CHAPTER ONE
Look to the beginning to find the end. The venerated matriarchs who held us in their wombs and nurtured us in their bodies could not bear to let us falter. To them we dedicate our praise, for they were First. What shall be Last is still unknown, but the journey of the seeker is not yet ended. May she uncover the truth before the end of things.
—THE AYALYA
Tai Summerhawk stalked through the streets of Portside, adjusting to the feel of solid ground under his feet after so many weeks at sea. The stench of horse dung mixed with diesel exhaust and a hint of sewage assaulted his nostrils. He longed for the equally foul, but far more familiar, odor of the selakki oil that filled his ship.
His first mate, Mik, matched his stride, his eyes constantly roving, searching for threats, as was the man’s habit. The last time Tai had been in Portside, he’d nearly been killed.
The silence between them was not the comfortable kind, but Tai relished the break in his friend’s constant haranguing. He’d almost rather have to fight a cutthroat or angry dockworker than listen to any more of Mik’s admonitions on how foolish this trip was.
“The king will have your head,” the man had stated almost daily, scratching his bushy green beard with thick fingers. “She’ll put you back in irons when she finds out.”
Tai had merely shrugged. The last time he’d seen his mother, the current king of the island nation of Raun, was two years ago when she’d sentenced him to hard labor for defying her as well as his part in thwarting his younger sister Ani’s apprenticeship to a rival captain. He’d served his time, not focusing on the backbreaking work, the heat of the sun, the stink of the vicious selakki that the chain gang fished from the ocean for slaughter and harvesting, or even his anger at his punishment. His only thought had been of fulfilling the promise he’d made to a dead man.
Mik knew exactly why this trip was so important. He’d been there and heard the dead man’s final words, knew of Tai’s vow. That was why Mik had been waiting with Tai’s ship, the Hekili, the day Tai was released, with a course already charted for Elsira. Ever cautious, the exhaustive warnings were just a part of his makeup. As cautious was not a word ever used to describe Tai, they made a great team.
The Portside neighborhood in the capital city of Rosira was different from what he remembered. There were still people from every nation on the continent mingling in the streets and pubs, but far fewer than normal. Entire sections of the dock were empty, whereas just a few years prior it would have been difficult to find a place for even his small ship.
“Rather deserted around here, isn’t it?” he asked Mik.
His friend nodded. “Elsira’s harvest has been small so far this year. Not as many vessels going from here to Yaly. Add that to your mother’s embargo and things have been slow to say the least. We’ll likely see very few Raunians here.”
His people were deeply involved in the commercial shipping business—both legal and illegal—across the Delaveen Ocean. Tai wondered how the Elsirans were getting on since King Pia’s edict barring trade in Rosira. That wouldn’t stop the most stalwart of smugglers—it certainly hadn’t stopped him.
“And on top of all that, they’ve got internal problems,” Mik said, motioning toward a group of men on the corner holding picket signs. As Tai drew closer, their chants rose over the din of horse-drawn carts and autos clogging the street.
“Elsira for Elsirans! Grols go home! Cull the herd! Grols go home!”
Tai caught several passersby looking askance at the protesters. One man, an Elsiran judging by his reddish hair and anemic coloring, scowled and muttered under his breath.
“What’s that all about, eh?” Tai asked him in the Elsiran tongue.
The man shook his head. “Damn fools don’t appreciate peace. Civilians, the lot of them. If they’d fought in any of the breaches, they’d be singing a different tune, I’ll tell you that. They’re afraid the refugees from Lagrimar are here to take something from them. Those poor souls just want to live free like the rest of us.” He spat on the ground. “The war is over!” he shouted at the protestors before walking away.
This land had changed much in a few short weeks. The Elsirans had been at war with their eastern neighbors, the Lagrimari, for centuries. But the war had ended six weeks ago when their deity, the Queen Who Sleeps, awoke from Her magical slumber. Even in a prison an ocean away, Tai had heard tale of the wondrous event. According to Mik, the Queen, now known as the Goddess Awoken, had ordered the two lands to be united into a single country. Lagrimari refugees were pouring in from their desert land into resource-rich Elsira in search of a better life. But the drought and the economic downturn, along with many lifetimes of hate between the two peoples, made unification a difficult proposition.
Tai regarded the protestors, a sour taste filling his mouth. “I need a drink.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in weeks, mate,” Mik replied.
They entered the nearest pub and sat at the bar. The crowd was light, and the mood inside somewhat somber. Maybe it was because of those idiots shouting in the street. Elsirans had always been small-minded and bigoted. Tai had been here countless times but never stepped foot outside of Portside. Until recently, the city’s strict immigration laws had always prevented foreigners from violating the hallowed ground and entering the rest of Rosira.
A surprisingly pretty barmaid set a cold beer in front of him, smiling suggestively as she did. He winked and brushed her fingers with his as he grabbed the tankard. Then again, not all Elsirans were bad. The promise in the young woman’s eyes and the refreshing liquid soon eased his ire. He would find out when her shift ended, but for now he needed to focus on why he had returned to Rosira.
Copyright © 2020 by L. Penelope
