Authors: Jess Allison
ROAD TO CORDIA
ROAD TO CORDIA
A Cancordian Adventure
Ja’Nil’s Tale
Book 1
By
Jess Allison
Road to Cordia © Copyright 2012 by Alison Blake
All rights reserved
Published by Red Dog Pub Publishers September 2012
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
To JANE, Beta Supreme
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
They are on her father’s boat, The Ta’Serc, which is the Cancordian word for courage. She is just ten years old.
Seagulls are flying overhead. The air is soft, warmed by First Sun. The sea is low chops with the wind coming out of the west at a nice steady blow. Their boat, Ta‘Serc, cuts smoothly through the blue-green water. Daddy is at the helm, the big wheel steady in his hands. Her little brother, Yonny, sits quietly for a change, drawing something. Next to him, Mama mends one of the nets.
The wind shifts. Dark clouds blow in and cover the sun. The wind picks up. The low chops transform into waves high enough to splash over the sides. Mama looks anxiously at Daddy. He grins and winks at her. Mama smiles back at him.
Ja'Nil isn’t the least bit afraid. She’s a brave kid. Everyone says so.
“Better anchor the brats,” says Daddy. His voice is relaxed, a man who knows the sea, a man in his element, nothing to worry about.
Yonny is already wearing his harness. Mama reaches for him, so she can attach the guy rope that will keep him safely aboard.
“Daughter,” she says, looking over her shoulder, “tie on.”
Just as Ja’Nil finishes attaching her guy rope, the world changes forever. A wave twice the height of Ta’Serc, a monster thrown up from the deep, appears on their port side. Frantically, Daddy spins the wheel, trying to turn the bow in to the wave. But the Ta’Serc is just a fishing boat; speed of response has never been required of it. The wave is horribly dark, its crest a sickly yellow. It looms over them, blocking out the daylight, then it crashes down.
Ja'Nil screams.
Her scream is lost in the storm’s rage. The monster crashes against the cockpit and streams over the deck, washing away everything not tied down.
Ja'Nil is knocked off her feet and carried across the deck only to be jerked to a sudden stop as she comes to the end of the rope. The harness she is wearing tears into her shoulders, cuts across her stomach, and stops her breath. The rope strains to the breaking point. Tons of water crash down, pin her to the deck, fill her mouth and nostrils with breath stealing, thick tasting, sea bottom water. She can’t breathe!
The guy rope strains to break free. The weight of the water shackles her arms and legs. She is being crushed to death. Then it’s over. She takes a deep, shuddering breath of pure sweet air and staggers to her feet. Mama and Yonny cling together near the bow. Daddy is still at the helm. He has tied himself to the wheel.
Suddenly, even above the noise of the storm, there is a loud CRACK.
“Alf’Ggard,” yells Mama, pointing at the towering mast. Two feet above its base, the mast is separating from itself. Oh, God of the Circle, the wave has broken it and now the heavy timber leans slowly toward Daddy.
“Alf’Ggard,” screams Mama again. Daddy tears frantically at the rope that ties him to the wheel. Where is his knife? Ja'Nil starts towards him.
“Stay back,” he yells at her just as the thick, heavy mast crashes down on him.
“Daddy!” She scrambles over the broken deck to his side. The mast has fallen across his chest, pinning him to the deck. It has shattered the steering wheel. A spoke of the wheel, broken off into a razor sharp point is sticking out of Daddy’s side. Bright red blood pumps from him to mingle with the rain and wash down on the broken deck.
“Can you move it?” yells Mama.
“What?”
“Move the mast.”
Ja'Nil tries. God of the Circle knows she tried. She claws at it, pushing and straining. Not a chance.
“Use your gift,” Mama yells.
The storm is still crashing against the Ta'Serc, rocking it dangerously. Now there is thunder along with whipping wind. Lightning flashes across Ja’Nil’s closed eyelids. She can’t concentrate.
“Ja'Nil,” Mama calls out, trying to be heard over the sound of the storm, over Yonny’s screaming. “Get in the lifeboat. You and Yonny. Tie yourselves in.”
Ja'Nil just looks at her.
“Do it,” orders Mama.
“But Daddy…”
“I’ll help him. You do what I say.”
Ja'Nil crawls across the heaving deck to get to her little brother. Mama is crawling the other way. Before Ja'Nil reaches Yonny, the boat gives a peculiar lurch.
“Mama,” says Yonny, his voice filled with horror.
Ja'Nil looks back to where he is pointing to see another wave, not even as big as the first one, lazily slop over the railing. It catches Mama in a lover’s embrace and carries her off into the hungry sea. All the while, Mama’s eyes are locked on Ja'Nil.
Did Mama scream? She must have screamed, but of course, Ja'Nil can’t hear her. She can’t even hear her own screams over the sounds of the storm.
CHAPTER 1
Four years later.
Why do people do rotten things? Is it only rotten people, or does everyone have some deep down meanness in their souls? At any rate, because she was alone, and there were two of them and only one of her and no one to see, they took turns throwing dirt at her.
