Tipping the Scale

Chapter 17: The Eater's Spawn (Part 1)

Philosophers of old have long speculated the existence of continents beyond Asmeon. They believed that a southern landmass was necessary to balance the immense Frosted Lands of the North and maintain the world's equilibrium. As this theory gained popularity, it heralded the great Age of Discovery, during which hundreds of explorers ventured into every unknown corner of the continent. It was at this time that many countries first established contact and that rudimentary charts evolved into the detailed maps we know today.

Yet, no grand land was ever found.

Except for the North, explorers encountered fast-flowing currents and relentless storms in every direction. The type of waters which even the sturdiest of vessels and finest sails could not withstand.

The boundary was colloquially called the Barrier of Storms, within which one segment earned itself a name of its own. The part which flows near the coasts of Sihaya and Vazul'kar, referred to as the Drake Current. Not only is it dominated by ferocious storms, but also by a great number of Sea Drakes. The most massive and territorially aggressive of all dragonkin.

Due to these formidable challenges, attempts at crossing the barrier have ceased in the last century. With the notable exception of the nautical forces of Nausica, where the highest distinction for a captain can only be earned after sailing the Barrier of Storms for no less than three days. Having done so, they will achieve the rare and highly esteemed ranking of the sixth star.

~ The History and People of Magic by Sir Rainaldus Gale

Although the sun had set hours ago, Lidea could still feel her skin glowing and she didn't doubt that her complexion was looking quite berry-like. Looking over at her companions, only Cedric seemed to be suffering the same fate. His darker skin showed the faintest hint of red as he was once more sleeping on the healer's shoulder. At least both Crystal and Warchief had been spared.

From Crystal, it was to be expected. Of the four of them, she had easily the darkest complexion. In contrast, Warchief surprised her. His tawny skin was lighter than Cedric's, especially after the amount of time they had spent underground. But, she was almost able to observe him growing darker by the hour. His skin soaked up as much of the sun as possible.

The ease by which he tanned, was the only giveaway for his southern ethnicity. His other features simply too ambiguous to be pointed down to one culture or another.

As he sat there, pouring over the map with his compass still in hand, she wondered if he had never questioned his heritage. He seemed to be at peace with not knowing, but perhaps he had been forced to accept that he never would. Depending on the amount of generations his family had been enslaved, a lot of information had probably been lost.

An existence like his was almost unimaginable to Lidea, who had grown up with the stories of her progenitors. She had been tutored through texts written by them while sitting in a room where their portraits proudly lined the wall. To her, knowing her family history was as natural as breathing air.

"When we arrive, remind me to make you something for your skin."

Her thoughts were interrupted by Crystal's words of concern. When she met the healer's eyes, she realized that Crystal had moved to ride between her and Warchief, making her aware that she had been staring at him for an uncomfortable long time.

Flustered, she glanced at Warchief once more, but he didn't seem to have noticed. Still too engrossed in the map he was holding.

"That would be great. But you should rest first. I won't die from a little bit of sunburn."

The healer pouted but didn't protest. Her easy defeat was a clear indication of her exhaustion.

"I don't get it. Did Firon make a mistake? We were supposed to be there already."