Praise for Daughter of the Goddess Lands:
“Kalie is neither a warrior princess waving a sword or a beautiful seductress dressed in shimmering gowns. Instead she's someone who must overcome her own terrors, even as she finds herself assuming the role of a reluctant heroine... So if you want to 'hear' a story that will challenge both your thinking and expectation, (and you will hear the many stories Kalie tells), Sandra Saidak's well-written debut novel of raw courage is waiting for you.” – Sam Barone, author of Dawn of Empire
“A masterful epic journey about trauma, healing, love, hate, and the loss of a prehistoric world we can never find again. Debut author Sandra Saidak mesmerizes with clear vivid prose and heartfelt emotion.” – Valerie Frankel, author of From Girl to Goddess: The Heroine’s Journey in Myth and Legend
The Seal Queen
by
Sandra Saidak
Published by Uffington Horse Press, San Jose
Text Copyright © 2013 Sandra Saidak
All Rights Reserved
Excerpt from Daughter of the Goddess Lands by Sandra Saidak © 2011 by Sandra Saidak
Cover art by Donji Cullenbine
Acknowledgements:
People, who offer feedback, support and hours of their time for everything I write. Thanks also to my wonderful husband Tom, who has stepped up to deal with much of the technical side of things, daughters Heather and Melissa, and Charlotte Fisher, mother and editor.
A big thank you to George MacDonald, who convinced me to embark on this crazy venture and who remains steadfast in support and assistance. Special thanks to two very special artists, Donji Cullenbine and Fred Capp who created two unique and beautiful covers for this novel. Donji’s appears on the edition you now hold, and Fred’s will reappear on an upcoming young adult novel set in the same universe.
I also had the good fortune to have this novel edited by one of my favorite authors. So if you can’t find any typos, thank Irene Radford, as I now do. And if you haven’t yet discovered her books, check out her Merlin’s Descendants series—one of my favorite!
Note To My Readers:
This novel began on a beach in Capitola, California, in the mid-1990s. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway with my husband (and it was definitely that, too); one of our first since becoming the parents of a delightful daughter. I guess all the elements of my life came together sitting on that hypnotic beach: the need for tranquility and unplugged quiet after trying to be a full-time mom and a full-time teacher for almost two years; the desire to escape into simpler times; the need for magic in my life—and being sick of waiting for the next Earth’s Children book by Jean Auel.
While staring at the waves, long after my husband was ready to go wine-tasting, I began to imagine a woman living on beach, the only other human being the child she had given birth to there. I began to wonder, as all writers do when gifted with such a vision: why was she there? Who was the child’s father? Why were they alone? By the time I left the beach, I knew seals would be part of the story, and when I began to research the various types of shapeshifting seals in folklore, I knew I’d found my story.
I hope you enjoy The Seal Queen, and I hope to hear from you when you’re finished reading. You can reach me at [email protected] or leave a comment on my website www.sandrasaidak.com I’m also on Facebook.
Now sit back, enjoy the book, and may the magic take you someplace special.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER 1
The captives had reached the end of the world.
That’s what it seemed to those who had never seen the ocean. Briah, who was the last to reach the top of the bluff, heard the wailing and shouting, followed by the cursing of the overseers, and the familiar sound of whips striking flesh. Yet when she first set eyes on the endless stretch of water, Briah, who had never even imagined such a thing existed, felt something calling to her in the surging, pulsing waves. Blue, green and white; the movement captivated her. She took a deep breath. A rich, salty tang filled her lungs, speaking of life and mystery. It woke an excitement within Briah that threatened to shake off the complacent despair of slavery that had been her lot for the past four years.
The overseers prodded the slaves down the steep incline toward the water. A curious excitement bubbled inside Briah. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to go there. Moving carefully, as she had to now with her protruding belly growing larger every day, Briah reached the bottom and cried out in delight at the feeling of sand between her bare toes. The other slaves were not so pleased. Everyone had to learn how to move quickly in this new environment as the overseers herded them toward a strange wooden house that leaned into the water.
A man stood on the roof of the strange house, between two straight trees that grew without any branches, yet taller than any roof-beams Briah had ever seen. The man shouted down to the merchant who owned Briah and the other fifteen or so slaves. After some heated bargaining—Briah was so used to the patter now she could understand it no matter what language was being spoken—the merchant climbed up a ladder on the side of the house, then ordered his men to bring the slaves. As they drew closer, other men climbed up the straight trees and hung huge pieces of white cloth from them. That’s when Briah realized the house was actually a boat—just bigger and stranger than any she had ever seen—and that they were going to sail in it to someplace unknown. Rather than fear, Briah felt only excitement.
