Sea Queen

by Michael James Ploof

  The Windwalker Archive

  Book 2

  Sea Queen

  Michael James Ploof

  Books

  By

  Michael James Ploof

  Whill of Agora

  The Windwalker Archive

  The Orion Rezner Chronicles

  Coming 2015

  The Sock Gnome Chronicles

  Copyright © 2014 Michael James Ploof

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1501079771

  ISBN-10: 1501079778

  Chapter 1

  Where the World Begins

  I ride with elf to his homeland, mine we leave behind. Old heart leaps to dream of wonders awaiting. What magics I seen done by moss-haired one leave me giddy as sixteen-spring lass. I sense Talon move farther from us, but I take heart in my dreams. He has defied gods, foiled the Chiefson. Spirit wolf walks with him. I take heart in my dreams.

  -Gretzen Spiritbone, 4997

  The Strait of Shierdon, Sumar, 4997

  Talon sailed toward Shierdon and his heart leapt even as it broke. The sensation was strange, something he had never felt—freedom. He stood upon the threshold of discovery, the world laid out before him. The ocean would bring him anywhere. The rations Azzeal and Amma Gretzen had given him would last him weeks. For the first time in his life he was the master of his destiny. The island of Volnoss—his prison since birth—had faded into memory on the northern horizon as he sailed away into the night. Here, in between worlds, where dreams began and nightmares ended, he felt the magnitude of the world. And he was humbled.

  To his right a group of long-nosed whales arced up to blow their air holes before disappearing once more into the eternal waters. Whenever they regarded him and his raft, their eyes reminded him much of the elf Azzeal. They were patient, understanding, and seemed to peer right through to his soul. Held in the gaze of the colossal beasts, he sensed a kinship of spirit that left him shaking. They existed as kindred travelers upon the currents of time, fighting for their place in the world.

  As he sat watching the whales, lost in his introspection, he failed to notice the ship until it came startlingly close. He searched the raft and open seas, but the vast blue waters offered no hiding place. His big white sail stuck out in the moonlight like a star against the deep dark heavens. Talon turned back to the whales but found them gone, and envied the sea creatures and the ease with which they’d disappeared. He feared the ship would be a Vald Whaler—the Skomm slaves of Volnoss did the majority of fishing, but the Vald enjoyed the challenge of killing whales, and blubber had ever been one of the staples of the Volnoss barbarians.

  Talon fondled the figurine that housed Chief’s spirit. He had dismissed the spirit wolf shortly after setting out, because he’d acted so uncomfortable on the raft, but was considering summoning him back as he watched the ship. Returning to Volnoss was not an option—he would fight to the death if need be. He still had the small hammer, hatchet, and knife he’d used to build the raft, as well as Kyrr, Azzeal’s ring.

  As the ship approached from the west, he untied Kyrr from Akkeri’s red ribbon and slid it onto his finger. The weight of Azzeal’s gift gave him courage, and he faced the ship unafraid. The vessel drew closer but did not veer in his direction. Talon sighed relief when it passed a few hundred yards away and sailed on. It wasn’t a barbarian whaler, after all, but a big three-mast ship like the ones traders came on.

  Talon turned his attention back to the south and sat behind the mast once again. He untied the rudder’s securing line and steered himself toward Shierdon, with only the moon to keep him company. By noon the next day, the coast came into view and his spirits soared. He wished more than ever that Jahsin and Akkeri stood with him. They had spent so many nights imagining this moment.

  “We did it, Jah,” he said, to the glass jar containing his friend’s ashes.

  He drew closer to the coast and surveyed the shore—rocky and steep, with violent waves sending plumes of sea spray high into the air. He considered sailing east to look for a place to put in but decided to go west instead. The Eye of Thodin had moved west from Volnoss, and likely Akkeri would have made landfall in that direction.

  He took care not to be dragged in by the surf, and steered his raft west for a half an hour before finding a calm patch of beach to land on. He veered toward it and nearly burst with anticipation. The raft hit the surf and lurched, sending ocean spray up and over to crash down on him. All the while Talon laughed with glee. The waves came from behind, swiftly carried him in, and set him down on the golden sand. He leapt from the raft and gave a triumphant cry.

  He held the timber wolf trinket out before him. “Come, Chief, you’ve got to see this!”

  Blue mist swirled out, and wrapped around him twice before solidifying. Chief danced in circles on the beach and went to sniffing around. The ocean waves crashed to shore once more and the wolf jumped, startled, and made his way higher up on the dunes.

  Talon wasted no time in collecting his pack and Jahsin’s ashes. He pulled the raft up on the beach and let down the sail. He didn’t want to leave evidence for barbarian search parties to find.

  “Come here, Chief. Help me get this raft out of sight.”

  Talon secured two lines and they pulled the heavy raft off the beach. It was hard work and took the two of them a good ten minutes, but they eventually got it over the high dunes and out of sight from the ocean. He took a long pull from his water skin and surveyed the land around them. Tall brown blades of grass covered the rolling dunes to the south and eventually led to more dense foliage. A sparse tree line gave way to a thicker forest. Some of the plants he recognized, yet most he did not.

