Sea God of the Sands: Book One of the Firebird’s Daughter Series (Firebird's Daughter 1)

by Kyrja

  Eruitt, though, never had the chance to change his name, nor to be treated as though he was someone special – whether he would have like it or not. But there was something within him which had drawn him out of the desert, through the mountains, and to the city by the harbor even though young men and women who sensed water beneath the sands were no longer being sent to the Temple of Life. She had watched them come, one after another, lost and listless. They had no idea what to do once they arrived, nor even why they had come. These young people were the reason she’d left her Compania behind. And her precious daughter and grandson. It was a decision she’d regretted bitterly for many years now. They’d killed her, P’onyem knew – the priests of the Blue Dolphin order. They’d sent a group of the water-fattened zealot priests into the desert to find and kill her, leaving nothing behind, which had been the cruelest thing of all. Everyone had held out hope she might be found or returned. P’onyem closed her eyes then, willing away the useless emotions she’d already felt hundreds and hundreds of times. It never got any better; time didn’t take away the pressure in her chest, the emptiness in her soul, nor the utter futility of not having been able to make a difference. Not then and not now. Drena was dead. They’d found her head – the hunters and warriors who’d been sent out to track down the priests, along with all of her other body parts, spread out for a long, long way across the desert. The murderers had wanted the pieces to be found. They’d wanted a very clear message sent that they held Drena personally responsible for the collapse of their order. Never mind that it had been the perversion of the High Priest himself who had gone against Amphidea’s will by raping Drena to impregnate her so the savior of their people might be of his own choosing – the priests held her responsible for their own failings.

  And now those same priests had her son imprisoned too. She’d been warned her path would be long and hard, but she’d been young then, full of life and eager to do as she was bid. Her bones hadn’t ached then, nor had her vision dimmed. She’d had beauty and supple skin with perfect curves. And while she was still thinner than most of the Puj’hom women her own age, it wasn’t because she was healthier than they were, it was because she was a dried up old stick of a woman, longing for a quiet place in the shade, with a full bottle of sweet water to simply watch her children and grandchildren as they went about their business. Instead, here she was, sitting in a cold, dark hallway of stone in a place that would ever be too wet for her liking, attempting to rescue her son from prison. This was nothing at all like the hardships she’d imagined he’d meant when he’d warned her. She wondered if he had truly known what she would face, and if he ever thought of her from time to time. Probably not, she scoffed, then felt her cheeks lift as she smiled silently into the darkness, knowing Eruitt wouldn’t see. Just the thought of him made her blush as if she was young again.

  “Why won’t he just accept that he’s Amphidea’s heir and make everything all right again?” Eruitt mumbled. “Who wouldn’t want that kind of power?”

  “Spoken as one who has never held the responsibility of power,” P’onyem returned, careful not to snort in derision. He was sincere, she knew, even in his ignorance. He truly believed that if Jarles would just accept his role as the heir to the Goddess of the Seas, then life could go back to normal. She had tried to explain, but he couldn’t hear her. He simply wanted what he wanted, without understanding Amphidea’s true nature. She was mysterious and deep, but also shallow and unrelenting. Never should you draw an easy breath when considering how she would treat you. She was ruthless and uncaring, having earned her title of “Betrayer” many times over.

  “Hush now,” she told him, not unkindly. Nothing short of having his delusions shattered right in front of his eyes was likely to convince him how wrong he was. Nor did her own desires in the matter have any sway. But she’d known that for a very long time now, having had her own delusions shattered many times over. “Let me rest a moment longer before we go on.”

