Life aboard the Sea’s Sword was a little tight—no one had accounted for quite this many guards when they were planning the voyage—but Farek didn’t mind. Whether he was mincing witty insults with Lord Sha, awkwardly stammering his way around his hallway encounters with Miss Roek, or playing ten-card draw with his veritable gang of henchmen, Farek’s spirits were higher than they had felt in months. He loved to travel, and the stress of his present voyage would not sink in until he reached the mainland. Presently, the ship was sailing through the always familiar waters of the Orrish.
It was Devender, somehow, who managed to trouble Farek the most. For the first time in a long time, he seemed uncomfortable sharing his thoughts with Farek. Farek thought it was out of sadness of breaking apart their developing cooperation.
At last their silence reached a breaking point. Farek was standing on the deck, staring west as he often did—looking toward home.
“May I?” Devender asked, interrupting Farek’s meditation on the salty air and brisk breeze.
Farek smiled. “Of course.”
Devender stood beside him for a moment, matching his pose. They looked out across the deep blue together until the magician spoke up again. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your home? Anything within your power?”
Farek raised an eyebrow. Devender’s face was as somber as stone; recent storms or those spotted on the horizon had eroded the façade enough to show his weariness. Farek had enjoyed a respite from that same outlook, though he felt Devender’s words like a clap of proverbial thunder, reminding him. “I would do everything for my home. I would die for it, but that is only my burden to bear. I would not expect others to do so or force them to in any way. I only hope that I would still be a man I can be proud of at the very end.”
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Devender said. He seems very saddened by something, though the ship had received no news from beyond since leaving Noress-That-Was. “It took some convincing—you were not a small part of that, I’ll admit. I’ve spent years roaming, pursuing my education and reputation. Now I am beginning to believe I made the wrong choice. I only hope I can justify my selfish powers as a means to help my home, so it wasn’t for naught.”
Farek had forgotten from where Devender hailed, but now, as he saw the tension in his friend’s face, he remembered. He remembered the crier announcing it: “Master Devender Akursh of Bellasa of the Great Isle.” It was a city that still stood, last they had heard, deep beyond the pirate-infested war-front—a city under siege. “You said you had to deal with personal matters. Are you seeking to save your city from the same possible fate facing my own? Or is it something else?”
Devender looked southward, from their vantage point. His eyes glazed distantly as he responded, “I don’t think I can, but I maybe I can save some of those who are there,” he said. “My perspective is a little different from yours, Farek, so it may help you in some way. Just consider this: for each one of us that is fighting for our home, there is an enemy fighting just as hard for theirs. That’s the tragedy of war.”
“That is true…” Farek murmured. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at the sea. It was a strange point to bring up, given the apparent topic of their conversation. He looked Devender right in the eyes. “I would hope we would never be enemies,” he added, quietly. Hopefully.
The magician matched his gaze, then looked back, over the side of the boat. “That’s not—we’re not—I’m not saying anything like that,” he stammered. A moment passed quietly, aside from the working of the sailors and the sloshing of the sea. He looked back up at Farek’s worried expression. “We just need to be prepared to be on the losing side. Fight with all you have, but please: survive even if that’s not enough.”
Farek blinked. Was all of this just Devender’s concern for Farek’s safety? Was he just worried Farek would die before Devender found his way back to his side? He took a deep breath and waited a moment longer before continuing, “If there is one thing that is rare in life—or in war for that matter—it is having good friends. I’ll admit that if I perish, I would hope my friends would keep fighting. I fear that survival may not be a good option if we are on the losing side.”
Devender nodded quietly. They listened to one of the sailors belting out instructions to another. Farek thought he heard someone singing—perhaps one of the guards? It sounded like a wooden thump might be an accompanying drum.
“And I am happy to call you my friend, Devender,” Farek went on. Despite his positive remarks, Devender’s concerns had chipped a hole in his pleasant state of mind. “Wherever our paths take us next, I thank you for all the help you have given me.”
Regardless of his inner concerns, Farek’s earnest words had a rewarding affect. Devender took a deep breath and seemed to shrug off a weight. “I thank you, my friend,” Devender replied. “I remain convinced that you are one of the best sorts of people.”
Farek’s heart swelled. He had only shared this sort of friendship a few times before, though he had still felt worry at what secrets Devender might struggle to carry. He winked to his friend and said, “You’re not too bad either.”
Devender smirked and patted Farek’s shoulder before striding away. Farek remained behind, staring out over the waves behind them. They would reach Sheld soon, and the magician would go his own way. Farek prayed that their eventual reunion would be on good terms and not as enemies, fighting for differing homes.