in the air. She gritted her teeth against the weight and force of the river, and in an instant, the thread binding her will to the river’s wore thin enough to snap. A trickle of blood ran down her nose and over her lips.Too much, too soon. She couldn’t do this.

Then, suddenly, it felt weightless.