Page 41 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
Apattar turned to her sister, who lounged on the upper deck, only a thin towel between her and the muck-stained wood. The sun illuminated her deep, ocher brown skin, glowing as if set on fire from within. She looked so radiant. A divine grace surrounded the plump maiden.
Ninann opened one sea-foam green eye, staring at Apattar before closing it again. “You will do no such thing! We are almost there. I want you to see it with me for the first time. Adon says the Eldest Children themselves carved the white arches spanning the Iri’e River. And the floating islands, raised by the Goddess Nehsan herself and blessed by Isnehari the Weaver! Can you imagine? It must be more beautiful than any words could capture.” Excitement colored every word, Ninann almost breathless from speaking with such a rush. Apattar sighed and feigned a smile as she nodded.
“Yes, yes. You’re right Inann, it will be stunning I am sure. But promise to never make me travel this way again. It is so… simple.”
Ninann snorted in reply. “And your portal sent you to a ruined island and almost claimed your life. At least this will not get us hurt or lost.”
Apattar could sense Ninann’s concern, but it only angered her. “One time, Inann,” she shot back. “One time, and I got myself out, thank you. Not all of us can be perfect.”
Apattar huffed and turned away. Why did she even come? Because of some vain hope she could run away from her problems, pretend she didn’t see the way the Shadow-weave consumed Therat until he would vanish? She might control it now, but luck would not last. Maybe Laisha was right. Maybe Therat was the key to her future. She would find him, dominate him, and lead the man to the West and a future unknown. Anything else that she felt was a delusion.
A hand tugged at her elbow, Ninann now standing behind the woman.
“I’m sorry, my sweet Atta. I didn’t mean to imply… I worry about you. You are at war, I can tell. Stuck between two futures that cannot exist together. I-I can’t imagine what it’s like. I want you to come with me, but I cannot force you.” Ninann’s eyes pleaded with Apattar, the mesmerizing swirls of blue and green impossible to deny. Apattar pulled her lighter half in close, squeezing the soft rolls of fat padding her sister’s waist.
“WAVE INCOMING!”
The man’s shout startled the twins, who dove down to the deck in a flash.
A massive wave crashed over the side of the ship. Cold water and foam sprayed over the upper deck. Droplets of water rained down, tiny pellets of bitter cold finding every spot of flesh not covered by Apattar’s thick cotton cloak. Her stomach lurched. The morning’s meal threatened to come up with each subsequent wave crashing against the ship. Darting her eyesaround in a panic, Apattar scrambled under a table bolted to the wood deck, pulling Ninann with her.
A man dressed in stained blue pants stood on a table behind them, arms raised to the sky. He shouted something incomprehensible between the crashing waves, lips moving with furious speed. A blue glow emanated from within his eyes. An orb of crackling energy formed around him, pulling the man up into the sky. Lighting streaked over the outside of the orb, a dazzling display of white, silver, and dark blue lights. Shaggy white hair stood straight up with the energy pulsating around the man. He lowered his arms and pushed them forward. A stream of blue light burst forth while thunder boomed overhead.
Apattar’s vision went white. When it returned, bright cerulean blue painted the skies above, the sea calmed once more. Devoid of sound, the world seemed to collapse under the stark silence. Then, with a thunderous roar, a chorus of voices rose from the main deck, their broken words of “Kirean… best… drunk tonight!” breaking through the clamor.
Apattar crawled out from the table and pulled the thick cotton cloak tight, shivers wracking her thin frame. Her gaze swept across the ship, surveying the damage from the colossal waves. Briny water mixed with fish guts and oil from toppled barrels flowed over the sides of the deck below. Sailors scrambled to and fro. Some cleared debris while others climbed thick wooden masts—three in all—and adjusted the rigging. They shouted to each other in a strange language. Mesmerized, she stood watching the sailors work in unison, each movement honed to perfection from years spent at sea.
Heavy footsteps approached, drawing Apattar’s attention away from the main deck. She turned to see the white-haired man—Kirean, she presumed.
