A swarm of gulls was following the boat, hopeful for a few rotten fish heads chucked over the side. It was scorching, and the wide expanse of blue sky did nothing to mask the heat. Zahra was spending the morning hiding under the shade of a dinghy, watching the waves through the gap in the rails. Omir was rarely outside, preferring to spend time alone in the cabin, fiddling with his scrolls and books. For a while she gazed at the shimmering reflection of the sun on waves, entranced by it's ever-wavering shine. The world seemed to drop away until all that remained was light and the cool, salty breeze.

She wondered what they would do when they got to the Kove. She had heard that the province of Gerighur was an isolated region, a peninsula of rugged mountains and shallow glens, barely connected to the Empire. Although their culture differed, they still paid taxes to the central regions, and of course the land was ruled by a true avero line, House Austyn. Gerighur was a wild land beyond the guarded trading routes, with rumours of painted savages and hordes of monsters that prowled amongst the craggy hills.

Still, it would be interesting to visit a real, breathing settlement—one other than her home town of Vesper—the little fishing village they had passed hardly counted as civilisation. Would it be much different? Abruptly her brother's face flashed in her mind, from a time when he was full of life and laughing at a joke he had made. Breath hitched in her throat, and she stood up, stumbling at the deck's soft swaying beneath her feet. She missed him, the trouble they had made together, how he could brighten her day with just a word. Now, it seemed like she could never take anything for granted. Never let her guard down, knowing that her world was fragile, and easily broken. A mere handful of sand, flowing away through her fingertips, no matter how she tried to keep a hold of the grains.

Omir went a long way to filling that hollow feeling of uncertainty, but it wasn't the same. Those killers... The ones who had forced her brother to die for her... One day, she wasn’t sure how, but she would get them back. A word came to her mind, one learned only recently from Omir's teachings. Vengeance. It was a fitting word, one that rolled easily off the tongue. She imagined the laughing man, the leader of the Maulers, the one that had haunted her dreams, but instead of striking her down she now did the striking, with a blade that entered his body again and again until he begged her for mercy, died screaming.

Zahra fingered the dagger at her belt. They hadn't been able to practice combat since they got on the ship, but every day she felt stronger, quicker, and self-assured that if anyone crossed her she would be able to defend herself. Omir’s teachings were useful indeed, both for the skills gained and the desperate need to excel in something, to advance herself. She didn’t want to be left behind as just another gutter rat, scraping to survive.

Her and Omir were only allowed on part of the deck and their cabin, forbidden to travel the rest of the boat and especially the hold. But that was only if they caught her. After nightfall she crept around, remembering Omir’s words of the night’s shroud, exploring every nook and cranny of the ship. She discovered that the hold was full of barrels and boxes. Bolts of cloth, sacks of grain, and a sour, fruity smell from the barrels. She wandered around easily, but there was a room in the hold that interested her. It was always guarded by one or two men, but Zahra waited and waited nearby, kneeling in the shadow of a barrel.

Only one guard tonight, and eventually he would leave for a call of nature, or in search of a smoke. She waited, listening to the waves and the creaking of the ship. She was almost nodding off when her chance came, and when the way was clear, she quietly checked the door. The handle turned, and clicked. Locked. She took the lock picks from her pocket, the same ones Omir had told her to practice with, using an old lock that he had pilfered from a carpenter in the fishing village. Worry of the returning guard made her fumble, but she persevered and the lock yielded. Zahra pulled the handle.

The room was small, almost a closet, and contained a single chest. Fiddling with the latch, she eased it open with only the whisper of a squeak. Most of the contents were uninteresting – embroidered dresses of fine woven cloth, several silver goblets engraved with chevrons, parchments with written messages – sappy love letters, she mused, glad for her ability to read for the first time. Rummaging in the chest, she uncovered two precious things. The first was an ornate, gold-hilted dagger with an undulating blade - a kris - slightly damp and shiny from its coating of oil. The second item was a thick bronze ring, engraved with runes and set with a large green stone.

