A Warrior's Dance

VIII – Masks and Scars

Sanne and Daisery had known each other since they were babies. Friendship naturally occurred to them and they were inseparable ever since. Like the usual people of the island, Daisery had brown skin, her black silky hair were cut short, barely touching her shoulder. She had a small face with pointed nose, skinny but taller than Sanne and had little resemblance with her older sister, Avery.

As per valkan’s tradition, weddings were to be celebrated for a week long. Days were for feasts and games, while nights were spent in the small fighting pit, where warriors drew their weapons to fight.

Now that the wedding celebration ended, Sanne looked up the starry night through her wide window, not allowing the tears in her eyes to fall. A day before, her father told her he would need to accompany Captain Raq on a short mission and needed to leave the island. She insisted going with him but Hilmer ordered her to stay with dear old Nang- Daisery’s handmaiden.

She felt all alone and lonely, knowing her father and her bestfriend were somewhere far from where she was. She suddenly remembered the excitement in Daisery’s eyes as she blurted the news to her.

“Father said I can learn how to fight like a valkan, soon enough!” Daisery said proudly. Her purple dress lightened her skin, her hair messy. “We’ll be riding their ships. It’s Captain Raq’s gift to our family.”

Everyone knew the valkans were territorial. They wouldn’t just invite men to ride with them. Their ships were their home, the seas were their continent.

“Will you be really going with them?” Sanne asked, hearing a tinge of envy in her own voice.

Daisery smiled at her. “We’ll be back soon, silly! No need to be sad, San.”

But she felt completely sad, feeling out of place in her own island. Old Nang was already fast asleep in the chamber next to hers, her snores reaching Sanne’s ears. With a deep sigh, the little red-haired girl climbed out her bedroom’s window, reaching the thick branch of an old tree. Since she was bit short in height, she had to exert a lot of effort to navigate without falling, or her father would surely scold her if something bad would happen.

As Sanne landed on her feet to the ground, she began to stroll, walking the same path going to the heart of the forest. But before she could even reach the tree house built by her father, she heard hushed voices from a distance. Curiosity filled her mind and her feet started toward another path leading to Lady Avery’s house. Blending into the shadows, Sanne tip-toed to peek through the window.

Lady Avery was with her husband, Nari, and from the look of it, they were consummating the marriage. A dimmed lamp illuminated the room and Nari’s shadow had a distorted figure on the wooden walls. Avery had a frown on her eyes, as she bit back the sob she was trying to contain. Her husband wasn’t aware of her tears, though.

Nari explored his big hands on Avery’s body as he kissed her with force. Realizing what was happening, Sanne’s eyes grew wide as she ducked her head down, covering her mouth in shock.

The kid wished she didn’t let curiosity get the best of her. Moans and sobs reached her ears, freezing her in place. Sanne heard Lady Avery’s pleading for the man to stop but her cries continued, anyway.

Footsteps echoed the silent night and Sanne tensed, afraid she would be caught peeking to a private affair. Her father had scolded her many times about imposing to one’s privacy.

“Worry not, Timeth, everything’s working according to my plan.” The owner of the voice looked like an old man, half his face was covered in black mask.

“How about your daughter, sire?”

“Don’t mind her. Just make sure to deliver my item tomorrow. We’ll have to do it while the captain’s away.”

The stranger men passed by the house, silence trailing behind them.

Sanne couldn’t understand what they meant with that but she figured it wasn’t her business. With a deep breath, Sanne slowly ran away, making sure no one had seen her.

****

Azaiah stayed in Barren island, to his dismay. He had been looking forward going to Port City where he could get a view of the famous Crimson Palace. He remembered his mother and her stories about the place. He wanted to see it himself but his father made him stay in that Heaven-forbidding-island. What a waste!

Or maybe, not so much, as Sanne accompanied him in his uninteresting day. To turn his day okay, he brought Sanne to his trysail only to be surprised once again. The red-head girl knew how to sail at her age. He knew people from Barren tribe could man a boat but he didn’t expect her to be one of them. After all, little girls in valkan were forbidden to lead a sail as it was man’s role. She smiled and laughed the whole time but when they got back to the shore, her lips were on a thin line.

“Can I ask you something?”

Aza turned to where the voice came from. Sanne was trailing behind him, her hands clutching a smooth stone. She didn’t mind the hem of her dress that got soaked in the sea, sticking to her legs. “Go, ask away.”

“How did you get your scar?” she asked. A rope was tied around her waist, holding the shabby blue dress to fit her.

They were strolling around the shore, waiting for the sun to set.

He composed himself. “I am born with this scar.”

“Oh.”

Azaiah gazed toward the wide sea, knowing that the far end was connected to the infamous forbidden water, the Sea of Elora. “Do you get scared by just looking at it?”

Sanne shook her head, as if he sounded utterly crazy. “I just know, because father says so, that they have stories. I wonder what’s yours.”

“That is true,” Aza replied. “Scars symbolizes bravery. The real story of this is unknown to me. But Gared says that maybe in my past life, I was a hero fighting in a battle and people don’t know my story. So now, in this life, I carry this scar to let them know my history.”

Valkans were a believer of Sun God, therefore, they believed in resurrection and reincarnation, just like how the phoenix rose from its ashes.

“Some of the maids can’t even stare too long at my scars.” A smidgen of irritation crossed the lad’s face, remembering one of their newest captive. “Other races see it as a curse. What a fool.”

Sanne took a deep breath and let her feet wander on the rough sand. Waves teased her, reaching out her toes but would draw back before it touched her skin. Daisery told her about the captive-turned-maids culture of the valkan tribe.

“Lady Avery isn’t fond of captives,” she said after a while, unable to cast away the tension and nightmare she saw the night before. “In a way that she don’t want any act of slavery.”

Aza took out his cutlass, letting the blade shimmer under the sun. “I don’t think she can do anything about it. Women don’t have a say in our ships.”

Sanne’s eyes grew wide, unable to hide her disgust. “But why?”

His eyebrow creased but a curve graced his lips, her too many questions started to amuse him. His sister Vera wasn’t allowed to talk too much to elders. And this little girl beside him, the odd girl who didn’t even came from a well-established family, questioned him.

“That is our way,” Azaiah answered. “Their role is to please men, nothing more.”

That hit a nerve. Sanne frowned as the image of Lady Avery getting forced into a kiss filled her mind. Unknowingly, she balled her fist, tightening her hold of the stone.

“Women can have brilliant ideas, as well, Azaiah,” she muttered as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe valkans should start to learn the importance of women. We can be warriors too!”

“What did you say?” he asked defensively.

Sanne stepped closer to him, eyes narrowing. She still couldn’t mute the moans and cries of Lady Avery in her mind. “Women are more than just a pleasure. Is that how you see your mama? Just like that?”

“Of course not!” Aza spat, nose flaring. Now he looked scary, his face distorted with anger.

“Thought so,” Sanne whispered, taken aback. She distanced herself again and quietly walked away.