Chapter Forty-Seven

When Irian awoke, Namid was still trailing him.  She was close, she knew-he had crashed around, his path weaving, his strength giving out.  She was almost to him.  His sword was heavy, and she had been forced to drag it the last mile or so.  She had her bow thrown over her shoulder,  and she was covered in dirt, mud and sweat.  Her lithe frame was scratched everywhere by underbrush, and biting flies were starting to find her.

Irian awoke on the shores of the sea, and he got to his feet unsteadily.  He was so tired, but he had to give himself to Manawydan.  There was a small fishing village within sight, and so he slipped into it.  Night was upon them, and the moon was full and fell.  He was hunting for a boat.  He found one, moored to a short quay almost outside town.  He hoped that they would forgive him for taking it.  He stepped over the gunwale, and began to untie the rope.  His fingers fumbled, and he saw triple.  Just a bit longer, he thought, and he could sleep forever. 

Namid caught sight of him on the quay.  Adrenaline fueling already screaming muscles, she ran to catch him.  His fingers finally undid the knot, and the tide started carrying him away.  With a tremendous final effort, she leapt from the end of the quay into the rapidly retreating boat.  Irian was unconscious again.  She wrapped him in what looked like a sail, and propped his head up on a coil of rope, and fell asleep watching him, praying that he’d live.

As they slept, the sea carried them on.

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Published in: on January 16, 2010 at 6:37 pm  Leave a Comment  

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