Blood of the Sea, Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter 37: Expansion

Astrophel

Gathering supplies for the trip didn’t involve all that much. Astrophel’s friends were quick to take over, planning to go up the cliff, and find a spot in which to settle. They all agreed it would be best to keep their packs light, to make progress and cover distance more quickly. Nox and Seri spent some time bent over a map of Farrah, the region they would carve their lives into, while Sulien and Dionne talked with the tribes about the plan. Khalil stayed with Astrophel, and he got the sense that his friend was worried he might be a flight risk. When asked about it, Khalil shook his head, saying, “It’s times like this when you need to know we'll always have your back.” Astrophel had left it at that, his heart warming over the care Khalil offered so freely.

Seri and Nox had a place in mind - somewhere high on the bluff overhead, overlooking the water, but also near the forest. Seri had found a place among the five, insisting she would come with them to help. No one had a reason to stop her; after all, she was more familiar with the continent than they.

Despite their reassurances, when they departed, Astrophel caught each of his friends casting long last-glances toward the ocean. He didn’t rub it in their faces, just as they hadn’t rubbed his late-night swim in his. Instead, he swallowed thickly, fighting his own urge to stare perpetually at the sea, and he urged Tore into the trees. The others moved to join him, Skai, Wind, and the other borrowed J’korun thundering across the beach at his back.

They wandered into the wilds of Farrah for the better part of a sennight. Each night, Astrophel lay awake, listening for the crash of the waves against the cliff. Some nights, sleep came easy. Others, he was stalked by nightmares: either a fathomless deep in which he could decipher neither up nor down, or swords drawn and pointed at his chest, or, worse, when he woke in a panic, imagining his friends bleeding out before him.

As their travels dragged on, the group fell gradually more silent. Nerves chewed at them, their mounts drawing on the restless energy and skittering about as the wind snaps through tree branches overhead. The mood dampened, growing somber and sour. Astrophel would feel the urge to offer for them to go back, to turn around, but he would meet the gaze of one of his friends, and despite their inner turmoil or the fatigue pulling at them, they would offer him a smile, and he would bite his tongue.

It was as Dionne had said back at the islands. You could only offer people the choice, you couldn’t take it away from them.

Eventually, the trees thin out. The wind blows salty and strong over the top of the bluff as Tore shoulders his way through the wind, Astrophel crouches over his neck as the J’korun trudges onward.. The trees to his left grow thick and snarled, following the line of the cliff, twisting toward the sea like figures hunched against the next incoming storm. With a fierce ache settling in his heart, Astrophel turns his J’korun away from the water - the chaos and the calm of the waves - and inland, toward a heaviness in his limbs and a creeping reluctance that settles like a collar around his neck. The six of them press on, following his lead without words.

The dim afternoon light struggles through the clouds, but all the same, it does illuminate where his path opens up into what at first might be thought of as a clearing, before Astrophel realizes that this is what Seri meant about the numerous grasslands of Farrah. The trees fall away the further his J’korun walks forward, his head lifting, ears pricked forward.

A cluster of rocks peek out of the ground like a long forgotten monument, or the remnants of the mountains the gods had formed. Distantly it reminds him of Asos; the ruined tower that offered him and his companions many days of shelter, and many more nights of memories. Gritting his teeth against the urge to go back to the cliffs and dig in there, Astrophel swings down from his mount, patting Tore on the shoulder, and walking toward the rocks. Behind him, the others dismount and their footsteps speak louder than words as they follow.

Upon reaching the rock pile, Astrophel picks up one roughly the size of his head. Hefting it, the rough stone sparks the nerve endings in his fingers: the grippy quality of the rock grounding, though in a way unlike the sensation of letting sand run through his fingers. Closing his eyes, he bows his head and searches for a sense of Eulla. A gust of wind buffets against his back, forcing him to take a step closer, his lead foot landing on another rock as his eyes fly open. Though the wind batters against his ears, in the soundless vacuum of nothing but the howl, he hears, softly, “Build.”

He turns to the others - his most faithful of friends - and as they look to him expectantly, he finally rewards them with a nod. Sulien cracks a tired smile; Khalil whoops, the sound muted in the overcast air; Nox crouches down to feel the dirt at their feet, and Dionne glances back toward the cliff behind them. She swallows hard, hugging herself and Astrophel can feel the same welling of despair sink into his skin. Seri, glancing around the open spot of land, seems satisfied, until her gaze falls on Astrophel and she leans into Dionne, hands finding the other woman’s arms as Seri’s face contorts into one of worry, and she tries to comfort the warrior. Dionne lets Seri wrap her arm around her, but her somber eyes remain fixed on Astrophel’s as he fights against his own tears blurring his vision. Behind the screen of pain-filled salt water, he sees a hazy outline of a great keep: a castle made after the fashion of the mainland, with the strength and training of his home. He squints his eyes shut, a wet trail marking a path down his cheek which the wind tries to brush away.

“I’m sorry, star-kissed. There is no other way.”

He opens his eyes and paces towards his friends, letting the stone in his hand fall to the earth once more. Here, with them, he thinks, I will make a home.