The whispers of the wind, p.1
The Whispers of the Wind, page 1
Copyright © 2022 Abigail G. Thompson.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.
ISBN: 9798784825681
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021924768
Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Front cover image by Abigail G. Thompson.
Book design by Abigail G. Thompson.
Printed by Ingramspark, Inc., in the United States of America.
First printing edition 2022.
Ingram Content Group
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The Whispers of the Wind
To the ONE that never leaves me no matter the adventures I go on. LORD, You’re the only answer to my loneliness and for that I’m thankful.
“For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised
and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.”
-Isaiah 53:2-6 (ESV; English Standard Version)
Prologue
Emma Ambrose flung out her arms over the ship railing, and nearly tumbled to her death. Despite it, Emma loved the sensation. It felt like when her mama rocked her to sleep, whispering sweet lullabies in her ear.
Emma squeezed her ocean blue eyes shut and felt the lulling beneath her toes. Her grin was wide as the expansive top deck. She flung out her arms and let the boat sway beneath her feet. She let the ship rock her wherever it liked. It was a game she loved.
“Emma, what are you doing?” A soft, watery voice croaked from behind Emma’s swaying frame. She spun around with laughter on her lips.
“Mama, look! I almost have as good a pair of-”
Her exclamation died on her lips as she saw the stains of water on her mother’s face. Emma’s eyes roved over the rest of her, her little mind spinning with questions and nightmares. Then, she saw the rest of her mama’s pale pink dress was dry; her feet were bare, mud-caked to the soles.
Momentarily, she stared at the mud before her eyes found the rip.
The shoulder of her dress was ripped, and bruising lined her delicate ivory cheek. Tears welled in Emma’s eyes at seeing her typically beautiful mama in such disarray. Her game forgotten, she rushed forward and hugged her mother around the waist; her mother didn’t respond; she just stood there as though numb to affection.
Normally, when Emma cried, her mother would wipe the tears away with a smile and kiss her nose. “Normally,” in Emma’s world. Something was wrong, and Emma could sense it in her belly.
“What’s wrong, mummy?” Her words were muffled in the pink dress. No response.
“What’s wrong, mummy?” She whined.
Mama always asked her what was wrong when she was sad, and her mommy was sad.
“Mum-”
“Emma, shut up! Can’t you see I’m thinking!” Her mother snapped, pulling away from Emma’s clingy arms. Shock coursed through the young girl’s figure as air met her. She stood and stared. Another burst of tears came out in short sobs, causing her chest to heave. Confusing fear roiled in her tummy, and she didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t seem to stop. Her mama never snapped.
Why was she angry?
The thought wouldn’t leave her be. She had always
been curious, flitting from one crew member abroad her
father’s stately ship spouting off questions as fast as she could
think of them. The questions always seemed to endear her to
people, and they would ruffle her hair and say, “You’re gonna be the north star of this ship, ain’t ya?” She didn’t know what that meant, but she would grin and nod her head in a vigorous way that caused part of her braids to slip free. Surely mama wasn’t mad at her.
Mustering a plucky amount of courage, Emma stood as straight as a wooden board.
She mouthed the words repeating themselves over and over in her mind. She knew she wouldn’t be happy until she had the answer.
“Why are you so angry?”
Her mother growled before answering.
“Emma, sometimes people don’t want to talk and answer your stupid questions! Leave me be, go to your cabin.” Her mother’s voice cracked by the end; Emma could hear the tears. She didn’t want to listen to her mother cry. Out of her fear, she raced to her cabin and slammed the door behind her.
Her cabin was tiny, a little box with a bed and a trunk full of sea-stained dresses and frayed ribbons. Her petite frame raced for her bed, and she jumped onto her chained to the wall mattress. Fresh tears streamed down her freckled cheeks.
Why was her mama so upset?
The question still pranced through her mind. A while after, after fits of tears and the shakes, she fell asleep discontent. The bruises along her mother’s jaw sauntered
their way into her dreams. How had she gotten them? Had she slipped and hit herself on something? Emma sometimes fell.
The following day Emma awoke with the sun as always; the rays peeked through the hole she counted as a window. Her tiny blue eyes opened, and hope fluttered in her chest.
Maybe her mama would tell her what was wrong? With a hopeful grin, she shimmied out of her tear-soaked dress and threw on a new one, her best one. Maybe her mama would be open to telling her secret if she looked pretty.
Her braids had fallen out, but she didn’t know how to braid, so she let her hair fall free around her shoulders, and after a quick brush, her locks flowed around her petite shoulders.
