The Road To Cordia



  THE ROAD TO CORDIA

  A Cancordian Adventure

  Book 1

  By

  Jess Allison

  Copyright 2013 by Red Dog Pub Publishing

  All rights reserved

  ISBN: 9781301073528

  Originally published by

  Red Dog Pub Publishing

  September 2012

  Cover design by Darkdawn Creations

  www.darkdawncreations.com

  Ebook Formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  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

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  PROLOGUE

  They were on her father's boat, the Ta'Serc which meant "courage" in Cancordian. It was a perfect day.

  Warmed by First Sun, the air flowed gentle as a mother's kiss. Overhead, seagulls dipped and swooped as they caught the shifting air currents. The wind came out of the west at a nice gentle blow. Even the ocean cooperated, rolling gently under the ship's hull.

  Ja'Nil was ten years old that year.

  Her father was at the helm, the big wheel steady in his hands. Her little brother Yonny sat quietly for a change, drawing pictures of sun fish with a sharpened piece of charcoal on crumpled brown paper.

  Next to him their mother calmly mended one of the nets.

  Suddenly the wind shifted, and picked up force. Dark clouds blew in and covered the sun. The gently rolling ocean was first transformed into low chops, and then into waves high enough to splash over the sides.

  Ja'Nil's mother shot her husband an anxious look. He grinned and winked at her. She smiled back at him.

  Ja'Nil wasn't afraid. She trusted her father and she was a pretty brave kid: everyone said so.

  "Better anchor the brats," said Daddy. His voice was relaxed, a man who knew and loved the sea. He was in his element and not at all worried.

  Yonny was already wearing his harness. Mama attached the guy rope that would keep him safely aboard.

  "Daughter," she said, looking over her shoulder, "tie on," and then the world changed forever.

  Ja'Nil had barely finished attaching the guy rope when a wave twice the height of the Ta'Serc, a monster thrown up from the deep, appeared on their port side.

  Frantically, her father spun the wheel, trying to turn into it. But the Ta'Serc was just a fishing boat; speed of response had never been her strength. The monster, horribly dark, its crest a sickly yellow, loomed over them for what seemed like forever, before crashing down.

  Ja'Nil's scream was lost in the storm's rage. Tons of water rammed the cockpit and streamed over the deck, washing away everything not tied down.

  Knocked off her feet, Ja'Nil was swept almost to the aft gunnel, only to be jerked to a sudden stop. The harness she wore tore into her shoulders, cutting across her stomach and stopping her breath. The guy rope strained to the breaking point. Tons of water crashed down, pinning her to the deck, filling her mouth and nostrils with breath-stealing, thick-tasting sea bottom water.

  The weight shackled her arms and legs. She felt as if she was being crushed to death. Then it was over. She took a deep, shuddering breath of pure sweet air and staggered to her feet.

  Mama and Yonny clung together near the bow. Daddy was still at the helm. He had tied himself to the wheel.

  Suddenly, even above the noise of the storm, there was a loud snap.

  "Alf'Ggard," Mama yelled, pointing at the towering mast. Two feet above its base, a jagged crack had appeared. Oh, God of the Circle, the wave had broken it, and now the heavy timber leaned slowly towards Daddy.

  "Alf'Ggard," screamed Mama again. As Ja'Nil watched, her father tore frantically at the rope that tied him to the wheel. Where was his knife? Ja'Nil started towards him.

  "Stay back," he yelled at her, just as the thick, heavy mast crashed down onto him.

  "Daddy!" She scrambled over the broken deck to his side. It had fallen across his chest, pinning him, and at the same time, had also shattered the steering wheel. One of the spokes, broken off into a razor sharp point, was sticking out of her Daddy's side. Bright red blood pumped from his chest to mingle with the rain and wash over the broken rail.

  "Can you move it?" Mama yelled.

  "What?"

  "Move the mast!"

