A Warrior's Dance

XVII – The Book of Nightmares

Sanne spent her cold mornings working at the kitchen. The food for the royal family and the councils seemed like an everyday grand feast. Add that it was also the maiden’s task to prepare bath for the king’s guest and the king had sure got a lot of people visiting him. She had learned to keep her head low, avoiding eyes that could see her indifference. The other maidens saw her as a weird little girl, her hasty actions and sudden moves usually caused her troubles.

Back in the Island of Barren, she grew up mirroring her father, picking up his habit to walk and talk quickly, move with ease and swiftly. She didn’t know that in the palace, maidens should be calm and steady, always minding their proper composure. Wherever the little red-haired-girl go, she seemed not to fit.

The memory of her father coursed through her mind, making the scar at her back itch. She wondered how he was, praying every night to the Sun God that he was still alive. Azaiah’s promise was what made her heart swell with hope but she knew she shouldn’t expect much from him. As soon as she finished her day chores, she sneaked into the kitchen and snatched a cheese bread, pocketing it to her robe, before exiting the king’s tower.

The sun was almost setting when Sanne slipped out her chamber, her white robe covered with the black cloak, and headed to the Hall of Books. She figured that her nights shouldn’t be spent alone in her quarter and waste the night even though she knew the rules would not allow her to sneak at night and do things that weren’t ordered by Madam Lariza. But she should learn while she was at the palace, put some effort to blend into the civilization. If in her island she was taught the basic of swords, resources and fights, she ought to learn what palace people do as well.

The Hall of Book housed thousands of books, written by warriors of different races. The wooden shelves almost reach the ceiling, towering like trees. It was Sanne’s first time to enter such hall and she felt a tinge of excitement just by being there.

Tip-toeing to reach a thick book from one of the shelves, she stretched her arm but still wasn’t enough. A hand reached it then, getting it for her.

“Interesting choice,” Raiden said, reading the title before handing her the book.

Sanne smiled at him and turned her attention to the book. It was heavy as she expected and smelled of wet soil. “Have you read this?”

“Yes,” he answered, ushering her to the rows of tables. He opened the book, his hands feeling the roughness of the parchment.

“What is it about?” she asked as they seated, her eyes had wonder in them, expecting Raiden’s story.

“Are you not going to read it?” he asked slowly, taking in her reaction.

She sighed, gazing at the book, tracing the words on the old paper. “I am still learning,” she admitted.

Raiden was uncertain why he couldn’t dismiss the foreign girl. He wasn’t really the friendly type, as people, especially his age, was awkward when they talk to him. He somehow found peace at her company, as odd as it was. “The Fall of the Phoenix,” he read the title.

Sanne plopped her arm on the table, resting her chin on her palm.

“Once, there was a nymph, a maiden so pure like white Lilies, tasked to nurture the Mountain of Maisha. Different creatures inhabited its forest, the phoenix included. And while the nymph has love only for nature, the maiden couldn’t help but take interest on the man who got lost on the mountain. She guided her to the right path, as those who ventured the mountain would be lost forever. But she only not helped the man but also let him taste her flesh, unbounding the power she had on earth. The phoenix heard what the nymph had done and got angry, as she ruined the natural cycle of the magical mountain.

Soon, men heard of her power and beauty and they sought her out. When they could not find her, they started to kill the creatures and disrupt the forest. Angered by the wickedness that rooted on the mountain, the diety swore to cleanse it. And so the storm came, as promised, the sky rattling with wrath. The mountain shook, the ground broke like glass and one by one, the trees drowned together with the nymph, the men lost in the forest’s core and its land creatures. The soil turned into sea and the sea mirrored the heaven. The calm water formed waves, leaving no home for the great phoenix.”

“Why it was called fall of the phoenix?” Sanne asked in a low tone, absorbed on the story.

Raiden felt his throat drying, not remembering the last time he read out loud. “If you read the rest of the story, you’ll know. This is just a tale, Sanne. But be warned, this is not a story for your age, I guess. This is a terrifying tale.”

She smiled, flipping the thick pages. The fascination she had with phoenixes resurfaced in her chest, once again remembering her father’s story about it too.

“I think I can handle it,” she replied, meeting his pointed stare. Her eyes shifted to his scars again, wondering how two people could be so much looked alike yet different at the same time.

Sensing where her gaze fell, Raiden turned away. “Enough of the bed-time story,” he uttered. “Tell me, where are you rooted? Who are you?”

She looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. What had she done now?

When she kept her silence, Raiden’s lips turned up. “I figured you are not from here, Sanne.”

“Not all the citizens of the palace rooted here, as well,” she said, quick on her defense. “Aren’t we all come from different tribes and places and races before we arrived here?”

“That is true,” he replied, agreeing with her. “But what I want to know is your tribe.”

Sanne felt her heart kicked. Madam Lariza made her swore not to tell anyone or she will be in trouble.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Raiden stated in a low tone, sensing her dilemma. “Io amalt.”

