Back home, the Karjul Straits separated Canjir from Vaetreas. The stories he’d heard as a child said that, once, Canjir had been part of the main continent, connected to the southern shore of Vaetreas. Then one day, many hundreds of years ago, the sky went dark and the world shook. The darkness lasted for weeks, creating chaos. When the sun returned, the land was gone, and Canjir was cut off from the rest of the country. The waters of the Adelaar Ocean to the west and the Barenden Sea to the east swept in, crashing into the emptiness and creating the treacherous Karjul Straits.
Now historians knew a volcano, the predecessor of Anatau, had erupted, collapsing in on itself from the force of the eruption and creating a massive caldera that left Canjir stranded in the ocean. They’d learned the hard way that there was truth in those old legends, after Anatau erupted again and turned Canjir from a lush paradise to a barren desert.
Through the ages, his people had mastered the secrets of the Straits, learning to navigate the shallow waters and treacherous tides. Cut off from the rest of the world, their magic changed as well, growing into something new and different, a secret kept by every Canjiri mage, rare as they were. Together, those two secrets had kept his people alive and independent despite repeated attempts to annex their homeland.
The waters of Lodie weren’t the warm, swirling currents of the Straits he’d grown up with. Here, the Barenden Sea washed up on the rough sands, still clinging to the last remnants of winter’s chill. An oncoming storm cast the depths in deep, endless shades of gray, the weak light of the sun reflecting the white-topped waves as they clashed and surged in the wind.
Salty spray cut straight through the thin fabric of his shirt, lingering like ice on his chilled skin, but he wouldn’t admit he was cold. Syrus had dressed for this weather, in long sleeves and thick boots. Eiri had chosen his outfit out of sheer defiance, knowing it would make him stand out even more from the straight-laced Vaetreans. While the loose pants and embroidered shirt sent the message that he was proud to be Canjiri, it did nothing to protect him from the elements.
“Are you hungry?” Syrus asked. They’d lapsed into silence after Syrus’ pronouncement, for which Eiri was grateful. This peace between them was too new, too fragile. One wrong word could destroy it, and he had a long history of choosing the wrong words.
“That depends. Are we returning to the palace and eating supper in the great hall?”
“I was thinking we could go into town and find something to eat there, unless you prefer to go back?”
Eiri shot him a rueful smile. “No one is going to sell food to me in town.”
“They will if I’m with you. Not to mention, it will givepeople a chance to see us together. The more people that know you’re welcome here, the faster word will spread, and the quicker attitudes will change.”
That seemed wildly optimistic, but Eiri chose not to fight it. “Alright, then. Let’s head to town and see what we can find.”
He lingered a moment longer, letting the ebb and flow of the waves soothe a bit of the ache in his soul, then followed Syrus back up to the main road. There were no commercial buildings here, not like at the main docks. This part of the beach seemed to be strictly recreational, and he imagined it would be quite busy once the full heat of summer arrived.
For now, though, most of the food vendor stalls were closed, waiting for nicer weather. They’d have to venture deeper into the city, something that seemed less and less appealing with every step they took, or take their luck with the few vendors who’d opened in this weather.
“Shouldn’t you have bodyguards if you’re out like this?” he asked as they crossed the road together. The buildings closest to them were smaller, one-story shops likely meant to draw in tourists and beach-goers. Further in the distance, closer to the main square, he could spot a few two-story buildings poking up above the rest.
“It’s never been a concern,” Syrus said, shrugging. “I’ve never felt unsafe around my people, and even if I did, I can take care of myself.”
“Even without weapons?” It was a concession they’d both made. Eiri had only agreed because he had his magic if things went poorly.
“We’ve faced each other without weapons before. What would you say?”
It took Eiri a moment to remember that fight. It’d been almost ten years ago, not long after he’d become a raider. He’d been serving under Woren then, before he’d proven himselfworthy of commanding his own crew. They’d hit a small port town, not one of the major trade posts. According to the usual shipping routes, the town should have been almost completely unguarded, with most of the soldiers accompanying goods down the trade roads to the surrounding towns further inland.
Somehow, the Vaetreans anticipated their raid, and the garrison was filled to the brim with soldiers, all under the command of Prince Syrus Vardor. Eiri, still new to actual combat, was ordered to help get supplies to the boats while the fighters kept the soldiers occupied. He’d done just that until his last trip ended with him face to face with the garrison commander. Syrus had disarmed him easily that day, and only Eiri’s speed and a dose of blind luck had allowed him to do the same to Syrus, leaving them to use their fists. Eiri’d felt those bruises for over a week after they’d escaped.
“That was ages ago. Your skills may have gotten rusty since then.”
“I assure you I haven’t gotten rusty. Maybe someday we can spar together and I can show you,” Syrus teased, and for the first time, there was no sharp edge to the smile he gave Eiri. This was simple and pure, and Eiri’s stomach twisted in response. He quickly smothered his strange reaction. More likely than not, he was just hungry. He hadn’t eaten much this morning, after all.
“It would certainly be a change to fight you without actually wanting to hurt each other.” He still wasn’t convinced this truce wasn’t just another ploy to gain his trust and wear down his resolve, but he could admit to himself that, at least at the moment, he didn’t actively want to hurt Syrus.
“Maybe we could even learn a few things from each other. Your people have a unique fighting style.”
“If I taught our secrets to the commander of enemy forces, I’d never be allowed to set foot in Canjir again,” Eiri said, and itwasn’t until Syrus’ smile faltered and disappeared that he realized what he’d said.
“Vaetreas and Canjir are still enemies in your head, then?” he asked, the hesitant humor of before vanishing. As usual, Eiri had found exactly the wrong words.
“Can you truly blame me? Our people have been fighting each other longer than we’ve been alive.”
The silence nearly deafened him as he waited, wondering if he’d already managed to set them back to where they’d started. Syrus didn’t look at him as they walked, his dark eyes taking in their surroundings. Despite what he’d said earlier, he was still keeping watch, like his long years as a soldier made it impossible to relax even in his own capital. The streets were bustling, despite the promise of rain, and Eiri received more than a few startled glances. He even saw a mother cross the street with her child to get away from him. It no longer bothered him, not much anyway, but he noticed that Syrus’ gaze lingered on those people for a few extra seconds.
They’d nearly reached the center of town before he finally broke the silence. “I honestly wish Icouldhold it against you. It’s difficult for me to imagine us as allies,” Syrus admitted, though he sounded reluctant to do so.
“It’ll take time for everyone to adjust and realize that it’s going to last.” Eiri had his doubts, of course, but now was not the time or place to bring them up.
“I suppose we have our work cut out for us to convince people that this is real.”
