Moroda (World of Linaria) Page 12

  ‘What about your parents?’

  ‘Never had them,’ Amarah snapped. She began wading through the river, back to the bank, where Moroda stood.

  ‘Everything I have is off my own back. Everything I’ve learned is from my own lessons. I don’t have time to babysit entitled, lazy shits who can’t take care of themselves,’ she said, pulling herself out of the river, water dripping all over the grass.

  Moroda saw her legs were bare, scars criss-crossing her shins, and she felt the heat of rage in her belly as Amarah insulted her yet again. ‘I’m not lazy!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’m not! And I’m not sorry I was born into a family that had more than yours! That wasn’t my fault! I didn’t choose it! No more than you chose yours! You don’t have to be so rude all the time or act like I’m ungrateful!’ Moroda said, her voice shaking with emotion.

  Amarah cackled again, ‘Alright, calm down Goldstone. I’m glad this is a wake-up call for you.’

  ‘Losing my father was a wake-up call!’ She felt the heat in her belly rise up to the back of her eyes, but she didn’t want tears to spill, not in front of Amarah. ‘Everything I’ve ever known has gone! It’s just Eryn left, just Eryn and those three florins. Now there’s an army being built! My city has burned down! Dragons are attacking people! I’m trying to adapt to this new life and I’m trying to take care of myself! You don’t need to make all that even harder!’

  Amarah said nothing, and Moroda was stunned by her own outburst, but her words continued, fuelled by emotion. ‘What if you lost Khanna? What if you lost the ability to fly a ship? What if you lost everything you had and were put in a world where everything and everyone was against you all the time? I’m sorry I don’t know how to deal with that as well as you want me to!’

  Moroda could no longer keep her emotion back, and tears flowed down her cheeks. ‘Keep my florins, then, if you think I don’t deserve them! I’ll find a way to make it work. I’ll look after Eryn, too. We’re friends just as much as sisters. I’ll make sure we learn all the same lessons as you and know what to do.’

  Amarah remained quiet as Moroda tried to steady her breathing. She felt vulnerable all of a sudden, when she realised the only thing she could hear was the rushing waters of the river in front of her.

  ‘Alright. Glad to see you do actually have a bit of fight in you, girl,’ the pirate finally spoke. ‘I was waiting to see what you were made of. Keep thinking like that and you just might get through life without your family’s money to look after you.’

  Moroda angrily wiped away the tears from her face, grateful Amarah had spared her another insult. She didn’t know how she felt about her. On the one hand, she admired her confidence and ability to fly an airship with such skill, but on the other, she detested how little she cared for anyone, or the feelings of anyone, around her.

  ‘Looks like Palom has caught enough to keep us fed till next summer. Get back on board. We’ll dry it all out and be leaving shortly,’ Amarah said, having seen the Ittallan’s generous catch.

  Moroda remained stood where she was as Amarah picked up her boots and walked off, taking the time to sort her thoughts and ensure she did not cry again. Her lip trembled as she tried to steady her breathing. She had been so determined to do the right thing, to make sure everything would be fine, to stop the bad things happening, and yet all her attempts seemed futile. Was the decision to speak out publically against the King’s visitor the start of it all? If she hadn’t done that, she’d never have been arrested and met Amarah. Never have left Niversai. Never be on her way to Berel.

  Perhaps she should have burned that night instead. Perhaps Linaria would have been better off without a silly girl with no idea about the real world and how it worked.

  She took a deep breath, fighting back more tears. If she wasn’t doing the right thing, then at least she was doing something. She would be swept along with the events of this bizarre group of travellers, just like the river’s current. She wouldn’t worry about what happened, she would just make sure Eryn got through it with her, and then got home. Somehow. Moroda had never before needed to question anything she had done, her life before had seemed relatively set. Working hard hadn’t ever factored into it, and here she was, willing to do so, but it was being thrown in her face.

  What else could she do but put on a brave front and continue? She felt incredibly small, and incredibly lost, and she didn’t have the first idea how to fix that. She had to focus on what she knew—she had the love and support of Eryn, and it was as good a starting point as any. Yes, she would lean on Eryn as Eryn would lean on her, until they knew what was happening. Until then, she had to be open and willing to learn, now more than ever.

