Eyan walked toward Alicine. “He’s angry again?” he said when he reached her. “Why is he always so angry?”
Alicine blinked. Eyan was right. Dayn was angry a lot. Before, when he was just Dayn, before he had gone to Tearia and learned his true name, he had been mild-mannered, at times almost docile. But now…
“He hates it here,” Alicine said.
“Why?”
“He wants to be someplace else.”
“Where? That place ye went to before?”
“Yes.”
Eyan tilted his head. “I don’t see why. It’s nice here. But I don’t know very much because I’ve never been anywhere but here.”
Alicine studied Eyan’s face. “You really haven’t been anywhere else, have you. That’s—” She shifted her attention to the line. “Never mind.”
“That’s what?”
“That’s sad is all.” Alicine felt uneasy at having said it. Eyan’s exile from society was sad, but did he think so? He had been protected, but as a result knew little of the things a young man his age should know. He was innocent, almost childlike, and could easily be wounded by those who might not understand him. Maybe Dayn was right. Maybe the Gathering wasn’t such a good idea.
Back to ToC
Part Two: Parting Seas
Chapter 9: The Big Shell
Reiv stood in the doorway of the hut, gazing out through a drape of cockles toward the beach dunes beyond. The sun was high, casting a dazzling light upon the sand’s golden crests, and soft gray shadows along their drifts. Waves clapped against the shoreline. Distant voices stirred with the hum of a late-morning breeze. Reiv pulled the salty air through his nostrils, relishing the musty ocean scent. It had not been that long ago that he had feared the vast waters, but since coming to the seaside village of Meirla a few months prior, he had come to love the sea as his own.
He arched his back and stretched his arms, working the tightness from his muscles. He’d slept hard that night, and his joints felt achy and thick. Bedding on a pallet had a way of doing that to a prince raised with down comforters and plump feather pillows. But he was no longer a prince; now he was a Shell Seeker living with four other people in a palm-frond hut, missing the comforts of a real bed, and longing for the privacy he once knew.
The people Reiv lived with all had cots, but he didn’t really mind. He had, in fact, acquired one of his own recently, much to his delight at the time. It was constructed of reeds and strapping, layered with piles upon piles of soft palm fronds. In the brief time he’d slept on it, he’d come to think it every bit as nice as the royal bed he’d once owned. But then his aunt Brina had come to live with them, and he’d had no choice but to turn it over to her. Brina was a strong woman, but her royal disposition was not accustomed to a mat, and Reiv’s pride would never allow a woman to sleep on the floor while he slept on a cot.
He lifted a hand to his eyes and scanned the sunny landscape. Brina could be seen marching toward him, returning from the fresh-water springs beyond the palms. A large reed basket was clutched in her arms, and an expression of distaste was plastered across her face. Even through the distance, Reiv could see that her lips were primed for a reprimand. But he wasn’t concerned. Brina was more a mother to him than an aunt, and he was accustomed to her frequent lectures. When he had been Prince, her terse words were usually rebukes of his youthful rebelliousness. Now they were focused more on his work ethics, or what she considered his lack of them.
“Well, I see you are finally up,” Brina said as she brushed past him to the drying line. She plopped the basket onto the ground, then pulled out a wet garment and flung it across the line. She shot him a look. “Sleeping all morning, lazy child. You will not find many shells reclined on a bedroll.”
Reiv strolled toward her. “I find plenty of shells, in case you have not noticed,” he said. “Besides, it is not that late. Look…it is barely high sun.”
Brina scowled and snapped another garment in her hand. “High sun indeed. While you slept like a prince, I tended your horse, hung fish to smoke, washed your clothing—”
“Fine…fine,” Reiv said, raising his hands in defense. “I will go right now if that will make you happy. I certainly would not want to interrupt your martyrdom. You are so good at it.”
Brina spun to face him. She tossed the garment back into the basket and thrust her fists to her hips. “Martyrdom? I will thank you to reconsider that remark!”
Reiv could not help but laugh. “Very well,” he said. “It is reconsidered.”
