Rayfire
If You're Reading This, You're In Their World.
If you are reading this, I thank you. If you were to comment and rate, I'd thank you even more. A banner is at the bottom of the page should you be kind ewnough to. =]. You're the public and I need your opinions, peeps! However, if you're going to say this is trash, you should ditch it, you're a loser, whatever - don't bother. I will just delete your comment and it would have been a waste of your own time.
I'm really sorry I can't get the story onto separate pages - it was suggested by Sasha in her review. I would, but the thing is I can't have any more pages and I don't want to delete any either. My bad, but take your time reading. =]. She also suggested changing the font as it looked kinda lazy as Times New Roman still, but Terminal looked wierd and naff and didn't work with the titles. So I hope that you like the font I've changed it to, Book Antiqua.
Anyway. I dedicate this work to Yr 6 of Culworth Primary School, 2007-2008, and Mr. Woodage, my Yr. 6 teacher. He was such a laugh and I'll miss him so much! He was so supportive and kind to me and I want to show him how much I appreciate it. As for the rest of you, you just ruled so much!! I can't believe we've all moved on so I've decided to dedicate this you guys too. You know who you are. =P. And most importantly of all, I dedicate this to my Grandma. You never had the chance to read it, but it's yours. You were always so brave and kind, the perfect rolemodel, and Dad says you would enjoy it. So enjoy. *Sniffs*
I added this in Febuary/March... so the updated chapters have been added July/August. There's no need for you to re-read the whole thing, just bear in mind that some little changes were added - for the best.
Please also note that there are now only fifteen chapters up. I did have twenty-three but I have become more worried about people copying my work despite the fact that around the site I have disabled right click, there are hackers/etc. out there. No offence to you guys, of course, I'm just being careful. I know it's annoying if you have read past chapter fifteen and now discovered it only goes up to chapter fifteen, but you can request the other chapters by email, just go to the Contact Me page. Please give me your name and URL, random I know, but I love visiting new sites. Don't forget to say what chapter you had read up to before I took it down and say why you should be trusted with my work. In your email you must type the following: I understand that this piece of work belongs to you and I promise not to copy, replace, use, publish, claim or fake your work. Just to show that you've been reading this bit. =] I'm sorry for the inconvenience and I'm sure you'll understand.
I hope you enjoy!
Dear Reader,
If ye can’t read this don’t blame me, blame my ancestors. Us Rayfires are more used to holding blades then quills. We’ve never been any good a domestic and practical stuff, like chores and reading and writing and all of that mumbo-jumbo, except my mother. She can write all neat and everything. I’ll get her to write a sentence or two at the end of this letter for you.
So, if Rayfires haven’t been any good at all the boring stuff, what have they been doing? Mucking about with blades, bows, javelins, pikes, and wrestling and learning self-defence, whatever. Not your thing? Then ye just stick to being your boring domestic self.
And what am I doing writing to ye? I’ll tell ye. For many moons I have stayed up well into the night, writing, collecting information and events… ye name it. What for? This. The account of my father, Troy Rayfire, and his life. His deeds, like when he slew – Hey! Ye can find that out when you read it. It took ages for me to relate everything he’s done in his life, I’ll tell ye that, and I assure ye I’m not going to tell ye if you can read it. Even so, I don’t think I’m quite cut out for the scholarly life.
I received all of the information off Father, Mother, Aunt Lily, Uncle Jo and my Father’s close friends, Bill and Will Swantree.
THIS IS TRUE, THE WHOLE THING. If I had let my imagination run riot nothing would make sense - it would be filled with unrealistic beings and fantasized words and the maddest things. So be glad. Mother helped me spell that by the way; fantasized. I never understand all those silent letters like K and H and W. Do ye? Or when you use Y instead of I but in some words ye use I instead of Y. My brain gets all muddled and fuddled when these weird changes crop up so don't confuse me with them or else...!
Just remember that all of the herbs, plants, whatever were named by my Father or Mother. So none of them are real. And if they are, then they both cheated. I could’ve thought them all up too, but then it would be more fun then it was. Why did they make them up? So you don’t get any ideas, cheekychops. If ye do that again I’ll land you a punch on your bonce so that a lump the size of a swan egg will sprout there, seemingly from your head.
Below my signature I’ll get mother to write ye a few sentences in her ultra-neat writing. And if anything else, REMEMBER THIS:
Don’t get any ideas from this account, kids. Ye won’t live to tell the tale.
Rose Mira Rayfire
Turn the page and the story shall unfold.
Prologue
The velvet cloak of the purple-black night sky was studded with diamonds and the pale, silver disc of the full moon. Far north of Zawihern, in a large clearing deep within the Forest of Tahlia, an event took place that seldom happened and when it did, there was only ever one reason. It was a good reason, though, for why else would such feasts be held? Tyrants, when they heard, which they always did, cowered with fear. None of them had laughed it off; none of them had smiled. All except Sophia Verity, but that is a different story.
And, on this early summer night, that event was about to occur.
In the clearing, a small campsite was set up. Tents were held up with wooden supports and pegged down, and the campfires were taken care of by several burly men throwing dry leaves and branches onto the ever-starving flames.
William Cantero Arnold Macorino Rayfire was unlike them. He was tending a fire, true, but he was preparing one of his special stews for his family in a simple iron pot over the fire. Little did he guess that such an event was to happen on such a normal night – with the laughing faces, the chatter of his comrades, the rustling of the trees...
