Chapter 49
The following morning, we stood in front of five hundred and seventy-two Nerithians.
Alma’s voice was loud and strong as she explained to her people that there was another possible way—hope.
Her words set off an asynchronous mixture of people crying, cheering, mumbling, and swearing.
Others just shook their heads and went on with whatever they were doing.
I respected Marshen’s request not to tell anyone about his execution order.
So instead, we asked for this early public meeting to both explain our intentions and subtly persuade them.
Yet despite my wholehearted and practiced speech, none volunteered to sail with us into the uncertain.
Marshen was right, hope had repeatedly let these people down, leaving them demoralised and wary.
I couldn’t blame them. But in desperation, I all but begged, asking them to join us so that they would serve as proof for King Ryvar.
I only made things worse.
Marshen and I found ourselves in front of a total of four people—Alma, Blake, and the two craftsmen.
“I’m sorry, Marsh, it looks like it’s going to be just you and me.”
“I still can’t understand why I can’t come,” Blake complained, but my stare remained on Marshen. The apprehensive look I gave him came with unspoken words. I hope that King Ryvar will render my presence just as acceptable. But the blabbermouth blabbered.
“I’m sure Lord Aegir’s lady will do just fine.” He even had the audacity to wink at me. I wanted to slice his throat open as I felt Alma stiffen at my side. Blake, too, fixed his eyes on me.
I shifted my gaze towards Ronn and Fenric—the craftsmen. “Did you get what I asked?”
They nodded. “We did,” Fenric assured me.
“Good. Let’s go.”
Blake reluctantly waved at us as we started our journey south.
“So, are you going to tell me this grand plan of yours?” Marshen asked, moving his horse—a beautiful brown stallion—close to my mare…Not my mare.
“You’ll see. But we’ll sail along the Brim, go through the Unnar Caves, then travel north towards Silch. We’ll have to pass through Ramel, Jebel, and Sijar first, of course.”
“Of course. But let’s say the caves truly exist, wouldn’t it make more sense to go to Ramel first? To inform Aegir? He is in Sharlam, right?”
“No. We’ll go to Silch and tell King Ryvar ourselves.”
“But wouldn’t it be easier to—”
“No. We’ll leave that as our last resort. You said your end of the bargain with King Ryvar entailed your return to Silch, so that’s what we’ll do.” I lowered my voice. “I know I’m Rameli, but you know, with my…relationship with his brother, as you openly disclosed, I should do just fine.”
I wasn’t going to tell Marshen that Aegir was behind guarded doors, indisposed, engaging in a conceiving ritual with a Belzari princess. And to explain the reason for the confidential arrangement…
“What is it, then?” he asked.
“What’s what?”
“The last resort.”
“If—if I don’t make it, do not return to Silch on your own. Just make sure to find my body, then go to the Sand Castle to find Aegir.”
“You’re fucking unhinged, you know that? Expecting me to return to Aegir with your dead body. I would be just as dead.” He let out half a hysterical laugh.
“No, don’t bother with my body. I—I borrowed some things of his, all right.
I carry them with me. If I die, I want you to take those things to Sharlam, to bargain with Aegir.
Be careful about your choice of words…make sure you get your freedom.
” If Aegir—a vengeful male—thought that Marshen didn’t deserve to die for his actions, then he mustn’t have committed something beyond forgiveness.
“Fucking unhinged,” Marshen murmured, shaking his head. “And I only wonder, what does that make me? Since I am now officially Team Crazy Lady.”
“Crazy Lady led you to what you sought.”
“Hmm. And what about you? Did you find what you came seeking?”
His question felt like a knife piercing my chest. No, I didn’t, and he knew that very well. I asked everyone in the village, I searched every corner of the hut. Nothing.
Perhaps it was foolish of me to follow the words of the Seer.
Someone whom I didn’t trust, someone who lied to me and tried to trick me.
Perhaps I should’ve followed the words of Selmira, a trustworthy woman whom I loved dearly.
But it was my foolishness that led me to these people and so I had another purpose now.
To help them. Once that was ensured, I would do as Selmira suggested.
I would return to Sharlam and demand more information from stableman Martin.
Perhaps he had lied to me when I was only fifteen.
The man who brought me to the orphanage and kept that truth hidden from me until the day I was encouraged to leave.
There must have been some reason why he did that.
Alma closed in behind us. “I’m sorry no one volunteered. I hope you two can understand. But as I’ve said, none of us want to risk going on another deadly sail. Too many, Delia. We’ve lost too many.”
“We understand. Nobody is forced to come,” I assured her, despite wishing that at least one person had joined.
“Well, I hope that you two will journey safely. May Thalassa guide you all the way north.”
“I hope so, too.”
“My dear Alma, may I ask why you want to be found so badly, knowing that you cannot return to your own Land?” Marshen asked.
She took her time before replying. “Before, it was because of guilt. Guilt for abandoning our people. Blake called us cowards on several occasions, but he was only five when it happened. I only thought of protecting him, nothing else. Deep down, I knew he was right. That we should’ve stayed and fought alongside Silch.
Turned out, we made the right choice to cower, now that we know about the peace treaty.
” She said the last two words as if they tasted bitter on her tongue.
But then her voice softened. “But we mostly just want to return to our loved ones. It doesn’t matter where my feet rest in Lyrantheia, as long as I’m reunited with him. ”
“Have hope, Alma,” I murmured.
“It somehow hurts more, you know? Not knowing if he is dead or alive.”
Oh, I knew what not knowing does to you—I was the queen of it. “Well, I truly hope that he’s all right, and that you three will be reunited,” I told her, and I meant it.
