Daughter of the East Wind
by Linda Jordan
Copyright by Linda Jordan
Published by Metamorphosis Press
Photo license by Dreamstine
Cover photo by 3quarks
Smashwords Edition 2011
Daughter of the East Wind
The Daughter of the East Wind stood on the cliff top overlooking the Summer Sea. She watched people far out in their fishing boats dragging nets through the deep, green water. Closer to shore, divers leapt from their boats into the shallows. She imagined they sought octopus or perhaps precious pearls.
High upon the cliff, Asha felt truly alone for the first time in her life and she loved it. Mother would, of course, be searching for her. To lock her up again. How could a Wind Goddess not understand her daughter needing freedom? She was seventeen, an age at which most girls her age were married or at least being courted. And Asha had seen nothing of the world.
She felt the huge shadow above before she saw it. Asha flattened herself to the ground, next to a large boulder. The massive roc flew over, not seeing her.
Did it belong to her mother? She knew most of East Wind’s creatures, but not all. The rocs resembled giant eagles, their largest feathers more than three times her height. They had always seemed independent of her mother. Their large rookery overlooked the Summer Sea. Even though they were invisible to humans, the rocs protected those fragile creatures. It was probably good humans couldn’t see them. The massive birds picked up elephants and dropped them on rocks below, thus providing dinner for themselves and their young. The humans would have been terrified.
When the roc had passed, Asha moved into a grove of sweet bark trees, inhaling their cinnamon scent. She continued to watch the divers, wondering what their lives were like.
She felt curious about the entire world. She’d only read about it in books and had never gotten a chance to experience it. Mother feared that Asha’s father would find and abduct his daughter. But since Asha had never even seen him, she thought he probably didn’t even care or maybe he didn’t even know of her existence. That was more likely, given her mother’s paranoia.
Asha wasn’t sure who her father was, although she’d heard rumors he was a water spirit, a tengu or birdman, or the North Wind. She didn’t think any of those likely. He was probably a local villager. And she’d never find out, because her mother would never tell her.
“I just want you all to myself. To keep you safe,” East Wind replied whenever Asha asked who her father was.
“Safe from what?” Asha always asked.
Her mother never answered that. She simply hugged her and kissed her forehead.
Asha had planned this escape for over a year. Although she’d started trying to run away when she was only six. Her early attempts were all failures, but she learned something from each venture out into the world. And they whetted her appetite for more.
This attempt was exquisitely planned. She loved her mother and regretted leaving. Still, she needed to know the truth about the world. About people. About love.
She adjusted her pack and moved down the cliff trail to the town. A medium sized village, all the trades were represented. Cinnamon and vanilla went across the Summer Sea, along with cotton, beautiful rubies, sapphires and emeralds.
Asha walked through the town to the docks. Her peasant’s clothing didn’t stand out. But her accent would, so she determined to speak as little as possible. She looked at the various boats. Finally she chose one to approach. Its sails were large enough to take the ship across the sea, but it also had a galley for rowers. Her mother would most likely cause a few problems.
She found the captain and paid for a berth on the ship. They would leave on the evening tide, so Asha went into her tiny, tiny cabin and waited. She knew it was important to stay hidden; the East Wind would have discovered her absence by now and begun searching.
After three days at sea, she finally felt safe coming out onto deck. But only at night. Asha wore her light jacket with the hood up, even though she felt too warm. The slight breeze blew gently, cooling the sweat on her face. The air came from the West, still she worried it might carry her scent to Mother; so she stood near the huge woven bags containing cinnamon bark comforted that their fragrance would overpower hers.
The sky glowed with stars, but no moon was visible. Three crew members sat at the bow laughing and telling jokes as the ship streamed forward, gently rocking.
Another man stood nearby, at the rail, looking out over the sea. He was younger than the rest, about her age.
Water spouted up in the air and he laughed. His laugh sounded like the stream near her mother’s house. He turned to her and pointed at the source of the plume, “Whales,” he said.
She moved to the rail and saw the dark shapes swimming alongside the ship. They splashed and rolled and wove around each other, never quite touching. She had only seen drawings of them, never realizing how large they were. Or how alive. She hadn’t met many wild creatures. She felt herself fill with the joy the whales exuded by simply being alive. Someday she would find such happiness, Asha promised herself.
“Where are you going?” asked the young man with black hair and flashing blue eyes.
“I don’t know yet,” she answered, carefully.
“A traveller?”
“Yes, I hope so. The world is so big, there’s so much to see.”
He nodded. “I have a restless spirit as well.”
They stood in silence for a while, then she felt a large presence above her. She looked up to see a huge roc, perched on the tallest mast.
She quickly moved next to the cabin, wedging herself between the bags of cinnamon.
The man stared at her. “You can see him?”
“The roc? How could I miss him?” Asha asked, then realized she’d just given herself away.
“I’ve never met anyone else who could see them,” he said.
“How is it you can see him?” she asked.
“I’ve always been able to. And you?”
“Me too,” she said.
He said, “They often follow the ship. They like to rest up there.”