The first shafts of light from an early morning sun shot over the horizon. The light touched the haze of Seth's mind and caused him to rub his burning eyes. A dry yawn issued from his mouth, and then with one partially unclenched eye, he squinted toward the brightness.
It will be a clear day.
Seth both welcomed the sun's warmth to end the night's cold and feared its erosion of their bodies. For Seth, the days were longer than the nights and, upon reflection, he did indeed prefer the night despite the often-bitter cold.
Time passed. The sun seemed to wither and weaken Seth even more this day. The dryness and excruciating pain of his throat aroused him to its swelling—it was nearly swollen shut. He attempted to squeeze down a lump of dry, pasty spittle, and cried out in a muffled whimper as he did this.
So much water around me and none to drink.
Their small supply of fresh water was nearly exhausted and this was now the only concern in his frazzled mind. Sea water, it was all around him and he could drink none of it.
Why can it not rain, Father?
Still unconcerned for himself, Seth first touched a few precious drops of moisture to Galan's lips then covered her face and arms again with the tatters of his robe. He drank then, a little more than he should have, barely getting the drops to slide down his aching throat. He gave Bryan the last few drops the water bag contained.
Is it all for nothing, Father?
The day turned to night and back again to day. Seth felt the vitality within him ebb. His consciousness fell to total decay. He could no longer focus his will to maintain him, which frustrated him utterly. The forces of nature were all around him, yet he, Seth, First of the Red, could not touch them. He was losing himself and his center. Soon he would slip away to a peaceful bliss that he would have welcomed only a few short days ago.
He had struggled too long to give in, fought too hard to give up. Great Father, is that you? Have you come to gather me home? What did I do wrong?… I do not wish to go… I could not have stopped the ambush… I cannot fail. I must think. I must focus…
Adrina approached the low portcullis that separated thick walls midway along the castle's southerly bastion. She continued past it to the stables where a stately wagon was being prepared. The Lord and Lady Fraddylwicke had chased after her every step of the way from the inner courtyard to the wall, but neither the baroness' "Your Highness, please, the tea is ready," or the baron's "The wagon would have been ready in another hour," would slow her down.
Yesterday it had been the baron who had convinced Father Jacob that they should not leave the castle until this morning. It was true that by the time preparations had been made and they were ready to leave it was late afternoon, but there still had been a few hours of daylight left. What harm would a night in the swamp have brought?
This morning, the baroness was dead set on having tea after breakfast. Who drinks tea at daybreak?
Adrina cast a glum stare behind her. Father Jacob hurried along beside the baron and Adrina heard him again speaking an apology. "It seems we must leave at once on an urgent matter," Father Jacob was saying. "Please give the message I left for Captain Brodst as soon as he wakes. You have been most gracious hosts. His Majesty will surely hear of this."
"Raise the portcullis," Adrina screamed to the guards inside the gatehouse.
"The wagon is most splendid," Jacob said, seemingly to drown out Adrina's words.
No doubt, Lord Fraddylwicke had chosen the stately wagon with its four-horse team with clear purpose. Adrina knew this was meant as a symbol both of his wealth and of his generosity, which he hoped would be relayed to King Andrew. She didn't find it odd that she could so intensely dislike a man who she had only met yesterday evening.
Behind her, Adrina heard men shouting, she looked back to the outer courtyard to see a small contingent of foot soldiers mustering. Adrina stopped and whirled about to face the baron. "A gaggle of foot soldiers will only slow us down. We need the wagon and the provisions you promised, nothing more. Tell them to return to their duties."
"Your Highness, I must object," Baron Fraddylwicke said. "I must see to your protection. The swamp is no place for a lady such as yourself to be alone."
Adrina started respond, but Father Jacob spoke first. "He is right, Princess Adrina. It would be best to have an escort."
"Fine, if they are to come along, have them mount up. They can ride, yes?"
"I am afraid—" Adrina held her breath. The baron was fond of those three words. "—that the scant few animals that remain are ill-fit for riding. Your Captain Trendmore took every horse in Fraddylwicke. I told him I needed mounts for the King's messengers—you see, usually we trade out on a one-for-one basis—but he said he wanted them all and would keep his. Even sent men about the countryside. He left nary one behind. It is only by the grace of Great Father that my personal team remains."
