Snake Heart (Chains of Honor #2) -Lindsay Buroker Page 0,35

he could further assess it, Dak shoved him through the hatchway. He entered a tiny, water-filled... closet. He was sure that there was no Nurian term for whatever the Turgonians and Kyattese called it. There was another hatch on the inner side, but it was closed.

Dak pressed a gloved hand to Yanko’s chest and held up his hand in a stay-there motion. Then he disappeared, pushing off the bottom and leaving bubbles behind.

Yanko stared after him for a moment. He must be going to get Lakeo. Yanko understood that, but his lungs were already demanding air. How long was he supposed to wait? He turned toward the inner hatch, which presumably led into the underwater boat, and tried to turn the circular handle. It did not budge.

For the first time, fear trickled into him, making his heart beat faster, harder. Was he using more of what little air he had left? He tried the hatch again. Still, it didn’t move. He tried knocking on it, as if there were someone inside who might answer. To his surprise, someone knocked back. He reached out with his mind. Arayevo? Yes, it was her. She was right on the other side of the hatch. He knocked back. Why wouldn’t she open it and let him in? He tried to brush her mind, to suggest that opening the hatch would be a very good thing. By now, his lungs were screaming for air, and panic had him thinking about pushing out of the tiny chamber and swimming to the surface as quickly as he could. He didn’t even care if the pirates were waiting to shoot him.

A hesitant, uncertain feeling came to him from Arayevo. He knocked again, silently pleading with her. Just as he was certain he could hold his breath no longer, a shadow fell across the doorway. Lakeo was pushed into the space with Yanko, mashing him against the wall. Dak with his big helmet came in behind him, cramming into a spot that surely was meant for one person, not three. He shut the outer hatch behind them, plunging them into darkness. Sheer terror filled Yanko, and he wanted to thrash, to find a way out, but his arms were pinned.

A clank sounded, then a whooshing sound. A trickling followed it, like water draining into the pipes under a shower. Yanko closed his eyes, trying to find some meditative state that would let him control his lungs. He could feel them on the verge of gasping, even though his brain knew that nothing but water surrounded him.

The coolness of air touched the top of his head. He did not understand what was happening, but he jumped up, trying to find that air. His lips broke the surface at the same time as his head cracked the top of the strange closet. He couldn’t see anything, but he knew air when he felt it against his damp skin. He tilted his head back so that his lips broke the surface and sucked in a deep breath. There could not have been more than four inches of air, but it was enough. He inhaled long and deep.

A sputter and a cough came from beside him.

“Lakeo?” he rasped.

“Who else do you think is jammed into this coffin with you?” she demanded between coughs and gasps.

“Isn’t Dak the one smashing you into me?”

“Yeah, but he’s got a fishbowl on his head. I don’t think he needs air.”

Was that what the helmet did? Yanko had never heard of such a thing.

“Just when you thought Turgonians couldn’t get any uglier,” Lakeo went on. “I thought some kind of bulbous squid monster had grabbed me.”

“Ugly? Didn’t you once say he was handsome from the lips down?”

Lakeo snorted. “Maybe. Do you think he can hear with his fishbowl on?”

The water level was falling quickly, and Yanko could now stand on the deck with his head out of the water. He assumed Dak’s head was above the surface. As tall as he was, he probably had to hunch to fit into the tiny chamber.

“Probably,” Yanko said, “but I’m sure he already knows about his attributes.”

“Wonderful.”

Whether Dak could hear them or not, he did not speak as the water continued to drain out. Finally, only Yanko’s feet remained under the water. It was a good thing his sandals had a strap that fastened around his ankle, or he would have lost another pair of footwear during this crazy night. Given the cramped confines of the cubicle, he felt relieved that