The Amulet Of Nicmir (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 1)

Chapter 15

Chad hit the water like a rock, plunging five feet under from his momentum.

It was cold. That was the first thing that registered. The water cut through his clothes and straight to the bone with icy tendrils, deadly and chilling. Chad probably would've been shivering if he hadn't been fighting against the current to reach the surface and fill his lungs with oxygen.

When he finally surfaced and managed a single relieving breath, the river sucked him under again like a cyclone.

He knew he wouldn't live much longer if he couldn't get out of the current and swim to shore. His body had been pushed to its limit the past few days, and on top of that, any sleep he'd gotten was short, fitful, and riddled with nightmares. He was exhausted, and what little strength he had left in him was being leeched out along with his body heat as the river chewed him in its frigid maw.

A thought struck Chad, and it surprised him. What did he have to live for, anyway? Lillian? Nyle? Sam? Crynia? He barely knew them. They meant something to him, but that something was very small. Besides, their deaths were inevitable at this point, their quest futile. The Amulet was back in the clutches of some Canivera guard who would probably sell it. Eventually, it would find its way back to Agnir, and everything Philip had worked for would be undone.

Any hope they'd ever had was now smothered, just like Chad's lungs felt as the water tumbled him like a stone in an earthen jar.

It wasn't like Chad had allowed himself much hope in the first place. Why anchor hope in something so shrouded in mystery? No one knew what the Amulet's purpose or value was, nor what to do with it. They knew only that it belonged to Agnir, and he safeguarded it with the utmost secrecy. And yet, some irrational part of Chad had prompted him to have at least a little faith in the chance that they—just a handful of hurting teens—could do something about the tyranny and oppression plaguing the world. It seemed so silly, when he really considered it.

Chad's ribs slammed into a rock, and he gasped. Water flooded into his mouth, down his throat. He choked. More water. It felt like he was breathing fire.

His parents came to mind, their faces flashing across his memory, but they were hazy, like ink on a letter distorted with water. It made Chad want to sob, even as he was drowning. The memory of their faces was already fading. He hated himself for forgetting.

He opened his mouth and stopped struggling. Icy water filled his lungs. He was at the mercy of the river.

Exactly where he wanted to be.

The darkness closing in on the edges of his vision like a drawstring being pulled was suddenly ripped away. Chad was falling. Blue light contorted around him in ribbons and tentacles, brushing past him and making his skin tingle with goosebumps.

Chad closed his eyes, too tired to do anything more. Was this the afterlife? He'd never really believed in the stories of the five gods, so he hardly understood why he'd make it here. Maybe it was his mind trying to give him peace as he died. Maybe he was hallucinating.

When he hit the ground, it was softer than it should have been from that height, but it still hurt.

Chad landed flat on his back. The ground seemed springy, almost, a bit like the soil among the mangroves, but this was flat and smooth, like someone had managed to merge glass and leather into a sheet of supple...stuff.

The first thing he noticed was that he couldn't smell a thing. He recalled the same from his dream the night before.

So obviously, it didn't surprise him in the least when he pivoted his head to face the blue-eyed old man leaning casually on his staff, observing Chad with a thoughtful expression.