Souls of Aredyrah 1 - The Fire and the Light

by Tracy A. Akers

  “Here’s my bed, Prince,” Kerrik announced. He motioned Reiv over to a cot framed with reed poles, its mattress that of a faded flax coverlet stuffed with soft grasses. Bouncing his bottom upon it, he said, “You can have my bed if you want. I’ll sleep on the floor. I don’t mind. I would like to sleep there. Would you like to—”

  “Gods!” Jensa said. “Leave him be for goodness sake.”

  “Thank you, Kerrik,” Reiv said, “but I will be fine on the floor, somewhere.”

  Reiv twisted around and inspected the interior of the hut. It was simple and neat and the rooms, if you could call them that, were separated by nearly transparent drapes of pastel cloth that billowed in the breeze wafting through the open doorway. There were two sleeping areas, one for Jensa and the other for her brothers, and there was a kitchen consisting of a wooden counter and a small baking hearth formed out of mud brick. Grass mats sat around a small, centrally located fire pit that appeared to be where they ate. The only table in the place was littered with tools and surrounded by baskets overflowing with shells. It was a pleasant place, bright and clean and full of feminine touches, and for a brief moment Reiv thought he might actually find happiness there. But then Torin spoke, and the blissful fantasy evaporated.

  “By the gods, Jensa!” Torin demanded. “What were you thinking of, bringing him here?”

  “He needed a skill. I offered him one.”

  “A skill? What skill would that be, pray tell?”

  “Seeking shells, of course. He and the other two were banished to Pobu, but no one would give the Prince work there. We inquired everywhere. What else could I do?”

  “And just what makes you think he’ll be accepted here?”

  “Do not concern yourself with me,” Reiv interjected. “I will just stand over here in the corner and pretend I cannot hear you insult me.” Reiv regarded Torin with open distaste. He was growing increasingly impatient with the man’s ill manners.

  “Don’t mind my brother,” Jensa said to Reiv. “He frequently forgets himself. Here. You can set your bag over here and bed down against that wall. I’ll move a few things out of the way. Perhaps in time we can get you a real bed put together. Now, let’s see about getting some refreshment.”

  “He is not staying!” Torin insisted.

  Kerrik stood to the side, remaining surprisingly quiet while his eyes darted back and forth between his sister and brother. Unable to hold his silence any longer, he rushed over and planted himself in front of Torin.

  “Oh, pleeeaaase, let him stay, Torin,” Kerrik begged. “I’ll look after the Prince. I will! I’ll teach him how to seek. You won’t have to, honest you won’t. And he can have some of my share of the food; I won’t mind. He won’t be any trouble. Please? I promise he won’t.” He gazed up at Torin with pleading eyes of liquid blue, and his bottom lip jutted out just a bit, no doubt a well-rehearsed act of manipulation. From the weakening expression on Torin’s hard face, it appeared to be working.

  “Yes, please, Torin,” Reiv mocked. “I will be a good prince, I promise.”

  Torin stormed over to Reiv and leaned his face to his. “There is no promise you could make that I would believe,” he said. “Your entire upbringing has been based on nothing but lies. Why should it be any different now?”

  Reiv clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. He wanted to strike the man down right then and there, and had every intention of doing so, when Kerrik suddenly wedged his way between them, nudging Torin back a step.

  “Out of the way, Kerrik, this is between the Prince and me!” Torin said. He didn’t take his eyes off Reiv for a single second, not even when he grabbed his little brother by the arm and swung him roughly to the side.

  “That is right, Torin,” Reiv said, his temper flaring. “Twist the boy’s arm off if it will make you feel like a man. I will not be moved aside so easily.”

  “We’ll see about that!” Torin said as he moved in Reiv’s direction. But a great wave of water suddenly washed over them both, leaving them gasping and sputtering, their eyelids flickering at the unexpected shower.

  “That should cool you both off,” Jensa said, one hand holding an empty bucket, the other fisted on her hip. “I’ve had enough of this nonsense. Torin, Reiv will stay. Reiv, you will watch your mouth. And Kerrik, you may take care of the Prince, but first please go fetch me some more water.”

