Blood in the Water

Chapter One

It was summer and I was twelve. The heat pressed in on all sides with no hint of a breeze, unbearable. The town was quiet as we walked through the streets, people choosing to stay in the relative cool of their houses rather than bake under the sun.

Twilla had been complaining all morning, as though we all didn’t know how hot it was. It was worse for us, I suppose. Our father was the town blacksmith, and his smithy was connected to our house. The heat that radiated off the forge could be felt through the brick walls. It sent waves through every inch of our home. In the winter it was blessedly warm. In the summer it was like living on the sun.

Finally, my father had had enough of Twilla’s whining. He told me to take her to the river. This, at least, cheered her up enough that when she opened her mouth, it was an endless stream of happy words that flowed out. This was also annoying, but not nearly as bad as her complaining.

There was a place just north of town where two smaller rivers joined to make the River Fime. The eastern stream was treacherous and rocky, but the western stream was smooth and fresh and cool. It was shaded by several tall standing trees with leafy branches, that thrived even in hot, dry months like these.

Twilla squealed, stripping off her skirts and her undergarments. She splashed naked into the cold water.

I was older, and less allowed to show such behaviour, as much as I would have liked to. Instead, I sat on the edge of the riverbank, took off my sandals, hiked up my skirts, and dangled my feet into the water, into a little eddy made by a rock jutting out of the water.

“Ilya!” said Twilla, her white skin flashing silver like a fish in the water. “Ilya play with me!”

I shook my head. “I’ll watch from here,” I said. “Papa doesn’t want you to get hurt.” There was little danger of this. Twilla lived for the water, and swam better than anyone I knew.

She sent a splash my way. I flinched, but enjoyed the cool water on my too-hot skin.

“Don’t splash your sister, Twill,” said a familiar voice. I turned and grinned at Vera, who sat down next to me and put her own feet in the water. “Blessed Ran and Silas that feels good,” she said, tilting her head back.

I narrowed my eyes at Vera.

“What? Am I not allowed to thank Ran for cold water on a hot day?” she said. She bent down so her long black hair touched the water and began combing the water into it.

“I don’t mind you thanking Ran or Silas,” I said, “but must you always sound so sarcastic when you do it?”

Vera laughed. “That’s how I always sound. They know where my heart lies.”

I shrugged and lay back on the grassy riverbank. It was too hot to argue, too hot to do much else but wish for rain. “How did you know we’d be here?”

“I saw you walking. I would have come with you but I was hanging up the sheets for Mama.” A troubled look crossed Vera’s face and she was silent for a moment. “There are so many things she can’t do now. I feel more like her nursemaid than her daughter.”

I didn’t know how to respond to this. I never did when Vera talked about her mother’s illness. I sat up and scooped water onto my chest and the back of my neck, letting the water trickle down into my dress.

There was a yelp from the water then and suddenly Twilla was crying, sobbing as she swam back to us. A trail of blood flowed out behind her. I stood, getting ready to pull her up onto the bank.

The blood flowed into the still water of the eddy, swirling there. It caught my eye and held it there for some reason I couldn’t figure out. I couldn’t break my gaze from it, couldn’t move. I stared at the blood, at the way it danced in the water. I forgot about the world around me. Even Twilla’s cries seemed to fade away. Then I heard it, the sound of blood pumping through my own body, under my skin.

It could have been a second that I was like this, or it could have been hours, days, or years. I was pulled to the blood in the water. It surrounded me. It was all I could see, and it formed shapes, images.

I saw our town during market one morning. A rider rode in, wearing the king’s crest on his sleeve. I couldn’t hear anything, but I saw another man I knew as Horace. He was drunk. He ran at the rider, waving his fists at him. The rider drew his sword and cut him down where he stood.

The image dissolved and reformed into a bedroom. Vera was sitting at her mother’s bedside. Her mother pressed something into her hand, but I couldn’t tell what it was except that it glinted in the candlelight. Vera held onto her mother’s hand and pressed her face into the bed. She was crying. The image dissolved again.

It reformed and I saw a mountain pass. It was snowing.

That’s all I saw. Vera jumped into the water, disturbing the image. She scooped Twilla up and placed her on the riverbank. “Ilya, by Silas, what’s the matter?” she asked me.

All I could do was stare at her, wide eyed. Then we both froze. There was a rumbling coming from the river.

“What’s that?” she asked me.

It was getting louder. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the river, then I lifted Twilla into my arms.

The rumbling was so loud I could feel the earth shake with it. I backed away from the river’s edge, clutching Twilla to me. Even she had gone quiet now.

The water rippled. There was something moving in the river. I could see it, a dark shape swimming upstream. The rumbling stopped. The creature had stopped moving.

It burst from the water so quickly I could barely see it, just a flash of black scales. It lunged for Vera, who managed to jump back just in time.

Vera screamed. She turned, leaving her shoes on the river’s edge and sprinting away.

The creature snapped after her once, then turned its gaze onto me. It was massive, twice my width, and at least twice my height – though there was more of it in the water that I couldn’t see. Its head was shaped like a lizard’s, with a snout and a frill on its neck, unlike a lizard though, it had no legs. Its eyes were what stopped me from moving. They were gold and fixed on me.

Twilla let out a whimper. The snake looked at her. It moved towards her, a forked tongue flicking out of its mouth.

I turned Twilla away from it, hissing and baring my teeth at the creature. It was as though something had taken hold of me for the second time that day, an animalistic instinct to protect what was mine. 

The snake looked at me. It cocked its head, holding my gaze. It opened its mouth, showing two long fangs. I hissed at it again, not looking away. It hissed, the frill on its neck fanning out.

I let out a snarl and took a step towards it. It closed its mouth, backing away from me. It cocked its head at me again, and flicked its tongue out. I let a growl rumble out of me. The snake danced back away from me, then turned and disappeared back into the water.

I let out a deep, shaky breath and was silent for a long moment, staring at the ripple the snake had left in the stream. It was gone. I almost collapsed as the adrenaline washed out of me. 

“Can you walk?” I asked Twilla.

“I think so,” she said. “With my shoes.”

I went back to the bank of the river and grabbed our sandals. Neither of us talked on the walk home. Twilla didn’t even complain about the heat.