Book One: Fate
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CHAPTER FOUR: Following Fate
The night had gone by too slowly. Time seemed to stand still, in contempt, allowing the forsaken thoughts to circle in his mind as long as possible. He kept telling himself that it was not right, that it could not be. How he longed for the farmers life now.
Sixty.
That was how many tiles cover the dull cream ceiling to the room from left to right.
Sixty.
Twenty sheets of wallpaper were around the room and there were two mirrors. He had counted almost everything in the room, trying to forget. He tried to go to sleep, but it only gave the horrid thoughts a chance to attack. If his mind wandered, it wandered to those thoughts. Why did it have to be like that? Why did he have to face such difficult decisions alone?
Tylor looked over to Joel. His friend was there for him, but could never fully understand what was going on. He blindly listened and believed without thinking it through. Any normal person would think he was insane, but not Joel.
Looking to the window, a dank evening still greeted him. He did not want to pace in case he woke his sleeping friend, so he could do nothing but lay on his comfortable bed examining, in detail, the entirety of the room. But always the thoughts lingered. There was no avoiding them, no putting them off. He had to think about them eventually. But everything seemed a little more jaded at night.
Murdered by that man, that man dressed in black, named Tai. He did look powerful and there was a strange feeling about him, the nauseous feeling he had felt so many times before came back when thinking of that man. Something was very odd about him, but he did not look at him long enough to figure out what. Could his imagination really have thought up someone like that? It was doubtful. Thinking of his father only made his mind dance to and fro, from what he had seen and to happy childhood memories. When he and his father trained he was always happy. The old Sand Pit was perfect, built by Zan specially. Every morning his father would leave the house early to get in some training alone, and then by afternoon when Tylor awoke he would join him for sparring in the pit. Zan used to train alone outside of the village in the fields, but after Tylor became interested in learning he constructed the Sand Pit for them both. Eventually it was open to anyone from the village with a wish to learn.
Such memories lead him to those of his mother. He could not remember his mother very well. Vague shadowed pictures in his mind from early childhood were all he had. He had no idea of what she looked like now or anything more detailed. To see her now, even if the reason was completely unbelievable, that would be good enough.
Who am I trying to convince? He thought.
Cursing under his breath, he collapsed into his pillow. The soft, smooth, fabric caressed his head and made him feel slightly more at ease. He sighed. Damn the dreams, he did not care any more. He had to tell his mother what happened, that was reason enough to visit her. That meant he would need money to pay for the fare on a ship traveling to the main land. The money he had been saving (which may not have even been enough) was safely stored back at his room in Samilo, within the wreckage that was once his home.
The pounding headache and sick feeling suddenly returned. Sitting up quickly, he grasped his skull. A beat like that of a large bass drum battered the side of his head causing him to whimper in pain. It had been that bad many times before and it always seemed to be when he thought about traveling and belongings. Stretching across his bed, he half leaned over the end of it and focused on the vision of his leather satchel. The banging seemed to get more and more intense and occurred in greater numbers when he was searching for, or putting things in, the satchel. The pain seemed to stop this time, as he held it firmly in hand. Pulling it up onto his bed he held it before him.
Turning it upside down and shaking, using both hands for support on opposite ends, he emptied the content of his bag out. Sitting back, Tylor looked on, astonished. Before him sat the clothes he knew he had packed, a couple of pairs for him and Joel (mostly white fabric tops and blue linen bottoms). Also before him, however, was a dirty old pouch tied at the top with a simple bit of old string. It was the pouch he had kept the money he had been saving for his trip to see his mother. Money collected from chores and the like.
I remember now, he thought, when I went to collect things to head to Coppers, I looked at it and… placed it in. I never looked back, I reached into my drawer, placed it in the bottom of the satchel and kept packing, but I never once acknowledged it…
Looking blankly across the room, Tylor sat still. It was not possible that he would not see the money and not possible he would simply forget placing it in his satchel. Unless it was yet more proof that there was outside influences in effect. It was the same influence that invaded his sleep, the same influence that showed the murder of his father and the source of the mystifying female voice.
Destiny was like predetermined future, actions ahead plotted out like a clever plan of action constructed by someone else. The voice had spoken of it and fate. As far as he knew, they were the same thing. Did that mean he was being guided? Was his overlooking the money pouch for the past four days planned out? Did the source of the voice have so much power as to partly control his thoughts? It was all too unsettling. As far as he was concerned decisions made were done on the spot. People could guess your actions, but can never control your future. But then, why did he feel more stupid thinking that, than the idea he had been controlled? Maybe it was the dreams that have made him believe the unbelievable. Part of him just wanted to count his blessings and use the money as he originally planned. Reasoning behind it would have been nice, but none presented itself as he sat there.
