3rd day of the 3rd month 650th year of the 8th era

A knock on the door sounded and Araki stirred. He opened his eyes and saw golden light streaming in through the open porthole. He turned and stepped out of his hammock, placing his feet on the cool floorboards.

A snore rose from behind him and he looked back and saw the elf from last night lying face-down, sprawled on the floor. So that was not a dream. He shook his head and pulled the door open slightly.

Outside, Gazali stood shirtless, dressed only black slacks, his sword belted to his hip. His chest taut with muscles, he cut an imposing figure in the early predawn light. Araki admired the body and the dedication that would have gone into acquiring and maintaining such a figure.

“Training begins now. Get your sword,” Gazali said his voice a soft whisper.

Araki nodded and closed the door. He padded across the room and retrieved his own trousers, boots, and sword. He tightened his belt and then stepped into his boots.

Stepping out into the corridor, Araki said, “The strangest thing happened last night.”

Gazali raised an eyebrow.

“I was visited by a drunk elf.” Araki opened the door wide and stepped aside.

Gazali peeked inside the room and chuckled. “I was wondering where she got to last night.”

“You mean you know her?”

“She is the captain’s mother,” Gazali said.

“She can’t be, she is very young,” Araki said as he closed the door.

Gazali shrugged and walked to the end of the corridor and pushed open the ornate door. Araki followed him and stepped out into the early morning sunlight. The deck was sparsely populated with sailors dressed in rough brown trousers spooling ropes, climbing the rigging while a few sat near the mainmast looking out to the endless blue of the sea. The sun, just peeking over the horizon, was almost hidden by a light fog that rested on the blue green water. Gazali led Araki down a set of steps to the main deck and drew his sword.

“Draw your sword. I will teach you the basic forms,” Gazali said. Araki drew his sword. “There are three basic styles to sword fighting: rock, wind and water.” Gazali took the first position in the steel shield movement. “Each fighting style has a preferred weapon of choice; I will take you through them all and then you can make your own decision.”

Gazali moved from first to second position and into third position. Araki followed his movements. “That was steel shield and its three positions. In this stance you must always keep your opponent directly in front of you. If he moves, you can move like this.” Gazali took the position first position and then went to second and then turned to the right and took first position again.

“This style doesn’t seem to have an attack.”

“You’re right. This form works well when you don’t know the skill of your opponent, it blocks his attacks and allows you to watch him and possibly tire him out for your own attack.”

Araki stood beside Gazali and took the first position. Then he followed Gazali into second and third, and back to first position.

“Rock, wind and water each have a basic attack and a basic defence. They also have an advanced form,” Gazali continued. “We will introduce them when you know the basics. There is one more style I should mention, fire. It has no defence and has two basic attacks and one advanced form. The advanced form will get you killed.”

Araki nodded.

“Let’s repeat steel shield again.” They both took first position and went through the three positions, then turned and repeated the positions. The three positions moved them back five steps. After each set of the positions, they turned to their left and repeated the positions, circling around the main mast. The sun was in midmorning position when a thin waif-like girl dressed only in a slave’s grey skirt came to Gazali’s elbow and whispered to him. He nodded, and she darted away.

Gazali stopped and sheathed his sword. “We have been invited to breakfast,” he said.

They were both coated in sweat that glistened in the sun. Araki’s arms were aching, and he was glad that breakfast had been called. He was unsure if he could continue the punishing practice Gazali had enforced.

“I didn’t know that the ship had slaves,” Araki said, and he sheathed his sword.

“The captain keeps only one slave; it helps keep the ship in line—a legacy from the previous captain. I guess it helps them know their place.”

Araki nodded. Gazali led Araki back up the to the quarter deck where he pulled open the ornate door and walked inside. Araki closed it behind him and followed Gazali to the captain’s quarters at the end of the corridor. As they stepped into the room, the far door opened and the slave beckoned them in. The room was palatial, featuring a beautiful tapestry that was sprawled across the walls depicting the creation of the world as per the codex. There was a depiction of the gods Pierre and Petra wrapped in each other’s arms; the next section was the world of Sa’saresh being birthed by Petra, a glowing orb of blue and green. The other gods watched as Ravensil brought forth elves from the plains and dwarves from the pits of the earth. Moref brought forth trolls from the snow and orcs from the mountains. Justicar brought forth the men from the rivers to bring balance to the world. The floor was rich burgundy, polished to a fine shine. From the centre of the room hung a delicate chandelier over a stout wooden table, also highly polished. On the far side hung another hammock and in one corner an ivory bath sat bolted to the floor. At the end of the table sat the captain. As they entered, she rose and smiled warmly at them. The table was set for three with fine crockery and bright cutlery. She was dressed in a simple white sleeveless sun dress.

