The Foundlings (The Swords of Xigara)

by J. Mark Miller

  This day, Tenna came up the forecastle looking for Mas and found the shamaness stretched out provocatively on a hammock. Tenna walked off in disgust. She knew Tander was being manipulated, but it didn’t make the betrayal of their friendship sting any less.

  Not one to sit and pine over a boy, Tenna went on about her day, trying to put Tander out of her mind.

  She found Katalas and Duras on the main deck filing the dents and scratches out of every blade in sight, both their own and the crew’s. They chatted for a while, but she didn’t stay long because they were focusing on their work in an effort to be done before lunch. Y’neth stood up on the quarterdeck with Stile. Their attentions were on one another as they shared their love of the sea. They basked in one another’s company and Tenna refused to disturb them.

  When she went belowdecks to look for Karah, she found her with Doulos and her father, conferring over the four Xigara swords in their possession. Though they didn’t say, she sensed the three adults would rather be left alone, so she went to the cabin to practice her kathedo techniques.

  Quist had taken time each day to show her the basics. He made much of the fact that she would not find the true benefits of the practice accessible to her since she was not an elf, but cautioned her about the risks of entering a kathedo trance without someone poised to bring her out. When she pointed out there was no risk since she was human, he encouraged her to be prudent.

  There was no point in worrying. Despite telling herself she could keep Tander’s rejection from bothering her, thoughts of him up on the deck with Tawn flooded her mind as she attempted to clear her mind and relax. She finally gave up in anger and got up to wander the ship’s lower decks.

  Traveling aboard a ship hadn’t been entirely like the stories in her father’s books. Granted, the Sunset’s Trace was no buccaneer’s scow, but the crew was far more disciplined than she’d expected. Stile ran a tight ship and Tenna suspected much of that was due to his background in the Maehdrasian navy.

  The Sunset’s Trace was a fair sized three-master, but it wasn’t long before Tenna had seen all there was to see. Some of the crew acted jittery when she came near—that old superstition about women aboard ship being bad luck rearing its head. There was nothing better to do than head back above and watch the coast flow by.

  She met Tander coming down the stairs in a huff. He nearly bowled her over before he noticed her. His face was flushed in anger.

  “Oh, hi,” Tander said.

  “Problem?” Tenna asked, not really caring for an answer.

  “No.” Tander turned away. “Well…I mean, yes. I was trying to talk to Tawn, but she kept ignoring me to talk to Quist and…oh, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “I wouldn’t understand?” Tenna’s voice was hard.

  “There’s something strange going on between them,” Tander went on, oblivious to her tone. “She’s been that way since she came aboard. She’ll talk to me unless that elf comes around, then she completely ignores me.”

  The boy was breathing hard, his hands balled up into tight fists at his sides. Tenna reached out and touched his arm and it was as if a spell was broken. Tander looked around in confusion as if he wasn’t sure where he was or how he’d gotten there.

  “Tenna?” His brow furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. Tenna met his gaze as he reached up to caress her cheek. Her breath grew short as his hand came near.

  But instead of touching her cheek, his fingertips found her ear. Confusion spread across his face.

  “What?” she snapped—harder than she meant to.

  “I never noticed your ears are pointed,” Tander said.

  “Huh? What are you on about?” Tenna frowned. “My ears aren’t pointed.”

  His touch was gentle as he ran his thumb up the front of her ear. “Yes, they are.”

  She’d had enough. Her emotions erupted like a volcano and swept over the boy. She came nose to nose and started yelling in his face.

  “You…you drop out of the sky like a prince and everyone fawns over you with your fancy clothes and your beautiful voice…and I fell for it.”

  “But…” Tander stammered, retreating up the stairs.

  “All those hours I spent with you, being your friend, nursing you back to health, and this is how you treat me? That…witch up there shows you some skin and a little attention and it changes you so much you come down here and mock me? How dare you, you self-centered, lecherous pig.”