Adrina started to say something but then realized that it was fortunate the baron had hidden the animals away. Her irritation with the pompous baron decreased. She bit her cheek. "That was a wise decision," she said, "my father, the King, will surely hear how you have helped me, for I will tell him personally. The foot soldiers stay here, however."
Baron Fraddylwicke's face suddenly seemed to glow and the baroness touched her kerchief to her eye. "As you wish," the baron said.
Father Jacob nodded approval and helped Adrina climb into the wagon.
The sun was midway in the sky before Seth finally came back from the endless world of gray delirium and dream. Visions of ships sinking into the dark, waiting waters that surrounded him even now, slowly fell from his eyes. It seems so much needless loss.
A light breeze played soothingly across Seth's tormented skin. Hidden behind a murky cloudbank a pale sun looked so distant and harmless, yet its ill effects had whittled away his body and his strength slowly and effectively.
Rain may come, Seth mused. If rain came, it may just save them. Then again, the storm unleashed with the rains could drown them just as easily.
Hours diminished to the slow pace of the passing of minutes as time slowly plodded on in agonizing increments of seconds and heartbeats. Ignoring the hunger pains in his clenched and swollen stomach, the brittle dryness of his lips, and the tremendous aching of his brutalized body, Seth attempted to center his thoughts.
He knew somewhere in his teachings there must be an answer to their dilemma. He searched the indexes of his mind. A wish sprang to the fore, a wish that he had learned more about seamanship from Cagan, the crafty sea captain whom he had known since childhood and who since his childhood had commanded the Queen's own fleet. Such learning would have proven a worthwhile investment, yet then he had not had time for such foolish endeavors.
Seth felt a faint prick of pain in his mind. He strained to focus his thoughts. As he did this, sadness swept over him and in an unexplainable way Seth knew something was wrong. Is someone in my thoughts?
A gentle whisper entered Seth's mind.
Yes? he answered.
If I told you I was afraid, what would you say? asked Galan.
Seth reached out for Galan's hand and took it in his. We all have our fears, Brother Galan. It is not wrong to fear what we do not know.
I fear death, returned Galan sending feelings of hopelessness along with the words. I fear in death I will find only longing and emptiness.
Great Father will not forsake—Seth felt another prick of pain in his mind. Is that you, Brother Galan?
The voice nearly inaudible in their minds and edged with bitterness was Bryan's. You are wrong. For those who have failed, there can be no joy in the next life.
Seth disagreed. While blood courses through your veins it tells you that you live.
I died long ago, returned Bryan.
Bryan's sadness flowed strongly to Seth. It encompassed him and the whole of their bantam raft. Seth felt pain again. What are you doing in my thoughts?
I'm dying Seth.
Dying? Seth wheeled about the raft wildly. Frantically he searched for the precious water bag. His aim was to pour its every drop down Bryan's throat in the desperate hope that it alone would keep him. It was then Seth remembered they had no more water. He had used the last of it.
No Brother, said Seth. It is not time, it is not your time! You must hold strong. You cannot desert us. We need you. I need you. There is so much, so very much…
Bryan didn't or couldn't answer.
Seth's eyes flashed to his wrists. The blood coursing through his veins gave him life; it would give Bryan life.
Go ahead Seth, whispered the voice, Bryan's voice in his mind. Two must live. It is your fault I die. You owe me your life. You bring shame and dishonor to our kind.
Paralyzing anguish shot through Seth's mind. Galan told him No, Seth, it is his time. Our time is yet to be destined.
Galan cried out in pain. Hands suddenly gripped Seth's throat. Bryan, what are you doing? Remember, you pulled me from the water; you saved my life. Galan, he's choking… me. Bryan, are you mad?
Bryan squeezed harder. You still don't understand.
The hands still at his throat, Seth struggled wildly to his knees. Galan made her move and hit Bryan from the side.
Seth found Bryan unexpectedly strong and only with Galan's help was he able to break the hands from his throat. Together, wobbly and barely able to keep their feet, Seth and Galan fended off Bryan's blows. Seth ducked to dodge a blow. Galan lunged at Bryan, and knocked him off his feet. Together they fell into the sea.
Seth let out a high-pitched cry of anguish. He scrambled to the edge of the raft.
Galan and Bryan broke the surface. They were still struggling. On his belly now, Seth reached out to Galan. He felt the tip of her fingers touch his.
Bryan pulled Galan under with him for what seemed the final time. Seth lay still. He stared into the dark waters through red and burning eyes. Despair ravaged his heart.