Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(34)
“But it was all right,” Kai reassured Aver, “because Sun saw her sister falling and bent her light in the north, making many colors dance across the sky as a warning to their parents. Tempus and Neb looked up to see their young daughter falling and threw her a palm frond. Cirrus caught the fan and used it to make a west wind that lifted her back to the top of the mountain.
“When they realized what Eurus had tried to do, Tempus and Neb were furious. Tempus picked up his son and threw him as far as he could until Eurus fell to the rocky shores of an island.”
Another gust of wind filled the sails harshly, as if a giant hand had punched them.
Jaro frowned and shook his head, but Kai continued his tale. “Eurus lived there for a timeless time, all alone, and when—”
“He deserved to be alone,” Aver said, her face pinched in a scowl. “After what he tried to do to his sister.”
“Indeed,” said Kai. “He deserved to suffer for that.”
Again, the wind swirled for a few seconds but then died completely. We all looked up to see the sails slack for the first time in weeks.
“It’s bad luck to invoke the name of the east wind while at sea,” Jaro whispered.
“You don’t really believe that,” I said, but I found myself nearly whispering, too. As if some unseen hostile ear might catch the words. After all, according to the legends, the god of the east wind was the creator of the Minax, and I certainly believed in its existence.
Jaro scrambled to his feet. “If the wind gods withhold their gift, we’ll remain here, becalmed and helpless. It’s no way for a sailor to die, starving at sea with—”
“That’s enough, Jaro,” said Kai, affectionate but firm. “We’ll finish the tale another night.”
Aver whined and pleaded for more, but he stayed firm. “Another night.”
Aside from a few squalls, the weather was hospitable for the rest of the journey. When I emerged on deck one morning, about four weeks after sailing from Tevros, the islands had grown closer on our port side. A dark, rocky shoreline loomed ahead.
“Land?” I asked, leaning eagerly over the rail.
“The Strait of Acodens,” said Jaro in his native tongue. My comprehension of Sudesian had become quite passable over the previous weeks. “This is where Fireblood masters guard the passage night and day, although Frostblood sailors never venture in this far—too many rocks and shifting sandbars for their big ships.”
Tall, jagged cliffs blotted out the horizon. As we drew closer, the texture became clear: craggy and pockmarked, as if a bunch of rotted teeth had been jammed into the stone. A narrow ribbon of sea was threaded between two peaks, which leaned toward each other as they soared toward the sky. Outposts were set on ledges high above sea level. Figures in orange tunics moved into view. One of them called out, “Identify yourselves!” Kai gave his name and was greeted with friendly shouts.
It took a few minutes to navigate between the crags looming on either side. Sea spray arced over the deck as it roiled in the narrow gap. Any mistake in steering would result in a breach in our hull. It felt like the entire crew held their breath for the duration.
Once we’d passed through, the tension eased. It was clear from the grins on the crewmembers’ faces that we were in the home stretch.
I leaned over the port railing and sucked in a lungful of humid air. The weather flaunted a welcome, sunny heat that made me want to stay on deck all day. It was the first time I’d felt truly warm outdoors. As we sailed south, I could feel the giddy power of the sun thrumming through my blood.
Over the next two days, the space between islands thinned, until we were hemmed in on both sides. Kai had the crew measuring the sea depth at regular intervals.
Then finally, late one day, there was a triumphant cry from Aver sighting the Isle of Sere, the capital. When she cried out the Sudesian word for home, it was one of the most joyous sounds I’d ever heard.
Home. The thought punctured something deep in my chest. I was in the land of my mother and my grandmother. I had longed to see it, even more than I’d ever admitted to myself. And I was here. I had made it.
The crew climbed into the rigging or pressed against the rails, whooping excitedly. A large island took shape, its wide bay backed by emerald hills, and behind that, the haze of several peaks topped with fluffy clouds that seemed to make the sky bluer. The bay was studded with white-sailed vessels bobbing in the turquoise water, mostly small boats, but some larger ships. Excited shouts from shore brought answering waves and smiles from the crew. It suddenly sank in that none of those waves or shouts were for me.
But even so, a kick of delight sizzled through my veins as I took in the sandy shoreline, the intensely green hills, the puff of smoke from a volcano that rose with haughty superiority above the other mountains. Everything looked so lush and jewel-bright, completely different from Tempesia and somehow more than anything I’d ever imagined.
If only Arcus were here to see it with me.
NINE
KAI WAS SILENT AS OUR CARRIAGE climbed the swell of a hill with sides draped in a cloak of green, a castle crowning its top. Thick walls connected four towers made of carefully fitted black stones. The style was heavy and square, without any spires or pointed roofs—more like Forwind Abbey than Arcus’s ice castle. But though it appeared rather dark and forbidding at first glance, there was a stark beauty about it. The windows were all arched, the crenellations on the towers as delicate as lace edging. Low walls made from red and black stone bordered gardens bursting with impossibly bright flowers.