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

by Kyrja

  By the gods it hurt though! He remembered a day many years ago when he’d been drowned and wondered if it had hurt as badly then as it did now. He’d been a boy, a mere child. He’d been determined to earn Amphidea’s favor by giving his life to her in service. His mother had asked him to wait another year, or at least another season, when the sea was warmer, but he knew she was proud of him just the same. All mothers worried about their children; she’d told him from a very young age he was destined to serve the Storm Goddess and had prepared him to do so. His father wasn’t as pleased though. He’d never argued with his mother where raising him was concerned, and he hadn’t done so that day. Instead, he’d taken his hat and left the house, casting one last worried look at them before quietly closing the door behind him. Savaar had never understood his father’s reluctance for him to serve Amphidea, since he’d done the same. Still, he hadn’t objected. But Savaar would have very much liked for his father to have stood in witness to his drowning.

  He didn’t remember this kind of terrible pain then though. In fact, if he recalled correctly, it had almost seemed disappointing. He’d wanted to be brave and die for his Goddess, certain she would accept his service by bringing him back to life. He’d gone under eagerly, his eyes wide open in acceptance of Amphidea’s judgment and not more than a moment later, he was laying on the beach, puking up half the sea. Oh, but he’d felt exultant then! He’d been accepted!

  Savaar could feel his stomach cramping, could feel his body trying desperately to rid itself of the water pouring into his throat. He was trying to cough it all back up, but there was nothing he could do. He was drowning and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He could see his outstretched arm above him as his body started shutting itself down. He didn’t even have the ability to pull it back to him. The last thing he would see in this life was his hand, reaching for the surface. It just seemed so unfair somehow. When he’d been killed that last time, at Kaya’s inexpert hands, he’d thought he might be unable to die, but refused to really think what that might entail. He knew he’d drown then, although he couldn’t recall the details. He’d been soaking wet when he’d awakened, unable to find the water in which he’d drown. And now ...

  Savaar tried to keep his eyes open, to let Amphidea know he still accepted her judgment all these years later. He’d gone to war in her name, and had lived his life in her service. I hope I have served you well.

  Savaar’s body fell slowly through the water, his clothing billowing out from his cold flesh, his hair floating in front of his now-closed eyes. He saw neither the beauty of the wonders surrounding him, nor the dangerous creatures who would soon come to investigate his corpse. His lungs no longer sent bubbles of air spiraling forth from his nose or mouth, as his body no longer produced that precious commodity. One might think it is a quiet death, to float serenely through the sea, gravity pulling your body inexorably to the sands, shoals, and corals below. But every body of water is rife with life, filled with creatures both large and small, seen and unseen by human eyes. If you but have the ears to hear, there is much to witness. In this instance, it was a sound previously unheard which echoed through the depths, heralding a sight long unseen.

  Savaar cried out in pain, the sides of his neck on fire. His hands flew automatically to the strange sensation as the very flesh on the sides of his throat split apart. As his fingers tore at the skin, his head thrashing from side to side, he realized he was alive and still underwater and could breathe! With his eyes wide, and his heart racing, he held his hands in front of his face. There was some kind of skin or webbing between his fingers! By the gods – what was happening to him? He looked all around, as if searching for an explanation to present itself, to explain what had happened. He’d died damn it! He had died again, and he was alive – again! What was happening? Why was this happening to him? He tried to take a deep breath to help him clear his mind, but found he couldn’t inhale through his nose. Instead, he felt the sides of his throat open. He shivered in revulsion, afraid now of his own body.

  “Control yourself!” he commanded himself, then covered his eyes with his hands when he realized he could talk out loud under water. He drew a slow, shallow experimental breath in through his neck and found it was easier than he might have thought. Exhaling, he glanced back and forth, looking for the telltale bubbles to rise, but saw none. He realized he was suspended in the water; he hadn’t yet reached the bottom, but he was no longer falling. He kicked his legs, feeling himself rise, then cursed when his feet suddenly felt like they were on fire. Quickly reaching for his boots, he ripped them off to confirm the same strange, thick skin that was between his fingers was also between his toes.

