Solo The Rulers of Zeltiva

[Aylaru Loru'iel]

11 Fall, 513 AV
The Cerulean Pier


Aylaru's meditative trance was brutally interrupted by his collision with something rather solid. Slowly, like a child woken up after a dream, he came back to his senses, drinking in the initial impressions of his surroundings. Clearly, he was no longer in the middle of the ocean. His hands groped about for a moment, searching for the surface he had crashed into while swimming underwater during his half-aware state of meditation. When his fingers felt the smooth rocks his head had collided with, the realization of his location hit him harder than any stone wall could ever have: Zeltiva. He had finally reached his destination.

Despite the rest he had found in meditation during his long voyage, his body was weary from the amount of time he had spent swimming all the way from Charbosi on the other side of Mizahar. How long it had been he could not determine, though for sure he was at least a year younger when he had departed from his home. The thought of now being on the far side of the world sent an unpleasant chill down his cartilaginous spine. But, although he was on the verge of exhaustion, the newly-found energy from the excitement at the thought of prospected adventures, promised wisdom and future friendships kept him going. He had dreamed so long of the capital of knowledge; now it was within his reach.

He swam upwards along the rock wall of Zeltiva's docks until he reached the surface, then grabbed a protruding stone and hoisted himself out of the water. Not a moment later did he find himself crashing back into Mathews Bay, too dizzy to keep his balance above the surface. He concentrated hard and tried again, this time gripping the stone more firmly; and again he failed. Frustrated, he swam along the edge of the wall, looking for a more suitable place from which to climb up, splashing his way all along the port. He ended up taking the slanted way up the pier jutting out of Zeltiva. When finally he was out of the water and standing on both feet, he found himself nose to nose with a man in full armor.

"State your business."

"Why, hello, dear sir," Aylaru started. "I am Aylaru Loru'iel of ancient Charbosi, and I come to the prosperous city of Zeltiva seeking knowledge and --"

"Cut the crap," the man butted in, clearly annoyed. "You're with the Waveguard, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, I don't --"

"I know all about your kind, you filthy blue-skinned dolphin. Another one of yours came in no earlier than last week, I bet she's your sister. Didn't mind letting her in."

"Mind your tongue, sir, I --"

"You mind yours, fish-man, or I'll cut it out for you," the man flared threateningly. "I don't know what it is these days with visitors coming into our city and thinking they're gonna be treated like they aren't the poor trash they really are, but I'm not taking it from no fish-man. I want you on your knees and officially declare your intentions."

"My intentions are --"

"On your knees, I said!" he thundered.

Aylaru sensed the danger in his voice and decided it might be wiser to submit. Words of allegiance are like stagnant water, he thought; when new winds blow, new currents wash it anew. He bent the knee and started: "I, Aylaru Loru'iel of Charbosi --"

"Fish-man," the guard interrupted, and slapped Aylaru across the face.

Aylaru pressed a hand against his bruised cheek. His dignity would also have to stand by the tides of time, it seemed. "I, Aylaru, fish-man --" he swallowed -- "intend no harm to the rulers of Zeltiva." He looked down at his feet and only now realized he was naked.

"Sentinel!" the armed man roared.

"What?" Aylaru said, confused.

The guard slapped him on the other cheek, harder this time. "Sentinel rules Zeltiva! Profess your submission!"

Aylaru groped around his mind to find the right words. He was about to drop from the exhaustion. "I, Aylaru... fish-man... submit to the rulers of Zeltiva... Sentinel."

The man laughed crudely and declared: "Enough of this. You may enter the city."

Aylaru blinked twice and fainted on the spot.

[Aylaru Loru'iel]

"The tides will turn, as they always do," said an elderly voice in the language of Aylaru's people.

"When the tide is low, the drowned bodies of the unwise litter the coast of Laviku's will," said another, the rhythm of Char pulsing in Aylaru's mind.

"Keep to the sea when the tide is low; once the water has washed the coast away will you return, the light in the darkness," whispered a last.

Aylaru Loru'iel woke, his mind still fuzzy from his dream. He had dreamed of the voices of the wise Charodae composing the Circle of Elders, whom he had looked up to all his life. He had dreamed that they passed their wisdom down to him, all the way from the underwater city of Charbosi to the other side of Mizahar. The currents carry the words of the ocean's dwellers, Aylaru thought.

Indeed, he had somehow fallen back into Mathews bay.

He made his way onto the Cerulean Pier once again. Memory of what had happened prior to his immersion into the world of unconsciousness flooded back to his mind once he was above the surface. The guard who had tormented him must have kicked him over the edge. Why had he been so hateful?

An apparent motive lied in the fact that Aylaru's backpack was no longer strapped to his back, and nowhere to be found. He covered his face with his webbed palm and sighed, then dove into the water to search the sea floor for his lost belongings, but to no avail. The waves return the shells to the beaches, he thought with hopeful resignation, and proceeded back onto the pier jutting out of the city of Zeltiva, naked as a fish out of water.