A Warrior's Dance

XXIII – A Valkan’s Vow

Captain Raq examined the wide brown sheet of paper on the long table, tracing the path to each kingdom. It was an ancient map of their tribe, started by his great grandfather, marking the places they had been to. The captain’s cabin was spacious, a lone bunk at the far end. The lamps hanging on the wooden post swayed once in a while but the Sea King did not mind the subtle waves of the sea.

He already discussed the plan to all Valkan Elders for the number of ships they would give to Silver Neraides, manned by great voyagers in his tribe. His father once told him about the prophecy and claimed it was their bloodline who would bring honor to mankind and would cause the end of the monster. They would soon land their ships in the east part of the continent to ready the weapons his men would carry. And in two moons, they would meet the other tribes in Peachrow.

Hilmer, who had been sentenced to lifetime imprisonment, catching the punishment for his daughter, was pulled out of the cellar to forge swords. All men had to take part of the rising terror, especially now that some royal fools decided to open a war to them. As if the Sea Serpent’s war wasn’t enough to entertain them.

Captain Raq needed to maintain the safety of Barren tribe, as the island was a great spot for the valkans, a strategic area for them. And he knew Darius of Crimson Palace was eyeing it, wanting to take it by force. If the king posing as god wanted war, he would give it. If he wanted to risk the civilization of his people, then Raq would let him play in the battlefield and destroy every brick of his castle and burn them.

“Aav, may I have a word?” Azaiah’s voice rang in the captain’s ears, kicking him off his reverie. The young prince looked like he gained weight and muscle, his boyish look morphing into a grown-up Valkan warrior.

Raq gestured his hand to his son, beckoning him closer. “Yarikh, khuu,” he said, permitting his son to speak.

Azaiah stepped closer, watching his father. “I will sail with Gared. Let me lead the voyage.”

 “And what?” Raq asked, not paying him attention. “Let the evil kill you with disease? I won’t lose a son for that monster.”

Aza kept his composure but deep down he was annoyed. His father’s word sent waves of unsettling emotion in him and he did not like it one bit. “You cannot always protect me, father. I am born to lead a ship, just like you. Let me claim my destiny and bring victory to our tribe.”

The captain turned to look at him. Aza had the same eyes as his wife and so was Vera, hazel nut in color. “You are always sick when you were a baby. Even when your mother fed you with her own breast, you are always sick. I sometimes wonder if it’s because of your scar.”

Aza suddenly touched his scar. “Scars are symbol of strength. Not weakness.”

Raq walked toward him and tapped his son’s shoulder. “It could mean weakness, too, Azaiah.”

“But I am strong now,” Aza replied, his jaw clenching. “And we both know I will be leading this clan. I am your heir.”

Raq gritted his teeth, not sure if it was the right time to tell his son his secret. This was not how he pictured out telling Aza what happened when he was born. Nobody dared talk about it in the valkan tribe, afraid their tongues would be cut off in haste. Yet he figured there was no right time in telling the truth. It will hurt, no matter what.

“Your ikh aav told me that our bloodline will bring great victory in mankind and will end the wickedness of the monster. Our destiny is connected to the prophecy. But that fate is not for you to own, Aza,” the captain stated in a low tone. “You have a twin brother.”

The boy looked like he was struck hard by lightning. “Khen?” The smile trapped in his lips. “A brother? And you decide it is time now to unfold this story of yours, father?”

The captain took a lungful of air and looked away from his son’s reaction. “That time, the elders knew it was a bad omen to have twins, especially if it’s a captain’s child. They believe that one will lead the ships to the world’s paradise while the other will bring down the whole Valkan tribe to ashes. I f*****g shut them off and prayed to Nar Burkhan. You see, you and your brother’s head were glued to each other.”

Azaiah couldn’t even imagine the horror. “We are a bad omen?” Suddenly, the scar in his face itched, for the first time.

Raq chose not to answer. “We travelled all the way to River Lights to ask help from Silver Neraides to separate the two of you. The rest is history. But to tell you, your brother is alive, alone somewhere.”

“Why is he not with us? Did you give him away?”

“No. Akilah’s been stolen from us!” His hoarse voice echoed around the room, remembering again what the mad witch did to his son. “Your brother, your own blood, had been a witch’s captive. And I swore on your mother’s death bed that I will bring him home.”

Azaiah slowly shook his head, letting the truth sink in. So he wasn’t the only heir. But to his defense, he was the best fit. He knew he was born to take their ships to the paradise. He had been sailing since he was a boy and he would continue to sail to victory. He would not let a brother take away his fate from his grasp.

“Do you intend to make my lost brother your heir?” His words spoke volume and Aza could hear his own frustration. “Someone who would lead the whole tribe of hot heads is a brother who knows nothing of ships and waves? Is that your grand plan for this tribe?”

Raq sensed his son’s disappointment. “It is your words, not mine!” He hit his fist on the table. “Your brother has gifts, Azaiah. He will learn our culture when he gets here. Then I will decide who will take the lead of the sail when the time comes and ask for it.”

Azaiah laughed and started to pace the cabin. He felt like that what he did- all his training and learning and sharping his skills- were all subject for competition he was not aware existed.

“I can lead a sail, father,” he said after a while, blinking back his tears. Valkans do not cry. But it was anger Azaiah felt at the moment. “I will prove it to you. With or without your consent, I will represent one of our ships to the Silver Neraides and kill the Sea Serpent. And while I’m on it, I will find your missing son and bring him before you.”

Raq gazed at his son, suddenly feeling guilty. He made Azaiah feel that he didn’t deserve to be an heir. But deep in his heart, he knew he could not bear to lose a son again. Not yet. The boy was still young. “Azaiah, I will not have it!“

“How could a lost boy rule your ship and bring honor and victory to our people?” Aza wanted to laugh at his father. He had been commanding his life long enough and it was time to break free from his grip. He was a man now and the only thing he would follow was his sword.

The boy stepped back, putting a distance between. “This I vow to you, father,” he said, drawing his knife from the sheath and cut his palm with the edge. Blood oozed and the sting of the wound seeped quickly but Azaiah didn’t mind. “Ora e oltre.”

Now and beyond.

A vow he would never break even if it caused him death.

Azaiah forced himself to open his fist, stamping it to the map laid on the table, marking it with his blood.

“You don’t know what you are doing!” Raq muttered furiously, closing the gap between them. His son, Azaiah, who resembled most of his feature, stared at him with fiery eyes.

“I know very well what I am doing,” he replied, standing his ground. He would not be intimidated by the bulk physique of his father. He would not let the pain of the cut in his flesh showed in his face. “It is time for me to earn my inks.” Balling his bloody hand into fist, he walked away.

It had been a while since a valkan put out a vow before the captain. Raq knew it was not an empty word. For the first time after so many years, the captain felt fear inside his chest.

Truly, Azaiah did not just mirror his features but his attitude as well.