A Castrovel Adventure: Part 6, Chapter 1

11. Afaelae, 24,548 - Eiha, 2nd day Northbound on Father-Yaro (3 days since last log)   ~A Yaro-Dias~ - Father Yaro, how many times have You led me this way? I was an outrider-newling but forty-four years old the first time I came home upon your broad back. I had then ended my first peacebode to Sovyrian and was cradling a broken heart, after Alendriel Berendilarion’s wicked games. Sinceward, You have again borne me home after both world-spanning farfetch and sorrowful warfare. Those earlier times, I remind Qabarat owning such wonder, a city so great it seemed the World’s midst. Now instead, after witnessing ourselves, friends, and good folk shamed, I leave behind a jaded ache.   Also on that first homefare and softening that heartache, I remind a beckoning thrill waiting in our home city: outriderhood’s rise that had made my antennae witlessly yearn northward. I had forelooked homecome under dream of a bright and canny towardness. Now my homeward thoughts are deeper, murkier, and more manifold, gathering my greatest love and dread.   I am almost sixty years old. I have a son and a matedaughter, two awesome wifemates for whom I would die, a flag of doughty veterans, champions, and lovers whomfor everyday I strive to be worthy enough to lead, and also a troop of housechildren whom I meekly name blessings. Some of them are so young, ingathering Aeosel my son, that they have never seen Son our home. I also have a scar on brow and cheek, which I will bear until life’s end, and remind the bloodstain from Byreath, the wife who bestowed it, and my swordbill’s crunch through her throat. I still wake dreaming of her, of our fight and her death, and pray to the World-Soul for both her peace and mine. It is but one sin of many.   So we have again come to Eiha, a waystead amid the floodmarshes where one comes to go elsewhere but never owns reason to stay. An undoleful stead but that, as one of Qabarat’s undertowns, it is still bigger than Son our home. Our flatbark docks here so that we can unboard the Shotalashu and let them stretch their legs, as we try to do every eve where we find good bank. Among these marshes, I yearn for the upper river where it flows near the mountains, its wild stretches where ~qoelu~, sometimes even mighty thundertails, wade the river’s depths, and where the deep rainwood looms, as if the trees believe even Father Yaro’s breadth not enough to break their grasp.   There sits home on a weathered crag amid the river’s flow: ~Son-Tolloda~ - Son the Eldest - the holy city that forgets time.   As if to remind us of what awaits, two other wayfarers ship with us, who although they hail from Qabarat, likewise fare to our home. One, a Damaya soulseer, goes to learn at the Ihezoshu, while the other, a Korasha loreling, seeks the Hall of Stars. I have told them I learned at both steads, and beread them to get used to climbing stony slopes. I want their blitheness, even as they dread forgoing Qabarat’s ease and glee, as their eagerness forelooks our old city, even so quaint, which stands over the Yaro Strath’s furthest reach from from their home.   When I reach our home, I must meet my mother, though whom I reckon as the least ill waiting. I own another feud with my lady-sisters, whom I betrayed to free Oshis, my manlove and fathermate, and raided and overran a freehold in the furtherness.   Yet amid our homecome’s bittersweetness, one gladness outstands. Ereyesterday when we came to the harbor to board the flatbark, someone unforelooked waited: Meiss, Sievae’s manlove from the Lemussa Yard, with axe and shortbill slung aback, harness bag ashoulder, and Master Evauess our weaponyard master hosting. Before our flag he knelt and beseeched to asith us northward. Master Evauess outlaid the wayfare will bestow the young Korasha good deedfulnes reckoning skill against other cities’ warriors, if we would atake him.   At their beseech, all looked to Sievae. Already she was weeping with Lenis her son. Together they dashed to Meiss, where she hugged his brow to her belly and the boy climbed upon his back. Then we all hugged him and helped stow gear. While he shared a dear manly kiss with Hanos, Draue joked it would be good having another man to offwhile the long daytides aboat, so they would not overweary Hanos. Nae added that would be well so long as the two served the wives’ idleness first ere they loved each other. Then we boarded under a merrier mood than when we had left Semuane’s mothers our hosts. For my share when I hugged Meiss: ~O’iloshi-mei mithanyelis, o’distimi-ahi sezya-shyalf,~ I warned: “Beware now that you come with us, we may never let you free.” He laughed and kissed my breast, which boldness I shrive warmed me.   