Brocc
Though not so very distant in miles, this place seems as far from home as a land of ancient story. There is a quality about the island that unsettles me, a strangeness words are not adequate to describe. I wandered into a cave near the western point, a place of great stillness, with a subterranean pool that catches the light from an opening far above. When I looked in the water I saw a reflection that was not my own.
At least Liobhan is making the most of her opportunity on Swan Island. That justifies my decision to come here with her. Nobody knows how dearly that choice cost me, and I will make sure nobody ever does. My parents gave me the best family in all Erin and the most loving home any son could wish for. To leave that behind set sadness in my heart and laid cold fingers of fear on my spirit. I am not afraid to fight. But I am afraid to walk out into the unknown and perhaps find answers to questions I do not want to ask.
I am doing my best to win a place on the island, despite that. Our training has served Liobhan and me well. We can hold our own against the sons of chieftains, men who have been expertly trained by their fathers’ masters-at-arms. Liobhan has more natural ability than I, as well as a stronger determination to succeed. She drives herself forward with an intensity that is almost frightening. I see the others watching her, and I think they are torn between envy and outrage that a woman can fight so well. That she does so with such clear purpose, harnessing her strength to the task, confounds them. Some try to goad her with derisive comments; they suggest she might warm one man’s bed or another’s. She gives them short shrift.
Thank the gods for music. The harp is my map and lodestone, my balm and comfort. It quiets my circling thoughts as nothing else can. I sing and play every night. Even when I am fighting, my mind teems with tunes and verses. I am glad we have the opportunity here to gladden folk’s hearts with our music. I had thought, in those first days, that Liobhan’s passion to prove herself on the field of combat might see her setting aside music as a waste of her time and strength. But no, still she sings, and folk hush to listen.
I wish I could write a letter to my mother and father. I would relate the tale of our experiences on the island. I would send my love to Galen, and my regards to Prince Aolu. And I would finish by saying that although I miss them all, the opportunities offered here are so great that I would not think of leaving. Who would not want to excel? Who would not want a chance to change the course of battles or to influence the minds of the powerful?
But I will not tell lies. Not even in my thoughts.