FIC: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (2/16)
Title: The Ride With You Was Worth The Fall (2/16)
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: PG (rating will differ between chapters)
Warnings: This ain't your mama's Midlands
Word Count: 3547
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: In this installment, Cara and Kahlan encounter a mysterious woman who is a stranger to them -- and yet not. In fact, she seems to know them better than they know themselves. Our favorite ladies also awkwardly share a bed for the night, which causes Kahlan to awake in a rather compromising position.
A/N 1: As a hardcore Virginia Woolf fangirl, it took every bit of my self-control to not name the chapter To The Lighthouse.
A/N 2: I did not, however, have sufficient self-control to stop myself from making this chapter geographically accurate.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 2
The Lighthouse
A cool breeze, along with the hushing and hissing of waves against the seawall, leave no doubt that gone are the snow-covered peaks of Aydindril and the sand dunes of D’Hara. Kahlan encircles Cara’s waist with just a bit more zeal and Cara tightens her grip on the reins. Ahead, the silhouette of a tower stubbornly piercing through a veil of fog that seeks to conceal its presence, hints at the possibility of a warm meal and perhaps a bed for the night. Since turning back is no longer an option, they ride on.
Just as the sun fades into an orange haze of shimmering light, they find themselves at what appears to be the end of the world. At this proximity, the sound of waves crashing against rocks mimics the sound of shattering glass. Cara looks back at Kahlan over her shoulder for a moment, and at once they both gaze out at the immense expanse of the sea.
“Ahoy, old friends, a sight for sore eyes you two are,” says a voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Cara instinctively reaches for her agiel but her hand remains empty, only the ghost of her weapon is still perceptible -- not unlike that which is experienced by a soldier who has lost a limb.
“Over there,” Kahlan says, pointing to the red and white tower they’d seen in the distance. “It’s a lighthouse,” she adds.
The voice that calls out to them is that of a young woman with flaming red hair, and eyes the color of the sea; her freckled skin speaks of years spent in the sun. Cara looks at her from head to foot and, by the expression on her face, is not at all displeased by what she sees.
“Cara Mason and Kahlan Amnell,” says the woman, shaking her head with a grin on her face, as if their presence were cause for humor. “Come on then, let’s go inside. This wind could blow the fins off a fish.”
“Our horse.” Kahlan says, not knowing what to make of any of it.
“Behind the lighthouse,” the woman says. “Well, go on, help your lady off the horse, you scoundrel,” she tells Cara, who furrows her brow, now glaring at this stranger who somehow knows their names. Kahlan promptly jumps off the horse on her own.
“How?” Kahlan asks, as the two of them walk back; Cara shrugs in response.
The young woman, who stood by the door waiting for them, ushers them into a well-appointed, albeit small, circular room -- the walls of which are covered with colorful paintings of fish. “How do you know our names?” Cara asks without preamble.
“The Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith have crossed my path many times. You may not remember, but I am a creature of the sea, and as such, carry its memories from one lifetime to the next. What it knows, I know as well.” She looks between them for a long moment as if something is off somehow. “My name is Marina. The two of you seem different, yet very much the same. Sit, please.”
“‘One lifetime to the next’?” Kahlan asks, looking into the woman’s eyes, finding they hold no trace of deceit.
“I could tell you stories of those other times but they will not serve you now.” She gazes between the Confessor and the Mord’Sith, scrutinizing them with great care. “You’ve lost your way,” she says, her smile fading.
“We have a map,” Cara says matter-of-factly. “We just need to get across the water.” Kahlan realizes that Cara is being too literal. Marina’s words had nothing to do with their quest.
“In two days’ time, a Captain will stop at the nearby harbor. He will take you where you need to go, I will see to it, old friends, but the voyage won’t be easy. These are stormy times.” Cara watches the sway of her hips as she opens a door that reveals a staircase into which she disappears. Kahlan in turn, watches Cara shamelessly ogling Marina’s posterior, causing her to hiss and narrow her eyes.
“That’s very ill-mannered,” she says. Cara furrows her brow, not sure exactly what she’s talking about. “Looking at our hostess as if she were a piece of meat,” Kahlan adds, crossing her arms in front of her and shifting in her seat so that she doesn’t have to look at the Mord’Sith. Cara rolls her eyes, doing her best to hide her amusement.
When Marina returns, carrying a tray with three bowls of fish stew, she notices the look of consternation on Kahlan’s face, and asks, “Did I miss something?”
