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

by Kyrja

  “I wanted to take it,” he whispered.

  “Why didn’t you?” she asked, her voice free of accusation.

  Making a small, indecipherable sound, he shook his head, still looking at the floor. When he looked up again, Batal saw his eyes were clear and felt relief. She smiled by reflex then felt her smile widen when he had smiled back at her. She froze in place, though, when she saw him stiffen, his eyes darting back and forth, as if looking for something, or someone. She knew when he’d found what he was looking for when the muscles of his face relaxed and he looked meaningfully into her eyes.

  “I didn’t take the Tear because I would have died, once and for all. I would never have come back.” He paused, and Batal sensed he was speaking for someone else. Perhaps someone hidden in the shadows? Only now, at this moment in time, would it be possible for someone to be in the temple without her knowledge. And only because she and her sisters were all standing in front of Savaar, instead of having left one of them to guard his back. That would never happen again, she vowed. If not for having had three sisters constantly watching him, she wouldn’t be standing here now, with Lord Savaar. Instead, he might already be dead. Permanently, eternally dead.

  As soon as Mura had seen Amphedia beginning to form in front of the altar, she had run to their own temple, the Temple of the Silver Swordfish, to alert her and the others something was amiss. They had all run together to his aid. Others had argued that a god didn’t need guards, but she had insisted, and so they had saved Savaar from being granted his most-fervent wish.

  “This is the first thing I have done for my own reasons in many, many years,” he explained, his voice just a touch too loud, making sure whoever was in the shadows would hear him. “I … could not waste it.” He paused then, taking a breath and Batal wondered if he would speak to whoever was watching.

  Yes! There it was, the shadow behind the corner of the candle stand on the west side of the building. She looked out at the group of her sisters standing in front of her, catching their eyes with her own purposefully-drawn together brows, then moving her eyes slowly towards the west in an exaggerated manner. Those who were watching immediately understood. Three of them made small movements, their intention to investigate signaled clearly, but Savaar moved his hand with a motion to stay where they were.

  “Thank you for coming,” Savaar told them, standing. Batal rose with him, giving the hand signal to disperse. Turning to him, Batal opened her mouth to let him know she would remain with him, and to apologize for her error in allowing someone so close to him. He looked at her, though, and smiled, raising a single finger between them.

  “I am in no danger. I’ve been expecting him.”

  She looked at him, her eyes hardened, and jaw set to argue. He would not fall or fail because of her. She knew everything in her told him so. More, he trusted her. He must be allowed to succeed in his mad plan. Fine. Let him think she would obey. She nodded her head, grudgingly, then turned to go.

  He grabbed her arm, though, surprising her. She would never know what he would have said, though, as there was a man was standing behind him. A man she recognized, but couldn’t put an immediate name to. Even as her eyes sprang open in shock and warning, he was bringing a blade of some sort – a large one – up from an underhanded position, stabbing Savaar in the back.

  She recognized the loud gasp from the high priest, Abalah, who must have been standing at the front door, too far away to make any difference, at the same time she heard another man’s distraught voice – the shadow near the candles! – shout out a “No!” of disbelief.

  It was impossible to make her body respond fast enough to stop the blade from finding its mark, or to do anything more than to catch Savaar’s body as it fell towards her. She heard running footsteps, then another set chasing after the first; she could do nothing but help her god-made-flesh as he slowly crumbled to the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Five – The Gathering Storm

  Suppressing yet another shiver of apprehension, Jarles followed Kaya and Aidena through the streets to the Temple of the Blue Dolphin Order. He knew it was ridiculous, but it felt as though everyone was looking at him, watching him. All of his muscles were tight in anticipation of an attack his body felt as though he should be prepared for. None of the others seemed affected by the strange feeling running through his bones, though, so he kept his fears to himself.

