by Elina Vale
Shri observed the scarred woman, who had become her friend during the voyage. “Do you have any family waiting for you?”
Roxana stared quietly at the city.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy,” Shri said.
Roxana smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Shri. Most of my family was killed in a boating accident many years ago, when I was a young girl. I have a brother, though, alive. He is... an unfortunate soul. We are not very close.”
“Oh... I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Now, let’s not talk about sad things," she said. "I’ll be happy to show you the city if you want.”
Shri was so excited to experience this new culture that she burst into a laugh. “Absolutely!”
“That will have to wait,” Aigon’s voice interrupted. “There’s something we need to do. Shri will accompany me to the palace.”
Roxana glared at Aigon, but she said nothing. Something was different between those two, and Shri had an uneasy feeling about it. Did Aigon know their secret?
“Are we walking to the palace?” Shri wondered once they were standing on the pier.
Aigon had barely spoken with Shri after kidnapping her, but today he looked content. “Yes, it’s only a short way. The streets here are bumpy and winding, and several of them are quite narrow. Carriages are rarely used. Some people ride donkeys, but most like to walk.”
“I don’t mind walking,” Shri said, gazing around in attempt to capture every detail. “Though I feel like I’m still on the ship. The streets are swinging.”
“That will pass soon.”
The city of Lighthaven looked like a paradise. Laughing children ran in the streets. Women and men went about their daily chores, carrying baskets and pushing small carts filled with bread, vegetables, clay pots, and fabrics. The wind was chilly to Shri, but these folks only needed thin vests. She studied the people: women with braided hair, men with long, white manes. Most wore brown and gray clothing, but colorful ribbons swung from their hair, clothes, or boots. Wreaths tied up with autumn flowers decorated young maiden’s hair.
They had explained to her, that winter months in here were extremely harsh and weary. The winds would blow the storms over the islands, and those would bring huge piles of snow. The island was practically sleeping through the hardest months of the season, the community was nearly asleep, focusing on conserving its strength. The current weather wasn’t chilly to them, but Shri was used to steaming desert.
While ascending the avenues toward the castle, Shri caught one young woman’s eye. The girl stared at Shri with her chin proudly high. She flipped a knife in her hand, clearly giving a warning. Shri was an outsider, and they would treat her like one until she earned a place among them. But there was a chance that she had every right to be there, and when the time was right, she would let them know.
Small white houses dotted the green hillsides like flowers. The palace stood at the summit, surrounded by statues, trees, and grassy fields. It was a massive, sturdy-looking building with prominent towers and thick walls. Shri suspected it could fit the entire city’s population. Maybe that was its purpose. Maybe they fled within its walls when there was an attack.
She was slightly out of breath when they reached the main gates of the palace. She turned the other way and gazed at the view behind her. The morning mist had vanished, and the sun glimmered over the ocean. Flocks of birds circled in the turquoise sky over the harbor, and small columns of smoke from the hearths climbed lazily towards the sky. Cart after cart was pushed through the palace’s gates, and happy cheers were exchanged between the ones returning to the island and the ones who had stayed behind. Shri took a deep breath. Her eyes watered for the yearning this city had brought upon her. This was the life her people—Susu, Mother, and Father—were equally entitled to. Not a life of slavery, but freedom and happiness.
Shri followed Aigon into the castle. The courtyard was filled with people carrying tables and benches, baskets of food and flowers. They were preparing the homecoming celebration. The castle doors opened for them and Aigon nodded to the smiling people, but when they saw Shri with him, they let him pass without speaking.
The hallways were bright, and the walls shimmered with light shades of green, the ceiling rising high and arching beautifully overhead. It reminded Shri of the tranquility of the Octopus. Her dirty boots looked nasty against the smooth, waxed plank floor. She sniffled her running nose, wiping it with her sleeve. How dirty her face must have been after the journey at sea.
