Jehu
12th of Summer, 519 AV
The first load landed with a soft thud in the sand, a simple burlap bag filled with a few articles of clothing and a pair of leather boots. Standing barefoot on the edge of the beach, his bronzed torso was bared in the heat, a pair of pants fit snug around his wait but loose about his legs for comfort. His lungs expanded, drawing in a long draft of air. It was the same fresh sea air that he had breathed on the sea voyage, but instead of the smells of the ship and its confined passengers, the breeze was laden with the aroma of tropical flora. His toes spread, the thin webbing stretching between them, splaying over the heated beach sand. It felt welcoming beneath his leathery soles, less solid than the wooden deck of the Veronica, but beneath was the solid foundation of land.
The load in Jehu's other arm was dropped. The tools, bundled together with leather straps, clattered as they hit the sand. Eyes the color of glistening pitch caressed the settlement before him. Without pupil, iris or whites, the direction of the Chaktawe's glance was difficult to discern. The village structures, primitive perhaps to some visitors, appealed to the desert nomad who was raised in tents, much like the one he would be erecting as his temporary home. The simple buildings of Syka were far more inviting than the stone walls and paved streets of Ahnatep or Riverfall.
The sound of the crew unloading cargo tugged Jehu from his revelry, and he returned to retrieve the remainder of his gear, setting it with his other belongings. Then he lent a hand carrying goods from the long boats bringing stores from the ship in the bay. Captain Chaliva was busy, certainly, with the business of their arrival. but Jehu knew he would have to report his presence to someone. Grasping his trio of spears, one by one, he drove the butts of each into the sand by his baggage, the shafts standing upright, the steel heads gleaming in the summer sun. Jehu made his way towards the cluster of structures before him.
END
Words: 362