Perhaps time would prove informative.
Opening his tired eyes slowly, Tylor was finally greeted by morning. He lay sprawled out and fully dressed on his bed with his satchel and its content strewn across the sheets. One of the soft pillows still cushioned his messy hair, the other lay battered and bruised on the floor next to the bed. A groan came from the direction of Joel’s bed as his friend sat up in a daze. Eyes half open, he looked over to Tylor then rubbed his hair flat as best he could with his hands.
“Your hair looks like it exploded! To think, I thought mine was bad!” he said with a large, dazed, grin.
Tylor’s eyes looked upwards as he blew a bit of his fringe out of the way. The hand not holding him up felt along his hair. It was a mess, all over the place. He smiled back. It seemed that both of them were putting on a brave face after the previous night’s discovery. Still with a smirk on his face, Joel staggered in the direction of the door and opened it. He wandered down the hall in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Tylor looking into one of the bedrooms mirrors, trying fruitlessly to tame his hair.
The weather that morning was not as warm as the others, a dull gray sky welcomed Tylor’s view as he stepped out onto the bedrooms balcony. Wrathe did not seem as busy, even though it was almost afternoon. The streets seemed quieter and void of people. The sound of sea gulls and some other birds coming from the dock district had precedence today. The high pitched squawking was easily distinguishable as apposed to the day before, when the sound of the busy streets drowned out those from the docks. A bitter breeze blew in from the sea too. It looked like a spell of bad weather was due. Regardless, a little rain and wind could not hinder the things he had to do today. First, he had to go to the dock district to check the price of passage to the main land. Then, he had to meet with the people heading back to Samilo and say goodbye to Joel. He sighed and leaned on the balcony bar as he did the night before. It was going to be hard saying goodbye to Joel; he was not sure how the kid would take it. He did not even know when he would be back. What if his mother asked him to stay with her? Would he ever come back to the island? Could he really say goodbye forever to his brother?
“It’s the ups and downs of life that make it worth living. One way or another, experience is the goal of everyone’s life. Experience is like a two sided coin or double-edged sword; you cannot have the good without the bad. It is just the way things are.”
He laughed to himself. His father had said that once. A member of the village had been attacked by Inem in the hills near Samilo and died. Tylor had seen the grieving widow and was saddened to see her like that. He was quite young at the time, about thirteen. It made him wonder, as he gazed at the gloomy horizon, if his father was just trying to explain why people died or parted ways or moved on in a nice child-friendly way. Perhaps he really meant it.
Walking back inside the room, he saw Joel return to the bedroom with his hair thoroughly soaked with water. Walking over to Tylor’s bed, he searched the content of the satchel (which was still strewn around the bed) and found the shirt he had had on when he fell into the stream. Pulling it down over his stomach and stretching his arms out sideways, he yawned loudly. He did not seemed bothered that the satchels content had been thrown out onto the bed, but when he noticed the money pouch, he paused.
“I didn’t know you brought your money with you,” he said, puzzled.
Tylor knew that Joel had looked in the satchel at least twice prior to them arriving in Wrathe, yet he had not seen the pouch either. He was more puzzled than his friend was, but did not say anything. Shrugging it off for now, he changed shirts with another creased one from the bag. While he changed into a ruffled white linen shirt, he explained that he had to find out if he had enough money to get a ticket to the main land and then see the group that were heading back to Samilo before they left. He chose his words carefully, trying to hint at the fact Joel had to stay behind. He did not just want to say it flat out, but his subtlety seemed lost on his friend.
“I don’t know Tylor, it may not even be enough for one ticket let alone two,” Joel said with an annoyed look on his face.
Too astonished to continue speaking, he stared blankly forward without saying anything. A lump formed in his throat and he could feel himself begin to sweat. Joel had already assumed that they were both going to travel to the main land. Was there even a second that he thought that he would not? Now he had little choice other than to tell the kid straight out. It was better to do it then rather than later. Regardless of when he did it, he knew it would hurt his friend’s feelings, but that could not be helped.
“Joel I…” Tylor paused, looking round to him; “I thought you would, you know, stay on the island and go back to Samilo with the others…” he trailed off.
The annoyed expression on his young friends face changed to that of utter shock and disbelief. Tylor apologized to him and sighed, but it did not look like saying sorry was going to be enough. The kid looked hurt.
