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

by Kyrja

  She had felt the “seed” within her shift and crack when the young warrior, Easif, had spoken of Siri Ventus’ threat of making sure Jarles never claimed his birthright. She could feel the fire within her reignited as she hadn’t felt in many years. It was time to find out just what she was capable of, and if the Goddess of Air could withstand her fury.

  So focused was she on moving towards the center of the swirling clouds – Siri Ventus was on the beach somewhere, that much she knew – Denit didn’t see the path of destruction she was leaving behind her. No longer did flowers raise their heads in her wake; instead there was a large scorch mark following her, and the blackened stones were buckling as the soil and sand beneath them rose up in a long mound. The result was a trail of scorched earth, looking like nothing so much as a ragged wound, as if the very earth beneath her feet was bleeding in protest of her pain.

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Wings and Blood

  With his eyes closed, Chared could feel the pulse of mob surrounding him beating in time with his own heart. His arms were outstretched, drawing every bit of energy and power from the crowd around him as he could manage. Their lifeblood was his own. Their lifewaters were his own. They were his to use, as he’d been promised. He had done as he was bid by the Storm Goddess, killing Savaar, and now he stood on the front steps of the temple awaiting her arrival.

  He could feel the current of confusion and fear they were drowning in, but soon … soon he would free them and they would know the glory of Amphedia. They would understand the will of the Sea Goddess. Just a few moments more and he would tell them he had killed the pretender who had sought to usurp the place his mistress had reserved for one person and only for that one person. And they would thank him for his work. For his dedication. For saving them.

  * * * * * * * *

  “Who is he?” Ramil asked, raising his voice, without turning to look at Eruitt. He had never seen so many people together in one place. At least, not like this. There had been many people in the caravan – more than he had ever hoped to see in all of his life, but they had been spread out, keeping mostly to themselves. Certainly there had been many who spoke with each other from different families, clans, and tribes, but nothing at all like this … he didn’t even have a word to use to describe the number of people he saw … herd? of people all packed together. His own level of alertness was piqued, making him search out an escape route. Even at night, when they had all stopped in one place, the caravan had been a place of peaceful co-existence, with camps and fires spread out wide enough to make everyone feel comfortable, whether they wanted company, or preferred to be alone. He often spent the nights by himself, or with a handful of companions. He didn’t care for being so close to very many people at one time, and this … this was making him feel as though he should find somewhere else to be. Immediately.

  “Eruitt?” he asked, turning now to look at him, seeing they were completely surrounded. But Eruitt wasn’t listening to him. He was staring at the man who was on the steps with his arms spread wide.

  “Hey!” Ramil shouted, taking his shoulders and shaking him. His own heart began racing when he realized something was happening to his companion. When he looked around, he saw that everyone else around him was acting just like Eruitt; they were all staring straight ahead at the man on the steps, their eyes wide, their mouths slightly open, as if they were all in a trance or something. Ramil felt the hair on the back of his neck rise and his lip curl in disgust. He had to get out of here, but he couldn’t just leave Eruitt behind. Could he?

  Careful to allow Eruitt to remain facing the man on the steps, he pulled the other man against him. Afraid Eruitt wouldn’t know enough to move his own feet, he was grateful when he proved to be easy to move after all. While he only shuffled his feet sideways a little at a time, Ramil was grateful at least he didn’t fight him, or wasn’t rooted to the spot through whatever enchantment was happening. He didn’t give a damn what was causing the problem, because he wasn’t going to be the one to solve it, he knew. All he wanted to do was to get out. Nor did he feel one bit sorry for all the shoving and pushing he was doing to get the other people out of his way. The only problem was that he had no idea where he was going, so his plan was to simply get far enough away from the temple in the hope that once they were clear of the place, Eruitt would come back to himself.

