Marcys: Thirst

March 7

I am feeling the great regret that we did not turn back when we first discovered the kegs had holes in them. Had we been in the gods’ favor we could have easily made it to the string of islands before our water supplies ran out, but it appears that the gods’ are against us and our voyage.

On our first few days after the discovery we tried collecting rain water, but it seemed as though the great skies have closed themselves from us. We have not had a single drop of rain since the discovery.

We have also endured scorching heats unusual to March, as well as long calms. At first we tried to row during these calms, but it soon became clear the men were too dehydrated to continue at such exertions.

 Now, the men are barely able to complete their basic tasks.

In an effort to slow the dehydration process we have reduced the crew number to the bare essentials, keeping the off-duty men below deck and out of the sun as much as possible. Still,

I am sorry for my absence, and cannot even remember what I was saying before being called away, but I have good news. Land has been sighted. A great distance off, I admit, but it still means we have a chance.

“My lord, let’s give the remaining water to the men and at dusk, when it is cooler, have them row us to land,” I suggested.

“And if it is not enough water to rejuvenate them?” asked the king.

“Then it will not be enough to keep us alive until the fickle winds blow us to land, assuming they ever blow us in that direction. We could as easily be sent off away from the island.”

Ardythe looked to Haddock, who had kept his mouth shut. I needed his assistance, but for some reason he chose not to speak. Usually I agreed with allowing Ardythe to arrive at the conclusion I need from him on his own, but I felt this situation too dire to leave to Ardythe’s inconsistencies.

“What say you, captain?” asked the king.

“I agree with Marcys. The sea has not been kind to us. I would not rely on the gods to get us to safety. We need to take our fate into our hands. Give the men the water, let them rest until dusk, and then we all take turns rowing until we are there and safe.”

Ardythe lapsed back into silence. I could practically see the wheels in his head turning.

“Very well, give the men the water that remains. Give non to the women and let them rest. I want the very barest number on deck during the day.”

It is a great relief to have the king listening to his advisors, such as we are. I will return to tell you how our plan worked.

We have dropped anchor in a little cove and even sent one boat load of men onto the island. In time we will get as many on land as possible, giving everyone a chance to rest their sea legs. The women are very anxious to get off the ship. I can hardly blame them, but first men must find drinkable water and set up some sort of defensive perimeter. We do not know if this island is inhabited, or if there are any dangerous species on it.

Much to the disgust of the women, it will be some time before we can get them to the beach. Still, today is a victory of sorts. I can rest well knowing no one will die of thirst, despite the catastrophes that have beset us.

Forlaith: Sea Monster

 February 26

I thought the water shortage would be our end.

I was in our cabin with the other women when it sounded as though the entire crew burst into shouts and screams. I led the women up the steep steps at a run. Even Oswyn forgot to be ladylike. We reached the deck to find the whole crew dashing here and there.

Rising up along the side of the ship was a giant, gray snake, its head nearly the size of the forecastle. It opened its mouth as we all stopped to stare. We could see enormous teeth dripping with slime and a forked tongue that lashed out towards our sails. Small tentacles swarmed around its head as though they each had a mind of its own.

The sailors rushed forwards, taking up long spears that I didn’t even know we had on board, and began chucking them at the long body. The sharp metal points bounced off the serpents scale and dropped into the rolling sea. By this time, other sailors had arrived with bows and arrows. They launched the arrows at the beast, most of them bouncing off its body like the spears, but I saw one stick into the animal’s eye.

The monster screamed, the sound tearing through our senses in a way that seemed beyond mere sound. I felt it vibrate through my chest. It made my ears hurt and my head throb. Before the serpent had finished its scream, the archers had loosed another volley of arrows, all directed at its more vulnerable face. Another arrow lodged itself into the wounded eye while a few attached themselves to the animal’s tongue and tentacles.  

I heard the women behind me screaming, but ignored them as I considered how I could help. I didn’t have a chance to come up with a plan before the serpent lunged forwards, dropping its head over the other side of the ship. The movement showed just how long this beastly thing really was. Before any of us could move, the head reappeared on the original side of the ship. It had made a loop with its body around our ship.

It wasn’t going to eat us; it was going to drown us by smashing the ship into splinters. The men who had given up on the spears dashed forwards and began pressing against the sides of the serpent as though their meager efforts could actually stop it. Without thinking I ran towards them, intending to help. Before I could reach that side of the ship, the head dropped to our level and snapped down upon us.

I screamed as a sharp tooth sprouted from my stomach. A sailor next to me was having the same problem. A second later, the serpent lifted its head as it closed its mouth around our bodies. We both shrieked, from pain and fear alike. The serpent shook us like a dog shakes a bird to break its neck, cutting our screams short.

The man skewered on the tooth next to me stopped moving. I tried to grab hold of the teeth above me, which were descending again, ready to poke more holes in me. The tooth was sharp and cut my hands, but the pain of the cuts on my hands were nothing compared to the feeling of the teeth digging into my gut.