Busying himself with the task of chopping up urthweed, moonwort and yewroot,
he didn’t notice his father, an elderly, frail man with a wispy goatee, hobbling as fast as he could over to him.
“William, my son! Ye are needed! The new babe is coming, my son, Mira cannot do this alone!”
“Add my herbs an’ then come to me!” William was up in a flash, forgetting that he hadn’t addressed his father with his full title, but did it matter? Fortunately, he didn’t seem unduly upset by this and followed his son’s instructions.
Racing over to the largest tent, William nimbly dodged a long line of men that were marching into the camp after a good hunt for firewood. The cart was over brimming and several short and stocky boys bent down constantly to carry the stray pieces that clacked to the earth. William fondly recalled such days when he was only a boy and had helped without complaint. He was fourteen at the time. He waved cheerily to the boys, but the urgency of his mission overcame him again. He darted around several women who were sewing up clothes or cooking stews, mostly tending their young ones, and rocketed headlong to the tent.
William swept aside the flap and raced over to his wife’s side and clutched her hand in reassurance and smiled down at her. “Our first child, eh?”
Mira Cicely Rayfire smiled back at his kindly face. “Girl or boy?”
“Ye’re bettin’?”
“Why not?” There was a hint of challenge in her smile. William treated her to a wolfish grin.
“Girl.”
“Boy.”
“What’re we going t’bet? Ye’ve always had a wild mind.” Asked William, cocking his head.
“The person who guesses right can name the babe.” Mira concluded, holding out her free hand.
“Done.” The couple shook hands.
After a few minutes of a thoughtful silence from both Rayfires, Mira had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out and William instantly knew what the problem was – the babe was coming.
A doctor hurried over and as soon as the writhing, purple-red bawling figure was in the arms of the doctor it was immediately tended to.
“Well, that’ll stop ‘em from kickin’ at my stomach all the time,” Laughed Mira, patting her abdomen and wincing soon afterwards.
“Ye did well.” Said William, pecking her on the lips once she’d propped herself on some pillows.
“It’s a boy!”
Timothy, the head doctor, had taken the babe over to his colleagues. The new babe wailed in fright and flailed madly, howling with its’ teaspoon-sized lungs as loud as he could. A doctor, Vanessa, fetched some fresh linen from the supplies and swathed the babe in it, making sure he was warm yet not too hot.
“I win.” Said Mira, taking the babe off Vanessa. She soothed the wailing babe and cooed softly at it. She tickled his stomach, announcing to all in the tent, “Could ye fetch some mossleaf yoghurt for the lad, Timothy? Make sure it’s rather thin. William, can ye warm up some goat’s milk on the fire? The lil’ lad must be hungry. I don’t want t’be disturbed by anyone apart from family. Mattalin, could ye come in here once an hour to check on the babe? Ye may leave - dismissed.”
“Marm -”
“How many times have I asked ye not t’marm me, Timothy?” Sighed Mira.
Timothy took up the threads of his explanation again faultlessly. He was a short man with fair close-cropped hair and pale green eyes.
“May I just point out that the lad is a tough ‘un? He’s all fit and healthy, no probs whatsoever with the little rascal.” Timothy informed Mira.
Without waiting for an answer he left the tent to fulfil Mira’s wishes.
Mira couldn’t stay irritated for long at Timothy’s persistence to call her marm; she had just had her first-born! A boy - a little lad. What to name him though? He needed a good, simple name…
When everyone had left to do her bidding, Mira looked down at William, who was heating some goat’s milk in yet another iron pot, over a small pit in the ground with held a small blaze, which he was kindling with some dry driftwood.
“Ye lads these days! I’ve just had a lil’ tyke an’ I feel as if Satan is stabbin’ me with his trident, let me tell ye, and what are ye doing? Kindlin’ a fire. That’s all ye men do these days, isn’t it?” Mira rolled her eyes and chewed thoughtfully at the inside of her cheek, still puzzling over a name for the babe.
William smiled.
It was then the cheers started outside. There was the sound of sobbing, applause and wolf-whistles. People danced, singing, and stamped their feet down on the floor with pure joy as they jumped and bounded and leaped. All this could be heard from inside the tent as the couple exchanged a knowing look as orders for a feast were yelled.
Mira sighed, returning her attention to the babe. “What should I name the lad, Will? Any suggestions?”
William shrugged and rummaged in their supply packs for a bottle. “If he was a girl I’d name him Lily. His eyes could be the stalk, and his pale skin the flower. Maybe if we have a girl we could call her Lily… I like that name.”
“Aye, Lily is a lovely name for a girl… I’ll keep that in mind.” Mira examined the babe carefully, determined to select the perfect name. “Jus’ by lookin’ at this lad I can tell he’s goin’ t’be strong, quite handsome too…” Mira trailed off. “Wait. Is that battle fire?”
William was up in a flash. “Battle fire? I know he’s a Rayfire, but ‘tis so early…”
Both parents gazed intently at the faint flames flickering behind the babe’s startling green irises.
William wolf-whistled softly. “Cor, he’s goin’ t’be fiercer then a pack of wolves when he grows.”
“Then he’ll need a strong name, Will.”
William nodded in agreement, and then returned to his milk, leaving Mira pondering over a selection of names for the babe, muttering to herself.
