ROAD TO CORDIA Read online

  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

  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

  THE END

  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 h
er, 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.

  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.

  It seemed to Ja'Nil that all the inhabitants of the village were packed 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 Ja'Nil. It was almost hard to think of them as real people. She preferred the way her own race looked. Earthers had rich, smooth, pale brown skin and green eyes. Except for the old people, they all had dark glossy hair. Most had straight hair, but some, like Ja'Nil, had curly hair. She wore it short. Earther’s 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. She tried to hide them with her hair, but then they stuck out through her hair.

  Earthers were generally not tall people although Ja'Nil’s daddy had been tall and so was she. She was self-conscious about her height. 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 a second wife.

  It was just turning spring, so the evenings were still cold. Usually, at night there was a fire in the hall, but tonight, with so many people crowding in, the hall 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 was glaring 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 sun burned 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 was trying to speak at once. They were angry and scared, some were 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 was trying to sidle around the edges of the crowd. She had a quarter loaf of black bread in an old wooden box that was pushed under her bed. Bread and water would have to do tonight. If she could get to the bread before Sildy saw it, she wouldn’t have to share.

  “We have been abandoned,” sobbed one woman.

  “We should petition the Queen,” someone else said. 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. Ja'Nil could see his little green eyes narrow even smaller 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 speaker, 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.
<
br />   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 the fairy tales mothers told their children. It was 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.

  There was a commotion at the large entrance doors. “She died,” a woman screamed out. Someone started sobbing.

  “Cho’s dead. My mother is dead,” screamed Lee-Uno.

  Ja'Nil shivered. Death again. At least this time there was a body to consign to the flames. The dead Cho’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 Earth mother. Still, too many of the Fisherfolk were dying.

  Ja'Nil’s Aunt M'eer moaned. Then she raised her arms to the ceiling and screamed. There was a shocked silence.

  “It’s your fault,” Lee-Uno screeched at the Elders.

  “My dear, woman!” Elder Jo’Oner was shocked.

  “Nonsense,” said Elder Ban’Et. “You’re overwrought.”

  “She would still be alive if we had a healer.”

  Ja'Nil doubted it. Cho’s chest had been caved in when she fell between the bow of her boat and the dock.