Sea God of the Sands: Book One of the Firebird’s Daughter Series (Firebird's Daughter 1)

by Kyrja

  He’d drown during the worst part of the battle. And he’d taken a sword to his chest. He remembered the pain. The terrible tearing of flesh, and the look of surprise on the man’s face who’d skewered him. He’d truly been amazed to have won the fight between them. And well he might have been surprised. He’d been no older than Kaya and had no skill with the weapon someone had shoved into his hand. Savaar had been reluctant to fight him, but knew there was nothing he could do but give the boy a clean death. He had come to war at the summons of his goddess, and could do no less than to give his best. Still, he’d seen the fear in the boy’s eyes, and the knowledge he was about to die. He could feel the uncertainty, the utter lack of knowledge of how to even go about fighting in the way the boy stood. He, too, had no choice. Perhaps the boy remembered he was fighting for his god and had all the protection he needed; Savaar saw the look in his eyes shift. Saw the decision solidify. After all, they couldn’t very well just stand there, in the middle of a battle and look at each other, could they? Sooner or later, someone else would come to kill both of them. He saw the boy lick his lips, then thrust the sword at him. Almost casually, Savaar had deflected the blow, then felt his head explode. Someone had come from behind to smash his skull for him. As he fell, the sword dropping from his numb, useless hands, the bones of his legs suddenly no longer supporting him, he watched the boy thrust again, this time finding his mark. The long shaft of metal slid neatly into his chest, puncturing his flesh as easily as a fork through scrambled eggs. There was no resistance at all.

  It was odd to remember the water racing up to greet him. He’d never felt as if he’d fallen at all. His face was suddenly, simply submerged. He hadn’t remembered there being a lake right there. He hadn’t remembered any stream or river or even a puddle anywhere near where he’d been fighting. There was the ocean, of course, but he’d stayed clear of the shoreline, knowing the heavy sand would weigh him down, making him more vulnerable.

  Still, he’d fallen into water; there was no mistake. When he’d awakened again, he’d been drenched. Soaked through. Even his hair was thoroughly wet, yet he never found the water he’d drowned in. It hadn’t been the wound to his skull, nor the sword thrust that had killed him, it had been the water. His friends had told him, he’d been dead. No heartbeat. No breath. Swantzon had even tried to get him to breathe again, had given him the breath of life, but he’d been dead. Stone-cold dead. They’d left his body for burial among the others. But awaken he did – giving every man and woman there a terrible fright.

  He’d laughed it off, of course, reminding all of them that he’d already been drowned once. “Amphidea protects those she drowns in her service,” he told them. Then he vomited until he couldn’t stand anymore and slept for two days and two nights. When he’d come to a second time, his wounds were healed and he was hungry. There was nothing more to do, but to simply put one foot in front of the other and get on with the business of living.

  Kaya – he’d been a boy then in truth, no matter that they’d put a weapon in his hands –had been miserable, wanting nothing more than to die and be done with the world that had betrayed him. He’d truly believed his god would prevail against all enemies far and wide and had been distraught when the smaller force arrayed against the monstrosity of his own army had won the day. Not only had the majority of their soldiers been slaughtered, but the priests and priestesses had been picked out for a particularly brutal method of execution. No matter where they’d been, among the seething mass of humanity that was their army, each had found themselves suddenly sinking into the earth beneath their feet, unable to move. No matter the force used to aid them, the very soil sucked each of them under the dirt, the stones, the water, literally squeezing the breath from their lungs until they suffocated.

  Of the thousands of enemy soldiers who’d stood upon the beach that morning, arrayed against their significantly smaller force, only a few hundred remained by the time Savaar had found himself healed and unexpectedly alive. Kaya had been one of a couple handful who’d been unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the camp, on suicide watch. Someone who has decided they have no reason to live has no reason not to do all they can to destroy those they view as their enemy, even if it means they are sure to be killed for their actions. Savaar could see that Kaya was beyond even thinking of survival, let alone hindering his captors.

  There were others in that small circle who’d been as despondent as Kaya had been, but at least they were eating or drinking. Some in the suicide circle were violent and belligerent; those he had no problem reminding exactly who had been on the winning side and who had lost. There was just something about the boy that tugged at him. Even when he’d rotated off duty, the boy’s welfare nagged at him non-stop. At a loss to understand his preoccupation with him, Savaar found himself stepping forward when asked who would claim the boy as a slave. He’d never thought about owning a slave before; he’d never really even thought about having a mate before. He’d known he was well past the age when most men would have found a wife or husband or at least some kind of partner to spend their life with, but he’d really never wanted to invest that kind of time in wooing someone. And he certainly didn’t want to have to compromise his way of life. It was because he was unfettered that he’d been the first to volunteer to go to war for the Sea Goddess. And why not? He’d had no ties, and it was a rare opportunity to see a part of the world few ever did. Sex was easy to come by, and he preferred not to have to clean up after someone else, so he had no reason to not be alone.