“Lemme think… hmm, a good, strong name…”
William retrieved a clean, clay bottle that was cylindrical at the bottom, and then somehow formed a small hole in the top, melding upwards elegantly. Removing the clay ring that held lid to bottle, he transferred the liquid with care. Handing it to Mira, who accepted it, he watched as she gently supported the babe against herself and softly eased the bottle into his mouth. He latched on and sucked hard, not stopping for breath until he finished the drink. Mira removed the bottle and threw it over to William, who caught it deftly and shoved it in their packs.
“Troy.” Mira said abruptly, stroking his cheek.
“What?”
“Troy. He’s Troy. Troy Rayfire. No middle name, jus’ Troy.”
William’s father entered the tent, holding the iron pot that contained William’s stew, disturbing the atmosphere.
“I’ll fetch the others, William, and your stew is ready. Maybe ye could heat it up on the fire?” He suggested, and he smiled at the babe, then at Mira. “Well done.”
He disappeared from the tent.
William sighed. “Heat it up on the fire. That’s all I do these days, thanks t’the cruel whim of my gem for a wife.” William grinned at Mira, and began heating up the stew, swerving the subject to the babe once more. “Troy. After your father?”
Mira nodded. “Looks just like him, Will. ‘Xactly like him. ‘Twas said he was no different to this ‘un when he was born.”
A few minutes passed in an awkward silence, but thankfully it was broken when Timothy returned, carrying a clay bowl and a tiny clay spoon.
“Here ye are, marm.”
He dodged nimbly as Mira swatted at him with a hand, but soon sighed and muttered, “I s’spose I’ll have t’live with ye marmin’ me…” Mira took the bowl. “Thank ye.” She nodded and gently eased the spoon into Troy’s mouth. Troy sucked on it for a while, and while Mira waited for the reaction, Erin entered suddenly, sweeping aside the tent flap with one of her long-nailed hands. She squealed with delight as she saw the babe and scooped him up without asking for permission. Mira almost flicked the spoon in her face with annoyance, but she resisted the temptation. Instead she muttered dryly, “No need t’go mad. The little lad’s proba’ly scared out of his skin. Ye really are so thoughtless, Erin.” Mira glanced up at her eldest sister. “I’m surprised ye haven’t managed to pinch him with those nails of yours.”
“So this little lad is my nephew.” Erin stated, ignoring Mira’s comments. This was probably a good thing to witness; if Erin had listened, Mira would be covered in scratches from her reaction. Erin wasn’t one to be crossed, even by Mira.
Erin stroked Troy’s head and returned him to Mira.
She resumed feeding Troy seeing as he enjoyed the food. “Odd flavour, mossleaf yoghurt, yet Troy likes it. Do ye suppose Joel, lil’ Joel, will be comin’ t’see Troy?”
“Ooh! Troy! What a cute name! After Father?” Erin’s hands cupped her face with surprise. Mira cursed inwardly and didn’t reply as Erin continued. “Poor little Jo gets so lonely these days. I’m sure he’ll enjoy his company.”
“Aye, he’s a good nephew of ours, Jo is. Maybe he’s a tad young at the moment to inherit a blade, but he’ll get his mother’s ol’ sword, Freefoe.”
Erin nodded in agreement and left the tent.
“I’m glad that prissy fusspot’s gone. My sister ain’t much help.” Mira sighed.
William finished stirring the stew; he began pouring the meal into sturdy wooden bowls and added some dry twigs to feed the flame. The brawny man stood up.
“Can I hold my lil’ lad?” He asked, scooping Troy from the haven Mira’s arms before she could reply.
“Aye. It’s about time ye did. Here’s your son, Will.”
“Yowch! This lil’ lad can punch!”
“D’ye want t’feed him?” Mira offered the contents of the bowl to William, oblivious to his complaints.
“Love to.” Taking the bowl and leaving the spoon in Troy’s mouth, William went over to his bedroll and sat on it, stirring the yoghurt absentmindedly.
William gazed at the faint, flickering flames.
“Ye’ll be a warrior someday, Troy Rayfire. Ye’ll hold a blade, fight the fight, never back down, slay cowards an’ Tyrants an’ foes. With all of your ancestors guidin’ ye, an’ your battle fire, wrath in battle.
“Son, ye are a true Rayfire!”
18 years have passed…
1: Troy
My eyes darted around the musty room, taking in my surroundings. I was lying on my stomach, on something like mud – squishy yet firm.
But I knew it wasn’t mud as soon as I’d managed to stop my surroundings from swimming in front of my eyes: It was blood.
Not very environmental, is it? Leaving blood splayed around you when you feel so numb you can’t move, or even stand up.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness soon enough and the moonlight shone on my pale face. My eyes were piercing green, but in the moonlight they looked almost white, and my untameable fiery-chestnut hair stuck up all over the place and so my shadow looked bizarre.
I shuddered uncontrollably, trying to stop that terrible pain entering my head. The pain that makes you wish you were already dead. The pain that tortures you until you die. The pain that makes you wilder and wilder. The pain that won’t stop until it has you.
The pain set on you and that refuses to go.
With each breath, each heartbeat and each thought that passed my head hurt more then the first. Which is surprising because thoughts don’t hurt unless they’re hurtful, when mine weren’t. How are thoughts hurtful when you’re wondering whether you were going to die? That just made them dead worrying. Certainly not painful, let alone hurtful.
Hello? I was going to die here, in this ruddy hut, lying on half-dried blood, all alone, because someone wants to kill me. Whoever ‘someone’ was.
