Star of Silvaria: Chapter II
Suchidal
“My Essa. . . my Essa!”
My first thought, as I began to be aware of the waves licking my hand, was, perhaps understandably yet also confusedly, who or what Essa was.
Then, as a little bit of light pierced the dark haze behind my lids, I wondered who was speaking; then, as I blinked, where on earth, and how on earth, I was, because the placid sea that greeted my eyes was certainly not the coast of Saint-Raphael, let alone France. How did I manage to neither be soaked nor aching, and finally – the beach was empty.
Empty.
The unformed word jolted me to my feet and I scanned the horizon on all sides.
Before me, the ocean was an unusual sparkling shade, and pearlescent sand stretched away on either side, curving around a rocky and forested coastland.
The only presence on the beach was myself, and the only marks in the sand were my own.
Alone – I didn’t want to think the first half-formed image that came to mind, so Daddy and Joachim must have washed up farther along – surely, since I had sustained no damage from the tsunami, neither would they.
The Lady’s face had been reassuring, then, and so I had to remember that gentle smile now.
The sand was heavy as I tried to run down the beach, first one way and then the other, calling for my father and Joachim.
They couldn’t be all that far. A tsunami was only so wide, and I couldn’t have taken us so far from Saint-Raphaël. Only, I hesitated to admit for real that this was no coastline of France, or even Italy, or Spain. Nor, less plausibly yet, Africa.
Then again, my vision could have suffered. Could have, if not for a lack of human life and airplane trails across the sky.
The wind was whipping up, slapping my calls back into my face, and bringing the sand with it.
Wherever Daddy and Joachim were, they would be looking for me, I knew that much.
I bent my head and touched my locket, which also had escaped unscathed from the saltwater.
That’s when I saw it.
There was a mark in the sand, one I hadn’t made.
It had claws unlike any print I recognized, and a dragging trail, as of a tail, and possibly something more.
I froze. My eyes, roving, picked out another set off to the right, which led back the way I had come.
I began to feel that I was not, in fact, alone, and that there may have been worse than the ocean to blame for my solitary presence.
I glanced over my shoulder. A shock shook me and I jumped.
Sitting silently behind me, eyes scarlet in the sunlight, was a creature that both answered and asked further questions.
It was something prehistoric, something crocodilian with knife-like armored skin, something with leering jaws full of yellowed fangs as thick as my wrist. Something which couldn’t have been of a man’s world.
As I stared, the jaws slowly cracked into a ghastly grimace, the eyes lit, and my frozen fear abruptly melted and I ran, zig-zagging as I’d been taught to do, but this massive creature had long legs built for running.
The heavy sand kept catching at my feet, forcing me to stumble, so I made for the trees, hoping I could lose the creature in the thickets.
I didn’t make it.
Hardly had I changed course, than a far-wandering tree root flung me to the ground.
My blood was pounding in my head, preventing me from catching my breath. I threw a glance back to see where the monster was, as I struggled to rise from the sand. My heart was racing so quickly that the image began to swirl into colored spots.
The crocodilian was much closer than I’d thought, close enough to see its second row of teeth as it bore down on me, claws digging into the sand, unhindered by its weight.
An unearthly whistle shot out of the forest past me, ringing off the rocks and trees. The monster stumbled back, stupefied. Something else blazed past me, and it took a few moments to fathom that they were a pair of horses and riders, the men with spears in hand as they drove the creature back, giving me space to run.
Someone touched my arm amid the monster’s battle cries; a woman was beside me, her amber hair veiled by violet net, embroidered with ribbons and almost invisible beadwork. She knelt there with me as the battle raged, not stirring to leave, but turned my head away, as though she already knew that we were safe.
A scream rang out as one of the riders drove his spear into the creature’s neck just behind its skull, and it crumpled, with only one last hiss.
The woman took her hand away after seeing this, and both riders dismounted. The younger kicked a stone into the crocodilian’s jaw. When no response came, the elder plunged his spear into the sand to dry the blood from the blade.
I looked back up to the woman who now turned to me with a smile. The sweetest pair of blue eyes that I had ever seen sparkled sympathetically.