  She turned and stormed away, marching to her cabin and slamming the door. She refused to cry, refused to give Tander the gift of her tears.

  Splashing lukewarm water on her face from the washbasin offered no comfort. She gripped the basin’s sides and looked up at the mirror hanging from one of the ship’s spines. Staring herself down, she struggled to release her anger, determined to forever put thoughts of Tander behind.

  Peace began its slow return and she reached for a towel to dry her hair. She fluffed a few drenched strands, drying them and tucking them behind her ears.

  Tenna gasped and dropped the towel into the water. Her hands flew up to her ears and she leaned closer to the mirror.

  Here ears were pointed.

  “It’s possible you have elven heritage in your ancestry,” Karah said as she sat brushing through her hair, “but I’m not sure how it would explain your sudden display of traits. Half-elves are usually human in stature, perhaps slight of bone, but are always marked with my people’s pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes. Those traits are alway apparent from birth.” Karah paused and set down her brush. “There could be other factors—factors that suppressed those traits until puberty.”

  “But I’m well into puberty,” Tenna frowned. “So why the change now?”

  Karah shook her head. “I’m referring to elven puberty, which happens much later. Most elves aren’t fully mature until well into their forties.”

  “Then what could it be?” Tenna asked.

  “Though it’s rare, I’ve seen this kind of thing before in the descendants of elf-dwarf pairings.”

  “So, first you said one of my parents could have been an elf, and now you’re saying the other one was a dwarf?”

  “No, child,” Karah chided. “I’m saying it’s possible there’s a dwarf or two in your ancestry. Dwarven blood seems to delay the manifestation of elven traits, even across the generations. It can be persistent. If my suspicions are true, you can expect to undergo more changes as times goes on.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about changing into an elf.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Karah said with a smirk.

  “Oh, sorry,” Tenna blushed. “It’s just…I’ve always though of myself as human.”

  “Child, you should worry less about what you are and be more concerned with who you choose to be. You are Tenna, regardless of what you may look like on the outside. Regardless of the traits and skills your body comes to exhibit. Your heritage does not decide who you become.”

  Tenna nodded and sat thinking for a while. Karah went back to brushing her hair, but kept her eyes on the girl in the mirror.

  “I suppose I should make the best of it,” Tenna smiled. “Can you tell me what to expect, apart from the eyes and ears?”

  “Well, the changes to your eyes and ears are not insignificant,” Karah said. “All of your senses will sharpen. You should begin to notice real benefits from practicing kathedo, and eventually learn to enter the full trance. As for what else to expect, I suspect you’ve already experienced some of those changes.”

  Tenna’s brow furrowed in thought. “Like when I sparred with Quist?”

  “Yes,” Karah said. “No human, no matter how gifted, could have achieved that kind of speed and agility. Those are distinguishing marks of elven kind, but not the most coveted.”

  “Long life,” Tenna whispered.

  “Yes. The blessing and curse of my people.”

  “But…how is long life a curse?” Tenna asked.

  Karah put down her brush and turned
to the girl. “Ask me in two or three hundred years when you’ve outlived everyone you know but for your fellow elves. Your father will pass on, as will Tander, Y’neth, then even Duras. All of them will meet their ends long before you’ve scarcely begun to live out yours days. Most elves who go through the loss of their short-lived friends withdraw into seclusion with other elves for a century or two until they learn to accept short term love and friendship. Some never learn. That’s why many humans think my people aloof. “

  “I…I never thought about that before,” Tenna said.

  “And neither should you fret over it now, not until you come face to face with it yourself. Give your cares to Onúl and know those who live in his light are gathered into His arms when their lives here have passed.”

  A solemn silence fell between them until a thought popped into Tenna’s head. “I wonder what dwarven traits I’ll show?”

  “None, I should think,” Karah said.

  “None?”

  “The most common dwarf traits are related to their short stature—strength, durability, endurance. You’re already taller than most humans your age and you’re still growing. It’s possible you could develop a measure of dwarven night-sight I suppose. Dwarves can see in the dark much better than elves or humans.”

