“You should sleep.” Thorn advised the girls. “We all should. We will not be attacked down here.”
Needing little in the way of coercion, both girls wrapped up in their blankets, satisfied that the ocean would look after them.
The next morning, Candor awoke to a sliver of piercing light shining through the side of the tarp. The water had returned to its abode, leaving the girls alive and alone.
Quickly, the trio wolfed down some fruit and buckled their saddles, slinging their packs along the sides. Without a word, they mounted, and moved south along the beach, the sea sparkling to their west. To their east, Candor could see the darkness of mudcaked plains. That’s why there are divots here, Candor thought to herself, because the sea rises so far and washes out the earth. Candor thougth of the length of the grass over the wadis they had passed and wondered when the last time a visitor had come through.
By midmorning, Candor and Letti looked on in quiet dismay and burgeoning horror respectively as what appeared to be the remnants of broken boats littered the structures up and down the beach. Thorn did not comment. Ahead of them, a small tower loomed. As they approached, it looked to be the size of the hill house, made entirely of stone. Instead of tapering into a point, the obelisk inverted at the top, creating space for something to sit. Indeed, what appeared to be a bird’s nest rested in the trough, its grass and sticks barely visible above the pyramid’s long walls.
“That is the departure.” Thorn said grimly. He swung down from his horse, and the girls followed suit. “When the tide is out, there extends a small pier into the water. That is where you will leave from.” Thorn turned to look at Candor, his expression a mix of hidden pity and hidden pride. “It’s time to build a boat.”
Candor nodded and tied off her horse next to Thorn’s. Letti, stomach churning, did the same. “Will there be another storm tonight?” She asked.
“Yes.” Thorn replied. “But it won’t matter. Candor will be away by then.” Thorn shuffled through some sand-covered debris heaped against another rock structure. “Here’s a hull. There’s plenty here to put a boat together.”
“Come on Lettishae.” Candor implored her friend, grabbing her hand. “We used to make little boats as kids. It’s the same concept.”
Candor’s eyes, though still haunted, sparked in the way they used to, the way that Letti had never been able to turn down. She felt her heart lift, ever so slightly, and shoved Candor gently. “Not the same.”
Candor smiled, but Letti knew her former self would have laughed. Who is she becoming? Letti thought sadly.
Quickly, the trio crept up and down the beach for pieces of broken boats in search of parts to make a new whole, a new hope.
Letti did not find the plethora of options reassuring, but she did not comment. She knew Candor had to go, even as she knew she could not.
“Candor come here.” Thorn beckoned. From his pack, he pulled a long twist of twine. “Lash these two hulls together, and those two.” Thorn pointed at the four hulls they had collected. “We’ll then add the center planks and tie your pack to the mast.”
Candor raised an eyebrow. “You know how to make boats too?”
“I know lots of things.” Thorn grunted. “And you’re mad at me.”
“No, I’m not.” Candor corrected, but she did suck in her cheeks. “I am mad at the world. I am mad at the choices you made.”
“I stand corrected.” Thorn handed Candor the twine.
Candor, irrirated, unwound the twine and, with Letti’s help, set about tying the two hollow pieces together. Candor wondered what kind of people had sailed on these boats before her, what perils they faced, what ends they met. While indulgent, this line of thinking offered Candor nothing but tragedy, and she needed to focus. She was a strong swimmer, but the small skiffs the village had used for fishing were nothing like what they were building. She hoped this boat was sturdier. She never liked feeling at someone else’s mercy, especially the ocean’s.
“No sea stars.” Letti muttered as Candor lashed twine around the two battered pieced Letti held.
“What?” Candor asked.
“No sea stars after the storm.” Letti enunciated. “Guess it wasn’t about fighting gods.”
“They probably just don’t live here, Lettishae.” Candor motioned for her to hold up the other end of the hulls.
“This place feels dead Candor.” Letti shivered. “Can’t you sense it? There’s nothing in the sand. Nothing in the water. There’s nothing living here.”
“There’s a nest on the top of the tower, Letti.” Candor pointed to the top of the inverted obelisk. “There’s a bird that lives there.”
Letti had to concede the point. “There’s nothing else.” She insisted stubbornly, and she meant it. To Letti, this place felt grey; anywhere else she had stepped in the land, she could feel life surrounding her. Here… it felt as if the entire world held its breath.
Candor did not seem affected. “You’re just worried about sailing Letti. It will be fine.”
As the day grew longer, it became clear that Thorn’s prediction would not hold. They would have to stay another night on the beach.
The two girls lashed the second pair of broken hulls and positioned two planks across their center. The sun dipped into the north and the sky dripped with pinks and oranges, and Thorn called for a halt.
“We need to get into shelter.” Thorn gestured to the horizon where the clouds sprinted together once more.
Carefully, Letti lead the horses into a small shelter, slightly bigger than their abode the night before. Thorn and Candor bent to pick up the small boat, careful to lift together.
