Dance of a Burning Sea (The Mousai) by E.J. Mellow

Author:E.J. Mellow [Mellow, E.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Montlake
Published: 2021-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The sun was greedy in the Valley of Giants, gluttonous to cover everything, and Niya was hard pressed to find an unoccupied bit of shade on deck. Hugging close to a stack of crates along the port side, she shielded her eyes from the bright day as she studied the land that rose up around her. They sailed through a canyon, its sides painted in slashes of crimson, the sun’s relentless heat blistering the towering sandstone rocks, which were what she had learned had earned this place the name of Valley of Giants: the rising rock monoliths.

It had taken another two days to reach the wide river they now floated down from the Obasi Sea, the water here a muddy green compared to the pure azure-blue sky. And though the air was dry, it smelled sweet, as if the sediment held fragrance. The ship’s sails were down, for no wind was needed to guide them forward. Somehow the current flowed quickly inland, as if this place knew the destination all visitors sought.

Saffi leaned against the crates beside Niya, cleaning her nails with a splinter of wood, while Therza and Bree rested in the last slice of shadow by their feet.

The crew was tired, but of course they were. They’d just sailed through a storm, only to face the Mocking Mist. Everyone was in need of a drink.

“Captain’s making an announcement.” Saffi nudged Niya.

Alōs strode to the center of the quarterdeck as they gathered around. Kintra took up her usual spot on his right.

Despite the rising heat, the pirate captain remained in all black. His stance was relaxed but commanding as he waited for his crew to assemble on the deck below. Niya was so used to seeing him at night that she had forgotten how the sun complemented the hue of his brown skin and softened the severity of his features. The breeze filtered through his ebony hair as his sharp gaze took them each in.

“My brothers and sisters,” Alōs began, his deep voice echoing through the canyon. “I first want to commend you on your brave work entering the west lands. Not many have survived to see this part of the world, but I did not doubt our success. You may be scoundrels and thieves, but you are the most gifted scoundrels and thieves.”

A few hoots came from the group. Niya crossed her arms over her chest, amused at how easily charmed this lot could be by their captain.

“We will soon be met with the people of the valley, and I must remind you that this is not a pillaging mission. We come here for rest, to repair what’s been broken in the storm, and to restock items in trade for some of our bounty. We cannot make war here, or enemies. This river”—he gestured to the water around them—“is our only way out.”

Murmurs filled the air.

“What?” Niya leaned over to ask Saffi.

“Death trap,” the master gunner muttered, pointing to the canyon’s edge on either side. Niya could just make out piles of boulders clustered together along the top.

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