Chapter 71
Chapter
Seventy-One
S ix Weeks Later
The ship bobs on the water, the air disgustingly still and humid under the shelter at the far end of the ship. I’ve torn a few pages out of one of Nemeth’s books and fan myself with them, because sweating day and night makes me dehydrated and we’ve precious little extra water as it is. It rains often enough to fill the barrel we have on deck, but we keep that for drinking water.
I thought I loathed the tower, but it turns out I loathe the sea even more. Weeks of endless travel. Weeks of rolling waves and storms that shake our tiny craft. Weeks of everything tasting like saltwater. Weeks of raw fish for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Nemeth can spark fire with a spell, but without anything to burn, it’s not very useful.
“I can see the mountains,” Nemeth tells me as he lands on the front of our ship, making the entire thing sway in the water. “We should be there in a few hours.”
I sit up, lacing the top of my bodice in case some Fellian flies overhead. It gets so hot on the water that I try not to wear much, but if we’re going to land soon… “I never thought I’d be excited to see Darkfell’s borders, but after spending the last several weeks on a ship, I’m more than ready for land.” I glance over at my mate. “You don’t think they’ll treat us like the Alabaster Citadel, do you?”
Nemeth shakes his wings out, flicking away droplets of water, and then settles to a crouch next to me. “We’ll be welcomed. It’s different than with the citadel.”
Is it? I’m not so certain. We’d hoped the Alabaster Citadel would welcome us and give us food and supplies. Instead, they’d turned us away at the harbor, keeping the holy temple closed to us.
“Traitors,” the archbishop had cried, pointing a shaking finger in our direction. “It is your fault we have had two years of misery. It is your fault the goddess sends her wrath down upon us. You will receive no welcome here.”
They’d refused to let us leave the docks themselves, keeping us at bay with pitchforks and angry cries. It was only later, after we’d changed the sail’s spell and left the Alabaster Citadel that we were able to think properly about what we’d seen. That the men there had been of the clergy, and yet they’d been thin and dirty and unkempt. Whatever famine that was wrecking the land in Lios was no doubt wrecking the arid, desert lands of the Alabaster Citadel as well.
And their words had made no sense. “Two years?” I’d questioned Nemeth. “How can they blame us for two years? We left the tower less than a month ago.”
Nemeth had no answers, either. “Perhaps they’ve been hit by misfortune since the beginning of the war and we are an easy target to blame. We did leave the tower, after all.”
He’s not wrong…but must we be blamed for everything?
We’d sailed on from there, a tiny ship in the middle of an endless sea. We saw no other craft on the water, and when we ventured close to land, we saw no people, either.
And now we are nearing Darkfell and I am just as unsettled as the day we left the tower. I lean forward in my seat, fanning myself with the pages. “Do you ever wonder if the gods are playing tricks on us?”
“Tricks?” Nemeth asks, rotating one powerful arm as he regards me. “How so?”
I gesture at our surroundings. “That when we left the tower, we stepped into some upside-down world and that’s why nothing makes sense? Why everyone is gone?”
Nemeth eyes me. “How does it not make sense that they are gone? They lost the war. Or is it that part that is so inconceivable?”
I shake my head, because I don’t want to pick a fight with Nemeth. “You know that’s not it. It just feels so…odd. Like when we left the tower, we left our world behind, too. This doesn’t feel like our home. Not anymore.”
He takes my hand in his. “Your home will be with me, Candra, and mine with you. Don’t worry over things we cannot change.”
Easy for him to say. We’re sailing to his homeland because mine has been decimated. Still, I can’t help but wonder what the archbishop meant when he blamed us for two years of misfortune. The goddess is angry at us, of course, but surely we cannot be blamed for the time we were faithfully locked in the tower? That’s the part that gnaws at me and keeps me up at night.
That, and the endless swaying of our damned ship.
Nemeth lifts my hand to his lips, giving it a peck. “I’m going to scout some more. Do you need anything? How is the babe today?”
I put a hand on my rounded belly. Somewhere in the last month, it’s swollen to double its size. It makes sense that I would have a large belly given that Nemeth is rather gargantuan in stature, but it’s not comfortable, and I worry what I’m going to look like when I get closer to my due date. The baby is calm now at least and not kicking my bladder. “Sleeping, I think. And I’m good. Though if you see shore, look for berries?”