  Ja'Nil tried. God of the Circle knows she tried. She clawed at it, pushing and straining.

  "Use your gift," Mama cried.

  The storm still crashed against the Ta'Serc, heeling it dangerously from side to side. Now thunder, along with whipping wind and lightning flashes, pierced Ja'Nil's closed eyelids. She couldn't concentrate.

  "Ja'Nil," Mama called out, screaming to be heard over the sound of the storm, and Yonny's terrified howling. "Get in the dinghy. You and Yonny. Tie yourselves in."

  Ja'Nil just looked at her.

  "Do it," ordered Mama.

  "But Daddy… "

  "I'll help him. You do what I say."

  Ja'Nil crawled across the heaving deck to get to her little brother, while Mama crawled the other way. Before Ja'Nil could reach Yonny, the boat gave a peculiar lurch.

  "Mama," said Yonny, his voice filled with horror.

  Ja'Nil looked back to where he was pointing in time to see another wave, not even as big as the first one, lazily slop over the railing. It caught Mama in a lover's embrace and carried her off into the hungry sea. All the while, Mama's eyes were locked on Ja'Nil.

  Did Mama scream? She must have, but Ja'Nil didn't hear her. She couldn't even hear her own screams over the sound 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 warmed 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 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 care
fully replaced the squiggling 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 neither 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 again. "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 Sildy. "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, she was to work with the village weaver. Both she and Rog were months younger than Ja'Nil, but they would be full citizens while she was officially still only a child.

  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?" she said 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 he safely could, 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 clenched into fists, her voice was unsteady.

  "Ooh," 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 descend slowly, giving them plenty of time to scream out their terror. The drop 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 angrily away.

  "Hey," called 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, and 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 a sudden swirl of movement, the sound of excited voices, a man yelled, someone cried out, stopped her headlong flight. She hesitated, then turned back to the village. Something was wrong.

  ***

  That night the villagers gathered in the Temple Lodge, the largest building in the village, 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, it shimmered with beauty, the heart of the village. At night, under moonlight, it glowed as softly as pale smoke.

  Built wide and welcoming, the front doors were painted a deep green with gold highlighted designs of the Lord's Circle etched across both doors. When they stood wide open, it was like being invited into His own home. On feast days the priests would come and hold services at the rich green and blue altar that stretched across the far end of the hall. During the day the sun would stream through the narrow clerestory windows. These 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 was housed elsewhere.

  At night, lying on her cot, Ja'Nil could look out and see the stars clustered like magic lanterns, winking and watching over the sleeping world, ready to report to the Lord of the Circle if anything seemed amiss.

  There was plenty amiss tonight. One of the villagers, a woman named Chou, had been badly injured.

  It seemed to Ja'Nil that all the inhabitants of the village had manage to pack into the lodge. Everyone in the village was an Earth Person.

  Occasionally people of other races would pass through. Ja'Nil had seen several Cloud People, and once a troupe of Sky People acrobats had come to the village during market day and put on an amazing performance.

  The other races fascinated her. It was hard to think of them as real. She preferred the way her own people looked. Earthers had rich, smooth, pale brown skin and green eyes. Except for the old people, they all had dark glossy hair, usually straight but some, like Ja'Nil, had curly hair. She wore hers short.

  Earthers' ears had small lobes and pointed tops. Ja'Nil's clung neatly, close to her head, unlike Sildy's. Sildy's ears stuck out like little pointed jug handles.

  Earthers were generally not tall people, although Ja'Nil's daddy had been, and so was she. It made her self-conscious; unfortunately it was not something that could be hidden, and she was still growing. She also had big feet. All in all, not a good prospect to be someone's first wife, or even second wife.

  Just turning spring, the evenings were still cold. At night a fire usually burned in the hall, but not tonight. With so many people crowding in, it was positively hot. The only ones not present were the injured woman's family. Even Aunt M'eer was there.

