by Katie Roman
The rain mixed with her tears. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose, trying to clear away the snot in a futile effort. I should just wait by his body, she thought. That way, when someone finds him, they can just lead me to the gallows. It would be faster than sitting around, cowering like a hunted animal, waiting to be caught. The guard still hadn’t stirred. She turned and ran blindly into the rain toward Halia’s grave.
She knew how to get to it, in rain or shine. Thanks to the kindness of Deana, she had a mental map of the area stored in her head. Aleka sank to her knees in the mud, touching her forehead to the cold, wet gravestone.
It rained harder. The wind picked up, swirling Aleka’s hair around her, while the cold mud soaked through the bottom half of her pants. The skies had opened up and threatened to tear the world apart. Or maybe they were just threatening to tear Aleka apart. She hoped it did. There was no point in getting up. She had ruined herself, embarrassed herself, and then failed to live up to the vision her mother had for her. There was nothing left to do but wait for the goddess of death to find her. Aleka lay on her side, curling around Halia’s gravestone.
Lightning flashed and thunder crackled overhead. The rain hit Aleka like little needles. She shivered, hugging the cold stone. Thunder sounded again, so powerful it managed to shake the earth. Aleka rolled onto her back to watch the sky.
Just then, a lightning bolt streaked through the sky and struck Halia’s gravestone. The stone cracked with earsplitting force, bits of tombstone flying off and hitting Aleka. The ground grew hot and Aleka scrambled to get away.
When she looked back, a woman stood in the wreckage of Halia’s tombstone, wind swirling around her like a cyclone. As she lifted her hands and brought them down, the rain stopped around her. In the small patch of sky above her, Aleka could see the stars. Aleka shrieked and crab walked backwards, only to bump into a sturdy pair of legs. She turned upwards and saw the figure of a man. The rain didn’t touch him, either.
“Are you going to kill me?” she asked softly. Her voice remained calm.
The man bent down and hooked his hands under her armpits, hauling her up. He steadied her, pushing her toward the woman.
“Do you know who I am?” the woman asked, her voice deep and masculine.
It was hard to see, but Aleka could hazard a guess. “Taedh?” Aleka asked. This had to be the goddess of death. Everyone saw the goddess sooner or later.
“And you call me your patron goddess,” the woman sneered.
“Iuhry,” Aleka whispered reverently. She tried to kneel, but the man behind her kept her upright.
“And you should know my friend, seeing as how you vowed vengeance on Admiral Ghilian.”
Aleka looked over her shoulder, trying to see him better, but the rain forced her to continually blink. “Paora?”
The god of vengeance nodded without saying a word.
“Were you expecting Taedh?” Iuhry asked.
“I’m ready for her to take me to her island to live in everlasting peace,” Aleka said. “What else is left for me here?”
The goddess, who remained a mere shape through the rain, crossed her arms over her chest. “You think Taedh should take you, stupid girl?” Iuhry said dismissively. “And here we thought you looked to destroy your enemies.”
Paora shoved Aleka forward, closer to Halia’s ruined tombstone. When she moved into the circle Iuhry had made, no rain touched her.
“My enemy hunts me, and he has the power of the law behind him,” she said miserably. “I thought I could slip away, but now I know he’ll never stop hunting me.” Fresh tears stung her eyes as she spoke.
“Cry like a child if you must, but you accomplish nothing by blubbering here. We have heard your prayers and came to answer. If you only mean to cry, then our time is wasted. Paora and I have no time for simpering little girls.”
Aleka felt the rain start again over her. She looked up and saw the circle of sky had lessened. Only Iuhry stood dry, and the patch of cloudless sky was just above Halia’s grave.
“I thought the gods were kind to their human subjects, not insulting.” Aleka wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“We do not coddle,” Paora said. He moved around Aleka and stood with Iuhry. Wherever he moved, the rain fell around him, like he had a bubble keeping it off.
“Then what do you do?”
Through the rain, Aleka saw the two turn their heads toward each other.