The first barrage missed, landing slightly to the right of her kneeling figure. Absorbed in her task, Ja’Nil didn’t even look up.
The rays of First Sun were warm on her back. The rich odor of turned earth mingled with the briny odors of the nearby harbor. Everything smelled new and clean. As she dug into the thick, dark loam, small clumps of earth clung to her fingers, working their way under her fingernails. Uncovering an earthworm, Ja'Nil pulled it gently from its nesting place. It wiggled and tickled in her dirt-encrusted hand, all pink and purple. Something so ugly, so push and pull that she was unable to make out its head from its hind. Earthworms, she had been told, have five hearts. Did that mean they hurt five times as much, or perhaps they were five times as brave? She carefully replaced the wiggling creature.
The second barrage did not go unnoticed. A hard-packed clod of dirt hit her squarely in the back. She whirled around, but all she saw were Sildy and Rog, her fellow orphans. They were busily planting the tender green seedlings, innocent as newborn grass. Ja'Nil glared at them, but neiher looked up. Finally she turned back to her own work. Behind her, she could hear Sildy giggle.
“Do you think anyone will ever ask for her?” Sildy, made sure her voice carried to Ja'Nil.
“Ask for who?” said Rog.
Sildy giggled. “You know,” she said. “Her. Ja'Nil.”
Ja'Nil's whole body flushed with embarrassment.
“Nah, she’s too skinny, looks like a boy.” He looked admiringly at Sidly. “Not like you.”
Rog’s voice was still a squeaky adolescent's, his tone contemptuous, as if it were not just this very morning that someone had finally asked for him. He was to be apprenticed to Master Fisherman Benty. Today was his last official day as a child. In the morning, his new master would pay the priests the ritual price, and his name would be written down on the rolls as a full adult citizen. Sildy was also spoken for. Both of them were months younger than Ja'Nil.
Ja'Nil could feel them watching her. Sildy giggled again.
“You’d think someone with a gift would get snapped up right away, wouldn’t you?” said Sildy in her too-loud voice.
Ja'Nil stopped her digging and froze.
“She don’t have a gift,” said Rog. “Who told you she had a gift?”
“Her daddy used to boast about it all the time. Didn’t he, Ja'Nil?”
Ja'Nil stood up slowly.
“’Course, then he went and died, didn’t he? You’d think if she had a gift she coulda done something.”
Rog, ever willing to be as vicious as it was safe to be, hesitated. Someone with a gift could be dangerous. “What kind of gift?” he asked.
“What kinda gift you got, Ja'Nil?” asked Sildy.
“He was mistaken. I don’t have a gift,” said Ja'Nil, staring straight ahead, carefully not looking at them.
“Or he was lying,” sneered Rog, who now saw no need to be cautious.
Ja'Nil turned on them. “Don’t you talk about my father.” Her hands were clenched into fists, her voice unsteady.
“Ooooh,” said Sildy, pretending to be afraid. Then she laughed.
I hate them, thought Ja'Nil. For a moment, she imagined both of them falling down into the seven hells. They would fall slowly, giving them plenty of time to scream out their terror. Their fall would take them past one level after another into the deepest, darkest…
By the Lord of the Circle, what was she thinking? To wish someone consigned to the hells! What sort of person was she? She turned abruptly.
Sildy giggled again.
Without a glance at them, Ja'Nil stumbled clumsily away.
“Hey,” said Rog. “Where are you going? You didn‘t finish your work.”
Ja'Nil ignored him.
“I'll tell,” Sildy yelled.
Ja'Nil ignored her, too.
She kept moving. If only she could move on forever. Never see any of the Fisherfolk again. Never have to face their sneers. Never again have to hear, “That girl isn't worth her keep.” Leave the village far behind. If she was going to be alone then…then…Well, maybe she should just go into the forest and really be alone.
She had almost reached the tree line when there was a sudden swirl of movement. Excited voices, a man yelled, someone was crying. Ja'Nil stopped her headlong flight. She hesitated, then turned back to the village. There was something wrong. Someone was hurt, a woman.
***
That night the villagers gathered in the Temple Lodge. The Lodge was the largest building in the village. It had been constructed from the wood of the St. Elmo tree. The bark had been carefully peeled away to reveal its lush deep golden color. During the day, in bright sunshine, the Lodge shimmered with beauty, the heart of the village. At night, under moonlight, it glowed as softly as pale smoke.
The front doors were built wide and welcoming. They were painted a deep green with gold highlighted designs of the Lord’s Circle etched across both doors so that when they were open, it was like being invited into the Lord’s own home. On feast days the priests would come and hold services at the rich green and blue painted alter that stretched across the far end of the hall. During the day, the sun could stream through the narrow windows placed high on the walls. The windows went all around the building, inviting the sunshine to illuminate the colorful scenes of Fisherfolk history painted on the walls. They even extended to the back of the lodge where Ja'Nil and Sildy, the female village orphans, slept. Rog slept elsewhere.