As Marina places the bowls in front of them and takes a seat, Cara considers the question then replies, “I was admiring your assets, but apparently the Mother Confessor wants you for herself.” Kahlan practically chokes on a piece of fish, while their hostess laughs so hard her eyes tear up.
“I really should confess you and continue on without you,” Kahlan says.
Marina looks over at Cara for a long moment then turns to Kahlan and says, “Already I think you couldn’t if you tried.” Neither of the women gives much thought to the implication of her words. “Come then, you must be tired. A ship will travel past us; you two can take my bed for the night while I light its path through the storm. Water runs up a pipe so you can shower.”
“I could keep you company,” Cara says, licking her lips, her gaze raking over Marina’s breasts. Kahlan rolls her eyes and throws her arms up in frustration.
“Mm, with those pouty lips and those soulful eyes, the offer is tempting but those waters run deep,” she says, looking over at Kahlan. “I value my life far too much to tempt her wrath.”
“You’re worse than a man,” Kahlan grumbles as they are going up the stairs.
“Oh no, I’m so much better than a man,” Cara replies, this time enjoying the view of Kahlan’s assets.
With every step up the spiraling staircase, the space narrows considerably. The room is lit by an oil lamp that sits on the night table next to the bed, and through a small window opposite the bed, flashes of lightning and thunderclaps speak of the coming storm. A curtain hides a tiny opening that leads to the shower and the small hearth that warms the water as it rises up the pipe. Cara quickly strips off her leathers and with no regard for her modesty or the temperature of the water, steps into the ingenious contraption. Kahlan turns around but not before getting quite the eyeful. Cohabitating with a Mord’Sith is certainly not something for which her Confessor training has prepared her. Still, they need each other if they are to accomplish their respective goals.
“Put this on,” Kahlan demands, averting her gaze from the naked Mord’Sith and handing her a shift before walking into the shower herself.
“She wasn’t lying when she said our paths had crossed before,” Kahlan says once they are squished together on the small bed.
Cara takes her time to consider the implication of the Confessor’s statement. She’s never been one to contemplate such matters but the words of her fallen friend come to mind. “Berdine once told me that all of life takes place in a single moment. She believed souls come in pairs, destined to be everything to each other all at once. She was certain that is how it was between her and Raina.”
“Perhaps she was right,” Kahlan murmurs as they both drift into sleep.
***
When Marina looks in on them the next morning, she finds the two of them tangled together in such a way that Kahlan’s hand is cupping Cara’s breast while the Mord’Sith nuzzles Kahlan’s hair in her sleep. “Well, you two are looking much more like yourselves,” Marina says, her voice causing Kahlan to gingerly open her eyes.
“Good morning,” Kahlan mumbles, absentmindedly caressing the sensitive peak of Cara’s breast with her thumb. The Mord’Sith hums at the pleasant sensation and grinds her hips against Kahlan’s.
Realizing her predicament, Kahlan blushes furiously and snatches up her hand as if it had been resting upon hot coals. Cara whimpers at the loss, causing both Kahlan and Marina to suppress their laughter, knowing full well she would never forgive herself for making such an unbecoming sound. “Come on, let’s allow her a bit more sleep.” Kahlan nods and quickly dresses.
The two of them sip on hot tea as Marina arranges smoked fish and freshly baked bread on a platter. “How long have you been the keeper of this lighthouse?”
Marina gazes out of a window that faces the sea, losing herself in the roar of the surf for a long moment. “I have never known another place. My mother gave birth to me in the room where you slept, as her mother birthed her in that room. Just as your destiny is tied to your land and to Cara, mine is tied to this lighthouse and to the sea.”
“Cara?” Kahlan asks. “Why would you think our destinies are linked? We are bound only by a common enemy. Up until a few weeks ago we were strangers.”
“And yet here you are,” she says, “just as you’ve been before, but think what you will, Kahlan Amnell. I know only that which has already been. What is to come is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.” For as much as not being able to read Cara has been disconcerting to her during their time together, the sheer transparency of this lovely creature overwhelms her. It is human nature to keep parts of oneself hidden, to resist being fully exposed to the scrutiny of others. Yet Marina is as crystal clear as water, freely opening herself up to such an extent that Kahlan has to break her gaze.