  They sat on a large stone near the water’s edge as Talon ate from his rations, marveling at the foreign landscape. The sky was mostly clear, with only faint puffs of scattered clouds lingering lazily. He stared north toward Volnoss as he ate, and thanked his stars he was far from the hated Vald.

  Though it was only afternoon, he decided to make camp for the night. Having not slept since before setting out, he thought it wiser to start out again at dawn, fully rested.

  Talon uncorked the jar of Jahsin’s ashes and waded out into the ocean until the water reached his knees. The waves lulled into the coast, raising as high as his waist, before receding back and pulling the sand beneath his feet with them.

  He raised the jar to the sky and spoke to his friend. “I’m sorry Jahsin, I should have killed Fylkin when I had the chance. If I had, you would still be alive, and the three of us would be together now. I know I can never make it up to you, but I will try. I’ll return to Volnoss one day and free the Skomm, as was your dream.”

  Talon’s voice broke and he took a moment to collect himself, cursing his weakness for the thousandth time. He wiped angrily at his tears and poured half of the ashes into the ocean before returning up the dunes, where Chief stood waiting.

  “Goodbye, Jah, I’ll never forget you.” He spread the remainder of the ashes in the wind, which carried them inland toward the forest. Chief perked up to watch as they disappeared.

  Talon slumped down on the sand and wept, unable to curse away his emotions. Now that he was finally away from Volnoss, and the pressure of having to escape was gone, the pain of his losses set in. Chief lay down next to him and whimpered for his master. Talon smiled through his tears, grateful to at least have his oldest friend with him.

  That night he sat on the dunes, watching the sun set beyond the curve of the coast. Twilight came and went, and soon darkness covered the world. The moon crested the horizon over the ocean and lit the water like a silver sunrise. Talon stretched out his bedroll on the raft and slept beneath the stars with Chief at his side.

  It was his first night in Shierdon, his firs
t night as a free man.

  Chapter 2

  Stranger in a strange land

  The boy is out of my realm of Sight, I feel him no more. Gretzen has troubled sleep, she speaks of his trials and tribulations. She speaks of a band of misfits, and she worries for her grandson. As we travel to Elladrindellia I can only offer my prayers, and trust that the gods will smile down on the boy, as I believe they always have.

  -Azzeal of Elladrindellia, Keeper of the Windwalker Archive, 4997

  Talon woke to Chief licking his face and shoved him off with a playful laugh. The sun had only just risen, and the birds in the forest were a chorus of morning greeting. Talon shared their sentiment—having landed in Agora as a free man, it was indeed a day for song.

  He rummaged through his pack until he found the best rations. He had spied his favorite treat whilst his amma packed the bag in Azzeal’s cave—an apple covered in a cluster of nuts, seeds, and berries, and smothered in honey. He bit into the decadent treat like a ravenous beast and tried to chew, despite his wide grin.

  “You hungry, boy?”

  Chief gave no indication that he was. Rather, he sat on his haunches and itched behind his ear.

  “I guess you don’t have to eat, not being alive and all. But…why do you scratch?”

  No answer was forthcoming from the spirit wolf.

  Talon ate half of the cluster and stowed away the rest in his pack. He poured some water into his hands, washed off his face, and prepared to begin his search for Akkeri. After dismantling the sail he laid it under the raft. He had no intention to ever return to it, but didn’t want anyone to find it either. With a striking stone and dried moss from his fire pouch, he started up some of the nearby grass and deadwood branches scattered about. Once a small fire was going, he laid it under the sail until it caught. The fire grew quickly, and soon he was backing away from the pyre.

  He watched the fire blaze for a time and finally turned away, setting his sights on the western expanse of coastline. He would scour the continent if need be. No matter the distance or time, he would find her.

  “Alright, Chief,” he said, slinging his pack over his shoulder. “Let’s find Akkeri!”

  Chief barked and spun a circle.

  “I think the Eye of Thodin would have put her down somewhere out west along the coast. But just to be sure, I want you to search the east for a few miles and see if you can find any sign of her. You understand, boy?”

  Chief barked once more and looked to the east and back again.

  “Good, boy, now go on. I’ll be down along the western coast. You’ll find me.”

  Another eager bark told Talon that Chief understood. The spirit wolf spun another circle and sped off across the sand. As much as Talon wanted Chief at his side, he wanted even more to be sure that he hadn’t missed any sign of Akkeri. When he closed his eyes he saw Chiefson Fylkin holding the tattered sail in front of him. Fylkin had said they found it washed up on shore, but Talon didn’t believe it. He knew that Akkeri had made it somehow. The storm would have tossed her around, but she was as tough as they came. She was out there somewhere—lost, scared, alone.

  What if she tried to return to Volnoss for him? Talon didn’t want to imagine what Fylkin might do to her if she did.

  I would if I were her, he thought.

