Rising Waters - Part 1
Though winter clouds were quickly setting in, the chill of northern air accompanying her as she walked, her first day on the opposite side of the North Gate was still just as blinding as the day before it. It was several weeks ago now that she had marked the day she was away from home the longest she had ever been, and the light would likely be just as obtrusive tomorrow as it had been then.
The outside world was a dry, bright place, and Freya was sure she had never felt thirstier in her life.
Her visit to Cleyra had probably only heightened that feeling. She hadn’t been allowed access to it -- had anyone in the past hundred years? -- and she had no choice but to move on elsewhere. The storm did not lessen for her, and she imagined it would not for him, either, if he had even bothered visiting; Cleyra was a peaceful place. In retrospect, it almost seemed silly to start her search in such unlikely territory, but perhaps the thought of him not having gone outside of the boundaries of their kingdom comforted her.
It was only futile comfort, and one she had little time to partake in before continuing her search.
Freya paused to check her map for what felt like the hundredth time, perched over the corpse of a carve spider who had gotten far too aggressive and taking advantage of the unfortunate scent of the corpse to ward off other predators and give herself a moment to think.
Knowing Fratley, she felt certain his initial intentions would be investigating the neighboring kingdoms, and with Alexandria closest, it had become her intention to go there first. To find her own way into the city, she was going to need to find a way to the top of the plateaus, above the mist. Thus far, she had kept close to the cliffs, taking advantage of the scattered trees for shade and protection and searching for the slim potential of a path that might lead her up, but they had yet to grant her that good fortune, and, truthfully, she had need to stock up on more supplies soon.
There was a village marked on her map, one at the edge of the river that snaked through the basin, and she noted it as her next destination.
–
Upon arriving at the shore of the river, Freya took her first good bath in weeks in the freezing water, setting up camp just long enough to fish and rest for a day; afterward, she followed the river south until she finally came upon the tiny fishing town. It seemed rather isolated, but the residents were friendly enough, and they were happy to trade with her for food and medicine. When she approached a grizzled old boatman with the intention of persuading him for passage across the river, however, she was met with a curious look and a laugh.
“Is there something funny?” she asked, somewhat affronted.
“Don’t get many visitors here, but yer the second one o’ them rat-folk I seen lately.” He hiked up his trousers, hitching his thumb in the direction of the water. “Found the other-un upriver tryin’-a wrangle a chocobo a while back.”
Her heart sped at the promising tidbit of information. If Fratley had been in the area recently, he couldn’t be awfully far. “Do you know where he went? Did he cross the river?”
“Offered ta help me fish fer a while, lookin' for passage like you. Didn't end up crossin', though.”
Her brows knit. “Did he say why?” “Well, he told me where he was goin', and I gave him a better route.” He inspected her for a moment. “Seems like yer headed the same place, huh? I can tell ya where he's headed. Won't be free, though.” “I assume you want the same deal? Fish for information?”
The old man grinned. “Hope yer as good a fisher as he was.”
–
“So why're ya headed to Alexandria?”
Freya stayed silent for a long moment on her perch at the side of the boat, tail draped over the edge and wriggling now and then in the water, and then she jabbed quick with her spear into its surface. “To be wherever he is,” she finally answered the old boatman, smiling at the lively fish on the tip of her blade. “Sir Fratley.”
“Yer boyfriend, huh?” Freya stiffened, and the old man simply laughed. “Didn't say why he was headin' there.”
“He's . . . on a pilgrimage, of sorts.” Not entirely a lie.
The old man hummed, scratching at the scruff of his whiskers. “Goin' it alone some kind o' rat-folk thing?”
“Not exactly. It was more of a personal choice, on all accounts.” One her tone made obvious she disliked. “But I'll find him,” she murmured aloud, dropping the fish into the boatman's bucket. “I've always been curious about the city. It should be nice to see it in person.”
The old man grunted. “S'nice enough. Ain't near as bad as Treno, but you still best keep an eye on yer money. Them alley folks'll rob ya blind in the city.” He bellowed a brief laugh, leaning back to stretch and wincing with a few cracks of his joints, and then he relaxed with a sigh. “Bucket's near full. S'pose I've kept you wondering long enough.”
Freya perked up some, ears swiveling with interest. “You'll tell me where he's gone?” “Y'ever heard of the Ice Cavern?” He paused just long enough to watch her shake her head. “Just southwest of here. Ain't nobody uses it much nowadays, what with airships, but it'll sure enough take you over the mist. Spit you straight out into a village, Dali. Reckon you might find a ship'll take you to Alexandria from there.”
Freya repositioned her tail in the water, silently considering his words for a long moment. “Thank you.”
“I oughta get me one of those,” he quipped somewhat dismissively, gesturing behind her.
“I'll let you know if I find a recipe for a potion to grow you one along the way,” she assured him with a grin.
–
The early hours had been her favorite time to travel, when the mountains hid the brightest rays of sun that would sting her vision as it approached midday. It had never bothered her so much before, but of course, she had never left Burmecia as long as she did now.
With the glare intensifying, she finally relented to rest, finding shade under a patch of trees for a brief reprieve from the sun before moving along to search for a place to refill her canteen. At first, it proved a difficult task, but squishy ground beneath her feet and a bit of digging had her newly dug hole filling with muddy water, though straining it with a handkerchief over the rim of her canteen proved much easier to swallow.
Tucking her tail into her breeches helped warm her from the cool air, and before long, with her back against a tree, relaxed and hydrated, she found her eyes closing.
And that was when sleep reminded her.
“Fratley?” her voice said, just as it had before, clear in her mind.
“Freya,” he said without looking, “there’s something I must tell you.”
She didn't want to hear it, not again. “Tell me,” she said anyway.
There was a long pause in which Freya watched Fratley and Fratley watched the ribbons of water trailing down the window pane.
“I need to leave Burmecia,” he finally said.
Freya already knew why. He had been restless, and she had been here before. She was powerless but to listen as he explained, her ribcage brittle under the weight of it.
“We’re a small and humble kingdom, Freya. But out in the world, there are powerful nations. I am afraid for Burmecia. We are enjoying so much peace, and I don’t wish to lose it.”
Stop, she thought. Don't go on. “I don’t understand—”
“I have to learn more,” Fratley continued, turning away from the window only to pace the room. “I have to learn and teach Burmecia to be stronger with the knowledge I might find by traveling around the world.”
“Then I will go with you,” she suggested, and she wished he would stop.
“You can’t. Burmecia needs you.” He turned to her at last, and the darkness etched on his face nearly burned her. “I need you to stay. To look after things here.”
Freya's head shook, one final act of defiance. “There’s nothing to look after if you’re not here!”
"I understand how you must feel, Freya, but I need you to trust me. You cannot come with me, but I cannot stay here and take that risk."
Freya crumpled into a chair, trying to fathom it—how she could possibly exist without him.
But she couldn’t. She couldn't, and she needed him to know that, he had to know.
His hand rested warmly against hers, but it only made her stomach turn. He was telling her that soon, she would not feel that touch anymore.
“I will return. I promise,” he said, and his voice faded into something soft. “I promise. . . .”
The words were on Freya's lips when she started awake, muscles tense.
The sun had arced a little lower in the sky since last she checked it. She must have been asleep for at least a half hour; she took deep breaths until the only thing she felt in her chest was the bite of the frosty air in her lungs, and then she secured her canteen at her side and pushed herself to her feet, ready to move on.
The Ice Cavern would be much colder, she was certain.
