They could get away from the castle.
“You’re brilliant!” Elea breathed. “But how do we move the vent? It’s made out of iron, and I barely have the strength to stand.”
Her grandmother knelt down. “I prepared for this escape years ago.”
She put both hands on the metal grate, and instead of pulling it up, she moved it to the side. It slid underneath the stone with a scraping sound. Grandmother held out her wrinkled hand to Elea.
“Quick, down the vent before they come back.”
Elea swallowed. Her mouth tasted like dried blood. She took her grandmother’s hand and sat, swinging her legs into the hole before jumping down it. Her knees buckled underneath her and she fell on her backside. The smell of sewage was overwhelming up close. Elea tried to cover her nose, but then she saw her grandmother’s boots. She scooted out of the way, but the sewer water splashed on her face. Elea gagged and sputtered. Her grandmother landed on her feet and reached up to pull the grate back into place. The sewer tunnel was only five feet tall, so she stooped above Elea.
Grandmother took a few steps, then glanced over her shoulder at Elea. “Quickly. This is the way.”
Elea crawled before she could get to her feet. She stood up too fast and her head hit the stone ceiling.
“Seven purgatories!”
Her grandmother did not say anything about her curse but continued to amble through the water and sewage in the small tunnel. It twisted and turned before it ended with another crisscross grate where the castle met the Dark Channel. Elea could see the sun. The water. The waves. The boats bobbing up and down on the nearby dock.
A sob caught in Elea’s throat. They were still trapped. “I don’t want to die.”
“They haven’t caught us yet.”
Grandmother took her hand and pulled her back up the tunnel and down another dark turn. This passageway was smaller and smellier than the others they had been through. Her grandmother let go of her hand and dropped to her hands and knees to crawl through the sewer water. Elea followed her. They turned twice more, and it was so dark that she could not even see her grandmother in front of her. She could only hear the sound of her splashing through the water.
Then Elea saw a bit of light at the end of the tunnel. They crawled closer to it, but the tunnel grew smaller and smaller until Elea was no longer on her knees but lying flat on her stomach and crawling on her sore elbows. Grandmother reached the opening and pulled herself through. Elea heard a splash.
Her grandmother had escaped.
Elea continued to inch slowly forward, dragging her bleeding and battered body over the rough sewer floor. At last, she reached the opening and put her arms through it. She grabbed the sides and tried to pull her shoulders through, but they were too broad. She was bigger in frame than her grandmother.
Elea was stuck in the opening. Her head out and her body in.
She glanced down and saw her grandmother floating in the water, silently beckoning her forward with a wave of her hand. Above the ripple of the waves, Elea heard the sound of shouting. Laird Lochdon knew they’d escaped. The soldiers would be roving the outside of the castle. The docks. They were out of time.
She was exposed.
Elea closed her eyes and prayed. Then she shimmied one of her arms back into the tunnel and underneath her body. With her other arm, she pulled her body out at an angle. One shoulder out. The second shoulder was still stuck. Elea twisted and pulled. She felt her arm socket jerk and she fell out into the water headfirst.
With one hand, she paddled back to the surface. Her other arm hung limply. Useless. The sounds of shouting grew closer. Elea took a deep breath, then dove back under the water and swam with only one arm in the direction of her grandmother. She followed her white hair away from the castle and the docks. Deeper into the ocean.
Elea struggled to keep up with her grandmother, having only one arm to swim with. It was hard enough to keep her head above the water. The waves kept sweeping her back toward the village. Toward her wicked uncle, who planned to burn her alive.
“We need to get back to land,” Elea sputtered, desperately paddling with only one arm. “I can’t swim much longer.”
“There will be patrols along the coastline,” Grandmother called back to her. “If we go back, we will be caught.”
Elea sunk beneath the water and kicked her legs frantically. She felt her grandmother’s arm around her neck, pulling her back to the surface. She gasped for air. Grandmother’s hand moved underneath her sore arm.
She cried out in pain. “I think it’s broken.”
“No,” her grandmother said, shaking her head in the water. “Your arm is out of its socket. I can fix it when we get to land. Relax and I’ll swim for both of us.”
Elea tried to hold as still as possible. She watched as the castle grew smaller and smaller. Her grandmother was taking them far out into the Dark Channel. Farther than Elea had ever swam before. They were getting close to the black fog that gave the water its name.
But not close enough.
The white sail of a fishing boat was gaining on them. Elea took a deep breath and the smell was worse than the sewer. It was the foulest scent she’d ever experienced. The man on this boat meant them harm. She twisted out of her grandmother’s hold, dog-paddling with only one arm.