The Frozen Sea is as cold as the bones of a dead man, gray and thunderous in its choppy, murky depths. The tall, wooden ship cuts through the waves like a knife, gliding past the porous, jagged rocks of the mainland cliffside.
The seven stand on the deck, bundled in furs and woolen clothes, peering out under hoods at the clashing sea. High above them, Tara's bird soars, its golden-tipped wings fluttering against the cutting wind. Today, the captain promised, today they will see the snow-capped tips of Eastwatch.
Even with the nauseatingly relentless rock of the boat it would be difficult for the other six to be more relieved than Allayria to reach the shore. The week of endless dark blue water has brought back old nightmares of sinking down into the deep, of water pressing blackly against mouth and nose, and of dead things, pale and lidless, slipping between the waves. Sleep has become a fractured twilight, evaporating with sharp bitterness every time her bleary gaze touches on the moonlight filtering through the misty window, on the shadows passing over her. It is a reminder of another time spent below deck, of lying awake in the gray night, listening to a heartbeat beneath her ear. The loneliness is a palpable thing.
As eager as she is to touch the solid earth again, Allayria is anxious about what comes next. From Eastwatch they will make a slow, perilous journey to Abadi Chaudri's secret base. And then... they'll do something.
In all the other crazy things she's done in her life, there has been a plan. Sometimes strung together haphazardly, sometimes shattering upon impact, leaving the planners to improvise in the moment, but she's never gone in without a plan.
She would like to remedy this—Lei, with all his live-wire energy, would love to remedy this—but their overwhelming problem is that there are no details to plan with. The location and scant details of what might be there are all they have, and it's not nearly enough to come up with something that would make Allayria comfortable. The best she was able to do was procure seven Jarles uniforms. They have been practicing under the deck. Practicing the way she had once before, the way she had with...
The tip of her nose stinging with chill, Allayria passes her mitted hand over her eyes.
No more memories, she tells herself. I can't do this forever.
Someone shuffles behind her and Allayria turns to see Hiran disappearing below deck. Probably to start making dinner. They had all learned, between quickly becoming tired of dry jerky and enthusiastically supporting Tara's almost unnerving ability to catch fish, that the only person amongst them with any talent in the kitchen was Hiran. He grouses about it, but Allayria sees the smug way he watches Tara chomp into the seasoned meat.
"H-he promised we'd be there by nightfall," Fae mumbles between furs, turning toward Allayria.
"We've had rough water," she answers, and Fae groans.
"Does that mean we'll have to spend another night on here?"
"I'm not," Tara says darkly. "I'll go sleep in a snowdrift if I have to."
"You'd die of hypothermia," Caj interjects.
The Beast-caller's brown, long-lashed eyes flicker over to him and his bare hands.
"Not if you come with me and keep us warm."
"Count me in too," Fae moans and, beneath all the furs of his coat, Caj's form stiffens.
"No one's wandering off into a snowdrift," Allayria says shortly. "The rest of us would have to drag your frozen bodies up to Eastwatch and then you'd take entirely too long to thaw out."
"I'm going to need time to thaw out anyway," Tara mutters.
"If we have to stay on the boat another night it won't be as bad as on the open water," Lei interrupts, though he doesn't look back at any of them. "The tide isn't as rough close to shore."
YOU ARE READING
Partisan - Book II
Fantasy*COMPLETE* "People don't believe in us anymore. They don't believe that in the end we will do what is right. We can't let them down. We can't let Ben win." Decisions made on top of the lonely, wind-swept cliff of Lethinor reverberate around the five...