“You wouldn’t think this would float.” Candor grunted. Thorn did not bother to reply.
Letti had already begun to tie the tarp up when the wind picked up.
“Hurry!” She called.
With as much speed as they dared, Candor and Thorn wedged the little boat into the space with the horses, clambering over its hulls as Letti pulled the tarp closed over the entry. Much the same as the night before, wind whistled and beat upon the stone, a precursor to the water that swept over them, burying them in its depths.
“I feel as though we have drowned.” Letti mumbled.
Candor, however, had encountered a different problem. “We don’t have a sail.” She informed her companions.
“I’ve been looking.” Thorn said.
“It would surprise me to find one.” Candor said, apprehension setting in. “Sails would be the first to go in a storm.”
Thorn did not answer. The three weathered the night, sleeping well once more. As dawn sent watery beams through the cave, Candor realized someone had removed the tarp. Thorn’s dull snores filled the cave as Candor sat up, realizing that Letti had exited already.
She found her friend sitting at the base of the tower, its pier becoming slowly more visible. Candor made her way over to Letti.
Letti’s curls danced in the wind, her hair having grown long over the journey as well. Candor stopped a few paces back, unsure for the first time, if Letti would want her company.
“You can come over, Candor.” Letti called without looking back.
Candor clambered onto the burgeoning dock and sat next to her friend, back against the little tower.
“Odd stone this.” Candor remarked.
“It doesn’t belong here.” Letti replied. “It’s not stone of the sea.”
Candor observed the tall monolith and discovered that Letti seemed to be right. It shone, smooth and seamless. It looked to have been carved right out of the ground, but no stone Candor knew would compress like this. This stone came from pressure, deep under mountains.
“It’s majik.” Letti whispered. She finally turned to Candor. “It’s here so they know when you leave it.”
Candor had nothing to say and was utterly baffled by Letti’s tears. Gently, Candor pulled her friend into an embrace, even as Letti had the night they had escaped from Ome Chaer. Letti wept, tears seeping into Candor’s tunic through her curls.
Candor ached, for she knew the pain of this release. Candor rocked Letti and waited for her to catch her breath. After many long moments, Letti pushed herself back up. Eyes bloodshot, they focused on Candor’s for one moment too long. Softly, Letti let her fingertips touch Candor’s cheek.
Candor was so surprised, she froze. Unsure how to handle the instant emotional reversal, Candor remained motionless, even as Letti let her hand drop and sat back, utterly deflated.
“I can’t go with you Candor.” She finally said, her voice bleak.
“I—what?” Candor’s mind took a moment to catch up, then her heart clenched. “You’ve made your choice then.”
“It’s not a choice.” Letti met Candor’s eyes once more. “If I go with you, I will die. I am certain of it. I do not know why or how I know this, but I can tell you from my bones, Candor. I am not to join you on this quest.”
Candor remained silent for a moment. “I have to go.”
“I know.” Letti smiled a wavery smile that didn’t quite make it all the way across her face. “I will go with Thorn. Perhaps to Durevin. I will try to track down the fates of your mothers.”
Candor felt her throat tighten. “I do not wish to part from you.”
“Nor I you.” Letti felt herself pulling back, formality offering a barrier to the emotional rending both knew inevitable. “This is the end for now.”
“I’ll see you again.”
“Of course.”
Both girls let out wet giggles, as they followed each others’ words. “Just like when we were girls.”
“Just like.” Letti repeated.
“Come on.” Candor hiccoughed slightly. “We can’t let Thorn build this boat by himself.”
“He will take care of me.” Letti reassured her friend.
Candor scowled as she climbed off the rock, but she knew Letti trusted him. “He will be a companion.” She paused. “Do not take him at his word.” She turned quickly to Letti. “He is what he is, he is a man. But he is also something more than that, and you must see he has something in him that is not quite human. Beware of what he says, for there are always second and third facets of his truths.”
Letti nodded. As satisfied as she could be, Candor turned back to the beach and trudged back to Thorn, who was lashing a large mast to the boat by himself.
“It would be better if we’d had adhesive.” Thorn grunted as the girls joined him. “But alas, we make do.”
“Thank you, Thorn.” Candor eyed her boat. Her sack sat tied to the base of the mast.
“All your belongings are in the stomach, except the books.” Thorn explained, his expression guarded. “I left those in Letti’s pack, for the water. You know. That’s why it looks smaller.”
Candor’s eyes narrowed, but she nodded. Something was afoot here that she did not understand, but she was too emotional to think too much upon it. Her throat grew tight again, and she grew frustrated. She should not feel so weighted as she did. Despite her qualms with the man, she realized she had grown fond of Thorn. She despised a piece of herself for it, cursing her heart for being soft.
“We still don’t have a sail.” Letti observed, almost hopefully.
Thorn hesitated, before shaking his head. “We do.” From his pack, he pulled the tarp and began fastening it to the mast.
