by M. A. Roth
When she reaches me, her eyes focus on the ground as she stretches out my food towards me. “Princess.”
I take it, feeling confused at her behavior. “Thanks and it’s Sarajane.”
Her eyes shoot up and she just stares at me in awe and fear. I feel uncomfortable with her calling me Princess, my biological father might be a king, but that didn’t make me a Princess, having that kind of spotlight on me made me way too uncomfortable.
“Navada, please join us.” Mirium pats a space beside him. Navada bows to me and scurries over to Mirium. I focus on my food instead and I eat every bit of my stew and bread roll. No one speaks as exhaustion seems to have settled in around our camp. Once everyone is finished, they trickle off to their tents. Morrick, Mirium, Tristan, Neve and I are all that is left. Tristan and Neve dig into their own stew, and I can’t help stealing glances at Tristan.
“What do you make of all of this, Sarajane?” Mirium asks, catching me off guard. My thoughts leave Tristan as I scurry to think of what he means.
“Sorry, of what?”
Morrick looks annoyed with my response, and I want to tell him to leave if he doesn’t like how I speak. But I don’t.
“Saskia,” Mirium says gently with no annoyance in his voice. He’s just like my dream.
“It is different from my world.”
Morrick’s jaw clenches. “This is your world. You are not mortal, Sarajane.”
I shoot Morrick a glare. I knew I wasn’t mortal. Mum explained to me the day at the willows that we’re partial immortals; our lifespans are longer. But this isn’t what I meant, and his interference wasn’t welcome.
“I’m more mortal than Saskian,” I tell Morrick. Before returning my attention to Mirium who looks highly amused by the way I spoke to Morrick.
“And what does it mean to be Saskian?” he asks me with a glint in his eye.
This all feels like a test and for some reason I really don’t want to disappoint him. “Loyalty to this world is what makes one a Saskian.” I truly believed this. Tristan’s loyalty to his king never faltered, and Neve and Kiar’s to Tristan. It all trickled down, and their loyalty was unshakable, all for their world. I gave the right answer by the way Mirium’s eyes sparkle. “And what does it mean to be mortal?”
This seems a much harder question, but one image surfaces. I know this could cause trouble from Morrick. “Mortals value a life.” I know we have wars, but in everyday life, a life has a value, unlike the way Morrick struck down his son so easily.
Mirium considers this. I don’t look at Morrick, but I don’t have to, as his anger radiates off him, making its way to me.
“Sometimes it becomes necessary to take a life; it does not mean we value it any less."
“Well, I believe you should try to disarm someone before killing them.” This time I do look at Morrick, who looks fit to kill me.
Mirium touches his arm gently to calm him down, which seems to work. Now I feel silly for my words. I need to think before I speak. But I’m tired.
“If someone valued their own life, they would not attack you. Therefore, we wouldn’t have to kill them.”
I look at Tristan in astonishment by how passionate and sure he sounds.
“But why try to kill me in the first place?” I ask Tristan.
This is something that bothers me. Clive would have more of a reason to kill me than just that I was his half-sister or maybe he was crazy. Tristan remains silent.
“Because, my child, you are the biggest threat that some Saskians will ever face and the greatest gift to the rest of us.”
Now I feel doubley confused by Mirium’s words, but he isn’t finished. “Some of us are willing to give up our lives to save yours.”
“But I don’t want anyone to do that. I never asked for that,” I say.
“It is not about what we want in life. We do not choose our paths or our destiny; they are already chosen for us.” This is all getting very mythical, and a headache is starting to brew.
“And who chooses our paths? Because I’d like a word with that person.”
Mirium laughs genuinely. “And tell me, what would you say to this person?”
“That I do not want anyone to die for me. I have enough on my conscience already.” Not completely true, but I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for Clive. He was killed because of me by his own father.
“One day you may have the privilege of meeting our maker to ask your question.”
No direct answer so I ask a direct question. “And what is this maker’s name?”
