The Dew of the Shore

Jacob didn’t know why he played. All he knew was that he did. What else would relieve his heart of this tension? This burden? It began just around the time when his father gave him the instrument. The unceasing toil of the melody and the legacy of the instrument both seemed to be his inheritance.

It’s the symbol of our kingdom, son, the symbol of our people. Our first king gave it to his son as a blessing. Now, I’m giving one to you.

He ran his hand along the smoothed wood until he reached the delicate reed. What does it mean?

Prosperity and life. This instrument will do nothing unless you play it, and music will do nothing unless it is heard. That’s why it represents life. Have it around you when you play. Your song will be for your people just as your kingship will be. Learn to play this instrument and it will teach you to rule.

So he learned to play.

In the beginning, he could do nothing more than send his fingers viciously over the various openings making wild movements of discord until his grandmother, being a practical woman, presented him with simple compositions of music and showed him how to bring forth their melodies. Some he would recognize. Some he did not, but he learned to play them, and it seemed she would not cease until he learned every song ever transcribed on paper. There was never a time when he hated the instrument so much.

However, now that he was familiar with the piece, he seemed to go back to that time when he first learned to play, only his motions weren’t as mindless as before. Instead, they seemed to be the very song of his restless heart, and the tune sang it all for him clearly as if looking through glass.

Regardless if Jacob had the spirit for it or not, his father always had him play what he learned for whatever company they had, since it was for them that he learned. Only when he was sick would his father relent and take up his own instrument and carry the burden he was entrusting to his son.

But who was he playing for now? He never knew upon this shore. He just knew that he played, and there she silently listened.

There it was, the heart of his kingdom, Castle Gambia, ruling over the port that ruled the world. Little trade happened without passing between those docks, and for this reason Gambia was the greatest kingdom in the world drinking deeply of the ocean’s prosperity.

Bertrand, it is good to see you, but why has my father asked to see me?

A Kalamian officer was captured in Turlough.

The name rung like minor chord. Being locked in the embrace of the maternal arm of the ocean and the paternal arm of the Geant Mountains, Kalamia and Gambia were two kingdoms, two brothers, unable to escape their ancient rivalry. There was Gambia, un-conquerable with its vast lands and crushing calvary while Kalamia was indestructible with its unyielding refusal to die in its place of isolation along the mountains.

How did he make it so far through Gambia? Why isn’t Lord Ronan dealing with this? It’s his authority.

The Kalamian was Gero Hearth.

All other questions Jacob had were answered with that name. It resounded like a haunting death call leaving him with only one concern: the safety of his people. Gambia would stand, but what would be the price?

Is Kalamia preparing for an attack?

We know nothing. He has refused to speak to anyone other than the king, and your father wanted you with him when he did.

Jacob breathed in the dew of the shore one final time before leaving with his uncle. She watched them go. There was her champion, her instrument, her love, and it was time for his journey to begin.