I stare out over the deep blue ocean and watch the rippling waves sweep against the shore, the water gently caressing the stones at my feet. I breathe in the salty air and clench sharp tiny pebbles tight in my fist until my palm stings. I release them to the ground, letting them settle once again at my side. Wind from the east drags my long hair into my eyes, hair that has caused many families in Yadout to treat me as an outsider.
I brush the air out of my eyes and catch the smell of the trees behind me. I am reminded of my old house, my parents. The memory is so old it feels as though it is not even my own but that of a friend. Merely a story I heard long ago.
My parents disappeared one night while I slept, only five harvests old then. No one was ever caught or even suspected. There wasn’t a sound that night. Nothing moved; nothing dared. The silence was louder than sound, a piercing scream I never heard with my ears but only in my heart. Fear struck me to the very core of my being and ever since then I’ve hated change.
The forest behind me snaps, betraying the person within. I am not alone. Why she chose me for this is still a mystery. “Deany.” Silently I sit up. My heart races at the sound of her voice, I’m not ready. “Deany are you back there?” She calls.
“I am.” I call back against my better judgment. “I’m over here, Amber.” She pushes through the small barrier of trees that keep us apart and smoothes her raven hair gingerly pulling a twig that had found its rest there. I turn and look at my friend who was only recently named the Lady Mayor of Yadout, the highest position in the country. With that position she was also given the title “Amber the Short”, a title given in love but received grudgingly.
Amber steps closer to me, her footfall short and thoughtful. “There I stepped onto the beach and saw Deany, the Scholar of Yadout, sitting. Silently he contemplated how his decisions in life had led him to where he sat today.” She smiles widely and kneels down at my side. “Sound about right?” She asks, reclining against the rocky shore.
I laugh. “Wrong tense.” I tell her, glancing over out of the corner of my eye. The ocean wind blows her raven hair back, flowing like the waves on the shore. She smiles and stares out over the horizon. She smoothes her leather tunic and dusts off her black pants, then gazes with nostalgia at the sky. “You haven’t been here in a long time.” I whisper.
“Neither of us have.” She corrects me equally quiet; I nod. “It’s beautiful,” she says after a long moment, “more beautiful than I remember.”
I toss a small rock into the water and it splashes a few strides away from us. “Time seems to fade away. I wish we had more.”
Amber shakes her head. “No, our time is decided before we are born. I don’t know who or what determines it, but I know that time is a constant and nothing we do can change that.” She stares longingly over the ocean. The blue skies and water seem to stretch forever, the waves anxiously mimicking the tranquil clouds.
“I remember the last time we were here,” I sigh, “I was fifteen harvests old and you were thirteen. Eleven harvests have changed so much. We’ve come so far and yet… here we are; right back where we began. As I sit here though, I realize that with all the progress we’ve made in Yadout, some things never change. The ocean, the sky, even Military Island, they may shift but they never change.” I shake my head, castle Yadout comes to mind. I look over at Amber and then down at the rocky shore. Her sullen face betrays her thoughts, what can I can I say to console her? “Well, some things change too quickly.”
“Things are bound to change now that he’s gone.” Amber says. I sigh in remembrance of her mentor, the late Lord Mayor who had ruled since we were children. “Hudson was a great leader.” She says quietly. She smiles sadly at the irony. ‘Hudson the Great’ was a great leader.
I lay my hand on her shoulder. “You’ll do fine.” I say, her light brown eyes locking with mine. “With the passing of so many generations since Yadout’s last Scholar, I think my job is going to be much more difficult.” She slaps my arm away playfully and stands up.
But again her mood shifts, she looks off into the forest. She is sad, unbearably sad. “Remember when we were younger?” She asks to distract herself. Taking a deep breath she looks back at me, she smiles widely and her mood shifts again. How could I ever forget? “We would lay here and dream of flying, flying high into the air.” She spins around once, her arms spreading wide as though she were dancing on the clouds.
“I remember.” I whisper, smiling to myself and watching her graceful movements. “I remember when we pretended you were struck by an arrow, or a lightning bolt and I had to save you.” I lean back and lay down staring up into the sky. “The rush as I dive through the clouds towards that endless blue ocean to save you from some impending doom right below you.”
She turns sharply towards me. She is smiling but her tone is harsh. “I remember when you added that to my story! I just wanted to fly!” She kicks the ground, spewing rocks at me. I shield myself with my arm and sit up, laughing.
“You should have lightened up. Sometimes I think we take life too seriously.” Reality sounds in the northwest, voices raised in defiant unison against a not so distant threat.
“We need to get moving.” She tells me softly.
I suppose I came here not only for the memory, not only for the solitude, but also because ever since she became the Lady Mayor, and appointed me as the Scholar, we haven’t had even a moment alone. Our work has consumed us.
“Amber,” I say slowly, “I can’t do this.” I stare out over the water and remember our childhood. In those days it seemed like we could do anything.
“I know Deany.” She says extending her hand, I take it and she helps me to my feet. “But together, we can.” She keeps hold of my hand a moment longer and together we walk back to the castle to join the army.
Continue to Chapter One: Retribution »