Kahlan watches in silence as Marina arranges the table for their breakfast. So much about this new place in which she finds herself is in stark contrast to her homeland, yet there is a peacefulness about it that she hasn’t known since before the Seeker was called years earlier and it became her responsibility to protect him. One quest and now another, both with Richard as the common link. Why would Marina think her destiny is tied to Cara when, so clearly, it is Richard to whom she is bound? “Richard,” she murmurs, the mere thought of him is exhausting.
Before she can think further on it, Cara stomps down the stairs at an alarming speed, already in her leathers. “What is it, what’s wrong?” the Confessor asks, but does not receive a response.
Marina looks over at her and sees it as well, except she immediately recognizes its cause. “Sit and break your fast,” she says, urging Cara to her seat by a light press of her hands on Cara’s shoulders. “She’s safe here,” Marina leans in, assuring Cara in a whisper. “I am going to take rest for a while. Behave yourselves.”
The two of them sit awkwardly across from each other, unable to manage idle prattle. “We should check on our horse,” Kahlan finally suggests, and Cara is promptly on her feet. “What was bothering you earlier?”
“Nothing,” Cara snaps back, a little too emphatically. “It’s just that…” she trails off for a moment. “We should stick together.” It is then that Kahlan realizes her absence must have caused Cara some momentary distress. As they walk behind the lighthouse and turn toward the stable, Cara adds, “Our odds of succeeding at our mission are far greater if we do. That is why Mord’Sith always traveled in quads.” Kahlan finds the last remark rather superfluous, but it provides her with a little more insight into her enigmatic travel companion’s complex personality.
After caring for the animal’s needs, they decide to walk up the coastline in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the harbor Marina mentioned. They’ve both seen rivers and lakes, of course, but the sight of waves as tall as trees and sea creatures flying out of the water and back again, leaves them both breathless. Even the Mord’Sith can’t hide her amazement when she sees a peculiar-looking bird dive into the water and snatch up a fish.
“Did you see that?” Cara says, wide-eyed and curling her lips into something that hints at a smile. To see her usually aloof companion allow herself even the slightest display of emotion surprises Kahlan. This Mord’Sith is turning out to be a puzzle, the pieces of which reveal themselves one at the time. Kahlan dutifully takes mental note of each new discovery.
Further up the coast, they come across hundreds of beaked creatures that appear to have wings but instead of flying, waddle about in a most amusing manner. Kahlan takes a liking to them instantly. “Cara, they’re the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. What are they?” she asks, clinging to Cara’s arm, and beaming with excitement. The Mord’Sith raises her brow, looking down at the hand and then up at Kahlan. Not exactly sure why, she decides to allow it.
“Penguins,” says a man who happens to be passing by. “They travel across hundreds of leagues from the coldest of climates to collect food for their mates who eagerly await their return. The females care for their eggs until the males return and then their roles are reversed.”
“Penguins?” Cara asks with no small amount of skepticism. “I’ve never heard of such an animal.”
“Well, that’s what they are called,” he says emphatically, holding on to his hat as it threatens to take flight in the swirling wind. “Once they choose a mate, it is for life. No matter what the cost to themselves, they will do whatever it takes to return to their chosen one. Perhaps you two will know such a love one day.”
As the creatures dive into the water, the two of them walk on and shortly thereafter, arrive at a small seaside town. Most of the buildings are boarded up and, save for a few fishermen sitting on the pier with their poles, the harbor is empty. At the end of the pier, they spot a small eatery with an ‘open’ sign, and venture inside in an effort to escape the intensifying weather.
“Come, come,” says the elderly woman ushering them in. “You girls will catch your death without your coats in this weather. The storm will be here soon. I’ll bring you some soup and some fried fish. Sit, please,” she adds as she disappears into the kitchen
Cara frowns, crossing her arms in front of her. “Do these people eat anything other than fish?” Kahlan shrugs and shakes her head.
“You girls aren’t from these parts, are you?” the woman asks, studying their clothing and taking in their distinct features.
“No, we are just passing through,” Kahlan says, as a gust of cold wind blows the door open, bringing with it squalls of heavy rain.
“Eat up, girls,” she says, patting Cara on the back as she rushes over to shut the door.
“We should go, Confessor, it looks bad out there.” As soon as they finish eating, she places several coins on the table and they start to leave.
“Wait, wait, take these or you’ll catch your deaths, I tell you,” the woman says, handing each of them raincoat.
“Thank you,” Kahlan says, giving her a light hug. The citizens of this town are far kinder than those of other lands through which she’s traveled.
“You two take care of each other,” the woman calls out from the door.