She unlatched her door and raced down the hall. In her hurried excitement, she ran into a sailor.
“Eddy, have you seen my mama?” She asked breathlessly. The sailor’s big, bulky frame intimidated the average man and child, but Emma knew different. The sea-worn face broke out into an endeared grin when he saw the sprite of a girl sprinting down the hallway.
“No, miss, but you look pretty on this fine day.” She smiled at the compliment and gave a wobbly, crooked curtsy.
“Thank you. I was hoping mama would like
my dress.” Eddy shook his head with a grin spread across his rough features.
“I’m sure she’ll find you soon. I’d check with Water Breaker.” The formal name for her father always made Emma uncomfortable. She didn’t like her father much: he was stern,
strict, and scary, but she still nodded her head thoughtfully. Sweetly she reached up on her toes while the big sailor got on his knees. The little girl kissed the sailor square on his rough cheek. The innocent peck always made the sailor blush. He almost felt ashamed to receive such affection from such an innocent child.
He was dirty, done dirty things, and yet here was a
pure child who loved him without hesitation. It was enough to
make him tear up on an occasion.
He cleared his throat of emotion.
“Well, you better get on your-”
“Emma.” A deep voice broke through the sentimental moment. Eddy spun at attention before bowing ceremoniously.
“Water Breaker. I did-” Emma’s father waved his hand dismissively as the man stuttered an excuse.
“I don’t mind you doting on my daughter Edward. My daughter does have a way with people.”
The slight smile he gave was the only show of affection for his young daughter. Eddy gave a succinct nod before looking to the ground.
“I’ll be going, sire,” the man mumbled.
Mingus Night Ambrose, also known as Water Breaker, only nodded his stately head before moving to Emma.
Mingus had a professional sort of relationship with his only daughter. He never catered to her whimsical desires. He never squatted before her, never understood the term “getting on the child’s level.” Logically, it made sense for the child to rise to the average man’s level. His wife had been foolish to cater to the girl.
“Come, Emma. I must talk to you.” Emma smiled. Her father rarely sought her out. Mama had always said it was due to how busy he was with his duties as a Clan Leader. He held out his hand, and Emma gladly took it before asking her question.
“Where’s mama? I’ve been looking for her.” Water Breakers’ lips tightened before saying, “That’s what I must t
I tell you more.” Her father, always direct, headed for her cabin at the
end of the hall. Once they had entered, he lifted her by the armpits and set her down on her mattress. He turned his large frame back to the door and latched it shut. His eyes were serious, his lips stern; he stood before his five-year-old daughter with her completely trusting eyes.
The eyes that told him how adored she was, not one care weighed on her pretty shoulders.
Those eyes… the Clan Leader’s chest tightened; he cleared his throat.
“Your mother, Emma.” The words stayed in his throat. How? How was he supposed to tell her?
“Your mother is gone.” He started abruptly. Emma’s face twisted in confusion.
“Where did she go? When will she be back?” The questions so innocent caused tears to pool in the back of Water Breakers’ eyes. If Marina had just kept to her own business of raising this child, he wouldn’t have had to stand here breaking their child’s heart.
“She’s not-” he cleared his throat. “She’s not coming back, ever.” He stated directly.
Emma’s thick brows lowered; her expression turned stormy. Her face mimicked waves amid a
horrible storm. She didn’t say a word; she just
stared. She didn’t cry; she just stared.
“Emma, aren’t you going to say anything?” He asked.
The girl looked at him and felt the bitter anger in her gaze. He knew she didn’t understand what she was feeling, but the look said it all.
“I had a question.” As she said the words Emma’s voice was tight with unspoken emotion.
Mingus blew out a breath.
“Questions bring answers, darling, and answers bring pain.” He kissed her on the temple before standing and walking out of the cabin.
For months, Emma didn’t speak. She made a vow to herself that she wouldn’t talk until her mother returned. Emma stopped going up to crew members, her eyes were forlorn, and her skip was all but a glide.
Emma’s thoughts were dark and lonely. She would lay in her cabin and sob, but no one would come running to kiss her nose.
One night her moans became especially
rough, grading on the walls and the window. The
door latch unhooked, and the door slid with a creek
across the floor of the ship.
“Emma.” The voice was calm but firm. Emma sat up in her bed, her eyes puffy from such horrendous crying.
Her father’s firm footsteps moved to sit on the edge of
the youngster’s bed. He reached for the young girl and placed her in his lap.
“Why are you crying?” He asked.
It greatly troubled him that the crew had reported her crying as such multiple times. The girl didn’t speak, only sniffled. Her father looked at her sternly.
