22ish

The winds blew softly over the massive archipelago as evening approached. The Astaldak lands were a group of small islands spreading over a fifth of the southern hemisphere of Ersada. The climate was warm, and many flowers and fruits grew on these islands. When the evening winds came, they carried the scent of each island to all the others, mingling in a perfumed atmosphere like no other on the face of the planet.

Leti was a small town by most measurements, but it was one of the larger cities of the Astaldak. Set on the beach of the island Mei, it shone red in the setting sun, and the waves lapped the sand quietly. A small child knelt in the spray, clutching handfuls of sand, laughing as the waves eroded the small piles of sand that she built. Her purple eyes shone brightly in the evening light, and her white-gold hair, soaked with seawater, was plastered back against her skull.

“Tsuda!” A voice floated out over the sand and mixed with the crashing of the waves. “Tsuda, wait for me, don’t get lost.” A young woman walked swiftly through the sand and crouched down by the waterside. “Building sand domes again?” She smiled, dark eyes dancing. “Well, there will be more time for that tomorrow. It’s getting late and it’s time to go home.”

The girl nodded, and took her mother’s hand. As they walked away from the beach, she looked over her shoulder; the waves came in and washed over the insubstantial structure until it was little more than a slight swell on the shore.

Tsuda sat idly, looking out over the gardens. They were large and well-kept; plants flourished on Mei, and it took a great deal of effort to keep them trimmed back. She loved the bright boldly colored flowers that hung from most of the trees. There were the great purple nelias that were broad and cup-shaped—Tsuda had often used them as hats as a child—and the sweeping vines of tiny orange bisi that hung like beaded curtains over the walls. But of all the brightly colored flowers, her favorites were the small white flowers; they were plain and unassuming by day, but flushed red under the light of the moon. Mooncups, she thought, were the most beautiful of all, even though they often got ignored for the brighter colors.
“Tsuda!” The girl jerked to attention, and looked up at her teacher.
“I am sorry, Me Lida, I was day-dreaming.” She took up the green kele fronds and began weaving them together.
“Tsuda, you must pay attention.” The older woman leaned down, and took the weave from her hands. “You see, you relaxed your hands there when you were idling, and now the fronds will not pull taut. Here, undo it up to this point, and try again. And please, keep your mind on your work!”
The other girls laughed quietly, eyes intent on their own work. They shared Tsuda’s dark brown complection, but had the dark honey-colored hair more typical of the Astaldak peoples; her mane of white-gold hair stood out in a crowd, though it was by no means unique. A few bloodlines on the islands tended to produce such traits. When she’d asked her father about it,l he told her that it had been so for as long as anyone could remember; in fact, it had even given rise to an old folk tale about spirits from the waters coming out of the sea to live among the Astaldak.

Tsuda sighed, and blew a few strands of pale hair out of her face. Her fingers gently unlaced the weave then began again, carefully pulling each frond taut, and adding new strands when needed. The hammock was slowly taking shape, but it would be a long time before it was finished.