Upon making their exit, they are met with a fog so thick they can hardly see more than two paces in front of them. Kahlan reaches her hand out for the Mord’Sith but finds nothing. The deafening roar of the wind, together with the torrential rains, and the incessant crashing of waves against the seawall, makes it impossible to discern each other’s voices.
“Confessor,” Cara calls out, before realizing that she can’t hear her own voice, thus Kahlan certainly won’t hear her. Finding no other option, she plows on, growing increasingly concerned about the other woman’s safety.
Kahlan manages to walk further inland where the visibility, if not the conditions, is somewhat improved. She screws up her eyes, trying to peer through the fog, catching a glimpse of an orange blur swooshing by then stumbling forward. “Cara.” she mumbles, recognizing the raincoat as the twin of her own. In a flash, she makes her way to the Mord’Sith and pulls her to her feet. Kahlan firmly grabs on to her shoulder, and Cara wraps hers arm around Kahlan’s waist. Cara points to a faint glow in the distance, indicating that the lighthouse will guide them to safety.
When they arrive at back at the lighthouse, Marina cringes at the sight of them. “By Poseidon, the two of you are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “I told you these are stormy times. Go get out of those wet clothes. I’ll make you some tea.”
It is only when they attempt to make their way up the narrow staircase that they realize they are still clinging to each other.
“Go ahead,” Cara says.
When Marina brings up their tea Kahlan is already in the shower, while Cara sits on the bed wrapped in a blanket, her wet leathers left to dry on the back of a chair. “So you two decided to go on an adventure I see. Well, try to rest, old friend, your ship sets sail tomorrow.” She runs her fingers through Cara’s wet hair, stroking her cheek for a moment. Cara thinks it impossible, but Marina’s touch doesn’t feel new to her. Then again, with what she’s lived through of late, there is scarcely anything she doesn’t think possible. Last night she shared her bed with a Confessor and today she saw flying fish, and waddling birds. “Say good night to your beautiful lady for me,” Marina says.
“You were right,” Kahlan says, sitting on the bed next to her, already wearing her shift. Cara furrows her brow, staring at her for a long moment. “About us sticking together, we would not have weathered the storm otherwise.”
***
Early the next morning, Marina walks back to the harbor with them to await the arrival of the vessel that will carry them across the water. Unlike the previous day, all of the shops along the harbor are bustling with activity. The town, which Marina has informed them is named Ushuaia, is the southernmost city in all of the world and a common stop along the merchant routes of the region.
She and Kahlan walk side by side prattling on about random topics and gazing into shop windows. Cara lingers several paces behind them, carrying both Kahlan’s pack and her own, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. When the two other women linger at one particular shop before disappearing inside, Cara rolls her eyes and sits on a bench overlooking the water. Shopping is apparently among the many things Mord’Sith do not do. Kahlan walks out with a bright smile on her face, clutching a package wrapped in plain paper with a red string tied around it.
“Ahoy Marina,” calls out a silver-haired man standing on the deck of a medium-sized dogger with tall white sails, flying a multi-colored flag.
“Fernão, you old sea urchin, come down here and give me a hug.” Cara and Kahlan watch as the two share an affectionate embrace and walk further up the pier to talk in private. A tall man with piercing green eyes and golden brown skin remains on the deck. Kahlan looks up at him, thinking that his gaze could penetrate granite. The long robe he wears brings back fond memories of the Wizard of the First Order for a brief moment, but this man is much younger, and the turban on his head, with its bright red gemstone, gives him a noble air of mystery that perfectly matches his striking features.
“Ladies, this is Captain Fernão de Magalhães.” Marina’s hand rests on the Captain’s shoulder, as he bows his head politely. “I trust him with my life,” she adds, turning towards Kahlan. “And that beautiful specimen over there is Jamal, his first mate,” she says pointing at the tall man still standing on the deck. A corner of the Captain’s mouth curls up into a smile at the remark.
“It’s an honor to meet you both,” the Captain says. “Marina has explained the importance of your journey. My crew and I will do everything in our power to get you to your destination safely.”
“We will meet again, old friends, and I am certain when we do, things will be as they should,” Marina says. With that, they say their farewells. Marina’s gaze follows them onto the deck, as the crew of Las Reinas del Mar raises the anchor so that the Captain can maneuver the vessel out of the harbor. “Take care of each other,” Marina whispers, hoping that the wind will carry her words to them.
