blood in the water
“Why is it that the victims always carry the shame
that should fall upon the shoulders of their oppressors?”
SYNOPSIS
As the children of saba seek to uncover a truth that could destroy all aattikan life, the lines between myth and reality blend. Demons walk the earth but they aren't what the legends told them to expect.
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Meanwhile, aboard the sin eater, Courik walks a fine line between life and death. completely on his own he must quickly learn how to navigate a legacy of power, cruelty, and chains.
Beo wandered leisurely through the maze of tents; his only guidance was the sounds of festivity off in the distance. The final races had taken place while he was with the medic. He knew Kianni and Garos had both ridden, but he had no idea who had won.
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Having had his fill of both horses and races, he made his way toward a group of musicians playing small wooden instruments and leather drums of different sizes. People of all ages danced in front of the musicians, and off to the side, there was a large fire encircled by stones. Groups of people sat around the fire, scattered about on large logs, laughing, eating, drinking, and telling stories with their families and friends.
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He smiled at the simplicity of Aattikan happiness. At the same time, he never felt more alone in the world.
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“Beo!” a familiar voice shouted above the noise.
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He turned at the sound of his name and saw Vinneryk waving to him from under a large, open, canvas-covered tent that served as a tavern. The young Aattikai sat at a wooden table close to Kianni, surrounded by several Caldarola, including Garos. As Beo approached them, Garos stood up and made a place for him at the table. “Come, Beo. Sit.” He offered his own stool and then shouted once more, “Rian! Bring mead and food for our guests!”
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Beo took the vacant seat and found himself smiling at the joyful enthusiasm of those around him.
“How did you catch that demon?” one man asked. A young Caldi on his right chimed in, “What made you choose that one to begin with?” A third from the back asked, “Did you think you were going to die?!” Beo’s only defense was to laugh at the onslaught of questions.
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“Back you heathens! Back!” Garos shouted at his kin. “Let the man at least get a drink first!”
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As if on cue, a beautiful woman with copper hair and light brown eyes walked over with a serving tray. She wore what Vinneryk had called a nikoma, or traditional dress, that tied over her right shoulder. The red fabric fell to her calves and the left side had a slit that started on the outside of her thigh, widening as it went down. He realized where his eyes had been traveling and snapped them back up to meet hers.
She raised a brow and then flashed him a long look as bold as the one he’d unintentionally given her.
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After several long seconds, she placed a wooden platter with a turkey leg down in front of him, followed by a wooden mug filled with spicy, brown mead. By way of thanks, he raised the corner of his mouth in a charming half-smile.
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She flashed him a smile to match before she turned and went on her way. As soon as she left, Beo realized for the first time that the table was completely silent. He looked over and realized that all of their eyes were upon him. It was then that the table exploded into laughter.
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“You’d have better luck taming that horse of yours, mate. Rian is far too much for you and your broken ribs,” Garos said as he playfully slapped him on the back. Beo laughed along with them in good spirits.
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“I don’t know,” Beo said with a grin. “It was because I didn’t tame the horse that I won the race.”
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“Here, here!” Kianni cheered, raising her glass. “To unmanageable women!”
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All at the table raised their glasses and joined her in a drink. Beo grinned as he set his mug down. From Kianni’s wild smile and infectious energy, he knew who had won the final race.
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She was beautiful and brilliant in her youth and happiness, glowing radiantly in the light of her recent victory. Vinneryk drank in the sight of her, which impaired his wit far more than the drink in his mug. Beo smiled. He couldn’t be happier for the two of them.
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“Well,” Garos said, playfully nudging Beo’s shoulder. “Now that you’ve won a minor race, you must come back next year and try a harder one.”
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Beo’s throat welled up. The thought of someone actually requesting his presence was utterly mind-blowing. It was so unexpected that he had no idea how to respond.
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Garos’ laughter filled the tent as he smacked Beo heartily on the arm. “The poor lad’s tumble in the grass has scrambled his mind. You just need a few more wild rides under your belt for it all to make sense again.”
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The Caldarola all laughed again, and this time, Vinneryk lifted his mug of mead in the air. “To wild rides and freedom!” he shouted.
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Beo realized that was a common Caldarola toast when everyone at the table and even those nearby raised their mugs and echoed Vinn’s toast. “To wild rides and freedom!”
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Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, Garos moved to pull an extra stool over. “Rian! Come, love. Tell the story of Belladonus. Our guests need to hear it.” He looked at Vinneryk pointedly, and Vinn nodded his understanding. Whatever silent conversation was transpiring between them was well over his head.
