Windward shore, p.24
Windward Shore, page 24
part #3 of The Dancing Realms Series
I clambered over a coil of rope and a few empty crates and made my way to the back, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brantley and Makah following us. Part of me wished he wouldn’t attempt the journey. He could tear open his wound. He should be resting and recovering from the fever that nearly took his life. Still, I shielded my eyes and scanned the river. But the frequent bends and outcroppings made it impossible to see a great distance. The raiders stayed away from me, and once I’d had my look, I returned to the center of the craft, sitting on a bench seat with my bare feet in the puddle that pooled in the bottom. Eyes closed, I listened for the rhythm of the coursing water but didn’t coax it any further. In fact, I wasn’t sure what would happen when we reached the rock cliffs by the Order. If the current didn’t slow, we could be smashed against the stones.
Your heart finds new worries with every turn.
The gentle voice of the Maker seemed tinged with humor. He knew my tendencies. He knew me. But instead of rebuke, I heard His invitation to trust Him more deeply. Ignoring the rough, heavily armed people around me, I closed my eyes and lifted my arms. “Thank You for guiding us,” I whispered. “Thank You for caring for each person, including those on the foelands and on this veskal.”
A short way up the channel, as near as I could tell, we passed the outcropping where Brantley had mentioned the village of Shadowswell, where River’s group was recruiting and training new dancers. I hoped that Tangleroot was making progress sending messages of warning to other villages. Maker, help families see the truth. Open their eyes so they don’t surrender their children to a life of striving and abuse.
A flash of white drew my eye. A dancer perched on a ledge above us, scanning the channel. When she spotted us, she turned and ran inland on light feet. Off to inform River, no doubt. Would the opposing dancers ruin this whole precarious plan?
For the rest of the trip, Cole kept his distance from me, apparently satisfied with my performance. His back-slapping and animated conversations with the men and women of his raiding team showed me that if they had doubts about his choices until now, he’d won their respect today. And Cole’s fondness for his people was evident in his manner. He crouched to help a young soldier bind feathers onto an arrow and eye whether it was straight. He passed a cup of water to a woman standing watch with a pole.
I rubbed the sore spot on my face that still stung from his blow. Ally or enemy? Brother or foe? The thoughts sloshed through me like the water moving forward and back with each tilt of the deck. I didn’t know. Couldn’t know. Time would tell. I turned my thoughts to trusting the Maker and made my way forward to Cole.
“Captain,” Danless said sharply, warning him of my approach. Not that an off-balance, limping pregnant woman was able to arrive stealthily.
Cole’s expression flattened, and he waved Danless away. “How much farther, dancer?”
I’d forgotten. He didn’t know much about the center of our world. Cole was a rimmer, born and bred. And in his time, there had been no river to hasten travel inland. He’d probably never ventured far from Windswell.
Instead of answering his question, I gripped a railing near the prow for support and lowered my voice. “How will you keep your men onboard while I recruit dancers? They can’t be allowed to raid Middlemost or the Order’s storerooms. You’ll need to keep them on the craft.”
Cole gave a grin—almost as disarming as Brantley’s, though I was far from ready to trust it. “You certainly do like to give orders,” he said. “Does Brantley know that about you?”
I paused. I’d never seen myself that way. If anything, I was overly compliant from all my years as a novitiate. But he was right. Since discovering the Maker’s letter, I’d sometimes been insistent on a path, zealously demanding my own way. Too much so?
There had been times when the Maker’s purpose was clear, when He had guided me on a specific, if implausible, path. Sometimes that path included pain and loss, but He had been faithful, and the blessings He unfolded made the struggle worthwhile. But there were also times when I’d leapt into action only to find the way blocked. I’d been sure I was meant to raise the foelands and that it would bring peace to the people—until Brantley pointed out that I was wrong to believe the work rested solely on my shoulders.
Cole cleared his throat. “How much farther?”
