Defiance

Chapter One: Felecia Stormchaser

The morning dawned on the thirtieth day Felecia Stormchaser woke up on the shores of the Southern Republic bruised, battered, and water logged. Beautiful rays of orange and yellow broke through the dusk and chased away the stars from the previous night. As the two suns began to rise, so did the former captain of The White Wind.

She stood, stretching her back to try to relieve the pain that came from sleeping on the beach for half a month. Though never one to complain about her accommodations, she was growing weary from traveling so slowly. She preferred the half broken beds and constantly swinging hammocks of a broken down ship to sleeping on the ground. Sleep, however, was the least of her worries. Her constant companion, Urt, was struggling to keep going with his broken leg.

Urt was a Skirlx. Though he stood and walked much like a man, his face was catlike, with pointed ears on the top of his head, and a tail that flowed from underneath the tattered and sun bleached clothes he wore: simple breeches and a shirt. His normally pristine gray fur was matted and sandy.

Felecia looked down at her first mate and sighed.

When the goblins had attacked their vessel a month ago, the pair had fought like mad to save their ship and their crew. A goblin shaman's spell had torn the vessel in two and arrows had done in the rest.

As far as Felecia knew, she and Urt were the only survivors.

They had leaped from the ship as it tore in two with a green blast of raw energy. By grabbing onto the pieces of the shipwreck that remained, they had been able to float to shore. Since then they had lived off of whatever fish they could cook over fire created by gathering driftwood and beach grasses.

Though they had walked past two settlements as well as the river that lead to Conny, the capital of the Southern Republic, the two had continued to trek south.

Merc raiders roamed the country side and with them came the rumors: fires in the woods of the elves to north. Death in the mountains of the dwarves to the east. Felecia knew what these tidings meant: a change in the attitudes of men towards the other races was coming.

Seeing as Urt was one of the last of his dying race, as well as her closest friend, Felecia dared not take him to any town or village.

And so the two had walked south, slowly, but still, they had walked. Urt's leg was bound between two pieces of their former ship with cloth from their old sails to allow it to set and eventually, heal.

Urt stirred in his sleep and Felecia's brow furrowed.

His fever had started two days ago and had yet to subside.

Because of his condition, they had traveled even slower than they normally did. Felecia could only offer him so much support before tiring. Urt stood seven feet tall and was ripping with muscles. Underneath his bulk, the captain found herself worn out by the end of each day's travels.

Still, she knew they must reach Sea Gate.

For in that city at the very southern tip of the country was her home.

Or at least the closest thing she had ever known to one.

Abandoned at a young age by parents who could not support her, Felecia had been raised by her aunt. The woman was as poor as dirt when she accepted Felecia into her home, but had since made a living in politics. Or so Felecia heard.

Though Felecia had willingly helped around the feeble house with the day-to-day chores, she found them dull and boring. She had always longed for adventure and new horizons. When she came of age at 18, she had fled the mundane life in order to sail the seas.

When she was on a boat she no longer an orphan whose parents hadn't care enough about her to keep her. She was no simple child, performing mind numbing tasks in order to "keep house," or whatever her aunt had called it.

She desired more.

It was in the sea air that she breathed in life. It was in the roll of the ocean tides that she felt alive. It was at the helm of a ship that she felt like she belonged.

Felecia looked out over the sea as the twin suns of Gilia rose in the east behind her and cast light over the sea before her. After weaving her hair into a single braid, she allowed her shoulders to droop.

A sign of weakness she would never have allowed herself in front of her crew.

Felecia Stormchaser was a feared captain and a skilled sailor, a commander of men when other women were too afraid to venture out on a rowboat.

But here, on land with an injured friend and first mate, Felecia felt like a little girl again.

Rise. Walk. Eat. Walk. Eat. Sleep.

And then do it all over the next day.

There was no adventure in the slow trek they had before them. And Felecia's heart was heavy for her friend.

How long could he endure the fever before it broke? How long could they travel before they had to stop and finally get help? Swords and daggers could spear fish and bring down birds to eat. But they could do nothing for a fever.

Felecia turned again to her companion as he rolled from his back to his side and onto his elbow.

Urt's eyes came open in the first true light of day. The yellow eyes found Felecia's green ones quickly.

"Sleep well, friend?" she said as she stooped to put her hand to his head.

His forehead was still wet with perspiration and hot to the touch.

"We'll need to find something for your fever soon or we'll be..."

But whatever it is Felecia may have thought they would do if medicine were not found soon was lost.

She looked up over the dunes and saw five Merc raiders came riding towards them on horseback, swords drawn and cries of battle in their mouths.