Page 26 of From the Myths of Kings

Rook grew weary in the heat, his back slicked with sweat. His wound throbbed with pain, but he barely felt it as he climbed over fallen branches and ducked under hanging vines. He imagined all the atrocities being carried out in the Maeral Sea, all the Merfolk being driven from their homes like animals fleeing a forest fire.

Raven had to know of Elorshin’s collapse. She had eyes everywhere. He wondered what Raven attributed the attacks to. The Elders were most likely feeding her lies about the monsters that infested the seas and the cities being razed to ashes. Hel, he wouldn’t be surprised if Raven was convinced Hasana and the resistance were to blame after what happened in Coarinth.

He would find out soon enough.

12

SAOIRSE

Acrowd had gathered on the deck, cheering riotously under the pale light of the moon. Saoirse circled Neia, poised for another strike. The Terradrin captain’s long white hair spilled over her shoulders like a liquid moonbeam. She grinned, looking positively feral and she spun away on nimble feet. They danced along the deck, their swords tangling together. The crack of metal echoed across the waves as their blades met. The crowd of sailors roared as Saoirse parried Neia’s blow with an elaborate flourish.

With three days of sailing ahead of them and little else to do except for worry about what awaited them in the Under Kingdom, they’d settled on swordplay to distract themselves. When the moon grew heavy and the light of the stars unfurled across the sky, a group of shiphands began to spar on the deck, playfully at first, but growing more serious as various levels of expertise entered the ring. Saoirse had been leaning back against the taffrail enjoying the breeze that gusted off the ocean when Neia had challenged her to a duel.

Nearly an hour later, they stared at each other with sweat beading on their brows and their chests heaving. Saoirse hadn’t had this much fun since she’d trained with Aurelia in the Torqen training yards in Kellam Keep. It had been ages since she’d sparred for the sheer amusement of it, and as she side-stepped an attack and spun on her heels, Saoirse was reminded of just how much she loved swordplay. With the moon washing the ship in silver and the light of hanging brass lanterns flickering on cheering faces, the deck felt almost cozy.

Struggling to catch her breath, Saoirse leaned forward and placed her hands on her knees. “We’ll call it a tie,” she huffed.

“Are you sure, Mer Princess?” Neia sauntered over and clapped her on the shoulder. “You still have the chance to beat me.”

“I’m sure. Let’s call it a night.”

“Your Torqen captains trained you well,” Neia observed, swiping away the white strands clinging to her forehead. “You’re a talented fighter.”

“You didn’t figure that out in the Tournament?” Saoirse quipped, sheathing her sword. “Here I thought that my fellow tributes believed I was an equal in the arena.”

Neia chuckled. “To be fair, I didn’t have much time to assess your skill level during those trials. I always assumed you were gifted with a blade?you were chosen to compete after all. I seem to recall a certain duel that took place on a sky bridge,” she said, cocking her head. “There were rumors a Mer warrior had challenged the Auran prince to a sparring match. If the rumors were correct, that Mer warrior bested the Auran prince on his own turf. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?” Neia gave her a pointed glance, her colorless eyes glinting with humor.

Saoirse flushed. They hadn’t been as secretive about that duel as she’d thought, apparently. In hindsight, it was almost comical that she and Rook had been caught up in such a childish feud while Hasana and Neia were planning a rebellion all along.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She couldn’t hide the smile in her voice.

“If you’re still itching to fight, I’d love to best you,” a voice called. Saoirse and Neia turned to see Rymir stalking out of the crowd, that now-familiar lopsided grin tugging on one side of his face like a drawn curtain letting in a beam of sunshine. His eyes lit up as he entered the makeshift sparring circle. He’d already drawn his sword, a curved thing of beauty that reminded Saoirse of his cat-like smile.

“We’ve been over this enough, haven’t we? I’ve bested you too many times to count. I’ll spare you more humiliation,” Neia soothed.

“How thoughtful of you,” Rymir laughed. “Your concern for my delicate ego touches my heart.” He brandished his sword before her, a taunting look gleaming in his eyes. “But what if I best you? What consolation prize shall I offer you when this entire crew witnesses your failure?” The ship hands chortled at the jab, some even clapping.

Neia swiped a lock of sweaty hair from her face, doing her best to appear nonchalant in the face of his challenge. “All right, if you’re so confident in your abilities, I suppose I’ll accept your duel, futile as it may be.”

