ACT II

Twilight had already fallen once again by the time the three sailors reached Cera-Na. The bustling, vibrant port glimmered in the near distance as the ships approached, and the reflections of the brilliant sparkles were cast deep in their eyes. Feelings of hope and inspiration coursed through them like wildfire. It was clear, this adventure of theirs was now in full momentum, and it was unstoppable.

When Tae's small ship finally docked in her home port, she and her two companions jumped down to the dock one by one; silhouettes floating down into the shadows of the dim-lit bay of boats. As they walked forward into the bright lights of the tent city, thy were immediately hit with exotic smells; Dousan incense from deep in the Wellspring, heady spices, and endless combinations of seafood charred to perfection on Sifan grills.

All around them were the colors of the Sifa. Big and bold tapestries, flags, and tent structures, woven from sailcloth and animal textures, projecting radiant reds, purples, and blues. And between each of the shops, vendors, and restaurants, were hundreds of performers. Magicians, salesmen, fortune tellers, and singers, all dancing and wafting through an ocean of fabric and decoration. It was as if the world itself had suddenly become draped in curtains from all sides, and the noise that surrounded them was almost unnatural. But Tavra loved it.

"Every time I visit this place," she began. "It becomes more strange. More full of life." Her eyes spread across the colorful landscape with awe.

"You've only been here twice before!" Onica returned, taking Tavra's arm in hers with a hearty smile. "Wait until you have been visiting for many trine."

"True," she studied the area for a moment. "And yet it seems more lively tonight than I have seen yet."

"Because of the hooyim races, remember?" Tae chimed in from behind. She came along side them to match their pace. "They begin tomorrow at dawn!"

"Oh yes," Tavra replied. "You have yet to tell me about it."

Tae took a breath and swelled with pride. "Well, you know the hooyim fish are our sigil animal, right?"

Tavra nodded. "Of course, we use their jeweled scales in our workshops in Ha'rar."

"Right!" Tae chirped. "And once every trine, we build special racing boats for a day of competition. When the hooyim race along the shore lines, we set out in groups of 12, testing our skills at speed and agility with our special skiffs."

"You mean just off the coast?" Tavra motioned to the nearby beach, which was riddled with jagged rocks and white caps. Tae nodded once, almost solemnly. "Sounds like madness. Who could survive such a vicious coast?"

"Many do not," Onica sighed and let her chin dip down. "It is extremely dangerous. But that is precisely why racers want to test their skills." She looked to Tavra again reassuringly.

Tavra was slightly confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand. The reason, I mean."

"That is simple," Onica continued. "In Sifan culture, to know one's ship is to know yourself. And to test those skills--those values and traditions--as a brave sailor, that means everything."

"I see," Tavra took a moment to digest the information. "Like a warrior's trial."

Tae nodded vigorously. "Exactly! Only the most daring can compete."

"And not to mention, a special mark of ink from the Maudra herself on your bow for a victory!" Onica beamed and stuck her thumb out into the air. "Some do it just for that single reason, I'm sure."

"I doubt it," Tae scoffed. "What good is the thumb print anyway when they just burn the boats at the end of the day?"

Tavra was shocked. "You burn the boats?!"

"Of course!" Tae replied, awkwardly cheerful. "It's all a part of the ceremony," she confirmed. And then she suddenly added: "But I never burn mine."

Now Onica was shocked. "What do you mean you don't burn it?"

"I've never finished a race! How can I?"

"Well, the point is to start new every year."

"I know," she thought for a long moment. "If I can complete one this year, I will burn it." She looked out to the horizon with a sudden steely gaze.

Tavra shook her head. "I still can't imagine putting that much work into a ship just to burn it."

Onica poked Tavra's side. "Be quiet, Tavra, you'll give her second thoughts again!" The three of them laughed in unison. Their cheerful energy rising high into the night air with the blue plumes of smoke, snaking through the tents and up into the starry sky. Just then, a gruff voice called out to them from one of the tents.

"Hello, Onica!"

