When they had finally cried their last tears, Corbin felt that he could have fallen asleep right there in the back alley.
“Should we go to sleep?” Corbin asked. His voice cracked and was hoarse.
“No, we have to leave immediately. We’ve been here too long already,” Fermin said, even more hoarse than Corbin.
“This is a bad place,” Ilargi said in agreement, her voice was almost a full octave lower than usually.
They slept in the mountains far from the city, taking turns to keep watch. Itsiria was far away from everywhere. It was so far out of the way that even the Kingdom and the Empire didn’t bother to collect taxes or decide who formally owns it. It was beyond a mountain range to the north and west of Zuhaxea. It was a port city on a peninsula on the ocean.
“It’s where the basajauns and the jentils supposedly left the continent from. The city is famous for fishing and ships in general,” Ilargi said.
On the way to the city they saw small groups of people travelling in the same direction. At first they gave such groups a wide berth, but as they were coming closer to their destination, the number of them steadily rose, until they were themselves just another group. The city had no walls and instead relied on a steep cliff that guarded it from one side and the river from the other. A bridge wide enough for three carts led to across the water and they entered the city.
“Hail, Fermin,” a voice came behind them. It was a city guard. “If you’re here, does it mean that …”
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“Yes, she is dead,” Fermin said.
“I’m sorry for your loss. She was a great woman.”
“Yes.”
“Come with me, I will fill you in on the details,” the guard said.
They left together, leaving Corbin and Ilargi behind. They went to the docks, where many ships were docked. Some were just small fishing boats, but docked farther away from the city at the very edge of the dock was an enormous carrack with four masts. Supplies were being loaded onboard by burly sailors. Corbin and Ilargi stared at the spectacle.
“There you are,” Fermin’s voice came behind them. It had a strange sound. It wasn’t happy, quite the opposite, but there seemed to be a little more energy in him. “That’s it, the Jatorrama. I need to leave the continent for a while.” He waited for them to say something, expecting objections, but neither Ilargi nor Corbin spoke. “A lot of people will be going along and new ships are being built for any that will want or need to join later. Itsirian spies have found out that a real purge will happen soon. I think you two should be safe, especially if you don’t return to Zuhaxea, but you are both welcome to come along.”
“I …” Ilargi said and glanced around. “I don’t know if I can,” she made eye contact with Corbin then looked away and stopped speaking.
“I will go along,” Corbin said. Fermin nodded and looked at Ilargi.
“What?” Ilargi said.
“I said I will go,” Corbin said in a calm manner. He faced Ilargi and took a breath. “Please come with me.”
“But what about your home. If you leave now any chance of returning will disappear.”
“Maybe. I don’t know, but I do know this: I want to be with you Ilargi. If I spend the rest of my life here, it will be a good life if I can be next to you,” Corbin said. He felt his face go hot and extended his hand towards Ilargi. She looked at him with her piercing steel-blue eyes. There were just slight traces of tears collecting in their corners. After a moment of staring and failing to form words, she took his hand into hers and held tight.
A few days later Corbin and Ilargi were standing on the deck of the ship looking at distant mountains and Itsiria recede in the mists above the ocean. The light salty spray was taking away the heat of the ever-shorter autumn days. Ilargi and Corbin remained anyway, his hand holding hers in a warm and firm grip.