“I don’t want to go back there!” Joel suddenly cried. “I want to travel with you and see the main land!”
With a shake of his head, Tylor sighed again and said it was not that he did not want him to go, but that he was getting into something that he had to sort out himself and that he might not even come back to the island once he found his mother.
I would mention Tai, but I feel like laughing at myself when I do, he thought. I’m trying to find my fathers killer who I saw in my dreams, like he’d believe that anyway…
“You don’t even think you’re coming back?” the kid questioned, starting to sniff. “You’re all I have left, Tylor! I don’t want to go back to Samilo. I don’t want to see what’s left of my house...and…”
Sitting down on the bed, Joel stopped talking, but was still sniffing to himself. He wiped his hand across the bottom of his nose. Tylor did not know what to say, he was not good at that type of thing. He wanted to travel with his friend and did not want him to go home, but it was too dangerous. But he was beginning to understand how Joel felt. Maybe it would be to hurtful, since they had left Samilo he had seemed fine, not troubled by thoughts of his parents at all. Maybe Joel wanted to escape from those feelings. The fact remained, however, that they did not have enough money for two tickets and Tylor had hoped to have some money left over, after getting a ticket, to purchase supplies. His thoughts turned to the villagers heading back to Samilo. They had to have some money with them as they purchased rooms at the inn, it was possible they would be willing to loan some money to Tylor. His fathers name was respected in Samilo, so that reputation could pass down onto him. It felt like grasping at straws, but there was a chance they could. Knowing now that Joel wanted to escape the location of his parent’s deaths made it clear he had to come with him, even if it was dangerous. There were things, however, that Joel could have no part in, such as the search for Tai (if the man even existed) and there was no telling how his mother would take to either of them. He looked over to Joel again, the kid so close he could call him a brother. If he could pick anyone to travel with it would be him, but would taking him along be too dangerous?
“Joel, listen,” he paused making sure he grabbed his attention, “alright, you can come with me to the main land. We’ll find a way.”
A huge smile appeared on Joel’s face. Though his eyes were still red and puffy from crying, it was good to see him looking so happy again. Jumping up onto his bed, he leapt over to Tylor’s and grabbed him. Shoving into him playfully, he fell back onto the bed, laughing. Pulling himself back up, he sat next to Tylor on the bed and kicked his feet off the base of the wooden bed struts, all the while still smiling.
“There are conditions though,” Tylor said. “One; you have to listen to me and do as I ask. Two; if things get dangerous you have nothing to do with it, and third; if anyone asks, tell them your name is Joel Sabre. It’ll make things a lot easier if people think we’re brothers traveling together.”
His young friend nodded. Standing up, Joel started punching at the air in front of him in a stance Tylor had shown him in one of their secret sparring sessions. His father had always referred to that stance as taku, which in some language he had never heard of, meant offensive strike.
“Joel Sabre, warrior of Samilo!” Joel shouted and laughed to himself.
Not entirely sure of what the kid was talking about; Tylor tilted his head and gave him a questioning look. Joel put down his hands and shrugged, slightly embarrassed.
Making things more difficult was probably not the best thing Tylor could have done. He had just made getting to the main land a lot harder now that he had to find passage for two people, but at least now he had a traveling companion. He had not been looking forward to traveling to a strange new place alone. It had always been something that had worried him since he started collecting his money for the trip.
After packing up their belongings into the satchel, the boys ventured downstairs to the bar area of the inn where they were served breakfast, which apparently came inclusive with the payment for the room. Sitting down at a small varnished wood table, they ate the piping hot meal served to them. A few minutes past until they noticed anyone from the Samilo group entering the room. One of them had appeared at the base of the stairs and had noticed the boys eating. After first retrieving his own meal, he joined them at the table.
“Good morning, lads. The others are just getting their things together. After we’ve ate our fill, we’re fetching that militia lackey and then we’re off to Coppers on a cart, so make sure you’re ready.”
Joel remained silent and continued tucking into his meal while Tylor explained the plan of action to the villager from Samilo. He did not need to hear an in depth explanation, only that they would not be traveling back to Samilo with them on the cart. Reluctantly, Tylor asked about travel costs and hinted at them possibly not having enough money. The man smirked at them.
“Ah, after some cash are ye? Well you are Zan’s boy so I guess that means you can be trusted. Old Rustin has our group’s cash. You know what it’s like here and money isn’t exactly needed back home. I’ll have a word with him once he’s down.”