  “Good people!” he heard a voice shout. Without looking, he knew it had to be the man on the steps. His voice was one of command. Someone who was used to speaking in front of others. Of taking charge and getting his own way. Ramil figured he must be a priest of some kind. Whatever kind of trance he had on the people surround him, it seemed to be complete, as they all started shouting at the same time, responding to the man with one, thunderous voice. And that voice, Ramil thought, sounded angry. Very angry.

  * * * * * * * *

  “Grandmother?” Nieva spoke softly, even though the surf was pounding and the wind was howling. She knew her grandmother would hear her.

  “Yes?” Siri answered, allowing a small portion of her attention to be divided.

  “Why does Amphedia not come?”

  “She is afraid, Nieva.”

  “Because of what you saw in the crystal goblet?”

  “People know they will all die one day, but gods think they never will,” Siri explained.

  “Is the new god a nice man?”

  For a small moment, Siri’s attention wavered as she considered the fact she’d never thought of any of the gods as a human might. Nice? “We will have to wait and see,” Siri told her.

  * * * * * * * *

  There! Finally. She was almost too late . Oculis shook his wings out, pushing off of the branch with his talons, headed straight for Aidena. She had obviously not yet learned enough to embrace her powers, or she wouldn’t still be with the other humans. On foot. He sighed to himself, knowing the days of having no allies was drawing to a swift close, but wishful of at least one he could depend on right now. Since he could not, he would have to awaken her powers himself.

  * * * * * * * *

  Ishra was the first to see the owl coming right at them, with his wings spread and talons extended.

  “Get down!” he shouted, throwing his arms around Aidena and taking her to the ground with him. He rolled with her, and got to one knee, moving his body to be in a position above her to protect her from further attacks. He was impressed at how quickly the rest of her friends surrounded her. Obviously the owl man decided he and Easif hadn’t completed the job he wanted done, so was taking matters into his own … talons?

  “Let me up!” Aidena yelled at him. “Move!”

  “Stay down!” Ishra protested.

  “If you don’t let me up, I really am going to get mad, and none of us wants that!” she shouted back at him. He looked quickly at Easif who shrugged, then extended his hand to help Aidena to her feet.

  “Stand back!” she told them, wiping her muddied hands on her clothing.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Jarles told her. “We can run.”

  “I’m not running anymore,” she replied, her eyes never leaving Oculis as he flew down low for another attack. “Come on then, Daddy,” she hissed under her breath. She watched as he leveled his wings, flying right for her face. She could see his yellow eyes staring straight into hers. She swung at him, but missed as he rose up over her head, just out of reach.

  “You stupid girl!” Oculis shouted at her. “You need your powers to defeat Siri!”

  “I don’t give a damn about her! She means nothing to me!”

  Surprising her, Oculis suddenly transformed from an owl into a man while he was still in the air, causing him to drop onto the stones hard. She watched as he stumbled, then righted himself, standing in front of her. She could see her companions ready to take him down, but waiting for her to signal them.

  “She brought Nieva and your mother here to trick you into serving her,” Oculis told her, holding out his hands towards her. “Why won’t you let me hel
p you?”

  “You lie,” Aidena said, her lip curling, but feeling her heart beat faster all the same.

  “You told us she was going to destroy the city to keep Jarles from his birthright!” Easif pointed out.

  “You’ll say anything to get me to use my powers!” Aidena accused him. Before she could even think about doing it, she grabbed Oculis by the throat with her right hand. He smiled then, as he embraced her and wings large enough to support his human weight suddenly sprouted from his back. Too quickly for anyone to react, Oculis had jumped into the air, taking Aidena with him.

  “Let me go!” she screamed, struggling against him. “I won’t fight her for you! I won’t be your puppet or hers!”

  In the time it took for her to protest, Oculis had already taken her high above the buildings with a few strokes of his powerful wings.

  “Then die, daughter,” he told her, looking into her eyes as he let go of her.

  * * * * * * * *

  “Good people!” Chared repeated, this time using his hands to pat the air in front of him in a hushing motion. “You all know the lore! You have heard of the history of the defiance of Amphedia’s children against her, and how they sought, time after time, to take what is hers and hers alone!”

