by Mike Grinti
More invaders swarmed over the beach. How many were there? One hundred? Two hundred? If he could find the large, unwieldy ships these monsters used, he might have some idea of their numbers. They sailed along the coast a short distance, and Azi had his answer. The burned wreckage of a large, lumbering invader ship smoldered on the sand. He could see several more farther down the beach. He thought he saw grayships among the wreckage.
“The Gana must have burned the invaders’ ships when they set their grayships on fire,” he said. At least the Gana had managed to do that, though it would cost them greatly.
“We’ll be safe until the other ships arrive,” someone said. Azi looked up to see a thin, gray-haired woman, her face and shoulders crisscrossed with scars, standing by him. Her expression was grim. “I’m Captain Darri. Paka didn’t make it back.”
“He saved my life,” Azi said. He fell silent for a moment, but there wasn’t time to honor dead heroes now. “How many birds do we have left, Captain?”
Darri shook her head. “Just one. The other we sent already, and the rest were on the Shark’s Fin.”
Azi rubbed his eyes, then forced himself to look up again. “All right. I’ll send it to the Bardo and tell Lord Mosi to send his fleet, too. I think we’re going to need the help.”
A murmur spread through the crew. The Kayet were the strongest of the Five-and-One Islands. They weren’t used to asking for help. “Might be right, my king,” Darri said. “You think he’ll come?”
“I did marry his daughter,” Azi said, trying to smile. They were all staring at him, waiting for him to say something. He fingered his sword nervously. He’d have felt more comfortable with his own notched blade. The one he held now was bright and sharp, well taken care of but rarely used. The pommel had been decorated with small white and blue shells to create the shape of a fish.
It was the sword his father had given Jin for his fourteenth birthday. A sword meant for a king.
Azi stood and drew in a deep breath. “It’ll be safe here, you’re right. But those are villages they’re burning. They’ll work their way down the island. Maybe we’re no good head on, but we can be fast and quiet. We’ll hit them at night. We’ll hit them when they’re alone. We’ll hit them hard, hurt them, then disappear again. We’ll make them bleed for every man and woman who died on this beach, and when the rest of the fleet arrives, we’ll make them all dead.”
“As you say, my king,” Captain Darri said. “Everyone hear that? Steer it around the west side, and the rest of you get any sleep you can. We land again at midnight.”
Jala stared at the book, flipping the pages gently. She understood the stories were sacred to the invaders. But they didn’t feel sacred. Why these stories? Why this book? Couldn’t they just remember the stories that were so important to them? Couldn’t they make another book?
The bird on Jala’s windowsill fluttered his bright orange-and-green wings and started to peck at one of his feathers. “Speak,” Jala told it.
The bird captured just enough of Marjani’s intonation.
Dear Jala,
I suppose you’ll want me to call you my queen now. I think I won’t. You need me to keep you humble. Don’t worry, I’ll be good when anyone else is around. Probably.
We got news of the invasion a few hours ago. Everyone’s acting like the fire mountain just birthed another island, but we didn’t see or hear anything. Everything’s the same. Well, I say that, but of course it’s not really. You’re not here. It’s like . . . all the color’s drained out of everything. The sunlight doesn’t seem so bright, the stars in the sky are dull, the birds sing, but it’s like I’m hearing them from under a pile of sand.
Ugh, listen to me, I sound like some lovesick little girl. I am, I guess. Lovesick. A little. Maybe this’ll be good for me. It’s not like I hadn’t tried to stop thinking of you before, but how could I when hardly a day went by that we didn’t see each other?
I was being dramatic before. The birds are still way too loud, for one thing. And not everything’s lost its shine. I made a new friend. Her name’s Nara. Not that I’m trying to replace you. But I can’t not talk to anyone, right? You’ve probably made all sorts of friends on the First Isle.