The man was referring to Samilo’s usage of what money they had. Their community had no need for it, apart from when venturing to Wrathe. It was, after all, a town which employed the use of money similar to that as the main land for buying things or staying at inns and such. It looked like that when the group had left Samilo one man, Rustin, was placed in charge of handling the distribution of the money they had. He cast his mind back to the group drinking the day before. That was probably not the correct use for the funds, but he decided it was best not to draw attention to such thoughts when trying to scrounge some for them.
A short time later, the others from the Samilo group entered the bar for their late breakfast. The boys stayed quiet while the others spoke amongst themselves, mostly complaining about Wrathe’s opinion of the “crazy claims” regarding the savage storm in Samilo. They felt hurt and disgusted. One mentioned that they were laughed at. It was easy to be angry at the militia, but the story of the storm would seem pretty unbelievable since they had beautiful sunshine the last few days. It still annoyed him that they would think that they had no reason to lie, though.
The topic eventually turned to that of money. Tylor could not help but stare down at the table following the cracks in the shining varnished wood, like he had done at Coppers when lost in thought. Rustin questioned about the need for the money. Tylor explained he and Joel needed to travel to the main land capital city to see his mother and that it was very important.
“I may as well add this to the list of favors old Zan owes me,” Rustin laughed heartily to himself.
Pulling a money pouch out from his back pocket, Rustin scattered the contents onto the table in front of him. Coins clattered and rolled out, each one a different shapes and color. Using his large index finger, he pulled the coins into two piles. One pile, the larger of the two, was placed back into his money pouch, which was then placed into his back pocket. The smaller pile was shoved slowly towards Tylor. As he reached towards it he could see an ecstatic grin appear on his young friends face.
“This is all we can spare, the rest is for the cart,” Rustin informed them. “Once Samilo is back to normal I’ll be talking to your dad, so make sure you let him know to have the money ready.”
Tylor exchanged glances with Joel and nodded slowly to the man. The truth about his father would have sounded too unbelievable (it still did, even to him) so he decided it was better that the villagers thought he was alive. Bringing out his own pouch, Tylor placed the coins into it. It was now quite full. Never before had he seen so much money. He was almost certain that now they would have enough for two tickets. All that remained now was to see the villagers off back to Samilo and then they could head to the docks to purchase passage on the next people carrier leaving port.
Joel yawned. After staying up so late the night before, getting up so early in the morning was taking its toll. He was happy now though, happy that the adventure was not over. The main land beckoned. Finally he could travel there with Tylor and see the sights. And now, he had a brother. If anyone asked, he could say his name was Joel Sabre. It was a nice feeling, comforting and warm, to know he was not alone. Even though he did not understand it, if what Tylor had said about Zan was true, then he is going through the loss of a parent as well. It was better that way, that they were brothers grieving together. At least grieving over Zan and not his own parents, those memories and that of the night of the storm were things he would rather forget.
It seemed as though Tylor was being deadly serious about what he dreamt and he certainly would not lie to him, meaning that when Tylor referred to danger on their travels, he probably meant if they ran into the person called Tai. They were both after revenge, even more so now that he had become a warrior of Samilo too. He was part of the Sabre family; he had to help avenge Zan’s death.
Turning around, Joel looked over to Tylor, who was talking with the group leaving for Samilo. Having already said his goodbyes, Joel had sat under the shade of roof covering to protect from the shower of rain which had started pouring down. Looking closely, he saw Tylor pass something into the hands of Rustin. It was passed into the hooded cart too quickly for him to get a close look at what it may have been. With that, Tylor shook the hand of Rustin and waved them off as the cart slowly pulled out. The clutter of horses’ hooves on the damp paving stones got progressively quieter as they vanished into the misty exterior of the town. The large rickety gates were then closed by cloaked militia after their departure. Tylor ran over to Joel and stood with him under the covering. Rain dripped from his soaked hair down the front of his nose then down his damp clothes. Shivering slightly, he told Joel that they were headed back to the inn to give the rain a chance to stop. It sounded like a good idea as neither of them was dressed for rain and it seemed to be getting heavier.
Joel followed behind as they found their way back to the inn. They only had the room until late afternoon, and then they would have to pay for another night if they wanted to still use it. Having only a couple of hours to go, they returned to the room to dry off and wash some of their spare clothes. Although he did not want to start acting like a kid, Joel was getting increasingly impatient. The excitement and anticipation of the new adventure was too much for him. Karen had made magic spheres sound like everyday things so if something as small as that had amazed him, then the main land had to be full of even more spectacular things.
“I can’t wait to see the main land, Tylor,” he said, smiling to his new brother. “It will be amazing.”