  He had almost suggested that Maw’ki stay behind in case Grandpa Kerr showed up, but decided she wasn’t likely to agree. It wasn’t like him to go off on his own like this; not when something “important” might be happening without him. Jarles would have thought that if he was the important one, as Amphedia’s heir, that his grandfather wouldn’t have left his side for even a moment; he always liked being in the middle of everything. And yet, he had disappeared without telling anyone where he was going. His grandfather was acting completely out of character, and he didn’t like it one bit.

  It was obvious Maw’ki wasn’t happy either, judging by the number of flowers and plants springing up in her path. She might not be telling anyone she was upset, but the fact that each flower only lasted a few moments before disappearing in a small puff of smoke was a vivid indicator that she was more angry than he’d ever seen her. Fortunately, he mused, the rain and wind was dissipating the smoke as quickly as it appeared, so they didn’t look like they were leaving a smoldering trail in their wake. Unfortunately, the rain was starting to come down harder, and it was cool against his skin.

  Jarles shivered again, only this time from the chill of the incoming storm. He was used to a very hot, very dry desert, for many long days, weeks, and months at a stretch. Even the weather, here in Amphedia’s city by the sea, was foreign to him. He had probably only seen water fall from the sky two or three times in his life. And never with this kind of intensity. He would have liked to have just stopped to enjoy the feel of it washing over his body. In fact, he would have liked the chance to stand naked in the pouring rain, feeling the sensation over the entire length of his body. Especially if it wasn’t quite so cold. Of course, he had probably been bathed in more kinds of water, and had even been in more water than everyone in his grandfather’s caravan combined. Rain, though, still seemed a rather novel concept; one he wouldn’t mind feeling more often. The rising wind, though, he could do without.

  Before they’d started walking, Aidena had pointed out the swirling clouds overhead, telling him the storm wasn’t a natural one, that Siri Ventus had begun her assault on the city. When Maw’ki said she thought everyone should be safe in their buildings, Kaya disagreed, reminding her of the ferocity of the last storm they’d encountered spawned by the Goddess of Air. Since Aidena had stopped that storm, they had all turned to her in the hope she would be able to do the same this time. But her eyes had been clouded with fear. She’d had no idea how she’d stopped the storm last time, nor did she even have any memory of having run into the storm, as so many had repeatedly reminded her she had done.

  “Have you ever tried to just … be air?” Jarles had asked her, reluctantly. Her face had immediately collapsed into a frown of anger, with her brows drawn together as if he’d lost his mind. It had been impossible to explain to her that he could see her doing it in his own mind, because he had no words to show her what he meant.

  “Even Siri Ventus doesn’t become air,” Kaya had pointed out. “She creates storms and sends them out into the world.”

  Aidena’s face had relaxed with Kaya’s words, obviously relieved she wasn’t going to have to figure out how to turn her very real body of bone, flesh, and internal organs into something so insubstantial as air.

  He’d kept his peace then, but had seen Maw’ki looking sideways at him more than once, a look of something between curiosity and calculation on her face. As if he had given her some kind of puzzle to solve. He couldn’t help but to wonder what she was thinking, and if she, too, was staying silent so as not to upset Aidena.

  When Kaya, who had been walking in front of h
im, stepped into a small hole in the street hidden by a puddle of rain, momentarily turning his ankle, Jarles tripped over him. He took several half steps, flailing his arms, trying to regain his balance, but ended up falling onto the wet, muddy stones of the street. As he fell, it seemed as though the whole world had slowed down to an unimaginable crawl. Everything seemed frozen, as if it was holding still. As if he was the only thing moving at all. It took a very long time to fall all the way to the small, irregular-shaped stones beneath him. He could even see pock marks and scratches in some of the stones. Nor were they all uniform in color – something he’d never noticed before. Too, he could actually see several of the raindrops as they fell; impossibly clear, fattened drops of liquid. He could have counted them as they hit the stones, splashing outward and against each other, adding their volume to the water already running over the stones and permeating the ground beneath them.