  She had but a whisper of a chance to free Chared, she knew, otherwise she wouldn’t have brought Eruitt along at all. She would have just come to have it all be done and over with. She’d had enough and had done enough. Her daughter was dead, her son was insane, and her grandson would become Amphidea’s heir sooner or later or die in the effort, no matter what she did or did not do. She’d earned her rest and meant to have it whether she was alive or dead. It was just too hard to keep caring so very much when your body would simply not do what you told it to. She would free her son if she was able, although she was no longer certain what good it would do. She’d thought by helping Chared free himself from the chains which bound him to the stone, he would help to rally the city to an acceptance of Jarles, to help make his entry into the city more bearable. Instead, he’d created a riot, through no fault of his own. She would have blamed Amphidea if she could, but she knew with everything in her the Goddess of the Seas wanted Jarles welcomed, so it hadn’t been her who had crippled Chared at the end of his fine speech. Perhaps Giya, then? That just didn’t feel right though. Then again, how could she possibly know the minds and hearts of the gods?

  Then she felt it – the warm breeze against her neck, when the air was cold and still. Oh! She hadn’t felt that sensation in many, many long years! Could it possibly be? Oh, to feel warm again! Truly warm! Perhaps even hot! Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a day in the desert with no sea nearby, drenching everything and everyone with moisture. How she longed to just be dry! She closed her eyes, drinking in the sensation with all her might. If only she could return to the desert where she belonged. If only she had never agreed those long years ago. She’d thought she was strong enough to handle anything that might come her way. Drena had been so very much like her – so sure of herself. So ready to fight. So willing to do whatever needed to be done to make the world right again! Ha! she huffed to herself. If only she had turned away from him and told him to find another. She wasn’t sure if she would have said no then, even knowing that she would be sitting right here, right now. It wasn’t just the delightful, sensuous sex either – it was knowing she was doing what needed to be done in order to bring balance to the world. The entire world! She’d been honored, flattered, and utterly drawn in. She shook her head at what her younger self had thought and felt then. She’d been a fool, and she’d also been right to do what she’d done. No matter the price, although she shied away from thinking of Drena then, and the pieces of her body strewn across the desert. She would have paid that price herself if only she could have! Asking her to carry the burden of her child having been so brutally murdered, though… that was a horrifically steep price.

  “What do you want of me this time?” she hadn’t meant to ask the question aloud, so startled a bit when Eruitt had jumped at the sound of her voice.

  “What?” he asked, confused.

  “Hush!” she whispered back, sharply. Holding up a hand she wasn’t sure if he could see in the darkness to stay his questions, she narrowed her eyes, squinting into the gloom. Yes! By the gods! Was it truly him? She heard a small, skittering sound and what sounded like wings and knew. Oh yes! Yes it was! Her heart beat furiously as she sat there, on the floor of stones they’d created to cover up the dirt and grass with their building and thought she might just die. Oculis!

  She sat there, dumbfounded, as she watched him emerge from the darkness, unable to move, unable to speak, almost unable to breathe. He was barefoot – just as he’d been when she’d first seen him. She’d been so much younger then and he looked the same. She cringed inside, knowing what she must look like now, compared to how he’d first found her. She wanted to run away and hide her wrinkled skin, her shaking hands, and her grey hair. This was not how she wanted him to see her!

  “P’onyem,” he breathed her name as if it was a blessing, smiling at her as if she was his most-beloved. She felt her cheeks heat with an odd mixture of shame and joy. He was so beautiful standing there, his hand outstretched to help her to her feet. His own hair was still long and beau
tifully white, streaked with black strands here and there, his smooth face still filled with youth. And his eyes! They were the same stark yellow of her youth. Even now, she felt she could fall into them and never look back. He wore a beige traveling cloak, but she saw the white pants and shirt beneath – just as he’d been all those years ago. She held out her hand, allowing herself to be lifted, no longer feeling the ache in her bones as she stood. And oh! Wasn’t it wonderful not to have her feet protest by shooting fire through her legs when she put her weight on them!

  “You are beautiful,” he told her, closing his eyes as he leaned forward to kiss her neck. And in that moment, she truly felt beautiful again – as young and carefree as she had when she’d first met him. When she’d given herself to him, heart, body, and soul. He’d told her she would give birth to a daughter because of their coupling, and that the daughter would be the mother of the long looked-for savior. Her daughter would bear a son, he’d told her, and so she had. Jarles – her precious grandson. She flushed then, belatedly remembering Eruitt. But when she turned to look at him, to try to explain who this man might be, she found him slumped over, laying against the stones of the floor.