Onica turned to see an old weathered man, with a grubby white shirt and a very worn fishing kilt, slouched over and halfway out of one of the tents. He had locks of roasted fruit and random fishing hooks hanging from his belt, with some hooks stuck into the fabric, or glued to it with dried fish paste.

"What ya say? How was that swoothu? Eh? Best, right?" He seemed to have a heavy accent, which Tavra immediately tried to identify, but could not. Until she realized it was no accent, but a less educated way of speaking. Most likely from a simple, solitary life on the ocean. He appeared to be a swoothu trainer, as the roasted fruit smell coming from his tent would indicate, as well as the various flags and banners hung around the tent which had inlays of swoothu wings. She knew he was Spriton by the way his black hair was braided, and by the sharp, triangular features of face.

Onica sighed and turned toward him. "Not quite, my good sir."

"What, why?" He wondered.

Onica placed a hand on her hip. "You failed to tell me that swoothu only love roasted fruit."

"Yesh, this is what I give you." He replied and grabbed a braid of fruit on his belt.

"Of course you did! But then it dried out," she tried to smile. "And it flew away."

He pounded his hairy chest once with a loud thump. "My swoothu, the best!" He proclaimed. "They never do that to you. Any fruit okay." He waved her off.

"The creature may disagree with you, sir," she looked into the sky. "It is likely on it's way to the peak of Thra right now."

The man grumbled and huffed. "Keep believing." He replied, whatever that meant.

When he pointed a finger at her, Onica stifled a laugh and returned a pointed finger at him. "Keep training." She mocked.

With that final insult, he stomped back inside his tent and tried to slam his opening shut. This was more comical than threatening, as his door was made of cloth. The three of them let out another good chuckle, taking turns to catch their breath and impersonate the strange character. The busy, wild night air around them seemed to match their moods as they continued through the maze of colors.

After a few long hours had passed, with food and drink and more laughter, Tae departed for the evening, preparing for her eventful day tomorrow. At last, Tavra and Onica were finally alone. In the darkest hours of the night, they wandered up a steep cliffside just behind the tent village, which gave them a perfect panoramic view of the entire port.

"Come on!" Onica gestured to Tavra, who was slowly making her way across a razor edge of stone, with nothing below her but rocky shorelines.

"This is very dangerous!" Tavra protested. "You Sifa have nerve like I have never experienced. You tempt death just for a better view of the ocean."

"It's just this way," Onica assured. She placed her back against the wall and shuffled sideways until she came to a big ledge. It was an outcropping with pieces of random boulders set into the face of the cliff, just big enough to sit on. It was perfectly quiet and hidden. Onica reached out her hand and guided Tavra to the spot, urging her to take a seat on one of the boulders beside her. The only light around them came from the blue glow of the three moons, hung over the velvet waves like shinning pearls. Then, Onica lit a small fire. Using another one of her charms, a red orb this time, she placed it inside of a small wooden statue fixated to the rock. Both watched as tiny flames began to dance in the chilled air.

Tavra admired the moment. "You have been up here many times," she remarked, noticing the black char around the wooden stature, indicating prolonged use.

"Yes, this is my new favorite spot!" Onica boasted. She and Tavra took a seat side by side, and let the silence of the night overcome them. "Isn't it so peaceful?" she breathed, gazing out over the reflections of the moon in the waves.

"It is," Tavra stated unenthusiastically.

Onica looked to her and realized something was wrong. "Is something the matter?" she asked.

"No," Tavra replied in a soothing tone. She met Onica's eyes. "I just..."

"You are thinking of home already?" Onica finished for her.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Yes, it is." Onica was stern at first, then smiled gradually. Tavra let a giggle escape her. "You can't hide things from a fardreamer."

"I'm sorry," Tavra looked down to the ocean below her. "It must be all the drinks we have had tonight effecting my emotions."

"Sifan rum will do that." Onica's smile became vigorous.

"Now I know that for a fact." They both laughed. After a moment of contemplation, Tavra continued her thoughts. "But it is not the air of home I miss. It is not longing. It is uncertainty."

"Uncertainty about what?"

"Our adventure, of course!" Tavra scolded playfully.