Mirium smiles. “God, of course, my child.” Religion, a very shaky subject that I’m not going to get into. I don’t want to be rude so I nod at Mirium before rising slowly.
“I’m going to check on Kiar.” I excuse myself.
“I will come with you,” Neve says while walking beside me.
“That was cryptic,” I say to Neve once we are out of ear shoot.
“Mirium is… how can I put it, an oracle.” He says and I give him one long look.
“Like from the matrix?” I ask but the moment I do I’m grinning at Neve’s confusion. “You guys are missing out in so much,” I tell him and his frown deepens.
When we reach Kiar’s tent, he’s awake. His face breaks into a huge smile when Neve and I sit down on either side of his cot. His leg is freshly bandaged.
“How do you feel?” I ask while checking his temperature by placing my hand on his forehead. It feels normal to me.
Kiar beams up at me. “Better now that you are here, nurse.”
I laugh.
“Don’t fuss over him; he only got a little bite,” Neve says, shaking his head in pretend disgust.
We laugh and joke for a while. Neve and Kiar insult each other playfully. I yawn. The day’s occurrences start to set in on me. I kiss Kiar’s cheek and bid him good night, promising I’ll be back in the morning to check on him. Neve walks me to my tent that I share with Alana. Great, just what I need. She’s awake when I enter. My dagger is placed on the pillow on my cot. “Did you?” I ask, picking up the dagger.
“I found it and picked it up. I was going to throw it away. It’s a sorry excuse for a dagger.” She turns her back on me.
“Thank you, Alana.” She doesn’t answer. She’s pretending she doesn’t care, but she does. The dagger is clean, and it shines in the torchlight from being polished. “Maybe you could show me how to use it?” I ask.
She turns around; her face shows no emotion. “Ladies do not fight.”
She is one to preach. “You do,” I throw back.
She huffs and sits up. “I am a servant; you are a princess. Do you not get it yet? My life is to serve you. I am no more than your ghost.” Sadness fills her eyes.
I shake my head. “No, Alana.”
She laughs bitterly. “Don’t be so naïve. Open your beautiful eyes and take a good look around you. This is not an equal society like the world you came from. It’s about your bloodline, and you’re more important than the rest of us.” Her voice rises in frustration.
I look at her, lost for words.
“You are a sorry excuse for a princess.” She storms out of the tent.
Tears sting my eyes. Her words hurt more than I ever could have expected possible. Or maybe it’s everything that has happened today. Or maybe it’s everything that has happened since I arrived in this place.
I don’t remove my clothes as I have nothing to get changed into. So I lie on the cot and stare at the tent ceiling as I think about all Alana said. I think she’s really upset over having to be a servant, tidying up after me when she’s such a gifted fighter.
CHAPTER TEN
SARAJANE
I wake up feeling somewhat rested, but when I move my body aches. It’s like the morning after the first day back at the gym, when you gave it your all, only now to feel the pain. Standing up has me groaning but I do a few stretches to try to loosen up. Last night I had thought a lot about what Alana said, and before I left this w
orld, I wanted to at least do one thing, that could start to change things. There is a basin of water in the corner and I wash my face and neck with it. I’m surprised that my face still hurts, but it does. The pain makes me more determined to do what I need to do.
I walk through the camp with one destination in mind. Morrick’s tent. He raises an eyebrow when I enter. He’s seated on a rug with Mirium, enjoying a platter of fresh fruit.
“Ah, Sarajane, please sit,” Morrick says. Sounding very chirpy this morning. Now that I’m looking at him, I don’t want to. I want to defy him, but I do reluctantly. I sit crossed-legged. I don’t feel as confident now that I’m here, especially with Mirium listening. I want to ask Mirium why and how he entered my dreams. I remember vague conversations but when I woke up, it was just a weird dream. Looking at him and seeing he is real, I wonder why he came to me.
“Morrick, what decisions do I have as a princess?” I hold my head high as I speak, hoping my words sound confident.
