CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE END OF A VOYAGE
The sea was vast and the voyage hard. I wish I could say that all the ships that set out from Mobliz reached the shores of Narshe, but there were tempests and squalls, and more than a few sunk beneath the waves. More than a few sailors perished too, before they could be rescued by the other ships. One such lost seaman was Calogrent's friend Kaye, whose death grieved him sorely.
The ardor with which the men of Mobliz had taken to the sea slackened, and there were groans and grievances, threats of mutiny (which turned out to be empty), and whispers of turning back. And indeed, it seemed to Terra not all the ships that failed to finish the voyage could be accounted for by shipwreck.
Needless to say, their hearts were heavy, though many held fast, perhaps because when they searched for hope among the merciless waves, their eyes fell on the lead ship and thought of Terra, and were comforted. She hoped so—not for her glory, but for their sake.
But at last they caught a tailwind, and, bearing north-northwest, the fleet rode it out until they saw the snowy peaks of mountains rise up out of the sea. Upon reaching the mountainous coast, they kept it on the portside and continued north. At points the sea cliffs were sheer, and cast a dreadful shadow over the fleet when the sun sank in the evening. In the twilight, the shadows made ominous shapes of the rocks and tricked the mind with visions of ugly giants and trolls, scowling upon the errant ships. Their chins were cut out of the rock, where centuries of waves perhaps wore away and loosened great quantities of stone.
"The men are frightened," scoffed Edgar to Terra one evening, as they stood on deck looking at the rocks. "They think there are giants among the rocks, caught and frozen by the sight of dawn. They're afraid they'll wake up at dark and hurl boulders at us."
"Perhaps there are," replied Terra, playing the advocate.
Edgar smiled. "You don't really think so, do you, my dear? It's just a trick of light and shadow."
"No, I don't think there are giants. But I don't have any reason not to, other than that such shadows haven't turned out to be giants before. But that doesn't prove anything. If at night you see something that looks like a snake and a hundred times turns out to be a stick, that doesn't mean that the hundred and first won't be a real snake. All that proves is that there are more sticks than snakes."
"True," said Edgar.
"And even if there are no giants, that doesn't mean that these shapes aren't meant as warnings," Terra went on, taking a more serious position.
"'Meant'? Meant by whom? Surely no man could climb those perilous cliffs—and to what purpose? To ward off ships from landing where it is impossible to land and where no one lives?"
"No, surely not men."
"The gods, then?" said Edgar, not without sarcasm.
"Why not?" replied Terra.
"Because, for all we know, we could be the first to ever see these cliffs at this time of day and in this season. Few ships travel this way. No, my dear, I'm sure that if we better understood the effects of wind and rain over time, we'd find perfectly natural causes for this phenomena."
"I'm sure we would. But what does that prove? Even if we could trace the natural causes of them doesn't prove that the gods didn't intend the rocks to be a warning to us. In the same way, if one understood all the principles of natural philosophy at work at the moment when a man shot an arrow, and if the arrow hit the target, one wouldn't have thereby proved that it happened by chance.
"The gods are said to be infinitely wise. Isn't it possible that, when Middan Erd was created, such care was taken in its making that we would see grim faces in the rocks thousands or hundreds of thousands of years later?"
Edgar looked surprised and delighted. "Where did you get this learning, my dear?" he said.
"I don't know," she replied. She had a serious interest in the argument. She must have been well-educated, but her zeal came from another source. She felt that its roots went down deep, and experienced a sensation somewhat similar to that which accompanied her using magic (though without the apprehension).
"But surely you don't think there is anything in these illusions?" Edgar pursued.
"No, I'm not certain there is," said Terra. "I only object to your certainty that there isn't."
Edgar didn't appear to be as interested in the argument as he was in her. Wisdom in a woman was something attractive to him. Terra didn't know what to think about that, nor about how lightly he seemed to take matters of philosophy. That perhaps was part of Terra's problem with him: he seemed to take serious matters lightly, and light matters seriously.
At any rate, they passed the cliffs without incident. The Returners sailed on, following the rim of the coast, which over the course of many months turned westward. All this time winter was progressing, and their northerly voyage led them into icy waters. The deck was blanketed in snow, and when Terra sat above-deck she was wrapped in a thick, white bear-fur. At last they left the open sea for a serpentine, inland river; between two endless mountain ranges; wide enough at its narrowest for two small ships to sail abreast; where, no doubt, some gigantic glacier made his winding way to the sea.