With that, Sanne looked up to him, tear burning her eyes at his words. It was the same words Azaiah told her before they part, a promise she was trying to hold on to. They looked so much alike, Azaiah and Raiden, only the placement of their scars differed. Could she trust him?

Azaiah once made an impression that he was a fierce lad who would not bend the culture he grew up with. After all, he was a prince by birth. Yet he freed her and helped her escape. The stranger boy Raiden made her feel the same way. Having someone she could talk to in the palace aside from the middle-aged maidens would be okay. Would it?

“I am,” she started, biting back her fear. “From the Barren tribe. My father is blacksmith.”

Raiden thought that he wouldn’t be surprised by her roots. Barren was an island rich in gems and food resources, a known ally of the palace’s enemy. Hearing her say that made him feel anxious. He looked around, making sure there were no ears near them. “What are you doing here at the palace?” he asked, leaning close to her.

Sanne swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hiding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “From whom?”

Her stomach tensed as the terror crept up her neck, reminding her of the torture she endured at their hands. Her scar itched again at her back, as if her flesh remembered every bit of pain that coursed through her body during her time in solitude. “The valkans.”

Raiden held her gaze. He could see the fright in her eyes- eyes so innocent but broken. A lady carrying stacks of books walked past them, pulling them off their brief nightmares.

Once the lady was out of reach, Raiden turned to her again. “Did they hurt you?” he whispered, his curiosity getting the best of him. Since the moment he learned his true bloodline, he yearned to know more about them, the tribe many feared and respected. But the valkans had a reputation that preceded them.

Sanne just stared at him, her mouth refusing to tell more. She shook her head, wanting to get out. “You promise not to tell anyone.”

“I promise, little girl,” he answered, easing her anxiety. He figured it was best not to push her further.

When he stood up, Sanne did the same, clutching the book on her chest, pretending they did not have the talk. “Have a good night.”

He just nodded and swiftly distance himself, walking out of the Hall of Books.

****

Raiden found his cousin lying on his mattress when he entered his chamber. His private quarter was kept tidy, as his mother hated seeing things straying on every corner. The walls were painted red, the curtains drawn on the large windows.

“How long have you been here?” he asked his cousin, watching him wiggle his feet, hanging past the bed.

Prince Matthews sighed, eyes staring blankly on the ceiling. “Ever since the valkans stepped foot in our land, my father’s at the edge of his seat.”

The mere mention of the infamous tribe sent unknown sensation in Raiden’s stomach. He thought he would last hear it from the little girl but tonight seemed full of surprises.

“So is the commanders and the councils,” he responded, sitting on the round cushion near the bed. “What’s on your mind, Mat?”

Matthews sat up, a crease on his eyebrows, his hand smoothing his chin. “Father said I should marry the morcan princess soon enough. I heard he wants to use their army to claim islands in the west.”

“The valkans did not do anything when they land their ships on our port, did they?” Raiden muttered carefully.

“Should we wait for them to kill one of ours first?” the prince asked, looking at him with interest. “Father think we should draw first blood. His command is to invade Vera’sha.”

Vera’sha was an island not far from Barren, a known ally as well of the valkan tribe. And though the tribe’s flag wasn’t swaying from Vera’sha, the islander catered to the sea warrior’s needs whenever they dock to fill their barrel with oil and foods.

Raiden stared at the prince, who seemed deeply lost in his own thoughts. “That’s all your father thoughts,” he said, snapping his cousin’s reverie. “I want to know, what you think.”

Matthews’ smile didn’t reach his hooded eyes, his kind and radiant face looked disturbed. “What I think, dear cousin, is marriage is too early for me. I think my father’s making a big mistake by challenging the valkans, a not so wise move, if I may say. And, claiming Vera’sha is a trigger to start a war that have caused the fall of all races and the reason why we are exerting efforts to maintain the civilization today.”

If anything, the prince knew how to look at the bigger picture. Raiden clapped his shoulder. “You deserve the throne, cousin. It is meant for you, I am sure of that.”

“My king father has no plan retiring yet, I assume, as he got plenty of plans for this kingdom.” He shrugged his shoulder and let out a sigh. “But do you think we can take the valkan’s force? They said that when they conquer, they held the women captives and do to them what they pleased.”

Captain Raq’s image flashed before Raiden’s eyes, the inks on his tanned skin was a result of the many battles they had won.

“All I know, is we would fight as hard as they do.”

Matthews considered his answer, nodding his head. “Do you know that Aunt Rainlee was once betrothed to the Sea King?”

No, Raiden didn’t know. “I think it was one of her memories she would rather not reminisce and share.”

“She is a beauty, even now,” the prince continued and stood up, stretching his arms and back. “She’s like a mother to me, too, Raiden. I won’t let any valkan near her.”

The prince left his chamber, his cryptic words leaving him a bit puzzled. Raiden was sure that his cousin wasn’t the same prince he knew growing up that moment. Something in him changed the moment the king tossed a responsibility upon his shoulder.