Maia
The Guardian Princess
by
J. Michael Blumer
The Greeks have their water Nerieds. But their world is not the only one with nymphs of the sea. Deep within the ocean of the world of Amerath, a crystal palace is home to many deities. The god of wind, the ruler of the sun, mother of the earth and others reside there when they’re not about the world creating beauty or wreaking havoc, depending on their mood. They sometimes work together or with mortals, more by chance than intent. Nearly all have children, grandchildren and even a great grandchild fleeting about. These nymphs, fairies, sprites, spirits, and demigods and their siblings work to help manage the world and its life. Some work hard. Others have little to do but cast mischief for their own amusement. The Spirit of the Ocean’s offspring help with currents, tides, waves and other matters. They manage storms to match the seasons. They flood the land to enrich the soil or erode beaches to create coves. They shift sands to shape islands and manage depths and shoals. They also do much to aid the humans who use the waters to move between lands, seek food and adventure, battle to conquest or hunt distant riches. Wife to the Ocean’s Spirit bore him four nymphs: one Nymph for the North Sea, one for the South and two more for East and West. The four gave birth to the Seven Daughters of the Seven Waves. Indulged by their mothers, they found more fun in tormenting men than in helping.
The Nymph who controls the cat’s paw wave swirls a tiny pattern on the nearly flat water. Sailors try to read the wave as a sign of faint winds coming their direction. The daughters giggle while the sailors adjust sails and turn rudders, trying unsuccessfully to steer their crafts. Oars and paddles move them forward, but puffs and short breezes twist their sails to make their boat routes ragged.
The Ripple Nymph adds to a sailor’s boredom. Tiny regular waves, barely stronger than the simple ripple, move vessels on a steady but slower than walking pace. The nymphs delight in making sailors yawn. They laugh when drinking is rationed as the number of days to reach land increases.
The nymphs play games with their cousins of the wind. Stiffer waves are a sailors’ delight but when gusts blow spray, from cresting water, sailors begin to worry. Stronger winds and waves, rise higher and space wide apart to toss small vessels and churn swells that rise and fall to make the day unpleasant.
The older nymphs and their blustery friends compete to see who can tower the steepest wave, to blow a wind too strong for any sail, or even roll a ship and scuttle it. The Nymphs fill their time chasing, pushing, herding sailors to the edges of the world or to the bottom of sea.
As more men sailed the waters, they began to acknowledge the spirits of the sun, the water, of fire and more. The men thought the nymphs and fairies and spirits and gods had feelings like them. The men believed lightning was some god striking out in anger. The men believed gardens grew better when the gods were happy. Rain, that didn’t come, signaled something wrong. The men worked hard at pleasing gods. The men placed flowers around their gardens. They offered honey as homage to prevent gods or nymphs from causing wildfires. For the Seven Daughters of the Seven Waves, sailors tried honey rubbed on their oars. They spread earth, tossed burning wood, and placed other offerings into the waters. Despite their gifts to the sea, stronger waves still swallowed ships.
A New day began calm. Cat-paw waves copied pastel colors and shapes stolen the dawn sky. The mirrored water changed to spray-rimmed swells when wind cousins of the water nymphs woke. Wrongful winds joined the game and shepherd grey stained clouds across the sun to hide their mischief.
In pre-dawn to that day, families of men, women and children rubbed sleepy eyes. They exchanged greetings, broad yawns and nods as they boarded small boats to prepare to fish. Only a pair of oars moved the smallest boats and families. Other boats used six oars and six men to glide swiftly across the building waves. Already on the sea, a twin masted vessel woke as sailors raised white canvas sails and retrieved their tethering anchor.
The sister nymphs and their cousins of the wind began their mischief like a dance that starts slow then swirls and twists in a faster pace. The seven waves crashed and swarmed. Wind played strange melodies using tightened ropes like fiddle strings. All but the masted ship turned toward shore. Men rowed hard against the waves and currents that pushed them further from the land. The Seven Sisters reveled when the first small boat dumped all it held into the frigid raging water.
The Father Sun spread small patches of the clouds so he, the spirit of the wind, the father of the sea, and other gods could watch their children at play, tormenting the land men.
Aboard the single ship, men strained, pulling ropes and changing angles of the sails when the captain shouted orders. The ship grabbed the attention of the nymphs who stirred the sea to bounce and tip the struggling vessel. Above the clouds, the gods watched and laughed until a single voice rang out. Its loudness pushing back, stilling a howl from the wind.
“Let them be! Play your evil games somewhere else!”
“Who spoke?” The Spirit of the land asked. “What matter is this to any but those who rule the winds and sea?”