“We assist,” Iuhry said at last, turning back to Aleka. “What is it that you want, Aleka Akoni of the Nareroc Islands, born under my sign, daughter of Halia Akoni and Edward Ghilian of House Greyhome?”
If Aleka was a dog, she’d have her hackles up. She growled, showing her teeth. His very name caused her blood to boil. To have his blood coursing through her veins was an insult to her very being. “I want to punish my father,” she said.
“And?” Paora asked, his voice like boots on gravel. “Is that all this daughter of Nareroc is? A creature of vengeance? When she has it, what then? Does she become a husk? What else?”
Aleka took in a deep breath. “I no longer wish to be laughed at and marginalized. People look at me and think ‘poor, stupid, pampered girl, so out of her element.’ Even within Lord and Lady Ghilian’s, I was nothing more than a witless decoration; a music box they wound up to entertain guests. I want to be respected, feared. I want my vengeance, and then I want to find a place in this world. I want to wreak havoc upon House Greyhome for all the damage they have done.”
Iuhry laughed menacingly, her deep voice resonating through the graveyard. “House Greyhome took a good servant to the gods of Nareroc and disgraced her by burying her. Halia was supposed to enter the next life upon a funeral pyre, her ashes going into the sea as we demand. House Greyhome abused one born under my watchful eye, treating her like a beast rather than one of their blood. You seek chaos and vengeance, or so you have said. I have heard your prayers, Aleka, but what you need most is balance and calm. You cannot allow yourself to be swept up into the storm; rather, you must be the eye that drags others into the tempest.”
The rain above Aleka suddenly stopped and the moon shone through the small patch of sky, even as the storm continued to rage all around them. She could see both the goddess of chaos and balance, and the god of vengeance better now.
Iuhry was known as the two-faced goddess, representing both chaos and balance. In idols, she was often depicted as having a face in the back of her head. Aleka could now see that she had one face with two distinct sides, with what looked like a line drawn down the center. The right side was painted white, the left black. The left eye was a vibrant green, almost like an emerald with a light shining through it. Her right eye swirled like a storm; grays, blues, greens, forever shifting around. Painted in red upon the left side was a scale, signifying balance. The right side was blank.
Paora was tall, portly, and the bronzed color of any Nareroc native. His head was shaved and his eyes were so dark, Aleka couldn’t make out the color even under the moonlight. At his sides, he carried a sword and a book. According to legend, he carried the book around to write his own laws and the names of those who had wronged his followers within.
“Come forward, Aleka.” Iuhry crooked a finger and Aleka took a few steps forward. “You will have our blessing,” Iuhry said. “For a price.”
“A price?” Aleka raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing is free. Even a gift from the gods,” Paora said softly.
“You must let us take your music.”
“My music? I don’t understand. My violin was destroyed. There is nothing left to take.”
“Nothing you can see, but it still flows within you. A gift given at your birth, a talent honed with practice. Let us take it and we will give you the tools you need to go forth and prosper,” Iuhry said.
“And if I refuse?”
Iuhry shrugged. “Nothing changes. You wake in this graveyard, flea bitten, hungry, with no one to turn to.”
“Why do you want my music?”
“Payment is required,” Paora said simply. “And it is all you have left that is of worth to us.”
Aleka loved music. She loved playing violin, but it was a craft encouraged by Lady Ghilian. It was something the Admiral held over her… Be good, and you can play more. It had drawn attention to her when she could have been happy in obscurity at the Emerald Rose. Love it as she did, it wasn’t practical and would only ever draw attention to her. And yet, Halia had loved to hear her play. It was a final piece of her mother, and if she gave it away, what would she have left of Halia?
“She loved my playing,” Aleka said. “Lady Ghilian wound me up like a music box, but I played long before coming to Cesernan. It made Halia happy to hear it.” If she let Iuhry and Paora take it, what would be left?
“We have named our price,” Iuhry said. “You may choose not to pay. The choice is yours alone.” Her tone was soft, putting Aleka at ease, rather than rushing or agitating her.