“Well it had better be! And while you are at it, you might reconsider a few more things…those sleeping habits of yours for one…buried under the blankets ‘til all hours of the morning…you should be ashamed.”
Brina shoved a strand of white-blonde hair from her eyes and swept it behind her ear. She had never been meticulous about her hair, but since coming to live with the Shell Seekers, it had gotten downright undisciplined. It didn’t help that she now had a multitude of daily chores to do, chores that servants once did for her. Nor did it help that she no longer had a dressing table of hair clips and grooming tools at her disposal. But still, considering everything, she had adapted well to the more earthly realities of life.
Reiv gave her a hug. “I am sorry, Brina. You are right. You are always right.”
“Hmmph!” She turned and reached into the basket, then hung another piece of laundry over the line. “Well I am certainly right about this much—Kerrik will bring in the best shells today, and I will hear no complaints from you when he does.”
“Ho, no,” Reiv said with a chuckle. “The sprite will not beat me today. I am feeling lucky.”
“It will take more than luck to beat that boy. He has been diving since dawn.”
“We shall see who beats who,” Reiv said, turning and ducking back into the hut. He stepped toward the grooming table and raked a comb through his long, red hair, then, after binding it at his back, leaned toward the reflective plate to outline his eyes with kohl. It was a Shell Seeker custom to decorate one’s eyes, and though Reiv did not wish to waste time with it now, he at least made an attempt. He grabbed his belt, knife, and hunting bag and secured them at his waist, then before leaving, scrubbed his teeth with a leaf of mint.
He tossed the leaf aside and hustled out the door.
“How many shells will you be finding today, Brina?” he asked as he walked past her.
“More than you at this rate,” she said. But in truth she had never dipped a toe into the sea and likely never would.
Reiv laughed and continued on, his feet crunching across the sand as he made his way toward the water. He scanned the teal surface for a sign of Kerrik, but saw no hint of him. The boy always headed out early, an advantage when it came to finding the nicest shells. But Reiv usually managed to hold his own; he had a knack for finding those hard-to-reach treasures tucked between the rocks. Jensa, Kerrik’s older sister, would also be out and about. She and her older brother Torin were always the first ones up. As the accepted leaders of the household, Jensa and Torin were surprisingly generous in regard to Reiv’s need to sleep late; he seemed to require it more than the average person. But they still expected him to work late in order to catch up. And there was a lot of catching up to do.
During the earthquake weeks before, the sea had become violent and unpredictable. Many huts were dragged into its depths, while others were shaken to the ground or crushed beneath the weight of falling palms. For a while the Shell Seekers dared not venture into the waters; the tides were swift and unforgiving. But now the sea was finally calm and most of the huts rebuilt, except for the one Reiv hoped to have for his own one day. But there was no time for dreaming of huts; there was only time for seeking.
Reiv spotted Kerrik’s head bobbling offshore, then saw his feet kick into the air as he dove beneath the surface. Reiv could not help but beam. It had not been that long ago that the boy lay bleeding on the sand, his wounds from an encounter with a monstrous sea snake so sever
e that recovery was doubtful. But now there he was, diving as if he had never been injured at all.
Kerrik bobbed back up. He turned his grinning face toward Reiv. “Oy, Reiv,” his high-pitched voice shouted. He hoisted a large shell out of the water and flaunted it in the air.
Reiv waved and continued his approach. “So you have a fine one already, do you,” Reiv muttered. “Well, we shall see who comes out with the greatest catch today.” He stepped into the water, determined not to waste a single moment more, but angry voices suddenly diverted his attention. He stopped to look down the shoreline. Jensa could be seen in the distance, facing a dark-haired young man about her age. Her arms were waving as her mouth contorted angrily.
Reiv considered staying out of it—Jensa was a girl certainly capable of defending herself—but then he saw the man grab Jensa’s arm, and a surge of fury bubbled in his throat.
Reiv sloshed out of the water and stormed in their direction. As he drew nearer, he saw Jensa try to work her arm free, but the young man gripped it even tighter.