I’ve had the most ridiculous cravings for fruit recently. Never mind that there’s no food anywhere on Lios’s shores, and here I am asking for berries. But my mate gives me a wink, kisses my knuckles again, and then surges into the air with another powerful thrust of his legs. The boat rocks back and forth and I clutch at the side, steadying myself.
Nemeth’s flying has grown better during our travels. He’s constantly in the air, scouting or just looking for fish he can dive and catch. I imagine that now that he’s free of the tower, he has no desire to be tied down to our crappy little boat. I can’t blame him. If I could leave the boat behind myself, I would in a heartbeat. The damned thing leaks and every twitch makes it rock, and it’s just a wretched form of travel, especially for someone that can fly.
Sometimes I worry Nemeth will just fly away and abandon me. On my crankier days, when the baby’s kicking me and the smell of raw fish makes me want to punch something, I think I’d leave me behind, too. But he always comes back, and he’s always patient and gentle with me.
I sit up on the trunk that’s been my seat for the last six weeks, the trunk full of books and our meager supplies. I cast out my fishing line after baiting it with the head of a minnow and ease the line into the water. Might as well fish for my lunch. I eye the mountains that have been growing increasingly dominant on the horizon with every day that passes.
I’ve always known that Lios is a land of rolling hills and plains and that Darkfell’s people live under the mountains, but I’ve never really visualized the differences in the land until now. The Fellian continent looks as if it is hewn directly from rock, the cliffs steep and forbidding as the rock itself climbs so high that the clouds cover the tops. I can’t imagine how anyone can live here. There’s no place for a farm or for livestock on the outside, and it makes me wonder what the interior looks like.
I don’t tell Nemeth that I’m nervous. Of course I’m nervous. After seeing what’s left of Lios, it makes me wonder if my head will be on a pike before the next day. How do I know they won’t spear me with a dozen swords like they did Lionel? I abandoned my sacred duty in the tower, after all. Being Nemeth’s wife might not be enough to keep me safe.
My line tugs with a bite, and I jerk on it, trying to snag the fish. It goes still and I relax, gazing up at the forbidding, looming mountains once more.
Nemeth will protect me, I remind myself. You carry his child. He loves you.
A shadow soars overhead, and I shield my eyes, glancing up as Nemeth sails through the skies, his wings outstretched, his form as powerful as it is dark. He’s beautiful, and he looks at home here among the menacing, mountainous land. He’s growing in strength by the day, and I feel as if I’m…not weaker, but more dependent.
Is this how Ravendor felt when she left the tower? That everything she’d thought she knew felt different?
But Ravendor killed her mate, if the stories are to be believed. I don’t think I could ever harm Nemeth.
He soars overhead again and I wave at him, smiling brightly to hide my troubled thoughts.
Close to dark, Nemeth drops into the ship again, a worried expression on his face. “We’re close enough that someone should have come out to see us.”
He voices aloud one of my fears. I raise my hand to my brow, shielding my eyes as I gaze at the mountains. I’ve been sailing towards them all day and they look no closer, but I’ve also never traveled much. I have no idea how close or far away they’re supposed to look, nor do I have a clue if we should be seeing people. I don’t even see a beach, just endless craggy mountains right up to the edge of the sea. “All of Lios seemed to be deserted. Do you think the same has happened to your people?”
The thought makes my stomach clench uncomfortably. If there’s no safe haven for us here, either, what is left? There’s a flutter in my belly that reminds me that there’s more at stake than just myself and Nemeth—our child needs a home, too.
“I don’t know,” Nemeth tells me. “I want to keep scouting and see. Will you…will you be all right here?” He hesitates, clearly torn between protecting me and finding out what he can. “It’ll be dark soon and I don’t want you to be afraid.”
I gesture at the small boat. “Afraid of what? A rogue wave? A sea monster? I would think if sea monsters existed, they would have already dined on us.”
His hard mouth twitches with amusement. “There are no sea monsters on the shore. They’re in much deeper waters.”
“I hope for your sake that you’re joking,” I say tartly. Then I make a shooing motion at him. “Go and have a look around. I don’t mind. I’ll be fine here alone. You’ll be able to find the ship? Even in the dark?”
