The Awakened: A Wandering Stars Novel

by Jason Tesar

  Fighting the pain, Bahari rose out of the shallow water that had filled the lower level of the boat. Surging through the knee-deep flood, he hurried toward the stern of the ship where his quarters were located. Making his way around several crates that had worked loose of their ropes, he passed a section of the port hull where water gushed into the ship through a puncture wound left by a serpent-headed battering ram. Bahari stumbled on without slowing, realizing in an instant why the enemy ship was able to stop short of crashing into his freighter.

  The sound of pursuing footsteps could be heard above him, moving in the direction of the stairs at the bow. Bahari reached the stern and stepped into his room, bolting the door shut for the first time that he could remember. Now that he was momentarily safe, Bahari reached down to the back of his left thigh and felt the shaft of an arrow protruding from his leg. He pulled gently, but stopped as waves of pain raced up his leg, making him feel suddenly nauseous.

  All of a sudden, something crashed into the door and it bowed slightly inward. Outside the door, he could hear the voices of his pursuers who had found his hiding place. He quickly looked around for a weapon to defend himself, but instead noticed the porthole above his bed. It was just large enough to squeeze through, but he knew the arrow sticking out from his leg would cause a problem.

  Again, a crash sounded at the door and the thick wood flexed, threatening to break but for the strength of the iron hinges bolted across its planks.

  They’ll break it eventually!

  Bahari grabbed the shaft of the arrow as close to his leg as he dared touch, and broke it with a quick snap of the wrist. The feathered part of the arrow came off in his hand, leaving the rest of the shaft and the arrowhead in his leg. The sharp pain made his stomach turn.

  Now there was shouting outside the door, followed by another loud crash.

  Bahari tried to ignore the pain in his leg as he climbed onto his bed and leaned on the wall for balance. The porthole was now at eye-level and he pushed it open, catching a brief glimpse of the moonlight reflected on the ocean.

  He gripped the sill of the porthole with both hands and jumped, relying mostly on the strength of his right leg, while pulling with his arms. Squeezing his upper body through the hole proved more difficult than he thought it would be. With the water in sight, he no longer thought about the men behind him. He simply leaned forward and let gravity pull the rest of his body out of the porthole.

  It was a short fall into the water below, the world becoming suddenly silent. For a moment Bahari felt a small measure of peace. But it didn’t last long as his need for air drove him back to the surface. Once more, his ears were assaulted by the sound of yelling and more running footsteps, which he hoped would conceal his escape.

  Quietly, he moved to the hull of his ship to keep from being seen from above. His leg was throbbing now.

  I have to think quickly. I have to hide…but where?

  Treading water was getting difficult with his leg wound and he knew he couldn’t keep it up for long.

  Where can I hide that they won’t look for me?

  Then it came to him. On their boat! He knew it wasn’t possible to board their ship without getting caught, but maybe he could hide along the hull.

  He tried to calm his breathing, then sucked in a big gulp of air, diving beneath the surface. He kicked his one good leg and clawed with his hands along the underside of his boat. The sounds of the soldiers above were muffled and echoing as if he were listening from far away. He felt safer down here, detached from the horrible things that took place above him. When he reached the keel, he pushed off and swam with all of his might for the other boat. It took longer than he expected and he was out of breath by the time he reached it.

  He knew that he couldn’t surface between the boats without getting caught, so he dove deeper, trying to fight the panic of drowning as he struggled to get underneath the enemy boat. To his surprise, the hull of the ship was shallow and he soon found himself on the other side, heading for the surface. His lungs were burning now and he had to fight the urge to open his mouth and breathe in the water around him. Just as quickly as the thought came to him, his head broke free of the water on the port side of the enemy ship and he gasped for air as silently as he could.

  Though still vulnerable, he was farther away from the commotion now and used the opportunity to search along the ship for somewhere to hide. The hull was completely smooth, just as he expected it to be, and he was unable to find a handhold. He made his way cautiously to the stern and found, to his relief, an alcove where the anchor was suspended from a chain that exited the hull of the ship. Bahari swam underneath the anchor, into the shadows of the alcove and gripped the anchor with both hands.

  The passing seconds seemed like hours to him as he hung in the water, holding the rusting metal. Occasionally, scraps of coherent sentences floated to him from above deck.

  “…leave him there. He’ll go down with the ship!”

  Bahari hoped that the men outside the door to his room had given up on their chase. As long as they were unable to get into the room, they would think that he remained there for the safety that it offered. If they got into the room they would see the open window and know that he was outside the ship. Within a few minutes, he could hear the sound of marching footsteps getting louder as the soldiers left his boat and boarded their own.

  The sky was beginning to lighten in the east, which was the only direction that Bahari could see past the anchor and the confines of the alcove. With miles of ocean surrounding him on every side, he started to wonder what he was going to do if the enemy stopped looking for him. Without warning, the ship lurched backwards, putting an end to his wondering as he struggled to hold on to the anchor. Then he heard the voices of men yelling in unison and the ship lurched again. He counted five such motions, accompanied by a shuddering vibration that moved through the hull of the ship each time. On the last attempt, they pulled the battering ram free of Bahari’s ship, allowing the weight of the water inside the hull to drag it down the side of the reef. As the enemy ship turned back to the south, Bahari watched from his hiding spot as his cargo ship rolled to the port side and slipped beneath the surface. Everything he had worked for, everything that made his way of life possible came to an end in that moment. Within minutes, the boat was gone, with only an area of bubbles and floating debris to show where it had been.

