"In Search of Paradise Ch.2" by H. Coyne

"Rise! Rise!"

Gwyneth muttered darkly into her furs, it was too early by at least two hours. There wasn't even a hint of daylight.

"Out of bed my sisters!"

At this hour I have no sisters, Gwyneth thought before she shifted in her bed, drifting back into the gloom. But the thunderous voice would not relent.

"Especially you little Gwyneth. We need a keener. A song from the keener!"

Gwyneth opened her eyes halfway. "A song of what, your doom? It's hours too early."

Maeve's laugh was as broad as her strong shoulders. "Sing of new lands and new places, little one."

Bawron drums began to sound as Maeve yelled above the rising din, "We have arrived!"

Memory possessed Gwyneth. She dressed carefully and hummed a song of new beginnings, usually for the dedication of a Dayne's new hall and laced it with a seafarer's lament. Her voice was not glorious, but it was clear and it told stories. Young grief had colored her.

Before her mother died, the women said it was the death of her infant twin that shaped Gwyneth to be a keener. To be so close to loss so soon would make a keener of any, or so they postured. Gwyneth did not see how an event she could not recall could shape the timbre of her voice. The old women prevailed in their murky beliefs, though, and a keener was made of the girl. At least the lessons got her out of extra weaving.

Gwyneth climbed out of the flurry of activity below deck into a solemn ritual. The men wore their iron boar helms and mail and wrapped themselves in pelts. The women had braided their gold and gray hair and adorned themselves with broaches and earrings carved from boar tusk or molded in bronze and set with stones the color of fish scales. Gwyneth wore her mother's necklace of shells and a coral comb in her hair. The travelers looked fine, like a wedding party ready for battle.

Each stared across the sea at a plateau of indigo. The skin drums beat in somber unison as Gwyneth walked slowly to the prow of the ship. The mound of land hypnotized her, she began her song without knowing.

"With trouble we have strove

With the high streams

The tossing of the salt waves

And the path of the wanderer.

Hearts and Dayne call us

To a land of foreign men

And forgotten friends.

Our spirits twist in our breast

And fly toward them.

Where is the hall?

Where is the fire?

Where are the pyres

Of our fathers?

On the shore we shall

Find sons not fathers.

But they will be strong sons

And we will build fires

Once again."

The drums stopped and the Karadurians listened to the lapping water and birds, thinking on the keener's song and what murky future hunched before them. The Eldorman Hale, stood beside his daughter and addressed his men and their families.

"We are Dayne's men and we have done his will. You are mighty men of war and valor who have brought noble wives and fair children to a new land. We have lost some on the sea path." Hale grew quiet, commiserating with their sorrow. When he spoke again, it was with meditative depth, "They fly from this life into the next like a sparrow from our longhouse into the wide world. A pleasure that leaves us too soon for better air. As our lot grows dimmer, theirs brightens. But the Eternal One consoles us. Let us remember them and thank the Eternal One for all arrivals. Our own and theirs."

Most of the mourners didn't believe in Hale's Eternal One, but they were envious of the solace He brought. Their gods had proved unkind and quiet in this struggle.

Hale's voice began to shed its somber tone. "We have a new home and new duties. Let us honor them as we have so many times before. We will be met by the Dayne's brother who rules in this land. Show him the fealty due."