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Beo turned to ask Garos what he had meant when he saw Rian walking over towards them. As quick as a snap, he forgot what he’d wanted to ask in the first place.
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She cleared her throat as though to speak, but it was Garos who bellowed out to those nearby. “Silence! Shut your traps! Rian is about to start!”
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Children who had been running around the tables went and took a seat in the grass as they turned their eyes upwards towards Rian. A musician who had been on break for a drink moved and took a closer seat, straining his ear to listen. As Beo looked around, he noticed that all the tables under the canvas-covered tavern had stopped their conversations and were now focused on Rian.
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It was then that she spoke, and her sing-song voice entranced them all.
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“Belladonus was born into this world wild and free, son of wind and horse.
He would race the eagle on the breeze and soar over the valleys of The People
on white wings and natural grace.”
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It was then that the musician began to softly play his ateo with a small bow. The tune was light and airy, and Beo could imagine Belladonus flying with abandon.
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“To Belladonus… life was a dance, and the wind was the rhythm.
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Many men would look to the heavens in wonder, but many more
looked out of greed. Men, forever destined to walk the land,
thought that if they could catch Belladonus and ride upon his back,
they would know true freedom too.
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T’was then the free became the hunted.”
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The tune of the musician lost its airy playfulness, and the notes became frantic.
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“Belladonus flew, and he flew, but thirst cannot be outpaced.
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The tune plummeted lower, ominous to the ear.
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“Early one morning, he landed in an emerald field, and t’was there he
paid the price. That of his liberty for his life.
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Ropes and nets were cast. Anchored from the sky, severed from the soul
… a wild heart ensnared.
The prospect of stolen freedom enticed the inhabitants of the land.
Claims were made, straws were drawn, but the fires of avarice could not
be quenched. And so, the fighting began.”
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“Brother against brother!” Rian shouted.
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BOOM! Beo nearly jumped out of his skin as all those gathered beat their mugs upon the table in unison.
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“Son against father!”
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BOOM!
“All wanted to be first to ride upon the back of Belladonus!”
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BOOM! The tune was crushing now. He could feel his heart keeping time in his chest, about to explode.
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“One man, having been bested twice in the fight for Belladonus,
drew his mighty axe. Seeking to spite his brothers, he brought it down
upon the back of Belladonus.”
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The music stopped abruptly, and Beo felt his breath stop with it.
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“As swiftly as the wings fell, did the fighting end. No longer a quick route
to freedom, Belladonus was no longer wanted at all.
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Ropes were cut, and bleeding nets discarded. Belladonus lay broken and
abandoned, left to rot in a lonely green field. He called to the skies for his
friend the eagle, but only silence did resound."
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The music started once more, as sad a song as he had ever heard.
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“On trembling legs did Belladonus rise, shock and pain profound."
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The musician, knowing what was coming, made his ateo scream boldly with several quick strokes of his bow.
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“Witness, like lightning, the tempest’s rebirth!” Rian shouted, boldly thrusting a fist into the air.
“Thunder rolled heavy as bold hooves struck earth!”
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Several of the Caldarola raised their drinks high, whooping with excitement. The musician played as lively as he had at the tale's beginning.
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“Belladonus ran through the valleys just as swiftly as he had flown above them,” Rian sang.
“Wild and free, just as before.”
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As she finished her tale, the room exploded with cheers, applause, and whistles. Garos threw his arms wide, and his booming voice rang through the festival tent.
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“EVIL MEN MAY TAKE YOUR WINGS!” he bellowed to his people.
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And they shouted back in unison, “BUT THEY CANNOT BREAK A WILD HEART!”
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Garos lifted his mug and drained its contents, spilling most of it down his front. Once it was empty, he slammed it down on the table, creating a chain reaction of booming thunder, as others copied his actions.
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Beo laughed and joined in, as did Vinneryk and Kianni. When he’d drained his mug, he slammed it back on the table.
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Sensing the mood had shifted, the musician realized his break was over, and he began to play a quick-stepping tune as he walked out to join his fellow players.
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Beo looked around for one of the servers with mead on their trays, but a voice cut through the noise around him, “Can you dance?”
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He whirled around and saw that it was Rian. Her light brown eyes were playful, and her full lips held a mischievous smile meant to challenge.
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Rising to his feet, he forgot the ache in his ribs as he extended his hand. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”
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Her smile spread as she took his hand and led him from the tent. He laughed as he heard the jeers and taunts coming from the table behind him. Following her like a lamb, they crossed the grounds to where the others danced to the lively music.
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