Aweige

[StonerChic]

The title is just some random word that was in a dream I had that sparked this story/book, it's just my temporary titling. I think it will have to be a book. This is just the first few pages, I'm not really a writer or have any asperations to be a serious, career writer. I just had a dream that was about a kindom on a sea and was bored the next day so decided to spin off some time writing a story about it. I don't know how long it will take me to write it all, but I'll add the pages as I go along. Just thought I'd share what I had so far. I'm sure there will be many rewrites and alterings before I'm done, if you have suggestions of what will make it flow better or make more since, i'd love to hear them. Who knows, maybe I'll publish this one after all. I kind of like it so far, and my husband has been bugging me to write and publish one of my stories for years now.


the story is the first responce below this, it's too long.

[StonerChic]

“It’s because the king is infertile.” The old woman said “He wanted to set a precedent to prevent problems should it ever happen when a King had no clear heir. So he adopted the three most promising male children in the kingdom, one being the original crown prince, the king’s nephew. But he is not the crown prince now, now he is second in line. I hear it causes much court intrigue among the princes.”

“If they were just children when adopted how did the king choose?” She asked

the old woman looked at her for a second, “ ‘Cause those three were all born with the Touch of the royal line strong in them- Sympathy & Empathy. If you be having any feelings you don’t want them to know about then don’t let them Touch you. And if you be in any position to be used, stay far away. With the Touch of Empathy they can know anything you be feeling, and with the Touch of Sympathy they can make you feel anything they want.”

“Oh!” WOW “thank you for your time and your telling, Wisewoman”

Flairen eased out of the room and wound her way through the general traffic to a quieter area at the edge of The Kingdom where she could stare into the endless ocean. The Kingdom on the Sea was an amazing structure, part boat, part raft, part building, wholly a marvel as there had to be some hand of magic in it’s making. The size of a very large island, but not as large as a continent, still massive for that it was not a natural structure. It rose stories out of the ocean, made of a blue-gray material that reminded one of a mix between metal and wood, cool and hard to the touch like metal, yet never heating in the sun, and faintly yielding to the touch like wood. Somehow, for all that it was obvious The Kingdom was not of natural origin, it screamed of the sea, belonged to the water, as did its inhabitants.

Flairen was one of the few, perhaps only as far as she knew, who did not. How she came here she did not remember, but she remembered land. Land, as much a fable in The Kingdom as this ocean bound city was a story told landside on rainy days to children sitting fireside or in taverns, an interesting tale to pass the time, by those whose sister’s husband’s cousin’s stepson-in-law’s sailor friend’s captain claimed to have seen it once.

Land

She dreamed of land. Of bright green beneath her bare feet and sticking up between her toes. Of rich, dark velvety brown dirt that you could mold with bare hands, like sand but unlike sand, would keep it’s shape when dry. She dreamed of such things, of playing in dirt, and running through grass and climbing tall trees. When she woke she would stay so still, barely breathing, trying to keep the dream of land from shattering and fading just a bit longer. To know the sight of real green and brown just a moment more. Not the faded blues and greens and grays and browns of the ocean and The Kingdom, but the vibrant colors of land in her dreams. As much as she wished to hold onto her dreams she would not miss the sunrise each day for any thing.

As now she sat and watched the dawn creep over the water, the pale false light giving way to the beauty with which the sun announced it’s reign of the new day. She sighed as she let the last vestige of the nights dreams fade away, and got ready to face another drear, ocean filled day.

……



The inside of the room was dim and slightly dreary. There was a fire lit in a fireplace that released as much smoke into the tavern as out, and one couldn’t be altogether certain the tavern in Commick had seen better days. It had the hodgepodge feel of something hastily built and barely kept together since.

A man’s laughter echoed off the odd acoustics as a sulky, raven-haired barmaid wrenched herself free of the rowdy group of sailors.