  “Asleep,” Oculis told her, placing a finger over her lips. “Nothing more. Come, we have work to do. Chared must be released.”

  P’onyem felt herself blinking rapidly, trying to think, to understand. It was all happening so fast! Was he truly here, or was she fast asleep herself, on the wet stones of the hallway? Why was the Goddess of Wind aiding her? And at what price? She stood her ground, even as Oculis tried to pull her along. With her heart aching to just follow his lead, to allow herself the sheer luxury of being in his company one more time, she raised her chin, daring to look into those sharp, yellow, predator’s eyes she knew were more at home in the face of an owl than on the human face she could see now.

  “Why?” she asked, her heart racing, her breath threatening to drown her in this foul, heavy air of the city by the sea.

  “He must be there when Jarles arrives,” Oculis told her. His voice was calm. His eyes were clear and focused on her. His demeanor unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. And still she hesitated. If only she had time to think!

  “You must choose, P’onyem,” he told her in that deep, sing-song voice of his. “Who will you serve now that the time has come?”

  Giya! she wanted to scream. She had always served Giya. No matter that she’d allowed herself to be drown in service to Amphidea so she might be more easily accepted among the priests, priestesses, and peoples of this wretched city, her heart had always belonged to Giya. Even when she’d lain with Oculis those many years ago, knowing he was from and of Siri Ventus, she had done so with no intention of changing allegiance. None. If she went with Oculis now, would her actions in some way hurt Giya? And how could the actions of one small woman hurt someone so powerful and vast as Giya? But she already had, she knew in her heart of hearts, by allowing herself to be used as the vessel for the seed of the Wind Goddess. It was far too late, she knew, to change what she’d already done. Pressing her lips together to keep from screaming, she nodded briefly, then allowed herself to be pulled along so Oculis might help her to save her son.

  Chapter Twelve - Simoon

  “You have to listen to me!” Aidena shouted over the rising wind. But Savaar ignored her yet again. Damn him! She had no idea who he’d been before he’d rescued her from the sea – in the middle of the desert! – but she doubted he’d been quite so hardheaded before he’d found out he was Amphidea’s son. And not just her “son” in the colloquial sense that he served her, but her own flesh and blood returned to life and human form. Well, she reconsidered, mostly human form. Kaya said Savaar had always looked like a normal man, but that he’d come back to life after being killed several times. He’d said even he had killed Savaar himself during the war in which they’d fought as enemies. She wondered what war a Puj’hom had fought in, and why, but Savaar wasn’t talking. He was sulking. He didn’t want to be Amphidea’s true son, that much she knew for certain; he was inconsolable, with completely unpredictable outbursts. He would be quietly brooding for hours and hours on end, only to suddenly shout out in anger at the complete unfairness of having served her for the entirety of his life, only to end up her son! Aidena wasn’t sure why Savaar thought it was such a terrible fate to be Amphidea’s son. It seemed to her he’d be better off just accepting the situation and making the best of it.

  Just like she was! She had fallen into the sea, just like he had. She’d been almost drown, very much like he had, but she was the one who had woken up who knew how far away from where she’d started! He just ended up with some strange skin, webs between his fingers and discovered he was the son of a goddess. It could have been worse; he could have not woken up at all! Maybe all that water had gone to his head and he couldn’t see the advantages laid out in front of him. She thought the fact that the three of them were now riding atop a huge beast from the sea should have been enough to satisfy him that being Amphidea’s son had some good points!

  It was a “ray” of some sort he’d said. Mama Ray or Mumbo Ray. Something. It was hard to get much of anything out of him other than anger at Amphidea. She thought she’d lost her mind when he’d summoned the gigantic beast from beneath the sands to ferry them across the desert. It was insane! Something so huge shouldn’t be roaming through the desert, or maybe not even under the sea where it might eat you whole! Aidena imagined its fluid motion beneath the sea would be beautiful to watch – at a distance – and was impressed the poor creature even understood how it was supposed to move on land. And yet it did, traveling smoothly across the sand, its huge wings propelling it forward in a kind of rippling motion she was at a loss to explain.