I blinked and looked at him. His mouth slanted in a hard line, but his eyes held a bit of a twinkle. Unless I was imagining that. I sniffed. “At this speed, we’ll arrive soon. But you didn’t answer my question. How will you keep your people on the veskal? You can’t allow them to raid. I promise I’ll have the dancers bring supplies. We don’t have gems or weapons to offer, but we’ll bring food, cloth, salves.” I was already making a mental list. Ginerva would help me collect spare items quickly. A peace offering of sorts. Enough to get us back to Rogue’s Aerie without Cole’s raiders deciding to completely pillage the Order or Middlemost.
Any humor I’d imagined in Cole’s eyes disappeared. His hand clenched over the hilt of his sword. Another gesture that brought a pang, as it reminded me so much of Brantley. “My clan will follow my orders. Just don’t let on that the Order is offering gifts freely. They need to believe it’s a raid.”
“Fair theft,” I murmured.
Now Cole grinned in earnest. “You’re learning.”
Far from reassured, I returned to the center of the veskal and immersed my feet in the water again. The soothing rhythm of the voice of the waves dragged my eyelids down. When had I last slept? A tiny rapid beat joined the chorus. What other piece of the world was I hearing now? Not the trees that we swept past. Not the stony ridges that rose as we went farther inland. Not the birds flitting away at the sight of the strange craft.
I gasped. Deep within, I touched the bouncing, joyous beat of my baby’s heart. My own pulse speeded, although it could never match the pace of hers. I sat taller, strengthened by awe and wonder. I longed to shout my thanks to the Maker, but instead I whispered. “You create worlds and people. Your gifts are amazing. Help me remember Your love when I’m afraid. Help me trust.”
When we reached the large pool, right before the final bend, I dipped my hands into the shallow deck water and let my arms move in a soothing, calming rhythm. But there was no need. The current had already slowed, and we glided to a perfect stop right before the channel ended. Cole’s people threw more glances my way and muttered darkly, distrustful and afraid.
Fear echoed in my own heart as I squinted up at the sliver of sky. Our arrival had not gone unnoticed. Soldiers from the Order lined the cliff above us, swords drawn, shields reflecting glaring sunlight. I glanced at Cole. With no way to let the saltars know the plan, how would we avert disaster here without dropping our mask of animosity before Cole’s raiders? The soldiers on the ledge feared a real invasion.
Around me, a few of the Rogue’s Aerie raiders raised their bows. They also expected an armed battle, welcomed it, even. I took a halting step toward Cole.
He faced his men and raised his arms. “Stand fast. No need to attack. We have a different weapon here.” In a quick, smooth motion, he slid out his longknife and pressed the blade against my throat. “They’ll give us anything we ask while I hold this hostage. I’m going alone to demand tribute. Just be ready for my return.”
“What are you doing?” The whisper escaped, although I dared not move my throat against the sharp edge. My darkest fear was realized. Betrayal. Not only against me, but Brantley. His brother’s evil would break his heart.
Cole signaled two raiders to place a plank from the side of his craft to a large boulder that marked the rocky climb upward.
One of the young raiders stepped toward him. “Sir, you can’t go alone.”
Danless jutted his chin, a cunning gleam in his eyes. “Let him. Far be it from us to question our commander.”
Cole and his second-in-command deserved each other. Plots within plots. I strained against the knife, fighting to slow my uneven breathing.
“Guard the veskal. No one—” Cole raised his voice. “No one sets foot on shore.”
Danless crossed his arms. “And if you don’t return?”
Cole laughed. Did it sound forced? “Oh, I will. And I’ll bring treasure. Count on it.”
With Cole’s knife never far from my neck, I limped across the plank, glad for my years of balance training in the Order, then began the arduous climb up the ravine. Behind me, Cole sauntered, swaggered, and waved back at his raiders. However, once we reached the top, he gripped me tightly, blade once again pressing my skin.
“Make way, or this dancer’s blood will paint your stones.” Cole’s grim voice chilled my soul. The soldiers inched toward us but held back, unsure. Many of them knew me. Most had seen me confront the Order and dance as the Maker freed Meriel. Cole was smart. I was a useful hostage.
The standoff stretched, until a flurry of movement from the Order courtyard drew everyone’s attention.
