Handir sat petrified beneath a constant gush of water that ran down his face, spluttering in his mouth where it met with his harsh breaths. He could no longer see the other boat, but he could hear distant shouts. His body lurched left, then right, and he tried to use his legs to jam himself in place. He could hear the wood beneath him sliding over rocks and wondered how long it would be before one of them split the boat in two.
A grey bulk loomed to Idernon’s left. “Brace for impact!” shouted the Wise Warrior.
“Brace!” Fel’annár’s strangled word came just before the painful jolt of wood impacting with stone. Talen flew upwards, out of the boat, and splashed into the water a distance off to the side. He was soon lost to sight as their boat yawed to the left, coming to lie flat against a gigantic bolder. The current rushed around them, holding them in some deathly embrace.
“Talen!” shouted Pan’assár. But there was no answer, and even if there had been, he would not have been able to hear it over the churning waters and the booming sky.
Idernon had just enough time to see the water as it snaked around the right lip of the boat, where Fel’annár, Handir and Pan’assár sat. “We’re capsizing!” he shouted. He and Ramien clung to their own side which began to rise out of the water. Pan’assár jumped towards him, meaning to lend his weight but Fel’annár lunged sideways, one hand finding the ropes that secured the chest to the boat, the other grappling in the water where he had seen Handir fall.
“Handir!” Pan’assár screamed, coughing.
“I have him!” called Fel’annár.
Idernon, Ramien and the commander leaned over the left side, desperate to counter the force of the water that was sucking them under the rock. If any of them moved, they would capsize. All they could do was crane their necks as below them Fel’annár, legs in the water, clutched at the ropes with one hand, while the other bunched at Handir’s collar.
“Handir. Reach for me. Get a hold!”
“What’s happening. Fel’annár?” Pan’assár’s frantic call between dry hacking.
“He’s in the water! Can’t get his arms up. The backwash … too powerful. He’s going to drown …”
“I need rope!” shouted the commander. “Idernon, can you reach it?”
It was close. There were two lines which Talen had tied to the iron ring before they left, just where Handir had been sitting. Idernon reached out, fingers brushing over the sodden fibres, but the boat tilted and he pulled his hand back in alarm. He caught Pan’assár’s gaze.
“Handir. Bring your arm out of the water. Bring it up. Find something to hold!”
Only Fel’annár heard the sounds of water muffling speech. He didn’t need to hear the words, though; he could see for himself that the current which had wedged them up against the rock was too strong. It had found a route around the boat, around Handir’s body, and held him in a powerful vice he could not escape from. He could not even raise his hand.
“Reach!” Fel’annár’s panicked voice called as he pulled with all his might. But his own legs were in the water, sucking him downwards, shoulder screaming at him to let go of the prince. They couldn’t reach the ropes without tipping the balance and capsizing.
“Ramien. Hold on to the safety ropes and climb over the side. We have to right ourselves.” Idernon’s eyes shot to Pan’assár, and then to Ramien, who was already tucking his hands between the ropes and the wood, pulling himself upwards as gently as he could. The boat tilted even further. Fel’annár shouted, but then the Wall of Stone made it over the side, his legs in the water. He leaned back as far as he dared, and felt the boat right itself only marginally.
Handir’s head was barely above the water. The current buffeted his face from all sides, and Fel’annár knew he had to act now lest the prince drown right before him. But he couldn’t move. He was trapped, held down by the backwash. Handir was going to drown.
“Fel’annár?” Pan’assár couldn’t see them, but Idernon could.
“Hwindo. Don’t let go. I’m coming.”
Idernon moved his left hand, reaching for Fel’annár, for anything he might latch on to. A cape, even hair, something to anchor his friend. The boat rocked, and he froze, turning to Pan’assár once more. But all he saw was the face of fear, and for the first time, there were no orders, no ideas.
Idernon reached out again, questing fingers feeling the wooden chest, further down the ropes, and then flesh—a hand. Just a little further …
The boat lurched, and Fel’annár’s head shot to Idernon, eyes turning from fear to realisation. Handir was under the water. If he couldn’t pull him up, he had to let go of the boat. The prince would not survive in the river and he himself had little chance—but together, however remote …
One last glance at Idernon above him, and he released his grip on the ropes.
Idernon screamed to the thundering heavens.
“No! Hwindo no!”
“Handir!” Pan’assár’s cry was raw, dread from his very soul given voice for only the second time in his life. With the weight of two suddenly gone, the boat almost righted itself, enough to escape the backwash.
With burning eyes, Idernon turned to where Ramien was pulling himself over the side. Pan’assár was beside him, helping him. A sopping Ramien rolled over, spluttering as he took hold of one of the two paddles that were still attached to the boat. They slipped into the current, wordless, speechless, until they were once more hurtling down the canyon, Pan’assár at the stern, Idernon and Ramien on either side at the oars.
“I want everything you have! Idernon, Ramien. The crown requires all that you are. Show me your worth and row. We find our princes, bring them back. By my oath we bring them back. Row hard!”
Pan’assár was pure fury as he led them on, was as angry as Idernon himself. They had lost Handir, lost Fel’annár, had not saved them, and ultimately, Idernon knew it had been he who had tipped the boat. Pan’assár, likewise, knew it had been his decision that had brought them to this moment. Yet still, he guided them through the gullies and around boulders as best he could, but they could hardly see through the spray and the foaming water, the churning eddies. They no longer knew where the other boat was, or even whether it was still afloat.
How could they possibly distinguish two silver-haired elves in this? How could they possibly survive it? Still, they strained their eyes as they battled the white waters and their own mounting panic.
Fel’annár was needed if the Restoration was to ever have a chance. And Idernon knew that without his childhood friend, his brother, his own life would lose its purpose. No. He would not lose Fel’annár. The Company stayed together. Wherever one went, the others would follow, even to Valley.
He would find Fel’annár and drag him to safety before it was too late. Before they reached Horizon Falls.
Fel’annár hurtled down the river, Handir in his clutch and flailing at his side. He angled them onto their backs, but it was not easy. Handir fought to keep his head forwards, an instinct he knew. But Fel’annár remembered their guide’s warning. Feet first would help to push away from obstacles, and there were plenty of those.