  He had automatically put his arms out to break his fall, of course, but as his left hand hit the stones, he felt his stomach lurch as an electric surge of shock raced through his very soul. His hand did not strike the stones; it went right through the beige, brown, and red stones all mortared together, turning to liquid. Then his right hand did the same and he had a brief moment of panic as the fear of being swallowed by the ground raced through his mind. As his knees hit the stones, though, time came racing back in the rush of a stroke of thunderous silence. He screamed, yanking his hands back through the stones as if he’d been bitten, pulling them into his chest. He knelt there, in the street, panting, feeling his solid hands against his chest, with his eyes closed, afraid to look.

  He could hear shouting all around him, but couldn’t focus on anything at all other than his hands. Opening his eyes, he slowly lowered his arms in front of him, to find his hands were, indeed, solidly made of flesh and bone, and safely attached to his wrists, right where they belonged. He could feel the drops of rain as they fell into his palms and onto his fingers, but he couldn’t see each, individual drop, as he’d been able to just moments before. He jerked though, startled, when he saw someone touch his hands, then felt the warmth of the hands touching his, and was able to focus again. Taking a deep breath while blinking rapidly, Maw’ki’s face swam into view. She was saying something, her face a mask of gentle concern, with something more underlying that concern – fear, he thought. She was afraid. Afraid for him, or of him? he heard a small voice ask from a dark corner of his mind.

  “Yes,” he replied to the questions he heard echoing around him, “I’m all right now.” Did he dare ask if anyone else had seen what had happened to his hands? Before he could consider whether he should reach out and touch the stones again, he felt hands reaching for his arms, helping him to stand up. The moment had passed. He shook himself mentally, knowing they didn’t have time for this. He would have to figure out what had happened later, after they’d found Savaar.

  Thunder clapped loudly nearby, causing him to duck, if briefly. This time, when he felt the shiver of anxiety rush through him, he decided he was tired of jumping and twitching. Replacing fear with anger, he stood up straighter, keeping pace with the others, eager now, to meet with Savaar to get some answers.

  “Hey!” he heard Aidena shout. “That’s Easif and Ishra!” Then she was waving at them, drawing their attention.

  * * * * * * * *

  Easif saw Aidena down the street, waving her arms at them. Drawing a breath, she looked at Ishra, noticing he was doing the same. She shook her head, wondering how they were going to pull this off. Make her mad, the owl-man had said. Hit her! Easif hoped it wouldn’t come to that, if she was honest. There were plenty of other ways to make people mad than to engage them in a fist fight. And if they did manage to get her to … what? Call her powers into being? Start them flowing? How was she supposed to know the right words to use? What happened then? How smart would it be to upset someone with other-worldly powers? What if they got her so mad she used those powers against them? Or what if she couldn’t control them at all, and ended up hurting other people too? Easif shook her head again, not liking any of this one little bit.

  And where was Kerr anyway? He is the one who should be here, to take charge. Isn’t that what he’d told them, when he’d chosen them, that he would be in charge? That they were to take orders from no one other than him. But he wasn’t here.

  And all this rain was distressing. How did anyone live like this? All wet, cold, and miserable. She couldn’t wait to get back to the desert. Raising her hand in acknowledgement of Aidena’s wave, she looked once more at Ishra, then broke into a trot. She wasn’t looking forward to this. At all. And especially not in the rain.

  “Where is Ramil?” Jarles asked, as soon as they were near enough to hear him.

  “He found someone to take him to Savaar,” Ishra answered before Easif had a chance to form a reply.

  “Then why aren’t you with him?” Maw’ki asked, frowning.

  “Your father told us to tell you that you are a terrible mother,” Ishra blurted, looking at Aidena.

  “What?” several voices asked all at once. Smacking herself in the forehead, then slowly wiping her hand down her face, Easif rolled her eyes. This was not going to end well. “Be quiet,” she told Ishra. “Just be quiet. I will tell them.”

  “My father?” Aidena asked, looking at Easif. “He’s here?”

  “I don’t remember his name,” she admitted, “but he can transform from a man into an owl and back.”