After a brief period of walking through the charming halls of the palace, they were soon escorted into a small salon. Aigon asked her to sit on a pretty little chair and left the room. The chair’s legs and armrests were crafted to resemble flowery branches, and the cushions were a soft yellow. Her fingers playing on the carvings, she observed the paintings on the wall in front of her. Three portraits of past rulers stared back. The first painting displayed the picture of a gray-haired and bearded man, his chin proudly high, but the painter had made his mouth softer with a smile. His eyes had a twinkle, like he was about to tell a joke, but Shri could sense the power from him, even if the golden diadem on his forehead hadn’t been there.
The second painting was of a younger man, holding the same diadem, but his appearance was much darker. An ugly scar crossed his cheek, and his flaxen hair extended all the way to his shoulders. The third portrait was of a woman with the same high chin, the same noble look as the other two men. She was older, maybe sixty years, wearing the same diadem as a sign of power. Her other hand rested on a fighting staff. She was powerful, intimidating.
Shri stood up as a grand-looking woman came into the room. The woman’s age was uncertain, as she held herself with the grace and confidence of advancing years, but she had few wrinkles on her face. Her eyes were sparkling blue, and her long, snow-white hair was braided beautifully on one side of her head. The other side of her head was shaved. She wore black pants and a white tunic with blue flowers embroidered on the sleeves and the neckline. Blue feathers hung from her ears, swaying as she approached Shri.
“Greetings, Shri Moongale,” she greeted. “Welcome to the Thunder Islands. I am Tarinna Goldring, the clan-leader.”
Shri bowed her head. “Thank you, my lady. I’m honored to be here.”
Tarinna smiled. “We are delighted to have you. I understand you are seeking something.”
Shri sensed the woman’s tightness. Under that smile lurked an awkward suspicion. She didn’t trust Shri. Unfortunately, Shri didn’t even know herself what she was seeking.
“You want to learn more about magic,” Tarinna said.
“Yes... I do. But there’s something else I need to tell you.”
“Go ahead,” Tarinna said.
“A war is brewing on the mainland,” Shri said. “I think it will affect everyone.”
“Oh?” At last, Tarinna seemed intrigued. “Tell me more. Often, news travels here quite late.”
“In Ironflare, in the Tower of Spike, there is a new High Mistress. She uses magic that rips the life force from others.”
Tarinna paled. She shot a sharp look at Shri. “The ripping?”
Shri nodded. “You know of it?”
“I’ve heard of it. In the ancient tales of our people.” She was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Is that the reason you’ve come here?”
“No.”
"Then why are you here?”
“To be honest...” Shri swallowed her courage. “Your people took me against my will.”
Tarinna said nothing.
"Why did you think I had come here to learn magic?” Shri asked, staring boldly at the clan-leader. “You’ve spoken with Mahox, haven’t you?”
"Yes,” Tarinna admitted. “He told me about your... talents. All the elements, he said. He also told me that he offered you a deal.”
"He did,” Shri said. “But the deal is broken.”
Tarinna lifted her eyebrows. “Really?”
“He didn�
��t help me find my magic. I found it by myself when the ship was attacked by senatai.”
“Don’t try to beat us in cunning,” Tarinna said. She studied Shri carefully. the same way Roxana had examined her when she had discovered that Shri could be her true queen. “Who are you? You look like you could be one of us.”
“I’m from Ironflare.”
“Yes, yes, so you say.” Tarinna folded her arms. “You are the first person from Ironflare to see the Thunder Islands. What do you think of your new home?”
“This is not my home,” Shri said. “I need to get back to my real home. I have important things to do.”
Tarinna pointed at the three paintings on the wall. “Lighthaven was founded by three great captains. Caldea Coldwater, the wise and dynamic leader of the eastern clan. The second was Portunex Goldring, and as you may recognize, I share his name. I am his granddaughter, many generations descended.”
"Who is the third leader?”
Tarinna pointed to the painting of the grey-haired man with the twinkling smile. “That is Argos Moon-Storm.”
