II. Forgive Her

After a fruitless round of negotiations with the Mayor of Vergas, the army was underway, though with minimal supplies. The ships of the pirate Donnelyn were large, but given the number of soldiers in addition to the ship’s crew, living conditions were cramped. The Mayor of Vergas initially made a fuss when Aichlan commandeered a couple more ships to suit his army’s needs, but was easily persuaded, and thus they had a small fleet of merchant and pleasure craft at their disposal.

Fortunately, the holds were fairly empty as they were not able to gather much in the manner of supplies, but that was a double-edged sword. The flagship, Sylphian Embrace, had several cabins, while these were usually shared between three or four others Ashe was able to find a cramped little closet suitable for only one. It was here that she remained for the majority of their half a week voyage, suffering from nausea and irritability. Compounded by everyone’s good intentions and constant checkups on her well-being.

She had made several courtesy appearances to assure everyone she was alive and well, yet she had little desire to socialize in the cramped confines of the lower decks and the ship's hold. Luckily, the ship was large enough for her to not be missed. Given the nausea and general feeling of disgust, she wanted nothing more than to curl up and die beneath her covers.

“Knock, knock!” Clarissa sang as she entered the small cabin with a tea tray. “Feeling any better?”

“Close the damned door!” Ashe screamed, and Clarissa hurriedly obliged.

“I must say dzis is zee worst case of sea sickness I’ve ever come across.”

Clarissa busied herself setting up the tea on a nightstand and took a seat on the bed next to Ashe. She hummed softly as she buttered a slice of toast. Ashe groaned and rolled over in revulsion. Clarissa had taken personal interest in her well-being for whatever reason, and while Ashe appreciated the woman’s kindness and friendship, she wanted nothing to do with anyone.

“You can’t keep starving yourself; it’ll just make dzings worse.”

“Just use yer bloo’y magic oor sumthin an’ get the hell oot.” Ashe mumbled from beneath her pillow.

“Come now!” Clarissa smacked Ashe on the thigh and pried the covers from her face.

“Come on. I’ve made a broth. Please eat. You just ’ave to sit dzese zings out. Seasickness is one of zee most difficult to treat as it’s not so much a stomach ailment but a balance issue.”

“Clarissa,” Ashe sighed, seeing no use in further deception, “it’s not seasickness.”

Clarissa took a sip of her tea. “Zen what zee ’ell is wrong with you?”

Maleah knocked on the door and poked her head in. “Hi, is this a bad time? I need something for this cursed seasickness.”

“Not at all, maybe you can ’ave better luck getting ’er to eat something,” Clarissa said through a mouthful of toast.

Maleah stumbled into the room, leaning upon the door frame to ride out a swell. After great effort to hold down her breakfast, she staggered over to join the women, plopping down on the deck as it rocked, and hesitantly grabbed a cup of tea and several cubes of suggar. Outside the door, the roar of laughter made its way up from the bowels of the ship. It seemed that all these pirates did was smoke, drink, fight and smell to high heavens. It was as if they never slept; either that or they caroused in shifts.

“So, what were you saying about dzis sickness Ashe?”

“It’s not seasickness, it’s something else…” she replied cryptically, irritated by the line of inquiry.

“What? Like your period?” Maleah shakily sat on the floor as the ship hit a swell. “Light I hate the ocean.”

“More like lack thereof…”

Clarissa nearly dropped her teacup in shock. “Wait, what?”

“Wow. Don’t tell me it’s that Aichlan guy?” Maleah scoffed as she vigorously mixed her syrupy tea.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Clarissa giggled. “Who do we tell first?”

“Naebody!” Ashe bolted up from under the covers. “By the Dawn Clarissa! I cannae let Aichlan know, at least nae yet.”

“It’ll get pretty obvious pretty damn quick, so if you don’t have this figured out you had better get crackin’.” Maleah admonished before she slurped noisily on her tea.

“Who asked ye anyway?” Ashe retorted.