Saltar Kemp emerged, followed by other saltars and attendants. “Don’t harm her. What do you seek?” Her voice carried authority but held a shrill edge that hinted at her panic.
Cole drew in a satisfied breath. “Inside. And keep your men away from the cliffside.”
“Yes,” I squeaked. “They’ll fire arrows—weapons—if they feel threatened. Please keep everyone back for now.”
At the entry of the Order, Cole’s grip on my arm tightened. He breathed against my ear. “Can you guarantee my safety?
“As much as you can guarantee mine. You’re the one holding a knife.”
That made him look even grimmer. “Lead on.”
We made our way inside and into a small rehearsal room near the front door. “We’ll speak with you alone,” Cole demanded of the high saltar.
She waved away the hovering soldiers and attendants, then drew herself to her full height and glared at Cole. “What do you want?”
Once he was sure we were alone, he withdrew the knife from my throat. I sagged with relief and stumbled away.
He pointed the tip my direction. “This dancer of yours has a plan.”
Perhaps I wasn’t a hostage after all.
Saltar Kemp’s brow knit together, and she looked at me. “What’s happening? We haven’t seen the signal to move Meriel away. Then we saw this veskal traveling against the wind.”
I spared an uncertain glance at Cole, still half convinced his treachery hadn’t been an act. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Get on with it. My men won’t wait forever.”
I faced Saltar Kemp. “High Saltar, this is Cole of Windswell, Brantley’s brother who we thought dead. It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in, but while we talk, could you ask the attendants to gather supplies?”
“So this was a ruse?” Kemp clearly distrusted him as much as I did.
“Cole is a son of Meriel. He’s helping us.”
“So why hasn’t Brantley given the signal to move Meriel away?”
I took her hands. “The captive women from our rim villages have been rescued. But before we go, there’s something else I believe the Maker is calling us to do. I want to bring other dancers to the foelands.”
She stared at me as though I had become a stranger. “You want to risk dancer lives . . . risk Meriel itself . . . for what? What do you hope to accomplish?”
Maker, help me explain. Choosing my words carefully, I told her of the voice I had heard, of the underwater land bridges, and of the suffering I’d witnessed. It took precious time, but she listened without interrupting. Hope swelled. She had once danced in the center ground. Perhaps she’d heard the voice of Meriel during those years—why had I never asked?
When I had finished, Saltar Kemp walked to the window overlooking the gardens, still not speaking. After an agony of moments, she shook her head, and my heart sank. Still, I prayed silently and waited for her to speak. I’d said all I could say.
She turned to face Cole. “How will it help their situation to lift their islands and bring back the land bridges? Would not access by land simply make it easier to raid each other’s villages?”
He scratched his head. “I never fully understood the legends. But my sense is that all the foelands are dying. The land grows smaller each year—even in the time I’ve been there we’ve lost shoreland. And there are fewer and fewer children.”
I huffed. “Probably because they harass every woman who gets pregnant by kidnapping her back and forth between clans.”
Cole shot me a glance. “I think it’s more likely that with raids being the only interaction between isolated islands, most marriages occur within the ever-shrinking clans. And even those don’t often produce children.”
I tilted my head. “So perhaps the bridges will forge new relationships and make intermarriage more likely.” I shrugged. “We can’t really know all the answers. For me, it’s enough that the Maker stirred this in my heart and the people clearly need help.”
Saltar Kemp frowned. “Enough for you, but we can’t spare dancers.”
“Move aside! I have to see Carya.” A familiar voice rang from the outer hall. Kemp rubbed her temples but opened the door. “Let her pass.”
Starfire raced into the room and hugged me. “I was so worried. Rumors are going crazy. Someone said you were held captive.” She held me at arm’s length and scanned me.
“I’m fine.”
Her gaze shifted to Cole, and she released me to stride over and confront him. “And you are?”
I hid a grin. Starfire’s voice held all the arrogance of a high saltar but with none of the decorum. “He’s Brantley’s long-lost brother. It’s a complicated story. But we’re here to gather volunteers to dance on the foelands.”