"Oh!" Onica suddenly realized they had never discussed the most important aspect of their current journey: the reason for it. "What an odd situation indeed. We became so preoccupied with telling stories, the details had not come up yet. To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure of the details myself. Tae knows far more than I do."

"That is well," Tavra reassured. "This night is all part of the adventure, I suppose." They smiled at each other again.

"This is true," Onica agreed. "And that is why those details can wait, until the sun rises again." At first Tavra was confused. But then she realized, tonight was for them. "Before all else, let us have this night." She smiled lovingly, staring into Tavra's beautiful, crystal eyes. The shimmer from the moons in her eyes was entrancing, it pulled them together undeniably. At last, their lips touched. They embraced and entwined. Wrapping around each other like the shadows of flowers beneath a diamond sky. For them the night was young. The night was long. For their passion would surrender the moons.

By the time the last clouds had cleared from the sunrise, the races were already underway. The ocean sparkled like a blanket of blue gems, shimmering in the golden rays of the vibrant sky above. Along the surface of the water, white tufts of sea broke rapidly in succession, hills of waves rolled playfully, bringing the Sifan coastline to life like a startled beast.

Moving gracefully across the ocean plain in a group of twelve skiffs, Sifan racers dashed through the salty blasts of ocean, balancing their ships and continuously adjusting their sails. On the small decks, they swiftly darted from side to side, front to back, and even up and down their small masts, constantly righting the course. The shorelines of the racing grounds were severe. Unforgiving. Laced with black, jagged rock teeth, and surrounded by strong rip currents and random whirl pools around every inlet. If a sailor were to damage their ships and fall in, it was nearly impossible to escape, or survive.

High above the coast line, and safe from the unpredictable ocean, Tavra and Onica watched from the roof of one of the many viewing tents; specially constructed seating areas specifically built for this one day of spectacle.

"Do you see Tae?" Tavra asked, leaning into Onica as she focused her gaze on ships. "The waves make it hard to see the colors of the flags."

Onica lifted a small piece of cylindrical glass from her chest. A tiny telescope she had constructed herself, strung low on a thick piece of blue rope. She held it up to her eye and squinted. "...Just a moment. They are too close together. Ah! There she is!" she let the glass fall to her chest again, lifting a finger to point the ship out to Tavra. "Just there--the orange flag!"

"Yes, I see it now!" Tavra exclaimed, finally able to keep her eyes on Tae's vessel. "She appears to be very far behind," she noticed.

Onica smirked. "Don't worry, that's her style," she assured.

"She saves her energy. Then strikes?" Tavra wondered.

"Exactly."

"That seems an uncommon method for skiff racing,"

"Indeed it is," Onica looked to Tavra. "But it works for her. Each racer must find their own unique style. This is what truly proves your worth as a sailor, not the results of the race."

Tavra contemplated the notion and slowly nodded. Then, her eyes shifted from Tae's orange flag, pulled away by a smaller, fast moving skiff which was at least a hundred feet ahead of the pod. "Who is that?" she inquired.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Onica raised the small telescope to her eye again. "Not sure," she searched for any identification. "There are no markings or colors."

"Is that a black flag I see?" Tavra covered the sun's glare.

"Yes," Onica replied, slowly dropping the lens.

"Isn't that a strange color to fly?"

Onica nodded, keeping watch on the ship. "It is never flown. Bad luck."

Tavra glanced at Onica curiously, then returned to studying the mysterious vessel. "A very interesting event, indeed." She concluded.

Upon the anger of the ocean, the pod of ships, led by a black flag far ahead, skipped and pranced along the waves in a renegade pattern. The sailors were all at the mercy of the emotions of the seas. Ever changing, furious, unpredictable. The surface of the deep blue water exploded in all directions, bound by no constraints, tumbling wildly in the currents. And yet, just below the surface of the crazed waters, beautiful jewel-scaled fish swam in the thousands, like another ocean below the Silver Sea. A radiant rainbow beneath their feet. Their sigil animal, the hooyim. The passion and reason for this very race. A reminder. A motivator. And to some, a deadly distraction.