I felt sorry for myself. What a ruddy way to die. How ironic! Just my luck. I’d much rather die in battle or going down fighting then ruddy well waiting.
And that’s when I gave up.
I usually had a tendency not to stop, to just keep on going until I managed to get out of my sticky little situation, out of my little prison (which I prayed would be somewhere other then this little hellhole), because I pretty much never, ever give up. It’s one of those things I’ve learnt whilst dealing with my sixth sense for trouble: Don’t give up. But nothing could stop The Pain… nothing.
So! It’s now capitalized as The Pain. They should shove that in the dictionary.
I began to let The Pain take over me, just let it eat me up, knowing I couldn’t stop it.
Is this what I feels like to die? I wondered. Shut up alone on firm blood, freezing cold, hardly breathing, dreading your next breath in case it’s your last…?
But this thought just made the pain worse; it gnawed at my insides, eating me, biting me, slaying me.
I screwed shut my eyes, my teeth grinding together – it was something to do, at least – as I waited. So I waited. And then I waited some more.
I waited…
Waiting.
Waiting for my last breath. Waiting for my last heartbeat. Waiting. Ruddy well waiting.
The door creaked open and the air suddenly felt icy cold and as hard as ice.
Was this how the devil greeted you?
I opened my eyes a fraction.
This was no devil.
It wasn’t a little monster with little red horns on his head, holding a gold tyrant, dressed in black, cackling it’s puny stupid head off. No way. It would be like saying that it was raining cats and dogs if it was raining flipping vampire bats.
It was far from it - very far from it.
It was a spirit, a deep burnt-umber, with depthless black eyes that seemed to sink onwards into nothingness. Its huge body seemed to hover in the air and have a #1 rule that it couldn’t stay still. It swayed and swirled all over the place and my eyes hurt just trying to follow it.
“Ye belong to me…” It hissed, making its body sway in front of me; I knew this even though my eyes were shut. I could feel the air thrumming before me.
“Ye belong to me…”
I yelped in pain as the pain moved from my stomach onto my lungs.
“Help me…” It pleaded. “HELP ME…”
By now I began to fight against the pain, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, my face as the white-hot pain moved onto my heart, separating, going for my brain too.
“Ye belong to me…”
Did he have to drone on and on? I mean – did he have eyes?! Per-lease! Here I was, dying, and all he can proclaim is a load of trash!
A yowl of total and complete agony erupted forth from my mouth.
And there and then I drew my last breath, felt my last heartbeat, and thought my last thought, all alone, lying on half-dried blood, freezing cold in a ruddy hut. But at least I wasn’t waiting.
God, if you’re up there, help me before I -
C- c-c-r-r-r-r-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-c-c-c-k-k-k-k-k!
I bolted upright, panting hard at the sound of lightning. Rain came in heavy torrents as it was pushed unmercifully from the deep grey clouds that had rolled in from nowhere. The whole world resounded with another crack of lightning. I glanced out the window and saw a large, jagged trident of it poke the earth with its uneven prongs. What did it mean? It was still dark outside but the darkness couldn’t lure me to sleep - not tonight. It whipped around my face, angry and severe. I flopped back down onto my pile of fresh straw, thinking hard. If Father knew about this he sure hadn’t told me.
Honestly, Troy. I told myself. It was a dream. You’ve had plenty of those, yeah? Plenty. Remember that one when you dreamt that you were trying to eat that outsized seedcake…?
But somehow no matter how much I told myself it was a dream, my head was bursting with questions. What was that big burnt umber spirit thing craving me for? I was an eighteen-year-old guy with green eyes, impossible hair, and I was too tall. Plus I happened to have the luck to be possessed of battle fire. I think you can figure already my luck isn’t amazing. If anything, it managed to come back and sink its fangs into my backside whenever words came out of my mouth. At least, it usually did.
I shook my head in disbelief. What was I playing at? I had a dream. A dream - that was it. A simple dream, when my brain decides to play a few tricks on me.
Then outside I heard voices. My father’s and a stranger’s. I sat slowly upright again and strained my ears to catch the conversation.
“Look, Antonio, d’ye think I’m happy that my wife gave birth to a son who is meant t’be a soldier for Axsarenz’s army?” My father asked the stranger, (who seemed to be named Antonio), and then continued. “I love Troy with all my life, but how could I tell him he was a…one of them, one of their kind? And what makes it worse, is that Axsarenz will send for him in a dream t’night, telling him what he is, what power he has, and…”
A mother?
Oh aye – I remember now… Lilia. Lilia Vawren…
“Ye must calm, William.” Advised Antonio. “Troy may wish to join them, their obsession of good to free the Empire. Ye can’t worry; if Troy does join them it is nothing to be ashamed of. It is his choice, and if he says no, he won’t get another chance. All ye can do is tell Troy the truth ye’ve been hiding from him for eighteen years. Or, wait until Troy brings up the subject of the odd dream he had last night. Wait, William. If ye want Troy to not understand and get caught up in magic, evil, and so on, leading him to his fate, ye must tell him. He can get in, but once he’s in their grasp he cannot pull out again. If he tries to pull out of it, well, he’ll never be asked again and I for one know he won’t refuse. Axsarenz is not someone you should anger, or mess with.
“Remember, William; he is a Rayfire, ye are a Rayfire, and Lily is a Rayfire. He is nearing the time when he will journey away and take his place as a Rayfire on W.I.”
Axsarenz? What are they talking about? And what does W.I. stand for? Wild Idol?