“Our apologies, Lady Apattar. Something angered the Maiden, but She listened to me well enough. She is a cruelmistress, but one we love and forgive. I hope you will not hold this against us.” The white-haired man spoke with a thick accent. Piety dripped from every word.
Years at sea hardened the man’s skin into a well-worn leather, ruddy and bronzed from endless hours in the sun. He looked much older now than he did a moment ago, with wispy white hair and a scruffy beard framing a face cracked with age. Eyes the color of the deep blue waters surrounding them looked back at Apattar with a soft apology.
“The… Maiden? The Goddess Aslyren? But, they are all dead, gone.” Apattar shifted her weight between both feet, trying to find balance as gentle waves lapped against the ship. The man extended a thin arm for support, which she latched onto with gratitude.
“Ah aye, you sand-dwellers do not hear your Goddess anymore. None hear the Maiden’s call as we do. She is this,” he gestured to the open sea with his free hand. “The Maiden is endless. She is the waters of life flowing through the rivers and seas, even to your little lakes in the golden sands. Others in the world call the gods silent. Aye, they all are except out here. Here, Aslyren lives still. An echo, but there nonetheless.”
Apattar’s eyes widened as she looked over the endless blue waters. The faint whisper of a woman singing floated past with the winds. She could not notice it before, mind preoccupied with what the sailors called ‘sea sickness’. But now the soft voice broke through, more beautiful than anything she had heard before.
“You hear Her now, don’t you? I know your look, they all have it the first time they hear our Goddess. Remember it well,neha.The Maiden is the only Goddess who still has a voice, faint though it may be. They have not all abandoned us.” The man’s face creased into a well-worn smile as he spoke, a fond look in his ocean-blue eyes.
A shiver crawled through Apattar’s mind. As if bitten by a snake, she recoiled from the man’s supportive arm, stumbling until the railing caught her back.
Not this one! Never her! Aslyren is a traitor, a liar! Do not listen to her sweeting songs, she claims dominion where she has none. She is Death! You are mine! You bring life, hope! Do not listen to her lies, Mireithren!
The nameless whisper wormed into Apattar’s mind, searing through all thought like liquid fire. Burning pain and bitter rage coursed through every neuron. A memory of someone from some other time, in another life, burst through the raging fires.
Six figures stand around a pillar, their forms impossible to focus on, starlight leaking from their bodies. A figure reaches a hand forward. Icy water drips to the earth below. It takes a hand, speaking in a language that sounds more like music than speech. Icy blue eyes leer out from the starlight, hatred and fear radiating from the silken voice.
A dagger with a curved white blade appears in the figure’s free hand, flickering in and out of reality as wisps of radiant gold light weave into metal. The white blade rises. The five figures in the back chant, their voices louder than thunder. The dagger slices into unwilling flesh. Pain beyond comprehension races from hand to heart, spreading with each erratic heartbeat. It is fire and ice, melting through skin and bone, freezing blood until it bursts into crystalline shards. The pain is all-consuming, erasing every thought and memory of anything else.
Apattar jerked her eyes open, sucking down the salty air and choking on tears that refused to spill. She looked at her left palm, expecting to see a bloody gash. As the shock faded, her breathing slowed, though words refused to come. She opened her mouth and closed it again, unsure what to do. The elderly man’s face grew pale and wan, eyes wide with concern—or fear?
She gathered her skirts and darted past the man, scurrying down the stairs and into the quarters prepared off the main deck. With a heave, the door slammed shut. Eyes danced around the room while her mind raced with questions. Before Apattar could think straight, the door opened behind her, sending her stumbling back into the soft arms of Ninann.
“Oh! Wha—you. I’m fine, it’s nothing.” Apattar shrugged off Ninann and strode into the room.
“Gods help me, Apattar. Do you refuse to tell me as some form of torture? Punishment? I can tell something is bothering you, you aren’t that sly.” Anger twisted Ninann’s face. It was a strange look on her.