She was still considering the implications of her strange behavior, when two little girls, sisters of about six and eight summers, who had been carried off only days before, and never seemed to stop crying, grabbed at Briah’s skirt and began to scream. Briah pulled them close, and comforted them as much as she could, perhaps because there had been no one to comfort her when her own nightmare began. “Don’t be afraid,” she told them. “See? Old Crooked Nose”—their name for their current owner—”and his scum are going with us. Think you they’d go if it wasn’t safe?” She helped the girls up the ladder ahead of her, and then climbed carefully up herself.
Briah was just starting to enjoy the view and the strange rocking of the ship when they were all pushed toward a dark hole in the floor. For the first time since coming to the shore, Briah remembered she was a slave; remembered what fear was. She did not want to go into that hole.
Just then, a gentle breeze blew from the water before her, tickling her with a playful touch. Briah inhaled again of its rich, salty scent, and drew courage from it. It was as if the very air around her was telling her not to be afraid; that all would be well. In all the fifteen years she had lived, Briah had never felt such a thing before. What strange magic did this new world possess? And why had the spirits of Briah’s own mountain home not shown their magic, and rescued her when she was captured over four years ago?
“Gods, this place stinks!” said one of the older slaves. “What horrible creature died here?”
“What didn’t?” snapped another.
Briah took ano
ther breath of sea-scented air, looked around at her companions, and realized none of the magic was affecting them. Even the girls who lived just a few days journey from here. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
A barking sound made her look more closely at the water beyond the ship. There, playing in the waves, were the strangest creatures Briah had ever seen. Although their sleek brown heads resembled the dogs they sounded like, their bodies were large and bulbous, and instead of arms and legs they had… something Briah couldn’t quite describe.
“What are they?” Briah asked the boy who stood beside her, while the first of the slaves were shoved into the hold.
“What are what?” he asked, so Briah pointed. “Why, seals of course!” The slave, clearly familiar with the ocean and its inhabitants, but feeling none of the magic that was becoming palpable to Briah, added with a snort of contempt, “Haven’t you ever seen one?”
Briah shook her head, while the seals swam toward the ship, as if exploring it and everything in it. As the sun shone on their lustrous brown and silver fur, Briah was struck by a sudden, frightening memory. Lir’s rooms had been adorned with fur like that, though she had never seen the living creatures from which it had been taken. She wanted to turn away, yet the living seals held her focus and she could not move. They seemed to be calling to her. Briah felt strangely light, as if she just could leap off the ship and into the water, and swim away with the seals. She pressed a hand over her eyes and shut them tightly. Had pregnancy or this long journey taken her senses?
“Hey!” called one of the sailors. “Have you ever seen seals do that? Just come right up to a ship before?”
“Out at sea, sometimes,” answered another voice. “But never this close to land. They know to avoid men.”
Briah opened her eyes in time to see one of Crooked-Nose’s men knocking an arrow to a bow. “Our good fortune then! I know traders who’ll pay in gold for those pelts.”
“No!” thought Briah. The arrow flew, straight and true. Yet, in the instant before it struck the largest of the pack, the wind sliced it away, and it fell harmlessly into the waters. Leisurely, as if they had nothing at all to fear, the seals turned and dove, disappearing from view. The sailors laughed, while the merchant’s hired muscle cursed loud and long at the loss of a good arrow, along with his dreams of riches. Briah smiled at the proof of the magic protecting those strange and wonderful creatures.
Even if the magic offered no help to her. But then, she had been a fool to think that it might. That wasn’t the way the world worked when you were a slave.
It was nearly with relief that Briah joined the other slaves in the bowels of the ship. It was dark and smelled foul, but it was certainly more familiar to her than the strange magic that hovered above, just out of her reach.
****
None of the human cargo knew how long the voyage would take, and the men in charge told them nothing. One of the older women said their destination was an island called Erin, far to the west and north of the mainland they had just left. The boy who knew about seals pointed out that they were being given water, but no food, which hopefully meant a short journey. Briah hoped so too, as the two girls who had done nothing but cry before, were now doing nothing but retching. They couldn’t even keep water down, no matter how slowly she dribbled it into their mouths. If they didn’t reach land soon, not all of the cargo would be alive when they did.
Unlike the girls, Briah did not suffer from seasickness. Although, she reflected, the fact that she never vomited might have simply been the doing of her unborn child, unwilling to give up any morsel of nourishment, no matter how much the ship pitched and tossed. Briah kept to a damp section in the curve of the ship where a tiny sliver of light shone through from outside. She put her nose to the crack and breathed in the clean, sharp air through which the slave ship sailed, and let the rocking of the waves lull her to sleep.
****
Briah dreamed she was back in Lir’s stronghold, at the top of a hill, far from her home, where the bad men had stolen her, just after her eleventh summer. His dwelling place was huge, and all the people there lived only to serve Lir. Enough people to fill a small village, but unlike a village, there were no families here. There were men; warriors who defended the place, and kept order, and often raided the surrounding countryside. There were women who served in the fields and the kitchens by day—and in the warrior’s beds at night.
