Erienne knew they had made good speed but to her their passage still felt so slow. She knew it was her anxiety but the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. She'd have blown into the sails herself but the stiff wind whipping white horses across the surface of the water, and without doubt a product of Lyanna's mind, was obviously power enough. Indeed at times, the captain of the Ocean Elm could be seen frowning out from the wheel deck, confused as to the direction of the wind which didn't necessarily accompany cloud or follow its direction.
But he was a skilful sailor, used to the vagaries of the Southern Ocean and the tides around Calaius; and though clearly irritated by the conflicting information he could see and feel, had enough faith in his judgement and kept the sails full.
Erienne had risen with the first signs of dawn, as she had each morning, marvelling at the sight of light breaking across the eastern horizon as she stood at the bow, dressed in thick woollen breeches, shirt and cloak. This morning, she could see Balaia on the horizon. It was a clear, bright day without a hint of haze and the sight boosted her spirits, quelling the impatience that Ren'erei had found both funny and frustrating.
'Be calm,' she had said. 'There's nothing you can do. The wind and the ship are beyond your control. If you relax your mind, the days will pass more quickly.'
Erienne smiled and half-turned to see the pretty young elf standing on the wheel deck next to the captain. She had tried to teach Erienne mind-calming exercises which were surprisingly similar to those taught at the Colleges to mages suffering severe mana drain. Ren'erei asked her to think of her tensed mind as a muscle, cramped by fatigue, before imagining it slowly unwinding and stretching, then feeling the cool wash of blood begin to flow again.
She knew she could do it, she just didn't want to, and her smiling admission had caused Ren to throw up her arms and stalk away.
Now, of course, Erienne wished she'd tried harder. She was tired, having not had a solid night's sleep since leaving Herendeneth. Lyanna's cries of pain and fear still echoed around her skull in the dead of night and her own anxiety surfaced to wake her a dozen times from her rest.
She'd survive. The coastline was looming large and the trip up the
river to Arlen quick, if the captain timed the tide well. Erienne had no doubt that he would.
Her emotions were so mixed. She was desperate to see Denser but feared his reaction after so long out of contact. She needed his strength and thought but disliked the admission of failure it had come to represent within her. And she still thrilled at the prospect of standing with The Raven once again despite knowing the confidence it would give her was entirely unfounded. After all, how could they possibly help? She had to smile at that. They had achieved enough against the odds to make the question ridiculous. The fact was, they'd find a way.
There would be problems, though. She knew Ilkar would be ethically opposed to a return to the One and she could well understand the conflicting thoughts that would be running through his mind. Perhaps he wouldn't even be with them. But somehow, she thought he wouldn't miss it – if only to ensure right was done by his College. As for Denser, well, Denser's College had a vested interest and they'd no doubt be irritated he wasn't working directly with them. But he was a father before he was a Xeteskian and he'd fight his own College if he thought they threatened Lyanna. And in that, as in so much, Erienne and he were one.
But through all her feelings at what she would find back in Balaia, her strongest tie was to the child she had been forced to leave behind. Poor Lyanna. The innocent in a game with no rules, no defined sides and no obvious way to win. Erienne yearned to see her little face, her delightful smile and her beautiful eyes. And she feared that if this mission went astray, and the Dordovans found Heren-deneth, she would not.
The strengthening wind drove the bow of the Ocean Elm into the next wave, sending spray flying into the air and across the foredeck. Erienne wiped a film of water from her face, turned and walked to the wheel deck, her balance true and confident after six days at sea.
Trotting up the eight-ranged ladder she came to stand by Ren'erei, the elf smiling at her, green eyes sparkling.
'Getting a little rough down there, was it?' she asked.
'No. It's just that I've already washed this morning, that's all,' she returned. 'How close are we?'
The Captain turned to her, reddened face pinched, his strong
hands rocks on the wheel. 'A day and a half, no more. Less if we go upriver through the night and I have a mind to.' His voice was melodic and gentle, so different from when he bellowed orders to his crew.
Erienne nodded. 'Then it's time I tried to contact Denser. I'll be in my cabin and I need to not be disturbed.'
'Then I'll be standing outside the door.' Ren'erei's face was solemn.
'You don't have to.' Erienne smiled.
'Nevertheless.'
Erienne led the way below decks, turning to Ren'erei as she reached the door to her cabin.
'You should hear nothing,' she said. 'But even if you do, don't worry. Occasionally, dispersal of Communion is a little painful.'
'Good luck,' said Ren'erei.
'Thank you.' She closed the door, lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. As she settled into the mana spectrum, searching for the spike that she would recognise as Denser, she prayed he was within her compass and, more importantly, that he would answer her at all.
She was not to be disappointed.
Chapter 13
Darrick faced down the angry Dordovan mage master in front of him. The young General hadn't slept, though his cavalry and mage charges had grabbed a few hours after arriving in the ruins of Greythorne in the middle of the night. Having overseen the picketing and feeding of the horses, he'd toured the ruins, resolving immediately to leave half of his four hundred cavalry to help the salvage effort, taking the balance on after a day's rest and assessment.
What he didn't need, with the stubble itching his chin, his eyes red and smarting and still wearing his riding garb, was the mage, Tendjorn, to disagree.
'These people need our help,' said Darrick. 'While you were resting, I was walking these streets. My decision stands.'
Tendjorn, not yet forty and with a flat, supercilious face, looked along his wide, veined nose from where he stood in the centre of Greythorne, clearly able to see the situation for himself.
'Your orders, if I'm not mistaken, General, are to support the forces now in and around Arlen and rendezvous with Vuldaroq on his arrival with your entire force. Our latest intelligence from Gorstan indicates we are close to finding the girl but will need to move fast. Ornouth is a long way and Xetesk and the Protectors are not far behind.'
'Open your tiny eyes, and see what I see, Tendjorn. I see a small town destroyed by a hurricane. And it was a hurricane that, by your own admission, was probably a result of Lyanna's awakening power.
'Now I understand your need to recapture her to stop all this but we have a duty as responsible ambassadors of magic to help those who have become innocent victims of whatever this actually is.'
Tendjorn smiled, a patronising gesture that sparked Darrick's anger, though he kept himself in check.
'General, I think you fail to fully understand the situation. This is not the end, though if we don't find the girl soon, it will be the beginning of the end. Every hour spent here is an hour wasted.'
'My decision stands and I would advise you to lower your voice next time you choose to utter such an insensitive remark. We do have the time.'
Tendjorn shook his head, his untidy dark hair flapping around his small round ears. 'I don't think so, General. Might I remind you-'