Anyway. Nara. She’s Gana, but her sister married a Bardo sailor and she was visiting while the husband was off raiding. She’s nice. Very pretty, too, not that there’s time for anything to happen. She’s going home as soon as all this storm of invasion talk passes by. But I can dream, right? I’m good at dreaming.
Your mother still wants to make a match for me with one of the noble families. Some third or fourth cousin who doesn’t need to have children. Or a widow who’s already had children, I suppose. It doesn’t matter. I’m not a noble, so she can’t make me marry anyone, no matter how much she tries to bully me into it. And I’m going to keep ignoring my mother’s mournful hints about grandchildren, too.
I’ve talked too long. The bird will probably forget half of the message by the time it gets to you. If it’s remembered everything so far. . . . I miss you. I wish you were here, no matter what I said before. You promised me a bird every day, and you’re way behind already. Queens are supposed to keep their promises, you know.
The bird stopped speaking. Jala poured some water into a small bowl, and it drank greedily. When Marjani had sent the bird she still hadn’t heard the latest news. Six days had passed since Azi had taken what was left of the fleet and sailed for the Fifth Isle. Six days, and there’d been no word. At least, no word that had gotten through to Jala. If Lord Inas knew anything, he wasn’t telling her.
Jala tapped the bird on its beak. “Listen,” she ordered, then she sat there not knowing what to say. “Thanks for sending the bird. I needed to hear a friendly voice. I should have sent a bird myself, but. . . . You’ve probably heard the news by now. The Fifth Isle, the Gana. I hope your new friend’s family is safe.
Maybe by the time you get this we’ll know what’s going on. Dry hells, you’re closer to them than we are, so you might have heard already. It’ll turn out there was a sudden storm and they were blown off course, or they’re too busy drinking Gana wine to send news.
I know, my excuses sound ridiculous even to me. I keep telling myself that I’ll hear something soon, but then I’m afraid of what that will be. I wish Azi were here instead of out there. I know why he had to go, but that makes waiting for him that much worse. Why is it the queen who always waits on the king? I hate waiting. I hate not knowing.
We hardly even had a chance to be married before this happened. And no, we haven’t had sex yet. We’ve hardly even kissed. I thought it was the argument we had after we arrived. I’m sure that was part of it, but he was distant on the way here, too.
I wish I had something to laugh about. I wish you were here with me. Tell my mother I want you to come and visit. Tell her there are lots of nice Kayet girls for you to meet. She’ll probably tell you there’s no such thing as a nice Kayet, but some of them are. At least to my face.
I’m serious. You have to come and visit. After this storm has passed, like you said.
After we know that everything will be all right again.
Jala sat quietly for a while, but there seemed to be nothing else to say. She waved the bird away. “Go, to Marjani of the Bardo on the Second Isle.”
With a resentful squawk the bird flew off, and Jala was alone again. A knock came at her door. “My queen?” Iliana said.
“Come in,” Jala said. “Is it time already? How do I look?”
“You look worried, my queen. But so does everyone else. The dress does suit you.” She craned her neck to look at the book still lying open on Jala’s bed. “Is that it? The book the sorcerer told us about?”
Jala nodded. “I keep thinking about it. I know it’s crazy, but maybe if we can find some way to return it they’ll leave us alone.”
“But we took it,” Iliana said. “If we can take it, then it should be ours. That’s the oldest story in the world, told even before
there were words to tell it with. Besides, the Nongo won’t like it, and neither will any of the other families. It was a gift to you on your wedding.”
“I know all that,” Jala said. “Never mind for now.” She shut the book with a thump. “Might as well get this over with. Lead the way.” She followed the maid out of her room and through the Kayet manor. “How’s Lord Sourbelly today?”
Iliana coughed. “He’s sober, and I don’t think he’s happy about it. He’s angry with you, but that’s nothing new.”
“Wonderful.” Jala sighed. They’d reached the side door into the main hall, the one meant for the king and queen to use. It was open, and she could see that Lord Inas was already inside, sitting on a stool beside the two wooden thrones. She rubbed her face, trying to wipe away the worry and frustration. Then she walked inside and took her seat.