Silence.
“If ye loved Troy with all your life, ye’d let him choose.” Antonio pressed. “Tell him everything I have told ye, but he must decide quickly, however, for when he drifts off to sleep this evening, he will want an answer.”
I shuddered at his words. It was as if he’d told me I’d drift off into an eternal rest just by his tone of voice. I continued to listen.
“Antonio.” Father trailed off. “What if he joins hem?”
“He will be protecting ye and your family.” Antonio stated simply.
“My son… a…soldier for Axsarenz…” I sensed Father shaking his head. “Lily, can ye imagine Lily’s reaction? But he can’t refuse.”
A pang of guilt panged (how appropriate!) in my chest.
“Sorry, William, but it’s his choice. And I’m sure ye remember when ye went roaming, and ye cannot deprive Troy of such desires.” Comforted Antonio.
The front door opened and I heard Father talking to himself. “…What to do - What to do! I was young once. Let him go, Will, he’s right, he can’t stay here for long…”
I steadied my breathing and flopped down quickly onto my back as my bedroom door creaked open. This was followed by a shuffle shuffle, but then I felt a weight at the end of my bed. Father was sitting at the end of it, and, even though my eyes were closed, I knew he was watching me.
“G’night, Rayfire.”
He never says goodnight to me. We just have a quick sort of wrestle and I go to sleep.
He stayed there for about two minutes, anxiously waiting, as if I’d leap up and give him a big hug. He then shuffled out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling, which was bare, murky, and caked in grease. My brain was in a state of turmoil.
Reject and miss the chance and stay in this dull place forever? Or join their good ways and actually do something?
Choices, choices.
I couldn’t help agreeing with Father. I had always felt oddly out of place at Zawihern. Sometimes I’d just sit on the wall tops and gaze at the grassy knolls, the majestic mountains. It took a lot of willpower to stop myself from leaving right that minute.
You know he’s right. You can’t stay here forever!
And there in my dusty room on my pile of not-exactly-fresh straw, I had my answer. Was it the right decision? Or was it all wrong? But then I remembered Antonio’s words:
“It is his choice, and if he says no, he won’t get another chance…”
Not good.
Now, er…right, Lily’s reaction or a tidy journey to God knows where?
Not easy, eh?
I’d rather Lily’s reaction happened.
WAIT!
“He is nearing the time when he will journey away and take his place as a Rayfire on W.I.…”
Antonio’s words rang through my head once more. I sized up both situations, as the rain slammed onto the roof and the wind began keening, looking to the ceiling for inspiration. Well, actually, that was just because I didn’t know where else to look.
OK, I’ve made my mind up.
Sorted.
Or is it…?
Honestly, Troy, look on the bright side…
Bet it’s sunny.
Think, think… Now’s not the time to be stupid…
So…if I wanted to I could waltz off to W.I., I’d have to join in with this Axsarenz, follow the faiths and beliefs he followed, la-di-dah-di-dah.
A sacrifice to make. At least, it sounds heroic that way. But it’s not what I’d call a sacrifice, because… well, I wanted to go. I needed to go, because the farmer’s life isn’t right for me. It never was. It never can be.
Was I sure about this? How would I know if the spirit wasn’t lying?
Right, my plan is simple – and very roughly thought and therefore guaranteed to go downhill:
I would wait for the spirit to reply, and then ask it my questions. If he didn’t answer them, I would reject his offer. That should work. Well, I wasn’t going to skip off if I didn’t know what I was getting into. He could be some freaky axe-murderer for all I knew. Once I knew enough, I’d, well, go and say bye-bye to my farming life and set off to meet him.
It was my only choice. And it was my only desire.
2: Lily
“Yowch!”
I dropped my needle and sucked my now pricked and bleeding finger. Cursing, I hunted for the needle and threaded it once more, before I continued sewing a rough pillowcase for Father. I glanced over at
What made him attract the girls in Zawihern so much? His eyes? The way his hair was a sort of mess, though a divine one? That’s one of his best features – according to Elaine and the rest, anyway.
I watched his tall, brawny frame working away. According to
Now that’s hell… he’s always being offered free stuff from their stalls. Raffia tries to press him with stuff from the blacksmiths; Elaine from the bakery, stuff that her aunt’s cooked. The total airhead thinks that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Sadly her treats end up anywhere but
And then all the girls nod so hard I’m surprised their heads don’t fall off. So it’s really rather sneaky because he knows they’ll always agree with him.
OK, OK I have to admit he’s quite good-looking but he doesn’t really care. Once he went to help Father in Zawihern after we’d had a play-fight and he entered mud-splattered with a big muddy stripe on his cheek and all the girls whispered and giggled and pointed. His pride and glory – joke! – his hair was in an even worse state then before, if that was possible. I happened to overhear Elaine and Raffia, who seem to host a Troy Fan Club. They never leave him alone. Their only subject they ever talk about is
“Oh, look!! Doesn’t he look really brave with all that mud over him? I’d hate it! And oh! His hair! It’s so messy! ” Giggled Elaine.
Shut your trap or I’ll do it for you, I thought in frustration, unclenching and clenching my muddy hands. I continued to listen from behind their unsuspecting backs.
And Raffia said a load of junk about him that I think even Troy would’ve invented a wild excuse so that he had to go in the middle of – which is surprising seeing as Troy respects what other people say whether it’s a load of trash because Troy’s just one of those nice people even if afterwards he can’t hold back his laughter.