His brother turned and smiled back. Although Tylor must have had a lot on his mind he had to be looking forward to it as well. Grabbing his attention, Tylor told Joel to look out onto the balcony. Sitting up, he peered over the edge of his bed to see that the droplets of water dripping onto the stone balcony had almost come to a complete stop. It seemed that the rain had slowed to a gentle fall.
“Good timing, it’s almost midday anyway. Grab our stuff and let’s head to the docks,” Tylor instructed.
Groaning sarcastically, Joel rolled to a sitting up position and rose to his feet. The two readied themselves and then left the room.
Stopping at the base of the stairs, Tylor stood still from shock. At a single table in a lonely corner sat Karen, relaxing with a glass in front of her. Looking up, she noticed them both and waved them over to her table, with a small smile on her face. Walking over, Joel and Tylor took seats to the small table from others nearby, as the one she sat at was for one.
“So you’re still here. Town isn’t so busy today, the weathers got everyone hiding in bars,” she said.
She had not changed since they parted ways and spoke in her same tone. She wore the same armor as well and still had her dagger with her (which was placed directly in front of her on the table). Questioning what business they still had in Wrathe, Tylor explained that they were now planning on traveling to the capital on the main land. Karen coughed on her drink as he said it and began laughing.
“The main land, unguided? Are you mad?” she scoffed.
He was not sure what she was implying by asking in such a way. Was it to imply the main land was dangerous? She had mentioned wars and such before, but he did not see how that applied to them going to see his mother in the capital city.
“The main land isn’t as… happy a place as it is here. The communities aren’t out to help each other for the greater good. There is a… darker side to the world that this island has not been effected by. Look at it like this; this island is like a heavy stone stuck in a flowing stream. It never changes and is never altered by goings on around it. The main land is not so static, it is constantly changing and moving with the stream. It’s not all bad of course, but for inexperienced travelers like you it could be very dangerous.”
‘A heavy stone stuck in a flowing stream’, caught, never changing, never moving, Tylor thought to himself. If the main land really is darker than the island and constantly changing, why would my mother want to go there? Is Karen trying to help us or hinder us…I wonder.
She was making them sound like novices, which was probably an accurate description if Tylor was honest with himself. They were not sure whether her comparing the islands people to that of the main land was a fair analogy. It was true that the people of Samilo were all co-efficient, everyone helped one another. Was that idea laughable compared to how people did things on the main land? And what was the darker side that she spoke of? He had to trust her opinion; she knew more about the main land than them. The fact remained, however, that they were going and that they could not go back home.
“We will stick to following paths, no detours, straight to the capital, we have to,” Tylor stated.
Karen turned her nose up at him and sighed hopelessly. Tapping her finger on the table, she waited for a few seconds before talking again.
“Well then, if you insist, it will be less dangerous if I guide you to Tentra. It depends though, when is your boat scheduled?”
Shamelessly, Joel announced they had not been to the dock district yet to find out about boat times and mentioned the fact that they might not have enough money. Tylor looked at the floor, cheeks flushing a soft red. Karen sighed softly again. Resting back in her chair, she seemed in deep thought. Asking to see how much they had, Tylor slowly passed the money pouch to her and did not look at her face. Running a finger along the contents, she counted to herself mumbling numbers under her breath as she did it.
“This should be enough, but it would not leave enough left over for supplies. If you plan to travel you need sheets, backpacks, food and things like that,” she said, standing up and grabbing her knife in the process. “Listen, I got a good deal traveling here from the main land, the captain of a people carrier owes me a few favors. I’ll handle the tickets, use that for supplies.”
And with that she headed for the door. Passing the money pouch to Joel, Tylor told him to stay there while he quickly chased after Karen. She had made it out the door but remained under the covering by the time Tylor caught her. Calling to her, she stopped before venturing out into the drizzling rain, which did seem to be almost coming to a complete stop now.
“Karen, I appreciate your offer, but you don’t have to do this. Joel and I will make do with what we’ve got.”
A closed smile appeared on her face, it was sweet and warm and made Tylor feel more relaxed than before. He gulped hard. Despite the cold air, he doubted it was that which was once again turning his cheeks red.
“I owe you for guiding me back to Wrathe and I do not like owing people anything. This will repay my debt to you,” she paused, letting Tylor’s nervous smile subside. “By the way, it would be cheaper in the long run if you didn’t take the kid with you.”
