A while ago my mouth had gone dry and I had drunk a little from my canteen and passed it to Ghastek.
“Do you always carry a canteen?”
“It’s force of habit.” You could survive many things as long as you had a canteen and a knife.
He had taken a swallow and passed it back. “What happens when we run out of water?”
“We drink this.” I’d nodded at the dark water flooding the shaft.
“It doesn’t seem clean, and even if it is, it won’t stay that way for long.”
“People dying of thirst can’t be choosers.”
We hung in the water.
“What did you do with Nataraja?” I asked.
Ghastek blinked, startled.
“I was always curious. He just kind of disappeared.”
Ghastek sighed.
“We’re not going anywhere for a while,” I told him.
He raised his gaze to the ceiling, pondered it, and shrugged. “Why not? Nataraja was always fond of hands-off management. I never understood why he was placed in charge in the first place. He looked impressive but had very little to do with the actual function of the office. I oversaw research and development, and Mulradin handled the financial aspects. A year ago Nataraja’s behavior became increasingly erratic. He wandered around, mumbling to himself. He killed that monstrosity he kept as a pet.”
“Wiggles? His giant snake?”
“Yes. A journeyman found sections of her strewn throughout the upper floor. A report was made to the main office. A high-ranking member of the Golden Legion arrived and conducted some interviews. Nataraja disappeared. We were told he was recalled.”
“Do you think he was recalled?”
Ghastek shrugged. “What’s the point of speculating? Mulradin and I were left jointly in charge of the office until either one of us ‘distinguished’ ourselves or a replacement was assigned. I suppose now the question of distinction is moot. He’s dead and I’m here.” He spat the last word.
Now he had gone to sleep. It was best I slept, too. I closed my eyes and imagined being on the beach with Curran. It was such a pleasant dream . . .
? ? ?
OUR CANTEEN HAD gone dry. It held enough water for over two days if carefully rationed, and we’d split it in half. We’d been imprisoned here for more than twenty-four hours. Probably closer to forty-eight. We had begun drinking the water around us and it didn’t sit so well in my stomach.
The water in the shaft had turned colder some hours ago. The temperature hadn’t actually changed, but water sapped body heat about twenty-five times faster than air. We’d been soaking long enough to really feel it.
I was starving. My stomach was a bottomless pit filled with ache. I’d kick myself for not gorging on something delicious while I was in the Keep that morning, but it would waste too much energy. I had to conserve every drop. Hang in the water. Last. Survive.
When the cold got to me, I untangled myself from my belt and swam. The exertion burned through what meager supplies of energy I had left, but it made me feel warmer. Until the shivering started again.
“We’re going to die here,” Ghastek said.
“No,” I told him.
“What makes you say that?”
“Curran will come for me.”
Ghastek laughed, a brittle sour sound. “You don’t even know where we are. We could be halfway across the country.”
“It doesn’t matter. He’ll come for me.” He would turn the planet inside out until he found me—and I’d do the same for him.
Ghastek shook his head.
“You have to will yourself to survive,” I told him.
He didn’t look at me.
“I’m not dying in this hole. Curran will come for me and we’ll get out of here. This isn’t how it ends. Hugh doesn’t get to win. We’ll survive this. One day I’m going to ram my broken sword right through his throat.”
Ghastek peered at me. His voice was hoarse. “Let me reiterate. We’ve been teleported to some unknown place probably thousands of miles away from everyone you know, possibly on another continent. The man who put us here likely teleported as well, taking the knowledge of our location with him, so nobody we know has even an infinitesimal idea of where we might be. We have no way to communicate with the outside world. Even if we could communicate by some magical means with those we know, we would be of no assistance, because we don’t know where we are. We’re floating in cold murky water.”
“It’s pretty warm, actually.”
He raised his finger. “I haven’t finished. We have no food. We have been here for at least forty-eight hours, because the hunger pangs I’m feeling are now less intense. Right now our bodies are burning through what meager fat reserves we have, which will result in severe ketosis, which in turn will lead to blood acidosis, bringing with it nausea and diarrhea. Soon faintness, weakness, and vertigo will follow. As our brains are deprived of the necessary nutrients, we’ll begin to hallucinate, and then we’ll suffer catastrophic organ damage, until finally we will die of cardiac arrest. It’s a brutal and torturous death. Mahatma Gandhi survived for twenty-one days when campaigning for India’s independence, but considering that we’re in the water and our bodies are going through nutrients at an accelerated rate, I give us two weeks, maximum.”
“If you ever decide on a career change, I’d avoid motivational speaking.”
“Don’t you understand? The only person who knows where we are is d’Ambray, and he put us here to slowly starve to death. Even if he changes his mind and decides to pull you out, since he has some strange fascination with you, he has no such relationship with me. I’m disposable. What few dealings I had with this man were abrupt to the point of rudeness. He clearly has no regard for me.”
“I promise you now that we went in here together and we’re leaving together. Curran will get me out and I won’t leave you behind.”
“To expect that Curran will somehow come and rescue you before we die is absurd.”
“You don’t know him like I do.”
“Kate! You are delusional!”
“This isn’t my first time trapped without food,” I said. “I used to have to do this frequently. We have water, which is a huge advantage. We’re not dead yet.”
He stared at me.
“I’ve survived the Arizona desert. I’ve survived in a forest scorched by fires. I’ve been starved, drowned, frozen, but I’m still here. The key to survival is to not give up. You have to fight for your life. You have to have hope. If you let go of hope, it’s over. Giving up is dying quietly with your hands bound in a hut where the man who tied you up threw you. Hope is kicking your way out and running ten miles across snow and forest against all odds.”
Ghastek blinked. “Did you actually do this?”
“Yes.”
“Who put you in the hut?”
“My father.”
Ghastek opened his mouth. “Why? What kind of a father does that to a child?”
“The only one I had. Don’t give up. Don’t let the troglodyte win, Ghastek.”
He shook his head.
His brain was too loud. He needed to stop thinking, because his mind kept running in circles, driving him deeper into despair. Despair was the kiss of death.
We needed to conserve energy, but if I didn’t distract him, he would fold on me. “You keep analyzing the situation and the more you dissect it, the more hopeless it seems. Try not to think about it. Talk to me instead.”