“Let’s get going.”
The two oracles walked into the column. As usual, Sapphira’s vision sharpened, enabling her to distinguish the tiniest slivers of radiant energy as they swirled around her head. Fighting the sadness, she grasped a stream of light and pulled. Instantly, the cavern dissolved, and they zoomed upward. A heavy, wet wind buffeted their heads. Sapphira pulled out her cross and shouted through the gusts. “Ignite!” Wind-beaten flames covered the cross and sizzled in the moisture-laden air.
Suddenly, they blasted through the surface of the swamp. Flying upward within a spewing cylindrical geyser, Sapphira wriggled around to get her bearings. The swamp lay about twenty feet below, and she and Acacia were still soaring higher, though their acceleration seemed to be slowing.
Acacia readied her scroll. “Flying is pretty cool,” she said with a deadpan tone, “but I think we’re going to fall now.”
The two girls linked arms and plummeted toward the water. Sapphira pointed her cross downward and shouted, “Give me all you’ve got!”
A narrow fountain of flames roared from the cross and sizzled into the swamp, creating a thrust that slowed their plunge. Erupting from the water’s surface, a dense column of steam struck Sapphira’s buttocks, soaking her jeans with scalding moisture.
Sapphira and Acacia splashed into the swamp and immediately lunged toward shore through its scummy, waist-deep water. “Hurry!” Sapphira yelled, holding her still-flaming cross high.
Acacia trudged at her side with the scroll clenched in her fist. Behind them, the water began to stir. Serpentine scales broke the surface and glinted in the sunlight.
Sapphira slogged through the muddy bottom. Every step seemed an eternity as they waded to thigh-deep, then knee-deep water. Finally, Sapphira began to sprint, but as she splashed toward shore, a horrible scream made her spin around. Close behind her, Acacia limped toward shore dragging a huge serpent that had latched on to her ankle. She fell to her knees and smacked its body with her scroll.
Snatching the scroll, Sapphira pounded the snake’s midsection. When it finally let go, she grabbed it by the tail and whipped it out into the swamp. Pushing her arms under Acacia’s shoulders, she heaved her sister onto dry land.
Acacia’s face twisted in pain. “My leg’s on fire!”
Sapphira brushed a strand of hair from Acacia’s forehead. “It’s the venom. I can see red lines crawling up your skin.”
“My heart!” Acacia gasped. “It’s jumping like crazy.”
Sapphira whispered for the cross to darken and laid it on Acacia’s chest. “Don’t die on me, now. Just hang on.”
Acacia’s voice fell to a whisper as she labored through convulsive breaths. “Morgan said . . . she has the only cure.”
“Morgan’s a liar!” Sapphira dug into her pocket and retrieved the fruit. “Maybe this will help.”
“But we said . . . we weren’t going to eat it unless . . . we were starving.”
“You’re not going to eat it.” Sapphira squeezed the fruit between her palms. Now that it was wet, it smashed easily into a thick, pasty poultice. She held the mash in her palm and picked up her cross again. “I’m going to rub this stuff in, but first, I’m going to open up the wound a bit more to make sure it gets into your bloodstream.”
“What makes you think . . . this will work?”
“It healed the rash on my palm, so I think it’s worth a try.” Bringing the cross near Acacia’s ankle, she whispered, “A small flame, please, right at the tip.” The top of the cross ignited with a conical flame. “Okay,” she said, looking back at Acacia. “This is really going to hurt.”
“Go ahead. It can’t hurt more than it already does.”
Sapphira pushed the tip of the fire into one of the puncture wounds on Acacia’s ankle.
“Aaaauuugh!” Acacia gritted her teeth. Her words barely punched through. “Okay . . . I was . . . wrong.”
“Shhh! The dog might show up.” The flame sliced a nearly bloodless gash, the heat cauterizing most of the vessels as they blistered open. With the wound now raw and gaping, Sapphira rubbed in the poultice, hoping she could massage it into Acacia’s bloodstream.
Her entire body trembling, Acacia bit her shirt and let out a muffled scream.
Sapphira grimaced. “I’m sorry. I have no idea if I’m doing this right. I’m no surgeon, you know.”
“No kidding.” Acacia shook even harder, but after a few seconds, her tremors subsided, and she let out a long sigh.
Sapphira kept her hand over the wound. Heat radiated through the mash and stung her palm. “Is it feeling better?”
“A little.