Lisle quietly ordered a glass when she paused to address him on the way back. He sat at a small table in the corner, silently contemplating information he had gleaned in the past few weeks spent in the city. Commick as a good-sized city and a main port in the known world.

Every sailor in the known world, and probably more then a few not, set down in Commick from time to time. If there were information to find about the seas it would pass through here. So why couldn’t he find what he wanted? What he needed to go any farther. Some hint at coordinates. Some whisper of reality. All the stories were so similar that each could have stemmed from the same original telling. All knowledge just an echo of what he’d been told before. Told since he was a babe.

His father’s father had been a sailor, before he met and married an innkeepers daughter and only child, and settled down to learn the business and raise a family. Before he settled though he sailed on the fabled En Gardard, She Which Was Meant, it was a term for destiny, particularly a man’s destiny in a woman. As the seas had always been seen as a female of sorts, for sailors it was a term for a man’s destiny on the water. It was not the first ship to carry the name, nor the last, but many claimed it was the most fated.

The official story was that En Gardard left port, unknowingly headed straight into a hurricane’s path, reported by those ships just far enough out of the path to eventually find land again. En Gardard, nor any aboard were ever seen again.

Lisle had seen the ship’s and the hurricane’s courses in records. It was true that they would have met and collided at the worst of the hurricane’s run. It made since that the ship, and everyone on it, would have been decimated. But that’s not the story his grandfather had told.

His grandfather, who had been second mate on the En Gardard that trip, said that the captain had weathered enough storms at sea to know this was not one. Grandpa said his captain was a smart man, and a born sailor and knew when to fight the sea and knew when to run. And that trip he ran. It wasn’t to be, however, because there wasn’t one, but two twisters in the water and the ship twisted and turned like a top itself, even far out from both originally they were born in between the two. Somehow against odds they kept their precarious position and road between the two for days or weeks, no one knew. When one of the storms finally broke loose the other one died sudden like. Like it was just feeding off the first and without the fuel ceased entirely. They found themselves dumped on strange calm waters.

Lisle had poured over the records of the storm. He had researched and questioned and found more then one weather scholar who admitted that it made more since for the giant hurricane to have been two smaller one’s instead. The backlash from the storm had never matched what should have been generated from a storm as big as the path effected and eyewitness accounts and reports had indicated.

Granddad claimed that after they found themselves on calm waters they had slept all day and spent all night reading the stars and trying to ascertain a position. “But they weren’t our stars, boy” his grandfather still shook his head in wonder. “Nothing like our stars, how’s a man to read the skies when they aren’t the right skies?” grandpa had pages and pages of stars he had drawn and charted on that trip. Somehow held onto, and passed down to his grandson. Lisle had spent years trying to match the stars to known charts. Trying to find any way to know where those skies had come from. He had even worked ships bound for crazy destinations and insane whims of others and charted new stars, never before charted. His additions to the charts had earned him pay here and there at major cities, especially once he was established as trustworthy in his charting. None had matched any part of his grandfather’s, though. The problem was that he had no direction, and no distance. He could have calculated possible distances if his grandfather had even a more solid definition of time. As it was, he was staring at a very frustrating black whole in his information, again.

He spent a few more weeks in the city before taking work on a ship headed to the Kalanaisles. It was a string of unusual islands that were rumored to have been raised from the seabed through the magic of the first inhabitants, ancient sorceresses whose decedents still occupied the islands today. The islands were all shaped very close to simple geometrical shapes. One was a square, one a circle, one a triangle, and one a parallelogram.

His mother had been born and raised on those islands and her mother still lived there. That was the main reason he had hired on for this voyage, as he always did whenever he got the chance to visit his grandmother.

They came into view of the islands now. Several of the men gave the sign against the unnatural. All had to admit it was uncanny how evenly spaced the islands were. Other then the spacing there was nothing odd about the way they looked from the sea, and as he had never seen them from the sky he couldn’t make any conjectures. However from walking them he did know they did have the basic geometrical shapes, but just how accurately, he had no idea.