“My name is Mirala,” she said softly. “We have come to help you, little one.” She turned to the men who were still inspecting the crocodilian’s carcass.
“Raphael!” she called softly, “Rolf, come!”
The riders approached, and I realized that they weren’t men, but boys – one of them only a little older than myself, and the elder was about Joachim’s age, which placed him near eighteen or nineteen.
Mirala turned and spoke to me.
“These are my sons, Raphael and Rolf.”
I looked up at them, more mystified than ever – they might as well have been medieval angels.
Raphael's olive eyes were sympathetic as he knelt at my side. His hair might have been perfectly carved from mahogany, and his proud, tanned face showed great courage and virtue, something I normally couldn’t see.
As for Rolf, if I thought that his mother's eyes were the sweetest that I had ever seen, Rolf’s were an unearthly bright sapphire, like an ocean mirroring the sky after sunset. His face showed no weakness, framed by the golden hair that was pushed back. He could have been a twin to any image of St. Michael I’d ever seen, and might have been more elven, or angelic, than human.
I didn’t think I’d said anything about their angel-features out loud, but I saw Rolf’s eyes laugh, and he said to me, “Don’t think we’re angels, though I forgive your puzzlement – my name would be Michael, but I’m called Rolf after my grandfather.”
I gave him another puzzled look that only made both boys smile.
“Never mind,” Raphael said gently, “you’ve had a rough day, my little one. Are you alright? You shouldn’t be alone. You’re blessed we were nearby, or you may not have survived.”
I stared at him for a second, at a loss for words, with too many questions vying to be asked. I started to nod, then shook my head, because I definitely was not alright, but I didn’t know how to say that.
“Hey, don’t worry. We’re here now. You’ll be alright soon,” Rolf assured me, giving me a smile that was more comforting than the words.
“Now, what’s your name, little one?” Mirala inquired of me.
“Thérèse.”
Rolf cocked his head.
“That’s a new one. You aren’t one from here, I think. How did you come?”
I bit my lip, for it didn’t make any sense, as I tried to quell the overwhelming mass of confusion. Where was here, who were they, what was that creature? But most importantly, why couldn’t I find my family?
“A tsunami,” I said at last.
They all looked as bewildered as I felt.
“A su-what now?” Rolf repeated.
“Um. . . tidal wave?”
“Ah, one of those,” Raphael answered knowingly. “Can’t say I know of anyone who’s come that way to Silvaria before -”
“But my family,” I cut him off impatiently, and finally made it successfully to my feet, no longer shaking. “My father and my brother were with me, and I can’t find them.”
“Hush,” Mirala soothed me, rising with me. “It’s not uncommon for pairings to be separated, love. They’re likely come ashore further north or south. We have many watchtowers along the coast, one of which will bring them in. We’ll know when we reach home, where you’ll be safe.”
“But-”
“Mother is right, Thérèse, we can’t stay here,” Raphael warned me. “With all the possible regions for them to be in, it will be quicker if we find out from home.”
“Please, let me find them!”
“Thérèse, trust us!” Rolf replied. He jerked his head towards the dead crocodilian. “The longer we wander through any territory, the more suchides will find us, and there’s no guarantee we can protect you twenty times by midnight, not even thrice. And, we’re in for a storm. Sometime you’ll understand, but it’s imperative that we reach safety before it opens on us. We’ll hardly have time enough.”
With that, I found myself with nothing to defend me, and I was brought up to the horses as Mirala’s mare trotted from the trees.
“You may ride with me, Thérèse, if you’ll feel safe,” Raphael offered.
I nodded numbly and Raphael boosted me into the saddle, swinging on behind me. He steadied me as he pressed his stallion into a gallop.
It seemed no questions were going to be answered, not for too, too long.
I tried to console myself. It might be a nightmare.
A very, very, real nightmare.
And then my new friends might not be real. Was that any better?
I groaned to myself, and Raphael pressed my shoulder reassuringly.
The muted greens of the thickets gave way to flashing teal and emerald, through stranding, stolid trees that wove gilded patterns across the stormy sky.
It might as well have been the blue-green glass of the sea. Maybe it was.
But I don’t think birds sing in the ocean.
Read the next chapter.
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