And in fact, here’s what she squealed, just so you get the idea…
“Ooh! I hate mud, it’s all horrible and slushy and wet and…eew! And he just came in all muddy and he doesn’t even care! He’s looking this way; he’s actually looking this way! Oh my God, my hair’s such a mess, oh my God, he smiled at me! Oh my God, oh my god! His undershirt is so muddy! Eeew, look at that stripe on his cheek, oh eeew eeeeww! He’s so brave! Oh my God, where’s my comb, where’s my comb?! My hair’s gone all frizzy; he’ll see me soon! Once I’ve combed my hair we’ll go and see him, shall we, Eli?”
Maybe if you didn’t say ‘oh my God’ all the time, and you didn’t speak so fast, then maybe I could actually understand you. And he was smiling at me, you dolts. Nincompoops!
“He’s a boy, y’know.” I said from behind them seeing as I couldn’t stand it any longer. They wheeled around and looked up at me, surveying me warily.
“Why’re ye so mucky?” Asked Raffia.
“Aye, isn’t that boyish?” Said Elaine, catching on with the theme of the hour.
“I’m mucky ‘cause I’ve been play-fightin’.” I’d said casually, shrugging, grinning inwardly as they took the bait and flinched at the way I missed most off my letters.
“With
The only way to get their attention is to rub it in their face that you’ve done a whole heap of boyish things with your brother.
“Who d’ye think?” I scoffed.
“Oh, Lily, how come your brother is so good looking?” Asked Raffia dreamily, gazing up at me.
“Good lookin’? Ye ask him that question an’ ye’ll find yourself with a lump on your noggin! I don’t know, do I? If ye could just shut your trap about
Now to suss out why the question was asked so frequently…
His eyes are just amazing. They’re green. But not just any green.
Sometime soon, I’m going to tell him they all have a crush on him. ‘Cause I think he ignores them all.
And do you know what? I don’t think you could do anything else with the prissy fusspots.
Sewing’s dull inside. I’ll sew outside instead. Then I can continue to wonder and dream all day.
3:
Father accidentally burnt the porridge this morning.
“Sorry.” He apologised to Lily and me before pouring some into our clay bowls.
While Lily was sewing Father a pillowcase, we went outside into the fields to weed them.
He took a deep breath (deep breath number one) as if to prepare himself, before he addressed me. “
Deep breath number three…
“Ye are not an ordinary farm boy I told ye that ye are. Well, I didn’t exactly tell ye that. Ye are a Rayfire, an’ therefore a prepared soldier.”
Deep breath number four…
“I know.” I replied simply.
“Ye do?” Asked Father, taken aback at my sudden knowledge (most likely because I can barely read).
“I overheard ye last night. You were talkin’ t’ that stranger…Antonio was his name. But who is he?”
“An old friend of mine.” Answered Father.
“Why was he here last night, though?”
“That I don’t know. He’ll come at random intervals.” Explained Father, dumping a loosened weed into the wicker basket next to him.
“Right.” I tugged at a weed and I felt it loosen slightly from the earth. God, this weed was a toughie…
I tugged harder and the stubborn thing flew out of the earth, but in the process sprayed me with clumps of mud that settled into my hair and my tunic and undershirt. Father grinned at me and chuckled slightly, not at me but with me. I was laughing too.
I bent down and pushed my hair forward, and a few clumps of mud loosened and fell out. I flicked the weed in the wicker basket next to me, before I sighted another weed and began to yank it out, and my laughter faded. Phew, this one wasn’t that deep…
Still focusing on weeding but no longer laughing, Father asked me, “I have one question. Will I be granted the permission t’ask it?”
“Since when have ye asked t’have the permission t’ask questions?”
He ignored my statement and shrugged.
“Will ye join Axsarenz?”
I stopped weeding and looked at him, hard. He had to understand.
“Aye. I shall,” I said slowly, yet quietly. “I have my destiny to follow, an’ I’m sure it ain’t here… The farmer’s life was never really for me. I enjoy it, but how can it be? Ye said it yourself; I’m a Rayfire. Ever since I was lil’ more then a toddler I would always wonder what lay beyond these knolls, past the walls of Zawihern. Now I want t’find out.
“Didn’t ye ever have that feelin’? Like ye weren’t s’sposed t’ be where ye are? Like ye jus’ want t’leave, an’ jus’ roam an’ roam an’ roam? Not only do I want t’go, but also I need t’go. Livin’ here is gettin’ duller an’ duller an’ duller with each fresh dawn, an’… well, I’m getting’ restless. An’…”
I trailed off and turned my back to Father. It was obvious he knew how upset and fraught I was getting. I could even feel slight traces of battle fire overcome me, but I squashed them flat. How would it help, or make matters better?
“Ye sound so sure? Are ye sure?” Father’s tone of voice did little to improve my mood. Shutting my eyes and trying to calm down, I slowed my breathing. But it was hard. I didn’t turn around, but let a little rage overcome me at that.
“I don’t know about ye,” I said, my voice growing louder, “but I’d rather do somethin’ with my life. Half my life I’ve jus’…lived here. I don’t imagine myself growin’ old and dyin’ peacefully. Rayfire’s never have. Rayfires never will. I’m sorry. I really am. But…I need to go roamin’, I was thinking of leavin’ soon, anyway.” I fingered Rayfire, my sabre. It’s pommel stone and cross hilt were fashioned from moonstone, and the handle was bound with leather, the colour of a raven’s wing. As for the blade, it was made of pure Rayfire crystal, an unbreakable rock that reflected the Rays of Fire. However, it looked like steel, just like steel. The hilt had been held from the first Rayfire and had gone all the way down the line, and now it was my turn.