  Kerrik drew in his breath as though he had just been given all the riches of Tearia. “Oh, thank you Jensa! When can I teach him? Today? Is today all right? Or would tomorrow be better? Oh, I can’t wait!” His still chattering voice could be heard trailing off into the distance as he ran to refill the bucket.

  “Are you hungry, Reiv?” Jensa asked, changing the subject. She motioned him toward the mats and picked up a basket filled with chunks of palm nut and held it out to him. “I hope you like these; we eat a great deal of it around here.”

  “I am sure it is very good,” Reiv said. “But I think I would rather have some dry clothes at the moment if you do not mind.” He remained standing and shook the water from his outstretched arms.

  “Well, you should have thought about that before you insulted my brother,” she said.

  “Insulted your—but—”

  She shot him a non-verbal warning, and he closed his mouth immediately.

  Torin smirked, feeling a taste of victory at his sister’s defense of him. But his face fell when she added, “Poor Torin can’t help his weaknesses, Reiv. He was born that way and it’s difficult for him to be reminded of them by a Tearian.”

  “Weaknesses?” Torin cried.

  Then it was Reiv’s turn to smirk, but he knew it would be a short-lived triumph. The sudden drenching of cold water may have temporarily cooled down their bodies, but the hostilities within their guts still smoldered hot and deep. It would only be a matter of time before the fires were rekindled.

  * * * *

  Because Kerrik desired it more than anything in the whole wide world, he was given permission to take Reiv to the beach that afternoon to train him in the work of seeking. Torin argued against leaving their little brother alone with the Tearian, but Jensa assured him the boys would not be alone, as most of the village would probably be spying on them anyway. After some debate, she and Torin marched out of the hut to continue their heated discussion in private. But it was clear Jensa had already won.

  Kerrik began the lesson by telling Reiv he would need to strip off his tunic and gloves. Reiv responded with a gasp and a knot in the pit of his stomach. The tunic was no problem, but removing the gloves was something else altogether.

  “You can’t hunt for shells in those,” Kerrik said, eyeing the gloves.

  Reiv removed them reluctantly and tossed them to the floor by his bedroll. Strangely, Kerrik did not act surprised by the scars on Reiv’s hands, though he did comment that they must have really hurt when they got burned. Reiv nodded silently in response and poised himself for the barrage of questions that was surely coming. To his surprise, none did. He pulled off his tunic, leaving only the undercloth beneath, and waited for the next instruction.

  “Now, we have to blacken your eyes to protect them from the sun,” Kerrik said. He reached over to a small, carved box and removed a bit of kohl. “Here, I’ll do it for you.”

  Reiv frowned. “No, I will not need that.”

  “Yes, you will,” Kerrik insisted. “The sun’s very bright and it reflects off the sand and the water. This keeps the reflection down. All the Shell Seekers wear it.”

  “Well, I am not a Shell Seeker,” Reiv said, but then he noticed the boy’s downcast expression. “I mean, I am not a Shell Seeker yet. Perhaps later, when I am truly one of you.”

  Kerrik sighed like a parent to an unruly child. “Very well, but you’ll regret it.” He gave Reiv a small knife for digging snails out of shells and prying them from between rocks, then handed him a belt with a cloth bag hanging from it to tie around his waist.

  “To put the shells in, of course,
” Kerrik said in response to Reiv’s puzzled expression. The boy inspected him up and down, his arms crossed in serious contemplation. “Your skin is very pale, Reiv. We should put something on it.”

  “Do not worry about it,” Reiv said. “I have spent many hours out of doors and my skin always looks like this. It will be fine.”

  Kerrik appeared resolved to accept Reiv’s stubbornness, and so he headed out the door, motioning his pupil to follow.

  As Reiv walked behind the sprite of a boy who was more hopping than walking along the sand, he could not help but stare at the twisted foot. It turned inward and arched in a very peculiar way, but it did not slow him down, and Kerrik seemed unaware that he should have any difficulty with it at all. Reiv looked down at his own hands and wished he could be as accepting of his imperfections as Kerrik was of his own, but he doubted he ever would.