“It depends what it is.” He pops a grape into his mouth, the movement irritates me. But I think anything he did he would irritate me. Here he was eating fruit not a day after he killed his son. What kind of man did that make him?
“What about jobs for people?” I ask and try to keep the bite out of my words.
“I would listen to your opinion.”
How I’d love to walk away from him but I lock my jaw.
“Why the sudden interest?” His distaste for me is plain on his hard face. Not the most loving father.
“I don’t want Alana as my servant anymore.”
Morrick looks aggravated now. “Sarajane, we have important things to discuss.”
In other words, I am dismissed.
“This is important to me. Alana isn’t happy running around after me when she was born to fight.” I hold up my hand so he will let me continue. “I think she’s worth more than my personal slave. She’s bright and strong, so I request you make her a guardian.”
Morrick looks livid. “Don’t be so silly. Never in our history has a woman been a guardian, and most certainly one with no affinity at all.” This was news to me. I hadn’t realised Alana had no affinity.
“I understand, but never in your history has a mortal become a princess.” I hope I have my facts right to prove my point.
“That is different,” Morrick barks.
“Have you ever considered her gift is fighting?” I fire back.
Mirium studies me. “What would you propose, Sarajane? That we throw our rules aside on a whim?”
He has a good point.
“No, but I would hope King Morrick would at least consider my proposal seriously. I’m not saying to change your rules. I just think when extraordinary people are discovered, then extraordinary exceptions should be made.”
Morrick seems stunned for a moment. “You feel very passionate about this?”
“Yes.”
“I will consider it,” he says before popping another grape in his mouth. A horrible thought arises that I hope he chokes on it. I’m not violent and I don’t want to be. It makes me like him then. I rise now wanting to get away from him. “Sarajane, as for now, Alana is yours personally. Understand that you can command her to do certain things within limitations.”
I’m surprised when Morrick gives me this information. It’s a loop hole as such, one I will use. I force a quick smile before I leave the tent. I rush back to my tent to tell Alana the great news, but it’s empty. I can hear striking swords behind the tents. Are we under attack? I creep around, keeping my head down. Tristan and Legis are practicing. Sweat soaks both of their tunics. Tristan moves effortlessly and I stand there watching his every move until Legis notices me.
“Princess?”
Tristan’s gaze falls upon me. My heart rate spikes, when his full stare is on me, and I nearly forget my words. “Have either of you seen Alana?”
“She is with Kiar,” Tristan replies stiffly before he returns to fighting. I don’t linger even as I want to but go to Kiar’s tent and as Tristan said, she is there. They’re laughing when I enter. Alana goes quiet when she sees me.
“Have you come to check on your patient?” Kiar asks, smiling.
“No, I’ve come to borrow your visitor.” I look at Alana; she doesn’t budge. “Please, it will only take a moment”. Without looking at me, she stands.
“I will only be a minute,” she tells a worried Kiar. I roll my eyes and smile at Kiar to let him know it’s nothing serious. His face relaxes. Does he like Alana? That would be something to look in to. I walk back to our tent and Alana follows. But she doesn’t look happy, and that makes me grin. She’s one of those people who would fight you every step of the way. I’d hate to be her enemy but she would make a loyal friend. As we enter our tent, Alana crosses her arms defensively.
“What?” she asks with a tone.
“I spoke to Morrick—”
She cuts me off. “You ran to Daddy because I upset you.” Her words are laced with sarcasm.
“No, I requested you were made a guardian.”
This knocks Alana off completely “What did he say?” Her eyes are wide with astonishment.
“He will consider it.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
“But you are mine to do as I command for the moment.”
Her face turns into a snarl. “You are enjoying teasing me, princess.”
“Alana, I want you to be my personal guard. No more picking up after me. You’re better than that.”
“Oh… I don’t know what to say.”
I have to laugh. “That’s a first.”
She smiles back at me shyly. “Thank you so much.”
I return her smile. “You’re welcome, but it comes with terms.”