And there were children. So many children. And their only purpose was to amuse Lir. Some of his games she did not understand at first. All of them were frightening. When she first arrived, the others told Briah that Lir was a god; that it would be her honor to serve him for the rest of her life.
Briah tried to wake up, but once again, she was back in Lir’s chambers, finely carved furniture draped in seal fur, terrifying images cast in gold and silver, looking down from the walls. “Now Briah, you have to try harder,” said the black-haired man with eyes like bottomless wells. His voice was soft, almost gentle as he mocked her. “You know you’ve been my favorite longer than any other. But you know what will happen once I grow tired of you.”
Briah knew. She tried not to think about the games Lir liked to play for the guests at his feasts; or the rituals that required the blood and bones of children.
“Please me now, while you still can.”
Briah looked up in surprise at the weariness of Lir’s voice. He wasn’t looking at her, but somewhere beyond the walls of his chamber, to a place only he could see. “Someday you’ll grow up; they always do. And then…” He looked so sad, so… empty, that Briah might have felt sorry for him if she had not been so terrified.
She trembled then, for she knew that if she survived to adulthood, the best she could hope was to be sent to the kitchens. Then there would be many men who would use her, and she wouldn’t be the favorite of a god, but just a common slave, but maybe that would be better… No! She mustn’t think such thoughts! He would know, he always did, and then he would…
Briah woke with a scream. She peered through the dimness into the hold of a ship. So she was awake, but still inside a nightmare. Most of the slaves slept undisturbed, but the woman next to her set a work-calloused hand her shoulder and squeezed gently. “You were once owned by the demon Lir?” she asked.
“You know of him?” Briah whispered.
“I’ve heard stories. They say he is immortal, and that he has learned to bend all the dark magic of creation to his will.”
And since they were many leagues away from where Lir sat like a spider in his lair, Briah repeated the story she had heard once, from a slave who she never saw again. “They say his father was a demon, but his mother an ordinary mortal. So he has demon power, but not immortality. And he’s been driven mad by the knowledge that one day, he will die. And pay for all he’s done.”
“I hope that’s true,” said the woman. “I hope one day, they all pay!” She rolled over and went back to sleep.
Briah remained awake. In the months since she had left Lir’s stronghold, her memories of the place had grown fainter. As she met other slaves, heard even more horrific tales, she had begun to wonder if Lir had really been anything more than a powerful madman. Evil of course, but there was nothing supernatural about evil. As the woman who now snored beside her had pointed out, there were many men who had much to pay for.
And yet… whoever or whatever Lir was, one thing was known far and wide: he allowed no one to carry his seed. His predilection for children made the point moot for the most part. But every so often, he kept a girl with him a little too long. As in Briah’s case such “favor” usually meant that he kept her starved so she’d stay a girl longer, and never develop monthly courses, but… accidents happened. In those cases he killed the girl himself, as if he did not trust his underlings. It involved some kind of ritual, Briah was told, known only to Lir.
Her hand strayed to her swollen belly. Yes, accidents happened. Somehow, without ever having bled, or shown any obvious sign of im
pending womanhood, Briah had become pregnant. And somehow, she had been sold before anyone, even she herself, suspected it. She knew she should hate the child, even fear him, yet she did neither. Though it meant nothing, for slaves were rarely allowed to keep their children, Briah loved the child she carried. She hummed a tune from her mountain home, far to the east, and drifted back to sleep.
CHAPTER 2
She awoke to the crack of the foreman’s whip. They had reached Erin during the night. Now, with the rising of the sun, the slaves were taken ashore.
Briah blinked in the sudden light, and stretched muscles grown stiff from lack of use. As she walked the narrow plank that led to a strange, new land, across an ocean she had never imagined existed, Briah watched the waves.
Even more powerfully than before, she felt their pull. Magic was strong here, and Briah had the crazy feeling that she was supposed to do something with it, if she could just figure out what. As she gazed into the waves, she saw the seals again. Whether they were the same ones as before she had no idea, but once again, she wanted to leap into the water after them.
Then the foreman’s whip fell across the back of the unlucky slave closest to the ship, and they were all driven away from the water. Quickly, they were enveloped into a noisy stinking, chaos that might well be the opposite of magic, though perhaps no less powerful. And while Briah had heard of trading ports from other slaves, none of their wild stories prepared her for the real thing.
Buildings clustered all around the harbor. There were mud and wattle huts like those from her own village, yet Briah’s whole village could have filled only one tiny corner of this place. Other buildings, made entirely of wood, stood tall or tilted drunkenly, surrounded by huts, tents and stalls. Narrow paths, paved with stone or planks of wood, crisscrossed throughout it all like a rabbit warren.
And buzzing about the place, like bees gone mad, were people. Mobs of people; more people than Briah had numbers for. There were men, women and children of all sizes, shapes and colors, wearing leather and fur, cloth and feathers, and, in the case of one huge red-haired man, nothing but blue paint. And everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere else.
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