Journey to the Water Chapter XXIII: The Port of Charkand

Journey to the Water cover image: three evergreen trees stand on a hillside, shrouded in bluish fog. Subtitle reads: the sequel to Beyond the Frost-Cold Sea.

The Lady of Osona passed into the storm’s eye. Where there had been wailing wind and rain beating against my back, there was now an empty, yawning stillness. The ship rested lightly upon calm waters.

My hands had contorted into stiff, aching claws, and splinters dug into my palms and the exposed skin of my legs. I climbed down from the mast, forcing my limbs to stretch. My head spun; though the ship beneath me lay as if in a deep, dreamless sleep, I felt as though it would throw me into the sea. When my rope-burned feet reached the deck, I fell to my knees and shut my eyes, forcing myself to breathe evenly until rain brushed against my shoulders and the back of my neck once again.

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Journey to the Water Interlude Three: The Broken Road

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The creature clung to Khalim’s back, breathing a quick, shallow rhythm against his neck. It was light as a bird, and its fingers ended in tiny, sharp talons, black and shiny as obsidian, that clicked together as it adjusted its hold on his shoulders. It was a meat-eating creature, Khalim guessed, based on the claws and its many pointed teeth—though maybe it didn’t eat anything. He hadn’t been hungry since his still-shaky memories of the world before the citadel, and there wasn’t anything identifiable to eat in this place even if he had been. He was lost, and so very cold, but the world beyond had not been as cruel as he’d feared.

The question remained, then, why someone would lay a trap to catch small creatures in the wood, if not to eat them. Its iron jaws could have easily closed on Khalim, had he been less fortunate. At the very least, he wouldn’t have starved to death before he freed himself.

“So,” he said. His voice was flat and muffled to his own ears, swallowed up by the forest. “Where are we going?”

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Journey to the Water Chapter XXII: The Tempest

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We left the shallow seas and the sandy isles the following day, our ship heavy with provisions and our hearts light. We would sail north, Hamilcar said, and in a few short weeks we would find ourselves on the shores of a vast green country, the land that my Khalim had called home. It must have been a gentle land, I thought, one of soft rains and bountiful harvests. My homeland was harsh, and my people scratched out a living among the mountain stones and struggled with one another for everything we had, and it had made me a warrior. I feared I would be too much a stranger in a country that produced healers.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XXI: Calm Seas

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With the terrible book in my hands, I retraced my steps through the neglected garden and returned to the palace. A cold wind had come in from the sea as the sun set, and the strange warmth of the book’s leather binding cooled until it felt like the skin of a dead man. I considered throwing it from the ship as soon as I reached open water. I could only guess at its contents, but I was filled with the grim certainty that it was an evil book, and I would find no help in its pages that did not cost me my very soul.

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Journey to the Water, Chapter XX: The Temple of the New Gods

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Like most of the people of Salmacha, the priest Chanjask was tall and long-limbed, and his age was difficult to tell. His skin lacked the rough, oaken quality of his superior, Ucasta, so I guessed him to have lived forty or fifty years. He possessed bright, dark eyes that darted quickly from face to face in the crowded throne room. He was a clever man, if not a wise one; he knew which way the winds were turning, and he would set the sails of his life and career accordingly.

He finished his recitation of the law as Mara had asked, and he bent to kneel on the floor, touching his brow to the marble tile and raising his hands in supplication—to the princesses, it would appear, though Mara still held the power to decide his fate. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, and he stood, more quickly than his apparent age might allow. He backed away, holding his empty hands palms-up as though he were offering a gift. He let the gathered mass of noblemen envelop him, and I was certain he intended to disappear.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XIX: The Palace, Still Standing

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In the throne room, the windows were little more than arrow slits; the last line of defense between the king and an invader from the sea. But as the sun filtered through and cast bright lines on the marble floor, the throne stood empty. Salmacha was now without a ruler. Perhaps, I thought, it had been without for a long time before my harpoon finally slew King Sondassan.

The weapon lay quiet across my legs as I sat at the base of the dais, beside Hamilcar and his crew and a good distance from the twin princesses. Having done its duty, it was content, and projected to me a sense of accomplishment. It was pleased with my actions. There would always be more tyrants, more men willing to spend the blood of others on power for themselves, but for the moment, the work was complete.

I’d held an enchanted weapon only once before: the Sword of Heaven, the tool of the god Torr, who had taken my Khalim from me. It, too, had approved of me. I’d used it to slay the great worm as it laid waste to Phyreios, and I had gladly given it up to the custody of Jin and his temple.

I would call my harpoon Storm, I decided, for the thunderclap I had heard as it destroyed King Sondassan. Having spent the early part of my life upon the roof of the world, I had great respect for storms. They could destroy a ship just as easily as they could fill its sails; lay waste to a village as easily as water its crops.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XVIII: In the Hall of the Dead King

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Sondassan fixed his gaze upon me, but it was not I who would first face the half-dead king’s wrath. As Hamilcar and his crew entered the room, they descended upon the priests, knocking them down and silencing their chanting. Soon, only the sound of the heaving earth and the clashing of steel remained in the room. I recognized Halvor and Kelebek, both armed with curved swords and small round shields. With them were Issa and Adama, a pair of brothers from the southlands, Issa with his dark pate shaved bald and Adama’s hair twisted into a mane of tiny braids. Their swords came in matched pairs, one in each hand. Halvor also carried my harpoon on his back. Languishing in the dungeon, I had thought I would never see it, nor any of my companions, again.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XVII: The Hollow Chamber

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I held the unlocked manacles close to my chest and kept my head bowed, being led as I was to the slaughter. For all I knew, I would be sacrificed at the end of the tunnel. I had received no news since Mara Suryan had promised me she would try to contact my companions on the Lady of Osona and prepare a daring escape. I feared she had not been successful. Or, perhaps, she had decided that my death was an acceptable loss for the sake of the lives of her young charges. I would not fault her for that.

Ajan led me through the bowels of Salmacha. Behind me walked two other guards, mailed and armed as he was, to prevent my escape. They were unnecessary—the way back led only to my cell. The only way to go was forward.

Silence fell upon the corridor. The digging had stopped. Beneath my feet, the earth tensed and trembled; not quite a quake, but the warning of one. Whatever slept under the island was close to waking. If it did, all hope was lost.

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Journey to the Water Chapter XVI: Betwixt Iron and Stone

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The young man’s question lingered in the still air of the dungeon like a memory, or the smell of blood. I wanted to shout that I was nothing like King Sondassan, that my quest was selfless and righteous and far from an old king’s desire to live forever, but I held my tongue. The less the king and his high priest knew about me, the better.

What I said was, “I would never sacrifice the lives of others. I risk only my own.”

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Journey to the Water Chapter XV: Under Salmacha

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The man in the glittering black crown smiled at me, a paternal, placating expression that did not hide the devious hunger in his eyes. Whatever his purpose was for me, I was certain I would not like it.

“After months of delays, the gods smile upon our city at last,” he said. “Where do you come from, champion? What thread of fate brought you here?”

I stepped back from the bars and crossed my arms over my chest. “If there is a task you wish me to perform in exchange for my freedom, then give it to me. I have no time to waste lingering here.”

“In due time, my friend.” His smile did not fade, and the flickering light of his torch deepened the shadows on his weathered face. He appeared carved of wood, a sinister spirit of the forest.

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