The ritual ended slowly as the Karadurians shuffled about, readying themselves for their arrival. Only Asrafel and the pilot remained still, their eyes fixed on the brightening shore. 

~~~~~

It was a strange coast they found. The sand stretched beyond the deep beach into hills patched with tufts of bushes and strange kelp like plants with blooms made from thick leaves. Low, tangled plants fell from small yellow ledges like a woman's unruly hair. It was a light colored land, not shrouded by boulder or boughs. Stranger yet, they had sailed from a land chilled in fall and found a land basking in summer.

 The Karadurians of Candera did not wear furs or ornaments to greet their brother clan. The Dayne's brother wore rings only to show his status, not celebrate their arrival.

His hair was dark and his beard was only a week old. His jaw jutted out like a wolf's and his eyes were narrow and a murky hazel.

He was the only man who had a horse, and he leaned against the animal's neck until he delivered his brief welcome.

"I'm Laird Daegal. And I command your fealty, for my brother has sent you to me to create a new kingdom. Serve me and your pyres will be lined with gold and you shall wear fine spoil until the end of your days. Defy me and I will deliver you naked to the monsters of this land, and there are many."

Hale stepped forward. "These are strong men and fair women, Laird Daegal. All they produce is good, so their service to you will be no different. If treated well, they will be your best men."

Daegal looked coolly down at Hale, and then to the maiden at his side. The color of her hair made his temper twitch. The color was just like Thena's, but the girl's sea-colored eyes were from her base born father. Thena's eyes were clear and pale, the finest green he had ever seen.

Daegal kicked at his horse's ribs. "Let us hope you tell truth, Eldorman. Follow us to the stone keep." He gloated to the travelers. "In Candera the men do not build with weak trees and earth, but hew out the rock. We live like giants of old."

In Karadur, the only stone structures had been reduced to rubble before Gwyneth's people inhabited the land, but the men of Candera had resurrected the ruins. Cut rocks stacked precariously high lorded over the travelers. Gwyneth already missed the long and low wooden halls of her home. Oh to see the Dayne's hall again with its golden roof and green pillars!

She turned to her handmaiden. "Have you ever seen a stone house like this before, Asrafel?"

"Yes, higher too."

"My eyes spin and ache staring up so high." She rested her hand on the outer wall, "And the stone's so cold. It will be horrible to wash my hair in winter."

"There is no winter in this land. You will be glad for cold stone."

Gwyneth's gaze kept moving over everything as she spoke. "You keep telling me that, but I find it hard to believe. I will persist in my false hope until the last possible moment."

"You chastened Edgard for the same flaw."

"There's a difference. Edgards' a twit."

The party stopped before the stairs into the keep, where a slim woman and her dark- haired daughter stood, blocking the gate. The women were regal but it was thru a mixture of beauty and disdain that did not inspire praise so much as demand it. The girl's nose twitched at their approach, as if she smelled something unpleasant.

Daegal gestured up to the feline looking pair. "My wife and first daughter are here to welcome you."

Gwyneth mumbled into Asrafel's hair. "'Welcome' is a generous term for what they're giving us."

The royal women barely inclined their heads towards the group, expressing the enormity of goodwill they felt. The door opened and the group shuffled into the courtyard, but as Hale and Gwyneth passed Daegal, he stopped them.

"Hale. It has been a generation it seems since I saw you."

Hale answered in a neutral tone. "It does seem so, Daegal. You look accustomed to your land and position."

Daegal almost smiled. "It suits me. I see you have a daughter like me. I have three sons as well, but they spend most their days exploring the land." His smile became cruel. "Do you have sons?"

Hale's large hands rested on Gwyneth's small shoulders; he was proud to show her off. "I have my Gwyneth." Hale continued with a smile, "She is occasionally less trouble than sons and consistently much prettier."

Daegal chuckled low. "So she is. She will have to visit with my daughter. They will have many things in common." Daegal nodded, dismissing himself from the pair.

Gwyneth's demure look turned into a snarl the moment the Laird rode away. "Hateful man".

She parroted. "Do you have sons?"

"A pox on his sons, they're probably gone for a reason. Too ignorant to be allowed around company."

Hale clucked. "Your tongue is full of sour ale, Gwynnie. Asrafel, I'd hoped she'd learn a little from your example."

The Nishani stared back mutely and Gwyneth made a huffing sound. As they walked into the keep's courtyard Gwyneth said defensively "I kept my peace while he was there."

~~~~

Gwyneth's pangs for the halls of her home grew sharper when she saw where she was to live. Laird Daegal and his prized men lived in the great stone keep that encircled a cluster of small dwellings made of lesser stone and a strange thatch of waxy leaves and mud. The new Karadurians were relegated to the little dwellings. They were not cramped, or entirely unpleasant, but they were not home.

The women spent most of the first month nesting, and adjusting to the persistent sun and its heat. The new cuisine also took some experimentation and general getting used to. The seeds they brought from Karadur varied in their success, so the food had to be a mixture of both lands. They ate their stews with onions and wheat bread, but filled them with this ocean's fish. They made their cheese but with goat's milk as cattle was scarce. Gwyneth had developed a taste for this land's small pulpy fruits, and especially for dates. They were soft in her mouth and tasted like mellowed honey.