  When they reached the beach, several villagers gathered, intent on enjoying the show. Kerrik marched over to them and barked an order for them to leave. “We will require some privacy during our lesson,” he told them. “Torin and Jensa said so.” With that, the disgruntled audience muttered their disappointment and walked away. Reiv could only stare in disbelief that one so small as Kerrik could command a group of adults as easily as that. But then he realized the boy was, after all, the brother of Jensa and Torin.

  “We’ll start there,” Kerrik said. “The water’s not too deep, so you can reach the bottom quickly.”

  “Reach the bottom? Why do we need to reach the bottom?”

  Kerrik jerked his head with bafflement. “To get the shells of course.”

  “Can we not just pick them up on the shore?”

  “On the shore?” Kerrik laughed. “Oh, no. Only the babies pick up shells off the shore, and there are not many shells that make it to shore anyway. We have to dive for the shells out there,” he said, pointing to the dark, gray-green of the deep.

  Reiv felt the blood drain from his face. “We are going out there?” he asked.

  “Yes, but today we’ll start closer in, though we may not find many shells.”

  Reiv paced along the water’s edge, eyeing it with consternation. A wave pushed its way in and lapped at his feet. He jumped back.

  “It’s not cold, come on!” Kerrik said, bounding into the water. He turned and motioned to Reiv who was still pacing back and forth. “Come on! What are you waiting for?”

  Reiv put in a foot and pulled it back, shaking his head. The water was not cold; it was in fact quite warm. But as it wrapped around his feet, it seemed to him like a living thing, its gritty fingers reaching out to pull him into the murky depths.

  Kerrik plodded his way through the water and back to shore where he stopped before his reluctant pupil. “Can’t you swim?” he asked.

  “Of course I can! But . . . well . . . actually . . . I have never swum in water so deep as this, and I have certainly never been in water so—so—” Reiv didn’t know how to finish the sentence without sounding like a complete idiot.

  “So . . . what?” Kerrik asked.

  “I just do not like it. That is all.”

  “Well, then, how are you going to hunt for shells? You don’t want to be a baby, do you? You don’t want everyone laughing at you, do you?”

  “No, but...”

  “I thought princes were brave,” Kerrik said. He sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to tell Torin and Jensa that you’re scared.”

  The image of Torin’s laughing, smirking face flashed into Reiv’s mind. “Oh, very well, I will learn to dive, but you had best teach me to swim better first. Is there someplace where the waters are a bit calmer?”

  Kerrik’s expression brightened. “I know just the place! There’s a pool near the rocks a ways down and no one will see us, unless they really try. We can do it there.”

  They headed down the shoreline and made their way between the craggy rocks that lay tumbled along it. Kerrik hopped across them easily, oblivious to their jags and razor-sharp edges. Reiv, however, picked his way cautiously along, frequently stopping to inspect his feet, fully expecting to see blood leaking out of them. After some time, they reached the pool, a reserve of calm surrounded by boulders against which the sea pounded thunderously. A great crashing wave occasionally sent a spray of water over the pool, settling upon them in a fine mist. But the pool itself was calm and not too deep and would suit their needs well enough.

  Reiv waded in as instructed and stared down through the clear water. The sand felt gritty as it crunched and shifted beneath his weight. Tiny, silver fish darted about his ankles and nipped at his toes. An orange-shelled crab sauntered slowly alongside him. He didn’t like the strange creatures at all. He kicked a foot toward the fish and moved in the other direction of the crab.

  “They won’t hurt you,” Kerrik said, noting Reiv’s look of discomfort.

  “Oh, I know. I just do not wish to harm them,” Reiv lied. In truth, he wouldn’t have minded if the crab was good and dead.

  From that point on Reiv practiced putting his face, then his head, then his whole body under the water. He kept his feet firmly planted in the sand, ducking under in a sort of squat. But that plan did not go well as the buoyancy of his body jeopardized his balance, and he soon found himself struggling back up. During one such attempt he felt something brush across his cheek. He reacted to it with a gasp, not a good idea under water he quickly learned. He pushed up frantically, coughing and gagging and throwing up salt water. It burned his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth, and his belly felt sick afterward, but Kerrik, who seemed to possess a sort of ruthlessness as a teacher, would allow him no rest, insisting he go back under as soon as he had recovered.

