Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
They had come in the early morning, from the muddy red of the sun reflecting off the water, when they could be mistaken for any old merchant ships.
By the time the warning horn rang, it was too late for them to flee. Neither the feeble elders nor the women with their rowdy children would make it far.
Sema and Sami had been standing on top of the hill that morning. They’d left early to travel to the town to get medicine for their father.
Her brother had turned around, dark hair like hers glinting in the sun. “Sema.”
Sema had put her hand above her brow and squinted.
Four, five… six. Six ships. Not merchant ships. She counted again. Six ships for their village of just a hundred homes.
They’d heard of attacks in the far north, but they had had no reason to think they would attack their own little village. What reason could they have? They didn’t have anything valuable. Yet there they were.
“Sema,” her brother said again.
“I know.” Sema took a step forward. A useless step.
Her brother stepped forward, too, hands clutching the reins of the horse. “We have to warn them.”
The wind blew in her face, carrying the salty scent of the ocean and the sound of a horn.
They would be awake now. The sun hit her eyes, and she struggled to see the streets where the people would be running now. Her eyes went to the coastline to the familiar mass of a house. She knew which one was theirs, even from here. She’d always liked looking through their window and staring at the waves. Now, she wondered why hadn’t they built it on the opposite side of the village? The ocean was dangerous.
Sema wanted to agree with Sami, to gallop down the hills on a horse and tell them to run away, but she knew it would be pointless. She didn’t have that foolishness in her.
“It’s too late,” said Sema. “We can’t do anything.”
The horn had stopped, yet she still felt its chill in her bones, shaking her core. “How could they come here? Why?”
“Father and Maria…” said Sami.
“Would want us to go,” whispered Sema so quietly the wind almost took it away before Sami could hear. She looked west, where they had been headed. Grassy hills stretched in front.
Sami was taller than her. He was only a year younger than herself, and with the labour of the village life, he had become a strong young man, but what could two people do when it came to something like this?
“If we make it to the town and report the attack, then they can send soldiers,” said Sami.
She imagined the barbarians who would run down from the ships, trampling their olive groves, slaying the farmers and bleating goats alike, crushing old Nora who never backed down, burning the bakery Maria worked at. What would they do to the women and children? No, she couldn’t think like that.
Sema nodded. “The village knows they can’t win. If they surrender the Farusians will let them live. We’ll meet with them again.”
Her hands trembled as she rushed to mount her horse. She looked back as it started to gallop. This wouldn’t be the last time she saw it. She wasn’t abandoning them. They just had to get to the town to get reinforcements, she told herself as she straightened her resolve.
They pushed their horses to their limits to make it to the town of Tlekda by nightfall. Normally, it would have taken them two days. Even then, she felt as though she had never gone slower.
The town was a shadow in front of them at night, sprawled many times wider than her village. The mudbrick wall was low enough to let them see the tops of the buildings rising two or three storeys high. Lamps flickered, still some life even at night.
She kicked her heels against her horse, ignoring its snort. They galloped over the path to the gates of the town. She’d come to the town many times before, but never at night. The gates were closed. They slid off their mounts. The horses panted besides them, sides heaving. She didn’t stop them as they laid down.
“What business?” a guard called. His head poked out from the top of the cylindrical watchtower two storeys above them.
“We are from the village of Raneh. It was attacked in the morning–” said Sami.
“You saw the attack?” asked the guard.
“Yes,” said Sami.
“Wait here.” The guard left.
They couldn’t go anywhere else.
Other guards were dispersed along the walls, more than the last time she had been here. Through the cracks of the gates, Sema saw silhouettes of huddled soldiers and their whispers carried over. She could barely make out the words.
“They already know,” said Sema.
Sami nodded.
She did not see horses being saddled or weapons being prepared.
“What’s taking him so long…” she muttered.
The wind had turned cold at night and her fingers had become stiff holding the reins, but she barely registered the discomfort. While some lanterns burned, no townspeople seemed to be in the streets. No bells rang from the towers.
“Come in!” When the guard came back and called to them again, his breath was puffing.
A singular door of the double gates opened, and Sami pulled his horse through. Sema followed.
“Follow me.” The guard led them at a brisk pace through the streets.
“Where to?” asked Sema.
“To see the council, and the governor.”
They walked through the narrow stone streets bordered on both sides by houses.
They passed the physician’s shop and Sema stopped. She almost hadn’t recognized it at night. They were supposed to get medicine for their father. She should buy some so they could bring it back when they meet again, she thought.
Sami stopped a few steps ahead of her. “Sema?”
The guard looked back.
No, they had to go to the councilmen first.
She hurried after them. “Sorry.”
The council house was near the center of the town. They navigated through more twisting streets bordered by tall houses before reaching it.
