~Sibeal~

We had made the voyage from Inis Eala to the serpent isle in five days. The homeward trip took much longer. We were not harried by storms or driven off course by howling gales; quite the opposite. After one day’s brisk sailing, nature decided to remind us that it was summer. The clouds departed. The air warmed. The winds took a rest. We floated, trailing our new sea anchor, for six days before a northerly came up. The crew raised Liadan’s sail, the square of woolen cloth bellied out, and to the accompaniment of cheers, we headed for home.

I had been seasick only for the first day or two. After that I kept myself busy helping Gull tend to Thorgrim. Indeed, I kept myself very busy. I managed to present an outer shell of calm, lending a hand wherever I might, sitting in silent prayer, keeping myself to myself. Under that still exterior I was a stew of raw feelings, and every day they bubbled closer to the surface. There was, in truth, no silent prayer. When I sat cross-legged with my eyes closed, I could neither pray nor meditate. All I could think about was Felix. The passages of lore that had once come so easily, the patterns of breathing I had been able to summon in the most difficult situations had slipped away; they were beyond me. When Felix was up on deck, fishing with Sigurd or talking to Cathal, I longed for him to come back so I could look at him. When he was close by, the merest glance brought back the thrilling sensation of his lips on mine, and the desolation of stepping out of his embrace. I could hardly bring myself to speak to him, lest I break down completely. Ciarán would have been horrified.

I was not too preoccupied to feel pleasure at our survivors’ progress. Thorgrim was managing to keep his food down, and looked better by the day. Though weakened by his ordeal, Donn had from the first been eager to work. Gareth had asked him to join the crew, allocating him tasks that were within his reduced capacity. As for Colm, little ailed him physically that rest and good food would not quickly mend. His mind was a different matter. Felix listened patiently to the boy’s endless recounting of what had happened, what he had seen, what he had felt, and reassured him that his old life waited for him back in Munster, and that in time the nightmare would fade.