Each wave gleamed with the radiating sunlight. Farek had not noticed such things when they had escaped from Saanazar. He had watched the pirate fleet bearing down on the fishing vessels and had joined in the flock of citizens fleeing into the countryside. As he sat, now, on a ship heading west, he dangled his feet over the side of the ship and reflected on what might have been his darkest hour.
Ralla, seeing him alive again after all this time, had asked if he would shave the tangled beard he had grown. He had told her he would keep it as a disguise—perhaps that was part of the truth. Another part of him was ashamed. He did not want anyone to see the face of the valiant Lord Gallendris…fleeing from Saanazar as the real enemy arrived. He was weak still, and only the drink seemed to keep the pain at bay.
He was doing better—he had been doing better ever since Matek had found him, that day, at the Black Tooth Tavern. He had resolved to pursue Diaren and the others back to Soros, though Matek and he were at least a full month behind them.
His vengeance against the Matriarchs had nearly overruled what remained of his rational thinking. After seeing the fleet closing in on Saanazar, Farek knew he had made the right choice. As much as Matriarch Valakono and her apparently newly-appointed peers deserved punishment for the madness they had wrought upon Farek’s life, pursuing such an end now would only divide an Empire on the brink of war. Even then, a part of Farek was ready to say “let it burn” to the whole Noressi endeavor.
But his sisters were still on the Isle of Var Nordos—and they were likely still targets of the Matriarchs. They could already have been killed, but Farek couldn’t let himself think like that.
“May I join you?” a voice asked, interrupting Farek’s reverie. It was Matek again. He sat down next to Farek without waiting for an answer, putting one of the rails between himself and the gleaming waves below the ship’s hull.
Farek looked at his old friend sourly. “Am I sailing the wrong way?” he asked. “My sisters are only two, while there are thousands at the mercy—”
The one-eyed guard lifted a hand to shush his master. “You can’t think that way. You need a few months of training before you can handle yourself in a fight, so what are you going to do in Saanazar?”
“A few months of training, eh?” Farek was surprised by the bubble of his long-lost sarcasm. Teases and taunts shared with his friends had always been his style, but that seemed like another life now.
Matek smirked at the quip, but then shrugged. “Prove me wrong,” he said.
“Matek…” Farek sighed. “Another time.”
Again, his guard shrugged. After a moment, Matek climbed back up and went off to see if the Captain needed anything else. They were—as much as they were able—working for their passage aboard the vessel.
Farek continued to mull over the choice he had made. He had never really had to choose who to save before—not like he had this time.
A few days later, the ship would finish its crossing of Tieko’s Deep and would find a fishing village on the coast of West Radregar to drop anchor. From there, Farek, Matek, and Ralla would charter passage to Sheld with any sailor or fisher they could convince to take them. Failing that, they would walk.