Chapter 47
Robin knew it was too early for the glowing sky on the horizon to be the first light of dawn. But she watched it closely, foolishly hoping for the orange light to fade and spread into the cold purple array of the morning sun.
No, that was a fire.
Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.
She looked at Ulli without a word and ran down the mossy overlook toward the shoreline.
Robin knew she had no reason to rush. If something was wrong on the ships, then it would take nearly half an hour for anyone to make it back to the shore.
But she had to be there as quickly as possible to be the first to know what had happened.
She ran through the forest on the western side of the monastery. Movement at the gates told her that she was not the only one who had noticed the now-visible inferno on the horizon.
As the cliff softened into a bluff, she left the safety of the trees and made her way to the sandy shore. She continued to move away from the monastery, watching the waves.
The first rowboat appeared shortly after. Robin saw the shape bobbing over the waves, and her stomach fell. She knew something had gone wrong, but seeing the small boat, overflowing both inside and out, confirmed it.
She rushed into the waves, ignoring the stabbing pain of the icy water on her feet, and grabbed the nearest person, an exhausted young man who had been clinging to the side of the boat.
She wrapped her arm under his lower back and supported him, half dragging him to the dry sand. “What happened?” she asked.
“Fire,” the young Majis replied. “Ship sank.”
“The others?” Robin asked, the words leaving her mouth though she knew this man would have no answers.
“I do not know.”
She let him slide into the softer dry sand.
Ulli walked toward her, having gone back to the camp to summon Fletcher, Liam, Jette, and Rigelt.
“Build a fire,” Robin shouted, turning back to the waves to help the rest of the exhausted swimmers to shore.
Another rowboat appeared over the breaking waves. This one was just as full, with more clinging to the sides of the boat.
The ship would have had two rowboats, maybe three. Not nearly enough for the Majis onboard.
But Sol, Aizel, and Ian were strong swimmers. Nele and Lane, too. They would make it. It would just take them longer.
“The other ships?” Robin asked the next man she helped to the shore.
“Two burning,” he replied. “The third was still standing.”
Two ships burned. Robin looked back out over the waves. That would be so many people in the icy sea. She turned back to the shore, looking for Ulli. Someone should take the empty rowboats back out to look for survivors.
Fletcher was pulling a piece of driftwood toward the small group of Majis huddled together in the sand. Rigelt knelt next to them, a ball of light in his hands that Robin assumed was emitting some sort of warmth as everyone leaned toward it.
She turned back out to the sea. Ulli and Jette were splashing through the waves, pulling the two empty rowboats behind them. Good.
Her eyes scanned the horizon. It was too soon for the swimmers. She knew it would take them longer. But she wanted to see them. She wanted them to survive.
A buzzing sound filled her ears. She could not tell whether it was from the ceaseless battering of the waves against the shore or merely the pounding of blood inside her head. Perhaps it was both.
The cold, humid air pierced her lungs with every breath, igniting the fiery pain in her shoulder.
She turned south and started walking down the length of the beach again. The waves were pushing in that direction, and she knew from previous shipwreck rescues that the survivors and debris could wash up over quite a distance.
She found herself bending down to check each dark shape in the wet sand. Kelp. Splintered wood. If she saw nothing, her eyes returned to the ocean.
She turned around. It had been too long. The swimmers should have made it by now.
Movement up ahead caught her eye. A line of soldiers marched down from the monastery.
The early dawn sky finally began to change from black to purple, creating just enough light to see shapes in the water.
There.
A body rolled in with the waves. It was not Ian. But she did recognize that thin set of shoulders.
Robin rushed forward and rolled Nele over so her face was not in the sand. She still breathed, but barely. “Here!” Robin stood, shouting and waving her arms. Not caring if the incoming soldiers saw her.
Willa stood up ahead by the smoking attempt at a small campfire. She noticed Robin’s wave and ran down the sand toward her.
“Here,” Robin repeated, leading her to the exhausted Nele.
Another body stumbled toward them out of the waves.
“Lane!” Robin cried. She ran toward him, putting her arm around his waist to support him. She debated physically lifting him in her arms, but knew she would not be able to carry him across the difficult sand.
“Nele?” he rasped.
“She’s here,” Robin replied.
Up ahead, Willa had succeeded in getting Nele to her feet.
“What happened?” Robin asked.
“The ship burned,” Lane said. “Ian was the last one on board.”
Robin tightened her grip around the man’s waist, leading him toward the small fire.
“I can help,” Lane said, his voice barely audible through his cracked lips.
“Sit for a minute first,” Robin replied, knowing better than to argue with him.
He collapsed into the sand.
Willa deposited Nele next to him, and the two wet swimmers huddled together for warmth.
Robin turned back to the waves, looking for the next shape.
Willa joined her. “When did you get here?” Robin asked Willa. Last she had seen, the cook was still in Lockwood.
“A few hours ago,” Willa replied. “Ilida said she could handle porridge and stew for a few days and sent me to make sure you all were fed.” Willa looked back at the growing group of Majis at the fire. “Looks like she was right, as usual.”
Behind them, soldiers assembled across the beach, but Robin avoided looking directly at them. She had one focus, one goal. She would not let them stop her.
More shapes appeared in the water, coming in greater numbers now. Robin waded back out into the water, scanning every shape for a familiar person.
Willa, Liam, Rigelt, and several of the Majis themselves worked with her. Meeting the exhausted swimmers and helping them to the shore.
“Take this,” Willa said as Robin approached the fire with yet another Majis. “It’s warm.”
Robin accepted the leather flask and took a long drink of the burning liquid before handing it to the man she had just brought in.
The liquid tore at her throat, offering no comfort.
She looked back at the soldiers then. The Iseldan line stretched the full length of the beach. Five men deep, standing shoulder to shoulder in the growing light. Behind them, up on the bluff, the Chendas men were still falling into formation.
General Zimri stepped forward from the line to survey the water. He watched Liam and Rigelt walking more Majis in from the sea, but he made no move to stop them.
She had counted nearly three dozen Majis. If two ships had gone down, that would only be half of them. She moved further north, toward the cliffs and away from the soldiers.
This was not how it was supposed to happen. This was not the choice she had wanted to offer to the freed Majis.
Against the pinkish-blue sky she could still see the smoke from the burning ship, a long hazy cloud drifting south with the wind. Ian had gone out there with a plan. She had accounted for all the things that might go wrong. But she had not accounted for this.
She had not accounted for the pain in her chest that had nothing to do with the chaos magic wound that still festered there.
No new shapes appeared over the waves.
She needed to return to the Majis before the Zimri or Gautho chose to make a move. She could see them still, the soldiers lined up waiting.
But she did not want to turn her back to the sea. She did not want to stop watching.
This was all wrong. She should be the one missing in the waves.
She had never feared a world in which she gave everything during this final fight.
Ian would mourn for her, but he would take his father’s crown and continue on in the life that had been laid out for him.
He would attempt, in his own bumbling way, to make their kingdom a better place for every person within it.
That world was righteous. That was the world that could move forward. Not this one. Not this one.
Ian, you must come back to me! her heart sang out to the waves, even though her mouth was too numb to move. Her throat too dry to speak. Her lungs too pained to force out air. “I need you,” she managed to croak out, though the sound was lost to the waves.
Then she saw it, another dark shadow.