  So being preoccupied with the boy had been almost unnerving for Savaar. Unsettling in a way he couldn’t explain. And though he found the idea of owning another human being repugnant, what else could they do with the enemy survivors? All their leaders, both military and religious, were dead and they’d left nothing but destruction in their wake. With every city and village they’d marched through, their army had grown in size; most able-bodied men and women had either joined willingly or been forced to as the will of their god. Well, perhaps not all of the soldiers had worshipped the god of their conquerors, but from everything that Savaar had learned, most had at least found the idea of being on the winning side of the god a laudable goal. There was simply no place for them to return to. Perhaps they should have all been killed out-of-hand, so once the graves were dug, or the funeral pyres turned to embers, there wouldn’t be anything left to do but to go home.

  But no one had asked Savaar what his opinion in the matter was, so he’d stepped forward and became a slave owner. The first thing Kaya had done once he’d taken his new charge back to his tent was to have offered himself for sex. The idea rather amused Savaar on the one hand, but had also made him feel dirty on the other. Sex freely offered was one thing, but this kind of offering had only been done as a kind of defiance, he knew. Kaya refused to allow himself to be raped, but was helpless to prevent it, so offered himself instead. Savaar wasn’t sure he could have done the same if their positions were reversed. And he knew that without the intervention of the Sea Goddess, he most certainly could have found himself in the very same, unenviable, position Kaya had. He had to admit, even if only to himself, that he’d thought about it for the briefest of moments, only because it had been such a novel – and startling – idea, but rejected Kaya’s obnoxious offer. While he’d had his share of sexual encounters with other boys his own age before reaching adulthood, and two rather interesting encounters with men since then, he found that he preferred sex with women. Even though most had no concept of how and where to touch and caress a man besides the obvious, there was something about the slick warmth of repeatedly thrusting his cock inside a woman that undeniably made up for any lack of their imagination or experience.

  Kaya was startled, his shoulders bunching, when Savaar barked a short note of laughter out loud, amused that his thoughts kept coming back around to sex these days. He’d obviously been without far too long and would have to remedy the matter once they were home; sooner if possible. It was going to be a l
ong trek across the desert, but there was simply nothing he could do to shorten it. At least he had a decent traveling companion in Kaya. The boy never spoke too much nor too little. Savaar had become quite fond of him and wondered how he would fare once they reached the end of their journey. It would be a far different life than the one either one of them had been leading for the last several years, that much was certain. He wasn’t sure how either one of them would adjust to being back among people on an everyday basis, nor was he certain just how Kaya would react to some of the ways of his people. Still, there was no going back now. They were on the way to the Temple of Life and there was nothing either one of them were likely to do to change that fact now.

  Kaya suddenly stood up as if he’d heard someone, or something, coming. Cocking his head to one side, his eyes narrowed. Savaar remained sitting, watching. He could sense nothing amiss, nor hear anything out of place. He looked around slowly, wondering what it was that had caused Kaya to stand up so abruptly.

  “Something’s coming,” was all he heard Kaya say, then Savaar felt the ground fall out from beneath him and found himself fully immersed in water.

  Chapter Six – Under Water

  Jarles could never quite understand how it was that he could actually breathe while under water, the very same as though he was standing with his feet on sand, but his hair was always affected by the current. Too, his clothing would always billow and then hug his body, and he could feel the pressure of the water as it moved over, around, and past his body. It was much the same as the wind, but very different all the same. While the air might push and tug and pull him in different directions, it rarely had the same weight to it that the water did.

  And he would never have imagined that each kind of water could be so very different if he hadn’t experienced it for himself. There was little credit that he might give to the Sea Goddess, but he seriously doubted she misrepresented the different kinds of water that were present throughout the world. No, he was fairly certain that swamp water was much different than that of the water he’d found while submersed in a river stream. Nor was the liquid of a large, fish-filled lake anything akin to the roaring surf pounding against a mammoth outcropping of a mountain side. Each had their own feel, their own taste, their own sounds, and their own personality. The water itself, no matter its location, temperature, or the surrounding terrain, seemed to possess some quality or presence which spoke to him. He knew immediately whether he had been left in a cesspool of death and decay, or if he was surrounded by a space teeming with health and vitality. Nor was the lack of light an automatic indicator, he’d found.

  It had taken him quite some time to accustom himself to being suddenly plunged into a body of water between one step and the next, between one heartbeat and the next. And oh, how he’d hated Amphidea for the fear she’d caused him. Afraid to inhale for fear of immediate death in the worst possible way he could imagine, he’d practically drown himself looking for an escape route. He could not, however, drown, he discovered. No matter how many times he’d attempted to simply will himself dead while under water, his heart continued to beat and his lungs continued to draw air. He’d thought he might be able to beat the Sea Hag at her own game by simply dying, but found it was just impossible for him to drown. Even when he opened his mouth to drink in the water, it was no different than when he drank while out of the water. Trying to draw the water through his nostrils so he would have no air did nothing more than give him a headache.

