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My people are the Marshlanders. We hold a territory in the marshes of the mountains and raise some of the best warriors of any time period. Daunting. Elite. Fearless, some say. Like the legendary soldiers of that land called Sparta before us, we are trained from the time we are young and made warriors as teenagers or young adults. We are only one territory in the bigger scheme of things. There are three other territories that have always existed alongside us with a history of equally elite warriors, our ageless comrades and rivals all the same.
In the four territories, our ancestors have always lived off the land, and most of the bigger, wealthier kingdoms want nothing to do with us, except to take our land; so our ancestors took the liberty to sign a contract with a well-respected ancient king, stating that if we charter our children to his army he will protect us from larger kingdoms. Now, every spring, when we initiate our new warriors, the king comes to take his pick at the King's Court Ceremony and takes them to the academy in Oceanside City to complete their training.
I will never be chosen for this fate. My fate is different. I will be Queen of my people when my mother decides it is time.
Our territory is ruled by a prince, Prince Alto. He is the illegitimate son of King Rushing. My mother is next in the chain of hierarchy after him. This is the same for all of the king's territories. His illegitimate sons rule the territories, and then he also appoints lords to interact with the commonpeople. The king gives the lords and their families a luxurious life. Not to say that our commonpeople are impoverished; they live simple and fullfilled lives off the land. Their only fear is that their son or daughter may be chosen to join the king's army.
My marshland kingdom has many villages. It is a matriarchal society. The women do not raise the children, but the men do. I lived with my father until I turned seventeen, then I came to live with my mother and grandmother to continue my training as her successor. My mother took the throne not even a decade ago, and I still have a long way before I am ready.
"Jenna, wake up," my cousin, Kimberly, shakes me.
"What is it? I am already up, Kimber."
"There is something wrong with the water."
"What do you mean?" I inquire sleepily.
"Come see."
I pull on my red jacket and red rubber boots over pajamas and tug my brown hair into a bun.
"Come on, Jenna," she urges.
My mother lives in a homey cottage. She is a simple woman always busy with her duties. She made a place for me in her extra room when I came to live with her a year ago. She does not know much about raising a child, let alone a teenaged daughter, but slowly over the last year, my room has become a very comfortable place for me.
My mother's logotto dog lays by the door on the burgandy woven rug in the living room. She lifts her curly head in greeting.
"Good morning, River," I reply. She turns her head to the side. The fact that she is sitting in front of the door confirms that my mother is gone on errands this morning, perhaps a border patrol.
"Come on, Avi," I call to my crow.
We use birds to communicate, mainly ravens and crows. They are our hunting partners and our lifelong companions. Navigator (Avi for short) has been with me for four years now.
When we get outside, Kimberly searches out her rook, Sundance. Sundance hops back and forth on a branch. Kimberly rode here on her white mare, so I leave her to get my bay draft pony mare, Ripple. Together, we ride through our village through the wetlands to a neighboring village about a mile away. We have several water sources, but we most enjoy Storm Brooke because it is the temporary home of migrating fish coming from the Thunder River this time of year. When we get to the rushing river, I find that the water is indeed foamy and white, like smoke is materialized beneath the rapids.
"What do you think it is?"
Before I can reply, someone answers for me, "Do not drink it."
A young man approaches on a brown mare. He is broad chested with caramel brown skin and thick dark brown curls forming a frizzy mess all over his head, tinted a somewhat sandy brown by the sun as he rides beneath minute breaks in the canopy. His face, despite its soft features, is serious. Urgent.
"Do not drink it," he warns again.
"And who are you?" I inquire.
"Vegas, from the Distance Colonies. I am a friend of Prince Alto's brothers, Prince Cole of the Wolflands and Prince Orson of the Fairylands. They have asked me to sample the water. The king is trying out new technology, and it has leaked into the water sources. Starting with the Distance Colonies. The king is doing his best to help us there. I am sure he will help your people as well, once he is made aware. Have you talked to your brother...Wren?"
"Not recently."
"Well, his village was the first to be affected, being closest to the Distance Colonies. It started at the Thunder River."
"Is he okay?"
"You might want to come with me and see for yourself."
Another figure rides toward us on a grey draft pony. My mother. My grandmother accompanies her, riding an old yellow draft horse mare almost as old as she. My grandmother does not ride often, even though both she and the mare are still limber despite their old age. However, in this moment, they both look utterly exhausted.
"Mother, what is going on?"
"Come with us, Jenna. There is much to discuss."
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