  Despair threatened to overtake him, but he fought it off, realizing the urgency of his situation. What am I going to do now? I can’t hang on to this anchor forever. Even now, the jagged, rusted metal was biting into his hands. Even if he could hold on, he would be in greater danger once the ship reached its port. No, I’ve got to get free of this boat without them seeing me! Suddenly, the ship began to turn around and as they came back to the sight of the attack, Bahari realized that they were looking for survivors.

  Isn’t it enough that you attacked us and sank my ship? Is it really necessary to make sure that we’re all dead? Pirates would be satisfied with looting and sinking the ship. As soon as the thought came to his mind, Bahari was faced with the obvious conclusion. These were not pirates.

  Who are these people? What are they doing out here? Are they looking for something, protecting something, hiding from something? It is an outrage that a citizen of the Empire would be attacked like this!

  As they passed the attack area once more, Bahari hoped to come in contact with some debris that he could hide behind, but the ship stayed just barely out of the wreck area. Then as they moved further to the south, he noticed a barrel floating a few yards away. The sky was still mostly dark, offering a small measure of concealment and he knew that the opportunity would not present itself again. So, taking a deep breath, Bahari ducked under the water and pushed off of the boat. The saltwater stung his eyes and it was too dark to make out the barrel. He continued to kick his good leg and paddle with one arm while the other was outstretched, feeling for the barrel. At first, he thought that he had passed it and start
ed to panic, knowing that he couldn’t go to the surface to look. But then his hand touched something firm. Swimming underneath it, he surfaced, taking caution to keep the floating barrel between him and the enemy ship. He waited, for what seemed like an eternity, before risking a peek from behind the barrel. When he did, he saw that the ship was only a dark silhouette on the brightening horizon. For the first time since the attack began, Bahari breathed a sigh of relief.

  He floated in the water for a moment, clinging to the barrel, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. His most immediate threat was now sailing to the south, but in many ways, his current situation was worse. Now what do I do? I’m floating in the middle of the ocean and I don’t even know where I am or how to get to land! He shook his head to clear his mind.

  He had been heading south along the coast from Nucotu when he missed the turn and ended up on the west side of the reef. As close as he could figure, he was still well north of the halfway point between the two cities and many miles west of the shore. With a dangerous reef in between! He would have several days’ journey before he could reach the shore. That’s if the tides don’t carry me past the southern tip! For that amount of time, he would need food and water.

  Then, as the sky continued to lighten in the east, a smile formed on Bahari’s face. All around him, scattered in the dawn light, were crates of fruit drifting away from the sight of the attack. If the gods are merciful, I should reach land within a few days. And then the Governor will know about this!

  Chapter 3

  The rectangular peephole slid open, showing the eyes of an elderly woman, then shut suddenly. A few seconds later, the large door opened inward and the nurse of the temple of Adussk, the god of healing, bowed in reverence before the Governor of Bastul.

  Adair Lorus walked through the door and motioned for the woman to rise. Although it still made him uncomfortable, he had come to expect this reverent behavior from his subjects. Each of the royal guards at his flanks carried spears in their right hands and torches in their left, casting a flickering orange glow around the trio, barely fighting back the darkness of the night.

  “I was told you have a man in your custody…a sick man.”

  “Yes, my lord,” the old woman responded. “He has been here since yesterday morning, unconscious and silent until a few hours ago. But then he started moaning your name, so I sent for you. I hope I have not disturbed you,” she stated quickly.

  “Not at all. Thank you for notifying me. May I see him?” he asked, unnecessarily.

  “…at once, my lord.” The woman turned to Adair’s right and began walking down a long hall. The dark green fabric of her veil and floor-length tunic billowed as she hurried through the dark passage, restricted only by the leather apron tied at her waist. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone floor as they passed numerous doorways and candles burning in sconces along the stone walls. The hall turned to the left and continued for another hundred feet before it ended at a door. The woman pulled a set of keys from her apron.

  With a nod of confirmation, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. Adair walked slowly into the room, unsure of what he might find. The guards followed closely, their torches adding to the light from a small lamp hanging on the wall. The soft illumination showed a man lying on top of the sheets, covered in bandages, and throwing his head back and forth. If he had been moaning before, he showed no signs of it now.

  “Where did you find this man?”

  “A soldier brought him to me. He said they found him on the western shore.”

  Adair wrinkled his eyebrows as he walked over to the bed. “Is he awake?”

  “No, my lord. It only appears that way because he moves so much.”

  Adair stood over the bed with his hands clasped behind his back. It was plain to see that the man was badly injured. He had a large bandage around his left thigh and the skin on his face and arms was burned and peeling. His hair was gray, flecked with brown, and matted on his head. Adair looked at his face but didn’t recognize him.