“Get your hands off of her,” Reiv ordered upon reaching them.
The young man glared at Reiv, but did not let loose his hold on Jensa. “This is none of your concern,” he growled.
Jensa turned her eyes to Reiv. “I can handle this, Reiv,” she said.
“No doubt,” Reiv said. “But I will see no man put his hands on you like that.”
The man scoffed. “Your hands have been on her often enough!”
“That was out of line, Lyal,” Jensa said.
“Was it?” Lyal retorted. “I’ve heard the talk.”
“And what talk would that be?” Reiv asked.
“As if you don’t know,” Lyal replied.
“As a matter of fact, I do not.” Reiv took a threatening step forward. “Now, you had best tell me or—”
“Or what?” Lyal said. “Will you assault me with those pitiful fists of yours? Or will you simply transcend and have Agneis do your fighting for you.”
“Enough!” Jensa said. She wrenched her arm free. “Lyal. You would do well to ignore the idle gossip of a few old women.”
“It’s not idle,” Lyal said. “And it’s not a few old women. Everyone is talking about it.”
“Talking about what?” Reiv asked.
Jensa rubbed her arm and averted her face from Reiv’s probing gaze.
“Jensa?” Reiv said, commanding a response.
“There is talk that you and I are…mates. You are an unrelated male living in my hut. Naturally people think the worst.”
Reiv was taken aback. The worst? The thought of her being with him was the worst? True, he didn’t think of Jensa in that way, at least not since their first meeting when he thought her the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. But that had been months ago and since then he had come to think of her only as a friend. But for him to be considered the worst?
“That’s right,” Lyal said. “Everyone knows what’s going on between you.”
“That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Reiv said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell this arrogant oaf of a Shell Seeker!” Jensa said.
“Then why has Reiv not yet taken another woman?” Lyal demanded of her. “Enough feminine heads have turned his way. Why has he not responded to them? I’ll tell you why—because he has you!”
“Have you no sense at all?” Jensa said.
“What? You think a man who’s had as many women as the prince would take no notice of you?”
Had as many women as the prince? Reiv’s pride swelled. So Lyal thought he had been with a lot of women, eh? Fine, let him think it. No sense confessing that he was still pure in that regard. That would be more humiliating than being described as “the worst.”
“And you, Jensa; why do you avoid me?” Lyal ranted on. “You act as if I never even existed for you!”
Reiv eyed the young man with distaste. He was obviously jealous of Reiv’s supposed relationship with Jensa, yet Reiv had never witnessed the two of them together until now. He had seen Lyal around, of course, and was well aware of the handsome Shell Seeker’s charisma. Perhaps Reiv had turned a few girls’ heads, but if Lyal happened to be anywhere around, the heads always swiveled from Reiv and instantly turned to Lyal.
“Who are you, anyway?” Reiv asked.
“You know full well who I am,” Lyal practically shouted.
“No, fool. I mean who are you in relation to Jensa? I do not recall seeing you with her, nor do I recall her ever mentioning your name.”
Lyal’s face went blood red. “Why…she is my woman!”
“I am no such thing,” Jensa said coolly. She turned to address Reiv. “Lyal and I knew each other for a short while, before you came to Meirla. But he is not the sort of man who can be with only one woman. I will have no man who cannot be faithful to me.”
“Well, Lyal,” Reiv said, “since I am acquainted with so many women, Jensa obviously would have no interest in the likes of me.”
Lyal remained silent, sorting through the defense Reiv had tossed his way.
“There you have it,” Jensa said. “The prince is too much of a ladies man for my taste.”
Reiv felt like beaming, but he kept his expression in check. “I will not lie to you Lyal. I did find her attractive at first. But after seeing her every morning for the past several weeks, I can honestly say she no longer appeals to me.”
Jensa shot Reiv a look, but he winked at her, aware that Lyal’s eyes were turned momentarily elsewhere.
