Rise of the Forgotten Sun (The Sun and the Raven Book 1)

by Jon Monson

  “I am Aydiin, Prince-General of Salatia. You will unhand that man, or you will face my wrath.”

  Well, so much for secrecy.

  ◆◆◆

  “My face had better be back to its pristine and unblemished condition by the time we get to Genodra, mate,” Barrick laughed. “I hear the serving girls in the capital are picky, and I intend on having a jolly time while you’re stuck at state events.”

  Barrick sat inspecting his face in the mirror, the morning sun visible through the small window of the room they shared. Large bruises dominated his complexion, and his lip continued to split as he smiled.

  Aydiin mentally cursed himself for acting so brashly. In hindsight, he could have flashed some gold, and the sailors would have been more than happy to forget the whole situation. Instead, he had to reveal his identity to everyone on board.

  “What’s wrong? You look upset. I’d sure hate to face your wrath,” Barrick gave him a wink a smile with that last phrase. Saying that the men would face his wrath had felt so menacing and authoritative at the time, but Barrick had spent the entire morning mocking him for his word choice. Aydiin sighed as he climbed out of his hammock.

  The room the two men shared was small, but at least it was private. Barrick slept on a small cot in the corner while Aydiin had claimed the hammock stretched across the room. He’d always found the cloth net superior to even the best mattress – and the mattress on the small cot was far from the best.

  A small wash basin sat in the opposite corner along with a pitcher of water that could be refilled from the barrels below deck. A round mirror hung over the wash basin, which Barrick was using to assess the damages to his face. The room hardly seemed fit for a prince, but Aydiin didn’t care.

  There were only a few such rooms on board the ship. Taking passengers on the voyage wasn’t nearly as lucrative as the cargo, so comfortable rooms had not been made a priority. Most passengers of the lower classes slept in the crew’s quarters, which was essentially one large room with hammocks stretching in every direction. There was little privacy and even less hygiene. Overall, Aydiin was grateful for the small room.

  Leaving his friend to nurse his wounds, Aydiin went to the kitchens for breakfast. With his plate full of bacon, pickled cabbage, and a hard biscuit, Aydiin went above deck to enjoy the fresh ocean breeze while he attacked his nearly inedible breakfast. The bacon was actually quite delicious, the pickled cabbage less so, and the biscuit was only edible after several minutes of soaking in his mouth.

  With an entire voyage of meals like this, Aydiin would almost be glad to see Genodra, even if his bride-to-be waited for him. Sticking a large piece of biscuit into his mouth, he reminded himself that this was beginning an adventure. Edible food was never a part of the world’s greatest stories.

  “Nothing like a sunrise in the middle of the ocean to make you realize how small you are, eh,” a voice sounded to Aydiin’s side.

  Another passenger, an aging man with specks of grey throughout his jet-black hair joined Aydiin in staring across the waves. Just past his prime, the man stood with the agile grace of a warrior, his posture almost overly perfect. The accent marked him as a native of Margella.

  Aydiin had met very few Margellans – just like his homeland, the nation was also blessed with an abundance of minerals. Very little trade was conducted between Margella and Salatia since neither felt any need for the other’s goods.

  “It’s beautiful, yet lonely. I was actually sitting here, contemplating a decent breakfast,” Aydiin replied with a small smile. Just because he was afraid for his life didn’t mean he should abandon civility completely.

  “The food the merchant marines have on board is terrible, but it’s practically gourmet compared to the slop they feed men on military vessels. Besides, when you travel as much as I have, you get used to it. Bacon will never taste as good as it does at sea.”

  “So I take it you’ve seen a good bit of the world,” Aydiin said.

  “I’ve been all over the north,” the man replied. “Naerdon, Albona, Ghindi – none of them compare to Margella though.”

  “I would love to see the Imperial Library,” Aydiin said, pleased to hear that his initial guess concerning the man’s homeland was correct. “I’ve heard it’s one of the finest in the world.”

  “That it is, that it is,” the man replied, as he looked into the horizon. “I haven’t laid eyes on Madras in over twenty years.”