Her breath fogged the air in front of her in the chilly night.
The guard rapped the metal door knocker, and a moment later another opened it from the inside. A few words were exchanged in low voices, and the escorting guard stepped aside.
They entered.
They followed the second guard down a wooden hallway, heat building with every step. By the time they reached the door at the end Sema had sweat accumulating down back. The guard rapped his knuckles on the door.
“Come in.”
They entered the room. About a dozen officials stood around a desk. They straightened at their entrance, all gazes upon them.
“Governor Aksil,” the guard bowed.
The governor pulled at the collar of his blue robes and looked at the hearth where a fire roared. “Put it out.”
The guard nodded.
“You are from the village of Raneh?” The governor had a greying beard stretching to his chest. His eyes looked worn as though he had not slept all night either. This was the first time Sema had come face to face with a governor.
They nodded. Sema didn’t have the luxury to feel nervous under the stares of so many officials. She counted three women and seven men. Strangers. Not like home, where every face had a name.
“What news do you bring?” asked Governor Aksil.
“We are not messengers,” Sami said quickly. “We saw it.
“Saw what?”
“The ships,” said Sami. “Warships came to attack our village”
“How did you escape?” His eyes pinned them.
“We didn’t. We were already leaving.”
The governor’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
“To come here,” interjected Sema. “We had to leave early.”
“Why?”
Sema scrunched her brows. This wasn’t what was important.
“To buy medicine for our father,” said Sami.
The governor studied them for a long moment, eyes raking them from top to bottom, before coming back to their eyes. “How many ships?”
Sami paused.
“Six,” said Sema. Her voice came out steadier than she felt. The image was imprinted in her mind. Too many. How many would be needed for a town, she wondered.
The council shared looks.
“You…already knew.” Sema’s voice quietened.
“We received the news early in the day,” said the governor.
He looked down at a letter on his desk.
A pigeon would have taken less than two hours to reach the town.
Sema swallowed. “What did the letter say?”
Eyes scrutinised her. She held the gaze. She needed to know.
Perhaps the governor saw as much in her eyes, for he handed the letter to her. Sami leaned in beside her. He could not read, but he looked anyway. Not many in the village knew how to. Sema sounded out the words letter by letter, reading it too slowly. The words were messy, hastily scribbled, making it more difficult for someone like her.
Farusian ships have come to attack. I fear they will take over unless we receive reinforcements from Tlekda.
Elder Zined of the village of Raneh.
Sema flipped the letter over. It was blank.
The governor held his hand.
She handed it back.
“Why would they attack our village?” asked Sema. The thoughts came out before she could remember who she stood in front of. “I thought they were in the far north?”
“The ones in the north descended to Gunra a few days ago,” answered the governor.
Another man, younger and with a darker beard, cut him a sharp look.
The news hadn’t reached their village. If someone had told them, could they have had time to flee?
“Do you have anything else to report?”
Sema and Sami shared a look. Sami spoke for them. “We know everything about the village, we can draw all the details for you. The entrances, the coast line…”
“That won’t be necessary. You may take refuge in our city,” said the governor.
“Will you send help to the village?” asked Sami.
“We will do our best,” replied the governor. He turned to the hallway, “Guard.”
A beat of silence.
The guard entered.
“Escort them to a guest house or inn.”
“We don’t need an escort,” said Sema. “We just—”
“Now,” said the governor.
“But–” Sema tried to protest.
The guard had clutched Sema’s arm in an iron grip and was already pulling them out. She hadn’t noticed before how large of a man he was, twice the width of a normal one.
“You have to send your soldiers–” said Sami.
“This is above your understanding, boy,” berated the governor.
Sami was harder to pull. “Wait, what about—”
The corridor blurred past, then cold air hit their face.
The guard shoved them through the doorway.
Sema stumbled onto the stone. Her palms stung as she caught herself.
Sami pounded on it, but it didn’t open again.
“Cowards,” spat Sami.
The bite of the wind was sharper than the heat inside had been.
“They have to do something,” said Sema. “They’re in the middle of it.”
Sami’s face was tight. “They won’t send their men just for our village.”
“It’s not just for our village,” said Sema. Sema had never been to the towns farther north, but she’d seen the maps. Gunra was a two week trip to the north, and their village to the southeast. “If the Farusians to the north at Gunra, and now our village—”
Sami didn’t need her to finish.
“I know,” he said quietly, the anger of before washed away. “They’ll attack this next.”
The council had more information than themselves. They knew the danger. Sema looked at Sami, unwilling to say it a second time. To be the one to take them farther away.
Sami exhaled through his nose. He said it for her, “We need to leave. We can’t change what they will do.”
They’d already left their village. They hadn’t done so just to be trapped here.