The serpent shook me again, this time dislodging me from its teeth. I sailed towards the deck, hundreds of feet below me, another scream tearing from my throat.

And just as I reached the creaking planks of the deck I woke up.

Forlaith

Forlaith: Secrets Kept

 February 24

It has not been a good day. Not at all. I am torn between a promise of silence and telling the others what I know, but I do not know which is the right choice. Here is what happened.

I was on the deck with the other women, happy to have a little freedom. Oswyn insists the sea air is bad for us and keeps us in our tiny cabin most of the day. Jocosa and I are ready to go crazy if we have to spend one more minute sitting in that rocking box we call a cabin.

Anyway, before she could call us back into our cage, we heard a horrible cry from below deck. I rushed to the nearest hatch, just a few steps behind the men who quickly descended to the very lowest level. Before I could hike up my skirts and follow, Oswyn took me by the arm and dragged me away from the hatch, yelling at me for making a scene. I hadn’t actually lifted my skirts yet. That, I realize, would have deserved a reprimand. All she was angry about was that I had run. Women don’t move fast enough to rustle their skirts, evidently.

Again I digress.

It wasn’t until our midday meal that we learned the cause of the commotion. We had lost most of our fresh water stores. Ardythe was insisting on proceeding as planned.

“What will happen to us?” demanded Rownet in a frantic voice.

No one answered her. I think we were all still in shock. What would happen to us? Would Ardythe’s foolishness cause our deaths after all?

“Is this all we get?” asked Jocosa, looking down at the cups of water brought to us. The sailor nodded before turning away and closing the door.

We sipped on our water, each finding a seat and thinking about the ramifications of this news. “We should give up some of our water… to the sailors,” I said, barely aware of the thoughts shifting through my mind before they spilled out of my mouth. “They have to work, out in the sun, while we are safe inside, resting. They will need the water more.”

“No!” exclaimed the other women, including Jocosa’s sister who was acting as our maid servant and sleeping on the floor underneath my hammock. Like the rest of us, she was fully prepared to play along with Ardythe’s lie rather than be executed.

“We are royalty, they are mere sailors,” said Rownet,

“We aren’t royalty.”

“Silence!” snapped Oswyn, her voice soft but urgent. “If someone hears that, the whole game is over. The sailors here may know the secret, but what happens in Mallawi when you say something like that and some servant over hears you. You must act and speak as though it is the truth, all the time.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that the sailors will need the water more than us,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. I knew Oswyn would respond better if I spoke composedly, even though her very presence made me want to kick and bite her. I didn’t, by the way; that would be unladylike.

Despite my best efforts, the ladies refused to give any of their water to the men and said they would get me in trouble with Ardythe if I said a word or gave any of my water away.

Finally, out of desperation, I managed to escape Oswyn’s presence. I toured the deck despite the heavy winds that blew sea water into my face. It was better than being cooped up in that cabin with women talking about the future that had been presented to us, the future I was dreading. It disgusted me to see Rownet succumb to their talks of riches and handsome princes. Didn’t she know our chances of marital bliss were slim?

Before I could give into the howling wind and descend to the protection of the cabin, Sadon joined me in my stroll. He was silent for a long time. In fact, I was about to suggest we leave the swaying deck, when he finally spoke up.

“I need to tell you something, but I need you to promise not to tell the others.”

I frowned up at him. My hand was looped through his arm and I stopped when he did. “What are you talking about?”

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.” Sadon hesitated. “It was me. I was the one to poke holes into the water kegs.”

I’m sure he read the shock on my face. I quickly schooled my features and dragged him back into motion so that no one would notice our intense conversation.

“What do you mean, you poked holes into the water keg. Are you trying to get us all killed?” I asked, forcing the corners of my mouth up into a smile as I spoke in a soft, urgent whisper.

“Someone has to stop Ardythe from this evil plan.”

“Is it any less evil to leave the Island without protection?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If we don’t go to Mallawi, and marry these foreigners to get their aid, the Island will fall to Odrar and our people will be enslaved again. I don’t want to go any more than you do, but our people need us. Can’t you see this?”

I looked up at him and could tell that at least some part of what I had said sunk in; he knew that, on some level, we needed to obey Ardythe. Of course, knowing that there was some need for his dastardly plan didn’t make it any easier on us.

I squeezed Sadon’s arm gentle as he processed my words. When I thought he had had plenty of time to think I said more. “I will, though, keep your secret, so long as you don’t do anything else against Ardythe. If you do, I will have to tell him everything I know.”

Slowly, my new brother nodded.

Was I right? Should I have just told Ardythe the truth? If he finds out that I hid this, he will kill both of us. But if I tell Ardythe now, assuming he believes I had nothing to do with it, he will kill Sadon without a moment’s hesitation. I have seen him do it with less motivation.

Sadon has risked all our lives. Then again his death will hardly save us. One less person drinking water will hardly have an effect.

Yes, I believe I did do the right thing. I cannot consciously reveal something that will cause the foolish boy to die. Let us pray the gods speed us to this rumored arpeggio of islands.

Forlaith