  “We have heard!” the crowd roared back at him with one voice.

  “Your children do not take what is yours! Your children make their own way. But not so for Amphedia’s children! No! They were selfish! They were lazy and unkind! They tried to take what is hers!”

  “They shall not have it!” Every throat in the gathered throng repeated the expected refrain.

  “The worst of the offenders has always been Savaar!” And here, Chared deviated from the usual lesson. “Savaar, Amphedia’s most-cherished eldest son, who has always fought against his mother’s rule. This usurper has been here, in our city, these past months in the hope of tricking you into serving him instead of Amphedia!”

  Uncertain how to respond, Chared heard many gasps, denials, cursing of Savaar’s name, and blessings for the Goddess of Storms from his audience.

  “He has been right here! In this very temple! Hidden by the very same order who defied Amphedia a generation ago in her plan to create her heir and our savior!”

  Chared heard more gasps, but for the most part, his audience was silent, paying rapt attention to his every word, eager to learn what he had to say. Desperate for news of how all of these deeds would touch their own lives.

  “But Amphedia has saved you good people! The Storm Goddess sent me, her humble and loyal servant to stop her eldest son from further blasphemy. And I have done so! I have obeyed our goddess by using this blade to destroy the usurper!,” Chared held up the short sword he’d used to stab Savaar, his red blood still dripping from the pommel onto his hand. The crowd went wild, screaming with joy and gratitude.

  “Amphedia! Amphedia! Amphedia!” Chared started the chant himself, feeling the power of her name wash over him. Raising the sword in one hand, he waved, smiling. Pleased with himself and fascinated, he watched the blood drop off of the sword, staining his robe, then his smile froze as another drop turned to water as it fell, its crimson color vanishing as if by magic. Turning his gaze to the upraised sword, he watched in horror as the blood turned to water, dripping down his sleeve.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Family Ties

  Abalah moaned as he picked himself up from the floor, leaning back against the door jam. He was getting too old for this kind of nonsense. He shouldn’t even be here, but it had been his duty, and his alone, to tend to Lord Savaar as high priest of the temple. Who else could he have trusted to make sure he was taken care of? Even if he would have sent ten others to tend to Lord Savaar’s needs, he would never have gotten anything else done, fretting that some detail was being overlooked. No, it just wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. Still, at this moment, he would have preferred to have been sitting in his office, or in meditation, or teaching a class, rather than having been manhandled by the scum who stabbed their Lord, and then had pushed him aside as if he was a mere child.

  And he had recognized his attacker. Chared. That a former priest of the Blue Dolphin Order had been the one to do this … this heinous crime was unthinkable! Chared, who had been praised for his devotion to Amphedia for more than twenty years as he lay chained to the stone tablet. It was impossible for Abalah to understand what could possibly have motivated Chared to attack Amphedia’s heir.

  Turning his head, he slowly shifted his eyes to the altar, unwilling to see what he knew he would find there. Wait! Who was that kneeling beside Lord Savaar and Priestess Batal? Abalah moaned to himself; disgusted at all the chaotic events transpiring around him when he had worked so hard to create a place of peace and harmony, where people could worship and serve Amphedia together. Especially this place, this temple, where so much of the order’s history was written in blood. He feared that, after this, the temple would be torn down, stone by stone, as the people rose up against their order once and for all.

  Pushing himself off from the floor, he moaned again as he stood, feeling lightheaded. Obviously he wasn’t going to live forever as Amphedia’s true child after all, he sighed. He should have known better, he chuckled to himself, determined to make it to the altar under his own power.

  * * * * * * * *

  Denit placed her hands on the wall, looking down the long hill to determine if she could see anyone on the beach from here. “The beach” covered a lot of ground, and she hadn’t bothered to ask for better directions before setting off to find Siri Ventus. The swirling clouds were a pretty good indicator, but they were growing larger and larger, and the rain was coming down in earnest now.