“I hope so, too,” she whispered, wiping away a tear.
Alma told us that around thirty boats had been built over the years. Yet when we arrived, hidden—protected in nearby caves and sheltered beneath palm leaf curtains—there was a total of three wooden boats. My heart ached. No wonder they gave up. All that work, all that hope, all that despair.
Two of the boats were undoubtedly in a very poor state, but the other one, the most recently built, was, to my pleasure, in relatively good shape. At least that’s what the craftsmen assured me.
Marshen helped Ronn and Fenric move the boat out onto the shore, using wooden beams and logs. I walked along its side, my fingertips brushing the ghost of its ink. I could still make out its name—Mercy.
“The two young men who ventured on this one named it so, saying it was the only thing they asked of Thalassa. Mercy,” Fenric commented. “Here,” he said, extending his arms towards me. “It’s made from rust and oil.”
I accepted the makeshift paintbrush and the reddish-brown paint. I took my time, meticulously tracing each cursive letter, asking Thalassa for the same thing. Mercy. Just as I had asked of her before leaping into the Depths.
Ronn and Fenric were engrossed in a thorough inspection, but after a series of minor adjustments and upgrades, both craftsmen deemed it safe to sail, or rather, to tow.
Ronn and Fenric brought out the towline that I had asked them to make on the eve of our departure.
No wonder they looked exhausted. I deprived them of one full night of sleep.
But they didn’t once complain. They simply carried on without reluctance.
I specified that the towline had to be strong enough to withstand the razor-sharp teeth of a great white. Ronn told me they’d made it from iron chains and bark strips, assuring me of its durability.
I was carrying our supplies onto the boat when Marshen approached. “So this is your grand plan, huh? I will be towing you along the Brim.”
“So you’ve figured it out.”
“Well, watching these two attach a tow chain kind of gives it away,” Marshen said, motioning his head.
“I guess it does. Help me with those, will you? It’ll be dark soon.”
Salty wind swept across the golden shore, nipping at my sun-kissed cheeks. I looked out at the horizon.
Marshen and Alma approached. Alma raised her arms and held us both by our shoulders.
“Are you two ready?” she asked, her eyes gleaming.
“Shit,” Marshen mumbled.
I raised a confused brow at him, noticing that his attention was fixed on Alma. I only understood when the sound of thumping hooves swelled around us, drawing our attention.
“No!” Alma shouted.
“Wait for me! I’m coming with you!”
“No, Blake! You are not!” Alma cried out, striding towards the charging horse. I gasped, reaching uselessly for her, unlike Marshen, whose arms shot around her waist, pulling her back just in time. “I can’t let you go. I’ve lost enough!”
“I am a Briartide!” Blake bellowed. “I shall sail with them and tell King Ryvar myself, that we, the Water Wielders, Nymphs, and humans have been patiently waiting for his aid.”
Briartide!? But that means…
My breath caught at the realisation.
When Alma had said that her husband came from a powerful family, my mind leapt to exceptional Water Wielding skills, not royal bloodlines. I certainly hadn’t imagined him being kin to Queen Mirana.
I ignored Marshen’s gaping jaw and lifted my chin, squaring my shoulders.
“Briartide, a word,” I said, gesturing with my head.
Blake dismounted and fell into step at my side, our footsteps crunching along the sandy shore.
I turned his way and grabbed hold of his shoulders.
“Listen to me, Blake, you know how much your mother misses your father. How she thinks about him every day, worrying, wondering, if he’s all right.
I don’t think she can take any more of that, and I think you know that, too.
For now, your life mission is going to be protecting her, protecting them.
You need to be on your guard, ready to defend them if the Naaris come, just like we discussed yesterday.
But I promise you this, when the day comes that I’ll be going on another deadly mission, I’ll make sure to let you know first.” I expected him to argue with me, but to my surprise, he nodded, looking away.
When he lifted his gaze, his eyes seemed haunted.
“Delia, my father, Norrin…Norrin Briartide, please ask for him.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Thank you. May Thalassa, wherever she is, protect you both.”
“May she protect you, too. All of you.”
Alma stood between us once more. She hugged Marshen first. “You take care of her, all right?”
“Oh, I have to,” Marshen said. “Otherwise I’ll be kshh.” The hissing sound he made came with a slicing thumb that moved along his throat. “You get what I mean? Her boyfr—”
“Just get in the godsdamned water and shift,” I barked at Marshen.
“Are you sure you don’t want to let him go on his own? He can easily swim,” Alma said, looking at me as if I’d missed the most obvious reasoning.
“I’m sure. I need to do this…I have to.”
Alma nodded, and I glimpsed some sort of understanding in her eyes.
“Goodbye for now, my dearest Alma. Blake,” Marshen said, bowing his head before shifting into a great white.
“Whoa,” Blake murmured, his wide chestnut eyes mirroring his mother’s.
Alma’s hug squeezed the air right out of my lungs. My necklace pressed so firmly against my breastbone, I was sure it would leave an imprint on my skin. When she let go of me, her watery eyes searched mine. Her lips wobbled.
“Hey, it’s all right. I promise you we’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I know that,” she replied, pressing her palm against my cheek. “Take care of each other. May Thalassa protect you both.”
And as Mercy drifted out and away into the mist, I watched Alma drop to her knees, arms slack at her sides. Blake rested his hand on her shoulder, comforting her.
And as the image before me disappeared beyond the fog, I understood who I was to her, to them. Hope. Marshen and I were their only hope.
I could not fail her. I could not fail them.