Ilbei Spadebreaker and the Harpy's Wild Read Online Free Page B

Meggins had just pulled the gray wineskin free. He held it aloft as he ran across the raft and leapt up the bank. He passed Jasper in doing so, the mage motionless as he regarded the scant half pace that separated him from land as if he were charged with leaping over the Great Sandfalls.
    Ilbei had no time for the mage’s hesitation. Any delay could mean Kaige’s life, so in he dove and down he swam, grateful to discover there were no terrible rocks down there against which he might be bashed.
    The current wasn’t swift, but there was a solid thirty spans from bank to bank. The water was clearer this far downriver, away from the convergence of the many creeks and lesser rivers that formed the Desertborn, and at least he could see through its hazy green transparency. By the time he was halfway across, he’d come even with where he’d seen Kaige grappling with the naiad. As the current carried him past, he could see the hole into which the naiad was dragging the youngster. Kaige was still putting up some fight, but not much. He’d been alert enough to hook his boots into some roots, preventing the water nymph from dragging him all the way in, but that seemed to be all he could maintain. He couldn’t possibly hold his breath much longer.
    Ilbei swam for all his might toward the opposite bank. The rope around his waist went taut and threatened to swing him back to the bank to which it was tied. He dove down and grabbed roots jutting out from the opposite side. They were slick as a snot-covered ice lance and extremely hard to hold, but desperation gave him claws. He pulled his way back upstream, one root at a time as if they were the twisting rungs of a submerged ladder. Finally, he got to where Kaige’s boots were. He came close enough to grab the soldier’s ankle. Planting his feet against the edge of the hole, Ilbei hauled with all his strength, drawing the soldier out like a great arrow from a muddy wound. Through the water, he could hear Kaige trying desperately not to breathe the river in, the anvil thumps of stifled gasps, his lungs pounding against his will with an insistent reflex. Ilbei grabbed him by the front of his pants and an ankle and lifted him upward, thrusting with short, powerful legs, driving for the surface and shoving him into the air.
    He saw the furious face of the naiad coming out at him as he did. She was beautiful beyond anything he’d ever seen, a pale blue figure of statuesque femininity with a face nearly divine. Her nose was narrow and dainty between two sea-green eyes. Her lips, though twisted into a silent snarl, promised a kiss that would finish a man on the spot. And yet, despite that promise, that lure, Ilbei did not lose his head. He blinked and turned away.
    He’d left his pickaxe, his weapon of choice, on the raft, but he had a sharp knife, which he drew and held poised to strike. His own breath was growing short, but he knew better than to rise up and offer the creature his feet while he breathed. Who would pull him out?
    “Back, shrew!” he called, but the words, submerged as they were, were drowned by the water coursing by.
    She did draw back—and stopped. He glanced over his shoulder and saw it. He also saw that her rage was gone, as if knocked loose by his threatening command and carried off by the currents. She looked as if she might cry.
    He watched the melting away of her anger, the softening of that beautiful face, her succulent mouth turned down at the corners and quivering a bit. It was heartbreaking. She was so sad. So beautiful. So tempting. Light dappled her soft blue skin, her breasts gently buoyant, all torment, taunt and promise. Ilbei wanted to apologize. To explain. He started toward her, his knife hand lowering, his free hand reaching out, but he was just old enough to realize his mistake. He caught her watching him. His own eyes narrowed, his lips curled in. With a quickness that belied the bowed nature of his legs, he pushed off from the bank, not up toward