Shri’s heart jumped.
“It’s customary that the ruler of the Mairas is a direct relation to one of these three,” Tarinna said.
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Tarinna sat down, gesturing for Shri to do the same. Once they were comfortable, she continued. “You know, I’m not the only one who thinks you resemble our people. Mahox also mentioned it.”
“He did? He never said anything to me.”
“Somethings are better left unsaid,” Tarinna replied, crossing her long legs. “Until the right time, that is. Tell me of your family, Shri Moongale. Who was your father? Where was he from?”
Shri began to sweat under the intensity of Tarinna’s keen eyes. The guards were also watching her closely. She began to realize that her secrets weren’t as secure as she thought, and what she was undergoing at that moment was not an introduction but an interrogation. Had Roxana betrayed her? Or was the possibility of a linked heritage so obvious to these people? Mahox had looked into her soul. What had he seen within? Whatever the case, she knew she couldn’t win a verbal fencing match with this woman, and she suspected that resisting would only delay her quest further.
“My father’s name,” she answered, “is Merrilon Moongale.”
“Moongale,” Tarinna mused. “Curiously familiar, wouldn’t you say?”
“Perhaps,” Shri said, “but he is trapped in Ironflare, and it’s my mission to rescue him.”
“I can be kind,” Tarinna said. “If you cooperate with me, I might be willing to let you go on your way. I might even be willing to send some help with you. But I expect you to answer me truthfully. Do you understand?”
Shri lowered her head. “Yes, my lady.”
“Now,” Tarinna said, “can you tell me the name of your grandfather?”
“I can,” Shri sighed. “It was Ravin.”
“And Ravin’s father?”
“Perivalos.”
Tarinna closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there was no warmth. “You know, of course, that Perivalos Moon-Storm was the descendant of that man in the portrait behind me. The ruler of this island.”
“Yes.”
“Your skin, your hair... the similarity of names...” She continued to glare at Shri. “It’s quite a coincidence.”
“Yes.”
“Have you come to claim your birthright? Answer me honestly.”
Shri straightened herself. “No! Lady Goldring, I swear, I only discovered these things after Aigon took me. My sole goal is to learn magic, return home, and liberate my people!”
“And who are your people?”
“Slaves in the Pit of Ironflare. I am the only hope they have. I must help them!” The thought had come to Shri during the last days of sailing that she might be facing her last chance to save them. “My father is held inside the Tower Spike by Shea Ziragh, the High Mistress.”
Tarinna Goldring stood. There was distress on her face. “Your father is a prisoner. That means...”
Shri rose and confronted the ruler eye-to-eye. “If he is indeed the heir to Argos Moon-Storm, you have a duty to free him!”
“If only it were so simple,” Tarinna said, her gaze wandering.
“You can’t keep this a secret,” Shri argued. “If I tell the people of the Thunder Islands, don’t you think they would rush to help the grandson of Perivalos?”
Tarinna meandered to the window and looked outside. “They will not believe you.”
“Why would I lie about something like this?”
“To them, you’re an outsider! You could be lying to procure their assistance. Or perhaps you want steal from us, to interfere in our business. To have power over us.” She faced Shri. “You are an outsider to me as well, until some sort of truth can be established regarding your identity. I need to discuss this with my counsel. They will advise me on what we should do. But do not mention your father to anyone, am I clear?”
Shri looked at her feet. “I won’t mention anything.” Then, unwilling to appear weak before the ruler, she straightened her back and added: “Yet.”
Tarinna squinted her eyes, but Shri held her gaze.
“You are dismissed, Moongale.”
Only once Tarinna turned away did Shri let out her breath.
The festivities started the next day before the sun went down. Shri walked the castle's courtyard with Roxana, who had been declared her escort. She no longer cared if she was more of prisoner than a guest. She liked Roxana’s company. The long tables started filling with people. Shri and Roxana grabbed some food and found a place to sit further away.