She sits on her cot, beaming. “Name them.”
I smile at her beaming face. “I always want you to be honest with me, no matter what. You will always be with me unless I say so.”
She gives me a curious look. “That’s it?”
I shake my head. “No, one more thing. Don’t call me princess ever again.”
Her face breaks into a smile. “Deal”. She stretches out her hand and I shake it.
“Deal. Now I think Kiar needs you.”
She blushes slightly and goes to leave. I feel pretty good about myself.
“Sarajane.” I turn around to Alana. “Thank you.” She hugs me quickly and races out of the tent.
Her hug reminds me of Jessica. A pang of homesickness tightens my stomach and I leave my tent. I don’t want to be on my own. Every time I am, my mind only wanders to home.
So I go to the fire. My mother is sitting there, showing Navada how to make soup. I still haven’t spoken to her properly since Morrick hit me, but if I walk away now, it’ll look like I’m hiding and that is something I won’t be doing anymore. My mother looks up at me with a pleading look in her eyes and Navada just looks terrified. Why is she afraid of me? “I am showing Navada how to make soup,” my mother says while cutting up onions.
“I can see.” I know she’s trying to make small talk, but now that I think about all her lies, I’m just not in the mood for pretending. “When are we going home?”
She pauses what she is doing and looks over at me.
“Soon,.” she says with a frown.
“Is that another lie mum or are you being honest?” She tilts her head. “Sarajane that’s not fair.”
I want to scream but Navada looks down at the log she’s sitting on, but I can’t hold my tongue. “You want to start talking about fair. What about dad? What about Jessica? You know, your family?”
“You will stop this.” My mother’s booming voice has me sitting back from her, her face softens.
“I miss them as much as you.”
I can’t look at her so I face away. Could she possible miss them as much as me? Liber, Neve, Mirium and Morrick join us. They don’t seem to notice the tension around the fire but Mirium watches me.
“We are leaving in
an hour. A good friend of mine is going to shelter us for a few days in Aquaterra.”
My mother looks surprised. “Musa is allowing us to stay in Aquaterra? Has that ever been allowed before?”
“He understands the situation we are in and I am the king. But no, we are the first guests they will ever have,” Morrick says.
“Why?” This sounded weird, a place nobody was allowed into. It sounded like a cult.
“Because they are a very old tribe that like to be left alone.”
Images of warriors living in small huts with different colored paints on their faces come to mind, but soon I will find out.
Our group of eleven sets off through the desert towards Aquaterra.
From the distance I can get a clear picture of Aquaterra. It is surrounded from the west and south by water the smell of seawater. It is refreshing after the heat of the desert. The desert surrounds the rest of the landscape.
Tall wooden walls rise into the air for miles around the settlement. A large portion of the wall starts to descend slowly like a drawbridge. They must have seen us coming.
As we get closer, I notice small insets cut into the wall that have a slot cut out of them with enough space to fire an arrow or to see people approaching.
When the drawbridge hits the sand, it sends a cloud racing towards us. I pull my top up around my mouth and half close my lids to shield them from the sand. As we cross the drawbridge, I look behind me as it rises. It is raised by six enormous men on either side, pulling a heavy steel chain that is encircled through hooks attached to the wall. Sweat laces their bodies from the tremendous weight of the bridge.
We move slower once we’re safely in Aquaterra, but the settlement looks like little dots in the distance. As we get closer, the settlement starts to take shape and the array of bright colors is heaven to my eyes. Lime greens, cerise pinks, turquoise blues, yellows, oranges, reds.
All the women and children are dressed in striking colors, and their laughter and chatter matches what they wear. The women all seem to be very petite with long brown hair and chocolate eyes, but the tribesmen are huge. They’re enormously built; it is clear to see as they only seem to wear white, black or brown trousers and no tops. They all carry similar features to the women, the long dark hair and brown eyes. It’s intimidating at first glance, but their smiling faces put me right back at ease.