Only then did she let her eyes focus on all the Kayet nobles and captains who were seated on either side of the hall and the first few petitioners who had been allowed into the hall. Normally most of the nobles wouldn’t have bothered showing up unless they needed something, but everyone was curious to see their new queen in action. Especially after the Sectioning, and with Azi gone, Jala thought. Only Lord Inas kept his gaze straight ahead.
The teller-of-lists stood. He spoke loudly and clearly. “Our king is gone. Who has the wisdom to preside over this day’s procession? Who has the right to judge the people of the First Isle?”
“As your queen, I claim the right,” Jala said, trying to make her voice equally commanding. “I speak with his wisdom and dole out his justice. I am your queen.”
The man nodded. “We will hear you.”
“Then call the first petitioner,” Jala said, and sat down to wait.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Lord Inas said quietly. “You might not be married for long.”
“How can you say that about Azi?” Jala whispered back. “Don’t you care about him at all? Or is it that you don’t want him to come back? Maybe you’d rather see me gone than have your nephew home again.”
Lord Inas looked like he was about to respond, loudly, when the teller-of-lists cleared his throat. They both turned to look back at the main hall. A young couple, both near Jala’s age, stood nervously before her. “Presenting Bayo and Alita, from the village of Morntide. They’re to be married today and have come to ask for the king’s blessing.”
Jala made herself smile at them. “You have it, of course. Please let me give each of you a gift. Tell me your heart’s desire.”
The girl stepped forward. “My heart’s desire is to marry Bayo. But if I could have any other thing, it would be a new sword so that I can provide for our family and our future children.”
“You’ll have it,” Jala said. A new sword was the expected request for a sailor about to be married.
The boy stepped forward. It took him a moment before he could speak. “My heart’s desire is to marry Alita. But if I could have any other thing it would be a ruby earring, so that I can look good for my wife on our wedding day.”
“You’ll have it,” Jala said, nodding with approval. It was another practical gift; most likely he’d sell the earring to a trader once they were married, and that was expected, too.
Smiling at each other, the couple was escorted out. Jala watched them go and thought of Azi’s face when she’d asked for Two Bones as her wedding gift. This couple had asked for practical gifts, but their intent was very different. Where she’d thought of family duty, they thought only of each other. It was no surprise Azi had been so disappointed.
As they waited for the next group to be brought forward, Lord Inas spoke, though he didn’t bother turning around. “You have no idea what you’re saying. No idea how much I’ve sacrificed for him and for Jin. I have two sons of my own. Two sons I never had time to teach because I was busy showing my brother’s sons how to be men. My brother never taught Azi how to be a king. No, when Jin died he simply gave up and died as well. I taught Azi, I helped him, and in the end he spat in my face. I don’t wish him dead. But wishing never stopped people from dying. We’ll hear soon enough.”
Jala had no reply, and there was no time anyway. A group of seven boys and three girls had been brought forward, all of them no more than twelve and all of them beaming with pride.
“Here are boys and girls from the villages of Morntide and Little Waves who have come of age since the last storm season.”
Jala made a show of looking them over. “They seem strong and willing. Are there any captains who will take them on to train as sailors and soldiers?”
A few of the captains stood, asked some questions, then made their choices. They were all expected to return the next morning to begin their training. But for now, each was allowed to take as much food from the manor’s stores as they could carry. Their families had probably had them lifting rocks to build up their arms for months now.
When she was finished with the new recruits, Jala lowered her voice again and spoke to Lord Inas. “I’m sorry about your sons. And I’m sorry about your brother and Jin. But you can’t rule for Azi, and you shouldn’t want to. He needs to be a strong king on his own, now especially.”
Lord Inas snorted. “I don’t need your pity or your condolences. He was my brother. I did what I had to do.”
