Shades of Dawn: A Whale’S Tear

By Evan Carter

Exiled from the throne of her nation on the day of her birth, Sera Narayan, raised as an ordinary child, discovers the truth of who she truly is on her Name Day, a celebration of adulthood.
Thrown into a world where she is hunted, this once-ordinary girl faces extraordinary challenges.
Set on a path not of her choosing, many obstacles await. Can Sera overcome her demons and rightfully reclaim her throne, in the process fulfilling her destiny and freeing her people?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503579804

Evan Carter

Evan Carter was born in Providence, Rhode Island, and grew up in the town of Cumberland. Growing up surrounded by forests and wildlife, he has always been inspired by all that was around him. Even now in college studying biology and human culture, he still retains that same sense of wonder and amazement. Evan has enjoyed mapmaking, creating fictional languages, and world building from a very young age, which aided in his first ever series, Shades of Dawn.

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Copyright © 2015 by Evan Carter.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 06/23/2015

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~CONTENTS~

A WHALE’S TEAR

Prologue. A Royal Birth

1. The Observer

2. Creation

3. Invasion

4. The Gift

5. Name Day

6. Traitor

7. A New Dawn

8. Averdiijn

9. Edwards

10. The Arts

11. Lies

12. Prisoner

13. Sera

14. Accord

15. The Chase

16. Choices

~BONUS MATERIAL~

~ Terminology ~

Character Notes

~ ~ ~

She is as beautiful as the dawn.

My dear, she will one day move mountains and carve out river valleys. I am sure of this.

~ ~ ~

To Grandma,

For always being there

and forever inspiring me.

In Loving Memory.

A WHALE’S TEAR

Image%201.jpg

PROLOGUE

A Royal Birth

Month of the Phoenix 1, 990

Screams echoed down a long, dim corridor lined with hundreds of portraits on one side and large windows on the other. Footsteps echoed on its cold slate floors as a solitary man ran, never stopping.

Only as the man, clothed in civilian garb, neared an ajar door did he stop, momentarily catching his breath. After only seconds, but what felt like an eternity, the man walked in soundlessly.

The screams, which were loud before, were now unbearable. Another man, wearing a royal blue tunic with silver outlining, stood stooped over a large bed with its purple silk covers thrown aside. As the civilian neared the bed, he looked away out of respect. The Queen, mostly naked, lay on the stripped bed, clutching her husband’s hand so tightly it turned his hand white.

The Queen, obviously in anguish, could do no more than scream and cry. Another woman, much older than the Queen, stood bent over the foot of the bed, speaking reassuring gestures toward the Queen.

You’re nearly there, My Highness. It will only be a few more moments.

The Queen responded with another scream of agony. After a few more seconds, the older woman exclaimed, I can see the crown of its head! Just hold on, the pain will be over soon.

Push! Push! the old woman cried, reaching forward.

Out of nowhere, another cry entered the room, this time, of a newborn baby. The tension in the room broke. The Queen, who had been in labor for nearly twelve hours, exhausted, fell back onto her pillows, which were now soaked with sweat.

The old woman had a large smile on her face. She bundled the small baby up in a small silver blanket. She walked to the mother and father, passing the child to the father, who now had both hands free.

The midwife spoke, exhausted herself, It’s a girl. She smiled and closed her eyes.

The new father looked down into his daughter’s emerald eyes. My dear, she’s so beautiful, the father whispered to his wife.

The first-time father gently knelt beside the bed and showed the bundle to his wife, who was all of a sudden extremely pale.

The husband cried out in abject horror, What’s wrong, my dear?

The old woman and the husband, who were leaning against the bed in exhaustion, all of a sudden noticed the sudden stickiness.

The husband, still holding the child, stood and looked down at the sticky sheets. Blood. The bed was soaked with blood.

The old woman reluctantly, but quickly, moved back toward the foot of the bed. She exclaimed painfully, She’s bleeding! The old woman quickly gathered up the sheets and tried to compress the source of the bleeding, to no avail.

The husband, knowing there was little time remaining, knelt back down. His wife’s eyes were, at this point, glazed over.

She spoke gently, "She is as beautiful as the dawn…"

Yes, dawn… That she is… The father, in tears, kissed his wife’s forehead.

She’s so small, the Queen spoke to no one in particular.

