Odyssey

A clouded dream on an earthly night hangs upon the crescent moon/A voiceless song in an ageless light sings at the coming dawn.

A breath of wind picked up, icy-cold, salty, probing as it teased at the young girl's loose, raven curls, sending a shiver down her spine. Cienwyn lifted her chin slightly, her snowy, ivory skin shining softly against the starlight, scarlet lips parting and rounding to draw in a long, almost sensual breath of ocean air, her head dropping back and her eyes closing. This must be what it feels like to enter Anwnn. A sheet of water, and the cold, and the darkness. The girl's deep blue eyes watched the horizon tersely, as if searching for the first sight of towers, buildings, spires- anything, to mark an end to the long journey from her homeland.

Home. Cienwyn shivered in the black fur that enclosed delicate shoulders. How long had they been at sea? Two, three weeks? She could hardly count the passage of days, for the sickness that had assailed her once her feet left dry land. She knew he had been there, though, constant, silent, strong. What was his name? Cienwyn struggled to remember, until it suddenly encroached upon her: Derrik. She knew so little about him, despite that he was one of her father's men. Three weeks. A month since she had met him, Cienwyn realised in silence as she thought back to that night.

"You're Lord Aeldra's daughter. Cienwyn Aeldra", the sound of his voice was almost drowned by the noise of the tavern. The heady smells of rum and vomit and smoke clung to their clothes, their hair, and for a brief moment, Cienwyn felt her body tensing in the memory. She had looked a mess, her frayed dress and dirty fingernails a far cry from the young noble girl she had been a scant six months before. "Don't call me that. Who the hell are you?", she hissed her reply, dragging him into a quiet corner, "Derrik, miss. Look-", one rough, calloused hand went into his blue tunic, producing a folded parchment. Cienwyn snatched it out of his hand, opening the torn seal to read its contents. Instantly, her throat caught, and she shot one hand out to the wall beside her to steady herself, "He asked that I escort you out of the city. Left enough money for your passage and mine. There's a ship bound for Seahaven in three days, Lady". "I don't want to go to Seahaven. It's a dump", Cienwyn's small, heart-shaped face twisted in distaste, "You should have taken the money for my passage and left. Why didn't you?", her eyes were all suspicion as she looked at the young soldier. Derrik bowed his head, then softer, "I couldn't, Lady. Not Lord Aeldra's girl. Three days, Cienwyn. You don't have a choice. Until then-", he glanced about himself, the distaste at their surroundings obvious, "You'll stay in my apartment. It's small, and nothing fine compared to what you're used to, but-", he broke off and shook his head, "Damnit, come on, girl, this is no place for you. Take this-", he quickly produced a tiny, plain copper ring from his bag, "If anyone asks, tell them you're my wife. They won't ask any questiongs then".

All this He saw, from his place on the railing. Derrik watched her standing in the prow, tiny, dainty, but nevertheless straight-backed, proud, silent. She has Lord Aeldra's bearing, he thought, calloused hands curling in on themselves. Faintly, he registered the sound of a drum beat in the distance, deep, rolling, constant, One, Two, One, Two, the sailors chanted as their oars dipped through the calm surface of the ocean, carving their path with a steady practise, She could be a goddess of the sea, he thought then, almost proudly of her. As if mirroring the soldier's thoughts, another man piped up, grey eyes watching the young girl, "She's a beauty, 'aint she? Not yer wife, fer all I kin see that. Too fine t'be nething bar noble".

There that my heart is longing for, all for the love of you.

"Lady Cienwyn Aeldra", is his gruff reply, scanning his line of sight over the age-worn, dirty linen of the girl's black dress, her worn shoes and the length of twine that binds her hair from her face, "Just delivering her to Seahaven. M'lord's last orders before he passed. Keep the girl safe. That's all". The man grunted, "Wouldna fink she were 'igh-bern, lookin' as she. Nobles th'are-", he jerks his head with a motion towards the aft of the ship, "Silk and jewels, the lot of um. Iffin she 'aint noble no more, merry her". "If the girl had half the sense in her head, she'd use that fine education of hers to find a noble, and get back her father's wealth", Derrik responds moodily, eyes narrowing on Cienwyn's figure, "'Sides, she's only fourteen. Too young to be married, and she wouldn't want me anyway". The man shrugged, "Better 'un leavin' the poor fing to rot, 'aint it?", as he made his departure, preying eyes still fixed on the girl.

A quick gasp drew Derrik's attention, and quickly he crossed the wooden floors to Cienwyn, on the other side of the rail, "Derrik!", she exclaimed, her voice low as she pointed to the horizon, "Look!". The soldier squinted, gaze attempting to cross the distance in the near-darkness. After a moment, he nodded, "There's your new home, Cienwyn. Seahaven".