“Ashe, we can’t keep zis a secret…”

Ashe stubbornly shook her head. “And if Aichlan knew he’d turn these ships around and drop me off in Vergas. I just need tae hold off until we’re too far fer that tae be an option.”

Clarissa furrowed her brow as she fought to think of a counterpoint to Ashe’s argument. Upon finding none, she sighed and took a sip of her tea. Ashe groaned and reluctantly sat up, Clarissa was no doubt going out of her mind with boredom, and this was just the tid-bit of gossip she needed to get her through this voyage. She was not willing to be the subject of this gossip circle however.

“Okay, okay. But I can’t just let you run around swinging your hammer all across a battlefield while dzere’s a life forming inside of you.”

“I won’t jus’ sit on the sidelines whilst everyone else fights for their lives.” Ashe spat with finality.

“But you’re not a warrior Ashe, you’re a blacksmith!” Clarissa slammed her open hand upon the mattress for emphasis. “And pregnant!”

“Armies do need outfitting;” Maleah buttered herself a slice of toast, “my men are in desperate need of new armor and weapons.”

The ship rose and fell sharply, Maleah hiccuped and abandoned the task, choosing to nurse her tea instead.

Clarissa nodded smugly and gestured towards the cabin door. “And Eth does need a new sword, if zee battles to come are to be anything like zee last, we're going to need you working full time on weapon and armor maintenance.”

“Fine.” Ashe relented. “But ye can’t tell Aichlan, promise me!”

“Alright… But I must tell someone!” Clarissa whined as she shook Ashe’s leg in protest.

“No! I don’t want this getting out to everyone!”

“News like this does spread, especially in military camps,” Maleah added.

“…One person then, How about Alice?” Clarissa pleaded, not willing to let the issue drop.

“Alice? The whole bloody ship will know by noon!”

“You’re right.” Clarissa wrinkled her brow in concentration as she tried to think of another person to confide in.” How about Fiora?”

“You can tell me.” Maleah added, holding out her cup for a refill.

“You already know!” Clarissa took and refilled her cup before handing it back to her. “What about Órfhlaith?”

“She’s got a bigger mouth than Alice.” Ashe scoffed.

“Really? I never pictured her as a gossip. I may ’ave to talk to ’er…”

Maleah scrunched her face in disapproval. “Is this really all you two are gonna talk about?”

Ashe buried herself beneath the covers again. “You can leave at any time Maleah.”

“I’ll attribute the snide commentary to your current affliction.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll keep quiet.” Clarissa stood and made her way to the door. “Be sure to eat something, you’re eating for two now! I’ll be right back.”

Ashe and Maleah sat in awkward silence. Ashe lay balled up under the blanket, and Maleah crunched away at the toast she previously abandoned. She knew Clarissa was off to tell someone, but could not bring herself to get out of bed to stop her. The sound of Maleah’s crunching quickly grew irksome and she covered her ears with a pillow. She wished the woman would leave her be, though felt sorry for her at the same time. There were only three human females aboard this vessel; her own soldiers were with the animals aboard one of the other ships. She was essentially alone, all the more complicated by her relationship to the enemy and alliance with his army.

“I wonder how Cookie’s doing.” Maleah wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

“I’m sure the beast is fine. Ye have some place to be daen’t ye?”

“Not particularly, any idea why they didn’t put Taryn on this boat?’

“I think it was her choice.” Ashe sighed in exasperation.

“That whore.”

* * *

Aichlan leaned over the rail as the freighter hit a swell, covering the deck in sea mist. The sights, sounds and smells of the sea brought an overwhelming sense of homesickness for Aichlan, though the rough seas put everyone else in poor spirits. The admiral made his way over and leaned against the railing next to him. The warm air and cry of the sea fowl only served to further lift Aichlan’s spirits, he ignored the admiral’s presence, concentrating instead on the waves and salty breezes. He could not be sure he would get a chance to enjoy the sea again.