  Aydiin’s second suspicion was confirmed. It was not uncommon to meet Margellans wandering the world without purpose. The few he had met were part of a group who would never be able to return to their homeland - that is, unless they didn’t feel overly attached to their heads remaining on their shoulders.

  Since the Final Battle, Margella had been ruled by a line of queens. Twenty years ago, Queen Isbyl died without an heir to take the throne, which by itself was not an uncommon occurrence. Her death was followed by an uncommonly fierce war of succession, which resulted in the rise of the nation’s current ruler – Emperor Silvino. To back up his claim, the man had somehow found the Great Stone of Okuta – the God of Craftsmen.

  Aydiin could always tell an exiled member of the now defunct Queen’s Guards by their refusal to acknowledge that the capital city was no longer named Madras. Calling the city by its new name – Silvino - was too difficult for the men to mutter, since it was by the same name that they had lost everything. Aydiin knew that he stood next to a man who had seen his share of bloodshed and sorrow.

  “May I ask what takes you to Genodra?” Aydiin asked, mostly because he didn’t know what else to say.

  “Itchy feet, more than anything I guess,” the man said, idly scratching his thin beard. “I never seem to feel comfortable anywhere for very long.”

  “So out of all the places you’ve been, which one’s your favorite?” Aydiin asked.

  “Well, Albona wasn’t too bad. The weather was mild, the beer was good, and the women were pretty. The food was terrible though.”

  “I know a certain Albonan sitting below deck right now who would probably resent that last part,” Aydiin chuckled.

  “Oh, the stowaway,” the man said. “Yes, I was happy to see him not thrown overboard. Terrible way to die – swimming until you succumb to exhaustion. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

  “I’m just glad I was able to stop it,” Aydiin said, hesitant about discussing the event much further. It wasn’t just from embarrassment. He just didn’t want the conversation to stray to his identity.

  “I hear you’re the prince everyone hopes will assume the throne,” the man said. “That was a noble thing you did for your friend. I’m not quite used to seeing noble acts from those with noble blood.”

  “Well, we can be full of surprises,” Aydiin responded. “They’re usually the bad sort, unfortunately.”

  “True enough,” the man chuckled, setting his plate aside. “I’ve met plenty of royalty and nobility in my day. You’re one of the few who actually talks like a man.”

  “And you’re one of the few men I’ve met who is willing to speak so openly with a prince,” Aydiin said. “I like it.”

  A strange glow just beneath his field of vision caught Aydiin’s attention and he looked down. Still holding the pewter plate firmly, his hands were glowing with the same orchestra of colors that had been present in the Lonely Spire. He hoped his face wasn’t following suit.

  The old man’s eyes bulged slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

  “My name’s Sebastian,” the old man stuck out his hand, and Aydiin shook it, relieved to see the Markings disappear. “But my friends call me Seb. You’re an intriguing young man. Very curious.”

  “It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Aydiin said, trying to not let his nerves shine through. “If you’ll let me, I would like to call you Seb. And you may call me Aydiin.”

  Chapter 11

  Barrick, wake up!”

  Aydiin’s hands trembled as he shook his friend to rouse hi
m from an alcohol-induced slumber. A horrific odor clung to the man, a mixture of whiskey and body odor. His face still looked pale, although the wounds were beginning to heal quite nicely.

  “Wuzzur problem?” Barrick slurred. “Not decent shaking a man after a rough night.”

  The voyage had been enough for his wounds to heal. Barely a sign of the beating was left on his face. He’d kept to the cabin for most of the trip, afraid that some of the crew members would still like to throw him overboard given the chance.

  Yet last night he’d spent the entire evening gambling and drinking with the crew. Apparently, the festivities had been enough to forgive Barrick of trying to sneak aboard the ship. Aydiin suspected the fair amount of gold and silver he’d lost during the many rounds of cards also helped.

  “Get up, you lazy son of a goat,” Aydiin insisted, his patience growing thin. “Land has been sighted – the captain says we’ll be in the harbor by lunch.”