“Please excuse the palatial setting. The previous captain was very wealthy.” She indicated with her outstretched arms for them to sit beside her at the table.

Gazali smiled as they sat down. “Mother always did have great taste.”

“She did. Bless her soul,” said the captain.

The waif-like slave girl came from across the room, pushed a trolley to the table, and began to serve them their breakfast, setting down plates heavy with eggs and fried sausage.

“How was the training this morning?” Metilia asked.

“I think my arms will he hurting all day,” Araki laughed.

“What did you teach him?” Metilia asked Gazali, concern in her voice.

“Just the movements of steel shield,” Gazali said. “We were not sparring. It would be too easy to beat him now; he can barely hold the positions.”

“Do you have enough time to teach him all the forms?” Metilia asked.

“I only have three days; only enough time to teach him rock style,” Gazali said. “I know we were asked to train him, but I doubt that we can in the time that we have.”

Metilia nodded. “He needs another teacher for when he leaves us.”

“Can I hire one in Ishtaree?” Araki asked.

Gazali shrugged.

“We have never been there. Unfortunately, you will be on your own when we get there,” Metilia asked.

“You can’t spare one person?” Araki asked.

“If you let your mother go, she might be of use to him,” Gazali commented. “Remember how helpful she was to Tunio.”

Metilia smiled a smile that was more of a grimace. “What happened to Mother? I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Last I saw her she was lying passed out on the floor in his room,” Gazali said, pointing a forkful of food at Araki.

“How can she be your mother? She looks half your age?” Araki asked incredulous.

Anger flashed across Metilia’s face.

“Not smart, boy,” Gazali growled.

“Sorry,” Araki murmured.

“Araki, how old are you?” Metilia asked, her brow creased.

“I turned eighteen last month.”

“How old do you think I look?”

“Fifty … ish.”

The anger in Metilia’s face melted and she laughed. “I am over seventy years old.”

“Your mother looks like she is in her twenties. How did that happen?” Araki asked confused.

“You know my mother is an elf, right?”

Araki nodded.

“Elves are long-lived. As far as my mother’s people are concerned, she is still incredibly young. Old for an elf is over nine hundred years. My mother is nearing—”

The door swung open and Aquillia stood in the door, barefoot and wearing only a faded green skirt.

“Mother,” Metilia exclaimed, “we were just talking about you.”

Aquillia pressed her hand to her eyes and hung her head.

“Who was it this time?” Metilia asked.

“After you had the last one flogged, no one will touch me,” Aquillia stated, a pout on her face.

Metilia sighed and clapped her hands. The slave girl appeared at her elbow.

“Prepare a seat for my mother,” Metilia said.

“Darling, please. Do not make any loud noises. I have a hangover,” Aquillia muttered.

The slave girl placed a chair opposite Metilia and Aquillia sank into it. She placed a plate of food in front of Aquillia and then placed the cutlery around the plate.

“Mother, I was just telling Araki here that you are nearly three hundred and ninety years old.”

“Don’t remind me,” Aquillia muttered around a mouthful of breakfast.

“He was also complimenting me on how young I look. He said I looked fifty.”

“If you’re fifty, how old do I look?”

“He said half what I look,” Metilia pouted.

“Last night you said that you knew my grandfather,” Araki interjected to Aquillia.

“If you are Tunio’s grandson then I also knew your great-grandfather … you guys die off so quickly,” she moaned.

Everyone at the table sniggered.

“You mentioned that my father has a deformity,” Araki said.

Araki caught a look that pass between Metilia and Gazali.

“What was it?” Araki pressed.

“He was stunted,” Aquillia said, around a mouthful of eggs. “So, he managed to find a wife. Who is your mother?” Aquillia asked.

“My mother is the Lady Clovea Verna.”

“Clovea,” Aquillia said, as if tasting the word. “Is she a gnome?”

“Yes, she is,” answered Araki.

“That would give you a unique heritage.”

“How so?” Araki asked.

“Your great-grandfather married the princess to the dark elves, and if you say that your mother was a gnome, that will make you part dark elf and part gnome.” Aquillia peered at him, her eyes squinting. “You have the pointed ears common for half-elves, but I am disappointed to see no wings. Apart from your ears there is nearly no indication that you are gnomish.”

Araki sat back in his chair. He was shocked. I did not know my ears were the indication of dark elven blood. I thought that they were from my gnomish heritage. How come I did not get the wings?