“I always loved the waters in this region, tha Sorrows far too cold fer ma liking.”

Silence hung between them, interrupted by a nearby whale breaching the surface to draw breath.

“But I’d rather sail the tepid waters off the Lyresian isles over any o’ this piratin’ business. What about you boy? You a man o’ the sea? Or one o’ those landlocked Aes Sidheans?”

“If you knew my father as you claim you do, then the answer would be obvious.” Aichlan shot back coolly as he stared off into the sea.

Francis laughed to himself and turned his back to the water. He leaned over the rail, dangling his dreadlocks over the water. Another whale breeched the surface off in the distance, sending up a jet of mist and spent breath. Aichlan pondered the admiral, he was a strange man, though there was no doubt he knew of his father. The only question was one of context. His uniform was Aes Sidhean Navy, but he could have easily stolen it from some poor fool.

“I’m jus’ goin’ fer conversation lad, no need ta get testy. Yer accents got Westfaire written all o’er it. And I did know yer Pa.” The admiral fumbled in his coat for an elven cigar. “Took him and a band no bigger than yers inta Rhodarcium when we was still feudin’ over the shippin’ lanes.”

He placed the cigar to his mouth, but did not light it, staring wistfully at the gulls and clouds overhead. Silence hung between them, which Aichlan was grateful for, he needed a moment of respite.

“No one dare challenge our naval superiority in our own waters, the curse ennal, so the blighters baited us out into Oceanus Iraë and the waters west of Therion. It was a trap an’ we sprung it in our nautical arrogance.” Francis laughed ironically to himself as he stared at the clouds and squawking gulls. “Biggest blunder in naval history.”

Aichlan was aware of the story, though it was not often brought up. The war happened some twenty years ago. The Aes Sidhean armada set up an ambush in the Sea of Sorrow, waiting weeks while the Rhodarcium fleet set anchor just beyond the isle Therion. Both fleets had been equally armed with rune cannons, long tubes with magical symbols carved upon them that fired magic, and battalions of marines, but due to the arrogance of one Aes Sidhean admiral, the fleet sailed to meet the Rhodarcians without resupplying. Their haste led to disorder and confusion, followed by the worst naval loss in Aes Sidhean history. Following the loss of the bulk of its fleet, the navy resorted to guerrilla tactics, conscripting any and all seafaring vessels and their captains. It was all common knowledge taught to every school-going child, even those that didn’t get proper education were taught the ways of the sea and their nation’s history as to not make the same mistake twice.

“Are you really an admiral?” Aichlan asked suddenly.

“Aye, started out as a chief though. I just happened ta have me own vessel so they upped me to captain and the rest…”

“Is history,” Aichlan finished.

“The war at sea weren’t goin’ so well, so the top brass, higher ’en me mind ye, they got together and decided to take every port city along the coast o’ Rhodarcium. Me an’ yer papi thought it were the damn foolest thin’ we ever did hear, but he got his men together and I ferried them off.

“But that ain’t the clincher yet lad, no, when that campaign went to hell an’ back,” Francis leaned in close and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper, “yer da’ got each an’ every one o’ them boys back on ma ship. Now if that ain’t something’ you can find pride in then I don’ know what ye can.”

Aichlan was surprised, he had heard of his father’s heroism, seen the medals and decorations, but he had never really spoken about it before. His father had been oddly reticent regarding his conquests and battles. He knew of the man’s strength, he remembered seeing the spear he wielded, and the time spent watching him silently polish it. He remembered asking, but never got a clear response. His father had been a warrior all his life, so he embodied many of the traits and characteristics of soldiers from as early as he could remember, but he distinctly knew that his father had changed after the Rhodarcian campaign. Even at six, he saw the shift in his attitudes, the weight he carried. Now an adult, he knew little of his father, aside from myth and legend that surrounded him.

“What about you?” Aichlan asked, eager to change the subject. “Why did you choose the life of a rogue?”

