Sea Queen

Copyright © 2014 Michael James Ploof

All rights reserved.

ISBN-13: 978-1501079771

ISBN-10: 1501079778

I ride with elf to his homeland, mine we leave behind. Old heart leaps to dream of wonders awaiting. What magics I seen done by moss-haired one leave me giddy as sixteen-spring lass. I sense Talon move farther from us, but I take heart in my dreams. He has defied gods, foiled the Chiefson. Spirit wolf walks with him. I take heart in my dreams.

-Gretzen Spiritbone, 4997

The Strait of Shierdon, Sumar, 4997

Talon sailed toward Shierdon and his heart leapt even as it broke. The sensation was strange, something he had never felt—freedom. He stood upon the threshold of discovery, the world laid out before him. The ocean would bring him anywhere. The rations Azzeal and Amma Gretzen had given him would last him weeks. For the first time in his life he was the master of his destiny. The island of Volnoss—his prison since birth—had faded into memory on the northern horizon as he sailed away into the night. Here, in between worlds, where dreams began and nightmares ended, he felt the magnitude of the world. And he was humbled.

To his right a group of long-nosed whales arced up to blow their air holes before disappearing once more into the eternal waters. Whenever they regarded him and his raft, their eyes reminded him much of the elf Azzeal. They were patient, understanding, and seemed to peer right through to his soul. Held in the gaze of the colossal beasts, he sensed a kinship of spirit that left him shaking. They existed as kindred travelers upon the currents of time, fighting for their place in the world.

As he sat watching the whales, lost in his introspection, he failed to notice the ship until it came startlingly close. He searched the raft and open seas, but the vast blue waters offered no hiding place. His big white sail stuck out in the moonlight like a star against the deep dark heavens. Talon turned back to the whales but found them gone, and envied the sea creatures and the ease with which they’d disappeared. He feared the ship would be a Vald Whaler—the Skomm slaves of Volnoss did the majority of fishing, but the Vald enjoyed the challenge of killing whales, and blubber had ever been one of the staples of the Volnoss barbarians.

Talon fondled the figurine that housed Chief’s spirit. He had dismissed the spirit wolf shortly after setting out, because he’d acted so uncomfortable on the raft, but was considering summoning him back as he watched the ship. Returning to Volnoss was not an option—he would fight to the death if need be. He still had the small hammer, hatchet, and knife he’d used to build the raft, as well as Kyrr, Azzeal’s ring.

As the ship approached from the west, he untied Kyrr from Akkeri’s red ribbon and slid it onto his finger. The weight of Azzeal’s gift gave him courage, and he faced the ship unafraid. The vessel drew closer but did not veer in his direction. Talon sighed relief when it passed a few hundred yards away and sailed on. It wasn’t a barbarian whaler, after all, but a big three-mast ship like the ones traders came on.

Talon turned his attention back to the south and sat behind the mast once again. He untied the rudder’s securing line and steered himself toward Shierdon, with only the moon to keep him company. By noon the next day, the coast came into view and his spirits soared. He wished more than ever that Jahsin and Akkeri stood with him. They had spent so many nights imagining this moment.

“We did it, Jah,” he said, to the glass jar containing his friend’s ashes.

He drew closer to the coast and surveyed the shore—rocky and steep, with violent waves sending plumes of sea spray high into the air. He considered sailing east to look for a place to put in but decided to go west instead. The Eye of Thodin had moved west from Volnoss, and likely Akkeri would have made landfall in that direction.

He took care not to be dragged in by the surf, and steered his raft west for a half an hour before finding a calm patch of beach to land on. He veered toward it and nearly burst with anticipation. The raft hit the surf and lurched, sending ocean spray up and over to crash down on him. All the while Talon laughed with glee. The waves came from behind, swiftly carried him in, and set him down on the golden sand. He leapt from the raft and gave a triumphant cry.

He held the timber wolf trinket out before him. “Come, Chief, you’ve got to see this!”

Blue mist swirled out, and wrapped around him twice before solidifying. Chief danced in circles on the beach and went to sniffing around. The ocean waves crashed to shore once more and the wolf jumped, startled, and made his way higher up on the dunes.

Talon wasted no time in collecting his pack and Jahsin’s ashes. He pulled the raft up on the beach and let down the sail. He didn’t want to leave evidence for barbarian search parties to find.

“Come here, Chief. Help me get this raft out of sight.”

Talon secured two lines and they pulled the heavy raft off the beach. It was hard work and took the two of them a good ten minutes, but they eventually got it over the high dunes and out of sight from the ocean. He took a long pull from his water skin and surveyed the land around them. Tall brown blades of grass covered the rolling dunes to the south and eventually led to more dense foliage. A sparse tree line gave way to a thicker forest. Some of the plants he recognized, yet most he did not.

They sat on a large stone near the water’s edge as Talon ate from his rations, marveling at the foreign landscape. The sky was mostly clear, with only faint puffs of scattered clouds lingering lazily. He stared north toward Volnoss as he ate, and thanked his stars he was far from the hated Vald.

Though it was only afternoon, he decided to make camp for the night. Having not slept since before setting out, he thought it wiser to start out again at dawn, fully rested.

Talon uncorked the jar of Jahsin’s ashes and waded out into the ocean until the water reached his knees. The waves lulled into the coast, raising as high as his waist, before receding back and pulling the sand beneath his feet with them.

He raised the jar to the sky and spoke to his friend. “I’m sorry Jahsin, I should have killed Fylkin when I had the chance. If I had, you would still be alive, and the three of us would be together now. I know I can never make it up to you, but I will try. I’ll return to Volnoss one day and free the Skomm, as was your dream.”

Talon’s voice broke and he took a moment to collect himself, cursing his weakness for the thousandth time. He wiped angrily at his tears and poured half of the ashes into the ocean before returning up the dunes, where Chief stood waiting.

“Goodbye, Jah, I’ll never forget you.” He spread the remainder of the ashes in the wind, which carried them inland toward the forest. Chief perked up to watch as they disappeared.

Talon slumped down on the sand and wept, unable to curse away his emotions. Now that he was finally away from Volnoss, and the pressure of having to escape was gone, the pain of his losses set in. Chief lay down next to him and whimpered for his master. Talon smiled through his tears, grateful to at least have his oldest friend with him.

That night he sat on the dunes, watching the sun set beyond the curve of the coast. Twilight came and went, and soon darkness covered the world. The moon crested the horizon over the ocean and lit the water like a silver sunrise. Talon stretched out his bedroll on the raft and slept beneath the stars with Chief at his side.

It was his first night in Shierdon, his first night as a free man.