  “That might be handy,” Tenna smiled.

  “Now,” Karah picked up her brush again and looked at it, “what I haven’t told you about are the hair changes.”

  “Hair changes?” Tenna’s eyes went wide.

  Karah laughed. “Humans rarely see it because it happens during those years when elves most often withdraw from contact with outsiders. In the middle centuries of your first thousand years your hair will change color—frequently. Mine was as green as the jungle trees for nearly a century, then it turned dark purple.”

  Tenna reached up to stroke her dark mane. “It did?”

  “If you look closely,” Karah said, “you’ll see all manner of highlights in my hair. Our hair color eventually settles down to something close to its original color. My tresses still have strands of dark green. Quist has some bits of dark green among his violet hair as well.”

  “What about Katalas?” Tenna asked.

  “Katalas is young, not yet into his fourth century. I suspect he’ll be a blue. It tends to run on his father’s side of the family.”

  Tenna broke into a laugh at the thought of the stoic ranger parading around with blue hair.

  Her laughter vanished as the weight of her conscience bore down on her.

  “I owe Tander an apology,” Tenna said. “I was horrible to him.”

  “Yes, child,” Karah said. “you were, though it was not completely undeserved. He’s finally free of Tawn’s influence, so we’ll let Quist deal with her now.”

  72

  The Southern Ocean

  Tander avoided Tenna for several days, an almost impossible feat in the confines of a sailing ship. When she entered a room he would exit, even to the point of leaving his meals unfinished. He avoided the daily sparring sessions, leaving Tenna to train alone. More than once she tried to corner him on the forecastle, but he would walk away without acknowledging her presence.

  She decided to take some radical advice from Y’neth and cornered him one morning as he made his way out of the privy. Shocked at her brazenness, he forgot he wasn’t speaking to her anymore. Unable to walk away, he was forced to listen as Tenna blurted out an impassioned and tear-filled apology. Before he knew what was happening he had accepted her apology and grabbed her into a fierce hug, tears running down their cheeks as they embraced.

  They spent the morning hours talking, and then onward through lunchtime until Katalas called them up to spar. Tander fought hard but ended the afternoon thoroughly trounced by Tenna, both of them laughing with delight at her newfound speed and agility.

  It was as if the world didn’t exist during the evening meal, they only had attentions for one another. Neither of them noticed Tawn staring at them, her eyes narrowed in malice as she watched another conquest slip though her fingers.

  Her mood was already foul because she’d been unable to find Quist. It was as if he’d left the ship. When she leaned over to caress Zalas’s arm and whisper in his ear, he snatched the arm away as if burned. He turned and stared at her in perplexed irritation, looking scared and offended at the same time.

  The ship continued its westward push and the coast drifted by, appearing idyllic and peaceful though it was anything but. Sometimes a plume of smoke from a burning village would mar the sky. They witnessed vultures circling one cliffside hamlet, its refugees fleeing east along the escarpment. Tander stopped sending Kel to hunt because of the images of carnage the bird sent back. The boy was thankful the raptor seemed content with scraps of dried meat and shorter flights nearer the ship.

  The signs of battle disappeared as they slid west of the ruins of Hocsaros. Tander sent Kel out again to discover the land was wide open and nearly uninhabited. Rumor said Eldinn had conscripted every able-bodied adult in the land into his army, man and woman alike. Those too young or infirm to fight were left to fend for themselves, provided they hadn’t been taken hostage to prevent desertions.

  If Eldinn won his war, there might be little of his empire left to rule over.

  They ran afoul of a picket of imperial navy near Sha’ar and were forced to turn south. Three of the dreadnoughts turned to follow and gave chase for the better part of a day, but the Sunset’s Trace was faster and eventually left them on the horizon.