  He wasn’t quite so reckless while on land, though. No, he wasn’t truly suicidal, despite the pathetic existence he’d come to accept as his lot in life as the supposed heir to a vile goddess. Nor had he tempted fate while interacting with the fascinating array of creatures he’d encountered in the waters where Amphidea sent him. He’d emerged from one encounter with a huge turtle bleeding, with one of his finger practically bitten off, and a slash across the palm of his left hand. He carried the scars of that encounter with him to this day.

  Today, she’d plunged him into the sea again. There were times when he didn’t mind the experience so very much, other than the fact that she was the cause of it. To be able to simply walk through the water, whether at the bottom of the sea or swimming with a pod of dolphins was sometimes quite pleasurable. Racing through the current with a river, or feeling the bubbles of a spring tickle his skin were both exhilarating. Sometimes, he had to admit, it was fascinating and even fun. There was absolutely nothing he could do to extract himself from the situation, so he often went exploring. He’d tried just sitting, or refusing to interact with anything around him, but it was impossible to sit still for long. Even trekking through the desert day after long day was boring. Sitting still on the rocky bottom of a rushing stream, or half-buried in muck and slime in a swamp offered even less appeal. Too, no matter how dark the water, or filthy, he could see clearly, could sense every life form for what seemed like a very long distance all around him. He could breathe and even eat if he wanted to; many of the plants he’d tried were bitter, but some had interesting flavors.

  Names of creatures and even the bodies of water he found himself immersed in all came to him the moment he realized he was no longer in the desert. How else would he know the difference between a stream or a spring? Where would he have ever heard of a shark or an eel or crab? Corals? Reefs? And all the incredible flora and fauna that stretched out everywhere around him! The colors and textures and even the smells! If not for the fact that she had been the one to send him to these places, he would probably have enjoyed the adventure of uncovering each new life, each new plant, each new creature and what each place had to offer.

  She’d tried to trick him, and on more than one occasion, but he’d been ready for that, of course. Amphidea had told him – repeatedly – that his mother had lied to him, because she’d been afraid. But she’d made a grave error when she’d tried to convince him that his mother always held his father’s death against her. That wasn’t in the least true; his mother would never have dishonored his father’s sacrifice by giving Amphidea credit for it. His mother had always told him the decision had been Jonath’s. It was his greatest gift to her, his gift of love. Remembering that his parents had loved him to have sacrificed so much was sometimes the only thing that kept him sane. Even when he wanted to rail at having been the result of a purposeful program of breeding and he had no control over his own destiny, he remembered his mother and what she gave of herself so that he would be born. She had loved her Jonath with the whole of her being, so had given all she had in the loving of the man. In the short time he’d known his mother, that was the one thing that she had impressed on him, that she had loved and had been loved. And so had he.

  There were so many things he wished he could share with her, so much he thought might be possible if she was just here to talk to. Of course, she probably wouldn’t be able to come with him to these wondrous places, he thought. Then he sighed, and almost laughed out loud when he saw the bubbles push themselves out of his mouth to race towards the surface. It was so strange the way this whole ... thing ... with Amphidea worked. It wasn’t the first, nor even the hundredth time he’d thought so. If he couldn’t drown himself with the water, why should he be able to blow bubbles when exhaling? It was just so strange. All of it. He wasn’t even really sure exactly what it was that Amphidea wanted him to do as her supposed heir. What did an heir really do?

  Wasn’t an heir someone who took over once the ruling king or queen died? Amphidea was a goddess. She wasn’t going to die any time soon, if ever. What was the point in having an heir if they never ruled? And he was obviously mortal. He had blood running through his veins. He could sweat and cough and cry real tears. He had to eat and drink and shit just like everyone else. Just what did a goddess need with a human as an heir? Even his mother hadn’t known the answer to that question. She only knew that what the lore taught was Amphidea’s heir was supposed to bring balance of some sort. And that both Giya and Amphidea had agreed to the pact of sending all des
ert-born children who could sense the water beneath the sand to the Temple of Life so the Sea Goddess could one day produce the right mix of whatever it was she needed in order to create the one person who would make everything all right again. Nobody seemed to know much beyond that small bit. It was maddening sometimes, utterly maddening.

  There were moments when he really thought he should just go to her and ask what she wanted, but he knew that was futile too. Even if she told him precisely what her plan was, and how he was supposed to “save” anyone, he wouldn’t be able to trust her. She would sing some sweet song and lead him along until it was too late to do anything at all but to submit. Just like his mother had. Just like his father had. They had each given Amphedia exactly what she asked for because neither of them felt as though they had any choice. If they failed to agree, then he would never have been born. His father had given his life. His mother had told him repeatedly that he had to offer his life to the Goddess of the Sea as a gift with the full knowledge he would never again be reborn. Just like his own had been, his mother’s birth had been specifically designed so that she would be the one to give birth to him. So, in the end, neither of them was anything more than a tool for the gods to use against each other. And what if he did manage to kill himself, or just had an accident and died or caught a disease? Then what? Everyone would die? The world would end? And what was the point to all this endless water anyway? Why did she keep throwing him into the sea or river or lake? What purpose did that even serve?