“Always.” He reaches for me and the craft sways and bobs on the water, making my gut lurch. I hold onto the sides of the boat, grimacing, and Nemeth spreads his wings to steady himself. “I am more than ready to get off this damned ship and hold my mate again.”
I’m a little surprised at his strong words. Nemeth is unfailingly cheerful when it comes to the boat, maybe because he knows how miserable it makes me. I’m glad I’m not the only one that’s tired of traveling…and more than ready to be in each other’s arms again. It’s been torture to be this close to him and not be able to sleep in his arms. We’ve just enough room to stretch out on the boat, but there’s been no more than a few furtive touches here and there, and far too few kisses. Everything is salty and damp and smells of raw fish. Every movement makes the boat sway. It’s not conducive to lovemaking, especially with Nemeth’s large form and my increasing belly. “Soon enough. The moment we get to your home, I’ll suck your cock dry and nibble on your knot for hours, and you can feast between my legs for days. We’ll be so unrepentantly amorous that people will think I’ve enchanted you with my evil Vestalin cunt.”
He doesn’t laugh at my joke.
Oh, by the gods. Surely the Fellians don’t truly think I have an evil enchanted cunt? What a pile of dragon shite.
“I won’t let anyone harm you, Candra. Do not worry over that. You’ve cast no spells on me.”
“I know that,” I sputter. My hands go to my belly, rounded with our child. “Don’t you think if I would have, it would be to travel in a less fishy environment? Or do you think I like waking up with salt in my hair and leaning my arse over the edge of the boat?”
This time, Nemeth’s somber expression breaks into a grin. “I will wash every grain of salt from your skin when we get home, I promise. You’ll see that Darkfell is pleasant and welcoming, for all that it is underground.”
Pleasant, maybe. Welcoming to one of the Vestalin name? I doubt it. But I’m out of options, and I won’t leave Nemeth. So I blow him a kiss to show him how I feel. “Go do your scouting before it gets much darker, love. I’ll be fine here.” I gesture at my line. “Don’t hold your hopes out for dinner, though. Nothing’s biting.”
“We’ll be home soon enough and you’ll dine on the finest Fellian feasts,” he tells me, a hint of excitement in his voice. “And I will return as quickly as I can. I swear it.” He rubs the spot on his hand where my bite is tattooed on his skin, and it’s as good as a kiss. With a wink to me, he launches himself into the air once more, and I cling to the edges of the damned rocking boat.
At this point, I’ll happily run straight through Darkfell’s doors if it means no more boats.
I catch nothing for dinner, and when the stars come out, I pull my line in and recline on my seat at the end of the boat, rubbing my rounded belly and gazing up at the stars. The golden moon is huge in the sky tonight, as if the goddess is watching everything we do with a judgment-filled gaze. The stars are pretty, though. You can see them a lot better from out here in the ocean than in the palace. I gaze up at the sea of twinkling lights and hope that if the Gray God and the Absent One are watching from above, they know we’re doing the best we can.
A shadow moves over the bright face of the moon. It’s brief, but I catch a glimpse of wings. “Nemeth?” I call out. “Any luck?”
Heavy cloth smacks into my face, covering me like a blanket. I squawk with indignation, because what a time for the sail to fall apart. In the next moment, a tight arm goes around my waist, and I’m dragged from the boat itself, claws digging into my skin.
I’m so surprised that I scream, only for a blow to land on the side of my head. “Quiet, human!”
That voice isn’t Nemeth’s. Dizzy, I flail, only for a heavy arm to push my limbs down. There’s a strange puff of air, and then I’m dropped a few feet onto what feels like a cold stone floor.
“Get up,” says a terrifying voice.
I don’t, though. Panting, my head spinning, I try to make sense of what just happened. The air feels different. Out on the ocean it’s humid and damp, even when it’s not raining, and there’s a hint of salt that permeates everything. I don’t smell salt now. The air is cold and dry, and when I press my hand to the floor underneath me, it’s hard and chilly.
The shadow. A hood over my head. The claws that dug into my waist.
That wasn’t Nemeth. Some other Fellian has kidnapped me.