The Wings of Ashtaroth

Chapter 5: Mazna: Section I: Vivaen

The queen nattered on for a good while, making no attempt to engage Vivaen in genuine conversation. As they rounded the first of the two small islands that sheltered Qemassen from the Helit's waves, Eaflied was still scattering her words to the wind. The queen pointed at the sheer cliffs of the larger of the two islands. "They call this one Tarefsa Tithmeseti. The smaller island behind is Tarefsa Qusirai." The words sounded practiced coming from Eaflied's mouth.

Vivaen smirked to herself, amused Eaflied would think to educate her. "The Serpent's Tooth and the Serpent's Scale," she translated.

Eaflied stared distantly at the rock face, as though Vivaen's words reached her only as whispers to a dreamer's ear. Perhaps she was thinking on her real daughter, on what delight might have swept the fourteen-year-old up in its currents.

Vivaen hung her neck back as they sailed alongside the towering island that jutted, a nearly perfect cylinder, from the blue waves. Her man Ash had woven stories of Qemassen's shores, of its colourful buildings, its palaces and statues, and paved streets. His tales hadn't prepared her.

Tarefsa Tithmeseti towered at least three hundred feet high. A forest of cedars covered the island's high cliffs, circling a tiered yellow watchtower. Every level of the tower was lined with gold statues that glinted blindingly where the light hit them, and water cascaded down its walls in elegant, controlled streams. Most wonderful of all was the huge, winged woman carved out of the cliff-face itself, as though she were leaping from the stone to dive into the sea. She was taller than the walls of Atlin's hill fort, her wings stretching half as wide. In one taloned hand she gripped a circular object and in the other a peculiar looped cross with a wide, triangular base. Her eyes were strange, round, black things, painted to stare out at the sea in warning or in welcome.

Vivaen hesitated. Her man had told her a few tales of his people's gods, but she couldn't place this one. Her curiosity overcame her pride and eventually she spoke. "Who is she?"

Eaflied sighed. "A woman dressed up like a phoenix. The bird is the city's symbol. She holds a pomegranate in one hand, and a symbol of their gods in the other."

Vivaen thought she remembered about the phoenix. "But who's the woman supposed to be?"

"How should I know? One of their goddesses, I expect, or a queen. Maybe she's both. They worship their kings as gods, once they're dead." Eaflied smiled, clearly imagining herself as a trumped up Massenqa goddess.

Vivaen laughed at the idea of King Ossa's haggard face immortalized in stone, greeting newcomers to Atlin. She'd used to think her city one of the greatest in the world, as big and busy as any other. But the closer they came to her future home, the larger she realized Qemassen's network of buildings really was, and the grander its palaces. The hot, sticky air above the houses in the distance seethed with oil, undulating like the waves of the ocean below.

A shadow passed overhead—a moment of brief relief. When she craned her neck back to look, it turned out to be a bridge, linking the two islands. Tarefsa Qusirai was only half the height of its sister, but cedars covered this one as well. A strip of sandy beach curved along its southern face, with ships of all kinds docked along the shore. Men called to each other as they laboured over the boats. There were even some young men receiving what looked like swimming instruction.

The activity nearby was in direct contrast to the approaching vista of Qemassen, which appeared not to have much of a harbour at all. Impressive though they were, few ships lined the city's lengthy pier, which ran parallel to the coastline. The entirety of the shore was protected by a defensive brick wall, which Vivaen had been told enclosed the whole settlement, with the exception of the farms and small villages that had grown up outside.