Chapter I (part I)

Kalëni took a deep breath, letting the scent of the sea air flood her chest. The hull of the ship cut the waters along the coast of Geb, launching sporadic splashes to the deck. The sails, blown by a wind that had favored them for most of the journey, offered an appealing shadow as the sun began to descend toward the horizon line in the sky. It was the first time her father had agreed to take her on such a long voyage across the Obari Ocean. She was anxious to land, to discover a new nation, a new culture and new people.

With a stronger gust of wind, a black lock broke loose from the small but multiple hairclips that held her long hair in place and flitted in rebellion to the front of her face. She smiled and pulled it with her hand behind her pointed ear, as she contemplated the vast green fields in the distance. It was hard to believe that anyone who was farming those fields was not even really alive. She propped both elbows on the rail, not letting go of her hair, as she thought to herself. How terrible would it be to live in a society dominated by undead? To cohabit openly with ghosts, vampires, mummies, ghouls, among others, on a daily basis?

She shivered and reached for the pendant around her neck – the symbol of her goddess, Sarenrae. Above all, she had to be tolerant with the people of Geb, just as she tolerated what was wrong in her own nation.

Behind her, the clash of wood made her smile fade. She glanced over her shoulder, watching two girls fight with each other with smiles of defiance on their lips and quarterstaffs wielded. Skins darker than hers and short black hair streaked with red, Jalien and Iraen were like drops of water, two agile twins, fed by a living fire that was unable to keep them still. Both had been created to be masters of two arts: dance and combat. And, like her, they were not completely human.

Jalien jumped to the side, avoiding a strike to her uncovered ribs. They wore only a pair of pants whose legs ended in balloons, and a piece of cloth that covered their small chest. Iraen made a gesture with her hand, her smile growing and the strands of her hair brightening.

“Hey! No fire, girls!”

Suddenly they both stood and looked in the young woman's direction, near the rail.

"We were just training, Ni," Iraen protested, straightening and leaning her staff on her bare shoulder. “We have to be prepared for the demonstration, we don’t want to give a bad impression.

Kalëni sighed, certain that it would do no good to rebuke them. Although the master who had taught them to fight had attempted to discipline them with the strength of the whip since they were small, it had never produced exactly the desired effects. The willpower of the twins was superior to that of the whip.

"But we don’t want the ship to burn and sink, do we?" she asked, turning to them and crossing her arms.

"Oh, you look like a grumpy old woman," Jalien noted, jumping up to Kalëni and giving her a kiss on one cheek. "And has someone told you those clothes are a bit transparent? No wonder the sailors are looking... and Iraen too, that's why that attack failed”.

Kalëni laughed, shaking her head. In fact, the white cloth of her tunic was thin and light enough to fight the heat of the sun, but beneath it she was as dressed as the other two girls.

Iraen approached her sister and, with a swift movement, struck her with the quarterstaff on the head.

“Ouch!” protested Jalien.

"Oh, now who was looking at our Lady Kalëni?" her sister joked.

Kalëni raised both hands in a gesture that urged them to settle down. They had been the other reason for her to have insisted on going on the trip. She wanted to accompany them to their destination, she wanted them to know that, for her, they were more than mere merchandise to be exchanged between two slaver nations.

"According to the captain, we arrive at the capital of Geb at sundown," she noted, linking hands with each of them. "You're both great warriors, you don’t have to spend these last hours training. Rest. The night may be tiring, especially for you.”

The twins looked at each other, then looked at Kalëni half a foot below them.

"Do not worry about us. We'll be fine," Jalien noted, her expression more serious but reassuring. "As long as Iraen and I are together, we will be able to withstand any problem. And we're glad you came with us. We owe you more than you can imagine. Us and your father’s other slaves. One day we might be able to repay part of that debt.”

Kalëni's lips parted to answer, but she ended up pressing them hard and lowered her face without looking at them. Tears stung her eyes. There was no debt to her. She simply did what she could to appease the injustice that washed away the lives of those who did not have how to be "someone," of those who had bad luck in the crib in which they were born. And yet, it was so little...

"I’m sorry," she whispered between her teeth. “Sorry.”

“Hm?! What’s that, Ni? Look at us!” Iraen took a hand to Kalëni’s face, lifting it up. Although the twins were only sixteen years old, their hands were rough, callused by the intense years of training. “No tears. You did everything you could and we know you will continue to do so. I'm just sorry that you can no longer wrap us in your arms and sing to us until we fall asleep. But, well, I suppose we're already somewhat heavy...”

Kalëni laughed, and sniffed at the same time, looking at her. Whoever heard her speak would think that the half-elf was much older than the twins. In fact the difference between them was only six years.

"Your heads still fit in my lap," she said, wiping a tear that had dared to slip away.

"Oh, so in the next few days we might still have a chance. And then we gabble near the sailors, "Jalien mused. “Perfect plan.”

The young half-elf laughed more, unable to remain indifferent to the twin’s good mood. She was going to miss them a lot, but most of all, she wanted the person they were going to be sold to to give them the value they deserved. That was her greatest fear in the whole adventure.

“Lady Kalëni!”

The trio moved their eyes to the servant who was crossing the deck in their direction. He was a skinny teenager, with a complexion that contrasted sharply with any of them. He seemed to be in a hurry, as if his subject matter was of the utmost importance. Kalëni pulled herself together, taking a deep breath and blinking her eyes so that the sensation of tears would disappear. In the next instant the boy stood before them, casting an intimidated glance at Jalien and Iraen, who were not only a hand-span taller, who were not only a hand taller, but had their bodies marked with firm muscles. He coughed, not only to clear his voice but to hide his embarrassment.

"Pyerg," the young woman replied, almost in acknowledgement.

"Your father requests you to go at once to his cabin," he said in a quick roll.

The young half-elf gave a small nod of thanks and left the twins, followed by the silent young man.