“It’s massive,” he said, staring out at the endless expanse.
She nodded. “Rumors say oceans have no end; they go on forever. This is just a narrow strait.” She pointed to the horizon. “Caric and Neith are out that way, but if you were to sail south around the coast of Belgreig, you’d enter the endless water of the Blue Sea.”
“What makes the big ripples?” he asked, thinking about the size of a boulder that would create such things.
“The sea god, Eraphus. The people of Dahl Tirre believe he’s splashing out there somewhere. They don’t have the same relationship with their god as we do with Mari. Rather than expecting blessings, they fear his reprisals. Many a massive storm has ravaged their seaside home. Eraphus’s Wrath is what they call such a storm, and only after it arrives do they determine which transgression brought the destruction.”
Staring at the water and the hammering waves, Raithe considered that if Eraphus really existed, he’d have to be considerably bigger than the largest giants and more powerful than any Fhrey. Since learning the Fhrey were mortal, he had wondered if there were any real gods.
“It’s frighteningly beautiful.”
She nodded. “Indeed. It’s also where we came from. All the Rhunes. Can you imagine what it must have been like? I mean, being Gath of Odeon and telling everyone to get on floating bits of wood and sail out into that expanse of nothingness? I don’t know how he convinced them. He must have believed it was the only way to save our people. He couldn’t know where he’d end up, how long it would take, or even if there was anywhere else. He risked the lives of everyone, on the hope of finding something he didn’t know existed.”
They said nothing for a time, each lost in their own thoughts, then she said, “Tegan of Clan Warric and Harkon of Melen arrived last night.”
“I heard.”
“That’s the last of them. All the Rhulyn chieftains are assembled. I really didn’t expect the Gula chieftains would show up. But I wish they had. The meeting will begin tomorrow.”
“Heard that, too.”
“This is the first time in a hundred years…probably more…that all the chieftains will be together.”
“Not all the chieftains,” Raithe said. “Walon and Eten are dead.”
“A man named Alward is the new chieftain of Nadak. You probably saw them. The whole clan is just fifty or sixty people now, mostly men. They’re camping near the eastern end of the wall.”
“And Dureya?”
Persephone looked down at her feet for a moment. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve asked the other chieftains, and they all say the same thing. There haven’t been any other survivors…no refugees from even the most remote village. As far as we can tell, you’re the only one that’s left of the Dureyan clan.”
“Lucky me,” he said with more bite than he intended. Having his whole clan wiped out by the Fhrey wasn’t Persephone’s fault.
“In a way, you are fortunate. As far as the other leaders are concerned, you’re the Dureyan chieftain.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“It means you’ll have a vote, an equal say in who becomes keenig. It also means you can’t be my Shield anymore. So I’m officially dismissing you. If you were both, the others might think I was influencing your vote. Besides, the post never really suited you. You don’t like taking direction from anyone.”
“I can’t be a chieftain if there’s no clan.”
“We don’t know for certain that all the Dureyans are dead. A month or a year from now survivors could turn up, and they should be represented.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. It was wet with the fog and the sea’s spray. The mist left jeweled droplets along the strands. Her cheeks were moist and glistened in the intermittent sunlight. She stood facing the water, hands on her head, the constant wind blowing her dress.
He tried to stop himself from what he was about to say but couldn’t. “Persephone…I have to ask. I mean, a lot has happened since…what I’m trying to say is, have you reconsidered leaving with me?”
“Going with you to Avrlyn?” The sadness in her eyes deepened. “You can’t still be thinking about that.”
“Just hear me out. Before, you wanted to stay for the people you considered your family: Sarah and Brin, Moya and Padera, Gifford and Roan. You had a home to fight for, and Konniger’s incompetence was threatening everyone’s future. But your village has been destroyed, just like mine. In Avrlyn, we could build something new. Something good and lasting. You’ve done what was needed for your people. You’ve convinced the chieftains to band together and appoint a keenig. Nyphron has agreed to train the troops. You’ve done your part. Now let others do theirs.”
She started to reply, but he interrupted her.
“I’m not saying it has to be just the two of us. I’m not asking you to leave the ones you love behind. Bring whoever you want. We can all go, Malcolm and Suri, too. If we leave now, we’ll have time to build a shelter before the snow flies. As for food, there’s an abundance of game, and the rivers are filled with fish. I have the perfect place picked out. A bluff overlooking the Urum River that has an exposed cliff with flint shards. It’s perfect.”
She stared at him again for a long while, and her expression became confused, then upset. “You can’t be serious. I can’t leave. I’m responsible for more than just a handful of people. All of Rhen is counting on me.”
“Not anymore.” Raithe pointed back at the dahl. “Once the keenig is appointed, it’ll be his responsibility to keep everyone safe. Not yours. You did your part. You’re done.”
“I’m not done…and you can’t be, either. This doesn’t end with the appointing of a keenig. We’re chieftains, leaders of our people.”
“I—have—no—people! You said so yourself. It’s just me, and I have no interest in being the keenig. Look, you’ve lived your whole life in Dahl Rhen, protected from the Gula–Rhulyn wars. You have no idea what lies ahead. And you know what? Neither do I, but I understand better than you about what’s coming. If we fight, we’ll die. If we leave, then we have a chance to live. And if we live, then we might be able to do some good. Maybe we can build something that will withstand the Fhrey if for no other reason than they don’t know we exist.”
Persephone threw up her hands. “You’re right. I know nothing about war. But let me tell you what I believe. I think running from responsibility breeds self-loathing and despair. I think people can, and do, rise to the occasion, and even a single person can make an incredible difference. What they need are leaders who believe in them, a belief that gives birth to hope. With hope, people can do remarkable things, amazing things. Between hope and despair, I’ll take hope every time.”
“Hope without cause is insanity.”
“I have cause. I believe in us. I believe we can win if we’re brave, if we’re committed. I believe people can do anything if they try hard enough.”
“Then you believe in fantasies.”
“I would call them dreams. Maybe that is all they are, but aren’t those ideals worth believing in?” She took a deep breath. “If you want to leave, then go. But I’m staying here. You say you don’t have any people? Well, open your eyes. We’re all in this together. We’re all the same people. It’s not about Dureya or Nadak or Rhen. We’re fighting for the lives of all of us. Maybe you should think less about yourself and more about others.”