But my dear, she will one day move mountains and carve out river valleys. I am sure of this…

The Queen smiled one last time, weakly lifting her delicate hand, gently stroking the baby’s forehead. My dawn…

The Queen’s hand, now limp, dropped to the bed, which was now completely soaked with blood.

The husband moaned, kissing his wife’s forehead over and over again. Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me, my dear! he began to wail. After several minutes of silence, he gently closed her eyes and stood, defeated. I’m sorry…

The father turned to face the older woman. In the process, he saw the civilian who had rushed in but had retreated at the sight of the blood.

What news do you bring? the father asked dazedly.

The civilian stepped out of the shadows into the light of a small flickering fireplace. The man was crying as well. M-my Honor, the man collected himself, My Honor, the evacuation has been completed.

Good… the King responded. "And of them?" He spat the words.

"They have broken through, My Honor. They are currently bombing the city’s ports, as to prevent any further evacuations. Luckily, we had known they were coming. We had time to prepare."

Yes, this is true. The father stood still.

The old woman gently covered the Queen’s body with a clean silk sheet.

And of our ship?

It is waiting, the man dressed in civilian garb responded curtly.

Indeed.

With this, the father readjusted the baby in his arms and began for the door, but not before looking back longingly at his wife, forever asleep.

After a short while, the other man whispered, We should go…

Reluctantly, the new father responded, looking back at the man, Agreed.

The father glanced once more at his wife, so peaceful even in death. Come, he said to the older woman, who remained by the Queen’s side.

I cannot, My Honor… she responded. I cannot leave her here like this.

The King stepped closer to the old woman. Our Queen is no longer in need of your service. Now, you must care for a new Queen. You must come, for her sake.

The woman, knowing the Queen’s husband was right, reluctantly left the side of the Queen, turned, and did not look back. Before, she had fought back tears, but now, they flowed down her round cheeks, onto her purple-and-white robe. She walked obediently beside the newly widowed father, out of the room.

Immediately, sounds of bombs exploding outside of the windows caught the small party’s attention. The father, still grasping his precious newborn child, who now lay peaceful and unaware, looked out the south-facing windows. In the distance, five miles away, stood Averdiijn, a city of massive proportions, which stood in the center of a crater lake and which was home to the Council Building and a population of nearly two hundred thousand people.

Large fires could be seen blazing, creeping up the lower tiers of the city, decimating all that was in its path. With heartache, the father walked along the curving hall of the palace a thousand feet above the water below. The group descended silently toward the basement level, which only few had access to.

Upon arrival, the man, who had never even been permitted in the castle before, gaped at the large hollow dome-like room that the party had entered into. In its center, some fifty feet below the party, stood a magnificent ship of the purest wood, elegantly carved, and painted with the most gorgeous gold and lapis lazuli. Many men could be seen aboard, preparing for departure. The group climbed down a long flight of stairs to the level of the boat.

Once by its side, a short round-stomached man greeted the party. Where’s the Queen? he remarked shortly after realizing the party was missing one member.

She will not be joining us, the father answered quietly.

"Is she staying?" said the round man incredulously.

"She will not be joining us," the father said more firmly, fighting back tears of his own.

The older woman shook her head at the round man. He understood and backed off.

As the sounds of explosions neared, the party boarded the ship. Once aboard, the father gave the baby to the older woman to be cared for. The older woman walked to her room, which she knew well. The other man that had been in the Queen’s chambers followed, at a loss of what to do with himself.

The King stood firmly on the main deck, longingly looking up to the tiled ceiling of the room. His wife was somewhere above him. He hated himself for leaving her, but he knew he couldn’t take her with him.

The ship, rowed by one hundred men, soon began to move out of the dome-shaped room and into a beautifully painted tunnel. Large murals stood painted upon each side of the room illuminated by a deep-blue glow emanating from the ceiling. Many were simple but told a story deeply symbolic to the people that were currently evacuating to several nearby islands, out of harm’s way. After only ten minutes of rowing, the ship came out of the other side of the tunnel, appearing on the complete opposite side of the caldera wall. The King finally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing they were finally on their way to a new, safer life, free of Imperial domination.