  Stile treated everyone to additional rations of food that night and cracked open a fresh cask of ale. Some of the crew brought out some weathered but venerable instruments, turning the main deck into a dance floor.

  One sailor held up a beat up lute and Tander’s fingers began working back and forth in longing. He’d been forced to leave his own lute behind on Nesos, fearing it would be destroyed on their journey. Tenna cajoled the man into letting Tander borrow the instrument for the evening, causing Tander to snatch it out of the sailor’s hand. He gave Tenna an impulsive kiss on the cheek then dashed to his cabin to perform a few makeshift repairs and tune it up.

  By the time he came back on deck the players had taken up an old sea shanty. Tander sat down and picked up the melody with ease, soon adding his own improvised counterpoint.

  Their music echoed to the heavens as the ship wafted beneath the stars. Voices and ale flowed long into the night, accented by the tapping of dancing feet. So light and festive was the spirit that the company all but forgot the trials of the past few weeks.

  The storm came two days later.

  It took many in the crew a day to recover from the late night party, but eventually both they and their passengers settled back into the daily routine, biding their time until they made a safe port. The only person out of sorts was Tawn. She prowled the ship searching for Quist who somehow managed to keep avoiding her.

  Tander and Tenna were sitting together in the forecastle the next day when the first signs of the coming maelstrom were discovered. Kel was out flying and Tander watched the world through the bird’s eyes, discovering massive thunderheads developing to stern.

  His eyes fluttered open. “I think I need to talk to the captain,” his voice had and anxious edge. “Looks like there’s a big storm coming.”

  Tander stood but didn’t move to leave the forecastle. He stared out at the horizon, his eyes twitching as Kel blinked in and out of the material realm on his way back to the ship. Tenna smiled at the control he’d gained over the bond with the bird.

  Tander pulled Kel’s gauntlet free of his belt and sheathed his arm as the raptor popped into being overhead. Kel let out a screech as he circled the ship, gliding in to settle on Tander’s arm. Once Kel was down Tander was in motion toward the quarterdeck and Tenna rose to follow.

  They found the captain behind the wheel talking to Doulos. Quist was close at hand, keeping an eye on Tawn who paced the upper deck like a caged cat. Tenna scowled and tried to ignore
the woman.

  Stile read the worry on the boys face. “Problem?”

  Tander nodded. “Kel saw a storm blowing up behind us. Looks like a big one, big enough to scare him.”

  They turned as one to look east and try to make out the clouds. Quist jumped up into the rigging and shimmied up to the crow’s nest. Tawn watched him closely as he climbed.

  “Hmm,” Stile said, “these southern storms will spin up until the start of winter. At least it’s not likely to be a big blow at this latitude.”

  “Big blow?”

  “A hurricane.” Stile turned to try and catch a glimpse in the fading sunlight. “Do you know how far away it was?”

  “It’s hard to say,” Tander said. “Kel was several miles from the ship. It took him several blinks to get back. And he can see for miles too.”

  “Did you get a good look at the storm yourself?” Stile asked. “Did the clouds seem higher than usual?”

  “I’m sorry, I really don’t know,” Tander frowned as he tried to picture the clouds in his mind again. “Everything looks different through Kel’s eyes, especially so high up. The clouds look huge to me.”

  “Shards,” Stile swore, “sounds like it could be a hurricane. The only thing we can do is try to make landfall before it finds us.”

  Doulos, who had stood listening with a frown, suddenly asked, “What color was the storm?”

  “Color?”

  “Yes, boy, color. Your bird can see in color can’t it?”

  “Um…” Tander stammered. “I think it was a little green.”

  The wizard turned to face the stern, closing his eyes and taking long, slow breaths. “Green? Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Tander said. “The sunset back there seemed to have a greenish cast.”

  The wizard drew Ehrler and pointed it toward the stern. The move made Tawn gasp in surprise and she stepped back as if she were afraid the wizard might take a swing at her. Doulos only closed his eyes and stood in silence, taking in large breaths as if smelling the air.