Tylor shook his head. He had made a promise now so Joel had to go with him. A slow, but accepting, sigh was his reply from Karen. Before turning to leave, she asked for their full names. Apparently, tickets were marked on a list by name and then checked off against a number and name on the issued ticket. Stating that their names were Tylor and Joel Sabre, she seemed a little confused.
“You two are brothers? But I…”
She seemed to be overly confused by such a little thing as their second name. There was no need to tell her Joel was not really his brother and as a result it could make her a little more kind towards him as, so far, she seemed to ignore him. Tylor shrugged and restated their names. Nodding, she slowly turned and went out into the rain. Her image slowly disappeared into the murky distance.
Looking out from under the safety of the inn’s covering, Tylor peered up at the gray sky rain bouncing off his face and running down his front in the process. The rain seemed to be coming to a gentle stop again, but the sky remained a sad, pale, color. Wiping his face with a hand, he returned to the inn and sat with Joel.
“What now?” Joel questioned.
It seemed that the best thing for them to do would be to get some supplies and then get back to the inn to wait for Karen to return with the tickets. Putting faith in Karen to get tickets was a risky bet, but they had to accept the charity of others if it made the journey that little bit easier. Shopping would at least be a little easier with less people wandering the streets because of the weather, but that also meant no outside stalls would be open unless they had coverings. Forming a list in his head Tylor came up the basics they needed; a decent back pack, lamp, sheets and possibly some food and a water canteen.
“You stay here and wait for Karen to come back, I’ll go see if I can get us some supplies,” said Tylor, standing up once again.
Joel agreed and lay back in his chair, arms rested behind his head.
“Enjoy the weather out there,” he said with a grin.
Tai wandered back and forth within the confines of an old dirty warehouse. The floor was damp and dank from water seeping in from the thin sheet metal roof and no light source was visible. The only window was boarded up with randomly hammered two-by-fours. Close by the noise from the docks carried on, not stopping at day nor night. Steam powered machines clanked away, sailors shouted at the top of their lungs and crates behind shifted from boat to dock via crane setups banged and crashed. It did not matter. The thought of sleeping in a place like that disgusted him.
The orders made it impossible for him to enjoy himself with the torment of Wrathe’s people. Drawing attention to them that soon, even on an island that was part of the Atra Kingdom, would be too dangerous. They needed to be patient.
“Bah,” Tai said bitterly to the darkness.
Patience had never been his best virtue, but if he tried to do in Wrathe what he had done in Samilo it would cause too much commotion. It was impossible now anyway as he had only one Ouraset Jelosk. For now he had to remain hidden from the pathetic people that inhabited the Atra kingdom and exist only as a shadow until the time to strike came.
Quickly peering over his shoulder, Tai saw the warehouse door opening suddenly. Vanishing in an instant into flashing lines of thin energy, which subsided after seconds, Tai disappeared from the middle of the room. The door swung fully open as a large sailor standing in the doorway, wearing torn clothes, appeared.
“Whoever is in here show yourself now!” his gruff voice commanded. “I won’t tell your parents if you come out now, little brats.”
Tai was suddenly next to him, slowly and silently moving from the shadows to the left of the door. His left hand grasped the door handle, swinging it closed. His right reached forward, grabbing the sailor’s neck just as he turned to face him. Twisting the sailor’s head side-ways, a sickening cracking noise emitted from his throat. Releasing his vise-like grip from the dead sailor’s neck, he let the body crumble to the floor. The sailor’s dead eyes stared upwards.
“Pathetic insect,” Tai sneered.
Kicking his boot into the bodies’ side, the corpse flew into the air and into the far corner of the darkened room, twisting into a heap behind an old crate. It would probably not be found for a while; the warehouse seemed out of use for anything other than long term storage. The sailor must have heard him while passing by and thought some children had sneaked in. It did not matter now anyway; the next boat for the main land would be leaving soon, which was lucky, as having to stay in such a horrible setting was beginning to make him angry. Without the permission of his master, a killing spree to vent his anger was out of the question.
“Pity,” he said to himself with a sigh.
It took an hour for Tylor to find the basics he thought they would need for the trip to the main land; a leather brown back-pack (which had not cost much and would be perfect for Joel to carry on his back), some food and an oil lamp (which would provide some light at night, should they need to camp out again and was small enough to fit in either his satchel or the new back pack). The lamp had been quite expensive, apparently because of the fine material it was crafted from. Tylor did not have the time to search around or haggle, so the overpriced lamp had to do. Lastly, he bought two large, but thin, sheets. It was the best he could find and, if folded over, they would do as make shift sleeping bags. Food wise, he had picked a few apples and other fruits to carry with them, but could find no one selling water canteens. They would have to find one across the sea. He hoped the money he had left would be enough for one.