~ ~ ~

Many miles away, atop the spire of the tallest building in all of Averdiijn, an Observer watched the chaos below him unfold. His gaze fell on the fleet of Imperial ships some thousand feet below him. His red robes with silver linings stood still despite the howling wind.

Below, bombs were being shot from nearly two hundred naval vessels. One large destroyer, a formidable ship made from steel, fueled by steam, stood still in the center of the horde. Black smoke funneled from its iconic three stacks in the middle of the ship.

The Observer grinned mischievously. He knew their attack was in vain; however, the whole situation, to the knowledge of no one but him, was going just as he had planned all those years ago.

1

The Observer

Month of the Long Night 26, 999

"What is the meaning of this insubordination!" screamed a small but tough-looking boy. "How dare you wake me at this hour? I will have your head!" the fifteen-year-old threatened.

The guard, who was suffering this abuse, stood nearly a foot over the screaming boy, terrified. The guard attempted to explain himself, But, sir, I—

The teen cut him off, BUT! How dare you talk to me this way? I’m telling father! He’ll teach you about talking back to a superior!

That’s why I’m here… sir, spoke the guard, more quietly than he intended. Although the kid was shorter than he, he was still the son of the General of the Imperial fleet. The guard, dressed in mail and armed, was formidable to most, but not to the son of the General, apparently.

The boy raised his arm, ready to strike the guard. The guard braced himself, knowing he could not fight back in fear of charges of assault.

The boy, just as immediately, lowered it. I forget my manners. Father would not be pleased… A false smile appeared on the boy’s face. So, why are you here again? the boy spoke with heavy sarcasm. Obviously, he had entirely ignored the guard’s last statement.

The guard, still tense, spoke monotonously, Your father has requested you on deck.

"Sir! the boy said forcibly. Your father has requested you on deck, SIR! Understood, you dumb fool?" the boy spat with a heavy accent.

The guard tensed, hitting his polearm onto the metal floor in a salute. Understood, sir!

Good! You are relieved. But next time you interrupt what little time I have to sleep, I will have your head personally delivered to your family back in Asha, understood?

The guard choked. Understood, sir, the guard spoke, deflated.

The boy smiled at the thought of the guard’s family: his wife, his children, opening their door, seeing his severed head staring back at them with blank eyes.

The boy shoved past the guard, savoring the thought, his sick mind thinking of all the power he could have. Oh! How much he craved power.

The boy walked with an air of self-importance along the outer hallway of the large ship. Porthole windows looking out on a clear blue sky lay on his right as he walked toward the aft of the ship. Coming to a flight of stairs, he pushed through a small group of people hanging about.

Get back to work or I’ll have all your heads! he screamed as he walked by them.

The group, panic-stricken, frantically dispersed, fearing to venture down this very hall evermore.

At the top of the steps, an armed guard opened the bulkhead door to the deck. Sir! the guard said as the boy walked through. At least some people know respect, the boy thought ironically.

The boy shielded his eyes to the sudden brightness of the outside world. Damn this country! the boy said under his breath. It’s too damn hot and bright!

Coming from a region where most of the time it was overcast, the clear blue skies were alien to him, as well as painful to look at.

The boy, squinting against the glare of the sun, walked toward the center of the deck toward his father. His father was even more formidable than he was, being nearly six and a half feet tall. His shoulders were broad, and he stood straight and proud. Any person who dared look into his soulless eyes immediately regretted it.

His father wore a red-and-black garb. A blood-red sash bore five black stars, the symbol of High General.

The boy, standing at a mere five feet, was dwarfed by his father. He stood at attention, facing him.

His father was silent.

Several awkward moments passed. The boy, uneasy in the presence of his father, said nothing. But after nearly a minute passed, he spoke up, Father—

QUIET! the General boomed.

The boy took a step back, immediately quieted.

Another minute passed before the General finally spoke, What do you hear?

What? the boy spoke, confused.

"Are you deaf? The man looked at his son. I’ll repeat myself once more, what do you hear?"

The boy stood dumbfounded. Why does Father do this to me? "Um… just the sound of the engines… like always."

The man slapped his son across the face, drawing blood from his nose. How dare you question me? You fool! his father spat.

The boy slouched his shoulders, hurt. He only ever thinks of me as a fool. Is he right?

Listen once more, fool, his father commanded.

The boy listened once more.

