Oh, the waves

"If there was one place I could be right now, it would definitely not be this one!" Yennefer exclaims in a hushed tone of voice, utterly disgusted at the sight of her left shoulder where the dress is speckled with whitish goo. Seagull excrement, that is exactly what was missing to make this shittiest of days even shittier. First she has to sleep in this sorry excuse of a hide-out in an extremely uncomfortable sitting position leaving her all cramped and clammy from the rain-moist, uneven rock walls, and embarrassingly close to a man, a Nilfgaardian to boot, who has not properly washed, shaved or changed his clothes for weeks. Then she is woken up not only once but twice by said Nilfgaardian having a nightmare about a witcher beheading him instead of a werewolf - or at least that's what she inferred from his agitated muttering and mumbling. Having just narrowly escaped his execution, the idiot should probably not be telling stories, fairy tale or not, involving the chopping off of heads, no matter whether monster or human. And now THIS. She plucks a hand full of wet moss that is growing abundantly in the cracks in the rock and wipes at the offending substance covering her dress with a vengeance only to leave green stains on the expensive silver-grey fabric. Fuck. Of course, it has started to rain again, too.

"It'll soon be dark enough for us to make for the bridge. No more than an hour till nightfall." Cahir's low, husky voice so close to her ear gives Yennefer goosebumps yet again. Or is it the damp chill that has settled deep in her bones? Or, perhaps, the uncertainty and doubt as to the outcome of their helter-skelter escape?

"What after the bridge?" she inquires, voicing her anxious thoughts. "How do you propose we get through the city gate once we make it across? The guards there will be looking for us, and certainly not to give us a warm welcome."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"You don't say. And there I thought commander generals were all about meticulously planning and plotting and long-term strategy."

"That would require detailed intelligence. Which we don't have."

"While you might be lacking intelligence," Yennefer says with a smirk at her own play of words. "I am not. And my intelligence tells me that nobody in their right mind is looking for us in this shitty weather, nor is anybody going to be running into us by accident as everybody is at home sitting cosily around the fireplace with a nice cup of cream tea with scones and enjoying themselves." Yearning for a warm cup of tea herself, Yennefer sighs, then gets up from her cramped sitting position with a groan, stretches her aching back and neck and looks out of the crevice. There is not a human soul to be seen. No seals either, probably because this beach is too close to human dwellings. Only a lone seagull is hopping along the water's edge despite the intensifying rain, picking for crabs and other small animals between the various reddish brown algae deposited there.

"See? Nobody here. Let's go!"

As the sorceress is probably right, Cahir does not object for once but rises to his feet, quietly cursing under his breath at the flare of dull pain in his ankle, the long nightly hike and the awkward sleeping position not having done it any favours. Limping slightly and almost instantly soaked to the bone, he wordlessly follows the equally drenched witch through the pouring rain.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The next beach is the last one, the black shadow of the ancient stone bridge looming above it in the falling darkness of the night. The rain has stopped by now, but black clouds douse any hope of a clear and starry sky. Which is not a bad thing for once as it makes it easier for the fugitives to sneak up the slippery flight of stairs made of roughly cut stones that leads from the beach to Loxia Palace, its buildings comprising the huge reception complex for clients and visitors of Thanedd Island. The massive guard house belonging to this complex is situated directly in front of the bridge thus effectively blocking any unauthorised access to the single one connection with the mainland, the only thoroughfare being a heavy, oak and iron gate.

As they are neither clients nor visitors, the two unlikely companions sneak closer to their interim destination cautiously hiding in the dark shadows of walls and buildings.

"Damn!" Cahir swears under his breath when they are close enough to take in more details. "There are too many soldiers guarding the bridge!"

Yennefer can discern five heavily armed and armoured men standing around a brazier placed by the firmly closed and bolted iron gate, the light of the flickering fire reflecting on their golden breast plates embossed with the Temerian lilies. Judging from the noise, there are at least another five soldiers inside the guard house playing at cards or dice. Impossible to sneak past them and through the gate undetected. Fighting their way to the gate is equally out of the question. Even with appropriate weapons it would be suicide. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"What the hell went wrong?" the sorceress hisses, her eyes fixed on the soldiers as if willing to evaporate them. Of course, the best laid plans - she ought to have known.

