Journey of Awakening

by Shawna Thomas

  “Child.” Her grandfather stood before her, his face shadowed by the sun behind him. He settled next to her. “We will stay with Jith for a moon, then travel inland where an old friend lives. There we will discover more about the stone and what we must do.”

  She nodded.

  “Change is difficult. For some more than others. But you will learn to adjust. Change is part of life. It is growth, rebirth.”

  “I know this. You’ve taught me well.” Sara patted his hand, sure his words were more for him than her. “I’m ready.”

  “You’ve said that every day for an entire cycle of seasons.”

  “Well, it’s about time you listened.”

  His quick smile disappeared. “I don’t think you understand. There are too many unanswered questions, too many unknowns. It makes an old soldier leery. I chose the island to shelter you, protect you, but perhaps also because I enjoyed having you to myself a little too much. It might have been a mistake. You are unwise to the ways of the world.”

  “I’ll learn. I’ll have you there to teach me.” She squeezed his hand. “Grandfather, if the stone is as important as you say, it’s time to find out more. Once our task is done, I’ll find a cozy cabin and surround you with enough books to keep you busy while there is light enough to read.”

  “I fear it won’t be as easy as you think.”

  She shrugged. “Thanks to your training I am a Shi’ia warrior and a healer. I don’t require easy.”

  Willam laughed. “Ah the confidence of youth.” He placed a warm, calloused hand over hers. “I have done what I needed to do and so will you.”

  “Where do we start?” she asked. He needed to give her the information more than she needed to hear it. Again.

  “The Siobani.”

  “The Siobani,” she repeated. Everything they’d read about the race indicated they were only a fairy tale. She didn’t doubt the Siobani existed, or at least once existed, because she held one of the mythical stones, but the only mention of three stones were in very ancient texts that also mentioned dragons and fairies. The method of finding them was one of the mysteries they would have to solve. “Tell me again, if the mainlanders don’t believe in the Siobani, how do we find them?”

  “Research.” He shrugged.

  “It’s a good thing I like puzzles,” she muttered.

  “Shh, child. You are impatient. It comes with youth, I suppose. There is time enough.” He sighed. “You may have always wanted to sail these waters, but I’m an old man and I enjoy the feel of solid land beneath my feet. I will be glad when this journey is over. I know enough about that stone to know it has power. We will find what we need. It’s time for you to meditate.” He patted her knee then rose to move closer to Jith.

  Sara smiled. Not even an ocean voyage broke her grandfather’s strict adherence to training. He’d often said meditation and Shi’ia were brothers. One couldn’t be separated from the other.

  Her grandfather asked Jith to explain the purpose of the different ropes attached to the mast. Sara rolled her eyes. Her grandfather wanted to know everything and was always inventing new devices or new ways of accomplishing a task. He’d warned her that the mainlanders didn’t share his enthusiasm for change and most would suspect he was some kind of mage. Most, but not Jith. Willam and Jith had been friends for longer than Sara had been alive.

  Closing her eyes, she took the salty air deep into her lungs; her breathing evened as she focused on absorbing and channeling the energy of earth, sky, fire and water. Here, water ruled, followed by sky, but the other elements were present in lesser degrees. Her senses expanded. The sounds around her became distinct. Waves teased the wooden skimmer as the wind carried it through the waters. She opened her mind further. The ocean swarmed with life. Schools of fish followed the currents of the ocean in the skimmer’s wake while slow ponderous creatures—for which Sara had no name—crawled across the ocean floor or swam in its depths. She sensed beyond the visible to the unknown creatures hidden in every drop of water contained within the ocean.

  Far away, birds sailed the currents of the air and for a brief moment, Sara caught a glimpse of a greater cycle of which she was only part. Here was balance, beauty. They had always practiced meditation as a part of Shi’ia, the ancient art of warfare her grandfather taught her, but after he gave her the necklace, he explained she rode the winds of Teann. He called Teann the life-breath of the universe. It was as apt name as any to explain the experience. He admitted he didn’t understand any more than his Shi’ia instructor had taught him, but he knew there was more, much more. She agreed with him. The first time Sara had tried to meditate wearing the necklace, she’d gone so far so fast, she felt she would lose herself, but she adjusted, reveling in the abundance around her.

  With her eyes closed and life swirling around her, she pictured the stone in the necklace. Dark blue and swathed in silver filigree, the jewel was beautiful and as hard as it was to explain, she understood that it was now part of her, or who she was becoming. Who am I becoming? A chill of fear shot up her spine.

  Her voice, heavy with awe, echoed in her head, answered by her grandfather’s deep bass. She could almost feel the cool stone beneath her fingers as she touched it for the first time many years ago.