  “Wonderful,” he muttered under his breath. “Now I’m some kind of duck or ...” his voice trailed off as he finally realized what had happened to him. He was stunned at the enormity of the possibility. There were stories – there were always stories – but that’s all they’d ever been. Just fantasies for those who enjoyed a good tale or two. Sailors and fisher folk were always telling tales of the creatures who had once roamed the seas. They were half human and half sea creature. Or, sometimes, less than half human and more wild creature. The stories always began with “Legend has it...”

  But now! Now it was real! He was real! Wasn’t he? Or was he just dead and didn’t know it yet? Was this some kind of punishment, or was it a reward? Was he dead and now he would swim throughout all eternity in some strange underwater world? And how was he to know whether it was a punishment or a blessing? Surely he must be blessed, wasn’t he? He’d never doubted he’d served Amphidea with all his soul, and now he was dead. It made a mad kind of sense, if he thought of it that way. But if that was true, shouldn’t there be more half-creatures here with him?

  “If you would serve me, my son, you must save that mortal from drowning.”

  The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere and no place at all. Later, he would never be able to say whether he actually heard a voice, or if it was only in his mind. Nor did it seem to matter to him at that moment. It was Amphidea, the goddess he’d served with the whole of his being throughout all of his life. And in that moment, he knew exactly what she required of him. His entire focus was suddenly trained on the scene far above him. He felt the world around him narrow to the nothing more than the man, the woman, and the dolphins struggling through the sea. Without thinking, without hesitation, he began swimming in their direction. At first, he swam with his arms, as if pulling himself through the water, but quickly understood he would move much more quickly by using his legs and feet alone. Never before had he swam so swiftly, so cleanly, slicing through the sea as if he was flying.

  He could feel the pulse of life around him; every living thing within a very large radius. Everything was amazingly alive! He could feel heartbeats and movement. He knew exactly where everything was and whether it was healthy or not. He could sense the woman’s heart was all but stopped and the man – the Heir?! – what did that mean? The man was mentally exhausted. He was being drown in thought and images from the woman and unable to disconnect from her. A small voice inside of Savaar said he should have been amazed to know and understand these things so casually, but for the moment, they were of no consequence whatsoever. The Goddess of the Seas had given him a task and all that mattered was that he complete it. Information was relevant only to the task at-hand. Emotions and wonders were things which would wait until after he’d saved the woman.

  When he’d first seen them, they’d seemed impossibly far away, but now he was closing in and could feel the terrible confusion the dolphins felt. They were filled with fear and even anger. They didn’t understand what was happening to them, only that they must take these two to the air above the water. They were racing there as quickly as they could, as if their very lives depended on it. He knew they could sense his approach, but didn’t know what to do about it. They were absorbed in their task in a way they would never understand Savaar knew. To compel a creature to do what was beyond
their nature to comprehend was cruel and he wondered why this whole scenario had even come to pass. It didn’t matter, of course. Not now. It might later, but right now it was his own mission to save the woman.

  Swimming as quickly as he could – which was very quickly indeed, he soon found out – he overtook the strange spectacle, not bothering to approach with caution. There was no way he was going to gain the trust of the dolphins for them to slow their pace nor to help them to understand he meant them no harm without losing precious time for the woman. So he did the next best thing. He swam too fast for them to swerve or change course, grabbing the woman by her shoulders as he passed. He adjusted his hold on the woman, continuing upwards, towards the surface. He looked back quickly only to find the dolphins had immediately dispersed, and the man was floating unresponsive in the water. Savaar could sense he was in no danger of drowning, so left him suspended there in the sea with the thought he would return for him if it was possible. As he was turning his attention back to gaining the surface though, he saw the man disappear. It shocked him so much he actually stopped, causing the woman’s body to loosen in his grip. Pulling her closer to him, he turned back towards the surface, reminding himself he was unconcerned with the man. His mission was to rescue the woman, nothing more and nothing less. He knew he would have many questions as soon as he found the surface, but until then, he need only concern himself with doing as Amphidea bid.