  Eventually Reiv floated face down and stroked his arms back and forth as he paddled across the water. He learned to ignore the fact that he was sharing the pond with pinching claws and sharp fins. It helped that he didn’t open his eyes, but then he was told he would have to do that as well. A Shell Seeker would find few shells with his eyes closed.

  The first time Reiv opened his eyes under water they stung and felt as if someone had thrown a handful of sand into them, prompting him to wonder how in the world he would ever get used to it. For a moment he considered giving up his foolish attempt at being something he obviously could not. But then he forced his eyes to stay open and saw the fishes swimming in their synchronized dances, and the crab meandering across the sand, its beady-black eyes turned up to him in mutual curiosity. He began to feel somewhat of an appreciation for the strange creatures and found himself thinking that perhaps he could become a Shell Seeker after all.

  They practiced for hours, floating and diving and competing with each other for who could hold their breath the longest. Kerrik always won, of course, but with each attempt Reiv increased his time, and before long he became bound and determined to win, though he never did. After a while they took themselves to the beach to rest.

  “I think you’re ready to go to the deeper water,” Kerrik said. “Maybe tomorrow. We won’t go out too far though. It’s harder with the waves, but even if you’re not so good with strokes, at least you can float. But first I need to tell you about the snakes.”

  Reiv sat up quickly. “The snakes? You mean the sea snakes? Oh gods, I forgot about the sea snakes. Surely we will not be swimming with them! Do they attack? What happens if—”

  “Yes,” Kerrik said.

  “Yes what?” Reiv asked, his voice squeaking somewhat.

  “Yes, I’m talking about the sea snakes. Yes, we’ll be swimming with them. And yes, they’ll attack if you make them mad.”

  Kerrik seemed indifferent, and for a moment Reiv could only stare at him, his satisfaction at the day’s accomplishments washed out with the tide.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of snakes, too,” Kerrik said. “Well, you better get used to them. They live out there and there’s no way to avoid them. Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”

  The boy who seemed so childlike when they’d first m
et had taken on a maturity beyond his years since they had begun their lessons. He now spoke about diving with snakes as if he had been doing it for a hundred years.

  “How old are you?” Reiv asked.

  “Why, I’m seven!” Kerrik replied.

  “Seven? And how long have you been diving for shells?”

  The boy twisted his mouth and rolled his eyes to the sky as he worked it out. “Three years . . . ever since I was four.”

  “Four! Gods, they let a four-year-old dive with snakes?”

  “I told you, only the babies pick up the shells on the shore. Don’t worry, Reiv. The snakes are not so big. But there is one—” Kerrik sat up, suddenly alert, and his eyes took on a look of wonder. “I’m going to slay it one day. Then I’ll be the most famous Shell Seeker ever known!”

  “How big is this snake exactly?” Reiv asked.

  “Oh, it’s huge!” Kerrik jumped up and spread his arms out wide. “It’s longer than anything! It’s Seirgotha, the most evil creature in all the deep.” Then he began the story, his face full of animation, every limb moving in the telling of the tale.

  “It is she who stirs the waters and makes the whirlpools that would swallow us and the tides that would drag us out to sea. And she has magic in her, for she can disguise herself and no one ever sees her until it is too late. Legend says she will someday show herself and try to take us all down into the depths. But then a great warrior will slay her, and because of his bravery the warrior will be given power by the gods. It’s said the warrior will be given great knowledge and with it he can save everyone.” Kerrik paused and fixed his face with determination. “I will be that warrior. I will slay her, and then I’ll know how to heal!”

  The initial fear of the huge snake evaporated from Reiv’s mind. He could not help but smile at the boy whose tiny body was poised for battle with an imaginary sea monster. “Perhaps you will slay it, Kerrik,” he said. “Perhaps you truly will.”