  Ignoring his inner voice, he started off and began scouring the coast. He remembered clearly the keipr she’d escaped on. He and Jahsin had named it Kvenna, after Talon’s mother, and he thought of her as he walked. He had no memory of his mother, but he had often imagined what she might have been like. Amma Gretzen spoke of her when Talon asked, and he asked often. Gretzen said that her daughter was a fiery-spirited women with a strong heart and a strong back. During their courtship ritual, she had broken Kreal’s nose in two places before he was able to subdue her. His amma said that he had inherited his mother’s inner fire, but he had always dismissed her ramblings for those of a crazy woman. However, since seeing her wield such amazing magic in the creation of Chief’s trinket, he had begun to study her words in a new light.

  Talon remembered the barbarian lullaby that Gretzen so often sang to him, as she had his mother. He searched for his lost love along the foreign coast and began to hum, and then sing, the old song:

  Hear not the words of fear and fright

  Rest my child this winter night

  For we are the wolf who howls to the moon

  We are the claw, we are the bite

  See not the eyes of fear and fright

  Rest my child on this winter night

  For we are the eyes beyond the trees

  We are the tooth, we are the fright

  Rest my child this winter night

  Rest my child this winter night

  Hear not the words of fear and fright

  Rest my child this winter night

  Talon sang the song over and over and smiled to himself as he thought of his amma Gretzen. Now that he was so far from her, he felt a pang of sorrow that he hadn’t cherished her more in his youth. She was moody, sullen, quiet, and strange, but she had always been good to him. She never said a word against, or lifted a hand to him. Her punishment came in the form of work and study rather than fear and pain.

  He walked for hours along the coast but found nothing. The beach he landed on had been a lucky find, for as he went, the coast became rocky and sheer once more. Soon he was peering over hundred-foot cliffs.

  He came across many camps, spread out every two miles or so along the coast line. The discovery made him happy that he’d decided against a fire the night before. All of the camps were similar, with two large tents set at an angle from one another, and a large pile of wood. Many people burned small fires as they went about tending to their camp or skinning the prize of their latest hunt. He wondered what they might be doing out here along the rocky, deserted coast. There was a road out a few hundred feet from the ocean, but he had yet to see anyone on it. Though it hindered his search to do so, he kept his distance from them—he didn’t want to be slowed down by having to explain himself.

  Talon realized that he hadn’t even formulated a story. He couldn’t very likely tell them the truth if he was asked. He could just imagine that conversation:

  “Hi, I’m Talon Windwalker. I’m a runaway Skomm from the island of Volnoss.”

  No, that would never do. He needed something else. However, he soon realized that, since he knew little about Shierdon’s towns and such, he wouldn’t be able to convince anyone that he was from there. And then there was the problem of his dark skin. All the people of Shierdon he had ever heard of were mostly fair skinned and light haired. His high cheekbones, and dark hair and eyes, would announce his nationality quite plainly. He hoped that a good lie would come to him. In the meantime, he trusted that Chief would be of help if they were discovered—Chief and Azzeal’s ring.

  When he got close enough to one of the camps to smell what was on the cook fire, his mouth watered and his stomach painfully reminded him that he had not eaten since sun up. He decided to take lunch in the forest, far away from the men and their delicious cook-fire smoke.

  After he found a hollow of thick spruce trees, Talon gnawed on salted meat and mild goat cheese. He washed the meal down with a long pull from the water skin, and gave a contented sigh as he patted his belly. It wasn’t hot food, but it was something, and something was better than nothing.

  He began to return to his search when Chief appeared out of thin air, startling him.

  “Feikinstafir, Chief! You’re too good at that. Did you find anything?”

  The wolf gave a small whine.

  “Well, it didn’t hurt to look. Come on, we’ll keep checking west. Just be sure to keep out of sight.”

  Chief led the way from the clearing, and together he and Talon continued to scour the coast. They passed two more camps in their search, but still found no sign of Akkeri’s keipr. By nightfall they came to a small coastal town. Strange buildings dotted the hills and valleys surround
ing the docks and town proper. A few of them were two and three stories, but the majority were only one. Fishing boats littered the harbor, and a single three-mast vessel was anchored further off shore.

  Talon marveled at the foreign town. What wealth must there be in a place like this? There were no mud huts, like those that littered the Skomm village, and every building was as grand as Vaka Kastali—the wooden lodge used as the Vaka headquarters. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up in this kind of place. Unlike the sparsely lit village in which he had been raised, this one had lanterns hung from poles on every street, and a warm golden glow came from many windows.

  “You think maybe she’s down there somewhere?” he asked Chief.

  The spirit wolf danced a circle and gave a small bark.

  “You think I should go check?”

  Chief nipped at Talon’s trousers, as if to drag him to town.

  “Sorry, boy, you can’t come with me. If the townspeople see a wolf, it’ll cause all kinds of trouble.”

  Chief whined at that and sat, panting. He offered Talon his cutest grin.

  “Nice try, pal. You probably need a rest anyway. Been out since yesterday morning.”

  From his pocket Talon produced the timber wolf trinket.

  “Go on, Chief, back to the spirit realm. I’ll summon you in the morning.”

  Chief whined as he turned to mist and swirled into the trinket. As Talon started toward the town, he remembered he had no back story, and tried to formulate one as he descended the hill to the main road.

  What was a good story? It had to be simple, and it had to explain his being Skomm. Aside from being a runaway, he could think of nothing.