Author: ortunata13
Pairing: ara/Kahlan
Rating: PG (rating will differ between chapters)
Warnings: This ain't your mama's Midlands
Word Count: 3547
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Most certainly, I do not own these characters.
Summary: In this installment, Cara and Kahlan encounter a mysterious woman who is a stranger to them -- and yet not. In fact, she seems to know them better than they know themselves. Our favorite ladies also awkwardly share a bed for the night, which causes Kahlan to awake in a rather compromising position.
A/N 1: As a hardcore Virginia Woolf fangirl, it took every bit of my self-control to not name the chapter To The Lighthouse.
A/N 2: I did not, however, have sufficient self-control to stop myself from making this chapter geographically accurate.
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 part 1 | 6 part 2 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16
Chapter 2
The Lighthouse
A cool breeze, along with the hushing and hissing of waves against the seawall, leave no doubt that gone are the snow-covered peaks of Aydindril and the sand dunes of D’Hara. Kahlan encircles Cara’s waist with just a bit more zeal and Cara tightens her grip on the reins. Ahead, the silhouette of a tower stubbornly piercing through a veil of fog that seeks to conceal its presence, hints at the possibility of a warm meal and perhaps a bed for the night. Since turning back is no longer an option, they ride on.
Just as the sun fades into an orange haze of shimmering light, they find themselves at what appears to be the end of the world. At this proximity, the sound of waves crashing against rocks mimics the sound of shattering glass. Cara looks back at Kahlan over her shoulder for a moment, and at once they both gaze out at the immense expanse of the sea.
“Ahoy, old friends, a sight for sore eyes you two are,” says a voice coming from nowhere and everywhere at once. Cara instinctively reaches for her agiel but her hand remains empty, only the ghost of her weapon is still perceptible -- not unlike that which is experienced by a soldier who has lost a limb.
“Over there,” Kahlan says, pointing to the red and white tower they’d seen in the distance. “It’s a lighthouse,” she adds.
The voice that calls out to them is that of a young woman with flaming red hair, and eyes the color of the sea; her freckled skin speaks of years spent in the sun. Cara looks at her from head to foot and, by the expression on her face, is not at all displeased by what she sees.
“Cara Mason and Kahlan Amnell,” says the woman, shaking her head with a grin on her face, as if their presence were cause for humor. “Come on then, let’s go inside. This wind could blow the fins off a fish.”
“Our horse.” Kahlan says, not knowing what to make of any of it.
“Behind the lighthouse,” the woman says. “Well, go on, help your lady off the horse, you scoundrel,” she tells Cara, who furrows her brow, now glaring at this stranger who somehow knows their names. Kahlan promptly jumps off the horse on her own.
“How?” Kahlan asks, as the two of them walk back; Cara shrugs in response.
The young woman, who stood by the door waiting for them, ushers them into a well-appointed, albeit small, circular room -- the walls of which are covered with colorful paintings of fish. “How do you know our names?” Cara asks without preamble.
“The Mother Confessor and her Mord’Sith have crossed my path many times. You may not remember, but I am a creature of the sea, and as such, carry its memories from one lifetime to the next. What it knows, I know as well.” She looks between them for a long moment as if something is off somehow. “My name is Marina. The two of you seem different, yet very much the same. Sit, please.”
“‘One lifetime to the next’?” Kahlan asks, looking into the woman’s eyes, finding they hold no trace of deceit.
“I could tell you stories of those other times but they will not serve you now.” She gazes between the Confessor and the Mord’Sith, scrutinizing them with great care. “You’ve lost your way,” she says, her smile fading.
“We have a map,” Cara says matter-of-factly. “We just need to get across the water.” Kahlan realizes that Cara is being too literal. Marina’s words had nothing to do with their quest.
“In two days’ time, a Captain will stop at the nearby harbor. He will take you where you need to go, I will see to it, old friends, but the voyage won’t be easy. These are stormy times.” Cara watches the sway of her hips as she opens a door that reveals a staircase into which she disappears. Kahlan in turn, watches Cara shamelessly ogling Marina’s posterior, causing her to hiss and narrow her eyes.
“That’s very ill-mannered,” she says. Cara furrows her brow, not sure exactly what she’s talking about. “Looking at our hostess as if she were a piece of meat,” Kahlan adds, crossing her arms in front of her and shifting in her seat so that she doesn’t have to look at the Mord’Sith. Cara rolls her eyes, doing her best to hide her amusement.
When Marina returns, carrying a tray with three bowls of fish stew, she notices the look of consternation on Kahlan’s face, and asks, “Did I miss something?”