Aleka lowered her head. What would Halia say? That Aleka’s violin brought her joy, and that the gods needed to be respected. Two things that currently conflicted with each other. Halia would also say to respect her betters, and it was her “better” who killed her for no reason. Her murderer wasn’t subject to any justice. He was lauded a hero, instead. Meanwhile, Aleka was left only with a talent for playing violin that would always give her away as her “betters” hunted her like an animal. How was that fair?
“You’ll only take my talent for the violin?”
“We will merely take your skill. Should you try to play again, you will find your fingers clumsy with the bow. You’ll never again tune properly, and no amount of practice will change that,” Paora said. “You will still have your voice, should you wish to sing, but your ear for music will not be the same.”
“Take it,” Aleka said after a few more moments of deliberation. “I was never more than my talent to House Greyhome. I was never a daughter or granddaughter. I was barely even Aleka. I received an education and lessons on the violin, but at what cost? My mother and I were forever in their debt. Take my skill. I want nothing that ties me to that debt.”
“Realize this,” Iuhry said. She moved closer to Aleka, cupping her face in her hands. Her ice-cold touch was so frigid, it burned. Her one eye danced and swirled in the moonlight while the other held Aleka’s gaze. “We will give you the tools that will help you, but we move the stars for no one. Your success or failure is your own. Knowing this, do you still wish to move forward?”
“I do.”
Iuhry touched Aleka’s forehead with her frozen finger and the storm outside picked up. Branches were blown from trees as the wind gusted violently and the sound of rain hitting stone intensified. Lightning flashed through the sky, hitting a nearby tree, causing it to explode. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking Aleka to her very core. When Iuhry withdrew her touch, the storm stopped.
“You will be the eye of the storm; the calm within the chaos.”
Paora touched Aleka’s chest, just over her heart. Though she was soaked through, she could feel an intense heat from him. “Punish those who have taken Halia, who have hunted you like a wild animal.” He lowered his hand.
They both took one of her hands. Suddenly it felt like shards of glass moved through Aleka’s veins. She opened her mouth to scream, but only a strained whimper came out. Fighting against Iuhry’s hold was useless. The goddess held her firmly, even as Aleka writhed under her frozen fingers. The shards moved up from her extremities, coursing through her until they struck her heart with the force of an arrow. The more she struggled to get free, the tighter she was held.
When Iuhry finally released her, Aleka slumped to her knees, her whole body shaking. She felt hollow, but also strangely light.
“Aleka Akoni is dead,” Iuhry said. “Only Kunegunda Lansa remains. Do your namesake proud.”
“What will you do?” Paora held out a hand, pulling Aleka back to her feet.
“Punish the Admiral and ensure Halia’s murderer doesn’t continue to go unpunished.”
Paora opened the book he carried. Inside, he scrawled the Admiral’s full name and closed it. He nodded and said nothing more on the subject.
“And what about when you make yourself into even more of a fugitive?” Iuhry asked. “You’ll upset the royal navy by going after Edward Ghilian, King of the Emerald Seas. It’ll be the gallows for you if you’re discovered.”
“I’ll have to flee, but I don’t wish to just cower and hide somewhere. Nobles punch down. I want to punch back. I want to continue my plan of joining the crew of the Fearless Dawn. I want to strike fear into people who profit off the sweat of people like my mother.”
“The storm I’ve called up,” Iuhry said, “has damaged the Fearless Dawn. Captain Blackstone will bring the ship to Glenbard for minor repairs since the city is the nearest port. They will dock tomorrow afternoon with false papers, declaring the ship to be a Rivaellian merchant vessel. Should you truly wish to join the crew, you will have three days to prove yourself worthy to Captain Blackstone. Sleep here tonight. No harm will come to you.”
“And then what, should I succeed?” Aleka asked.
“Your life is your own,” Paora said. “You have asked to rain vengeance down on your enemy and sow the seeds of chaos through his work. If you succeed, you will do as you choose. You owe no further debt to us. The price has been paid. It is on you now.”
Iuhry and Paora each put a hand on Aleka’s shoulder. Together they commanded her to sleep, and she remembered no more.