"Your seal friends. Didn't wait long enough, obviously."

"And what do we do now? There's no way I'm going back!"

"We swim," Cahir decides. "They won't spot us in the dark. You do know how to swim, don't you?"

"Swim? Across the bay?" Although Yennefer can swim, this sounds like a truly crazy idea considering the distance, not to mention the cold or the fact that she hasn't eaten anything in how many days? Five? Six? A week? She is so shocked by Cahir's suggestion that she forcefully has to suppress the urge to scream at him. Which would, no doubt, lead to them being arrested. "Now you are mental!" she hisses under her breath instead. "I'm not a fucking mermaid!"

"We'll swim from one abutment to the next" he explains, ignoring the insult. "We can rest whenever we need to. There's plenty of time before dawn."

"In a long dress?" Yennefer asks disbelievingly, incredulous at the fact that the man actually seems to be serious.

"Do you have a better idea? No?" He stares at her with those unsettlingly intense eyes of his and Yennefer has to look down as, unfortunately, she hasn't. "That's what I thought. You can always take off the dress, too."

"And drag it behind me between my fucking teeth?"

"Do all mages have so little imagination?" Cahir rolls his eyes. "Oh, of course, you don't need any, I suppose. You can just conjure up everything you want."

Not elaborating any further, he turns around and starts to retrace their steps without another look at her, obviously trusting that she will follow. Which she does, of sheer necessity. What else can she do?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Back on the beach, Cahir seems to look around for something, what it could possibly be, though, eludes the sorceress. Does the man actually have a plan, she wonders fleetingly, or is he just making things up as he goes? Presumably a little of both.

By now, the clouds have dispersed enough to let some rays of pale moonlight filter through and, combined with the faint light coming from the windows of Loxia Palace, it is possible to discern rough shapes and forms. The Nilfgaardian hunkers down and examines something that is lying in the sand. Obviously satisfied with what he has found, he grabs the oblong object with both hands, lifts it and carries it over to where the sorceress is waiting.

"Here, we can tie our stuff to the plank with my belt. I'll push it across." Saying that, he takes off his boots and starts to strip out of his wet shirt. "What are you waiting for?" he then inquires impatiently when the witch does not follow his example.

"What if you lose it?" Yennefer asks, not at all comfortable with the thought of committing her only dress to a piece of driftwood. "This is not a fish pond. There's a strong current, and waves!"

"Then I will see you in your underwear come dawn, I suppose."

"You wish!"

"Bollocks to your waves," he then dismisses her fears with a snort. "I won't lose it as I'm not eager to walk the streets of Gors Velen in my underpants either."

The Nilfgaardian has a point there. Moreover, he sounds so convinced of himself and his abilities that he must be an extraordinarily good swimmer. Or extraordinarily foolhardy and conceited. A possibility which Yennefer cannot totally rule out, but strangely enough, she finds herself trusting the knight's assessment.

"All right, let's do this." Having made up her mind, Yennefer walks a few metres away from her companion and is now standing under the high arch of the bridge where it is even darker. "Whatever you do, don't turn round," she orders and starts to untie her belt. The buttons of her dress are a lot more difficult but with a considerable amount of wriggling and twisting she finally manages to open them one by one.

"Are you done yet?" In spite of his slightly suggestive remark from just a few minutes ago, Cahir is obviously obeying her order, otherwise he would have seen that she is indeed done with the dress and standing there in nothing but her bra and panties. Blessed be galantry and knightly honour which even seem to exist in bloody Nilfgaard. Knowing it is no less than perfect, the sorceress is not usually shy about showing her body. She just does not exactly feel like letting a filthy Nilfgaardian glimpse any of its splendour. Not now, not ever. Not that the man would be able to see a lot of her in the darkness anyway. However, before he gets the chance to think twice, turn around and find out for himself, or she gets the chance to think twice about this crazy plan of his, Yennefer leaps into the water with a splash and starts swimming toward the abutment opposite her.