Neia and Rymir launched into the sparring match, blades singing through the air. If Saoirse hadn’t known better, she would’ve assumed the dueling pair was truly blood-related given their identical heights and slender builds. Rymir was fluid in his movements, each lunge and parry exuding a graceful ease that not even Neia could boast. But even in their differences, Rymir adopted the same tactics as his mentor, his lithe form naturally settling into the same combat stances she did. Neia had taught him well.

At some point during the duel, someone opened a tankard of ale and foaming amber gushed forth with a splash on the deck. Mismatched mugs and goblets were passed around as the pair continued to fight. Evidently, the crew believed Neia and Rymir would be at it for a while.

Saoirse found herself slipping away from the crowd and drifting back toward the stern alone. She watched as Terradrin and Tellusun rebels clinked their cups together and laughed like old companions. It was strange to see such comradery between vastly different people. She remembered the night after the first trial when she’d been summoned to Queen Raven’s tent to discuss the reports of an uprising in Meysam, the Terradrin trading city that skirted Aurandel’s border. Raven had described the uprising as a bloody and thoughtless conflict that threatened Revelore’s peace. At the time, it hadn’t been difficult for Saoirse to accept the rival kingdom had succumbed to chaos. With Terradrin’s history of rogue radical groups, it wasn’t exactly shocking to hear of Meysam’s upheaval. But Saoirse now understood that Raven had painted the uprising as a reckless gesture of disloyalty to sow seeds of discord amongst the leaders of Revelore. In reality, Terradrin radicals had simply wanted freedom from Aurandel’s tyranny. She was again struck by how wrong she had once been.

The rebels cheered on Neia and Rymir, tossing back frothy ale. Amongst themselves, some laughed and joked with each other, sharing a familiarity that suggested they’d known each other for years. She felt a twinge of jealousy in her heart. How long had they tasted unity like this? She wanted to experience that comradery for herself. She’d been wreathed with paranoia in the Maeral Sea for so long. It made sense an invitation to join Hasana’s rebellion had never been extended to Saoirse’s kingdom. Elorshin had been embroiled in hostility with Aurandel for a century, locked into a perpetual cycle of hatred and a vicious desire to conquer the other. The Mer were too set in their ways and too blinded by personal vendettas to be considered a possible ally. Saoirse felt a rush of shame for her kingdom’s century-old reputation.

“Why don’t you join us over there?” a voice interrupted Saoirse’s ruminations. “Fighting can actually be enjoyable when you’re not on the other side of a blade. And the satisfaction of watching the great Neia Landum being bested by her prodigy is the most entertaining thing I’ve experienced in a long time.”

Noora Mir strode over with two mugs in her hands. The Tellusun archer wore her usual desert scarf, its hood pulled down to reveal a long braid that fell to her waist. Her signature bow and arrows were nowhere to be seen. Noora’s dark eyes were a warm amber in the soft lamplight.

“I know it seems counter-intuitive to be making merry during such dark times. You’d think that we’d be solemnly praying for mercy and writing strategies until our fingers bleed. But I’ve found that when I have something to fight for, I don’t feel as shackled with fear.”

“It’s not that,” Saoirse replied, accepting the mug of ale gratefully. She took a sip and turned toward the stern’s railing, leaning over to stare at the ship’s wake. Tendrils of white sea foam trailed off like strings of pearls. The ocean appeared infinite in the darkness, the night sky bleeding into the inky waves to form a single plane. She couldn’t tell where the sky ended and where the sea began.

“I must confess that I feel like an imposter. There seem to be years of loyalty between you all. I’m an outsider. One whose kingdom has held yours in contempt for a century and who did nothing to help you when Aurandel tightened its tyrannical grasp after the War of the Age. I almost feel?unworthy to be among you.”

Noora’s perceptive eyes flashed. She took a gulp of ale and wiped her lips with her sleeve. “Firstly, we aren’t as perfect as we may seem. We don’t always see eye to eye. There have been some who’ve left the resistance over the decisions Hasana has made. We are seldom in full agreement with anything. Some leaders stood in opposition to our quest to retrieve the Relics. The dissenters believed there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as overthrowing Aurandel. However, it was made clear that without defeating Selussa, any effort to overthrow Aurandel would be futile if Revelore were destroyed.” She paused to take another sip from her mug, staring thoughtfully into the darkness.

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