Francis spat overboard and looked bitterly to the horizon.

“The war ended, Rhodarcium wanted us war criminals to pay. After all our service and sacrifice, our gover’ment was willin’ ta just hand us over. So, I told ’em to go bugger off and took me crew with me. All these lads here?” Francis gestured to his crew and the other ships with his arms. “They was all under me at one point or another.”

Aichlan’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. “You’re all former military?”

Francis nodded solemnly. “At least my crews are, can’t say fer the rest o’ them.”

One of Francis’s crew struggled as he led a hostile woman towards them She kicked and thrashed, sending out a torrent of Elysian curses.

“She one o’ yers?” Francis pushed himself off the railing and stretched as the crewman struggled with the woman.

“I’m not sure, have him let her go.”

“No can-do mate,” The crewman grunted, his face covered in a sheen of perspiration, “caught this lass pilferin’ from the galley. Judging by how much she tried to leave with, I’d guess there’s more of ’em hiddin’ with the rats somewhere.”

Aichlan looked over the young woman, she was very beautiful, but her attire was that of a peasant, not The Order.

“Wait a minute, I seen this lass before…”

The woman spat at Francis and let fly a string of Elysian curses.

“Yer that boy’s friend ain’t ya?” Francis stroked his beard, as he looked her over. “I’m certain of it.”

“Boy? You mean the one from the tavern?” Aichlan asked.

“Aye. Seems our bar wench went and stowed away on ma ships.”

“Orders sir?” The burly crewman grunted and strained against the young woman’s violent thrashings.

Francis pulled a half-smoked pipe from his coat pocket and put it to his lips. “Throw ’em off, what else?”

“Hold on a moment!” Aichlan interjected to the horrified woman’s relief. “I’d like to hear them out first if it’s all the same. I’ll take responsibility for them.”

Francis looked her over once more and shrugged. “I honestly don’t care either way. Round up her companions. You can use me quarter’s fer yer lil’ interrogation.” Francis thoughtfully stroked his beard. “I’d like to hear ’em out ma’self…actually”

* * *

Shackled to the deck of the captain’s quarters, Madden and Odell sat looking far worse for wear than they did in Vergas. Aichlan looked them over briefly; they were pathetic sights, dirty and starved, cracked lips betraying dehydration. Aichlan pulled out a chair, loudly dragging it against the deck and took a seat. The two stowaways flinched and lowered their gaze. He kicked back, put one boot up on the table, and looked from one pathetic face to the next. Aislyn was in the corner, stealing apologetic glances at the younger of the two captives. Fear marred her otherwise elegant features. Upon catching Aichlan staring, she fixed her gaze on the deck, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“First off,” the pair on the floor flinched as Aichlan abruptly broke the silence. “Who are you?”

The two men looked at one another as if to ask the same question, but neither responded.

Aichlan took a sip of rum and set the mug back down gingerly as the ship rocked upon the waves. “One of you had better answer; my patience has been strained as of late.”

“It’s a long story sir….”

Aichlan turned to Madden and shrugged. “We got nothing but time.”

Madden sighed and his shoulders sagged. “I’m just watchin’ over the lad here, took a coupla jobs to get our daily bread is all, got in o’er our heads us.”

“We’re mercenaries.” Odell blurted.

“By tha Light… don’ say tha’.” Madden mumbled in embarrassment for the young man.

“We were hired by the church to find a nun and a woman who had gone missing in the Wraith Woods.” Odell continued, undaunted.

Aichlan set the chair down on all four legs, his interest suddenly piqued. “Do you have the names of these people you were sent after?”

“Yes, a Sister Clarissa and a woman, some princess or something.”

Aichlan smiled and laughed to himself much to the boy’s surprise.

“Do you know them?” Odell seemed confused by his amusement.

“Yes, I know them. One, now Cardinal Clarissa, is aboard this vessel. As for the Princess, I cannot say, nor do I believe Clarissa knows either. But tell me,” he held up his hand to halt any further questions from the boy. “How is it that you ended up in Rhode?”