  Feeling no better than before her argument with Amarah, but with some sort of plan in mind, Moroda finally headed back to the airship and climbed on board, as ready as she could be for the next leg of their journey.

  Chapter Twelve

  The short breaks Amarah permitted were few and far between, but Moroda enjoyed them when they happened. The captain could quite happily stay on her ship for days at a time, but Moroda loved the feeling of earth under her feet, particularly because it didn’t shake quite as much as Khanna did. She had expected Amarah to tell them more of her home country as their journey continued, but the pirate had surprisingly little to say of Berel, of which none was positive.

  Moroda knew hardly anything of the Samolen home country, Ranski, to the south of Corhaven. She knew of the great university, and knew the Samolen practiced magic there. She knew it was a good deal warmer than Niversai, and thanks to Amarah’s comments, she had learned it was in fact mostly desert. Other than that, she was an open book, and felt butterflies in her belly at the thought of finally seeing such an esteemed city.

  It seemed so bizarre after all these years she was finally going to Berel, to see it with her own eyes, and on a pirate’s ship, no less! Her companions were a far cry from the sort of company she usually kept, and though the group was made up of people with vastly different personalities, they held a mutual tolerance—after all, their goals were the same. All but Sapora and Amarah, who outwardly showcased their distaste for one another. Moroda couldn’t stand the tension their outbursts created; it would linger on

  board for hours, and made her uncomfortable.

  She thought of Kohl and Anahrik, who could fly off if they chose and keep away from the spats, and wished she could do the same. Yet in the same breath, she looked to Palom and his calm voice of reason, and Morgen, who had a knack for defusing tension, and realised she could learn a lot from both of them, too.

  Moroda listened to their arguments, trying to work out why they disagreed so much. Sapora seemed to loathe Amarah’s vocation, and Amarah seemed simply to loathe Sapora’s existence.

  The arguing between Amarah and Sapora intensified as they left Corhaven and entered Ranski. Crossing the border into the neighbouring country was far less exciting than she had imagined.

  Amarah was following the course of the river south, and she pointed out several tall flags which signified the land had changed from Corhaven to Ranski. There were no Imperial soldiers, no walls, not even a hut by the side of the road to check travellers passing through. Moroda’s heart sank—perhaps she was getting too worked up over the Arillians in Niversai. The whole of Linaria seemed oblivious to their movements.

  The heat increased several hours after the border crossing, and Moroda assumed this had been the reason for Amarah and Sapora’s increased arguing and digs at one another. Amarah had warned them Ranski was a desert, but Moroda hadn’t quite been prepared for the sudden intensity of heat. The thick travelling cloaks she had bought in Berel did not help with the heat, but protected her skin from burning under the harsh sun. Amarah had not been lucky with the sun; after only a few hours, her arms were red and her bare

  shoulders sported blisters.

  Kohl’s wide-brimmed hat came into use when he was on deck, and when he flew, he kept below the s
hip to remain in Khanna’s shadow. Palom, already deeply tanned from years of work outdoors, did not mind the heat as much as the others, much the same as Morgen, but Sapora disliked it most of all. Moroda found him terrifying at the best of times, but a Varkain with a temper was definitely one to avoid, and she and Eryn made a point of keeping to the opposite side of the ship as he.

  Corhaven, to her, was beautiful—full of hills and forests, fields and flowers, all swathed in rich green grass. Ranski had plains, yes, but of brown, brittle grass which soon gave way to a barren, sandy landscape. The wind strengthened, too, and on the vast, flat plains, it picked up loose dust, pushing it into huge clouds which bombarded the airship every time it flew too low or too quickly.

  The further they travelled, the more intense the dust storms became, and the harder it was for Amarah to avoid them. The ship’s sails bore the brunt of the dust storms, and Moroda worried they would rip off completely off if their journey lasted much longer.

  As the view turned from green to brown, much of Moroda’s initial wonder left her. The sky and land merged into one, shapeless colour, the hours seemed to drag on, and she felt herself wondering once more whether she had in fact made the right choice by leaving Niversai.