Scuffing the ground with my foot, I stemmed all traces of battle fire and opened my eyes, turning towards Father.
“I agree.” Replied Father hastily, nodding his head slowly and glancing nervously at Lily, who was sewing beneath a rough awning to offer some shade. “Now, when will ye be preparin’ t’leave?”
“T’morrow.” My voice left him with no doubt that I wasn’t going to change my mind now it was set – like concrete. Unsure and changeable at first, solid and set at the end.
Father’s gaze lowered, and he started to focus on weeding again.
“Father, I’m sorry,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ye understand, don’t ye?”
Silence. Then, “I do,
4: Lily
In, out, in, out, in, out…
I was singing my weaving song in my head, sewing in time to the imaginary beat.
In, out, in, out…
I tapped my foot to the rhythm, humming it now.
And…turn the needle to the left, round the corner and…in, out, in…
I was now muttering it to myself, dreaming that Sophia the Eel Queen (the name given to her by
Dreaming’s great.
Hello, Lily? You’re fifteen and here you are, dreaming about being a queen. Honestly…
And could you ever picture Father being a king, let alone
Well, I don’t want to be queen, exactly (whoa – no, that’d be weird), but dreaming of being queen is more fun. You can imagine all of the meals and drinks you could have and order beatings for Raffia and Elaine. It’s much more entertaining then actually being one.
In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out…
I breathed in the earthy scent around me, tying a knot at the end of my thread and threading my needle again.
Pausing my sewing for a moment, I decided to go inside and fetch a seedcake as a snack before lunch as my stomach was sending signals that it needed food and I hated distractions when I was working.
Placing my needle and work carefully on the bench, I strolled inside, hunting for a seedcake. I raided cupboards, hunted in draws and after several minutes of fruitless searching a grim thought occurred to me:
Shame…
Instead, I took a blueberry fritter with me and some cordial, returning to my sewing.
I glanced up and saw a glimpse of
But there was something wrong, because
Unless something was wrong.
Because flames, faint flames, were dancing instead.
~~*~~
A few hours later I dashed through Zawihern’s south gate. I was late for my job, and if you’re late when there’s a person like Harriet (I name her the Mad Hatter – rather fitting, don’t you think?) to face it isn’t enjoyable. I raced inside the bustling town and looked around for Raffia and Elaine. There was no sign of them. Sighing in relief, I dodged over to the weavers with an array of insults in return as I squeezed through several slim gaps and pushed my way over to the store. I was very nearly there when the most blood-chilling thing occurred.
Gavin entered the town, riding his onyx horse.
Gavin is Sophia’s twin brother; he’s older by a few minutes. They hate each other. They both want the throne. And Gavin tries using force. He comes into towns and cities and takes soldiers to join his army, willing or not. It’s that or death.
By now the bustle had stopped.
He swung off his horse, watching as it was tethered to a small post. A ring formed around the Tyrant. No one dared make a noise.
“Are there any willin’ men here, ready for battle?”
No one moved. Nothing stirred. But my nose began to prickle and I sneezed. That’s when he caught sight of me.
“Bless ye.” Gavin’s manners were on show as he eyed me up and down. “Why, what a young lady ye are.” His voice was now sickly sweet, almost mocking. “And would ye dare come and join me? Why, ye look ferocious enough.”
Before he could say anything more
“Ye can leave her alone.”
His voice was as hard and as cold as ice. He moved out of the crowd into the ring.
Gavin eyed him up and down. “Well! What a find! Ye could do well in my army. Per-lenty of loot for ye! What d’ye say?”
I tried to move forward, though a plump, floury lady gently took my wrist and pulled me back. “Leave him, love. Your brother needs no help an’ will take that windbag down a peg or two. Just watch.”
She gave me a smile. I managed a wan one in return, freeing my wrist.
And so I watched.
“No.”
Gavin stared. “What?!”
Raffia and Elaine were nearby, on the right of
“I said no, Tyrant. Which part of ‘no’ don’t ye understand – the ‘N’ or the ‘O’?”
Gavin took a deep breath. “What would ye want if I were to have the girl?” Gavin gestured at me with a hand.
“Nothin’, ‘cause ye ain’t havin’ her.”
“Don’t I get a chance to show myself?”
“Your deathbed is waitin’, Rayfire! Ye have defied me!” Snarled Gavin, unsheathing his weapon and lunging at
“Ye made a mistake, Gavin. I’m not defenceless, like those many ye’ve slain! An’ I’m goin’ t’ give ye a taste of how they felt!”
“Oof!”
“Cor! Gavin is a fool, hmm, dearie? Rayfire has him right where he wants him.” Muttered the plump, floury lady to no one in particular.
Coughing and spluttering, Gavin came round.
I stepped into the circle. I didn’t even know what I was doing; I just felt so pointless standing there.
“Why, my young lady, do ye accept?” Gavin was treating this all as a joke as he painfully hauled himself to his feet. How humiliating – his blade snapped in front of his face, and then suddenly being looked like a fool by being held down so easily and rendered senseless.
“The answer is no different to that of my brother!” I growled.