After not replying, the father hit him again. What is missing?

The boy spoke quietly after thinking for a few more moments. There’s no… birds? the boy guessed.

SPEAK UP! the General shouted.

People working nearby looked over and were surprised that it wasn’t them being yelled at this time.

The boy spoke up, THERE’S NO BIRDS, FATHER, SIR!

The General stood just as still as he had been for the past few minutes. Correct. And why is that?

Is this a test? Am I being tested? the boy thought incredulously. I’m not sure, Father…

The man slapped him harder this time. The boy wiped at his nose. They are absent due to there being an upcoming storm. It is obvious, you fool! What do they teach you? Use your eyes! The General pointed over the side of the boat.

Sure enough, dark clouds could be seen on the horizon.

I’m sorry for being a fool, Father… the boy resigned.

The father cut him off. "Never be sorry. Being sorry is for the weak. Are we weak?"

No, the boy said curtly, once more wiping at his nose.

Why? the General spoke back, just as curtly.

We are from House Ironsea. Our house is stronger than all but the King’s, and for nearly five hundred years, our house has served only under him. We control the most land under the King, and we will continue to do so, the boy recited.

And being weak…

Will not allow us to do so, the boy finished.

After a brief silence, the General spoke, "Understand this, I did not get this position because I was an Ironsea. I got this position because I earned it. Being sorry is not part of the equation. Instead I learned from my mistakes and disciplined myself. You. Lack. Discipline. Until you gain this, you will never be a true Ironsea."

Yes, Father, sir, the boy said timidly.

Now, I have a job for you. The storm will arrive shortly, and we have just met with a ship disguised as the enemy. They may have word of the False Princess’s whereabouts. I want you personally to question them.

The boy smiled sadistically.

No use of violence, the King said, breaking the boy’s reverie. They may walk with the savages, but they certainly are not savage. They are our people, and thus we will treat them with the utmost respect! We Ironseas do not get our power from being just violent, but from being disciplined and forceful. Violence is only ever used when all other solutions are exhausted.

Yes, Father, sir. The boy saluted and walked toward the right side of the ship. Sure enough, a small ship was docked alongside. It was painted gold and blue, the colors of the enemy. How pathetic. Their ships are weak, just like them. Made of wood, fueled by wind. It’s a wonder they can even sail at all!

The boy climbed down a metal ladder to the deck of the smaller ship. A man dressed in enemy attire walked up to greet him.

The boy smiled, for once without any cruel intentions in mind at the sight of the man.

Uncle Benja! exclaimed the boy with a salute.

The uncle returned it, Nephew Zoka, are you well?

Very, I did not expect you.

Benja lowered his salute, and so did his nephew. The two then, uncharacteristically for the boy, embraced each other.

It has been so long, Uncle, remarked Zoka.

Oh, how have you grown! remarked Uncle Benja.

Nearly three years, was it?

I do believe so.

A brief silence commenced. As they spoke, the rest of the crew chatted as well.

Come inside, nephew. I believe it’s beginning to rain, Benja said, holding out his hand, catching solitary drops of rain.

The two of them walked into the Captain’s quarters of the ship they were on. The ship was only about forty feet long, sitting low in the water. The masts that sprung from the main deck were now closed of its characteristic rectangular sails. A raised Captain’s Quarters was the only other feature set on the back one-third of the ship.

The two sat down in the small room.

Father has commanded me to ask if you know of the Princess’s whereabouts.

Right to business, I see, Uncle Benja said with a hint of sadness. Oh, how he has grown… Uncle Benja thought. I am sorry, I do not. We have met with many league ships, our enemy. All have no idea they even have an infant Princess, when gestured at. After the evacuation, many simply came to the conclusion that the royal family was murdered.

I see… remarked Zoka.

It appears we are the only ones to know.

How do we even know she is still alive then? questioned Zoka.

Well, we found her mother, dead from childbirth. And well, we found no child.

This is known. But who is to say she has not perished since? I’ve heard the savage life expectancy is low.

In certain circumstances, however we must assume she’s still in hiding.

Why?

Uncle Benja laughed. You’re just like your father, persistent and straightforward. Benja took a sip of tea that he had poured during the conversation. "Because even if there’s a small chance of her survival, there is hope for her people. Once she is ten, she will be