As Marina places the bowls in front of them and takes a seat, Cara considers the question then replies, “I was admiring your assets, but apparently the Mother Confessor wants you for herself.” Kahlan practically chokes on a piece of fish, while their hostess laughs so hard her eyes tear up.
“I really should confess you and continue on without you,” Kahlan says.
Marina looks over at Cara for a long moment then turns to Kahlan and says, “Already I think you couldn’t if you tried.” Neither of the women gives much thought to the implication of her words. “Come then, you must be tired. A ship will travel past us; you two can take my bed for the night while I light its path through the storm. Water runs up a pipe so you can shower.”
“I could keep you company,” Cara says, licking her lips, her gaze raking over Marina’s breasts. Kahlan rolls her eyes and throws her arms up in frustration.
“Mm, with those pouty lips and those soulful eyes, the offer is tempting but those waters run deep,” she says, looking over at Kahlan. “I value my life far too much to tempt her wrath.”
“You’re worse than a man,” Kahlan grumbles as they are going up the stairs.
“Oh no, I’m so much better than a man,” Cara replies, this time enjoying the view of Kahlan’s assets.
With every step up the spiraling staircase, the space narrows considerably. The room is lit by an oil lamp that sits on the night table next to the bed, and through a small window opposite the bed, flashes of lightning and thunderclaps speak of the coming storm. A curtain hides a tiny opening that leads to the shower and the small hearth that warms the water as it rises up the pipe. Cara quickly strips off her leathers and with no regard for her modesty or the temperature of the water, steps into the ingenious contraption. Kahlan turns around but not before getting quite the eyeful. Cohabitating with a Mord’Sith is certainly not something for which her Confessor training has prepared her. Still, they need each other if they are to accomplish their respective goals.
“Put this on,” Kahlan demands, averting her gaze from the naked Mord’Sith and handing her a shift before walking into the shower herself.
“She wasn’t lying when she said our paths had crossed before,” Kahlan says once they are squished together on the small bed.
Cara takes her time to consider the implication of the Confessor’s statement. She’s never been one to contemplate such matters but the words of her fallen friend come to mind. “Berdine once told me that all of life takes place in a single moment. She believed souls come in pairs, destined to be everything to each other all at once. She was certain that is how it was between her and Raina.”
“Perhaps she was right,” Kahlan murmurs as they both drift into sleep.
***
When Marina looks in on them the next morning, she finds the two of them tangled together in such a way that Kahlan’s hand is cupping Cara’s breast while the Mord’Sith nuzzles Kahlan’s hair in her sleep. “Well, you two are looking much more like yourselves,” Marina says, her voice causing Kahlan to gingerly open her eyes.
“Good morning,” Kahlan mumbles, absentmindedly caressing the sensitive peak of Cara’s breast with her thumb. The Mord’Sith hums at the pleasant sensation and grinds her hips against Kahlan’s.
Realizing her predicament, Kahlan blushes furiously and snatches up her hand as if it had been resting upon hot coals. Cara whimpers at the loss, causing both Kahlan and Marina to suppress their laughter, knowing full well she would never forgive herself for making such an unbecoming sound. “Come on, let’s allow her a bit more sleep.” Kahlan nods and quickly dresses.
The two of them sip on hot tea as Marina arranges smoked fish and freshly baked bread on a platter. “How long have you been the keeper of this lighthouse?”
Marina gazes out of a window that faces the sea, losing herself in the roar of the surf for a long moment. “I have never known another place. My mother gave birth to me in the room where you slept, as her mother birthed her in that room. Just as your destiny is tied to your land and to Cara, mine is tied to this lighthouse and to the sea.”
“Cara?” Kahlan asks. “Why would you think our destinies are linked? We are bound only by a common enemy. Up until a few weeks ago we were strangers.”
“And yet here you are,” she says, “just as you’ve been before, but think what you will, Kahlan Amnell. I know only that which has already been. What is to come is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.” For as much as not being able to read Cara has been disconcerting to her during their time together, the sheer transparency of this lovely creature overwhelms her. It is human nature to keep parts of oneself hidden, to resist being fully exposed to the scrutiny of others. Yet Marina is as crystal clear as water, freely opening herself up to such an extent that Kahlan has to break her gaze.