“The fact that your father was born at all is something of a miracle to these two.” Aquillia said swallowing a mouthful of breakfast.

“How so?” Araki said coming out of his reflection.

“I am an elf and my daughter over there is half-elf but has had no children of her own. When your father was born, they became worried their children would also be ... deformed. The fear ruined their marriage.”

Araki looked at Metilia, who hung her head, tears streaming down her face. He turned to look at Gazali, who had placed a hand on Metilia’s hand and was also weeping.

“Do they still have time?” Araki asked.

Aquillia shook her head. “Metilia is no longer capable of producing children.”

***

Araki stood next to the bowsprit and gazed out into the blue sea. A cough came from behind, and he turned. Aquillia stood, her long brown hair and skirt blowing in the wind.

“I hear that you need a weapons trainer for when you leave us,” she said. Araki nodded. “I also hear that I was suggested.”

“Gazali suggested you, but I am not certain if your daughter agreed,” Araki said.

“I am my own person, and I still need to visit Ishtaree, and Ashford,” Aquillia said.

“Gazali implied that you were helpful to my grandfather.”

“I was. I helped him find that belt you are now wearing. It was also how he met your grandmother.”

“My grandmother said that he freed her and then proposed to her.”

“I am not certain how he got enough money to free her. Hiwot only gave him one folia, certainly not enough to free anyone.”

“Who is Hiwot?”

“Hiwot was the former captain of this ship, and Gazali’s mother.”

“I feel that I am missing something you all know.”

Aquillia sighed and stepped up to the bowsprit next to him. “Your great-grandfather created a bit of a mess with his actions and we are still dealing with the fallout. Metilia and Gazali are half brother and sister, to your grandfather.”

“So that means my great grandfather was not faithful to his wife.”

“Oh! He was. Just that she wasn’t the first woman he slept with.”

“That means he had children with you and this Hiwot …” Araki said. Aquillia nodded. “Were there any others?”

“There was one other we knew about. We didn’t actually find out about Metilia and Gazali, even though they spent a great deal of time together, until we met Anatoli.”

“That sounds like quite a story,” mused Araki.

“It was,” replied Aquillia.

“Do I have any cousins by this Anatoli?”

“We know that Anatoli ran a brothel back in Peace Landing. Apart from a small incident when he stole Tunio’s sword, he kind of disappeared. I did hear from Tunio that Anatoli had a child and that is why he backed away from pursuing Tunio and his father’s sword.”

“So, I have relatives I don’t know about back home.”

“Yes.”

“Does my mother know about this?” Araki asked.

Aquillia shrugged. “It is possible your grandfather told her. I think if she didn’t tell you I am inclined to believe that she doesn’t know about him.”

“What was his name? Maybe I can look them up when I return.”

“He was Anatoli Kaori.” Aquillia said.

Araki nodded and looked back out into the vast endless sea. Aquillia stood beside him and let him process the information.

***

Araki closed the door behind him and released his sword belt, placing it on the table. He kicked off his boots and pulled off his trousers. He sat down on the hammock and then swung his legs into the hammock, causing it to swing gently. He closed his eyes and was soon dreaming.

Araki stood at the opening of a dark cave. A woman stood beside him. She was ethereal, and she smiled at him. The smile warmed him as she reached out to him, then faded into nothing. Everything went black and he was astride a horse thundering across the plains. Beside him were many other horses with riders. Everything went black again and Araki was crouching on the rooftop, his whole body painted black, his breathing shallow. Below him, spotting his mark, Araki drew his dagger. He took a step forward and then leaped down onto the man below him and sunk the dagger into his neck. The man crumpled to the floor without a sound as blood began to pool under him. He pulled out his dagger, wiped it on the man’s shirt, and sheathed it. Then a bass voice echoed into his mind,

A man’s heart is fickle,

true must a man’s heart be

to wield the spirit.

Honour and glory

reveal the soul.

Remain true to your word

and see glory.

A baritone voice joined the bass and echoed in his head,

A king stays with a lie.

Then the baritone voice continued alone,

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow

Return to truth,

Separate truth from lie.

The sword divides,

Truth sets the captives free.

Araki awoke and looked around the room. The moonlight streamed in through the porthole. The sound of the Fleur de Lis cutting through the waves soothed his troubled mind. He lay back into the hammock and slept again. I am going mad. Hearing voices … Grandmother did say the sword and belt had an agenda of their own. What could she have meant by that? Could the voices be the sword and the belt? How would that be possible? Araki closed his eyes and sleep took him.