  And with that thought, he found himself face down, with a mouth full of sand, his arm still wrapped around the woman.

  Chapter Nine – The Crystal Goblet

  The goddess looked into the crystal goblet and smiled. Of all the gods and goddesses, only she - Siri Ventus – could see into the crystal goblet of the future. She, who had always been blind. She of the Element of Air, so often blithely ignored as a lesser deity. It always amused her when she thought of how it had come to her. The goblet was formed of the power inherent in the creation of the world, an errant pocket of crystalized energy really, nothing more. It was the unexpected result of the moment in time when so many powerful beings had lavished their focus, attention, and energy on one small planet in all the cosmos.

  It had stood unclaimed, untouched, and unknown until Lumas had become Giya, only being discovered after much time had passed. Siri knew Giya had found it in the depths of the spaces between the very roots of the mountains and the seething lava below, submerged in the never-before seen underground springs deep, deep beneath the endless sands where the desert meets the mountains. Giya had known it was something extraordinary, so she’d kept it to herself, gently dislodging the vessel from the rock surrounding it over a vast amount of time. The goblet itself was made of crystal and looked like nothing so much as a perfect chalice set atop a slender stem. In the depths of darkness and quiet, where none but pale, sightless creatures had ever ventured, she’d discovered the strange device gave off an eerie cast of light. The brilliant glow was what had caught her attention, making her seek out the cause.

  Giya had taken a very long time to finally remove the goblet from its resting place among the dark stones of that treacherous place, where it lay half-submerged in a freezing pool of water that had never known the touch of sunlight. She didn’t simply pluck it from the water to see if it would continue to shine though; she could feel the power pulsing through it long before she approached it. Instead, she raised up the mountains and lowered the water so it would dry. She pushed the desert sands back and moved the fish away. And through all that movement, the crystal did not break or shatter. Nothing dire occurred as a result of her efforts. Nothing she could feel throughout the entire world. She took a very long time to test it using every sense, every nuance, and every power at her disposal. And so she took form and breathed upon it. When nothing came to pass, she finally reached out and touched it.

  It wouldn’t have mattered what formed she used when she finally did, the result would have been the same, Siri knew. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And that might have been the end of the story. Giya might have simply smirked that smile of hers and thought the strange goblet nothing more than an oddity, a mystery in the vast cosmos to be pondered and put away until another day. But with the falling of the night, she received a visitor. In fact, she received two.

  She and Amphidea had both approached her. Each had visited her on various occasions in the time since she had settled herself within the earth of the planet she claimed as her home, each seeking her permission to remain. Each of them knew they could have been rejected or, having been rejected, they could have fought for their positions – and worship – among the humans who sprawled across the vastness of the little world under the Sun God’s protection. They had been a part of the world much longer than she had, after all. But each of them knew Giya was Sov’s favorite and neither wished to attempt to wrestle control from him or to anger him overmuch. No, there was plenty of room for all the celestial beings who inhabited the small planet. Besides, even working together might not be enough to make a difference. And if they were triumphant over Giya, it was entirely possible she would take leave to rejoin Lumas. Once they were whole again, there was always the possibility Sov and Lumas would leave the planet behind to find another world to begin again. Siri rather enjoyed her life exactly where and when she was, so was willing to compromise. Of course, such a compromise most certainly didn’t mean she would remain content with the small number of worshipers she enjoyed. Of course not. All deities were dependent upon their human counterparts to grow and become more powerful. None, she knew, would ever be content to simply sit idle century after century, stagnating.