Joel was still alone when he returned to the inn and there was no sign of Karen yet. Sitting down with him, he passed the new back pack to his friend, filled with the lamp and sheets. Joel moaned playfully that he now had to carry something as well. Since Karen was not back yet it looked as though he did not need to hurry his shopping after all, but it was too late to think about that now.
“We’re getting closer now, Tylor. I can’t wait to see what its like,” Joel said, excited.
He had to admit it; he was also looking forward to it even more as well. Ignoring the apprehension caused by the dreams, the thought of seeing what was, in effect, a new world was fantastic. Doing that, traveling to the main land, meant he really was doing exactly as the voice had commanded; he was following what it seemed to think was his destiny. Predetermined future still did not sit well with Tylor, yet he felt compelled to go.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it too, it certainly beats the farming life, doesn’t it?” he joked to his friend, while smiling.
Laughing, Joel agreed.
It was a bit like escapism for them both, running away from the place of their problems, but that did not matter. If it made them both happy, it was the best thing to do. Or was it? Perhaps staying on the island and facing the destruction in Samilo was the best thing to do. The friends they left behind would be grateful for more help rebuilding.
I really need to stop questioning everything I do and just do it, Tylor thought.
Karen reappeared two hours later. She turned right at the doorway and sat down with them, in no particular hurry. Delving into a pouch strapped to her side, she threw two small lengths of card onto the table.
“Two tickets booked for the Sparda, leaving port in two hours. It’s a direct trip straight across the sea to Cattra,” she announced.
Mentally noting the name ‘Cattra’ as the port town across the sea, Tylor stretched forwards and took one of the small tickets. Written neatly along a line at the bottom right was his name. In the center was the ship name, dock number, its time of leaving port and another number which was most likely for reference. Joel reached for his and examined it. Thanking Karen for her kindness, she waved her hand at the gesture saying that the debt was now half repaid. Once they were in the capital it would be fully paid off. Joel looked at both of them in turn, confused.
“I see you got some supplies,” she said, looking to the full back pack Joel now supported on his lap. “If you have everything you need we should get going to the docks, they allow you on early before they set sail.”
It sounded like a good plan so they both agreed and left the inn with her.
Belongings accounted for; Joel followed Karen and Tylor as they headed through the damp streets of Wrathe, heading for the dock district. The rain had completely stopped which meant the streets had begun to get a little busier, even children were out playing once again and wandering around the shops with their mothers. Joel had been secretly wishing for the weather to clear up. Of course he wanted to go to the main land with his brother no matter what, but he was not looking forward to the trip on a boat in stormy conditions. His father had been a fisherman and he hated whenever he was dragged out early in the morning to get the prime time for the best fish. The rocking and swaying of the boat always got to him, it made his stomach turn. He did not have to put up with it for long though; he was usually physically sick after about an hour, which meant his father soon learned the fisherman way of life was not an acceptable avenue for Joel’s future. Yet now there stood before him a trip across quite a long distance of water, the trip would take around two nights from what he heard from Karen and bad weather would only make it worse.
I can’t tell Tylor, it’ll make me sound like a baby…again, Joel thought. He’d just tell me to forget about it and not go. I’ll just have to bare it. I do remember telling Tylor about my dad and him taking me fishing when I was younger, I hope he’s forgotten…
Perhaps now he was over it. The trips with his father out in the small family boat had been when he was quite young. He could only hope that was the case. He was determined that the sea sickness he suffered from would not stop his adventure.
The dock district loomed before the group, fenced off by bent and rusted copper fences with two town militia stood on either side of the only manmade gap. Looking down a side street, Tylor noticed a number of other entrances, formed by time and lack of care. He had not noticed them when he passed when originally looking for his father. That meant that no-one seemed to care who walked into or out of the district. Passing by the militia with no problems, Tylor scanned the area ahead.
The level of care and elegance shown in the commercial and housing districts did not extend to that area. Warehouses littered the field of view, filthy with rust and dirt with boarded up windows shielding the content from any chance of sun or rain. An abundance of large men carried around various containers, covered in oil and dirt. They certainly did not care how they looked to others. Clean dressed people seemed to move quickly through the area, out and in from the gate and passed the warehouses as quickly as possible. Karen pointed to some large metal objects in the distance to the east explaining that was where the Sparda was docked. She called it port three, but neither of the boys could see any signs indicating the direction or location of any dock number.