In the months of adjustment Gwyneth even caught herself weaving rugs and lighter tunics. It was a grave and dire situation when she turned to the loom for aid. Asrafel seemed cheered by the clime and terrain, but a strange sense of wariness inhabited her. Her caution was highest whenever she came across another Nishani in service to Daegal's household.

 Sheltered as the Kaardurians were, the rhythms of their lives began to faintly resemble what they'd known in Karadur. When Daegal began calling the men away on tasks, the women were adjusted enough to tolerate their absence, and the men were eager to be of use.

Feasts were not as frequent as in Karadur, but as time trudged on Laird Daegal began having feasts in his stone mead-hall. All was going tolerably well, making it a perfect time for things to take a downward turn.

When he spoke to his daughter about his new commands, Hale buried his suspicions under duty.

"Laird Daegal is sending me to the Eastern Karadurians beyond Chaq Hor. Holt is coming with me, but the rest will be Canderan men."

Gwyneth stopped rolling the dough before her, letting the motes of wheat flour settle.

"Why, Father? What is in the East?"

"Men to recruit for this keep and men to trade with. We'll carry gifts and messages."

"Why doesn't he send his own men?"

"I am one of his men now Gwyneth. I am a gift from his Dayne brother." He laughed. "Sometimes I feel the Daynes are odd men to make presents of us."

Her father had left a dozen times before, for bloodier purposes than trade, but, strangely, this departure made her spirit dim.

"Promise me you'll return."

"I promise the will of He who is will prevail."

She beat the dough with the heel of her hand. "That is little comfort to me."

"The Eternal One 's comfort and promise is all goodness. You need to look from the sky Gwynnie. See all things as He who is does."

Gwyneth said nothing. She was incapable of such a perspective, still childishly clinging to her world. In the quiet of her heart, she knew she was wrong, but her heart could not overcome her will.

"I will leave in two days time, and after that I hope you will speak with the Eternal One on my behalf."

Gwyneth could keep this promise, "Always, Father. I always do."

The women gathered at the border of the keep to bid their husbands and sons a good journey and safe return. Many women promised to leave gifts to the Karadurian god of might and wisdom, Baalthore, for the men's sakes. Others painted their men's round shields with boars and horses for strength and speed. Gwyneth embraced her father tightly as they prayed aloud for his safe return. The Eternal One's comfort soothed Gwyneth's fearful heart as she petitioned His mercies. She and Asrafel anointed her father's shield with oil and prayers, but their rituals ended there.

"I have something for you Gwynnie before I go," Hale said. He pulled a leather wrapped present from his supplies. Gwyneth accepted the parcel with the same care that it was given. She recognized the gift by its weight, a sword. It was a straight double edged blade and suited for her size with a bronze inlay and pommel. The pommel was fashioned with a design of tiny shells wreathed in waves, and the grip wrapped in leather cord.

Gwyneth did not fawn over weapons, and was neither hopeless nor adept with them. This was a costly gift from her father, though, and it reminded her of a favorite story.

"I think Manara's sword would have resembled this," Gwyneth observed.

Hale smiled, glad she had caught on to the significance of the design.

"Asrafel and old Wylin will teach you to use it better. But I pray it will be no more than sport for you." Hale turned with a grin to the quiet, bronze Nishani. "Asrafel, I have not forgotten you. I am told your people tie such things to their spears." Hale pressed leather cords hung with green glass beads and bronze feathers into her hands.

Asrafel said nothing but held the cords to her heart. Hale was a good man, and kind master. 

Hale looked down at the two girls warmly. His eyes twinkled and he smiled beneath his gold beard.

"Don't look so lost, little ones. He who is will catch us all no matter where we go."

Gwyneth smiled, and hugged her father if only to bury her tears. The Eternal One had given her heart comfort, but her faith in His goodness was weaker than her father's.

"I love you father, come back to us."

The second part of the phrase was lost as Gwyneth pressed her face into his furs and leather armor, so Hale only responded to the first half.

"I love you too, Gwynnie."

Gwyneth and Asrafel watched the men ride away until the wriggling black dots vanished into the deserts borders. Asrafel went about her duties, but Gwyneth stared into the distance until the light began to change.