Two sailors who had caught eye of the fish suddenly became preoccupied with the tremendous colors, inadvertently veering into each other's courses. The collision was swift and powerful. Both ships splintered upon impact, sending each vessel into the sharp rocks jutting out from the shore. One of the skiffs beached itself on a small rock island, falling into a heap. The other spun out of control, carried by the waves, then slowly began to sink just before the sailor leapt into the ocean and to a near by buoy.

She watched all of this from the very top of her ship's mast. Her eyes narrowed and sharpened like a predator. Black as the bottom of the sea. Her hand held tight to the hold on the side of the mast, she hung for a moment, lost in the gravity of a falling wave. As soon as the ship balanced itself in the gap, she leapt a short distance down to the deck, rope in hand, and quickly tied the cord through a pulley, yanking as hard as she could. A small sail rose up at the front of the skiff, an extra bit of help for the unbridled wind. When the sail reached the top, she ran to the side of the ship and leaned out over the ocean. Another wave was coming.

Her legs shuffled as she scurried back to the other side of the ship, grabbing another cord attached to the mast and pulling it tight. She then climbed up on the narrow edge of the ship and waited. As the wave passed by on the left side, she leaned herself far over to the right. Her skiff was much smaller than the others. Nothing more then a large, curved plank with a thin mast a few small sails. As a result, the ship was much easier to control. But the force of the wave was like the head of Vassa herself, displacing every breath of air as it passed. With her feet planted firmly in place, she pulled hard to the right, nearly forcing the entire ship into the ocean, riding on the edges as if she were trying to tame a wild dragon.

When the wave had fully passed, she leapt back to the center of the ship, knelt in front of the mast, and used her cords to pull the small sail back in again. Every second of every moment was a challenge. Nothing was automatic, nothing was certain. This was the talent required to test your skill.

Just as she was preparing her next move, a bright banner of orange fluttered in the corner of her vision. She locked her eyes on it and jumped to her feet. Just behind her, coming up fast on the right hand side, was Tae. Apparently she had some competition today, for Tae had also been keeping a keen eye on the patterns of the waves. Both of them had known which side to break to, and what angle to take. Now Tae was gaining ground.

In a blink, she returned to the mast, readjusting more cords and ropes. In a flurry of activity, three more small sails raised near the front of the ship, immediately taking wind and pushing the skiff forward with a jolt. She gazed back in Tae's direction, observing any detail she could. This ship was perfectly designed, masterfully constructed, and outfitted for speed. A fine craft, just like her own. And to her surprise, still keeping pace.

Back atop the viewing tents, Tavra and Onica cheered with gusto as they watched Tae's ship slowly but surely begin to overtake the black flagged vessel. But the mysterious woman leading the race was far more cunning than any of them could imagine. Today was her day. This was her race.

As a massive spray of ocean water hit the side of her ship, the woman dashed to the rear of the deck, grabbing the rudder and forcefully pushing it away from her. Her ship suddenly spun to the right, leaving Tae little time to react. Before Tae knew it, the woman's ship was directly ahead of her, cutting across her bow like a giant fin. With no time to think, she gasped, froze and prepared herself for impact. But thankfully, the entire skiff passed with ease, clearing her ship by mere inches.

Tae let out a puff of relief, holding onto her chest for a moment, and then quickly became enraged. She allowed a brief shout of anger to escape her, carrying her insult across the sea, before the waves commanded her attention again. As the rage in her subsided, she kept a sharp eye on this mad vessel she was now pursuing. She rooted her legs and pushed on the rudder with a grunt, sending her ship drifting towards the wake of her opponent. From the ocean washed deck of the black flagged vessel, the shadowy woman appeared like a seabird. Drenched and worn, yet agile and graceful.

The women leered at Tae through the mist of breaking waves. Now at the top of her mast again, she hung from the side like a spider, her head wandering in all directions to examine the flow of the ocean. As she surveyed the northern waters through misty eyes, something suddenly appeared just off the bow of her ship. Like the horn of a massive creature, one of the larger waves dipped into the ocean to reveal a stout, twisted spire of rock waiting on the other side. It had not been visible until this moment, and now it was too late to maneuverer away.