  Her aunt wore an ankle length dress with a rich-looking red and green over-tunic, belted loosely with the best grade Eller hide. As usual, she glared at everyone around her. People were careful not to catch Aunt M'eer's eye. Her mostly white hair hung in a long messy plait down her back, her skin was sunburned and tough looking. She had the usual Earther pointed ears, but the right one sort of slumped over.

  Ja'Nil, being careful to keep out of her aunt's sight, stayed at the back of the room.

  Everyone in the hall tried to speak at once. Angry and scared, some seemed despairing.

  For her part, Ja'Nil was mostly hungry. Neither she, nor Sildy nor Rog had eaten dinner. The families they usually ate with were all present, clamoring to be heard. After the meeting, it would be too late; the families would return to their homes, close their doors and forget about the pesky orphans.

  Ja'Nil tried to sidle around the edges of the crowd. She had a quarter loaf of black bread in an old wooden box hidden under her bed. That and water would have to do for tonight. If she could get to it before Sildy saw it, she wouldn't have to share.

  "We have been abandoned," sobbed one woman.

  "We must petition the Queen," said a man. This was at least the third time since the meeting started that someone had said that.

  Elder Jo'Oner cleared his throat. He always cleared his throat before he spoke. His little green eyes narrowed with annoyance.

  "That has already been done, Fisherman Ty'Ner, he said. "As you know, we have sent three missives to the Queen's representative. There has been no reply."

  "What sort of Queendom is she running anyway?" muttered another one of the villagers.

  Some people edged away from the speak
er, not wanting to be associated with any statement that might be considered treasonous. Others grunted agreement.

  "Maybe we should send a messenger directly to the Queen's Palace in Cordia," said Fisherman Sam'El.

  Ja'Nil was astonished. All the way to Cordia? Who would make a trip like that? She herself had never traveled beyond the village. To her, Cordia, the capital of the country, was like one of those fairy tales mothers told their children, peopled with imaginary creatures like Queens and Nobles and Princesses.

  Thank the Lord she didn't have to go. Ja'Nil never intended to leave the village. Most of all, she never intended to get into another boat ever again. Not even a rowboat.

  "Go to Cordia?" said Elder Jo'Oner. He looked appalled. The room grew silent.

  Ja'Nil, who had almost reached the door to the sleeping room, found herself wedged against the wall by Fat Thom'm. She couldn't fit behind him. She would have to go around in front.

  Fat Thom'm was so startled by the idea of going all the way to Cordia that he stopped leaning against the wall and straightened up. Ja'Nil quickly slipped behind him. She could almost taste the waiting bread. Her stomach growled loudly enough for Fat Thom'm to hear. He looked at her. She ducked her head shyly. His gaze raked her up and down then turned away, uninterested.

  Fine, with me, she thought. Even to be a first wife, she wouldn't marry Fat Thom'm.

  More people spilled through the lodge doors. "She's dead," a woman screamed. Someone else started sobbing.

  "Chou's dead. My mother is dead," cried Lee-Uno.

  Ja'Nil shivered. Death again. At least this time there was a body to consign to the flames. Chou's spirit would be able to rise easily with the help of the cleansing fire and smoke; her ashes would be buried deeply in the comfort of rich mother earth. Still, too many Fisherfolk had died lately.

  All of a sudden Ja'Nil's Aunt M'eer moaned. Then she raised her arms to the ceiling and screamed with grief. There was a stunned silence.

  "They were lovers, you know," said the town gossip.

  Her neighbor snorted. "Everyone know about M'eer and Chou. Unnatural I call it."

  "The Lord of the Circle says all love is sacred," recited the gossip self-righteously. Her neighbor just sniffed.

  Now M'eer was sobbing loudly while, Lee-Uno, Chou's daughter screeched at the Elders.

  Why is emotion so noisy, wondered Ja'Nil all the while keeping a careful eye on her unpredictable aunt.

  "It's your fault," Lee-Uno screamed at the Elders.