Kahlan watches in silence as Marina arranges the table for their breakfast. So much about this new place in which she finds herself is in stark contrast to her homeland, yet there is a peacefulness about it that she hasn’t known since before the Seeker was called years earlier and it became her responsibility to protect him. One quest and now another, both with Richard as the common link. Why would Marina think her destiny is tied to Cara when, so clearly, it is Richard to whom she is bound? “Richard,” she murmurs, the mere thought of him is exhausting.
Before she can think further on it, Cara stomps down the stairs at an alarming speed, already in her leathers. “What is it, what’s wrong?” the Confessor asks, but does not receive a response.
Marina looks over at her and sees it as well, except she immediately recognizes its cause. “Sit and break your fast,” she says, urging Cara to her seat by a light press of her hands on Cara’s shoulders. “She’s safe here,” Marina leans in, assuring Cara in a whisper. “I am going to take rest for a while. Behave yourselves.”
The two of them sit awkwardly across from each other, unable to manage idle prattle. “We should check on our horse,” Kahlan finally suggests, and Cara is promptly on her feet. “What was bothering you earlier?”
“Nothing,” Cara snaps back, a little too emphatically. “It’s just that…” she trails off for a moment. “We should stick together.” It is then that Kahlan realizes her absence must have caused Cara some momentary distress. As they walk behind the lighthouse and turn toward the stable, Cara adds, “Our odds of succeeding at our mission are far greater if we do. That is why Mord’Sith always traveled in quads.” Kahlan finds the last remark rather superfluous, but it provides her with a little more insight into her enigmatic travel companion’s complex personality.
After caring for the animal’s needs, they decide to walk up the coastline in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the harbor Marina mentioned. They’ve both seen rivers and lakes, of course, but the sight of waves as tall as trees and sea creatures flying out of the water and back again, leaves them both breathless. Even the Mord’Sith can’t hide her amazement when she sees a peculiar-looking bird dive into the water and snatch up a fish.
“Did you see that?” Cara says, wide-eyed and curling her lips into something that hints at a smile. To see her usually aloof companion allow herself even the slightest display of emotion surprises Kahlan. This Mord’Sith is turning out to be a puzzle, the pieces of which reveal themselves one at the time. Kahlan dutifully takes mental note of each new discovery.
Further up the coast, they come across hundreds of beaked creatures that appear to have wings but instead of flying, waddle about in a most amusing manner. Kahlan takes a liking to them instantly. “Cara, they’re the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. What are they?” she asks, clinging to Cara’s arm, and beaming with excitement. The Mord’Sith raises her brow, looking down at the hand and then up at Kahlan. Not exactly sure why, she decides to allow it.
“Penguins,” says a man who happens to be passing by. “They travel across hundreds of leagues from the coldest of climates to collect food for their mates who eagerly await their return. The females care for their eggs until the males return and then their roles are reversed.”
“Penguins?” Cara asks with no small amount of skepticism. “I’ve never heard of such an animal.”
“Well, that’s what they are called,” he says emphatically, holding on to his hat as it threatens to take flight in the swirling wind. “Once they choose a mate, it is for life. No matter what the cost to themselves, they will do whatever it takes to return to their chosen one. Perhaps you two will know such a love one day.”
As the creatures dive into the water, the two of them walk on and shortly thereafter, arrive at a small seaside town. Most of the buildings are boarded up and, save for a few fishermen sitting on the pier with their poles, the harbor is empty. At the end of the pier, they spot a small eatery with an ‘open’ sign, and venture inside in an effort to escape the intensifying weather.
“Come, come,” says the elderly woman ushering them in. “You girls will catch your death without your coats in this weather. The storm will be here soon. I’ll bring you some soup and some fried fish. Sit, please,” she adds as she disappears into the kitchen
Cara frowns, crossing her arms in front of her. “Do these people eat anything other than fish?” Kahlan shrugs and shakes her head.
“You girls aren’t from these parts, are you?” the woman asks, studying their clothing and taking in their distinct features.
“No, we are just passing through,” Kahlan says, as a gust of cold wind blows the door open, bringing with it squalls of heavy rain.
“Eat up, girls,” she says, patting Cara on the back as she rushes over to shut the door.
“We should go, Confessor, it looks bad out there.” As soon as they finish eating, she places several coins on the table and they start to leave.
“Wait, wait, take these or you’ll catch your deaths, I tell you,” the woman says, handing each of them raincoat.
“Thank you,” Kahlan says, giving her a light hug. The citizens of this town are far kinder than those of other lands through which she’s traveled.
“You two take care of each other,” the woman calls out from the door.