"About the talk we had earlier..." Shri said.
Roxana nodded, understanding. "About your... legacy."
"Did I tell you that my father is alive and held captive in the Spike?"
Roxana's eyes widened. "No, you didn't! Are you saying the grandson of Perivalos is alive?"
"Yes."
Roxana stopped, staring into the distance with a dreamy look on her face. "He could come back. He really could...”
"Hold on a minute,” Shri said. “I’m not looking to cause a power-struggle. Tarinna is your queen now.”
“There's something I need to tell you," Roxana said, lowering her voice. "Tarinna Goldring isn’t what you would call... popular."
"What do you mean?"
"The Goldrings are in favor of embracing the brutality of the Mairas’ life. Since they took power, our reputation in Aviden has plummeted. People see us as spiteful murderers!" Roxana spat the last word out with a grimace.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
"No!" she exclaimed, looking around to be sure nobody heard her, and then lowered her voice again to a whisper. "Remember the tale I told you? I believe there's something hidden in our history. I can feel there must be something more, something that explains why the Warriors of the Sea have turned into thieves and muggers. Maybe the Mairas' cruel reputation, the reputation of rogues, is necessary to keep people away. Maybe there’s something on this island that people aren’t supposed to find.”
They both fell silent. Nearby, a group of people laughed as they danced to the music of an accordion accompanied by flute and drum.
"Shri," Roxana said. "You should take some our warriors with you when you go to save your father."
"Would they agree to come?"
"If they know who you are, yes! Think about it: this could be the path back to our honor. What kind of man is he?"
"My father? The most honorable man there is. Strict, but caring and brave."
"Yes.” Roxana nodded, determination gleaming in her eyes. “I want that kind of leader. You’re like that too. You could convince them to follow you."
"I’d love to have their support," Shri admitted. "But will they follow me? Tarinna Goldring forbade me to tell anyone. I’m not even supposed to be talking to you about it. And if I tell my story, will anyone believe me?"
&
nbsp; Roxana stood, circled around the table whispering, “You’re right. You’re an outsider. People will not believe that you’re Perivalos' great-granddaughter. The Mairas are loyal to their ancestors. They need more than a tale about a city with iron walls.”
“What else can I do? Other than my hair, I have no proof.”
“There is a place called Emba,” she answered, sitting down and leaning close to Shri. “All who wish to claim to the throne must go there. If they come back bearing the Mark of Daughters, they can proceed with the claim.”
“But I don’t want the throne.”
Roxana wiped the air dismissively with her hand. “That’s not important. What’s important is that they believe your claim. If you had the mark, people would believe you! They would follow you into this war.”
“Are you sure? What kind of place is Emba? Where is it?”
“I don’t know what happens there,” Roxana said, “but anyone seeking the Daughters must go to the pond of Pearl beyond the forest." She nodded toward the hulking trees behind them. "It is said that when you dive to the depths of the pond, you’ll find the place of the Daughters, and if you are the rightful heir to the throne, they will mark you.”
Dive.
Into the water.
Shri closed her eyes.
Roxana grabbed her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t swim, remember?”
“Yes, that would be a problem...” Roxana smirked, wiggling her fingers. “If you weren’t a senatai.”
Shri hesitated. Could she use her magic to dive and swim? She glanced at the ma’tera bracelet. “There’s a problem with that idea.”
Roxana took a sip from her ale and slumped down. After a moment of thought, a sly look crossed her face. “I know someone who might be able to get it off.”
“Would that someone be willing to defy Mahox?” Shri took a bit of the bread. It was fresh and soft. But when she remembered what kind of bread she had been eating in the Pit, she paused and put it away. Thousands of people were still eating Pit bread. I must remember why I’m doing all of this! Not for a legacy or a throne, but for all the children, all the people who deserve freedom! All of my fears will only hold me back from helping them. This might be my only chance.
