Save for Thorgrim, everyone was, and Oschu announced himself fit to carry the sick man all the way to the camp. I hoped there was a camp. I wondered if the others had found anything to burn on a fire, and whether they had managed to catch some fish. Suddenly, it seemed a very long time since I had eaten. As we set off over the rocks, I turned my head to see the creature swim powerfully out into deeper water and disappear below the surface.

No songs now. Even the strongest men must have been exhausted, and the way was difficult despite the moonlight. The distance was not so long, but the pace was slow. The patch of pebbly beach where we had first come ashore seemed the only such place on this side of the bay. We clambered over heaps of stones that lay holus-bolus like the remnant of a giant’s juggling game. We picked a route through narrow chinks in what at first seemed impenetrable buttresses of rock. I walked beside Felix. From time to time we brushed against each other, not quite by accident. Once or twice I looked up and found his eyes on me, and what was in them filled me with joy and sorrow both at once. Sometimes I watched him without his being aware of it. I found myself memorizing his features, the strong jaw, the straight nose, the chestnut hair, pleasing even in its current salt-crusted, unkempt state, the deep lake-blue eyes, like those of a sage in an old tale . . . And when he looked up and saw me watching, he smiled.

“We’re nearly there, Sibeal,” he said.

I nodded, but said nothing. Nearly there. Nearly at the end of the quest. Nearly at the point where, one way or the other, my heart would surely break.

~Felix~

Gareth and his companions have made a fire. We see it as we approach along the shore, a welcome sign of warmth and life. I do not realize until this moment how cold and wet I am, shivering and weary. Something beyond my own frail body has carried me to this point. Soon the mission will be done, and whatever it was—inspiration, compulsion—will be gone. For a brief time, I have been more than an ordinary man. Soon I will be myself again. But not my old self. This has changed me. I think it has changed us all.

When they see that Gull and I are with the others, the men who have stayed behind shout greetings and run to meet us, helping to bring the three survivors in to the fireside. They have found driftwood to burn. A good supply stands neatly stacked, ready for use. I smell fish cooking.