GODS AT THE CENTRE ( EDITING)

CHAPTER V, VAXES: THE GENERAL AT SEA

The Unknown Sea
Somewhere, miles off the Western Coast of the Isilian peninsular.

Vaxes sighed as she watched the sun descend in the western skies. The red light of dusk was fading across the sky. The sun seemed to dip into the sea, sinking in all its splendor.

The sun has returned to its abode at the edge of the sea.

Soon night would fall.

The whole world was just sky and sea now. A fading crimson above and blackening waters below.

Far west there was nothing more to be seen but sea and sun.

I wonder what it would be like, to follow the sunset. Sailing into the unknown, beyond all knowledge and duty. I wonder if the legends are true? Is the edge of the earth further west, where the sun meets the sea at the sea god Virani's cave? I should like to see it. She sighed wistfully.

She should have known better, such idle dreams weren't for her.

No! Vantu Vaxes daughter of Vaka the lightning wasn't born for daydreams and adventures, that was for aimless fools. People of no duty. Not for her.

There would be no sailing to the ends of the earth for me.

Sighing, she watched as her fleet of long galleys surged forward all around her, riding the calm sea like a docile horse.

The wind bore them eastwards. Their bronze rams dipping and rising with the waves.

All were warships. Equipped with powerful rams, oil and catapults, with a fighting force aboard each vessel. An armada. Her army.

She walked down the gunwale, all the way to the prow, ignoring salutes from her crew, she leaned against the bull shaped figure, gazing east, where her true interest lay.

She glanced at her brawny arms, down to her callused hands. They had no soft courtesan touch to them, not even the very least of feminine tenderness to them.

They were tough from years of training, years of fighting and struggles.

Years of becoming me.

If the waters below were clear enough, she might see her reflection. She knew what she would see: jet black hair cut low in the style of men, a copper colored face, slanted eyes. A wide forehead, flat nose with flaying nostrils, thin lips, flappy ears. Dark eyes, that might be called pretty as the rest of her couldn't.

She knew what she looked like, what she was.

Uncalled her father's voice filled her head.

"When your mother was pregnant, we hoped for twins. A boy who would be strong and brave as his father, a girl gentle and with a sweet voice as her mother. The gods must have not understood me. They took your mother away and gave me both... in one! Look at you, you're more man than maid! The gods played this joke on me and I'm a lucky father!"

Her father did... love her, perhaps he did in his own hurtful, ruff way.

Vaka the lightning he was called. One of Thigia's. greatest warriors. He was gruff, brusque and painfully blunt.

"You're too ugly to be wedded. But the gods gave you to me. I must make do with you. You have got strength like a boy. Go get a wooden sword, if you can't be a proper maid, at least I can make a warrior out of you. You wouldn't be pretty, but maybe I can make you sword pretty."

And so he trained her. Her first bruises and scars were gifts of his love to her.

"Get off the ground, girl! Don't stay there crying. The outside world wouldn't love you! They will mock you and make you loath the day you were born. Hone your sword, girl not your tears. They wouldn't love you but at least they will fear you. I will make you a beauty with the sword at least."