“We can’t leave tonight,” said Sema.
“Tommorrow morning,” Sami agreed.
They had brought enough money to stay a day or two. They returned to the same inn where they had stayed when they came for medicine for their father, a street from the physician’s shop. It would be no use getting it now.
Sema sat on the edge of the bed and pressed her palms against her eyes. Sami lay down without undressing. The room settled into silence, broken only by the creak of the mattress.
That night, Sema tossed and turned in bed. She dreamt of beasts of men that were too large for their village streets, firelight dancing with them, as they caught the children and tossed them into the flames. She was glad when she woke before dawn, despite the ache in her body that screamed for more rest. Sami was awake too. They left early.
Hooves clacked through the streets behind as they led the horses whose ears drooped through the town, The buildings pressed close on either side and loomed over all who walked through, swallowing the wind.
Even this early, a crowd filled the town square.
Whispers rippled through it.
“They can’t take our town. It’s only a few ships, I heard. They just took over that little fishing village south of here.”
“It’s barely a village, just some houses bundled together.”
Sema’s grip tightened on the reins.
It was people. They housed families, each with a story of their own. She kept her eyes forward and blinked her prickling eyes. Sami grabbed her arm, making sure she kept up with his longer strides.
“If there’s real danger, we’ll hear of it and be ready,” another whispered. “The kingdom can have soldiers here in a month.”
A month would be a lifetime for many. All it took was one day. Or one morning.
They slipped around the crowd, making their way to the gates. She had expected to see a rush of people fleeing, leaving with donkeys and carts of their belongings, yet there was only a cart of timber rolling through.
“Should we say something?” asked Sema.
“What can we say?” asked Sami. They already knew.
He was right.
The guards at the town entrance opened the gates for them with no questions.
They mounted their horses.
Sema glanced to the east, where the sun was rising, just like yesterday.
She tugged the rein on the right and clicked her tongue.
She looked back once, to the town, its walls, the buildings rising up, the calm. She hoped it would stay like that. She turned around.
As they rode, the tight feeling that had been growing in her chest finally seemed to snap. Like an anchor left behind on that hill above their village.
The road ahead was open, hills stretching wide and far. The scene in front of her eyes started blurring as the wetness that had been suppressed finally started to leak from her eyes.
They had escaped, but it did not feel so. It couldn’t, until her family was free too.
They travelled west first, keeping far from the east coast and any enemy troops that may have wandered inland. They travelled west for a week, then they went south. A month passed on long roads and hills, short stops at villages, and brief nights of rest. The villagers would ask where they came from and where they were going. They told them the story of where they came, and for where they were going… there was only one place that had the power to help their kingdom. They were going to the cities.
They saw the city of Jirek long before they reached it.
At first, she thought it must be a cliff rising from the horizon. Only when they came closer did she see they were towering stone walls raised high with watch towers rising even higher. Looking at those walls, the only word she could think was impenetrable. Only an entrance for a river to pass through and a gate broke their protection.
She had stopped, Sami beside her.
Neither could say a word.
Streets were sprawled outside, already growing beyond the walls, alive with people passing in and out. She tried to count how many of their village would fit in those streets—too many.
The whitewashed stone of the buildings rose high, catching the sunlight so brightly she had to squint. The mudbrick houses of their village had never reflected light like that.
The city bordered a river with a bustling dock and ships with tall masts looming over. The city walls ended before the coastline, but watchtowers and a sea barrier held it under their guard. Perhaps he had been on the dock that day, or on his ship, looking out over edge, but she didn’t know him yet. They were still strangers. That day, she’d only stared in awe at the massive ships that engulfed her in their shadows.
Her neck ached when she turned it down again.
She stuck close to Sami as they entered through the walls. The guards barely glanced at them. People rushed all around her, filling the streets with buildings even taller than the town, one four-storeys high with its white-stone walls a beacon.
If only her father and Maria could have seen. It had been a month, but her throat still clogged at the thought of them. She’d bring them here, later. Once the city freed their land. They’d find a governor and tell them what was happening, then they’d do something.
The streets were wider than the towns as well, but fuller too, so they led the horses behind them.
No one looked twice at them.
She heard snippets of talk—the market—the news crier—the summer was lasting longer this year.
No talk of the Farusians.
It was another world here.
They passed by a grand inn with gilded doors. They walked past it. They went deeper in the streets until they found one with sagging steps and a door so black she wasn’t sure whether it was stone or wood. Still, the inn was twice the size of any in the town. Sema clutched her robe tighter as they stepped inside. Some eyes turned their way, before drifting away.
The price made her stomach tighten. Even the dingiest of inns in the city was more than any in their village. They had enough for one night only.
The scent of burning wood was mixed with the fragrance of roasting meat and herbs, but neither of them mentioned ordering food.