Often the wind was against them, as was the current, and the men had to row themselves to exhaustion and then drop anchor. They looked at Terra as if she were to blame, though if she had any power over the wind she didn't know it. Terra prayed for favorable winds, and sometimes it seemed to work, though she didn't feel Dread—at least no more than then than at another time. For now, the closer they got to Narshe, the more Terra felt the Approach of Her-Whom-She-Dare-Not-Meet. It became clear to her now, or she only just realized it, that this fearful feminine entity was a different thing than the Narshan Esper. She was near or inside; He was far away. She threatened to crush Terra's soul; He threatened to destroy her body. He possessed a shape, whereas She had yet to be given a form.
The fear of encountering these Beings, of certain knowledge of Arvis' fate, and perhaps Locke's, of imminent battle, and of fatal events and revelations—all these converging elements, swirling in the Chaos of Terra's ignorance, and growing ever larger on the horizon of her mind, filled her with anxiety. But governing all was courage—courage and wisdom, born over the course of her journey, which began in flight a twelvemonth and more from Narshe.
Narshe! How Terra feared you without knowing the reason, and how she, armed with might and power, now returns to you from whom she fled in weakness. How great are the events that unfolded upon that unlikely stage, and how little the players knew the weight of them, and Who was watching with divine vigilance. Narshe! Mountain-city, snow-dwellers, let Him Who gives men wit aid me in the telling of what passed within the white limits of your districts.
Terra's heart beat audibly when she stepped ashore, wrapped in her thick mantle. The snow reached her knees. It fell in feathery, slow flakes to the ground. It obscured the distance, and only the feet of the mountains could be seen. While the rest of the ships discharged their burdens, and Calogrent and Sabin walked their Chocobo down the plank, Edgar came and stood beside her, gazing ahead into the blizzard.
"I'm sure Locke is all right, my dear," he said. "He is made of tougher material than you think. He'll be here. He was sent to extract one of our people, a spy inside the empire on whom there was some suspicion."
Terra said nothing. She only prayed that Locke was safe, and Arvis too. Did she really live in peace with Arvis so long ago, or had that only been a pleasant dream? Was there ever a time before toil and strife? Would there ever be a time after it? She gazed on into the blizzard and inwardly commanded it to give up its secrets.
The Returners had landed on the ice that crept out from the shores on Narshe's outer limits. From here they would pass through one white valley, and then another, the mountains closing in on either side until at last they reached the mountain-couched city. The armed men of Mobliz, as well as many of the Returners, would then camp outside the city while the principals went in to speak to the rulers of Narshe.
Terra and Banon rode in front with Edgar and Sabin following behind, and Calogrent (at Terra's request). It was a journey of mere hours, but it felt to Terra like days. She did not slouch or hide her face, not even when the wind picked up, but sat erect, with queenly majesty, not daring to miss the moment the lights of Narshe penetrated the white showers with their hazy glow. Her anticipation was equaled only by the numbing weight of her Dread. It increased with every mile, until, at last, her heart gained a tempo, the yellow glow of Narshen lights pierced through the obscurity. Terra started. She had arrived. Her world-weary path had come full circle, and it was meet that the place of her starting and of her ending should be one. But the most difficult trial was still to come.
There was the wood, and, somewhere, the path, that led to Locke's cabin. There was the mountain under which she lived as a seeming child with her father now so long ago. There was the wall and the many-tiered city, its buildings like giant steps scaling the mountain. All the lights were aglow with life. And somewhere, obscured by the blizzard, was a plateau and a peak, where in imperial arrogance she had come to rob a god of its power, beyond the limits of her memory. There, she was told, she had been humbled and set on the hard path of penitence.
And there, again, was the way to Locke's cabin. Terra could hardly contain herself; the suspense was cruel.
"Banon," Terra said in her most subdued tone. "We have journeyed for many months. What is one hour to discover the fate of dear friends?"
Banon smiled and bowed assent. "Edgar and I will go speak with the elder. Go to your friends, but do not tarry long. You will be needed at counsel."
Thus Terra shot off on her Chocobo from the others. Edgar smiled benignly on her going, and looked as though some part of him wanted to go with her, though he knew he must adhere to the obligations of kingship.
Nonetheless, Terra raced through the trees, at first blindly, but then she saw the stable where Locke had untied and saddled their Chocobo in the beginning. Her bird had died deep underground in the caves where Terra's magic was first revealed. She never remembered what became of his noble bird.
What mercy! There were two Chocobo stabled there. She tied up her own beast and patted the other squawking creatures on the nose to calm them lest they give her away. Then she ran on towards Locke's cabin. She could see it through the trees now, and the chimney was happily smoking! If only she had been born with wings: the deep snow slowed her progress so tediously! She didn't know whether to laugh or weep.
And yet, remembering caution, she crept up the steps and put her ear to the door. There were voices inside. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but one of them—she could not have mistaken it—one of them was Locke's!