[StonerChic]

After docking he meandered his way around some of his more favorite areas of the main, circular island. He knew his grandmother would be busy until close to dinnertime, so took his own time as he went. Revisiting and reacquainting with those who lived on the islands, several of whom he was related to. One such was a tall and sturdily built forge smith named Beunto. The relation was distant; their grandmothers had been first cousins, so they shared a great, great grandmother. He stopped by the forge by Beunto was not to be found.

Disappointed Lisle started for one of the taller tower buildings that served as lodgings for most of the Kalanaisles' "sorceresses". The name sorceress was the formal title for the women that made up the highest level of institute of the Islands. As a child he had been certain those women, especially his grandmother, really did have magic. He used to try and trick his mother into betraying their secrets with the crazy antics of childhood. It never had worked, and as he grew older he had, naturally, come to realize that magic didn't exist.

Nevertheless, the Kalanaisles were well and widely known for their tutorage and unbiased counseling to individuals and the various governments of the known world. The Kalanaisles and their sorceresses claimed total neutrality. Some unknown number had come to the islands to learn. Most were turned away. Men were almost never admitted, so that for the most part only those born to the Kalanaisles lived here. Even with sailors so common females far outnumbered the males.

Lisle shoved his hands into his pockets as he strolled down the well-used dirt road towards the tower. He glanced around as he went. The fruit tree behind the main inn had been cut down; the stump hadn't been hauled away yet, looked like lightening. He remembered sneaking fruit from it in the middle of the night on a dare once when he was younger. Mistress Anney had owned the inn then. He had been sure she or the help would all wake up and skin him alive for his crimes. He greeted Clarsa, Mistress Anney's daughter, as he passed. She'd taken over the inn from her mother years back when she married another of his cousins and a childhood friend. He thought she looked like she might be starting to show with their third child.

"How's your mother?"

For a brief second concern etched across her brow, quickly replaced with a welcoming smile, "She is. Your grandmother told me she was expecting you, have you seen her yet?"

"No, not yet. I was heading that way just now." Now his own brow furrowed, his grandmother had been expecting him? "Saw your tree looks a little worse for the wear."

A rich, deep voice boomed out from behind Clarsa, "Yeah, silly tree had a bit of a bout with some lightening. Lightening won."

Lisle laughed as he was enveloped in a bear hug, "Poor tree."

Lisle was certain Beunto had grown since the last time they'd seen each other. Beunto was gigantic. He towered two heads over Lisle who already stood a head above the average man. Beunto was sturdily and powerfully built with brown-black hair and eyes so dark it appeared there was no irises, only large pupils against the white. His skin was pale and Lisle knew from experience that skin seemed unaffected by the sun, neither burning nor darkening no matter how much time spent outside. Lisle's grandmother had once said Beunto was a throwback to her grandfather, Lisle & Beunto's shared great, great grandfather.

"Speaking of trees, how are you doing?"

Beunto clapped, beat, Lisle on the back as he laughed. "Good, good. What about you, cousin?" Beunto asked as Lisle staggered a few steps before regaining his balance.

"I'm good. Just passing through. Thought I'd see how Grandmother was doing."

"She was saying to expect you by soon." Beunto gestured in the direction of the island's main tower. "I'm heading that way, want company?"

"Of course." Lisle looked around to say good day to Clarsa and found she'd left sometime during his and Beunto's reunion. He'd make sure to drop back by before he left the islands, for politeness' sake.

The two men walked in comfortable silence, each lost in childhood memories and musings sparked by seeing the other. Beunto's steps were silent as ever, Lisle thought absently. Beunto never seemed to go through that awkward bull in a china shop phase that so many tall men went through during puberty, Lisle included. Was that another throw back to their ancestor?

His grandmother sat behind her desk and looked up expectantly as they were shown in. Not the least surprised to see them.