  It had been Amphidea who had approached her, appearing one clear night when the moon was dark, as a slender finger of water rising from the surface to beckon Oculis closer. Dear, sweet Oculis, who flew to all corners of the world at her bidding. He appeared as an owl to those few who had the opportunity to see him. White of wing, though tipped with the darkest of feathers here and there, his eyes were hers with which to see the wonders of the world. He knew her heart and mind as no other ever had nor ever would. Bound by her love of him, he had served her through many long centuries. As he had that night as well.

  Amphidea had risen from the sea, bowing to him that he might feel more at ease. She’d even provided a solid wave of water that he might rest while she spoke with him. Siri had appreciated the respect and courtesy the Storm Goddess demonstrated and so had listened attentively as she’d suggested they form a loose alliance. Siri had been both intrigued and cautious. Amphidea, Siri knew, was Sov’s sister, and while sibling rivalries often made for great sport by those who cheered from the sidelines, one was wise not to believe they were absolute. There was always some invisible line over which an ally or mischief maker might inadvertently trip, only to find oneself irrevocably cast aside. Siri very much preferred not to find herself in such a position. And so she had agreed to visit Giya at Amphidea’s side, alert for an opportunity to make herself useful to either her erstwhile ally or their hostess, depending upon which might prove more beneficial.

  She had, indeed, been delighted to have been witness to the events which had played out that night. In the course of their discussion, Amphidea had made mention of the lowering of the water table beneath the desert. She was concerned, she said, for the welfare of the plants, the animals, and the entire ecosystem of the area. She had used very specific, careful wording, giving deference to the Earth Goddess, and her unalienable right to re-create the land in whatever manner she was wont to do, while gently rebuking her for having put the desert’s delicate lifecycle in jeopardy. That’s when Siri knew Amphidea had already known the cause of Giya’s activities and wondered if the Storm Goddess was playing her for a fool. She watched through Oculis’ eyes as Giya brought forth the crystal goblet, disappointed all her efforts had been for nothing more than a unique, though useless, bauble.

  Amphidea had feigned disinterest, with disdain for Giya’s carelessness etched in every feature of her beautiful, flowing face. Turni
ng away from the goblet when it was offered for her inspection, she had cut her eyes to Siri with a very clear message: This was something they could use against Giya if she played her own role correctly. Damn her! If only she had made mention of such an opportunity, she would have been more prepared. Shrugging off the useless thought, Siri had taken the beautiful color-changing crystal, marveling at how heavy it was, feeling something within it come to life immediately in her hands. She had stilled her features only with great effort, excited at the many pulses she felt shifting through it. As she tilted the cup towards her face she nearly unseated Oculis from her shoulder where he always perched. She felt his talons squeeze as he communicated his unease with the vessel of knowledge, wisdom, and future events she held in her hands.

  “Should this not be filled with water?” she asked quietly, aiming her cold, white, sightless eyes toward Giya. Her lips formed a small smile of polite inquiry. The Earth Goddess had turned to Amphidea who complied with reluctance, lifting her hand to spill liquid from her fingertips into the goblet. In that small moment, unseen from Giya’s vantage point, Siri had moved her own finger just enough to touch Amphidea’s hand, communicating her intention.

  And oh! How easy it had been to lie to Giya! Perhaps she hadn’t understood the very nature of the beings with whom she had shared her small, disappointing bauble. Perhaps she was less than whole because she’d divided herself between the world below and the skies above. Perhaps she’d never had reason to distrust others before, or to question their motives. Whatever the case had been, Giya had made a grave error in judging her guests that night. Siri had convinced her the goblet was indeed, beautiful but useless, then implored Amphidea to take but a moment to see if she might, perhaps, find some use within the crystal. Surely, she’d said, such a rare item shouldn’t be left undiscovered if there was even the smallest possibility it might be of some use. It had taken some effort, but the Storm Goddess had finally agreed, if with something less than eagerness.