The water is cold, but not as shockingly cold as expected probably due to the circumstance that she has not felt even remotely close to warm all day in her rain-drenched dress. The current is far from strong here and the waves hardly more than tiny ripples. Suddenly feeling fairly optimistic about their secretive nightly endeavour and smiling at the thought of finally leaving the accursed island behind her for good, Yennefer swims on doing the breaststroke until, after a few minutes, she reaches the basis of the broad stone pillar. That wasn't too bad. Only six or seven more until they'll reach the small island for a break, and then about a dozen till Gors Velen. Maybe Cahir's idea isn't that insane after all. However wide and deep and far, they have a good chance to actually make it.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

By the time they reach the island, Yennefer is not quite as sure anymore. On the one hand she is so exhausted that she aches to flop down on the narrow beach and sleep for at least a hundred years. On the other hand, though, she is so cold that she has to keep moving as not to freeze to death. If they could only light the smallest of fires, or had a woolen blanket, a tiny towel. Her teeth are chattering loudly in the silence of the night as she half jogs, half stumbles along the beach next to the Nilfgaardian to get to the other side of the island. However, when they reach the tip of the island, her legs give way and, shivering, she collapses into the sand. To her great relief, Cahir sits down next to her although he, being indeed a strong swimmer, does not seem particularly tired.

"Come here." His teeth are chattering a lot less than hers, too. "You are of no use to me frozen stiff." He puts an arm around her shoulder und she, far too cold and tired to care, lets him pull her closer. Then he starts to systematically rub first her ice-cold arms, then her feet and legs until life slowly returns to her limbs and she ceases shivering. Feeling a lot better already, Yennefer snuggles up to the Nilfgaardian for warmth as closely as physically possible and shuts her eyes. She could easily fall asleep like this, maybe not for a hundred years, but certainly for a few hours.

Unfortunately, Cahir seems to have other ideas. After what feels like only minutes he gets up, waking her in the process.

"Sorry," he apologises. "You go back to sleep. I'll find us something to eat."

Something to eat. That sounds like an excellent idea. Too good to be true. She is probably still dreaming. Although a steaming bowl of chicken-broth would be nice. She'd give an arm and a leg for one. There aren't chickens living on this island by any chance? But then, they cannot possibly make a fire. Anyhow, she can almost taste it on her tongue, and there are some birdlike sounds in the distance ...

"Yennefer?" Cahir lightly shaking her by the shoulder wakes her up from a delicious dream that has made her stomach rumble and her mouth water. "Care for a seagull egg?"

It is not exactly what she was dreaming about and definitely not something she would want to eat on a daily basis, but, after the many days of fasting, the raw egg definitely helps revive Yennefer's spirits and restore some of her strength. There even is a second one for each of them. Feeling so much better after the unexpected meal, Yennefer suddenly starts to giggle.

"What?" Cahir asks, surprised.

"They aren't black."

"What are you talking about?"

"Your braies. They aren't black."

"Not everything in Nilfgaard is." He stands up. "Let's get going. Must be way past midnight."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

After having covered less than half the distance from the island to the harbour of Gors Velen, Yennefer feels dreadfully cold again and exhaustion is slowly setting in. What is even worse, the waves are considerably higher now and the current much stronger. She really has to fight and struggle against it to reach the next abutment. Which leaves her weary and winded. Gasping for breath, she holds onto the stone pillar for several minutes.

"Ready to go on, or do you need a longer break?" Cahir, who has been swimming behind her pushing the plank with their clothes, asks, obviously concerned. After all, as this was his idea, it will be his fault if she drowns.

"N-No, I-I'm good." Although she feels far from good, extending the break will only make her feel even colder. And the sooner they get out of the water, the better, she reasons. However, when they are half-way between the abutments where the current, naturally, is strongest, Yennefer starts to panic as her arms and legs feel more and more like lead and she has increasing difficulty keeping her head above the waves, causing her to repeatedly swallow salty sea water.