Lisle quickly strode forward and took her offered hand. Briefly kneeling (a custom to show loyalty and respect) before hugging her to him and feeling long familiar arms return the embrace.

"How is my favorite grandson fairing these days?"

Lisle laughed, "Do I have a brother I don't know about? It hasn't been that long since I saw mother!"

"You never know, and how are you today Beunto?"

The smell of stew and fresh bread permeated the tower and by the time they had reached Lisle's grandmothers chambers both men's stomachs were complaining, loudly. The page that had escorted them in giggled by the door as Beunto's stomach answered for him.

Beunto coughed gruffly in an attempt to cover the noise, "Very well Sorceress Ivrat."

"I can hear that." She returned with a smile. "Shall we visit over dinner?"

Ivrat led the way to the dining area off her rooms while the page trailed behind to serve. The meal had already been set with three place settings. Word traveled swiftly in the towers.

Some time later saw Lisle alone in his grandmother's sitting area. He always thought how formal it was compared to her other rooms. Most of Ivrat's rooms favored strong and bold designs, concise lines and neutral colors accented by the silver blue his grandmother favored. This room is what Lisle imagined might be found in a Royal Court. Filled with deep purples, vibrant reds and dark blues. Nothing here was neutral or quite. The walls hung with tapestries of superior workmanship and floor covered by deep, almost purple, mahogany wood that appeared to seamlessly flow up to frame the ornate fireplace that took up almost the entire northern wall. Lisle could have walked right into that fireplace without ever having to lean down. Several expensive and plush rugs covered the floor, each with intricate designs and sporting rich colors. The furniture seemed to be made from the same wood as the floor, so much so it had to all come from a single tree, so little was the color variation. A massive single tree, Lisle mused; this room was meant to impress, and intimidate.

In here his grandmother was none but Sorceress Ivrat. Third in the chain of command of the hierarchy of the Kalanaisles. With a good chance of some day being first. She looked like you might expect a real sorcerers to look, Lisle thought absently as he waited for her to join him. Sorceress Ivrat had blonde hair kept long, with no hint of gray as is it hung, brushing against her shoulders and down a back that, despite the age Lisle knew her to be, was completely straight. Insuring the advantage of her full height, taller then most men. She had dark- permanently bronzed skin with piercing tawny eyes framed by striking, hawk like features over a straight nose that hooked slightly at the tip. Ivrat was the personification of most storytellers' sorceresses from ancient times. As much as Beunto resembled a storyteller's wizard, Lisle supposed. Even as his cousin was a throwback to some never met ancestor Lisle had to look no farther then the next room over to see his own roots.

He shared his grandmother's height and blonde hair, his almost bleached to white by too much time spent in the sun. From that same sun his skin baked so dark as to be called by the brown-black of his cousin's hair. His own nose was larger in his face then his grandmothers, with the hook more pronounced and the green-blue of the sea, a gift from his paternal grandfather, starred out of the same hawk-like eyes and boneset. His jaw was square where his grandmother's own face shape was more pointed. Overall many seeing them together would assume he was her own son, not the child of her child. Part of that, Lisle thought as Ivrat glided in, came from how well she had aged, or hadn't aged to be precise.

[StonerChic]

the next part will spin on with him talking to his grandmother, who is of course a real sorceress and knows about his obsession with the kingdom on the sea, and will need him to go there for some reason, probably something to do with the king and his heirs and their special abilities. Beunto will go with him. Who will turn out to be a real wizard, as their great, great grandfather. but the book hasn't talked about yet if the wizards are the male contemporary you sorceresses or if they are a different race and sorcerers are the male form of sorceresses, I'm thinking different race. Of course when they find The Kingdom on the Sea they will meet the girl from the start of the book, who will also get involved with the royal family somehow.

Just so that I don't leave you completely cut off there, I just haven't spun that part of the tale yet.