  “How can a stone be powerful?”

  “I don’t know, but this one is. Ilydearta is one of three powerful stones created in ancient times.”

  “I know the legend. There were three stones that brought balance and prosperity to the land.”

  “No legend. Truth. We must find the other two. It is our—your—task. We must find someone to teach you how to use the stone. How to protect it. We won’t be able to hide forever.”

  She could now hear the slight fear in her grandfather’s voice that she had missed as a child. What was he afraid of?

  A shudder made its way up her spine. The voice of the wind changed, became more insistent. Distant birds adjusted their flight and turned toward land. The air thickened.

  “What’s wrong?” Her grandfather’s voice brought her back to the skimmer. Sara opened her eyes and breathed deep as she focused.

  “The wind changed.” Jith’s words were strained. He held on to the tiller with both hands. “Bring the sail down, son.” A ring of concern tinged the waverider’s voice and Sara looked around. The ocean didn’t seem to be any rougher, but the breeze had picked up, and she sensed the storm gain strength. The mast groaned, as though indignant at the rough treatment. Haboth hauled a rope to furl the sail. He secured it against the mast and at stern before hurrying to his father. The two spoke in low tones; their legs splayed against the skimmer’s rhythm. Sara couldn’t make out enough to determine what they were talking about.

  A movement to her side distracted her and Sara turned to see her grandfather wobble across the deck then lurch onto the bench beside her. He took her hand. “Don’t worry. Jith is the best waverider I know.”

  Dark clouds now hid the western sky. The waves crashed against the wooden vessel and water began to fill the bottom of the skimmer at an alarming rate. “How many do you know?” She attempted a smile.

  Willam patted her hand. She strained to hear what Jith was saying but the wind whipped his words away. Haboth nodded then moved with s
ilent efficiency around the skimmer, finally sitting on the bench and reaching down for the oars.

  Jith approached. “The wind has blown us too far south. No use fighting it. We’ll make land, wait out the storm, then continue on our journey. I’m going to row with Haboth. Willam, hold the tiller.” He darted a glance toward Willam then turned to Sara. “Lass, I need you to bail the water out of the bottom of the skimmer.” His pale eyes regarded her steadily as he unhooked a bucket lashed to the gunwale.

  Sara nodded and took the battered wooden bucket, sank to her knees, scooped half a pail of water and dumped it over the side.

  Out the corner of her eye, she watched Grandfather place his hands next to Jith’s on the tiller. They shared words, and then Jith moved toward Haboth, who was already straining against two long oars threaded through wooden loops on each gunwale. Jith settled next to him, taking up one of the oars. Together, they began to struggle against the sea. Muscles bulged in their necks and arms, but Sara couldn’t tell if they were making progress in the direction they wanted to go. Her stomach soured. It will be all right. They’ve sailed through worse storms than this.

  The sky darkened further, and its smoky expanse leached into the water, blurring their surroundings until she couldn’t tell where the water began or ended.

  The ropes holding their cargo creaked in protest as the skimmer rolled from side to side. Sara dumped bucket after bucket of water back into the ocean but the ocean threw twice as much back at her. The water level in the skimmer continued to rise. Water soaked her tunic and blouse and darkened the leather of her leggings, making her movements stiff and awkward. She redoubled her efforts until her arms ached, then froze in disbelief as a dark wall of water loomed over their craft and seemed to wait for a heartbeat before crashing down with a mighty roar.

  Salty water stung her eyes. She tossed her head and blinked in an attempt to free herself from the temporary blindness. She felt her grandfather next to her, still holding the tiller, and blinked again at the dim shapes of Jith and Haboth a length away. The ocean’s roar had drowned all other sound.

  The water churned around them, the waves growing taller with each passing heartbeat. She continued to bail, full buckets now, but it was a pitiful effort. Twice the wind blew the contents of her bucket back into her face and almost wrestled it from her grasp as though insulted by her offer. She wrapped the bucket’s rope around her wrist and frantically resumed bailing. She was trying to empty the ocean with a pail.

  To her right, she saw the ocean spray up reaching into the heavens. She looked to Jith. Father and son bent over the oars, their arms straining against the waves. Jith’s mouth opened, he screamed something, but his words drowned in the roar of slamming water driven by a merciless wind.

  Then she saw what they must have. Dark water turned into silver spray as it beat against the partly submerged projections ahead. Rocks. She jerked her head to Willam, her hand wrapping around the bucket’s rope. “Grandfather!” A sudden flash of lightning highlighted his face, taut, rigid, cast from stone. Jith yelled again, but Sara couldn’t hear the words. A low groan sounded from far away and the skimmer shuddered. Fragments of screamed words reached Sara’s ear, but one filled her heart with terror.

