Page 35 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

Taking a deep breath, I knelt in the soil of a small clearing. I lowered my fingers to the dirt, the cool Earth engulfing them.I slid my power down, feeling for every root that ran under the ground nearby. I sensed a pulse of life and thanked them silently for their strength over many centuries.

I took hold of those ancient roots, pulling them up as gently as I could. The ground began to rumble and disrupt all around me. My magic flowed up and through their massive trunks, touching the trees’ every nerve ending. The half a dozen sequoias around me swayed, destabilized. I raised my hands, holding their energy between my fingers. I thanked them once more, then flicked my wrists, wincing at what came next. A bellowing crack indicated the breaking of one of these foundations. They snapped in half one by one, pushing the next down like a falling circle of dominos. But when they fell, their roots rose to catch them, placing them on the earthen floor with a gentleness befitting their sacrifice.

I shuttered my gaze, letting the wood unfold around me, picturing the enormous battleship of a history book I had poured through as a girl, a ship used by the seafaring warriors of Salamiere on their expeditions. I imagined the trunks of the sequoias splitting into long planks. Held together by flowing tree sap, the planks formed a massive hull, thick and impenetrable, save for oar holes that lined the port and starboard sides.

A disturbance vibrated all around me, the ground shifting in a dizzying way. The soil beneath my knees gave way to hard wood, dirt sifting out. I knew I was being raised up in my creation, but I did not break focus. In my mind’s eye, I saw the roots crawling up the sides of the ship to form a large, twisted mast at the center of its body. The smaller roots danced around and into the hull, and I allowed them to take any shape they pleased, for function or form. There was the till and rudder; roots braided together to create the steering capability of the ship. And last came the sails. Harder and more intricate, I imagined each fiber of discarded bark splitting into millions,floating in the air. After they stilled, I coaxed them together, weaving them in a cross-stitch pattern I’d learned from my mother. And between each fiber, I left a slip of my power. For strength, for guidance, and for bravery, I whispered to them. The sails settled on the mast, my work finished.

I kneeled on the elevated bow, facing the stern of the ship. It was imposing, beautiful, andmine. I beamed at the creation, my heart feeling fuller than it had before. A loud, slow clap broke my moment of silent pride. Leuffen peeked out from behind one of the still-standing trees. More invisible clapping ensued, delivered by the rest of the observers I hadn’t known were there, until a crowd applauded.

I swungmy feet over the side of the ship and pushed off, my waist landing in the ready hands of Leuffen, my palms resting on his shoulders. He spun me around, his arms extending me into the air above his head. I threw my head back and let a laugh escape. He put me down and wrapped me into his chest. “Well done, lass,” he said softly.

He released me, and more of the crowd approached. Few I had spoken to before, but everyone came to admire the ship, to “ooh” and “ahh,” and pepper me with questions about my construction technique. Apparently, most of them had been there for the weaving of the sails. I was told it was quite the sight, millions of bark fibers floating in the air one moment and then converging into sails the next. I even heard a few snickers followed by a “Well, that beats Dane’s handiwork” or “What a waste of a day that was.”

But despite the comments, Dane came over to me after the commotion had settled down. He grilled me on the choice ofwood, strength of the sails, and position of the till. It was the most he’d spoken to me since I nearly killed him. He seemed genuinely excited to talk now, a true lover of learning.

Eventually, Jana emerged from the group. “I suppose I should have shown you control earlier,” she said lightly. “Late this evening, we will launch both ships. Under the cover of night, we will inspect them and deem them seaworthy or not. Before dawn, the chosen ship will be well on its way toward the northern port city of Panderen, and we will make our way through the mountains.”

By the time Leiya, Leuffen, and I began walking to camp, nearly every member of our group had congratulated, thanked, or complimented me, save for one unmistakable pair of green eyes.

“Ye never said ye were a shipbuilder,” Leiya exclaimed. “How’d ye even know what te put where?”

