Authors: J. D. Vaughn
Copyright © 2015 by J. D. Vaughn
Cover illustration © 2015 by Kelley McMorris
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ISBN 978-1-4231-9037-0
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Contents
FOR FIRST-BORN KYLE DURANGO
AND SECOND-BORN ABBIE ZIMMER,
WITH LOVE AND GRATITUDE
O
ne by one, all the tribes surrounding Tequende fell to war, diseased by the twin plagues of greed and power. People who had once lived in peace
now enslaved one another’s children, ravaged sacred sites, and murdered the arts and learning that had flourished for millennia. Queen Four of Tequende prayed and fasted to Mother
Machué, offered gifts of crop and beast to Intiq, danced in vigil under Elia’s sacred light…all in hope of saving her realm from the same fate. Finally, the Diosa, the great
spiritual leader of the realm, offered this counsel to the queen:
Let the beloved firstborn children remain at home to learn their family trade, tend to aging parents, and inherit the land and property of their birthright. This will show our warring
neighbors that you are not so desperate to steal the first fruit of a family, and it will prove to our people that you honor their traditions and their legacy. But peace demands a high price from
her followers. You must require each family of the realm to surrender a second-born child upon reaching the age of reason and skill: fifteen harvests. Train them to be the mightiest soldiers in all
the lands, and your borders shall stand, your people remain free. In one hundred years’ time, the renown alone of these second-born guardians shall act as a great wall to the suffering
outside of it. Do this, and Tequende will not fall.
I
n the Realm of Tequende, on the full moon of the new year, all second children of the land having reached the age of fifteen must report for
service to the Crown; and thereafter solemnly swear to uphold the Oath of Guilds to serve and protect their Queen, at all costs, above all else. After a year of military training, the finest
among them join the ranks of the Second Guard, the mighty army of Tequende, until the age of nineteen. Those not chosen, however, must become indentured servants of the realm until the age of
twenty-one. This great sacrifice made by each family is seen as an honor, not an obligation, and is borne by all in equal measure: a truly noble gift I’ve witnessed nowhere else in the wide
world, save this remote highland realm.
—M.
DE
S
AAVEDRA
,
The Rise of Tequende: A History
T
ali stared at the full moon through the open porthole, listening to the gentle slap of waves against the boat’s hull. The milky white light
of the Goddess Elia shone across the worn planks of the small cabin. For years Tali had been waiting for this moon, waiting for her chance to serve the Queen, as her mother had before her. She
ought to have been exhausted by the day’s preparations and the evening’s farewell party, but sleep would not find her.
“You win, Goddess,” Tali whispered out the porthole, then rose from her narrow bed. She paused over the still figure of her sister in the bed opposite hers, wrapped in the warm
blanket of sleep. Mouser, the six-toed cat, lay nuzzled beside her, nesting in the spoon of her body. For a brief moment, Tali’s heart tightened inside her chest. Nel was a vision of peace.
Leaving her behind the next morning would cut worse than the Blade of Tequende.
Tali took a deep breath and turned away. She quickly pulled on her father’s old pants and tunic, wrapping the leather belt around her waist twice so that it would buckle. During the day
she dressed the part required of a merchant’s daughter: bold colors to attract the trade they so relied upon. But she felt more comfortable, more like herself, in her father’s worn
castoffs. She braided her hair into a thick rope, then slid on soft leather boots that made no sound as she climbed the wooden ladder up to the main deck. How empty and stark it seemed, with only
the river’s sloshing waves to break the silence.
Normally crates, baskets, and barrels covered the deck, but earlier in the day all had been cleared to make way for the party…and a grand party it had been. Hired musicians had played one
merry song after another for raucous, appreciative guests. Cups of mountain ale had been raised high and often, toasting Tali’s name and the numerous titles now bestowed upon it: Talimendra
Sanchez Kalloryn of the Magda River Traders, Second-Born of the Sun Guild, Sworn Servant and Protector of the Realm of Tequende. Tali couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement every time
those words rang out. The first full moon of the new year had finally come. Tomorrow Tali would leave the only life she had ever known to seek honor for her family, just as her second-born mother had done twenty
years before.
Tali stepped over bits of litter, remnants of the festive streamers, flower garlands, and paper lanterns that Nel had labored over for days. The best sister in the realm, she thought, pulling up
a plank near the prow and withdrawing a well-worn sword. Agile as a trade cat, she leapt onto the railing of the boat, only a handspread in width, and circled her way around the deck, practicing
thrusts and parries under the moon’s watchful eye.
The wind picked up, making the boat’s movements more erratic, but Tali’s sense of balance, honed from years of practice and a life on the river, took over. Her arms shot out as the
boat keeled. Knees bending slightly, Tali forced herself to circle the boat faster, then once backward. Her breathing came quickly now, matching her small, sure steps. She cartwheeled off the
railing on the last turn, imagining an opponent trying to disarm her.
With the help of an empty ale barrel, she hopped to the cabin roof to practice the movements she’d been taught by the combat maestros in Porto Sol. Whenever her father had been able to
afford a lesson and an extra day at dock, Tali had learned what she could about swordsmanship and archery, eager to memorize every move from the maestros so she could later practice them on the
boat. The sword sliced down, left then right, then diagonally across her body.
Tali gave one last lunge with the wooden sword, then sat to catch her breath. The Magda River looked luminous, reflecting Elia’s light like a shimmery veil across the water. Theirs was the
sole tradeboat docked in the small port town of Girado; the party guests had all taken advantage of the night winds to sail into Porto Sol, where the morning market would be brisk. Her father would
lose a good day’s trade, but Tali’s new horse was stabled in town, and she would have need of it in a few short hours.
She
had to
get some sleep.
As she stood and stretched her aching arms, a flash of light from upriver made her turn. She peered through the darkness to make out the vessel: by the size of it a tradeboat, but the lights
were strange. In addition to the usual prow lantern, a more intense light blazed from the stern. Tali sprang from her perch and ran to the railing.