I don't know about Kings and such. Maybe the patriarchists and their allies did make a last stand here. But I'll bet a niche and all my winter rights they never caused this . . . devastation.
There was another, more ancient story. An event also seldom spoken of. One nearly as pivotal to Stratos Colony as its founding. Maia felt certain another enemy had been fought here, long ago. And from the looks of things, it had been barely beaten.
The Great Defense. Funny no one in our group made the connection, telling stories round the campfire, but that battle must also have raged here in the Dragons' Teeth.
It was as if the Kings' legend served to cover up an older tale. One in which the role of men had been admirable. As if those in power want its memory left only to hermits and pirates. She recalled the ancient, eroded, bas-relief sculpture she'd found amid the buried ruins at the temple in Grange Head, depicting bearded and unbearded human forms grappling horned demons under the sheltering wings of an avenging Mother Stratos. Maia added it to a growing collection of evidence . . . but of what? To what conclusion? She wasn't sure, yet.
A formation of low clouds moved aside, exposing the expanse of sea and stone to a flood of brilliant light. Blinking, Maia found herself jarred from the relentless flow of her dour thoughts. She smiled. Oh, I've changed all right, and not just by growing tougher. It's a result of everything I've seen and heard. Renna, especially, got me thinking about time. The clans urged single vars to leave off any useless pondering of centuries, millennia. Summerlings should concentrate on success in the here and now. The long term only becomes your affair once your house is established and you have a posterity to worry about. To consider Stratos as a world, with a past that can be fathomed and a destiny that might be changed, was not how Maia had been raised to think.
But it's not so hard, learning to picture yourself as part of a great chain. One that began long before you, and will go on long after.
Renna had used the word continuum meaning a bridge across generations, even death itself. A disturbing notion, for sure. But ancient women and men had faced it before there ever were clones, or else they would never have left old Earth. And if they could do it, a humble var like me can, too.
Such thoughts were more defiant than measuring constellations, or even playing Game of Life puzzles. Those had been mere man-stuff, after all. Now she dared to question the judgments of savant-historians. Seeing through maternalistic, conservative propaganda to a fragment of truth. Fragments are almost as dangerous as nothing at all, she knew. Yet, somehow, it must be possible to penetrate the veil. To figure out how everything she had seen, and been through, held together.
How will I explain this to Leie? Maia mused. Must I first kidnap her away from her reaver friends? Haul her, bound and gagged, somewhere to have the meanness fasted out of her?
Maia no longer meditated wistfully on the missed joy of shared experience with her sibling. The Leie of old would never have understood what Maia now thought and felt. The new Leie, even less so. Maia still missed her twin, but also felt resentment toward her harsh behavior and smug assumption of superiority, when they had last, briefly, met.
Maia longed far more to see Renna. Does that make me a daddy's girl? The juvenile epithet held no sting. Or am I a pervert, nurturing hearth feelings toward a man?
Philosophical dilemmas such as "why?" and "what?" seemed less important than "how?" Somehow, she must get Renna to safety. And if Leie chose to come also, that would be fine, too.
"We had better start thinking about putting in somewhere. It's that or risk hitting rocks in the dark." Brod held the tiller, constantly adjusting their heading to maintain southward momentum. With his other hand, he rubbed his chin, a common male mannerism, though in his case another distant summer must come before he felt a beard. "Normally I'd suggest putting out to open ocean," he continued. "We'd lay a sea anchor, keep watch on wind and tide, and rejoin the archipelago at daybreak." Brod shook his head unhappily. "Wish I didn't feel so blind without a weather report. A storm could be just over the horizon, and we'd never know in time."
Maia agreed. "At best, we'd waste hours and come back exhausted." She unrolled the map. "Look, there's one large island in this area with a charted anchorage. It's not too far off our route, near the westernmost line of Teeth."
Brod leaned forward to read aloud. "Jellicoe Beacon. . . . Must've been a lighthouse sanctuary once, like Halsey. Deactivated and deserted, it says."
Maia frowned, feeling suddenly as if she had heard that name before. Although the sun still lay some distance above the horizon, she shivered, ascribing the feeling to this creepy place. "Uh … so, shall we jibe to a sou'western tack, Cap'n?"