  ‘Kohl, what is that?’ Amarah called out sharply. Moroda stood up, cloak covering her shoulders, and walked to the edge of the ship. Wiping away the sweat on her forehead, she squinted in the sunlight, looking for the Arillian.

  Against the bland skyline, she could not easily spot their scouts, but Kohl came back into view at Amarah’s call—by far the most obedient aboard Khanna, and the only one to listen to Amarah’s every instruction. He held his hat low as he reached the ship, keeping it safely on his head against the rush of cool wind that accompanied his landing. ‘Phoenixes, Amarah. A pair of them half a league ahead,’ he said, looking off the edge of the ship toward a faint orange glow in the sky.

  ‘Phoenixes?’ Moroda echoed, struggling to see the scaled birds.

  Amarah altered their course slightly. ‘Great warning, Kohl. There’ll be dragons about then.’

  ‘None for a few days’ travel, Amarah. Your ship will be safe. Phoenixes are everywhere in Ranski, I understand. They don’t all follow dragons here.’

  ‘Phoenixes won’t hurt you anyway.’ Morgen added. ‘Ranski is the safest place in all Linaria. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I’m not worried!’ Amarah replied. ‘But Khanna isn’t fireproof, whether phoenixes intend to harm me or not!’

  Eryn hugged Moroda’s arm; she was exhausted from the heat and their rations were swiftly dwindling. Talk of more fire and danger put her on edge, and Moroda could sense her sister’s anxiety.

  ‘Lucky for us the ship has a good pilot,’ Morgen said, flattering Amarah to lessen the tension on deck. Amarah snorted in response, but Moroda could see a small grin playing on the captain’s lips.

  Moroda watched the open part of the deck, where Palom and Sapora stood opposite one another. Amarah could often be appeased by a calm word or a hint of flattery, but Sapora was more unpredictable, and Palom seemed to have taken it upon himself to keep a close eye on the Varkain. Their dislike for one another seemed to run deeper than Amarah’s, and Moroda was perfectly happy for them to stay on the other side of the ship for as long as they wished.

  ‘The Ittallan and Varkain are more closely linked than they’d like to admit.’ Morgen had explained when they watched Palom stalk away from Sapora. ‘Kind of like disowning a parent or sibling, you know? You’re trying to strike off on your own, but you keep being reminded that you’re related.’

  It was close to evening on the sixth day of their journey when Amarah announced Berel was in her sights. On form, Anahrik raced ahead to see for himself, though Kohl chose to remain on deck with the others. Moroda, Eryn, and Morgen looked over the edge of the ship to see the city sprawling beneath them.

  ‘We’re coming up on the old town now,’ Amarah said, as she slowed the ship’s approach. ‘The university’s down here, on the lake.’

  Moroda’s eyes widened. The lake was enormous, sprawling in all directions for several leagues, an oasis in the dry landscape.

  Torches shimmered across the waters’ surface, and the current was visible even in the low light. Great stone pillars arose in a circle from the centre of the water, with a high plinth atop them. It gave off a strong force, not unlike wind, preventing Khanna from flying too near. ‘Samolen magic,’ Amarah muttered, turning to avoid the pillars and take a slightly more roundabout route into the city.

  Beside the pillars was the island of the old town. It was connected to the land by a thin bridge, but bright lights lit it beautifully. Moroda leaned over the side, trying to get a better look, before being jolted back as Khanna turned under her.

  ‘Docks are in the new town,’ she explained, bypassing the old town and its University, and approaching land once they flew over the expanse of water. The new town was larger and more advanced than the old, and much more built up. It did not take long before Moroda could make out individual streets and buildings as the ship slowly descended. Their timing could not have been better—Amarah’s port sails had suffered terribly in the dust storms, and one was ripped almost in two; she thought it a wonder the ship could still fly at all, but she supposed Amarah was used to the odds being against her.

  ‘Looks like the docks are pretty empty. See, no-one visits this bastard desert,’ Amarah said, steering towards a large overhang jutting out from a hillside. The fabric canopy overhanging the dock entrance was thick and red, richly embroidered with jewels, which shone more brightly the darker it became. Using their light as a guide, Amarah carefully steered Khanna into the hangar, and docked her near the entrance.