Part III
Fearless as the Dawn
Chapter Twenty
Aleka woke on Halia’s grave. The sky was a soft pink as dawn crested the horizon. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and noticed a woolen bag lying next to her. Opening it, she found a sheathed short sword, black trousers, a red shirt, and leather boots. Tucked into the pant leg was a purse that clinked with coin. She counted it out, finding it was the same amount as the coin that had been stolen. That was a relief, since she’d had a decent amount saved up, thanks to her playing. At the very bottom of the bag were two idols. One was the old soapstone Iuhry idol that Aleka had thought was gone forever when her coin purse was stolen, and the other was a soapstone idol to Paora. Clearly, the goddess and god were not subtle in how they wished to be honored. Aleka put them both in the coin purse. She changed into the provided clothes and secured the sword and purse to her belt. The clothes fit well enough.
Halia’s grave was still ruined from the impact of the lightning strike and branches from nearby trees were strewn about the area. Signs of damage from the storm were everywhere. She picked up a small piece of stone that had broken off her mother’s grave and slipped it into her pouch with the idols. As Aleka carefully picked her way back toward the entrance, she remembered the guard and her heart froze.
Was he dead? When she got to the entrance there was no guard and no blood, only a vague imprint in the grass to show where he once laid. Aleka hoped he’d only been stunned, but she didn’t dare try to find out by asking around to see if a guard had been killed in the city graveyard.
Heading out of the cemetery Aleka headed for the one person she thought she could trust to help her.
~*~*~
Jack Anders lived in a rundown boarding house in the heart of the Lane. His landlord let her in without even asking her business.
At first Aleka politely rapped on the door, but when no answer was forthcoming, she banged as hard as she could. When he still didn’t answer, she kicked the door open. The wood around the lock was rotted, making the effort an easier one than anticipated. A bewildered Jack flew out of bed, clutching his sword in a battle-ready stance.
“Aleka?” he asked through his curtain of dirty hair, only lowering his sword slightly.
“I need you to teach me how to use a sword. I brought you this,” she announced, holding up a bottle of whiskey. “Give me two days of lessons, stay sober, and you can have another bottle j
ust like it.”
Aleka sniffed the air and found it rank. It stank of sweat, mold, and a various mix of alcohols that had seeped into the floor. How he avoided lice, fleas, and disease was a miracle unto itself.
“Pox and rot, man.” Aleka crossed the small room in two easy strides.
Behind the curtain of brown hair, Jack’s eyes were bloodshot and he had a sickly pallor. His hazel eyes tried to focus on Aleka with little success.
“You’re still drunk,” she said, disgusted.
“Sort of,” he agreed with a shrug. “I came in just before dawn, I think. I spent the night on the store room floor in the Emerald because of the storm.” His words slurred ever so slightly.
“So you had your fill of the casks there,” she said ruefully. “Well, come along. We’ve work to do.”
“I don’t recall agreeing to help.” His eyes wandered to the bottle.
“You said if I brought you the best whiskey money could buy, you would help.” Aleka had purchased a bottle from a tavern in Serenity Place. The tavern keep told her it was aged in charred barrels and filled with spices to give it a smoky flavor. Aleka didn’t care how it was made, so long as it was good enough to entice Jack Anders. She used almost all her coin on one bottle, even after talking the tavern keep down a little with a story about a dying grandfather’s last wishes and having traveled all the way from Nareroc for a bottle. There was no way she could afford a second. She hoped to be far away by the time Jack realized he was never getting another bottle.
“It’s called ‘King’s Head Reserves,’” Aleka said. “Distilled in-”
“In Escion, I know. It’s expensive whiskey. How did you come by it?”
“Let’s just say I found a well-to-do benefactress, and now I need a teacher for the sword. Two days of your time for two bottles of this King’s Head stuff.” She gave the bottle a gentle shake.
“You can’t learn much in two days.”
“But I can learn something. Now come on, man. First, we’re taking you to the public bath houses. Then breakfast. Then we work until you go into the Emerald.”