Cyrus paused, and felt his head bow unexpectedly. “I … I don’t know where I stand with Aisling.”
“Do you love her?” There was quiet expectation and disappointment in the way she said it.
Cyrus looked back to the rear of the boat, and Aisling was there, eyes closed, asleep. “I don’t know. I’ve come to a place where things have become beyond complicated. I don’t know how I feel about her. She’s been such balm to me over these last months, but it’s almost as though I’ve become so empty inside that it did me little good.”
“I wouldn’t tell her that if I were you,” Catrrine said.
“Not high on my list of things to do,” Cyrus said with a grunt. The ship bobbed in the water, and she leaned toward him. “I don’t entirely know where I stand with you, either. This land is about to fall.” He looked back. “I think there are other boats following us as well, which is probably wise on their part. There is little I recognize as safe, stable or normal right now. It feels as though everything is danger and trouble.”
“I don’t expect you to untangle all these emotions now,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “It’s quite enough that you came for me. To hear you say that you felt the same … it gives me the possibility of hope.”
Cyrus gave her a slow nod. “I’m sorry I can’t give you any more than that. I’m still … sifting through the wreckage inside.”
“And when you finish,” she asked, “what do you think you’ll find?”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shake of the head, slipping the oar back into the water and matching the rowing of the other men. “I’d like to believe in something again, something more than just fighting my way through life. I’d like a certainty to cling to, something that will always be around, no matter how bad things get. It used to be me; when things would get bad, I could look inside, and I knew which direction to go. When you worship the God of War, it’s a simple matter to just turn yourself toward battle. But it’s not that simple anymore. Now battle is a given, especially after these things,” he waved toward the dark shore, to their right, “came unto the land.”
“I’m not certain I understand,” Cattrine replied. “You believe in war, in conflict, in battle, yet … you look for what? Something else?”
“Something else, yes,” Cyrus said. “I let myself hope for a future with a woman I didn’t really have a true hope with. It shook my world. I believed in a greater purpose for myself through my guild, in the idea that I would fight to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, but everything I have done in this last year has caused the opposite of that. It’s put more people in danger and makes me question everything about this purpose I embraced.” He shook his head. “Is there really any good I can do when everything I do seems to come out wrong?” He turned his head away from her. “That seems especially true when I consider the women in my life.”
“For my part,” she said quietly after a moment’s pause, “although I wished things had gone differently between us, I have never seen you do anything less than your best with what you had available at the time.”
“Isn’t that what all of us do, though?” Cyrus asked. “Our best? Most people’s best doesn’t involve releasing a plague of death upon an entire land, though.”
She didn’t say anything for a long space after that. “You couldn’t have predicted it. No one could.”
“You’re right,” he said. “But I’m still responsible. That means it’s up to me to salvage all I can from my failure.”
“How do you think … you’ll go about that?” Her eyes cast ahead, in the direction of an unseen shore.
“I don’t know,” Cyrus said. “I really … just don’t know.”
She laid a hand upon his shoulder. “I am grateful to you for coming, regardless of all else that has happened. These things you have become embroiled in, these matters of gods and the dead, are beyond my understanding and almost my belief. I only know that absent your arrival, these things would have swept us away completely. Had you not come to Caenalys, I would surely have died there.”
“You don’t know that,” Cyrus said, looking down, putting his shoulders into the work. “Your dear husband seems like the sort of crazed rat who might have abandoned the city given a chance. He might have dragged you into a boat and taken you off to the west.”
“Where we would still eventually be killed by those things, I’d wager.” She didn’t sound sad when she said it, though it was hard to be sure in the wind. “And if not, I’d still have been with him. I might have preferred to stay in Caenalys.”
Cyrus bowed his head. “I don’t know that I’ve done you any favors. What’s coming … if they manage to cross the bridge, I don’t think there is any safe ground after that. Arkaria will fight them, eventually, if they have enough will left to do so after the war. It may be that I’ve spared you death in your homeland so that you can come and die in mine.”
She pursed her lips, thinking about it. “I don’t think so. Since the day I have met you, you have consistently defied all expectations, including mine. Even when I was certain I would never see you again, you came for me. Even when I thought all faith between us had been broken.” She smiled, just a little one. “I suppose what I’m trying to say, Cyrus Davidon, is that thus far, you’ve come through on every occasion for me.” Her eyes were deep, lost in his. “I believe in you. Perhaps more than you believe in yourself just now, but I do. And I believe that if there is any man, in any land, that can find a way to save us from this menace-it is you.” With that, she kissed him again passionately, with a hand on his cheek to hold his face. Then she broke from him with a lingering touch, a long one, and went back to the rear of the boat where the others waited for her.
For a long time after that, Cyrus continued to row his oar in time with the others-and let his mind try desperately to find a way to correct his gravest of errors.
Chapter 98
They made landfall a few days later. Because the peninsula that Caenalys was built on and the one that connected the Endless Bridge to Arkaria were close together, they made an easy transit of the shortest distance between the two, and came ashore on a beach that was overgrown with long, green swamp grass. Cyrus waded in and helped Cattrine onto the sulphur-smelling shore, where rotting seaweed lay upon the beach. It festooned the sands, a curious red and green tinge to it. The wind whipped along, carrying only the faintest bite of the winter that had picked at him for months; it was clearly spring, and in a southern locale. Now at least we don’t have to fight in the snow.
The boat crew launched off a few minutes later, leaving Cyrus, Aisling, Cattrine, J’anda and Martaina along with their horses on the shore. The sand was packed tightly beneath Cyrus’s boots, and every step yielded a little, reminding him of walking on shallow snow.
“We have four horses and five people,” J’anda said, turning his blue face into the wind and to Cattrine. “Why don’t you ride with Aisling, since she’s the smallest of us?” The enchanter turned to give the ranger a wicked smile and found her expressionless, though her eyes did tack toward Cyrus, hard and pointed. “I kid. I’m not that heavy, you can ride with me unless you’d prefer to strain his horse,” he chucked a thumb at Cyrus.
“That’s a very kind invitation,” Cattrine said with a bow of her head. “I accept, though perhaps after a while I will switch, just to spare your horses from such a heavy burden all day long.”
Cyrus left Aisling’s sidewards glare behind and climbed the berm at the edge of the beach, where a field of heavy, tall grass blocked the sight of the other side. Below was an easy spread, flatlands with sparse short grass interspersed with fields of longer grass and hummocks of trees. There appeared to be a coastal swamp in the distance to the left and almost out of sight, Cyrus could see a road ahead, at the edge of his vision. There was movement on it, a steady line of refugees trudging, their darker clothes and human shapes separating them from the horizon line. They stretched from one side of his vision to the other, trailing off, a sad line with only the occasional horse to differentiate from the stooped-back figures.