  “Oculis,” Jarles confirmed, his eyes sliding to Aidena. “So he is here.”

  “I told you that already,” Aidena replied, impatient. “As is Siri Ventus and my … “ she hesitated. “My real mother. Did you see them?” she wanted to know.

  “I saw them on the beach,” Ishra told her. “And a small girl, too. The owl man said the girl is your daughter.”

  “She’s being raised as my sister,” Aidena snapped. “So she can have two parents to raise her, instead of just one.”

  “You mean so you can be free to do whatever you want to, instead of taking care of her yourself, like you should,” Ishra countered.

  “Ishra! I told you to shut up!” Easif scowled, noticing Aidena narrow her eyes in anger.

  “He said to make her mad, and that’s what I’m trying to do,” he protested. “What makes you think your plan is any better than his is? Isn’t he some kind of god or something?”

  Before anyone could say another word, Easif blurted, “He told us to make you mad so your powers would begin to work. He said,” she eyed Ishra, daring him to interrupt again at his peril, “you are the only one who can keep Jarles safe.”

  Jarles nudged closer to Aidena, brushing her shoulder, asking, “Safe from what?”

  “Oculis said the Goddess of Air wants to make sure you never claim your birthright, so she’s going to destroy the city,” Easif explained.

  “I am beginning to think my father,” Aidena used the word as if it was a curse, “is a liar.”

  “What do you mean?” Ishra asked, confused.

  “Even if all the people in the world were destroyed,” Jarles explained patiently, “there would still be a need for a god or goddess of the seas.”

  “And many other things too,” Kaya put in. “The gods are a part of everything and everything is a part of the gods. There is a terrible imbalance here, though,” he told them. “It seems like all of your gods are constantly fighting each other, using people to do it.”

  Aidena found herself chuckling, then looked at each of her companions to see some of them were smiling too. “You make it sound so simple,” she scoffed.

  “Do we have to discuss this in the rain?” Jarles asked, visibly trembling.

  “Come!” Kaya told them, “the temple isn’t far. Let’s go find Savaar. He will be very happy to see you,” he said, looking at Jarles with a smile.

  “Wait!” Jarles said with a start. “Where is Maw’ki?”

  “She was just here,” Aidena protested.

  “There!�
� Jarles pointed to a black line clearly marked on the stones. Even the pelting rain wasn’t washing away the evidence of his grandmother’s passing. “Let’s go!”

  As they started running to follow the path Denit had left behind in her fury, they were all halted in their tracks, if briefly, when a loud roar of many voices rose up, shouting together in anger. That’s when they noticed many others were also running towards the sound. Not waiting for a consensus, they ran as the wind picked up another notch.

  * * * * * * * *

  Denit was so mad, she felt numb. Enough was enough! She had allowed her precious son to sacrifice himself so that Jarles would be born. And yes, oh yes - she could have stopped Jonath all those years ago, there was no doubt in her mind whatsoever. But she had not; convinced she was doing the right thing for all people, everywhere, no matter how much she absolutely did not care about any of them at all. She had thought she would lose her mind when she realized what he was going to do.

  He had come to her, to explain. So earnest. So determined. So beautiful in his passion. How he had loved Drena with all of his being! And she had loved him fiercely in return. The two of them had been such soul mates from the very beginning. Much more than best of friends. They had simply completed each other in a way that made the whole world seem like a better place to be because they were together. Drena had been so full of fire and drive, determined to make everyone accept her on her own terms, and Jonath had been a balm to her furor, bringing peace and acceptance. She, in turn, had ignited passion and determination in Jonath’s otherwise passive nature, encouraging his independence and creativity.

  Jarles was the result of their sincere adoration for each other. He had already been proclaimed to be Amphedia’s heir, whether anyone liked it or not, and a very large portion of her did not like it. And in no way was she going to sit still for one more moment, allowing anyone else – mortal, creature, god, or goddess, to threaten to take away his life. She had stood by, silently, for far too long. She was going to make up for lost time. Now.