The actual locations where boats docked seemed to be better taken care of than the warehouse area of the district. This was to create a slightly better first impression of their humble back water island to strangers, most likely. Tylor had not been pleased with the way Karen made them sound and he was slightly worried about how they were perceived by people from the main land. Did tourists come to the island to stare at them or see how a quaint community did things? He shook his head. It could not be like that. The people they passed had to be people from the island going trips to the main land, not the other way round. It seemed, from the look of some of the ships, that the main usage of the docks was the import and export of stock rather than carrying travelers.
Walking along a stone path running along side the ocean they headed towards the location of the ship called Sparda. The blustery waters were only a few steps away from them, taking over immediately from where the cobbles ended. It looked quite dank and murky, swaying quite strongly from the breeze. It was beginning to look like the first leg of their sea journey would not be a calm relaxing one. They turned a corner, passing some newly placed crates, to come face to face with the ship.
The exterior of Sparda looked to be a mixture of fine wood finish and thin metal fittings. At the rear there seemed to be some sort of mechanical device which spread across the end of the boat. The boat itself was reasonably large; three rows of port holes lay spread across its side, then the main deck and on that the upper levels. It looked as though it would be able to hold quite a lot of people and was all a bit too extravagant for islanders. Turning to Karen, Tylor asked why such a big ship was doing runs from the island. She explained that it was a hybrid of sorts and also carried a large quantity of materials to and from Cattra. She also mentioned it was surprising how many people wanted to see Wrathe.
Wandering up to a long plank which reached to the ships main deck, Karen seized Tylor and Joel’s tickets, producing them all to a sailor with a large book sitting at the base of the gangway. Scratching off a part of the ticket and scribbling something unreadable into the book before him, the sailor moved aside, allowing them passage.
“Say goodbye to the island,” Karen said, waving her hand back to them while walking up the gangway.
Reaching the top of the plank, Tylor and Joel turned and rested their arms on the side of the ship and looked back at the town. They really were saying goodbye to Wrathe, Samilo and Old Man Copper’s. However, it was more than just a couple of small inhabited areas; they were the world that they had lived in for their whole lives and now they were leaving it to a strange new place.
“Good riddance,” Joel muttered under his breath, before turning away and looking around the ship.
Samantha Kon looked out to the dusty path leading out of Samilo where a group of people had appeared. Realizing that it was not Tylor and Joel returning with Zan, she had been curious to see who it was. As the group got closer she now saw that it was the group that had been sent to retrieve help from Wrathe. The group only seemed to have one more person added to it, which did not seem right. They were expecting a work force or something similar. Bodies were still unaccounted for and people were still resorting to camping out in the fields.
Rustin stopped when he saw her. Walking over to her, he produced a wrapped piece of crumpled paper (which he had stored in his back pocket). Turning and walking on with the group, they headed to the main encampment. The man from Wrathe who had joined the group had a shocked look on his face throughout. Chasing after the group, Samantha asked what the paper was.
“From Zan Sabre’s boy, we met him in Wrathe,” Rustin explained. “He asked me to give that letter to you as soon as we got back.”
Stopping on the spot, her heart missed a beat. Slowly, she opened the slightly torn paper to find a letter, penned by Tylor.
“Dear Samantha,
I have found out what happened to my father. He was killed in the storm while trying to get to Coppers to check up on him. I know how much my father meant to you and I saw how he looked at you with the same fondness. I hope this will not hurt you and that in time you will accept it and move on. I am trying to cope, much like Joel and the rest of our village is, with a loss.
Copper is unharmed, we stayed with him before continuing onto Wrathe. I plan to travel to the main land to find my mother in the capital city. I need to let her know what has happened to my father. Joel refuses to return to Samilo, he is too hurt by the memories forced on him if he sees the village.
I have let him travel with me and will care for him as a brother. I will not let anything happen to us, I promise. I will try to send you word whenever I can, but I am not sure how things work over there. Please do not worry about us; we have a guide to show us the way.
Thank you for being so friendly to me and my father, I remember how hurt he was when my mother left us, but you made him smile again. Please use my home for anything that is needed, be it shelter or firewood and give anything of use within its walls to those who need it. May you keep in good health, goodbye Samantha.
Tylor”
Samantha fell to the ground, crushing the letter in her hand, and cursed. She beat the damp grass with her fist and sobbed. Rustin ran over and grabbed her. Helping her to her feet slowly, he saw she was in tears. Taking the torn note from her feeble hand, he opened it up and read over it. Looking to the ground he mumbled Zan’s name and then both were silent.
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