Magnus was one of the first off the boat. He hit the sand and ran up the slope to the stone blocks, touching them with his hands as if to assure himself they were real. Royce was off next. His face had started to take on a green all its own. His elven heritage made him subject to seasickness and Hadrian recalled the days of misery his friend had spent aboard the Emerald Storm. Royce climbed to the top of a large sturdy rock and lay down. Alric and Mauvin arrived on the beach wide-eyed, looking up at the ruined stone with awe. Arista was the last off, accompanied by Myron, who held her hand. She had slept for more than two hours and still had deep shadows beneath her eyes. After reaching the beach, she turned around to view the Harbinger and a look of remorse crossed her brow.
“She’s not in much shape for a return trip,” Wyatt stated, looking at the princess. “I was thinking that maybe Elden and I ought to stay here and work on her while the rest of you fetch that horn. I could rig a few pulleys in these rocks, and with Elden’s help, I might be able to set a new mast if we manage to find something we can use for one. At the very least, I could run a jib line and reinforce the pole we have. I also think the rudder needs some work and I need to stop the leaks that opened up or she’ll sink on the way back. I have the pitch for that; I just need to make a fire and get the hull out of the water, which the tide should help with.”
“And if the Ghazel spot you?” Arista asked.
“Well, I will do my best to avoid that, but if they come around, I suppose we’ll hide among the rocks. I’m hoping that after today, we won’t be seeing any more of them for a while. Perhaps we have at least a few days before another ship arrives.
“Thing is, I’m on this trip for my sailing skills, right? I can’t handle a sword as well as a Pickering or Hadrian, and I wasn’t brought along for that, anyway. Neither was Elden. Besides, you can leave the excess gear here, and travel lighter.”
Arista nodded. She did not look strong enough to argue.
“I really didn’t mean to hit you so hard,” Hadrian told her as Arista sat down on the sand.
“What?” she asked sluggishly. “Oh no, it’s not my head. It’s just that I feel exhausted, even after sleeping. I feel like I’ve walked for miles and been up for weeks. You know better than I do—do you get that from being whacked in the head?”
“No, not really,” he replied. “It just usually throbs awhile and aches after that.”
“I feel sort of like you do when coming down with a cold—weak, tired. My mind just wanders and I can’t stay focused. It doesn’t help that anytime I sleep, I have dreams.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she said, embarrassed.
“I thought that from the first time we met.”
She smirked at him. “In my dreams I’m not me—I actually think I’m Esrahaddon, only it’s years ago, before this city was destroyed, before the emperor was killed, before he was locked up.”
“That’s what you get from wearing that robe.”
She looked down. “It’s a really nice robe—very warm, and have you ever seen one that lights up for you?”
“It’s a little creepy.”
“Maybe.”
They sat in silence for a minute. Elden and Wyatt walked around the ship, looking at the hull. They were wasting no time assessing the damage. Alric and Mauvin climbed up in the rocks, exploring like children. Myron sat only a few feet away and appeared to be watching them.
Hadrian stared at the waves as they rolled ashore, splashing just beyond their feet. They would head off soon, but for now, it was good to sit on solid ground. He would nudge Royce in a bit, but he wanted to give him a few minutes. He expected dangers would be greater from that point on, and preferred Royce to be in top form.
“I should thank you,” Arista said with downcast eyes and a quiet voice, as if it were a confession.
He looked at her curiously. “For what?”
“For the crack on the head,” she replied, raising a hand to rub the spot. She took the bandage off. “Alric was right. I’d lost control.” Her hair fell across her face—an auburn curtain hiding everything but the tip of her nose. “It’s hard to explain the feeling of it—the power—it’s as if I can do anything. Can you imagine knowing you can do anything? It’s exciting, alluring—it draws you in and you want it like a hunger. You feel yourself becoming part of something bigger, joining with it, working with it. You sense every drop of water, every blade of grass, and you become them—everything—the air and the stars. You want to see how far you can go, where the edges are, only some part of you knows—there are no edges.
“I never did anything that big before. I spread out too far. I joined with it too much. I was losing myself, I think. It was just so amazing, feeling the world respond to me like it was a part of me, or I was a part of it. I don’t know—I wasn’t thinking anymore. I was just feeling and I don’t know what might have happened if you hadn’t…”
“Whacked you?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m just glad you aren’t mad,” he said, and meant it. “Most people I hit wake up with a slightly different attitude.”
“I suppose they do.” She pulled the curtain of hair back and tilted her head up at him. She had a self-conscious smile on her face. “I’d also like to thank you for something else.”
He looked at her once more—confused and a little worried.
“I want to thank you for not being afraid of me.”
Her hair was tangled, her face drawn and weary. She had drooping eyes and thin pale pink lips. There was a pinch of sand on the tip of her nose. Creases marked her forehead, thin lines of worry.