The Bloodheart
Page 24
Niall is again Niall. He jokes more, teases and chides the crew. We laugh aloud about our adventures and drink—often far too much and far too late into the night—to new journeys ahead.
Only in the early morn, when the pink first touches the rim of the velvet blue sky, do I see what he’s holding at bay. When he stands alone at the bowsprit, arm on the rigging, hair and cloak blown in the wind, he crades an arrow in the other hand. Plainly clear around his neck is a copper pendant. Sealed within are two while feathers, pressed in glass.
Six months ago he made a request of me, as only an old friend could do. I promised to fulfill it.
Today, I will.
Every morning, I wake and give thanks for my friend Niall, my wife Vesna, for the new life growing within her with which we have been blessed, for my new crew and for this ship.
A yip breaks through my reverie. The pup barrels down the deck, chasing after a pair of sparrows that have hidden in the sails. He’s short, stocky little ball of white and black fur, keen gray eyes. The birds veer off into the sky, and the pup is almost off the edge with them. His claws scrabble at the wood. He catches himself. Barks madly, tongue lolling, and happy as any four-footed beast can be aboard.
“Thomas! Come!” I whistle for him.
He sprints to me, running under my cloak. He barks rapidly, rubs against my leg, and yelps again.
“Nuisance having a hound on board!” Niall slides down the rigging.
“Yes, it is, having two of them again!” I holler.
“If you children are quite finished, we’re near our port of call,” Vesna says.
Niall grins. “Oh, yes. I saw.”
The isles appear from behind a thick bank of cottony clouds. There are dozens of them—flat and wide covered with rolling green hills, tall spires of gray rock with mossy outcroppings. Buildings are strewn here and there with smoke curling from brick chimneys. Above those, people flying—angels on the wing.
Ariya’s people. The Aevorn.
Niall yells with joy. He claps me on the shoulder.
“We’ll tell them of her bravery, Niall, and deliver the silver she’s earned to her nest,” I say.
There’s more than that to deliver. You see, Evan was right about a great many things. So was Cassia. Amidst the ruin of Jasna Góra I found the old story of one life given so that all may become eternal. I stand faithful and forgiven.
I twist the rise-wheel and take us up. Northwind pounces on the currents. We’ll soon arrive to pay homage to friends lost and new lives found.
In that moment, after long days and months absent, ice pricks my fingers.
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