  Yes! Two women and a child. It could be no other. In fact, she could feel the energy the goddess was putting out from here. The storm would be a monster. She wondered what, exactly, the Goddess of Air was actually doing building such a huge storm if she wasn’t going to level the city. Denit decided it really didn’t matter. Whatever Siri Ventus was doing was none of her concern, as long as she left Jarles out of her plans.

  Oculis was wrong, Denit knew. Aidena wasn’t the only one who could save him from the Goddess of Air, she was going to do that herself. She felt the fire building in her and felt her cheek lift in a smirk. Siri Ventus may be the Goddess of Air, but all wind ever did was to fan the flames of fire higher and hotter. She had never really cared, one way or another what or who she was; she’d been perfectly content to just live her life as it was handed to her. Until today.

  Today, she was going to take Giya’s word as truth that Sov was her father and set fire to Siri Ventus unless she agreed to leave Jarles alone. Raising both hands in front of her, she opened them, sharply flicking her fingers to reveal her bare palms. Fire immediately rose from her hands and Denit smiled.

  * * * * * * * *

  “Are you Kerr?” Batal asked the man who was slowly approaching the altar where she was holding Savaar’s head in her lap. He had fallen right into her arms, but was too heavy for her to hold, so she had ended up carefully lowering him to the floor by holding his shoulders. His knees had given way, throwing his dead weight almost on top of her, but she had managed to get him all the way to floor without dropping him. Despite her best efforts, though, she’d had no choice but to put him facedown before rolling him on to his side, then lifting his head into her lap. There was a great deal of blood everywhere, including all over her, but she could still feel him breathing, if not exactly regularly. She wasn’t sure if he would survive, but didn’t know how to help him. Healing was, by far, not her specialty.

  By the time she’d gotten his body situated, the man who had been hiding near the candles was slowly approaching from the shadows. Since Savaar had been expecting Kerr, she could only assume that’s who must be approaching her now. Abalah was still laying on the floor the last time she’d looked, near the entrance where he was supposed to be ready to bar the door so Kerr wouldn’t be able to escape with the Tear.

/>   “Yes,” he replied, stopping a respectful distance away. “Is he …”

  “Not yet,” she replied. “But he’s not breathing very well. “Can you go get some help?”

  Batal’s head jerked up at the same time Kerr’s turned towards the front of the temple. They had just both heard a loud voice shout “Good people!” A moment later they heard what must be a crowd of people right outside the doors respond in anger. Batal closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, then shook her head. “That’s not good,” she said, then her body shook with an involuntary shiver.

  “I think I might be able to help,” Kerr told her, moving closer.

  “Are you a healer?”

  “Yes and no,” he told her, then shook his head. Batal frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but not willing to find out. Savaar had only wanted the Tear from Kerr, nothing more, so he hadn’t told her much more about the man.

  “Look …” Kerr started again. “I have been a healer in other lifetimes.”

  Batal snorted. “How is that supposed to help us now?” she wanted to know.

  Taking a deep breath, Kerr told her. “You know my name is Kerr in this life time, but you might know me by another name. I’ve been called Sabbah,” he told her, his gaze locking with hers.

  “Oh,” was all she could manage. Savaar hadn’t told her that part. Did he even know? “You’re his brother then?”

  In response, Kerr took his Tear out of his pocket, holding it up for her to see.

  Batal’s mind was racing. She had sworn to protect Savaar, but now he was laying in her arms, dying. The things she remembered about Sabbah were a jumble of history, mythology, and guesses. None of Amphedia’s children had ever much cared for each other that much she knew for certain. If she let his brother - if he even was, indeed, his brother and not some kind of trickster - near him, Sabbah might actually kill him instead of heal him. Then again, there really wasn’t much preventing him from doing whatever he wanted anyway; there was very little she could do with Savaar lying across her lap.