Introduction - The Tempest's Child
The tiny vessel was tossed between the jade waves as if it were nothing, and shimmering flashes of silver lightning tore the leaden night sky in two. The wind howled through the torn sails, like a banshee's cry, and hoarse shouts echoed across the deck, lost in the relentless hammer of rain. A young sailor clutched the side of the boat; his body wracked with shudders, and threw up into the turbulent waters below. It was his first voyage. Then it came; the perfect silence in the storm. A silence so deep it was almost touchable, as the ship topped the crest of a wave – a silence that was punctured by the scream of a woman – a woman in labour.
The young man, still trembling, wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, and attempted to raise his voice above the din. "Where are the Umberlants? Why are they not on deck?" He received no answer, and as another, louder scream punctuated the deep yells of the sailors, it dawned on him what was happening.
Deep in the hold of the ship, the sharp tang of the salty air mingled with that of blood and perspiration. A flame flickered and danced, exaggerating the shadows of the five women that were gathered in the corner, their faces grave. The eldest of the five women held the child, her huge, bloodstained and callused hands appearing even more harsh and weather-beaten against the soft, flawless skin of the new-born child. "Is… is it alive?" Asked another of the Umberlants, anxiously, squinting over the older woman's shoulder, to get a better look at the baby. "Aye." The woman replied, gruffly, wrapping the tiny form in a length of grimy white cloth, with suprising gentleness. As she placed the child in the crook of her arm, a hand reached from the make-shift sacking bed the priestesses were gathered around. "He must not know. You know… he will kill her." The voice was thin, and quivering. There was a collective rumbling of mixed anger and despair among the women, although the elder's face remained neutral and calm. "He won't lay a finger on her." She grunted, looking at the sleeping child, and rocking her softly. It was a wonder she didn't wake up in this tempest, she thought.
And it would be a wonder if she lived long at all.