by Kylie Leane
“To your own people, my dear, you have seen many things that makes you old.”
A brief smile graced her lips at his words, before she ducked her head away, like a shy cub.
“They are your people as well.” Her paw fleetingly brushed his arm.
Denvy shook his head. “I am afraid I am not that much of a Kattamont anymore.”
“It will come back to you, old one.”
“You know, you are very welcome to just call me Denvy.” He turned, though every muscle protested the movement as he faced her, taking in the subtle changes of her features. She was not dreamathic. It was impossible to even begin to sense her emotions with the yoke binding his mind. But, strangely enough, it heightened every little movement, every twitch of her whiskers and flick of her ears. The light of the Mist through the sails made her dark pelt shine and the spectral sheen of her feathers illume, evoking the ancestry she could rightly claim lineage to—she was a true Silvertide Queen.
“Tell me,” he asked, scratching at his chin, “how did a queen such as yourself end up the lone warrior and captain of a single small trading sand-ship that houses outcasts and misfits?”
The defiant shine in her eyes dulled with grief. Her claws plucked at her fan-tail feathers. “Perhaps, Denvy, someday I shall tell you the sad tale.” She unfolded from the crate and brushed past him to stand beside him at the railing. She was small against him. She would have been small compared with most princes, and many princesses, but it felt comfortable as she slotted in beneath his arm.
“For now I will simply tell you that I disagreed with how my Pride treated those they considered inferior.” Zafiashid sniffed. “The princesses thought that by casting me out I would die without a Pride, for they knew none of them could defeat me in battle.” Her brow furrowed. “But my Pride is the dancing stars, the grains in the burning-sea, and all the ghosts of the slain misfit children I could not save. I have my Pride.”
He reached for her paw, smothering it in his own and squeezing it tightly. “You are a true queen.”
Her smile was hesitant, and beautiful, stealing his breath from his lungs.
“And you, old one, are Utillia’s Gold Lion. I am glad you have returned to your Pride”
His pride. Utillia was his pride. He had never been a part of Utillia, nor the Kattamont nation—but perhaps this time it would be different. Denvy turned to the gleaming dunes and the sorrowful song on the tongue of the wind. “Something has gone dreadfully wrong and I intend to find out what that is.” He squeezed her paw again. “Will you help me, Queen Zafiashid Silvertide?”
“I feel the tides changing,” she whispered.
About the Author
Kylie Leane lives in the beautiful hills of Adelaide, South Australia, with her dimensional hopping pet cat Aislinn Dreamer. When they are not travelling to different worlds, recording historical events, she spends a considerable amount of time at the local café writing, and in her spare time she illustrates cute little green aliens, or watches some Anime (update on the Netflix situation, dimensional rift has moved - now have access.)
Having been raised with a love of old classic Science Fiction thanks to her Dad, Kylie adores all things spacey and science and she acquired a bountiful amount of creativity thanks to her resourceful Mum.
Kylie started writing Chronicles of the Children when she was about ten, coming up with the idea for the story in the back seat of the car on a long drive with the family. Despite being dyslexic, she taught herself how to write and spell through her stories.
Kylie was diagnosed with chronic pain when she was nineteen, and now tries to live life day to day. She’s come to realize that she is going to be in pain anyway, so she may as well live her life to the best of her abilities. She had always found strength in the world of imagination and story-telling, and uses her weaving of tales and characters as a way to cope with the daily battle of pain.
She has a great desire to share her stories with the world and to spend her life encouraging others to use their own gifts. To let them know that even though they might have their own limitations, through their own imagination and their uniqueness everyone has a truly marvelous and incredible strength living inside them.
Due to her chronic pain, Kylie tends to spend many hours inhabiting little corners of the world wide web, such as Facebook and Youtube.
She loves hearing from people, so if you ever happen to be online feel free to drop her a line—she has a website, blog and email:
authorkylie.com
[email protected]
End Notes
1 – The mountain range that rings the borders of Pennadot.
2 – Rythrya – means ‘Guiding Stone’. In this case it is in reference to the ‘Seven Rythrya’ which are the great guiding stones worshipped in Utillia by all Kattamonts. However, scattered across Utillia, there are many ‘rythrya’ used to guide sand-ships through the burning-sea. Chaplains use them to navigate the winds and currents.
3 – Nyhot – medium sized sailing vessel, two masts. Typically equipped with twenty-five guns, five officers, a doctor, chaplain (wind-tamer), purser, and up to one-hundred and fifty able-bodied burning-seafolk.
4 – Ki’rayh (Key-rah) - High Class Twizels that have lived long enough to gain a personality beyond the Hive, and a True Name, which separates them from the Hive.
5 – The Great Four Winds: North (Khamsin), South, East, West. Across Utillia the Kattamont Prides will tend to have affiliation with one, or all, of the Great Four. The Silvertide Pride was under the affiliation of the North until the casting out of Queen Zafiashid, when it is said that the blessing of Khamsin moved on with her.
6 – Usks – magnificent, large burning-sea-dwelling creature, rarely seen, but said to be good luck to sailors. Sometimes they get beached on islands, and their bones are used for building homes of island-dwellers.
7 – Dhow – a sand-ship with a maximum crew of twelve.
Binary/hexadecimal to Text
Chapter Two:
Sekhmet
Chapter Six:
Do not speak of the Key so freely. They could be listening.
Chapter Ten:
Send Beer
Chapter Twelve:
I have the Key. Safe. Kemet/Cal'pash'coo. Finding Osiris.
Last Transmission. Hazanin.