“I won’t help you unless you speak to me. I know you
aren’t mute.” His words brought another rush of tears to the
girls’ eyes. Mingus, never one for comforting, awkwardly
rubbed his daughter’s back.
“Speak to me Emma, I miss your voice.” Emma looked up at him, her eyes filled with so much sadness.
“I-” She croaked.
“I-I miss her.” Her voice was rusty from
disuse. Mingus Night Ambrose hugged the girl close to his chest and let the tears that had been building fall. He didn’t fight them. He let them fall silently.
“I miss her too,” he whispered. Emma sniffled and snuggled closer. The night wore on, and Mingus stayed with his daughter, for they were a comfort to each other.
Even after such a betrayal they symbolized they weren’t completely alone when they lay next to each other, father comforting daughter. After that day, Emma started speaking again. Her glide turned into a prancing, and her eyes learned how to be light again. Emma never did stop missing her mother and how she would kiss her nose. Emma never forgot the bruise lining her pretty jaw, but she never questioned why. After all, answers bring pain.
That’s all she needed to know; her mother was gone all because Emma was stupid enough to want answers.
Her father was right. Her father was always right
Chapter 1
Fourteen years later:
It was cold. It was awful. And it was precisely what Emma deserved for betraying her father. Hopefully, the numbness in her feet would spread to her heart so it could stop its anxious dance inside her chest. Sometimes feeling was a curse. Calmly, she told herself it was useless to worry what Summer Eyes, the Clan Leader of the mountains of Aiyana, wanted. Tragically, Emma could only remember all the stories she’d read on the powerful woman.
This only caused her anxiety to spike; it also gave her anxious thoughts ammunition against her. The Clan Leader’s steady and intimidating eye could bend even the most stubborn man’s will. Her heart skittered.
It wasn’t that she was cruel, she was just driven. Or at least that’s what Emma told herself. But even Emma knew they were lies. Her anxiety didn’t believe her platitudes. That was the wretched thing about being anxious… it didn’t believe you unless you were telling the truth.
She told herself to just focus on putting one step in front of the other. The snow crunched beneath her cracked
boots. They were too big, made for a man, but the peddler
didn’t have women’s boots, and Emma hadn’t needed the clunky shoes before. Living on the sea, where the weather was always warm and a salty spray tainted the air, had its advantages. Carelessly, she’d run barefoot, not bothering with shoes because the seawater tended to ruin them.
Emma breathed in, her lungs burning with the frozen air. She tried pulling the scraggly scarf closer to her raw, red face, which stung as the wind blew across her skin.
“You’ve got this,” she told herself, even though nothing seemed alright.
The sky was a clear, almost a taunting, blue. Emma didn’t understand how the sky could be clear and the sun shining when the ground was covered in the annoying, cold, wet stuff called snow. The sun was supposed to bring warmth, but it seemed to be failing at its job.
Just another step. One more, and then another after that.
Her foot dropped farther into the snow.
“EEEH!”
The cold, wet, mushy ground came up to meet Emma. She put her arms out to catch herself.
“Oomph.”
Her hands nearly froze off at the contact with the frozen ground, further numbing her fingers, which were growing stiff from the cold.
Cursing as she pushed herself to a sitting position.
Her clothes were all wet. Her clothes were all wet.
It was all her mind could focus on. Tears started to sting the back of Emma’s eyes.
“You will not cry. It’ll make your cheeks burn,” she told herself, forcing herself to get to her feet. The wind started to blow.
“I did something, didn’t I, God? You find it humorous to torture me!” She stumbled before being able to continue. She blew on her thinly gloved hands, trying, and failing, to warm her frozen digits.
After five more minutes of painfully, torturous walking, Emma started smelling smoke. Did she dare hope… no, that was foolish, but the smell of burning wood was growing with every step. Hope flopped in Emma’s chest like a fish that had just been caught. She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling. Warmth. That’s all she wanted was warmth. Her speed increased, and soon she could see the bustling camp. It was a vague outline in the beginning, but it was there, and it was real. Emma would have whooped for joy if the base didn’t signal the worst part of this awful journey.
The letter was probably crumpled and wet after her fall. However, it still sat in Emma’s pocket, reminding her of her horrifying purpose.
The carrier had had a grim expression when he handed the letter to Emma. Nervously, she had scrambled for it hoping it was from her father. That hope had been futile, much hope was vain, but she never seemed to learn. Never.
Summer Eyes wanted to see her for reasons
that remained unknown. Emma may be a Clan Leaders’ daughter, but that didn’t mean she had any right to deny a