  “Then come get me for lunch,” Barrick grabbed his pillow and rolled over onto his stomach, covering the back of his head and ears with the feather-stuffed sack. “I know what time it is, and I know my rights. I have the right to sleep for another thirty minutes.”

  Aydiin scanned the room until his eyes rested on the porcelain jug holding their drinking water. As noiselessly as he could, he shuffled to the other side of the cabin. Picking up the jug, he flung its contents onto his hung-over travelling companion.

  “You’ll hafter do better than that, mate,” his muffled voice sounded. Now drenched, Barrick still refused to even turn over.

  “Barrick, if you don’t get up, we won’t have time to gather our things, which means we might be the last ones off the boat. If we’re the last ones off the boat, then we’ll be easily spotted by whatever low-level flunky has been sent to watch the docks.”

  “I don’t get yer point,” Barrick said, his face still buried in the mattress.

  “Do you want to doom me to marriage just because you can’t get out of bed?”

  “Well when yeh put it that way,” Barrick said, turning over and squinting his eyes against the morning light. “I guess I can help yeh out. Yer really nervous about this, ain’t yeh?”

  “Why would I be nervous?” Aydiin nearly shouted. “I’m only about to land on foreign soil where a woman is waiting to marry me. Oh, and on top of that, people are trying to kill me because of a Divinity Stone that doesn’t do anything. Yeah, I’m nervous.”

  “Ain’t no problem in life that can’t be made worse by complaining ‘bout it,” Barrick responded, slowly pulling himself into a sitting position.

  “Get dressed, and meet me up on deck,” Aydiin decided to ignore the pithy saying. “My stomach isn’t strong enough to stand both the rolling of the boat and your stench.”

  Aydiin exited the room with his already packed duffel bag, all too glad to smell the crisp salty air. It was far better than the musty air in their cabin, even on the days Barrick had decided to wash. The rolling and pitching of the ship didn’t change, however, and his stomach was feeling extra sensitive.

  Aydiin walked across the deck to the stables where Askari was likely snoring. He’d checked in on his friend every day during the voyage, and he’d been asleep each time. However, today he was likely growing hungry.

  As he reached the entrance to the stables, he was greeted by a low growl.

  “It’s okay Askari, I’m here,” Aydiin said, walking through the entrance. He stopped dead in his tracks.

  Askari stood in the middle of the room, large hind paw securing a very small boy to the rough wooden floor. His face was practically touching the boy's, whose eyes were full of tears. A soft whimpering escaped the child’s lips.

  Askari looked up, bringing his face away from the boy’s. With a sniff, the kerton abandoned the child and padded over to Aydiin. With a new whimper, the young man rose to his feet and wiped tears from his eyes.

  “What happened?” Aydiin asked, rubbing Askari’s nose as he nuzzled into Aydiin’s chest.

  “Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on him like you asked,” the boy began, and Aydiin blushed. “And I thought we’d become such good friends that I thought maybe we could go for a quick ride.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Aydiin said. “You should have asked. Kerton are very…sensitive. There are a dozen wrong ways to approach one for the first time and only one that ends well.”

  “Was he really going to eat me?” the boy asked.

  “If he’d wanted to, you’d already be eaten,” Aydiin responded. “I’m guessing he was just showing you who is in charge.”

  The thought that Askari was getting hungry enough to potentially eat a living, breathing person – a child, no less – made him sick to his stomach. He looked into Askari’s eyes and saw laughter.

  I was only been playing with the boy, his expression said.

  Well, it wasn’t a very nice game to play, Aydiin tried to express with his eyes. He never understood how Askari could say so much with just his face.

  “Please accept my apologies,” Aydiin turned back to the boy and tossing him a pouch filled with kurus. “Askari’s sorry too – he just doesn’t know it yet.”

  The boy scooped up the bag and ran out of the stables, giving the kerton a wide berth. Sighing, Aydiin led his somewhat unpredictable friend onto the deck. He hoped he wouldn’t try any more games today.