They trudged up a narrow staircase and their room. The key clicked and they entered. The earthen floor was well worn and two thin beds shoved against either wall took most of the space. Sema slumped onto one.
“We’ll have to stay here a while,” said Sami. “Untill we have more money.”
Sema’s fingers closed around the necklace circling her neck. A red ruby hanging on a thin gold chain. “We can sell this.”
“That was Mother’s,” said Sami.
Both of them had been too young to remember much of her, but Sema always imagined she’d have dark wavy hair like herself, skin that had aged and darkened to wheat after years under the sun, and sharp eyes like Sami’s, for her own were round like her fathers.
“We’ll have to sell the horses,” said Sami.
Sema bit her lip at the thought of selling Lulu. She was an aged horse, and had been small to begin with, but the long travel had taken a toll on her well. “When we go back…” Sami’s face tightened. She didn’t have to finish the thought. “Even if the city sent troops today, they won’t be able to free all the lands soon.”
“Months, at least,” said Sami. “We need a place to stay. We need money. I’ll try to get information on who we can approach.”
The city was big. They couldn’t just walk into a council like the town of Tlekda. Even there, doing so hadn’t done any good. But this was a city.
Sema nodded. “They won’t be worth much.”
“Enough for a month or two at least.”
“And after that?” asked Sema. It seemed too little. A good horse would have been double or triple.
Sami stood. “I’ve heard there’s lots of opportunity in a big city like this.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“Mikael said so.”
Sema let out a tiny breath. “Mikael said a lot of stuff you shouldn’t believe.” He had left for a northern city and never come back.
Sami looked away and mumbled. “He would’ve returned if he hadn’t found a job.”
He put the bag of items they’d gathered in their travels—a spare set of clothes each, dried food, a water pouch—on the ground and ran his hand through his.
“You’re not tired?”
Sami shook his head. She could see the fatigue from his face down to his posture.
“I’ll come with you,” said Sema, pushing herself off the bed.
He shook his head again. “Rest. There’s no need for both of us to go.”
She should have insisted, instead, she nodded. “Be safe. Come back quickly.”
Sami left and Sema fell into the bed. She held her stomach. The muffled voices drifting from downstairs and the damp air carrying the tinge of smoke disappeared as she closed her eyes. She didn’t wake when Sami returned… only stirring when he slammed into the chair she’d placed in front of the door.
“Sorry,” said Sema. It was dark outside the window. She hadn’t thought she’d fall asleep so quickly in such a new place. “Did you find anything?”
“No.” Sami exhaled. He tossed a jingling pouch of coins onto the bed by her feet. “I sold the horses.”
“Both?”
“Better to sell them now.”
He was right. They wouldn’t need them in the city. It would only cost them to keep them. Still, they had been the only other beings who had escaped from their village.
She hoped they hadn’t been sold to a butcher. The thought made her stomach churn. She didn’t want to ask. “I’ll come with you tomorrow.”
It was a week later when they returned to the docks again. This time, Sema remembered seeing him.
Sami had found a port clerk to ask for work. Sami knew how to do everything, back in the village. He could fish, he could farm, he could hunt. And everything Sami knew, Sema knew too, except sailing. They had done almost everything together.
“You don’t look like a sailor,” said the clerk, eyeing them both.
“I’ll learn,” said Sami.
The man snorted. “The ships here aren’t like your little boats, lad.”
“I’ve done harder work,” said Sami.
“Everyone here is working hard, doesn’t mean much these days.” He shrugged. “Heard the army’s recruiting, though. What with the stuff in the north.”
Sema caught Sami’s eye.
“You think they’ll come here?” asked Sami.
“Doubt it,” said the man. “We’re not as easy to take. Better to be prepared though.”
“And the towns already taken in the north? Are they sending soldiers to them?”
The man shrugged. “The kingdom already sent some, I heard.”
Sami opened his mouth.
A shout cut through the docks before the answer came, taking the clerk’s attention away.
Sema surveyed the scene.
That was when she saw him.
He was climbing off a ship, a crate on his shoulder, yet he still jumped down with the ease of someone who did it everyday. Less than thirty, perhaps, younger than many of the others whose skin had weathered from many hard years out at sea.
He set the crate down, paused for a moment, then looked up—
Brown hair gleamed copper in the sunlight, as though faded by the same sun that had tanned his skin golden. His eyes snagged on hers.
“Come on,” said Sami.
The clerk had gone.
She hurried away after her brother before the sailor’s eyes could catch her staring.
The elders had said blessings came after trials. She hadn’t known she would come to see him as her blessing one day. She’d passed by him as a stranger, expecting to never see him again. The elders had forgotten to mention, though, after blessings came trials again. It was a cruel cycle.