“And I just explained we can’t spare anyone.” Saltar Kemp’s rigid posture hadn’t softened.
“I’ll go. And I’m sure some of the novitiates who aren’t yet working in the center ground could be spared. Or you could promote them now to replace dancers you send.”
Kemp’s lips parted, momentarily taken aback by Starfire’s outburst, but I saw the thoughts playing behind her eyes as she considered the possibility.
“You truly believe the Maker has called us to aid these people?”
“Yes, but we have to move quickly. Cole’s men are held back by his orders, but if we don’t return soon, they’ll attack. Even if the Order’s soldiers hold them off, blood will be shed.”
She nodded slowly. “It might be possible. But I won’t ask any dancer to join you in this plan unless she understands the dangers and chooses freely.”
Starfire tossed her head. “Of course. We won’t have a problem recruiting dancers willing to help Carya.”
I gave Starfire another grateful hug, then turned to Cole. “Let’s get your spoils of war onto the veskal.”
He grinned. “Too bad I didn’t have you along on my other raids.”
With Saltar Kemp’s agreement, things moved quickly. Several dancers and advanced novitiates agreed to accompany us to Rogue’s Aerie. Cole oversaw the delivery of supplies to his people but kept me close, making sure his men could see him on the clifftop still leveraging his valuable captive. As we gathered at the top of the path and stared down at the waiting veskal, I nibbled a fingernail.
Dancer Iris stepped close and touched my shoulder. “This will work. And if it doesn’t, we’ve lost nothing in the attempt.”
“Unless”—Starfire edged closer to me and lowered her voice—“Cole doesn’t plan to let us leave.”
The threads of doubt in my mind wove themselves into an ugly tapestry. What if? I had to admit I’d questioned his motives each step of the way. “He’s Brantley’s brother,” I said firmly. “He won’t betray us. We just have to make it appear that he’s conquered us so his raiders won’t challenge his leadership.”
A few other dancers shook their heads, uneasy.
“If any of you don’t want to come along, please speak now.” I looked around the group. Faces glowed with the dancers’ typical earnest desire to serve. Eyes met mine, bright and determined. Familiar fear pressed down my shoulders.
Oh, Maker, I don’t want to lead others into danger. Is this the right path?
His quiet voice reminded me that I was not doing the leading. I was simply called to follow Him.
Starfire squeezed me. “It will work. We’ll be back here before you know it. Oh, and I asked a friend to join us.” She nodded toward the outer courtyard.
A young drummer hovered shyly on the steps, carrying his instrument and a set of rhythm sticks. He cleared his throat. “Starfire thought I could be of assistance.”
Starfire scampered to him and pulled him closer to the group. “Carya, this is Pondin.”
The lanky lad hunched his shoulders, freckles dotting his already-rosy skin. Auburn hair spiked from his head. He offered an awkward smile. “Happy to help if you can use me.”
“Of course!”
He nodded, full of eagerness and then directed his smile at Starfire, looking for her approval.
“I’ve also asked Aanor to come along,” Starfire said.
Pondin’s grin drooped, and I turned from his crestfallen face to hide my smile. Did Starfire know the turmoil she was causing? Probably not. We’d been so immersed in the belief that affection was not allowed to dancers or those attending them. But that was the old Order. Starfire would have some new issues to navigate in the coming days.
“Star, we can’t bring Aanor. Cole needs to convince his people that he can use dancers to help his clan, but they won’t trust him if he brings along enemy soldiers.”
Cole had been shouting instructions down to his men, who were packing the veskal with loads that attendants had carried down. Now he turned to the cluster of dancers. “Ready? Make it look good. You’re terrified captives that I’m going to use to control the winds.”
I’d explained our ruse, but even so, when we made our way down to Cole’s veskal, they hesitated. Cole’s men looked just as hesitant.
Cole stepped aboard, grasping a rope near the mast and addressing his men. “I told you she was a valuable hostage. To avoid harm to the bearer of the victory child, they’ve surrendered all this bounty and these dancers.”
