Rogue Angel 47: River of Nightmares by Alex Archer Page A

reason, though unknown at the time. Fate or whatever was telling him that Annja would die on this trip, that the sword would be lost until it landed in the grip of yet another warrior. How many centuries would pass in the meantime?
    Annja was losing.
    She didn’t fear death...or rather she hadn’t until this point. Fear coursed through her now—as firmly rooted as the pain radiating from her leg. But there was no direction to the fear, her sense of terror chaotic and unfocused and all-consuming. How much longer would she suffer? When would the real blackness come? And was there something on the other side?
    The river was at the same time turbulent and caressing, and the caiman’s stumpy legs churned the water into a roar. What would it feel like, she wondered, when she came to the boundary of death, would oblivion be fragile or hard as stone?
    Annja didn’t want to find out—not here anyway, not now. Not in the Amazon and not to a hungry caiman that had already slaughtered too many people.
    She couldn’t quit just yet.
    Her lungs screamed for air as she jabbed the sword where she figured the beast’s jaws must be. She’d cut off her own leg in the process if she had to. One leg in exchange for her life? A fair price.
    Eyes wide open, the world was utterly black. What was it D’jok had told her about sight blocking her other senses? She listened, and thought she heard the caiman moan in pain.
    She couldn’t tell how far down below the surface it had pulled her, but she felt the pressure of the river against her ears.
    Her senses still achingly acute from the dreaming experience, she felt things brush her skin...plants, fish with tiny scales. Each touch was distinct and lingering. She felt the warmth of the blood that continued to pour from the wound on her leg. The captain’s words came to mind about the dangers of getting blood in the water and how it changes everything.
    Well, there was plenty of blood in the water now.
    Slicing her leg in the process, she managed to work the blade between the caiman’s jaws, and she heard it scream, an unnerving spine-jarring sound. She’d seriously hurt it this time. She jammed the blade in farther, pulled it back, then once more and—
    Freedom! The beast had released her!
    There was more blood—its blood mingling with hers, mingling with the river. She could smell it, feel it, the blood warmer than the water. And there was more movement, too, more fish with tiny scales brushing up against her, the caiman gyrating nearby. All these things she pictured as...
    The piranha! There are piranha down here! Not content with the bodies on the surface.
    “Watch your step,” the captain had advised.
    Everything changes.
    Everything had changed.
    Death is close to life.
    The sword floated away, her grip weakening. Her fingers fluttered, not finding the pommel, even when she concentrated and called for it. Instead, she found a swarm of biting fish. She kicked and tried to surface, but her injured leg wouldn’t work, and instead she felt herself sinking. She thrashed more violently, battering the piranhas. The bites became fewer.
    She sank deeper still and the biting stopped altogether. Likely the piranha were feasting on the caiman.
    Lightheaded, deprived of oxygen, and her lungs on fire, Annja fought to stay alive. But the weight of the river pressed down on her.
    Again she called for her sword, but couldn’t even sense its presence. Was she at the boundary of death? Was she about to discover whether the border of oblivion was fragile or hard as stone?
    Would Joan of Arc be waiting to greet her?
    Charlemagne?
    “Be well, Annja.” Roux’s voice a memory that flickered.
    Holding the last trace of air inside, she gripped a rocky ledge and frantically pulled herself up.
    She crawled toward what she guessed was a cave. Please let there be air to quench the fire in my chest, she thought.
    Joan had died in fire.
    There was light ahead and she was getting closer to it; in desperation,