I write this log under an evetide witchlight, since Remaue deemed we three wifemates shall sleep on the boat instead of in the wayhall where our flagmates drink and dance. She and Kaure made a bed upon the bales under a tentfly, where even now Kaure plays with our children. It yields some sunderness even with the river’s open sight, leaping fish, crickfrogs, and even late-blooming glowmotes. Right now, my wicked shieldbearer-wifemate walked naked arear, and clutched my nape to her bosom. She reeks of Oshis! Their bliss still rings through her antennae, and not the first tide he has besmirched a lover while we boat homeward. I would bid her swim if we did not worry of whatever great waterfiends lurk under the wharf. She surely did so purposefully, since she knows how my fathermate’s smell flusters me.     13. Afaelae, 24,548 - Hesenyana, 4th Day Northbound on Father Yaro   Sorry news: Nae has miscarried. She had not even yet kenned bechildness. Yet even reckless of the woe, it happened at the awkwardest tide, right on deck before the boatcrew.   The Korasha crewmen bewared blood and beckoned witchwards. While Draue and Sievae mended and soothed Nae, Kaure and I grabbed pail, soapwort, and holystones, and scoured the mess. Our till, however, started too late. The bark-skipper beheld and heathenly chided such bloodfilth bight bring misluck upon the boat.   In answer, my wrath heated. I got in the skipper’s face, becraved why she spoke ill upon my flagmate, and underdared she show a little ruth. I first forethought my speech mildly stern until I bewared the skipper’s cringing antennae. Then I glanced arear and saw Kaure, Erymi, and Tae standing hard with me, and mood so strong we almost fell into warmind. Swiftly the skipper begged sorrow and forespoke to dance a hymn for Nae’s welfare. Then she bade her crew take the holystones and again scour the spot. Afterward, and to show forgiveness, I sang a blessing as well.   We camp tonight at Hesenyana, a small freehold I had erever given little thought. It is unbemarksome but that it stands upon its forebear’s wreckstead: Old Hesenya, one of the Yaro’s first cities founded by the Warrior-Queens, one of its greatest until the Thief-Queens burned it down. It was shortly refounded by the Warrior-Princesses of Halla when they tried to win back the strath and overrun their foremothers’ elder home. Yet the Thief-Queens unforbearably burned it again. Now these freeholdfolk get trade from flatbarks like ours wending upflood and downflood. I have heard they seek acknowledge as a true city, although the Yaro’s others naysayingly withhold.   Yet for tonight’s purpose, when we met the holdwife, she spoke they keep a shrine within Greenmother’s temple wreckstead, and wherein fittingly grows a milktree. While Nae still wept unsoothingly, I overlooked to Draue and Sievae, who nodded. So I gathered all our flag’s wives. Then, since Nae would not walk, we lifted and bore her to the wreckstead. There we laid her among the milktree’s roots. Then we yielded a tithe to the treesinger and told the day’s sorry tale. She outsang to the tree, and we danced Greenmother’s hymn while Draue and Sievae cradled their wifelove.   While we danced in mindshare (and although the milktree is young, even its mood answered our sorrow), I witted another mind beyond the shrine. Hanos Nae’s manmate knelt among the wrecked gateway’s stones. I headed to him and beheld sadness. Earlier, when he had sought to soothe Nae, she had oversorrily withheld, and he still ached to lighten her. I hinted to Draue. Together we led him inside, and then softly drew his mind with ours.   At his first wit, Nae quailed until I almost feared she might forsake. Yet under Sievae’s heartenship, she stayed. Together in mindshare, she and Hanos could not unheed each other’s hearts. Then Nae sobbed anew at losing Hanos’s life from her womb, whose child she had forewilled to bear. Our faithful Korasha ran to her, set brow on her belly, and swore to yield his life if it would save her and their child. Then they wept together while we danced aring. At the later end, Hanos lifted her childlike, Nae’s head on his shoulder, long legs dangling, and carried her to the wayhall. He took no help when we yielded. Then he set her abed and hugged her near until sleep.   Even now the others sit watch and sing through the nighttide while I write. We pray for Nae and beseech she never may know this hurt again.