Forlaith: Set Sail

February 18

I swear I have not truly woken up all day. Whatever Oswyn gave me yesterday after Aedan’s death has kept me groggy all day, but despite the haze I can’t stop crying. My head aches with it. How could Ardythe do such a thing? To kill, like that, in a sudden, thoughtless moment. I understand the need for a man to be able to kill. There are bandits and vagabonds within any nation. But killing to defend the weak is a far cry from what I saw yesterday.

I know my years are few and my experiences even fewer, but I never thought so much evil existed in this world, much less in one man. He has taken us from our homes and families for sole purpose of selling us for an army.

I do not deny the need to defend ourselves from Odrar, but must it be done this way? I think not.

Why must I sacrifice my entire existence so that he can have armies? Death would be an easy request to honor, but to give my body over to a strange, foreign man and actually live a life with him is a much harder burden.

I do not know if I cry for Aedan or for my own future.

Either way there is no escape now. We are already sailing away from Bathum. I will never see my family again. I suppose I should have known that, but some piece of me thought eventually I would return to the home of my youth. That dream is over.

Mallawi is such a great distance from the Island. The idea of Ardythe traveling there and returning to the Island in one lifetime is beyond belief. In fact, I cannot remember any stories from my father or grandfather of the Islanders having any business with the Mallawi.

Perhaps the gods will save me from this fate and sink our ship. I pray to Osim to take our ship and bury us in the depths of her grace.

But I don’t expect such mercy.

And if I did get what I want, what would be the results? The Island would fall to Odrar and all I know and love would be destroyed. My knowledge of history is enough to know that Odrar would enslave the Island as they had in the past—take all the beautiful women, force our men to fight their wars, and tax those few who remain into starvation.

I’m not sure if knowing my sacrifice is necessary makes it easier. I don’t think so.

But I have rambled enough. Perhaps it is the haze of the drink Oswyn gave me.

We set sail with the morning tide. I felt as though I was on parade as we journeyed down to the docks, the streets lined with workers, apprentices, and house wives who cheered us on. The docks were crowded with the city’s elite. We descended from the carriages, our feet lighting on a trail of rose petals. Small girls with their hair decked in wild flowers approached us and gave each woman, including Oswyn, an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers.

I don’t exactly see the point being that we cannot possibly keep them alive for more than a day on a ship, but that’s beside the point. Sadon took my arm and we followed the others. I saw Jocosa hesitate as Leofrick offered his arm to her, but she took it with as good of grace as she could manage. Kaplan escorted Rownet down the path of rose petals. Unsurprisingly the king did not offer his arm to Oswyn and she was forced to walk behind us with Marcys and the rest of the servants.

All of Ardythe’s “children” knew that Oswyn secretly hoped to attract the attentions of the king and, perhaps one day, wed him. But we know better. The king, despite being sixty-one years old, was vigorous and robust. He kept young women who could keep up with his energy. Oswyn napped two times a day.

On the ship the royal family waited on the deck where the crowds could see us while the seaman cast off the dock-lines. In case you are not a sailing person, whoever may be reading this, the dock-lines are the enormous ropes used to hold the ship to the dock in all types of weather.

Some may think sailing away from a dock is as easy as letting the tide take you out, or perhaps a few helpful blasts of wind. Sadly, it is a much slower process. Most of the crew was already stationed below. They were forced to row for many hours until we were clear of the large Bathum port and the other vessels coming and going. Bathum is a major trade depot and the busiest port on The Island.

It was midday before they raised the sails and allowed the great gods to push us on our way.

Finally, with the release of the sails we were permitted to go down to our cabins. By this time I was leaning on Rownet’s shoulder, barely able to stay awake. The three of us share a cabin with Owsyn while the three men share with first mate, Alek. Ardythe has his own of course, and Marcys shares with Haddock, the ship’s captain.

Despite being a large ship, we are very cramped in these quarters. Rownet and Oswyn took the two actual bunks, leaving Jocosa and I to survive in the hammocks hung from the ceiling and drawn up during the day so that we can walk in our small space. Against one wall, under a thick but small window sat a little bench with a table. Here I sit and write while the other’s prepare for bed. I best finish for they will soon want the lamp extinguished; besides, I find myself too sleepy to continue.

Forlaith