Iylaine is taken out

As soon as the hand had closed over her arm she could breathe, but it took further floundering for Iylaine to realize that she was yet underwater and then to find the air.

Now her head was above the surface, and still he would not let go.

Behind her, perilously close to her, she heard the sounds of a great struggle: shouts and snarls, flailing splashes, limbs being ripped free from the dragging clutch of the water, and the crash of the water falling into the empty spaces they left behind.

Before her was a great stillness, broken only by the tinkling of the water that dripped from the outstretched arm of the man who held her with his other.

At the sight of his face, a vague and sinister familiarity awoke in her, stirring like a fish that swam in deep waters of resentment, down where she never allowed the sun to shine.

For a moment she believed he could see it even in the dark. His night-​​blue eyes were wide with horror. But he cringed just before another crash of water wet the back of her head, and she realized he was watching the others.

“You come! You come! You go!” he cried and tugged on her arm.

“No!” She tried to resist, but her feet did not even touch the bottom.

He shouted some desperate, sobbing phrase in a language she did not understand, and then she knew him for an elf.

The stranger behind her bellowed half of a reply before Vash slammed his head down into the water. Iylaine felt a powerful hand shove her into the arms of the elf.

The elf sprang away with her, leaping through the water like a frog. They had reached the bank before she could struggle, and then he was pushing her onto the land.

“You go! I come!” he sobbed. “Pol!”

The splashing behind her had nearly ceased. There were only the rumbling gurgles of limbs skimming just below the surface of the water.

She turned for a last look as the elf pulled her away from the pool. She never saw the stranger’s face. The Vash who was not Vash was holding it down in the water.