“Well,” Reiv said with a pretended yawn, “if you will excuse me, I have some seeking to do. You know, with all this talk about women, perhaps I will do my seeking outside the waters today.” He turned to leave, but paused to look back over his shoulder. “But if I see your hands on her again, Lyal, you will learn that my scarred fists are not as weak as you think.”
As Reiv sauntered off, he could not help but replay his own snappy comeback. After seeing her every morning I can honestly say she no longer appeals to me. He laughed to himself, but then he thought of Jensa and how she truly looked in the morning. Her long, light brown hair would be a tumble of locks, and the thin dressing gown she wore would barely conceal her feminine curves.
He shook his head, trying to fling the image of Jensa from his mind. There could never be anything between them; he knew that. Besides, what about Alicine? She was the one he wanted—wasn’t she? But Alicine was gone now, returned to Kirador and not likely to come back. It was true that Shell Seeker girls had expressed an interest in him, but Reiv had remained faithful to Alicine, just as he had been faithful to Cinnia before that. But saving himself for true love did not seem to be paying off. How long was he expected to wait?
He suddenly became aggravated at the state of his love life, or lack of it. Cinnia had abandoned him when his hands were burned, Alicine did not think him worth staying for, and Jensa thought him “the worst.” Lyal and the others thought Reiv a man. But Reiv did not feel like a man at all. Right now he felt like a boy—a pure, stupid, inexperienced boy.
He marched on furiously, turning his anger toward the women who had rejected him, and funneling even more of it toward Lyal who had more than his share of partners. What made Lyal so special? Reiv wondered. The bastard was good looking enough, but that arrogance of his. It wasn’t fair that girls turned their eyes from Reiv when that conceited rooster named Lyal strutted by. Maybe it was Lyal’s confidence; he did have a confident walk. Perhaps Reiv could practice his walk…and his talk. Reiv ground his teeth. Women were so much work. Why were they so much work? Regardless, he would save himself no longer. He would be more like Lyal. He would strut and brag; he would be a rooster, whatever it took. Yes, he determined, he would have his way with the first girl that came along.
And then she came along.
Reiv recognized the young woman strolling toward him; she had commented to him once that she liked the kohl design he painted around his eyes. She wasn’t beautiful
, not the type he was normally drawn to, but at least she was female. And right now any female would do.
“Hello, Reiv,” the girl chirped as she drew near.
He stopped, facing her, and smiled his most charming smile. But his charm evaporated in a hurry when he realized he did not remember her name. “Hello, um…hello.”
“Cora,” she said. “My name is Cora.”
“Oh yes…of course. I knew that—Cora,” he said.
He ran his eyes over her, assessing her features. She was an unusual looking girl, with a friendly, freckled face, and hair the color of straw. Her body was round and ample, especially her breasts, and Reiv found his attentions lingering on them for a moment.
“What are you staring at?” Cora asked, her expression indicating she knew full well what.
Reiv felt his face blush. “Nothing…I mean…sorry…I was just going to my hut. Would you like to—would you like to—” His words froze. Gods, was he insane?
“Join you?” she asked with a playful arch of her brow.
Reiv’s heart raced. Yes, that was what he was going to say, but now that she had said it in his place, he could not help but wonder what she meant. Did she mean she wanted to join him, or join with him? And what if he misunderstood? The way the village gossiped about him, why, he would be a laughing stock. Reiv felt a case of nerves gurgle in his belly. “Would you like to see my bump?” he blurted.
“Your what?”
“My hump. I mean, my hut.”
“Well, of the choices you’ve offered, I would have to go with the hut,” Cora said.
Take her to the hut. Just do it. Reiv grabbed her hand, pulling her behind him as he marched on. Perhaps this really was going to be his lucky day. But as he headed in the planned direction, he realized he didn’t have a hut to take her to. Not one to call his own, anyway. And what did he expect to do with her when he got her there? He didn’t have a proper bed, but even if he did, there was little chance for privacy. Brina would be there, and probably Torin with his second haul of the day. No, the most Reiv could hope to offer the girl was a mug of tepid tea.
Souls of Aredyrah 3 - The Taking of the Dawn Page 8