His words hurt. They shouldn’t have, but they did anyway. “If you’re so devoted to your duty, then you know why I did what I had to at the Sectioning.”
“Of course I do,” he said, almost sympathetic. “That’s why you can never be trusted. You’re your father’s daughter.”
More people were waiting for her. An argument over broken pottery that involved a village elder, another marriage, a ship’s captain accused of cutting shares. She dealt with them all, and more were let in to line up at the end of the hall. All the while, she tried to keep from worrying about Azi and what was happening on the Fifth Isle. Everything’s the same, she thought, thinking back to Marjani’s message. Almost like nothing had happened. Almost.
Lord Inas, who was supposedly there to give her advice, added nothing. Only after the cheating captain had gone did he speak again. “He doesn’t love you. He can’t love you, not truly. Where do you think he was the night the mainlanders came? In the village, meeting with the girl he’d found before he was king. She’s just a village girl, of course, not someone he can marry. But he can be with her. Every night, if he chooses to. The whole island will know, and the storytellers of the other families will tell stories of their forbidden love and the cold, ruthless queen he stays with only out of duty.”
“Shut up,” Jala hissed. “You’re lying.”
Lord Inas glanced back at her, and his mouth twitched up into a nasty smile. “Her name is Kona. A pretty name, don’t you think?”
Jala stared, unable to speak. He’s lying. It has to be a lie. He wants to see you break down in front of all the Kayet, he wants you to go searching for this girl who probably doesn’t exist.
He wants to ruin you. He wants you to ruin everything with Azi.
Unless he was telling the truth. Unless there was nothing to ruin, because Azi did not, would not ever love her. I never asked for love, she told herself. But she wanted it now.
Damn you. Damn you to every one of the dry hells. I’m the queen. I’ll find some way to hurt you. Some way that Azi never has to know about. She made the vow, but it didn’t feel real. Nothing felt real except the tears she couldn’t cry.
Not now. Not yet. Not until she was alone. She wouldn’t let him see her cry.
Azi sat high in one of the island’s trees, covered in leaves. Nine other men and women were hidden in the trees around him.
Nearby a bird cooed loudly. That’s the signal. They’re coming. Azi’s muscles tensed, his right hand holding a vine that had been tied to the tree, his left hand gripping his sword. The arm still ached, but the mournroot had dulled it enough for him to hunt. The first few mainlanders appeared beneath them, jogging recklessly through the forest, heading
toward the fire some of the Gana had set to lure them out.
There were too many warriors for ten of his people to take on, of course. There were always too many. But they were hunting, not fighting, for now.
The spotter cooed again, signaling that no more were coming. Azi counted to five under his breath. Stones fell from the trees opposite Azi. Some of the invaders stopped, clutching their skulls and looking around in confusion as their friends pressed on ahead.
Now. Azi kicked off from the tree and slid down the vine. As soon as he hit the ground he tossed his sword to his right hand and slashed at the nearest mainlander just as the man began to turn around. In only a moment, seven invaders lay dead at their feet.
Someone shouted in a foreign tongue. Men were turning back. Azi grabbed a sword off his victim, then turned and ran. The other Kayet did the same, each running in a different direction.
More screams tore the air as some of the invaders who tried to give chase were cut down.
If your enemy is afraid, the battle is already won, the saying went. But these men seemed to know no fear. For two days Azi and his crews had crept about the island, hunting individuals and smaller bands, laying traps and ambushes. The invaders’ bloodthirst made them reckless and easy to catch unawares, but it also made them deadly.
A bird squawked nearby. Two cries, one long, one short. It wasn’t even a very good imitation, but these mainlanders didn’t know what island birds sounded like. Come see, not in danger, the signal meant. Azi followed the sound.
One of the other sailors found him first. “My king, there are survivors,” she said.
He followed her to a cluster of trees almost swallowed in vines, and there, hidden among them, were several Gana villagers. They were crawling out with the help of the Kayet sailors, soaked through and mud-spattered. Four women, three men.