Beyond a Darkened Shore(75)
The men who’d slept on the ships now made the final preparations. I watched as two men wrestled with a massive wooden cage full of ravens, and my eyebrows drew together.
“Surely we won’t be eating those,” I called out to one of the men. The birds quieted at the sound of my voice, their eyes trained on me as one. It was eerie, but not in a threatening way.
The man glanced down at the cage before looking back at me. “We bring them to be sure we’re staying close to land.”
His words made a quiver of anxiety run through me. Soon we would be at the mercy of the open waters. The man carried the cage to the largest ship, and it was in the light of day that I realized there were distinct differences. The largest, which I recognized as Leif’s, had a prow that was so ornately carved it was almost beautiful. From a distance, all I’d seen was the gaping maw of the dragon, but up close, I could see the knotwork so lovingly carved. The sail had not yet been raised, but I knew it to be white with a bloodred skeletal dragon insignia. I only hoped it would strike fear in the hearts of the j?tnar who saw it bearing down on them, as it had in mine when I saw it appear along the coast of éirinn.
Beside Leif’s ship was another that was shorter by at least twenty feet, but much wider and sturdier. Onto this ship the men led various livestock, including many warhorses taken from the former king’s stables. Tarpaulins were secured in the middle, providing a semblance of shelter for the animals.
“I hadn’t realized you Northmen had different types of ships.”
Arin gave me that same look of surprise he always did when I showed my ignorance of his people. “You thought we only had the longships? But how would merchants transport goods or livestock?”
He had a point, of course. “Then that ship there”—I pointed to the one animals were being loaded onto—“is a merchant ship?”
He nodded. “We call it a knarr. The rest are longships, but Leif’s is the largest, with room enough for thirty-two to row.”
Just then hooves thudding dully on the quay alerted me to the approach of someone, and as I turned, I saw Leif with my army following. My army marched slowly but steadily until they reached the quay. I watched as one by one, they stood at attention, awaiting my command.
Leif guided Abrax until he was level with Sleipnir. Arin took one look at his brother and suddenly developed a fascination with untying a knotted rope far across the quay from us. I stood my ground as emotions warred within me: anger and frustration over his stupidity in trading his own life, but also that burst of joy I had whenever I saw him now. I tried not to drink in the sight of him, but I shamed myself by staring at him like someone dying of thirst stares at fresh water. How could I lose him? He dismounted, and I did the same. “You never returned,” he said, his expression guarded.
I tried to hold on to my anger, and I wove it around me like a shield against the hurt in his eyes. “I had to gather men who would stay behind. Dubhlinn cannot be left undefended.”
He moved closer to me, until I could feel the heat radiating from his body. “You ran away.”
“You told me you’d be dead at the end of this,” I said, unable to keep the anger from my voice. “All this time, we’ve been together, and you fail to tell me we might defeat the giants only for you to lose your life. You didn’t think it was something I should know?”
A muscle in Leif’s jaw twitched, and I couldn’t tell whether he was as angry as I was, or hurt. “It’s always been my burden to bear. I’ve thought of telling you many times, but always I decided not to. What difference would it have made? But last night, that all changed when . . .” He trailed off for a moment. “When I thought we’d do more than sleep. When I thought we meant more to each other. And when I did tell you, you left in the middle of the night without another word.”
I flushed. “I was angry, Leif. I’m still angry—both that you would do such a thing and that you let me grow to care for you as much as I do.” I swallowed hard as emotions threatened to boil up again; I hadn’t cried when I was exiled, and I refused to cry now. I looked into his eyes and saw the hurt I felt mirrored back at me, and suddenly, I realized being angry at Leif was pointless. He’d made his decision long before me, and there was more at stake now than just our relationship and feelings for each other. I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity. “But I shouldn’t have left. I couldn’t bear to face it. I still can’t.”
He reached out and took my hand, his own warm and strong. “You care for me too?” he asked, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. I shoved his chest with one hand but didn’t let go with the other.
“I thought it was obvious. And now that we both know that, how can we go on when your life is forfeit at the end of all of this?”
His expression reflected the sorrow I felt. “We will go on as we always have—together. Either one of us can die at any point during this quest we’ve taken on; pushing each other away won’t make that any easier to bear, and the result would still be the same.” He tilted my chin up to look at him. “We’re stronger together, Ciara.”
“Then don’t die,” I said, my voice a whisper of pain. “There must be a way to change your fate.”
“I made a choice before I ever even met you, but if it helps, I do feel sorry for it now. I would do it again to avenge my sister, you must understand, but I’m sorry for it.”