Her expression shifted to shock, as cries and gasps from the shoreline carried across the ocean. But just as quickly as it had appeared, the shock faded, reassembling into a fierce resolve. She knew that in every situation, there is always a way. A way to escape, a way out, a way to win.

With every fiber in her body screaming with determination, she jumped back down to the deck and slid over the slippery decks to the bow of her skiff. As she came to a stop, she grabbed onto a worn wooden lever, pushing down with a great strength that fractured the staff. With a huge splash of water, a wide, oblong paddle crashed down into the ocean in front of the bow, creating a force against the waves to slow the ship. Just as she had expected, and practiced so many times, her actions were a success. The paddle slowed the ship significantly, almost dipping the entire bow into the ocean and raising the rear end into the sky. She dashed up the now slanted decks of the ships toward the aft section, grasping another thick cable as she ran by the mast. With her weight now on the back, the little skiff's end slowly fell back into the water.

Just then, she noticed Tae's ship sail past on her left at an abrupt pace. There was no doubt, she had also not seen the finger of rock until just now, and with her current course, there was no way she could possibly avoid a collision. The woman watched carefully as Tae's ship floated by, and a brief moment of pity overcame her. She could see Tae scrambling around the deck, like a lost child looking for her mother. Frightened, panicked, unable to breath. It was almost sad to watch, and for a moment, she debated assisting her. Yet, every Sifan sailor must be strong. They must prove their worth. She knew very well, to offer help to someone in a competition like this would likely cause greater harm than the injuries sustained.

In that moment of distraction, she was suddenly refocused as her ears caught a familiar sound. It was inaudible to most, but having spent so much time on the waters of the Silver Sea, experienced sailors could read the patterns of waves like books. And a new page was about to turn. Just beyond the rock formation, she could hear another wave beginning to rise. It was big, big enough to cover the entire surface of the rock spire, and it was forming fast. Now the situation had become far more dire. At this point there was no escape for Tae. The wave enveloping the rock formation would surely capsize her ship, leaving her in the ocean without protection, and smashing her bones against the jagged stone. It was time to make a decision.

She ran back to the mast once again, raising two more small sails at the front of her ship. They caught a strong wind, which she knew would arrive at precisely that moment, and tugged her skiff forward with immediate speed. She knelt down and held onto the ropes tight, allowing her small ship to gain as much speed as possible.

Like a low flying gull gliding across the surface of the sea, her skiff raced toward the rock formation, now following close behind Tae's ship. With one firm hand on her rudder, she directed the skiff skillfully through the many whitecaps, finally coming along side Tae's ship. When she was close enough, she rose to her feet, standing firmly on the deck and trying to locate the frightened girl. To her surprise, she discovered Tae still proudly holding onto the half broken wheel of her vessel. Her eyes were full of fear, but her expression was stoic. There was no doubt, this girl had heart. Saving her now would be a matter of assisting a fallen soldier, not pity. With the giant wave beginning to take shape around the rock formation, nearly directly in front of them now, she leaned over the side of her skiff and outstretched her hand in Tae's direction.

Tae suddenly caught site of the ship beside her. She could see the dark shape of woman who seemed to be motioning to her. Tae's fear returned again, looking between the other ship and the pieces of her broken wheel with trembling limbs. Then, without warning, both ships were cast in shade. The massive formation of water now rising before them was blotting out the rising sun. There was no time. Only one word could be spared between them.

"JUMP!" The woman called out to Tae. Her voice was low and strong, with a harsh yet beautiful tone. A kind of voice which spoke endless phrases and emotions through a single expression.

Tae realized the severity of the situation. She knew she would not be able to save her ship at this point, and more importantly, she would not be ale to survive. There was only one way out. Releasing the firm grip on her broken wheel, she ran as fast as she could to the side, pausing for a moment to gain a better angle to jump from. The woman on the other ship motioned franticly, as Tae could see she was already steering the ship away from her. It was right now, or never. With an enormous surge of energy, Tae bent her knees and bounded with all of her might, sailing through the air like a helpless doll, lost to the fate of the air and ocean which she loved so much. She couldn't help but close her eyes as she fell through the air. And at the moment she did, she felt a powerful jerk on her arm. Someone had grabbed it, and was pulling her to safety.