“Or to me, who rules all,” The Spirit of the sun called. “The voice is of my granddaughter. Maia’s anger shows.”
“One of the Seven then?” the father of all winds asked. “Which of them?”
“No,” the sun said, then gave a low-pitched chuckle. “You all know of the Seven Granddaughters. But who of you knows the eighth? She has nothing given to her to rule, but she toils harder on behalf of man than even you, mother of the earth. It’s true. She is my favorite. I do not tinker with her doing, but just watch. That is what I tell you all to do. Just watch.”
Below, it seemed the competition was between the men with their ship, and the Seven Sisters and their cousin winds. “Thank you, grandfather,” Maia called. Again, she demanded, her voice louder than the wails of the wind children, “Leave this place!”
She sighed, knowing neither the winds nor the waves would stop their play simply to appease her. Maia donned her earthly form. Taller than most women, slim and lovely, but with strength given to her by her grandfather, she appeared through wind and spray to stand near the captain on the ships’ deck. He strained, holding tightly to the spokes of the large steering wheel. He struggled to turn the rudder, yet the winds and waves ignored him and the ship tossed with no clear path. Men dangled, clinging to rigging as the mast swayed wildly trying to shake them loose. The men knew that falling to the water meant death. The Seven Sisters would drag them to the depths.
Maia shouted orders to the captain and the men. The cousin winds buffeted her, pasting shorter, wet strands, of hair to her cheeks and forehead. Longer chestnut locks flailed wildly around her head. Dressed like the sailors in brown pants gathered at the knee, her sailcloth color shirt tails danced out from behind her. Her leather vest showed stains of water that dripped from her face.
“More sail,” she ordered.
The sailors thought her crazy and stared but broke their trance and scurried to furl the second sail when the captain added his voice to Maia’s commands.
“We’ll best them. I promise you,” Maia yelled against the wind to the captain and crew .
“Best who?” the captain asked in his loudest voice.
Maia looked over her shoulder as she headed for the bow. “We’ll best the Seven Sisters and my cousins. It’s they who storm your ship and hope to bring you misery.”
“But--,” The captain’s voice cut short. A wave pummeled and rocked the ship. The captain fell. Cascading sea swept him nearly overboard. On hands and knees, he hurried back to the steering wheel, using it to pull himself upright. “I only see two choices,” he called. “Follow you or follow the Sea Sisters to a grave. Either path may cause our deaths but following you might bring us satisfaction from the journey. Who are you? How have you come here?”
“I am Maia, granddaughter to the gods, the spirits, the crafters, and guardians of this world.”
“My apologies, Princess,” the captain yelled and dropped to one knee. “We have no flower petals or honey to honor you.”
“Ha!” Maia scoffed. “I don’t seek homage. The gods did not send me. I come alone to guard you from the seven waves and many winds. Man the wheel,” she shouted to the captain. “Let’s sail,” she yelled to the men.
Maia stood at the bow. It rose and fell, diving deep within the waves. The bow shuddered as it climbed only to dive again. Maia used her will to steer the ship when the sisters’ waves twisted it, trying to spin and capsize it. Using will alone was the tool of the wind and the waves. Maia cast forward strands of thick magic, affixing them to the gunnels, making them like reins to train a wild stallion. Between laughs and cries of joy she barked more orders to the men and instructions to the captain. The ship responded to Maia and the crew. It rose higher in the sea, shaking off the water’s weight. With added sail it sped, skimming, skipping across the waves. Dolphins joined in. They flanked the bow and surfed an eighth wave; the bow wave cleaved by Maia. High above, the sun smiled and banished clouds to clear the sky. He wanted all the gods to watch his granddaughter.
One by one the Sisters moved away, seeking other waters to play their games. The Spirit of the Wind sent her children off to be a breeze across a meadow, and to rustle forest leaves. She left behind one wind picked by Maia. It ob eyed she command and stretched the ships sails tight.
Now in calmer water, sailors briefly stopped their duties to warm in the sunlight and shake out damp clothes. Summoned to the deck, they stood at the captain’s side. He and the men bowed to Maia. “How do we worship you?” he asked. “How can we summon you? I know we will need you many times in many seas.”
“I told you, Maia said, “I do not want your worship. I want to watch you build your sailing skills. I know with skill and practice you will best my sisters and my cousins on your own. Create a likeness of me or one of my sea friends like the playful dolphins. Place it at the foremost of your ship, before the bow. From there I will sail with you.
Sailers turned their heads to look at each other. When they looked back, Maia was gone. When they moored their ship, they commissioned craftsmen to carve a likeness of Maia, escorted on either side by wooden dolphins. At the bow, to guide their ship, both it and their story would travel so many lands so all who sail would know Maia’s and her story.
