Kingdom of the Elves
Chapter 6 — Matilda
Swift Sister lived up to her name, swift as the fabled tales described. She glided with ease across the open Golden Sea, and Matilda felt as if she were flying on the back of a mighty beast, standing at the head of the bow. The sea around Swift Sister sparkled under the golden sun, enhancing the thrill of their journey. The winds blew seawater in her face, a sensation that reminded her of running about in the rain as a kid. The recollection made her blush, and she wondered how many of the men manning the oars behind her had seen her prance about in her first nameday attire. She concluded that they likely did not think much of it, as they all played the same way in their childhood.
Times had changed so swiftly. While kids her age continued to run about, she was confronted with the weighty responsibilities of being the heir of Halvoy. Everything shifted. Suddenly, she found herself thrust into adulthood when she had barely begun to run. She sat with the adults, absorbing the history and beliefs of her people. Matilda learned that the Northmen were direct descendants of the gods, and she, a daughter of the royal bloodline, had the purest divine blood flowing through her.
The belief that she was a divine being made her carry herself with an air of importance. Suddenly, she saw her friends as mere children, and whenever they came to her to join in their play, she would dismiss them without a second thought. The blood of the storms doesn’t frolic about with infants, she thought, recollecting the words she had said to them over and over again until they stopped coming to her. Matilda, after a while, realized that she often looked forward to the invitations. So, when she stopped receiving them, she recognized the loneliness that had settled into her life. She would cry herself to sleep, in silence, so no one mocked a weeping deity.
Outside, she would walk with her chest puffed out, smiling confidently to convey a false account of her situation. Deep inside, she yearned to rip off the dress and run with the kids like an actual child.
She paid meticulous attention to everything they taught her. The language of the Northmen and its runic form of writing became her first practical lesson. Once she perfected it, she delved into learning how to speak the common tongue, including Elbenian, Haquese, Gemmian, and Kralsic. Her education even extended to reading Elvish runes. When she asked why learning a language that was out of use was required, her teacher smiled, revealing his beet-colored teeth.
“The elves can never not be around,” He replied. “They are out there somewhere, waiting for the cycle to repeat itself.”
“What cycle?” she asked, her curiosity reflecting the innocence of prepubescence.
“They are, and so men are,” he replied before cackling like a madman. “And when they are no more, men will be not.”
He refused to say any more. Sometimes, she thought the gleam in his eyes emanated from the unusual knowledge he possessed rather than madness. He seemed to know everything. He taught her singing, for which she lacked the voice, dancing, which her feet refused to master, and poetry, a form she found bothersome because why use poems to communicate instead of clear, concise language? He also gave her lessons in politics and religion. She learned of the devout madmen in Gemma who believed in a single divine deity, seven-in-one. ‘How can one person be seven?’ she always asked. Thankfully, he did not force her to memorize the seven aspects or the big book the worshippers of that god read during gatherings and celebrations.
Her teacher, whose name nobody knew, also taught her how to fight. He delivered lengthy lectures whenever it was time to learn military tactics and battle plans. He spoke to her about the Science of War, a body of work developed in the lower river valleys of Krung.
“Have you ever been to Krung?” she asked one evening as they sat to play a card game. He loved games too — cards, board games, running, and horse-riding were his favorites.
“Yes, and no,” he responded. His dark green eyes shone, and she couldn’t help but wonder about the secrets they had witnessed. It was just like him to provide cryptic answers like a mad genius.
“Why yes?” she asked. She had quickly learned that to get him to reveal more, she needed to inquire about the minor details and then piece together his entire response.
“Ah!” He smiled. “The child grows,” He remarked. She blushed at his admittance. “The lady knows how to get her teacher to speak. His work is almost done.”
She supposed he was attempting to avoid answering her question, but to her surprise, he continued.
“Yes, these eyes have seen beyond the deserts and the mountains.” She waited for him to say more. When the silence got uncomfortable, she asked another question.
“And why no?” She demanded to know.
“This body has never crossed the deserts or the mountains,” He replied.
Matilda furrowed her brows in deep thought. “How can you see something when you’re not where it is?”
He smiled again. “The eyes and the mind are required to see, not the body.”
Matilda inhaled sharply, the smell of the fish being roasted nearby wafted through the air into her nostrils. “The body needs to move to where you hope to see!” She pointed out. It was obvious to anyone.
“The body is merely a vessel,” He replied before rising to his feet. Her eyes followed him. “And a vessel can always be replaced.”
She lowered her gaze to the cards on the table before her and pondered deeply on his words. She felt they made sense, but she couldn’t fathom their true meaning. When she looked back up to ask him another question, he was gone. It was the last time her teacher was seen. When she asked the leder who the man who taught her was, he said he was not aware she was learning from anyone, that the serving maidens were supposed to have taught her. To her disbelief, no one remembered the man who had taught her daily for five years, until a few days before her tenth nameday.
“No one but me remembers,” she thought out loud as the shores of Skitt came into view. She would often think of him and how remarkably knowledgeable he was. She wondered how he managed to hoodwink everyone into forgetting him. Her father brought him to her, and the maids fed him daily. How then could they not remember? She had stopped asking about him when everyone started to say she was suffering from eating too many capsponges.
“I don’t like capsponges!” She would yell.
And they would respond with, “No, but the fishes do. And you eat a lot of those.” Their response made her furious, and even the memory of it caused her to tighten her fists in annoyance.
She stopped eating fish for nearly a year, and regardless, she remembered her teacher… dearly. She missed him. He was very kind to her, and he did not treat her like a pest like some of the men did. He never leered or stared at her in the wrong way. She realized she knew when men looked at her with dirty thoughts running through their heads. No one taught her that, but she knew. Her teacher was her shield during those years. He protected her from the men and their sleazy hands, from the women and their quick tongues, and from the children and their silly questions.
When she could not stop thinking about him, she concluded they would always meet again, and that he likely watched over her since he could see without having to be present. Sometimes, she would cast glances at shadows, suspecting that he was about and letting her know of his company. She played board games against herself, making the moves he usually would against her for him. At twelve, she no longer had time to sit idly and simply reminisce. That was when her father started entrusting her with the affairs of the Northmen. Six years later, she was aboard her very own ship, Swift Sister, and she was leading ninety-eight other ships into the waters of Skitt.
She could see the Skittish were already waiting by the sea, eager for the food and fur she brought with her. They would occupy sixty of her ships and go west, to discover and conquer. As they neared the shores, the rowing men eased their efforts, and her ship slowed. Backbiter caught up on the port, while Kraken’s Fist flanked from the starboard. After Backbiter, she recognized the white seagull on the blue sail of Damsel, the yellow sun announcing the arrival of Summerville, and the curled lightning serpent of Nithog’s Mouth. Glancing to the other side, she saw the green star of Westbound — the newest ship in her fleet, the falcon of Daydreamer, and the black hammer of Father’s Might. Together, with the first three, all nine ships carried booty the Skittish wouldn’t be able to refuse.