After another hour, Lida examined the work, and pronounced it satisfactory, though not exceptional. Wooden clamps were affixed to ensure that the pattern would not unravel, and the weaving was rolled up and stored away until the next day.
Class was dismissed, and the small garden was filled with the rustle of the brilliantly-colored robes of the girls. Each girl’s torso was wrapped in a band of cloth—yellow and blue being favorite color—that was tightly fastened under the arms and extended down to the upper thighs. Each also wore a skirt of gauzy fabric, wrapped tightly around the waist many times, and tied off at the side. These were stained with plant dyes, and had wild abstract patterns covering them.
Tsuda was dressed in a deep salmon pink, and her ytellow skirt was dotted with a smattering of white rings, created by tying the fabric tightly while dyeing it. She ran her hands over the skirt—it had been one of her first efforts and she was pleased with it.
Most of the other girls had already run ahead, eager to be free of the class, but a few lingered; some chatted for a few moments with Me Lida; Resha and Hei stood admiring each others’ new clothes. Tsuda glanced at them, then walked out of the gardens, and turned onto the trail that led to the beach.
She could hear the waves before she could see them, and the ever-present scent of the water tingled against her nostrils, and her heart skipped a beat. She entered the maze-like paths that lead from the cliffs down to the beach; the ancient sandstone was twisted and carved by the waves; some of the passages were very narrow, but those were the ones she liked best, and she slipped into one of them. Her hands trailed across the rough surface of the stone, and she reveled in the mild abrasion. The rock was still cool down here, where the sun rarely shone, and she felt the chill against her belly as she squeezed through a particularly tight spot. One last brush of the stone against her bare shoulder, and she stepped out into the late afternoon light.
She could smell the sea, and just across the way, the island of Selni, redolent with fruits and spices.
“Is that you, Tsuda?” A voice came from above, and she looked up into the pale face of Mede.
“Mede!” Tsuda called up, “What are you doing up there? Come down and let’s go into the water!”
“Hold on a moment, I am coming!” Her face disappeared, and Tsuda back away from the edge of the small cliff. A moment later, a flash of indigo flew off the cliff, and landed amidst an explosion of sand at Tsuda’s side. “Why must you always jump, Mede? You’re going to snap an ankle one of these days, and then who will swim with me?”
Mede laughed loudly, the sound echoing slightly off the stone. “You would swim by yourself without any hesitation, as you know.” She began untying her skirt, and let it fall to the sand in a pile. “Sometimes I think you were born to swim.”
Tsuda heaped her skirt on top of Mede’s. “Oh really, and what were you born to do? Jump off of cliffs?”
The girls raced to the edge of the water and ran into the surf, shrieking at the sudden chill. The water soaked their thin shifts up to the shoulders. “Let’s swim off to Selni, shall we? I’ve always wanted to drink nekti there, and today is our chance!”
Mede opened her mouth to respond, but cried out instead. “I stepped on something, I think I cut my foot!” She winced, gritting her teeth. “It’s still in my foot, I can feel it. Here, help me get to the beach.” She flung her arm around her friend’s shoulders, and they paddled back ot the shore. Mede limped, trying not to set her foot down flat on any surface; they reached the dry sand and sat down. Tsuda looked at Mede foot, but could see little. “There’s too much blood,a nd it’s wall mixed with the water, I can’t see where it’s coming from. Let me try to find it.” She ran her fingers gently over the sole of Mede’s foot, until she discovered a large rip in the skin. “Yes, there’s something still in here, let me try to get it out.” Mede nodded wordlessly, her lips pale as she tried not to cry out again. Tsuda tugged gently at the shin sliver of metal, and after a moment, it slipped free. “Just a moment, Mede, I’m going to get something to bind your foot and stop the bleeding.” Tsuda ran towards the cliffs, and Mede settled back onto the sand, trying to relax. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm her spirit, as she had learned from her father. She entered the calm depths of her soul, and felt a chilly current of fear. She dove ddeeper, following the current; she could not stem the tide of fear if she did not know from whence it originated. Mede fell deeper inward…the fear was coming from outside…from another life perhaps…
“Here, I found some kele growing up at the top of the cliffs, and I think I can get this to stop bleeding long enough to get you back to Leti. We can take care of it better then.” Mede eyes flew open to see Tsuda running back across the beach; she tied the fronds tightly around the wound, and held them in place untilt he bleeding stopped. “There, that will do, I think. Here, you hang on to this so that the healer can see it. It may be important.” Tsuda thrust the bit of metal into Mede’s hand, and she once again felt the tingle of fear. She shooked her head slightly, and draped her arm around Tsuda’s shoulders, and together they made their way slowly into Leti.

The healer prodded the foot gently, cleaning away the remaining sand and kele fibers that had stuck to the wound. “I think this will not do any permanent harm. The metal missed the tendons, so it should heal quickly. But I think you should stay off your feet for at least a week, child,” he added, glancing up at Mede. She nodded, color beginning to return to her face.
“Is there anything I can do to help her get well, Me Kio?” Tsuda asked.
“Well, the best thing to do is to take some herkil leaves and boil them under the water turns green. Then, soak some cloth in the water, and apply them—hot, but not boiling—to the foot. This should reduce the risk of fever. Other than that, the only thing we can do is wait for the foot to heal.” Kio carefully dried the wound with a clean cloth, and straightened up. “Now, may I see that bit of metal again? I think I may know what it is.”
Mede held out the sliver of metal, and Kio examined it carefully. It was no longer than an inch, but wickedly barbed. “Yes, I thought perhaps so,” Kio muttered. “We see these every once in a while. I doubt that either of you know much about the war of the Astaldi?”
“Only a few stories,” Tsuda admitted.
“Well, then, let me give you a little background. You know, of course, of the warrior priests who live in the northern sea, on the other side of the world? Yes, of course you do; well, then you know that they take tribute from us every year, and we are merely a fiefdom of their lands. Fortunately for us, they do not care what we do as long as we provide tribute.” He sighed. “Or at least, that was the way of things, until about a hundred years ago. Men and women of many of our islands began to believe that the priests were wrong in their teachings about the soul. The Astaldi began to believe that the soul is transitory, that it disentigrates upon death and is reabsorbed into the universal soul. The body was what set humans apart, they believed, and we had more in common with the deshas than with the gods. They began to spread their ideas through the Astaldak lands, and the priests’ influence waned. So, they and their allies attacked the Astaldi, and wiped them from the face of Ersada. These lands were brought under stricter control and tribute demanded.” Kio held up the barbed splinter of metal. “I believe this is a broken arrowhead from the Temaltans’ weapons. They seem to be washed up by the sea occasionally.” He sighed. “The Astaldi never had a chance. Our life here is easy, and we are not a warlike people. The Temaltans train from their birth for war. There was no hope.”
He seemed almost in a trance as he spoke, and Tsuda looked at the healer with wide eyes. He shook his head slightly, and turned to her. “Please, do not tell anyone that I told you any of this. The Temaltans do not like it to be talked of, and you know the penalties for heresy.”
Mede nodded sleepily; the pain and exertion had tired her. Tsuda noticed, and rubbed her shoulder consolingly. “It’s time to get you home; do you think you can walk, or shall I find someone to carry you?”
“No, I can walk, but you’ll have to come with me. I don’t think I can get very far on my own.”