With a thump, she landed on the salt encrusted desk, feeling fresh splinters cut her arms and legs as she rolled to a stop. She cleared the water from her eyes, both tears and ocean, and attempted to look upon her savior. But as she glanced around, she could not find her. Then a voice called out to her from the sky.

"Stay down!" the voice shouted. Tae looked up and saw the mysterious women high up on the mast again. As she attempted to regain her footing, the women leapt from the mast, another rope in hand, and landed beside her with such force that Tae involuntarily returned to her seated position. "Don't move!" the woman scolded, holding a hand out to her face.

Tae could see that the rope she was holding was attached to a sail which was now unfurling from the top of the mast. As the woman pulled it tighter, the sail whipped and snapped as it struggled to hold in the ferocious pocket of air it was trapping. This gave the small skiff more speed then Tae had ever witnessed in her life. It was if they were flying. In fact, they were. It was in this moment that Tae suddenly realized, the ship's bow was tilting upwards at an alarming rate, almost as if it were about to capsize. Until she noticed, the skiff was actually scaling the face of the wave.

With the enormous breath of wind the skiff had captured, it was able to take the wave head on. And just before it broke, like an enormous mouth about to entrap them, the vessel cleared the edge of the wave and flew over the other side. Through the several seconds of freefall, Tae's breath was taken from her. She planted herself flat on the deck, face down, eyes wide, reaching for anything she could find. But before she could let out a scream, the skiff's rear bounced down on top of the spine of the wave. The rest of the ship soon followed, skidding and sliding into position, fixating itself into a steady balance once again.

When the giant wave had passed into memory, Tae sat up on her knees, holding her arms to her chest, attempting to calm the storm of nerves inside of her. Without saying one word, the woman waked past Tae and to the rear of the skiff, steering in the direction of the coastline, away from the finishing makers. When Tae noticed this, she wanted to speak, but found her words stricken. What was appropriate to say in this moment? Today, there would be no winner. Only survivors. It seemed this was the lesson to be learned from this year's hooyim races.

Some time later, the entire port of Cera-Na was bustling with activity once again. Shouts, screams, singing and joyous laughter from the huge crowds all melted into one, under colorful banners and lively flags. Along the shoreline, every person in the tent city had gathered to see Tae safely returned, and to witness and pay tribute to the amazing sailor who had displayed such a fantastic show of courage.

The heroic skiff, with it's black flag still flapping in the wind, was now beached on the shore, purposely left in the shallow waters as a statement of victory and pride to be seen by all. Tavra and Onica fought their way through the crowds of beaming faces, and made their way quickly to the side of the skiff. With great relief to all, Tae finally revealed herself among the tattered and torn sails of the vessel, and cautiously jumped down into the muddy sand. She found her friends, and fell into their arms to silently weep, overcome with emotions from the extreme circumstances. The crowd around them let out a few cries of heartfelt reassurance, fully understanding the bravery and courage it required to compete. Her tears were not shameful this day.

As the mysterious women appeared on the bow of her ship, silhouetted in the bright rays of the sun, Tavra glanced up to her. With a slight motion of her head, Tavra granted the woman a respectful nod of appreciation. The woman did not seem to move. She remained still, as if a part of the very ship itself. As the crowd caught sight of her, they erupted in cheers and applause, quickly surrounding the small ship, beating on the sides and throwing flowers onto the deck in celebration.

This continued for a short while, until they were once again hushed by another stunning sight. The newly appointed, and very young Maudra Ethri began to make her way down to the shoreline, covered in layers of flowing robes of blue and green, decorated with seashells and gems, with special high boots fitted with large buckles, protecting her from the muddy sand.

As she came in front of the battered skiff, she stopped beside Tavra, Onica and Tae. She lifted a hand and placed it firmly on Tae's shoulder. "You did well today," she smiled. "Be proud."