  “Aground!”

  The skimmer pitched and Sara clutched the bucket as the overburdened ropes holding the cargo snapped and the sea claimed everything Sara and Willam owned. She turned from the disappearing baskets to meet her grandfather’s gaze. His pale blue eyes overflowed with love but seemed tinged with a defeat that frightened her more than the ocean’s fury. He mouthed, “I love you.” Then the skimmer shook and the sound of splintering wood filled Sara’s world.

  Everything solid disappeared. The waters reached forward to grasp her, dragging her down to the depths. No! You will not have me. We will make it to Anatar. Sara gasped for air when she surfaced. Dark gray skies melded with the darker ocean. She caught sight of bits of wood as the ocean carried her up toward the angry heavens, before dipping her back down in a valley of churning water.

  “Grandfather!” she yelled, but the ocean filled her mouth and drowned the word.

  Chapter Two

  The crack of wood hitting wood reverberated across the quiet beach. For a while, a slow cadence of sharp taps matched the rhythm of waves breaking against the shore, before soaring into a drumming flurry as the opponents tested each other’s defenses. Sweat ran down Sara’s neck and between her breasts. She parried her grandfather’s blow and lunged, methodically driving him back. He counterattacked faster than her eye could follow, and she backstepped, reacting from instinct, her practice sword a blur.

  Willam’s feet glided across the sands, the soles of his sandals distorting the ripples left by the tide. Although his skin glistened with sweat and his wild mop of gray hair lay flat against his head, his blue eyes sparkled with energy and pride.

  Icy-cold water splashed to her waist. He’d maneuvered her farther into the surf. She sidestepped to counter a lightning-fast blow as he took advantage of her inattention. One generous eyebrow rose, losing itself behind silver bangs as he smiled, stepped back and lowered his sword. “Use everything available to swing the favor in your direction.”

  He’s not even winded. Sara gazed out across to the ocean surrounding their tiny island. Deep turquoise water shot with bright striations—like living marble—stretched as far as the eye could see. White wings flashed as gulls soared against the blue sky. She followed their serene ballet, a puff of wind chilling her flushed skin and whipping dark hair into her eyes as she looked again to the horizon where the small white dot had caught her eye.

  “Child, where is your mind? Obviously not on practice.”

  “The skimmer is coming.”

  Why did that thought bring dread instead of the usual excitement? Sara stared after her grandfather with something close to panic as he began to recede. The sky dimmed. Pain. “Grandfather, the skimmer.”

  “Shh, lass.”

  Something cool touched her brow. Sara struggled to open her eyes; her throat hurt. “The skimmer.”

  “No. No skimmer.” A woman’s face hovered in her vision. Clouds of gray hair framed kind features and concerned blue eyes before Sara’s heavy eyelids closed. Something warm and wet pressed against her lips. Sara drank it greedily. Her limbs weighed too much. She began to sink into the softness beneath her.

  “S
leep ye will, child. Ye need it.” The mattress lifted and the sound of shuffled feet followed. “I always said ye were akin to the Mother. No telling what She’ll give you, but a wee lass?”

  “Don’t start with that special-favor nonsense, woman. I was where I needed to be,” a deeper voice answered.

  Sara recalled strong hands lifting her and wrapping rough cloth around her body, but no more. She fought against the pull of oblivion. Where was her grandfather? What had happened? She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound issued from her throat. Water. Waves. The rocks! Alarm drummed through her body.

  “Shh...relax. Ye’re safe now, child,” the softer voice soothed.

  Safe? The weight increased. She was sinking. Waves of darkness crashed over her, pulling her down.

  “She gives and She takes away. I’ve heard tell of babies carried to shore on the backs of water creatures, but never full-grown lasses.”

  The woman’s voice faded.

  * * *

  Sara opened her eyes to a blurry world. The ocean roared faint but comforting in the distance. A nightmare. Relief poured through her body, cooling her limbs. She breathed deep, and her stomach churned, threatening to empty. Had she been sick? She rolled over on her side, fighting the nausea.

  Pale curtains caught and diffused the light as they folded in a gentle breeze. She focused on the dancing curtains that edged a small window where pink-tinged clouds skated across a blue sky. Dust motes traveled along shafts of light until they reached the white textured wall above her bed.

  Where am I?

  Her heart sped and the nausea deepened. Sara sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. A large wooden table, bare save for a bouquet of purple flowers, dominated the room. Her stomach beat in time with her heart.