Madden made a point to speak before his young companion. “We’re not really mercenaries, more like glorified errand boys us.”

“Oh?” Aichlan sat back and held out his hands, urging Madden to continue.

“This monk, Rassvette came an’ told us to scratch the Wraith Wood errand and go with him d’rectly to Duvachellé an’ meet this bishop, but we got waylaid by Aislyn and the boy decided we should help her first.” Madden jerked his head in Odell’s direction, who bowed his own as his face burned red. “We was first s’posed to go meet some Sorn résistance leader and get ‘er ta coordinate with Duvachellé. It’s all vury confusing, and resulted in a great big misunderstandin’.”

“What about her?” Aichlan nodded in Aislyn’s direction. “How does she fit into the picture?”

Madden shrugged. “We found ’er on the border, said she knew where to find this resistance leader, said she’d help us if we helped her find someone in the wood. We went along seein’ as we was s’posed to be doin’ that anyways, that an’ neither of us speak Elysian too well bein’ from Barrington Hills an’ all. Don’t have too many frog speakers that far east ya’know?”

Aichlan grinned; it seems they were a couple of landlocked Aes Sidhean farm boys. It was curious that they wound up so far from home. Hill folk were not the type to venture too far from their place of birth. It was possible they went out in search of fortune, but it did not seem like the big one would have encountered too much difficulty in finding work closer to home.

“Eth, go have Clarissa find any member of The Order she hasn’t seen before and bring him here.”

Odell groaned and Madden looked away, swearing under his breath. Aichlan took a long drink before setting down his mug again. The ship creaked as it rose on another swell, a pitcher slid across the table, deftly stopped by Francis before it hit the floor. Their story was interesting, though he knew there was far more to it. Who would hire them to go traipsing through the woods and to what ends?

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice that little detail, did you?” Aichlan smiled, much to their discomfort. “What is your current objective? I find it hard to believe that you came all this way by such flimsy premises. Your story reeks of ulterior motives; I have a deep mistrust of such motivations.”

Madden was about to speak when Aislyn abruptly cut in. “We were told to meet with the résistance, it was of upmost importance to bolster the defenses and provide a guerrilla warfare element…”

“In essence, someone wanted you to be a diversion.” Aichlan interrupted, much to Aislyn’s annoyance.

He looked her over, it was curious that she chose that moment to speak. Aichlan got the feeling that each of them had been working for different masters, though what that actually meant was still a mystery.

“I believe the term is meat shield.” Francis added with a jet of smoke from his pipe.

Aichlan cleared his throat to stifle a smile. “Who contracted you?”

“We never actually met with him, just a middleman, but the contract was signed by a priest, Lucien I think...” Odell did not finish his train of thought upon noticing Aichlan’s expression.

“Lucien…” Aichlan gritted his teeth.

Donnelyn’s second in command knocked on the door before poking his head inside. “Sorry to interrupt Sir, but we’ve made sight of port. Should be ’bout half a day’s journey with these winds.”

“Damn it.” Aichlan swore as he rose. “If I may leave these three in your care for the time being Admiral? I must begin battle preparations.”

“For the time being, sure.” Francis aimed the tip of his pipe towards the stowaways. “But what do ya plan on doin’ with them after we make port?”

“I don’t know, take them with us, I’m sure we could find some use for them.” Aichlan put on his coat, picked up his mug and finished the rum. “I can’t be too picky given the circumstances.”

“And you also can’t make an army two and three members at a time, especially when battle looms so far over the horizon. I understand that you need all the help you can get on this lil’ save the bloody world crusade ya got goin’ on, but remember this:” Francis jabbed the tip of his pipe into Aichlan’s chest “a commander of meat shields is no commander.”

“I shall keep that in mind.” Aichlan winked as he tossed his empty mug to one of the sailors and left.