  Now darkness had descended fully, the day’s heat vanished, replaced by a welcome chill. Killing her engines, Amarah breathed a sigh of relief. ‘We’re here, finally.’ She yawned, stretching her arms above her and cracking her joints. ‘Dragons above, I ache.’

  Eryn rubbed her eyes as she made her way across the deck to her sister, ‘Me as well. I’ll be so glad to be off this ship. I think I’ve decided I don’t like flying on airships quite so small and cramped.’

  ‘Or with a touchy Varkain aboard,’ Moroda whispered back, once she had checked the offending person wasn’t within earshot.

  ‘Whose ship is this?’ a male voice called up to the passengers.

  ‘Captain Amarah—this is Khanna, a racing ship that had a tangle with a dragon outside Niversai,’ Amarah called back, clambering down the steps on the side of her ship. ‘I would have thought you’d recognise this old girl, Topeko.’ She winked at the approaching Samolen as she stepped onto the stone floor and brushed herself down.

  ‘Amarah? I can’t believe it!’ the man replied. He wore ornately jewelled red robes matching the canopy above the entrance to the hangar. His bright eyes sparkled green against his dark skin, and the three thumbnail-sized jewels embedded under his eyes shone vividly in the darkness.

  He embraced the dirty, burnt sky pirate and wrapped his arms completely around her, spreading warmth into the cool air all around. ‘It has been far too long, I feared you would never see me again! We heard of the dragon attacking Niversai; it is a wonder your ship survived its flame.’

  He released Amarah and took a step back to greet the others who were disembarking. ‘These are your…friends? You always had quite eclectic tastes, didn’t you? Not only do you have those from Corhaven, but Ittallan, an Arillian, and a Varkain, too? Who would have thought one small airship would bring peoples from all of Linaria together!’ Topeko exclaimed, the purple jewels under his eyes bursting with light and colour as he became happier and more animated.

  The sounds of drums beating and flutes playing from somewhere beyond the hangar enticed the party forward, along with the warmth emanating from the Samolen. ‘Goodness me! A prince of the Varkain, no less! My word, Amarah, whatever have you been doing these past few years?’

  Sapora froze mid-step, glaring at th
e Samolen and refuting the warmth he gave off.

  ‘Prince?’ Amarah echoed, caught completely off guard as she stared at Sapora.

  ‘Sapora’s a prince?’ Moroda gasped, one hand raised to cover her mouth. She couldn’t believe the Samolen’s words, and thought back to all the times she had been less than courteous to Sapora, or when Amarah had outright insulted him. She had no idea they had royalty on board, and all she had wished for the entire journey was he would leave them in peace. Moroda had been so wrapped up in Amarah calling her Goldstone every chance she had, she didn’t think anyone else would be as…important. She felt awful at the realisation.

  ‘You did not know?’ Topeko asked, raising a hand to his heart as he realised his mistake. ‘My prince, I apologise if I affronted you,’ he bowed, a little of the sparkle from his jewels disappearing.

  The Varkain blinked slowly and turned away, poorly concealing his annoyance. ‘I’m sure someone would have figured it out soon enough,’ he muttered. ‘I am too tired to be angered now. Shall we rest?’ Sapora suggested.

  ‘Of course, of course,’ Topeko straightened up and turning back to Amarah. ‘I’ll have your Khanna repaired in no time. I presume that’s why you came to me and not another city? Shall we return to my quarters for the evening? Of course, your friends are guests just as much as you. They are more than welcome to stay with me during their time in Berel.’

  ‘Thank you very much, sir,’ Moroda said, stepping forward and returning his bow. ‘Are you one of the scholars here?’

  ‘Indeed, I am a teacher,’ he replied, pointing to the right jewel under his eye. ‘Purple is the colour of the teacher. There are many colours to mark the speciality of the Samolen,’ he explained. ‘Come, come, there is plenty of time to learn. You must be thirsty, and hungry, too? I will have something prepared to mark the end of your journey,’ he said, and once again became animated, his jewels dazzling as they pulsed with ever brighter light. ‘Please, come, it is not far.’ He beckoned, turning around in a flourish of red and purple as he led Amarah and the others through the hangar and into the new town of Berel.