Wind furrowed the sails of Shea’s small sea craft, pitching it westward over deep ocean swells, seventy miles southwest of Arrow’s shoreline. She checked her bearings again and relaxed, facing the wind and letting the tears stream from her eyes. She'd had wanted to cry when her father died and couldn’t, so she cried the tears now—though they were wind-induced frauds.

Her father wasn't far from this latitude when Barronite pirates seized his merchant vessel, murdering him and his entire crew. The grief had lodged in Shea's throat. She'd lost her voice, suffered epileptic attacks. But after more than a year of leave from work, she’d returned to her unit.

It wasn't the same, though. Some questioned her fitness for service. True, her father’s death had altered her—a decorated operative in the Arrow Special Services. Some had wanted to retire her. Use her for light duties like propaganda films. She would make a good actress.

Shea had scoffed at this suggestion. She was more motivated than ever, and she was ready prove it.

Under her commander’s complicated stare, she held her shoulders down and back. “How many times have I proven myself to you in the past?”

He grimaced. “I trust you, but I’ve had to stick my neck out against some pretty loud muckety-mucks who have their doubts. Now, they’re willing to lay worries aside on my word. Don’t let me regret it.”

Her gaze was unflinching. “I swear on my father’s grave—you won’t regret it.”

Her commander grunted, but dropped a file at her desk. “Keep it quiet.”

Shea read and reread the file. Committed most of it to memory. And in a moment of panic, she thought maybe she had lost her nerve. It would take her away from Arrow for a long time. She’d have to learn another language. This time would be different. She would have no training before departure. The language school had no resources for teaching a tongue so little spoken.

Stolen story; please report.

The assignment was on Senkara, an isolated island seventy miles offshore. The file was fairly thin for details, though it was generally acknowledged that islanders were non expansionist, and even backwards in their adaptation of leylines. Ethnically, they may have some relationship to the people of Grater Barren, though they carried on no established political or trade relationship with the country. Senkara was prosperous, though, trading between the islands of the Rim, but otherwise isolationist.

The mission felt like a demotion. A more or less permanent vacation, though in truth, if these sources were correct, and there really was ley energy within those isles, she knew how the State Counsel felt about them. Prolonged stalemate with Flintstock and Grater Barren over disputed territories to the east raised questions about the potential for, perhaps, less potent, but more accessible leyline sources, if the resources could be spared for their exploration. Her mission was an experiment. On the chance useful leylines did exist on the Oceanic Rim, Arrow should lay claim to it before Grater Barren, or worse, Flintstock got there.

She couldn’t refuse. Her future relied on the success of this mission. If this went well, she could pick her next posting.

Shea lifted her lenses and stared long at the mound of green rising up above the aquamarine sea. A thin line of white sand rimmed the cliffs rising above the ocean. Anticipation and something else rose up inside of her. She never did anything half way, and if they were going to post her out here at the edge of the earth, she may as well enjoy it for it’s possibilities. She stretched her face toward the wind, soaking in the cold spray.

Towering cliffs plunged into a torpid sea--crashing the cliffside with a ceaseless spray of salt and surf. Gulls cried from above and vapor hovered over the northern bluffs of Senkara. Shea steered her vessel south, against a rough surf and lowing clouds, eager to reach shore before the storm broke over the bluffs. Wind buffeted her small craft, but aided her swift approach toward the beaches in the south. Waves were breaking hard against the sandy shoreline, and she steered further south, keeping her eyes sharp for a sheltered harbor or inlet. Then she noticed it--a smooth dome of white marble, rising up above the treetops. The dome shone in the relief of the surrounding dark foliage of the forest. She cared nothing for the architectural quality of the structure. The leyline power undulating from that building was stunning! How had surveyors missed it? She redirect the tide with that much ley force!