Faint voices echoed down the hall, becoming louder in their approach. The thief deftly pocketed the loot, closing the chest with an audible snap and leaving the closet, closing the door. She had just run clear behind cover when the guard - and a second man - sauntered back to their place. Zahra breathed a sigh of relief, and bit back a laugh. She thought of Omir’s earlier words. Goods belonged to those who could claim them.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

The elation was only slightly dampened when she realised there was no easy way to escape from the room without the guards hearing her. She would have to wait until the morning.

***

The days passed until Zahra was sick of the endless sea around them, and grimaced at the thought of another meal of bony fish and wormy sea biscuit. "Is that Gerighur?" She said to no one in particular, motioning to a thin wisp of smoke on the horizon. Omir, standing beside her on the deck, shook his head.

Since the morning, a thin strip of green had appeared and swelled across the horizon. Now, the promise of land was smothered by grey smoke. As the ship passed closer, the smell of cooking fires reached them, and the captain turned away from the source, unwilling to bring misfortune to her own ship.

The swarm of gulls that had followed them since breaking shore laughed in a cacophony as Zahra squinted to make out a flotsam of smashed wood and twisted, burning sails.

A sailor spat over the side of the fishing ship. "Pirates," he hissed.

The rest of the day passed without mention of the incident, and the smoke soon disappeared behind them as the shoreline in front took proper form. Mountains stretched high above the bare shore, pillars of stone that the captain navigated skilfully as they passed to the inner bay of Kove.

Soon they could make out the town, situated in one of the gaps between the cliffs that allowed entrance to the lands of Gerighur. Zahra gasped when she realised the cliffs had been sculpted, images of gargantuan soldiers wielding swords, armies of men on horseback with banners of House Austyn, and mighty siege ships that sent destruction to an unholy sea creature that had a thousand limbs. The work was superb, but the fine details had eroded over time and from the salt of the sea air. Zahra wondered how it had even been done, the murals were so large, it was as if the gods had shaped the cliffs with their own hands. How had they built such a thing?

"They were constructed by builders of ancient times, even before the Empire." said Omir from beside her on the deck, echoing her thoughts.

"Before the Empire?" Zahra asked.

"Yes, my apprentice. Such a time existed, in ages past. It was a time of chaos... and great change." said Omir.

As the town grew larger on the horizon, Zahra noticed that it was protected by a stone palisade, hewn from the cliffs themselves. The harbour itself was bordered by the largest chains she had ever seen. Loops and spikes of dark metal large enough for a man to climb through, and formidable enough to foul the passage of any ship. As they approached, the barrier rose in a mechanical clang. Horns blazed from a tall lighthouse as they glided in, grey clouds of smoke rising from the settlement that rested between the cliffs. There was a rush of activity on the deck, and in no time at all the small trading vessel was moored to the jetty.

Omir thanked the captain, handing over a few more coins and they talked for some minutes about the long path North, to Usgard and the villages beyond the stronghold of Kove. When Omir asked about lodgings, the sailors practically raved about a small establishment on the coast, The Sleeping Fish, that served the best smoked haddie soup. It was only two days' hike up the White Road, the main trade route that stretched from the coast all the way North, a direct path through the peninsula, through the fortress city of Usgard, and up to the lowlands of Central Sarkoth. Being an important trade route, the White Road was kept clear of bandits and criminals and protected by the guard-lodges placed every twenty-five leagues. It was even patrolled by knights on horseback, she had heard. Zahra waited as they talked.

Zahra fidgeted as the sailors put down the gangplank, splintered wood that clattered on the dock. An inspector came down to look at the crates being hauled off – smuggling was rife and most goods were taxed. They had just stepped onto the solid timber of the jetty, their legs swaying, when there was a shout and the thunder of heavy boots on wood.

A man approached from the boat deck, one that neither Omir nor Zahra had seen before. His clothes were too fine for him to be a sailor, a silk shirt with golden trim.

"He doesn't look too happy," said Omir, looking to the man beside him.

"STOP THEM!" The finely-dressed man commanded. He ran fast down the gangplank towards them, and Omir turned. His fist met the man's chin, and he tumbled into the sea. Omir stepped back to Zahra who was standing like an idiot, watching the situation.

“Run.” Omir said. The command was becoming familiar.