"I am Polo, from the Island of Maricopa, a little distance from here."
The young man speaks softly as he introduces himself. He is tall, muscular, and speaks softly.
"I am Mindaza, from Sulaya Island."
"Nice to meet you. Miss Islander?!" Polo smiled.
"Don't call me that" Mindaza said and frowned.
"I am amazed. And I'm happy because I meet someone like you. My grandfather said Islanders are smart and strong people" Polo proudly says these words.
"I don't think so... But please, put me down first" Mindaza said.
At Mindaza's command, the young man gently lowered her to the ground. When she stood up, her strength seemed to have returned. She was able to hold onto her sword, and remembered the time she had been learning the basic movements, for fighting, using the sword with her mother.
"What are you doing here?"
Their voices collided, spoken at the same instant, sharp with surprise.
Polo was already crouched beside her, calm as stone. The fire behind him still smoldered, its embers breathing faintly, while the sea whispered only a few yards away. His coracle lay overturned near a thorny bramble, as if guarding them both.
"You didn't eat since last night," he said gently. "You must be hungry. Do you remember where you are?"
Mindaza blinked, the world slowly knitting itself back together. The scent of salt and smoke filled her lungs. She reached for him, gripping his arm, and pulled herself up from the bed of freshly cut ferns.
"You cared for me," she said, her voice hoarse.
"You needed care," Polo replied simply.
She studied him then... taller than her, lean, his long face framed by untamed brown hair, eyes steady and unreadable.
"Don't you want to know where I came from?" she asked. "What have I done?"
"You'll tell me," he said, "if you wish to."
She frowned. "You're not curious? A woman washes ashore from the sea, and you don't question it?"
"You'll tell me," he repeated, and this time his slow smile softened the evening air.
"We were crossing the Forth," Mindaza said at last. "The northern warriors... their ships might still be hunting us."
The wind tugged at her linen as she waited for him to press her for more. He didn't. He only stood there, meeting her gaze as if the truth would come when it was ready.
"My sword!" she gasped suddenly. "Where is my sword?"
"Here." Polo nodded toward the bush. "Beside your chain mail. And your dirk."
Relief surged through her as she lifted the sword, pressing it to her chest. Then confusion followed. "I was wearing chain mail."
"I know," Polo said calmly. "Rowing would've been easier without it."
"You removed it?" Anger flared, sharp and instinctive. "You had no right."
"None," he agreed evenly. "Except the right to help you."
Her arms crossed over her chest as she stepped back, embarrassment warring with fury. His gaze never wavered.
"Now," Polo said, turning to the fire, "while you put on armor you don't need yet, I'll get you something to eat. Whatever awaits you today, you'll need strength."
He stirred the embers, coaxing the flame from ash.
"I'm heading north," Mindaza said.
"That's a long road," he replied, pouring porridge into a wooden platter and adding milk from a small gourd. "Eat first."
With the chain mail secured, her emotions steadied. "Who are you?"
"I already told you. Polo."
"Do you live here?" she asked, tasting the porridge.
He poured honey over it, golden and thick. "It adds flavor."
Her eyes widened as she tasted it before. "I've never had this."
"Never had honey?"
"Not like this." She smiled despite herself.
"Bees," he said solemnly.
"I know that," she laughed softly. "I just can't imagine you keeping them."
"There are wild bees," he said. "Like wild people."
She studied him. "So what are you? Apart from making boats and helping unconscious warriors?"
He shrugged. "I live where my feet stop. I walk where the road allows."
"No home? No kin?"
"My family knows where I am," he said quietly. "They watch from afar."
She lifted his stuff. "Is this your weapon? A magic staff?"
He shook his head. "An axe. Blackstone. My father's gift. The handle holds my mother's black pearl, it's barely found from the deepest sea level.
"You face the world alone with only that?"
Polo smiled. "I build ships. I dream. Sometimes that's enough."
Mindaza rested her hand on her sword. "You're braver than most men I know."
When she finished eating, she exhaled. "Thank you. I'll leave at dawn."
She paused, then casually said, "You could come with me. If you want... a small adventure."
She lay back in the coracle, exhaustion finally claiming her. Polo said nothing. He only added more driftwood to the fire, feeding the flames so the warmth would reach her as the sea continued its endless watch.
In the morning;
Polo stood at the edge of the shore, the wind tugging at his cloak, as Mindaza slung her sword across her back. The blade caught the light of the sun, its edge gleaming like a promise yet to be fulfilled. Without looking back, she started down the stretch of sand, her footsteps steady, resolute.
"Where are you going?" Polo called after her.
"To hunt my enemies," Mindaza replied, her voice low but unyielding, as constant as the tide.
After a few moments, Polo frowned and raised his voice again. "You're heading north. The northern men roam there."
Mindaza stopped. The sea crashed behind her, waves breaking like distant thunder. She turned slowly. "Yes. They killed my people. They killed my mother." Her hand tightened at her side. "Do you know the road?"
Polo hesitated. "The road is taught with danger," he said. "Only a few people who can take it and return alive"
"Then point it out to me," Mindaza said. She did not admit what burned behind her eye... that she had no idea where to start, no certainty, except that she knows that the location of her enemy, is in the north.
Polo studied her for a long moment before sighing. "I could take you there in my boat," he said at last, "if you don't object to my company."
Mindaza masked the flicker of relief in her chest. "I don't object," she answered calmly, "so long as I don't pull you from your own path."
A faint smile crossed Polo's face. "I'm a poor man. One road is much like another to me."
He gathered his few belongings, a worn pot, a cup, a spoon wrapped in tweed, then rolled them into a sack and placed it behind in the small boat rocking gently by the shore. He straightened and looked at her.
"Ready?"
"Ready," Mindaza said.
"It would take three days on foot," Polo explained as he pushed the boat into the surf.
"But by sea, we can pass the five hours, through the two small islands. We can hide there if needed. Once we sight their camp, we'll decide where to land and walk."
He glanced at her sword. "You look like a warrior. Can you truly use that thing?"
"I can," Mindaza said simply.
Polo grunted. "Let's hope the sea is kinder than men, and you won't have to."
They traveled west first, following the curve of the shoreline as the boat cut through the water. The salt air clung to Mindaza's skin, the rhythm of the oars steady and hypnotic. When they finally reached the island, Polo moved with a long, tireless stride, covering ground as if the land itself welcomed him.
Mindaza followed, matching his pace as best she could. She caught glimpses of his strength in motion, the flex of muscle, the certainty of each step, and quickly forced her thoughts elsewhere. The feelings stirring within her were unwelcome, unfamiliar... and dangerously comforting.
After a long silence, she spoke. "There's something I need to tell you."
Polo didn't slow. "Tell me."
"I came to your island with someone," she said. "But she's gone now. I don't know where she is... or what they did to her."
"I found you all alone in the boat, unconscious" Polo replied quietly. "There was no one else."
Mindaza clenched her hands, wrapping thick rubber bindings around her palms to keep them dry, to keep her grip steady, on her weapons, and on herself. "That's why I must find the northern men," she said. "As soon as possible."
"Revenge?" Polo asked.
Mindaza nodded. "I hope you understand."
He was silent for a moment, then gave a short, knowing laugh. "I do," he said. "That's why I'm here. Seems I've decided to take a small adventure... with a stranger and the sea."
The waves roared around them, ancient and unforgiving, as fate quietly shifted its course.