Tae lifted her chin and looked to her Maudra, and dear friend. With streams of tears streaking down her dirty face, she gathered her emotions and pulled away from Onica's arms. "Thank you." Was all she could manage to say in that moment.

Maudra Ethri nodded slowly and respectfully, giving Tae's arm a firm squeeze. Then she shifted her gaze upwards to the deck of the skiff, examining the dark figure standing at the bow. "Athyra? Is that you?" she asked as she walked forward.

At first, the woman once again did not answer. With a sharp turn, she wandered toward the side of her ship, then jumped down into the crowd with an abrupt slash of water. "None other," she finally answered.

Now released from the shadows of the daylight, the crowd could now see every detail revealed. They knew her well. Athyra was a former Vapra, turned Sifan many years ago, and proud captain of her own samaudren. She was respected, and by some even revered. Skilled, knowledgeable, powerful, fearless and very beautiful. Her face was robust, but tarnished with ash and small scars. Framed by long wavy red hair, a very rare color among the Vapran culture, which was stained purple, brown and grey in areas by the coarse sea air, and tied back in a knotted braid held by bands of dark dried flowers. She wore a simple armored tunic, lavender in color, with black pants, belts and various straps and buckles hung around her waist like wild snakes. A short sword hung from the center of her back, and her knee high boots were of worn and weathered rough leather, held together by sailcloth and rope. But most striking were her piercing eyes; like black reflective glass, which appeared lifeless until the sun cast a glow in them.

"You have made me so proud on this day," Ethri praised. The people silenced themselves to hear her words. "And you have won the hearts of all who stand before you," she lifted both her arms into the air. Athyra's eyes wandered from face to face, taking in the emotions from every person in the crowd. She studied their happiness. She envied it. "You have proven to me today," Ethri continued. "That you are worthy of your title. You are a true captain to us all."

Athyra sighed sharply. "If that is what you believe, I am happy," her tone was almost scolding. "But I have not done this to win affection. I wish not to tame hearts," she stated, directing her voice to the crowd.

"What is it that you wish then?" Ethri wondered.

Athyra paused for a moment. "I wish to return home," she said dryly.

"Of course," Ethri replied uneasily. "But please, before you go, accept my mark of victory." Ethri unsheathed a small, silver container from her belt and popped the lid open. Inside was a bright red ink; the winners dye. But as Ethri began to dip her thumb into the ink, preparing to leave her special mark on the bow of the skiff, Athyra stepped forward and covered her hand softly. Ethri was confused and surprised.

"That mark does not belong to me," Athyra said in a hushed, firm voice. "Luck was our only savior today," Ethri felt almost stunned under the sullen stare of Athyra's dark eyes. "Leave that mark upon the rock that spared our lives. For we owe everything to the spirit of the seas, and for the life it granted us to continue this day." With that, she released her light grip on Ethri's hand and turned to walk away.

Ethri granted a shallow but respectful bow, and allowed her to retreat. But just as the disappointed crowd began to murmur with the apparent loss of celebration, Athyra stopped herself. She spun back toward the crowd, droplets of fresh ocean water spraying from her braids and onto the faces of nearby onlookers. She reached out to grab a bottle of Sifan rum from a random man in the crowd, and broke the neck of the bottle on a sharp rock beside her.

Before all of the liquid could escape the bottle, she threw it swiftly at the side of her ship, as the contents exploded into the wood with a sharp smash. The strong brown rum dripped down the side of the skiff, with tiny shards of glass stuck to the fibers. Then, with an explosive spark, she ignited a large match from her utility belt by striking it against the rough layers of her boots. She raised it into the air and carelessly tossed it onto the deck of the ship.

Slowly the ship began to burn. Then faster with each tarnished sail it touched. Until at last, the entire ship was engulfed with brilliant, blooming flames.

As the crowd watched with great wonder, Athyra stood before them with a fist raised to the bright sky, now filling with plumes of black smoke. "For the sea! For Thra!" She shouted, pumping her fist with each word. The crowd erupted in cheers and celebration again. Underneath the blue of the sky, and beside the blue of the waves, she remained for a moment of glory, invincible against them. It was not a single sailor, but the Sifa themselves who had won this day.