"The current is too strong! It'll drag us out into the open ocean!" she cries frantically, then coughs as she gulps down more water, the waves made of fingers crashing into her face, clutching at her, dragging her down. She swallows more water as her head sinks below the surface. When it bobs up again and she gasps for air, Cahir is by her side.

"Here, grab the plank!" It is not big enough to keep her afloat all by itself, but it helps to cling to something. Especially since Cahir pushes it, and her with it, against the current and toward the abutment with powerful strokes of his arms.

"I know you're strong enough to do this," he pants while fighting against the current. "You beat an entire army!"

True, she did. His army. With fire. When she still had her chaos. But even without her magic she cannot give up so easily. The Brotherhood will not triumph. Stregobor, Vilgefortz, she is going to show them, all of them. She is destined to survive! Invigorated by her hate of the Brotherhood and her own resolve, Yennefer manages to overcome her panic and exhaustion, at least for the moment, wrests back control of her limbs and starts to make swimming motions again. And that is all that is needed for them to cross the distance to the opposite abutment.

This time, they both need more than a few minutes to recover their breath and enough strength to set out on the next segment of their long swim. With Cahir's unwavering support and clinging to the plank for her bare life, Yennefer braves both the high waves and dangerous current once again. And again, every abutment they leave behind bringing them closer to the shore, to safety, at least a temporary one. Her entire world seeming to consist of nothing but cold, darkness, fatigue and fear, she has long lost track of time, of how many of the stone pillars they have already passed while fighting for no less than their survival and their freedom. Then, when she is so exhausted and cold that she is close to giving in to a new bout of panic, the current suddenly weakens and the waves calm down. She looks up. And sees the lights of Gors Velen, not far in the distance but almost within her grasp. The more than welcome sight makes her heart sing. They will make it. Not long now, not far. Just keep swimming. Almost there. Almost.

By the time they finally reach the harbour, the bay lies still like a black mirror, its smooth surface reflecting the silvery light of the waning moon. Utterly spent, the two fugitives drag themselves onto a narrow strip of sand between two piers and, for a few minutes, just lie there panting and shivering and hardly aware of their surroundings. Lucky for them, this is not the busiest part of the harbour and there are no late night - or rather early morning - strollers around, nor any fishermen returning with their nightly catch.

"Yennefer?" Cahir is the first to recover. He sits up and scrutinises the vicinity as thoroughly as possible in the darkness. "We need to go. Yennefer?"

"Not yet," she mumbles into the sand ready to fall asleep right here and now.

"Yennefer!" Cahir shakes her by the shoulder. "We have to find a place to hide! The sun will rise soon. We cannot be seen here. In nothing but our underwear!"

"Right," she murmurs, the reminder that she is almost naked finally waking her up to some degree. Slowly she manoeuvres herself into a sitting position. "Before we go though, promise me one thing. Let's not do this again. Ever."

"Agreed." Cahir grabs the plank that is lying next to him, unbuckles his belt, untangles their clothes and passes Yennefer her dress. She wrings it out as thoroughly as possible and then slips it over her head. It is still fairly wet and chillingly cold, but at least she does not feel so exceedingly exposed anymore.

In the shadow of the city wall they walk along the harbour for a while evading the few people who are still - or already - awake, which is quite easy in the darkness, and look for an old shed or anything that might serve as a temporary hiding place. However, they find nothing remotely suitable. Neither is it possible to get into the city as there is no opening whatsoever in the high wall. Except, of course, for the official gate. Which is closed and guarded and far too risky to try. Finally they decide to hide on a boat and sleep in turns in case the owner shows up and they need to make a run for it. They board the next best one that is anchored somewhat away from the others, climb down the ladder to go below and tiredly flop down on the wooden planks that make up the floor. Leaning against some spare rigging and coils of rope, they make themselves as comfortable as possible. It definitely is an improvement in comparison to their last hideout. At least it is dry here and, although it is not a big boat, there is enough space to stretch out their aching legs. The boat smells of fish and sea, but not unpleasantly so, and rocks gently on the friendly harbour waves. Which makes it impossible for the two fugitives to stick to their plan.

Bone-weary as they are, they both are fast asleep only moments after hitting the floor.