  “No…” the man mumbled and then flinched as if dodging something.

  Suddenly, a memory sprang into Adair’s mind. He had dealt with this man before on the matter of neglecting to pay a shipping tax. Usually, any crime against the Empire, no matter how small, was punishable by death under Orudan law. Adair had shown mercy on the man and let him live. After that, the man tried to repay Adair’s kindness by sending word of any criminal happenings around the city, as he became aware of them. Adair had to admit that this man had proven to be a useful informant on several occasions, but he hadn’t heard anything from him in almost a year.

  As the man’s name came back to his memory, Adair said it aloud. “Bahari.”

  “Do you know him, my lord?” the old woman asked.

  “Yes,” Adair answered, wondering why Bahari would be moaning his name. “You said he was found on the western shore?”

  “Yes, my lord. That’s what the soldier told me. I’ve…” she started, but then trailed off.

  Adair turned to her. “What is it, woman? If you know something, tell me at once!”

  “I’ve seen this type of thing before,” she answered, her body language more timid than before. “A man gets in a drunken fight and finds himself washed up on the beach. I thought this was another such occurrence,” she said, her voice lowering to a whisper. “But when I cleaned the wound on his leg I pulled this out.”

  Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she produced what appeared to be the dangerous half of an arrow. She handed it to Adair and he took it carefully.

  The craftsmanship was better than what the Orud military used, but he couldn’t place it.

  “How was it positioned in his leg?”

  “May I…?” the woman asked, motioning for the arrow.

  “Please,” Adair said, handing it back to her.

  “It entered from the back,” she said, holding it up to Bahari’s leg. “But it wouldn’t come out so I had to take it out from the front. It wasn’t easy, but he didn’t even seem to notice.”

  Adair looked back at Bahari and shook his head. What did you get yourself into this time? “I am leaving for a while, but I will be back,” he said to the woman. “While I am gone, keep his door locked and let no one else see him.”

  “Yes, my lord,” she said with a nod.

  Adair strode out of the room with the guards following closely. When he reached the front door, he called over his shoulder to the old woman who was struggling to keep up. “If he wakes up, try to find out what happened.”

  * * * *

  The sun had just peeked over the mountains to the east and the Bay of Bastul glittered with the first rays of the morning sunlight. Maeryn stood on the balcony of her bedroom with her hands on the stone railing. Her night clothes and long blonde tresses swayed in the light breeze as she took a deep breath of the salty air and exhaled. Adair wasn’t in bed when she woke and the sheets were cold. He had obviously left sometime during the night and it was bothering her. It wasn’t as if this was the first time. Actually, it was a regular occurrence for someone of Adair’s position. But Maeryn was finding it harder and harder to deal with his absences. When you’re the governor of Bastul, everyone needs something from you. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned, walking back into the bedroom.

  The house was already alive with activity. The slaves had been awake for a couple hours and were scurrying around the house, busy with their duties. Maeryn pulled a fresh white tunic from her closet and slipped it over her head. The purple thread sewn into the hem dragged on the floor until she gathered the tunic at her waist and fastened it with a matching purple silk belt. She walked barefoot to her mirror set against the wall and sat down in the chair which faced it. Voices drifted to her from different parts of the house as she combed her hair, but she hardly heard them. She was unable to stop thinking about Adair and her thoughts turned from irritation at his increasing responsibilities to worry about his safety.


  After combing out a night’s worth of tangles, she wove her hair into a simple braid that hung down to the middle of her back, tying the ends of the thick locks with a narrow ribbon. On the table next to her comb were two elaborately decorated glass bottles of rose oil, a rare treat in her culture. Adair had purchased each of them on separate occasions from a merchant friend of his that passed through Bastul only a few times a year. She pulled the glass stopper from the older of the two bottles and applied a drop to each wrist and one on either side of her neck.

  Now ready for the day, Maeryn left her bedroom and descended the stairs leading toward the center of the house, remembering Kael’s excitement about a new project that he and Saba were going to start in the morning. As she reached the first floor, the garden courtyard came into view between white stone columns which supported the overhanging roof. She headed through the center two columns and down a circular set of stairs that led to the gravel floor. The bright morning sun reflected off the top of the house to her left, leaving the rest of the open area in morning shadows. By noon, the sun would be shining straight down into the garden and the many trees and flowers would bask in the warmth.

  Just as she suspected, Kael and Saba were at the other end of the garden. As she approached, Saba stood from a kneeling position at the base of a small tree.

  “Good morning, Maeryn,” he said in a soft voice.

  “Mother,” exclaimed Kael, running toward her and throwing his arms around her waist.

  Maeryn reached down and stroked Kael’s shoulder-length blonde hair. His blue eyes were bright, especially when he was excited about something. Most boys his age would be embarrassed to hug their mothers. But not Kael; he was different—special. “Good morning, you two. And what are you working on now?” she asked.

  Kael answered excitedly before Saba had a chance. “Saba is going to show me how to graft a branch onto this tree. They are different species, but he says they will grow together if we are very careful.”