Chapter Forty Thera
CHAPTER FORTY
Thera
The morning Lynnea returned, Thera woke with the signature ache between her ears that only resulted from excess indulgence in liquor.
For a moment, she suffered an instant of panic as an unfamiliar deck swam into view then recalled that she had accepted Veilwald Torlund’s invitation to spend the night feasting aboard the Bronze Eagle.
It had been Torlund’s suggestion that, rather than face one more day in idle expectation of another eruption from a nearby mountain, the fleet give itself over to a night of revelry.
So Thera had given permission for the casks of mead, ale and sundry drink to be tapped and strictures against dice, cards and other amusements lifted.
A long line of warships, brightly lit with torches, loud with raucous voices, and every deck alive with merriment, had been a strange sight to witness so deep in these dread islands.
Perturbed by the fact that there had been no sign of Lynnea after six days of absence, Thera eventually stopped refusing the many goblets Torlund thrust at her.
She was grateful for anything that might quell her un-queenly fretting and the Albermaine-ish wine from the Veilwald’s personal stores was both flavoursome and potent.
It was a shout from the Great Wolf that roused her.
Thera raised herself up from the coil of rope that had served as a makeshift bunk to see a solitary boat approaching.
Relief flooded her at the sight of Lynnea seated to the front of the two brothers working the oars.
Yet, Thera’s pleasure slipped into concern at the slumped state of her Tielwald’s form.
As the boat slowed to bump the Great Wolf’s hull, she saw how Lynnea’s face, always pale, was now almost bleached of colour save for her eyes.
Both were ringed in a dark, reddish shadow, as if bruised.
Hurrying to a rope fixed between to the Bronze Eagle’s prow and her fore-sail, Thera swung herself across the gap to the Great Wolf, landing on the mid-deck.
Ragnalt had already helped Lynnea aboard by the time Thera reached her side.
Seeing her closely, Thera was struck by the fact that her Tielwald appeared to have aged a decade or more in the space of mere days.
Her cheeks were hollow and new lines scored the flesh around her mouth and eyes.
“What has done this to you?” Thera demanded.
In response, Lynnea gave a weak smile and gripped her queen’s hands.
We have our guide, she replied, her thoughts weighted by a terrible weariness.
Turning, Lynnea cast her gaze over the water to the fore of the Great Wolf’s bows.
Thera thought she saw a shift in the current, as if something moved beneath the surface.
But it was fleeting and may have been mere trickery of a mind addled by too much wine.
Although, Lynnea went on, recapturing Thera’s attention, we must hurry. She grows impatient. And I believe her wrath is something best avoided.
“Whose wrath?” Thera asked, but Lynnea shook her head and moved to the prow, resting heavily against the timbers.
We have no time. Rouse the fleet and have them follow close. I will signal the course.
Ensuring the command to resume sailing was communicated all along the line took over an hour.
As they waited, Thera fetched a fur and draped it over Lynnea’s shoulders.
But she still trembled beneath the covering.
Questioned about their voyage with the Tielwald, Ahlgrun and Kelvyrn related a wayward journey through many winding fjords until they came to one that seemed deeper than all the others.
There, Lynnea had bade them still their oars while she stared into the dark water.
“Her face, my queen,” Ahlgrun said. “The change in it. It happened so quick. We wanted to leave but the Tielwald wouldn’t allow it. She has a way of making herself very clear with just a gesture, as you know.”
“I do,” Thera said before telling both brothers to go and rest.
I don’t know how long this will take, Lynnea stated as Thera lingered at her side.
She doesn’t reckon time or distance as we do.
Many questions rose to Thera’s lips, but she stilled her tongue.
In addition to a palpable fatigue, Lynnea’s thoughts were suffused with a sharp urgency.
Whatever happens, do not let me sleep, she instructed.
I cannot account for what will happen if she no longer senses my mind.
She turned, eyes bright in their red hollows.
Whip me if you have to, just don’t let me sleep.