Upon making their exit, they are met with a fog so thick they can hardly see more than two paces in front of them. Kahlan reaches her hand out for the Mord’Sith but finds nothing. The deafening roar of the wind, together with the torrential rains, and the incessant crashing of waves against the seawall, makes it impossible to discern each other’s voices.
“Confessor,” Cara calls out, before realizing that she can’t hear her own voice, thus Kahlan certainly won’t hear her. Finding no other option, she plows on, growing increasingly concerned about the other woman’s safety.
Kahlan manages to walk further inland where the visibility, if not the conditions, is somewhat improved. She screws up her eyes, trying to peer through the fog, catching a glimpse of an orange blur swooshing by then stumbling forward. “Cara.” she mumbles, recognizing the raincoat as the twin of her own. In a flash, she makes her way to the Mord’Sith and pulls her to her feet. Kahlan firmly grabs on to her shoulder, and Cara wraps hers arm around Kahlan’s waist. Cara points to a faint glow in the distance, indicating that the lighthouse will guide them to safety.
When they arrive at back at the lighthouse, Marina cringes at the sight of them. “By Poseidon, the two of you are a mess,” she says, shaking her head. “I told you these are stormy times. Go get out of those wet clothes. I’ll make you some tea.”
It is only when they attempt to make their way up the narrow staircase that they realize they are still clinging to each other.
“Go ahead,” Cara says.
When Marina brings up their tea Kahlan is already in the shower, while Cara sits on the bed wrapped in a blanket, her wet leathers left to dry on the back of a chair. “So you two decided to go on an adventure I see. Well, try to rest, old friend, your ship sets sail tomorrow.” She runs her fingers through Cara’s wet hair, stroking her cheek for a moment. Cara thinks it impossible, but Marina’s touch doesn’t feel new to her. Then again, with what she’s lived through of late, there is scarcely anything she doesn’t think possible. Last night she shared her bed with a Confessor and today she saw flying fish, and waddling birds. “Say good night to your beautiful lady for me,” Marina says.
“You were right,” Kahlan says, sitting on the bed next to her, already wearing her shift. Cara furrows her brow, staring at her for a long moment. “About us sticking together, we would not have weathered the storm otherwise.”
***
Early the next morning, Marina walks back to the harbor with them to await the arrival of the vessel that will carry them across the water. Unlike the previous day, all of the shops along the harbor are bustling with activity. The town, which Marina has informed them is named Ushuaia, is the southernmost city in all of the world and a common stop along the merchant routes of the region.
She and Kahlan walk side by side prattling on about random topics and gazing into shop windows. Cara lingers several paces behind them, carrying both Kahlan’s pack and her own, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. When the two other women linger at one particular shop before disappearing inside, Cara rolls her eyes and sits on a bench overlooking the water. Shopping is apparently among the many things Mord’Sith do not do. Kahlan walks out with a bright smile on her face, clutching a package wrapped in plain paper with a red string tied around it.
“Ahoy Marina,” calls out a silver-haired man standing on the deck of a medium-sized dogger with tall white sails, flying a multi-colored flag.
“Fernão, you old sea urchin, come down here and give me a hug.” Cara and Kahlan watch as the two share an affectionate embrace and walk further up the pier to talk in private. A tall man with piercing green eyes and golden brown skin remains on the deck. Kahlan looks up at him, thinking that his gaze could penetrate granite. The long robe he wears brings back fond memories of the Wizard of the First Order for a brief moment, but this man is much younger, and the turban on his head, with its bright red gemstone, gives him a noble air of mystery that perfectly matches his striking features.
“Ladies, this is Captain Fernão de Magalhães.” Marina’s hand rests on the Captain’s shoulder, as he bows his head politely. “I trust him with my life,” she adds, turning towards Kahlan. “And that beautiful specimen over there is Jamal, his first mate,” she says pointing at the tall man still standing on the deck. A corner of the Captain’s mouth curls up into a smile at the remark.
“It’s an honor to meet you both,” the Captain says. “Marina has explained the importance of your journey. My crew and I will do everything in our power to get you to your destination safely.”
“We will meet again, old friends, and I am certain when we do, things will be as they should,” Marina says. With that, they say their farewells. Marina’s gaze follows them onto the deck, as the crew of Las Reinas del Mar raises the anchor so that the Captain can maneuver the vessel out of the harbor. “Take care of each other,” Marina whispers, hoping that the wind will carry her words to them.