I shrugged. “I studied them as a girl. I studied many things, actually. I read whatever I could get my hands on. But I always loved ships. I used to dream that I’d sail one far away from Argention. Before, I only wanted adventure, to see more of the world, to be more than the wife of a miner.” I shook my head. “Now, I’d do anything to go back to the way things were—to have my family again. I almost feel ashamed I ever thought to leave them.”

“Aye,” Leuffen said quietly. “Et isna ‘till the things we love are gone, that we appreciate them so.”

“Well, Terra, she’s a beauty. What’re ye gonna name her? She’s gotta have a name, ef she’s te carry us all the way to Panderen.” Leiya winked at me and then bit into her daily apple. I paused, thinking, walking just a few steps ahead of my friends. And then out of nowhere, like a restrained synapse finally fired, it came to me.

“Casmerre,” I said, the familiar name warming my chest.

At that, Leiya choked and bent over, heaving and spewing half-chewed chunks of fruit. Leuffen just stopped in his tracks, frozen. I spun around to face them.

“What? Is something wrong with Casmerre?”

Leuffen, who had gone to thump his sister on the back, turned to me, his face pale and unreadable. “Why that name, Terra?”

I shifted on my feet, uncomfortable with their reaction. “It was the name of my late Shepard in Argention. Maybe it’s stupid, naming a ship after a dog, but he was fearless in water. Even when the snow melt made the rivers violent, he could always keep up in a current and had a steady direction. Why?”

They stared back at me like I’d grown a second head. But a moment later, they recollected, straightening. “We ‘ad a parrot when we were young, ye see, beloved by our family, but he died when a dog named Casmerre ate hem,” Leiya said. “The similarity a’ name jest caught me off guard, that’s all.”

I caught Leuffen shooting her a quick glare. “Is that it?” I asked, cocking my head.

Leiya only cleared her throat. “Ets me turn te scout. I’ll see the two of ye later.”

I snagged her by the back of her arm before she shifted. “Leiya,” I searched her eyes for whatever she was hiding. “Be safe.”

She just blinked, and then twisted into flight.

They chosemy ship in the end. It was lighter, faster, yet seemingly more impenetrable, according to Leuffen. “And after all, Wetches do like beautiful things,” Leuffen had said with a wink.

I prepared my saddle bags and fastened my bedroll to Blackjack’s hind with a pat of his rump. We were downsizing now, no more carts to carry large canvas tents and cots. Jana wanted the ability for a quick escape, should we need one. The evening fell heavy when I finished, and the Casmerre was nearly ready to depart. I mounted Blackjack, and we made our way down to the water. We were still about an hour’s ride from camp, but the ship crew’s many trips throughout the last few hours had forged the path well.

Sanah stood at the helm, already aboard, and I waved to her, hoping she could see me on shore by the light of the moon’s reflection. I didn’t see a wave back, but I could have sworn she touched her hand to her chest—and perhaps her forehead. Leiya soared across the water in falcon form, returning periodically to give updates by coded cries. Everyone seemed to be loaded, save for twelve riders on the beach, waiting to send our compatriots to what we all hoped was not their impending doom. I noticed Leuffen to the side of the shore, in deep conversation with Jana. It looked near contention; though inaudibly, he was raising his voice more than was usually in his nature.

It ended with an abrupt turn, and he made his way to the last remaining rowboat, shaking his head, seemingly in frustration. I dismounted and ran to him. The splashing of my boots in the shallow water gave me away. He turned to me as I sprang up to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. Leuffen seemed ready for it and enveloped me in a hug. We lingered there, two friends, not ready to say goodbye.

He lowered me and pulled me into him once more, my head now resting on his chest. “Lass,” he whispered into my hair. “Dinna worry, we’ll be alright.” I gazed up at him, unsure if I could trust his words,knowinghe held back. But a sincerity shimmered in his eyes, and the way he’d watched out for me the past few weeks made me feel comforted. Safe, even.

“I know there’s something you’re both hiding from me, I can feel it,” I said, and he grimaced in reaction. “But it’s okay, truly. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready. And I just… well, I can’t lose anyone else.”

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