“I will not,” Thera promised.
Nodding, Lynnea turned her gaze back to the water.
Once again, Thera saw the odd shift in the current but it was more evident now, an unmistakable disturbance from below accompanied by a small flash of white water.
As if in response to a command, Lynnea straightened.
Forward at steady stroke. Be ready to steer to port or starboard at my command.
Throughout the rest of the day, the Great Wolf led the fleet south along a channel that at first seemed too narrow to accommodate them, but soon broadened into a long lake.
It split into three waterways at its far end.
Thera expected Lynnea to guide them to the westward channel, but instead they turned due east, maintaining the same heading for the next few hours.
As the sky darkened, Lynnea would allow no lessening of their speed and Thera sent orders for all vessels to light every lantern and torch.
At night the Fire Isles resumed their most threatening aspect, the sky to either side turned red with fresh eruptions and the air thrumming with thunder.
Fortunately, these fiery outpourings were too distant to present a threat.
Lynnea remained at the prow throughout it all, refusing all sustenance save an occasional cup of water.
Sometimes her head dipped and eyelids drooped, only for her to stiffen at a gentle nudge from Thera.
More worrisome than her weariness was the way she continued to age.
Her face was now the shade of frosted marble save for the dark veins tracing beneath skin made near translucent.
Thera was beset by a sickening suspicion that the woman she loved was wasting away before her eyes.
“If I had known what I was asking of you—” she began only for Lynnea to interrupt with an angry retort.
You asked no more of me than any warrior in this fleet. Lynnea paused, a low moan escaping her lips as she gripped the rail in both hands. Now, my queen, please allow me to concentrate upon my task.
She faltered only once during the night, tottering forward with a vacant cast to her eyes.
The darkness beyond the prow was instantly broken by a splash as something large and fast broke the surface.
Lynnea jerked upright with a gasp and Thera experienced a jolt as she sensed the thought her Tielwald cast towards their unseen guide. Forgive me, old mother. I am here.
Thera saw no more splashes but the light cast by the lanterns arrayed along the Great Wolf’s bows caught a vague movement. She was unable to discern a clear shape, save for an impression of serpentine motion, before it slipped from view.
By the time dawn broke over the broadest channel they had yet encountered, Lynnea resembled a skeletal statue.
Thera had stopped replacing the fur that kept sloughing from her Tielwald’s shoulders, for she no longer seemed to feel the cold.
Nor did she share any thought beyond steering orders.
Her entire being was now focused on whatever lurked beneath the current barely a dozen yards away.
Five points to starboard, she instructed. Slow oars and be ready to steer quickly.
At first, these instructions made scant sense to Thera, for the way ahead appeared clear.
But, as the day wore on, she saw a thickening haze filling the channel and the air took on a familiar sulphurous taint.
“Scarves!” Thera called out, quickly fixing her own in place and attempting to do the same for Lynnea.
She scowled in irritation and twisted her face away, her barely blinking eyes locked on the water.
See us through, old mother, and I promise we shall trouble you no more.
The haze soon resolved into a billowing cloud, often banished by the wind only to thicken again.
Thera looked to the surrounding slopes but saw no glowing rivulets or tumbling rock to indicate an eruption.
Understanding dawned when the sound of boiling water drew her notice to the sight of steam rising from a large circular patch of bubbles twenty yards off the port bow.
There was an eruption here, but it was taking place below.
The air stank of released gases but not so thickly as to prove hazardous to the lungs, though Thera kept her scarf in place as a precaution.
Lynnea ordered several more course changes before the steam at last began to thin.
When it did so, Thera gaped at the sight it revealed: less than half a mile distant, between the high slopes of two islets, lay open ocean, shimmering blue under a cloudless sky and bare of obstacles all the way to the horizon.
Her surging joy faded into concern when Lynnea sank to her knees, letting out a sob of exhaustion. Still, she strove to keep her eyes upon the water, Thera hearing her thoughts as a dim fading song: Thank you, old mother…