The Evermen Saga 01 - Enchantress by James Maxwell

of many swords, while at sea if something went wrong they lost the entire leadership of Raj Altura at a single blow.
    Lord Devon had made a brief comment about Captain Sloan’s description of the Azure Plains being "friendly lands" and won the argument.
    Miro seemed to get along well with the older soldiers. For some reason he was able to avoid the sea sickness that affected many of his fellows, and his willing attitude made him few enemies.
    It had been a long and eventful journey, filled with storms and clear days, arguments and late-night discussions. As they traveled south it had grown hotter, and many of the men, Miro included, had doffed their tunics to be bare-chested in the sun. At first the sailors had stared at Miro’s milk-white skin, but after a few weeks he had developed a deep tan.
    Seeing the life of the traders, he sometimes wished he could be one, and leave his cares behind as he sailed the length and breadth of the world. He was amazed to see that many of the sailors were women. They looked similar to the men, wearing canvas coveralls much as the men did, and they had low, gruff voices.
    One night he had asked a one-eyed soldier named Tuok where they were. Tuok shrugged. "We’ve gone beyond the limits of our maps, young lord." Miro frowned, he had no idea where the nickname had originated, but some of the men had started calling him the name and it had stuck. He sensed no malice in it and so let it stay. "Only the traders know where we are now."
    Miro couldn’t believe people wouldn’t want to map these uncharted lands, or at least to purchase a map made by famous explorers like Toro Marossa. Surely, perhaps in the libraries of the Academy, they must have maps of these lands?
    He resolved himself to ask one of the Buchalanti where they were. It was going to be difficult though; the Buchalanti sailors deferred to the Sailmaster, even to the point of fear. Miro tried striking up a conversation with one of the sailors but the man just looked at him blankly.
    Then, without any action on Miro’s part, an opportunity came. It was early dawn, a time when most of the other members of the Alturan delegation were still asleep and Miro could walk freely around the deck without fear of getting in the way or overstepping his bounds.
    Miro was at the ship’s port rail, gazing out at the strange landscape to the north. They had been following the yellow coast of this land for week upon week. The terrain was barren and devoid of all life. Not a single tree or even a plant could be seen. Heat waves rolled off the ground.
    A man came up to stand next to him.
    "The land of the desert tribes," said the man in a deep, heavily accented voice.
    Miro turned slightly so as not to break the spell. It was the Sailmaster. He knew he had to say something.
    "Such a fearsome land," he said.
    The Sailmaster smiled. "They do not think so."
    "You’ve met them?"
    "Few people have, but yes, I have. A harsh people living a harsh existence. They fight each other, valuing only strength above all else. Survival is the word in these parts. But they love their land, much as I’m sure you love yours."
    Miro had never thought about it before, but now that he was here, further from his homeland than he had ever been in his life, he knew he missed the rivers and lush forests of Altura terribly. He missed Ella, and the way Brandon always grumbled when Ella gave him his cherl but smiled with love to her departing back.
    "Where is your land?" Miro said.
    "My land is here," the Sailmaster gestured to the ocean. "Of course we spend some time in cities, but never too long."
    "Aren’t cities like Schalberg and Castlemere trader cities?"
    The Sailmaster looked surprised. "No, they are not. We spend time there, and many of the inhabitants are descended from Buchalanti stock, but they are not of Raj Buchalantas. They administer themselves, and earn their income from trade. They are traders, but we are the Traders — if you get my distinction? A