  With Askari’s reins in hand, the two walked over to the side of the ship. The city was in full view, the sun almost reaching its zenith. Aydiin placed his free hand on the railing and looked out over his destination.

  Palmas – the massive capital city of Genodra – stood with its skyline silhouetted in the late-morning sun. A mass of buildings nestled in among hills of deep green, the city seemed to stretch on forever. He knew of course, that it didn’t.

  Even from this distance, he could tell the city was nothing like Maradon. Having expanded so much since the invention of gunpowder, a city wall was considered obsolete and therefore absent. Maradon’s city wall, while intimidating, wouldn’t last more than an hour against an invading force equipped with artillery.

  However, protection was still needed and Aydiin could see large forts dominating a few of the taller hills surrounding the metropolis. One was particularly large, placed neatly atop the highest of the peaks. It probably held more firepower than the entirety of his father’s armies.

  More impressive than the forts was the skyline. Buildings stretching twenty or even thirty stories tall reached into the sky. At this point, there were only a handful, but Aydiin had heard of plans to build dozens more. It reminded him that not a single building in Maradon stood taller than four stories, except of course for the statue of Oosman the Great.

  The breathtaking vista reminded him that his father’s stubbornness was causing Salatia to fall behind. It reminded him of the wonders mankind was capable of performing. It also reminded him of why his stomach was upset.

  “You look worried,” Seb’s voice sounded from his side, and Aydiin jumped. The man was quiet.

  “Today’s the day,” Aydiin replied. “I’ve spent the bulk of this voyage planning, and it all comes down to the next few hours. From the moment we step off the boat, every minute, every step, every breath is planned. There’s no room for error.”

  “So you’re really going to abandon that lovely young girl?” Seb asked. “It seems a pity.”

  “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll be out of Palmas and into the Genodran countryside by sunset,” Aydiin sighed.

  “Well if you’ve got such a good plan, why are you worried?” Seb asked, a smile creeping along his face.

  “Because there’s so much that could go wrong,” Aydiin said. “We might be seen, or we might have a hard time procuring Barrick a horse in a city full of automobiles. I could even trip and fall, breaking a bone. The possibilities are endless.”

  “That last one seems a bit unlikely,” Seb chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve been through quite a
bit. A broken bone doesn’t seem like something that could keep you down.”

  “My biggest worry is that Barrick will let himself get distracted by a set of pretty eyes.”

  “Are you really afraid of that?” Seb asked.

  “That man is not exactly known for his self-control,” Aydiin said. “It wouldn’t be the first time his wandering gaze has gotten us in trouble.”

  “I do too have self-control,” Barrick’s voice sounded as the thoroughly hung-over Albonan joined the trio on deck. “Besides – yeh’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout. Nobody knows you’re on this ship.”

  “Except everyone aboard,” Aydiin sighed.

  “Right, but it’s not like they’ve had a chance to tell anybody else,” Barrick patted Aydiin on the back with enough force to rattle a tooth loose. “There’s some unlucky junior ministry employee who drew the short straw looking out fer yeh at all the ships tha’ come in. All we hafta do is avoid him.”

  “So we need to be on the lookout for a plump bespectacled government bureaucrat,” Aydiin laughed.

  “Exactly,” Barrick responded. “Should be easy enough to spot. Those folk tend to stick out among the dockworkers and such. We’ll be out of Palmas by sunset.”

  “I just wish there were a rail line out to the monastery,” Aydiin sighed. “It will take days to get there on horseback.”

  “Rail wouldn’t be any good on a trip like this,” Seb grunted. “When you don’t show up, you can bet all the gold in the Sultanate they’ll be looking for you. Every official hoping in the Republic will have his eyes peeled, and on the train, there won’t be anywhere to go.”

  “There’s always a window,” Aydiin laughed. “I’ve done it once, I can do it again.”

  “Well now you don’t have to, mate,” Barrick drawled.

  The city was drawing closer, much too close for Aydiin’s comfort. The skyscrapers had grown taller and more majestic at this range. He marveled at their beauty and hoped he didn’t have to see one close up. Their path outside the city would take them far from its commercial center.