“Thorn, no.” Candor stepped to the large man. “I can’t let you do this.”
“You won’t get across without a sail.” Thorn did not slow his knots. “Consider it a gift.”
A beg for forgiveness, Candor thought. “Thank you.” She met his eyes. She meant it.
Thorn softened slightly, a tension lifting from between his shoulders. Perhaps Candor imagined it.
“There.” Thorn stepped back after quick work with the leather strings. He showed Candor how to adjust it for more wind. “You know enough about sailing; you should get there.”
Candor appreciated the confidence.
“It’s time I go.” She stood straight.
“You might want this.” Thorn handed Candor her indigo sword from where he’d leaned it against his pack. “Do not lose this.” Thorn did not let it go for a moment when Candor grasped it. “This is more precious than you know.” His eyes widened slightly, and Candor saw a touch of madness, but it passed quickly, and Candor took her sword. She fastened it around her torso, making sure it was tight. “It will need a new name soon.” Thorn advised her.
“A new name?”
“Swords always have names.” Thorn explained. “Swords that sing.”
Candor opened her mouth to ask but thought better of it. She would ask when she arrived at her destination.
“Letti?” Thorn turned to their third companion. “Are you ready?”
Letti squared her shoulders, even as Candor had done, and nodded. She turned to hug Candor one last time.
Neither exchanged words; there was nothing left to say.
Together, the three pushed the boat towards the waves, Thorn pulling from pier once they arrived at the sea. At the end of the pier, Letti hoisted herself out of the water, and Thorn lifted her up to stand by him. Candor tugged at her makeshift rudder and adjusted her sail. She looked back quickly, to see Letti and Thorn, arms by their sides, watching her sail away. Letti looked so small next to Thorn’s hulking frame. She will be safe, Candor thought to herself. She will be safe.
Letti felt tears running down her cheeks but kept her face straight and cold so that if Candor happened to turn around again, she would not see them. She is too far to see me cry, Letti thought to herself. Don’t be stupid.
As Candor grew smaller, Thorn touched Letti’s shoulder softly. “We need to go.”
Wordlessly, Letti turned and followed Thorn off the curious pier, back towards the horses.
“Ready your things. There is one more thing we need to do before we depart.” Thorn said over his shoulder. Quickly, he dragged out the saddles and buckled them on the horses. Letti couldn’t resist glancing out over the waves every few moments.
“You’re going to miss something if you keep looking after her.” Thorn placed his hands over a knot Letti had been attempting to tie. “This is your first time without her then, is it?”
“Aye it is.” Letti said softly. She had no more tears, just a bruise-like feeling in the center of her chest.
Thorn nodded, and asked no more questions, for which Letti was grateful.
“Wait here.” Thorn instructed when the horses were prepared. Thorn jogged back to the tower with a something he had pulled from his pack. Letti’s curls whipped around her face as she watched the large man approach the tower. The clouds were gathering off the edge of the sea, and Letti hoped against hope they would avoid Candor.
Thorn worked his way up the base of the tower, shimmying and grabbing his way up the slick rock. As he reached the top, Thorn braced his legs on either side of the obelisk, freeing his hands to grasp the tool he had brought.
As Letti realized with horror what Thorn was trying to do, she screamed and began running pell-mell towards the tower.
“Thorn, no!”
At Letti’s scream, Thorn slipped slightly, losing his grip on his flint.
“Thorn!” Letti called again.
Sliding from the tower, Thorn jumped down and ran to Letti.
“What? Are you ok? Are you hurt?” The whites of his eyes showed.
“You were going to light that nest.” Letti panted. Adrenaline racing out of her, she bent over to catch her breath. “You were going to light the nest.” She repeated.
“Yes.” Thorn grasped Letti’s upper arms, “if you light the nest on the tower, it stays lit, and if Candor cannot make it across, she can find her way back.”
“That is a false hope.” Letti said flatly. Her curls whipped around her face. “Listen to this land. There is no life here. None. There is no sign of life except that nest. Do not light it, Thorn, I can feel it in my bones.” The wind stole Letti’s voice for a moment. “There is no turning back, Thorn. You must know this. That is a false hope.”
Thorn hesitated, then in one fluid movement, tucked his flint and jogged back to the horses. Letti jogged behind him and slung herself up on her pony.
“Be careful!” Thorn called over the wind. “The wadis.”
Letti did not bother to respond. Behind her, the water was rising, growing in the largest wave she had ever seen. Instead of crashing, however, it moved inexorably forward, absorbing the tower and everything else in its path.
Letti wheeled around and cantered after Thorn who was galloping straight east. As the sea chased them, Letti forgot her pain, just for a moment. She forgot everything but the muddied land in front of her, and it was the best numbness she had ever felt. As she fled, Letti yelled, not a scream but a cry of passion, of rebellion, of remaining alive. She leaned forward over her horse, her hair streaming behind her, dark eyes fixed on the horizon, and ran.
~.~
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