Seth in the bottle

  Seth could hardly think. He could hear nothing. He could smell nothing. All he saw was muted grayness, which almost seemed more like oblivion than pure blackness would have. When he tried to move, there was no physical response, no sensation, as if all his nerves had been disconnected.

  Time had lost all meaning. His sense of self had begun to diminish. His mind seemed sluggish, half asleep. He did not dream, but when he focused, he could remember.

  He remembered looking down at the arrowhead, remembered the horror on Kendra's face. He remembered feeling angry. What a cheap shot! Right in the back! Taking a few steps had proved that he was useless, dying.

  He had instantly thought about the gaseous potion. The concoction wouldn't heal the injury, but it would put him in hibernation, prevent the wound from worsening. In the meantime, he wouldn't be a burden. They could fight without having to drag him around, perhaps killing him and themselves in the process. He recalled thinking that if his friends could somehow win the battle, maybe they could rescue him later.

  Seth remembered giving Kendra his emergency kit. That was important. The tower was inside, and the leviathan, and some other less precious items he didn't want to hand over to the enemy if he were killed or captured.

  After becoming gaseous, he had moved slowly, drifting in whatever direction he chose. Having lost the ability of speech, he had watched wordlessly as Kendra used the Translocator to escape with Trask and Elise. He had watched the magician send chains after the others as zombies crowded into the room.

  Then Trask had returned, trying to help Tanu, and, without warning, Seth had felt effervescent rushes of bubbles tingling through his wispy body. That was when the grayness had overtaken him and most physical sensations had ended.

  Had his mind been separated from his body? Somehow stolen out of the gas? It felt that way. It was tough to focus on the present. There was nothing to focus on.

  He caught himself slipping into trances. It was hard to say for how long. Whenever his mind kicked back into gear, becoming self-aware instead of coasting, he would fight the emptiness with memories, people he knew, places he had been, fun things he had done. Anything to keep his mind from shutting down and merging with the nothingness.

  Thanks to his addled state, Seth could not say how long he had been adrift in gray oblivion when sensation returned in a rush. There came a sense of motion, of tiny bubbles coursing through him, and then he was flesh and blood again, lying on his side on a plush rug, his chest aflame with agony.

Chapter 6