  Savaar had scoffed at her hesitation to climb on top of the gigantic creature as it lay there, its body dripping wet beneath the hot breath of Sov. She could see the thing was unaccustomed to being out of water and wanted to demand he return it to where it belonged, but Savaar was beyond listening to anything she had to say. He was determined to find the heir and have an accounting from him without delay. He needed to know who Jarles was and what he was doing. He didn’t just want to know, as she had, he had a deep, physical need to understand his own role in what Amphidea was doing and why. Savaar was furious with Jarles. Then again, he seemed to be filled with rage about everything.

  When they’d stopped the first night, allowing the ray to (thankfully!) return to the sea, Kaya had asked her to help him prepare the evening meal while Savaar went off to rant and rave some more. He’d told her he was very concerned about Savaar and wondered what he might be able to do to help. She couldn’t understand why Kaya had thought she might have any answers, but he’d told her that while she’d been in the sea, she’d come perilously close to dying. During that time, a very strange thing had happened. She had, somehow, begun to broadcast her entire life – image by image, and scene by scene – so that Jarles had been overcome with too much information and had almost died too. At least, Kaya told her, that’s what Savaar had told him while she’d been asleep, recovering from her ordeal in the water. Savaar hadn’t paid very much attention to what was being broadcast, Kaya had confided to her, because his only concern had been getting her safety. But there had been enough in the small amount of time he’d been in contact with her to know she had her own secrets.

  Aidena had been shocked to learn her life’s story had been laid bare for Jarles and Savaar to see. She’d felt betrayed and shocked and terribly, terribly angry.

  “What?!” she’d shouted, looking up sharply from the fire she’d been kindling. Embarrassment had been her immediate response. And then more anger. Why did every single thing, every single situation in her life, always – always – come back to that night? There was more to her than one day or night or event or situation. She’d clenched her jaw in determination to not be embarrassed. It was stupid to be embarrassed, and only made her feel weak and as if she was the one at fault. Aiden
a had purposefully and brutally pushed those thoughts away from her a long time ago. It didn’t matter if the whole world knew she’d been raped and left for dead. She had done not one thing wrong. Other than to give up your daughter to be raised by your parents! a mocking voice taunted her ruthlessly. But that was a voice she’d long since learned how to ignore.

  “What did Savaar say?” Aidena had asked Kaya. That was the important part. It was obvious he’d learned of her rape; there were no other “secrets” she might have. The fact that her parents were raising her daughter wasn’t something she was happy about, but it wasn’t such a terrible nor unusual thing among any Compania that she’d ever heard of. Then again, Savaar was a Puj’hom and Kaya was from a land far, far away, so either of them might think otherwise. She had almost shaken her head in dismay at that thought! If either one of them thought that her parents raising her daughter was a “secret” she was keeping, then they were sorely in need of an education of what real life was all about. And surely, people who fought in wars, people who had maimed, wounded, and killed others, would certainly have encountered much more terrible things than people raising their grandchild as their own. She had leaned in closer to Kaya, holding her eyes and face still in a neutral face as devoid of emotion as she could make it.

  There had still been plenty of light, so she’d been able to watch as his strange, grey eyes had darted first to the left and then to the right. Aidena knew he’d been terribly uncomfortable, even though she’d only met him the night before, when she’d awakened from her near-drowning. From what she’d seen, Kaya was normally fairly cheerful, even though he was very quiet. Of course, she hadn’t had much to judge him on at that point, given that he’d seen his traveling companion undergo dramatic, even frightening, changes. It was entirely possible he’d been much different before Savaar had been swallowed by the sea; it just wasn’t possible for her to know. But what small bit she did know of him, she liked, or at least was comfortable with. He wasn’t much older than she was, if she guessed right, but she still hadn’t learned why they’d been traveling together at that point. She’d since learned he’d followed Savaar after the war because his own homeland had been destroyed.