“Trickin’ girls in t’ fullfillin’ your biddin’, Gavin? How hopeless.”
Gavin seized
“Someday I’ll kill ye!” He spat at
I was surprised that
“Ye haven’t seen the last of this!” Warned Gavin, but
“Someday I’ll slay ye, boy! Aye, I’ll string your carcass on my fortress gates!” Roared Gavin.
“Fortress?”
“Aye. A fortress! I’ll have your guts for garters, an’ I’ll roast ye on a spit over a fire an’ then -!”
“If ye’re so eager, Tyrant, why not slay me here an’ now?”
Gavin looked at
“Why am I any different? Ye’ve slain ones older’n’me, younger’n’me – why am I so special? Or is it that, when faced with someone who isn’t defenceless, ye let your true colours shine through?”
Gavin finally managed to find his voice – which was trembling. “M-m-my Seer s-saw i-it…”
Gavin desperately tried to swerve the conversation. “I – I’ll -!”
In a trice
Jarrows.
“Ye can make threats for a century, Tyrant, but ye won’t raise a single finger against me.”
Gavin looked angry, and was angry (as well as fearful) but managed to stamp down his rage. And also ask a particularly stupid thing.
“I’ll trade that with ye.” Said Gavin, pointing at
The jarrow whizzed off the string and skimmed across Gavin’s head. The bow gave an almighty twang.
“I don’t do deals with Tyrants, ‘specially with my weapons.” He snarled, eyeing down the newly notched shaft. He removed the shaft from his bow. “Cowardice, Gavin. That’s what ye’re made of! Never known the truth, or honour. Ye’ll lie an’ cheat an’ slay t’get your way!”
Gavin had the sense – for once – not to reply.
“Ye know, I swear, Tyrant, that if ye were t’have the Empire, ye’d be even worse then your sister. Sophia is a full-blown cow, but ye disgust me! Ye come ridin’ int’ town on your horse an’ demand for people t’come scurryin’ forward so they can lick the ground at your feet. Sophia has done wrongs… beheadin’s, deaths. But ye have fallen even lower! Ye offer a man a livin’ death!”
“No,
My cry was lost to him as he cut into the back of his right hand with Rayfire. Four swift strokes… but what he had done had a huge significance. The crowd gave a large gasp in unison. I just stared.
“So I don’t forget ye, Tyrant!”
“Ye have defied me more’n’ once, boy!” Gavin’s reply was cut short as a whimper of fear of fear escaped from his lips.
He turned and began to leave. I was about to shout out a warning when
Then he left, and the ring parted as Troy Rayfire strode through the gates of Zawihern, shaking with rage, unclenching and clenching his fists. The awe-struck spectators watched as Gavin roughly bound his hand, then clambered painfully into the saddle, soaking, as he left Zawihern in a shameful defeat.
The plump, floury woman looked shaken, though she managed a smile at me and said nodded knowingly. “I told ye so, dear!”
5:
Calm down,
Vaulting over the fence, I stalked off, past a concerned Father, over to the Bubbling Brook, where Lily and I had shared many enjoyable moments. But I didn’t fancy company. I scared even myself. I hadn’t meant to get that angry, angry at all.
Rayfire was still in my hand, partially covered in blood. Watching the sun dancing on the legendary blade was just too much. Flinging it across the brook, it quivered in the trunk of a great hornbeam shading both banks. I stared long at hard at my reflection, willing the battle fire, the flames, to stop dancing. Soon they began to slow, then eventually stop altogether.
Father, who I sensed had been watching, had wisely waited until I seemed in a more favourable mood. Sitting next to me, he watched the ripples of the brook. “Are ye OK,
I didn’t know how to answer that one. I stayed silent.
Father tried again. “What made battle fire come upon ye?”
I was silent for a while, and then managed to reply, “Gavin came t’ Zawihern t’day.”
Silence from Father. “For recruits?” He finally enquired.
“Aye, lookin’ for recruits. He wanted Lily, then me.”
Father smiled grimly. “Ye fought him, didn’t ye? Left him cringin’ in the dust, eh?”
I snorted. “Did I! Snapped his blade t’ show him how it felt t’ be defenceless, an’ taught him a good lesson in manners!”
Father asked softly, “It wasn’t enough, was it?”
I couldn’t help the rage crashing over me as I retorted, “Enough? Gavin won’t have enough ‘til he has the Empire an’ complete swing of it! But I’m goin’ t’ stop him before he gets too far, I vow t’ ye! By the time I’m done with him, he’ll be screechin’ t’ be slain over an’ over!”
Father looked up at me and said, “I believe ev’ry word you’re sayin’, son, an’ I know ye will slay him. But ye scarred your hand.”
I looked down at it. Blood was dripping into the clear water, sudden blots of violence in such tranquil surroundings. Four slashes, forming the letter ‘R’.
“Aye.”
“Was your reason just? Few Rayfires do this. It binds ye t’Gavin, an’ if ye don’t slay him afore ye die…or someone slays him for ye…”
“I know. Then anyone bound to the blood that was leaked shall die also.”
He nodded solemnly, then got up and left.
I stayed there for I don’t know how long, watching the sun sinking beyond the knolls in the distance, my hand smarting with pain. The sun was like a ball of fire, poised grandly on gold silk, casting flickering shadows on the brook. I was on my stomach, elbows bent and hands cupping my face. Twirling a jarrow idly, I just lay there, watching it all. The sun had almost sunk when Lily made an appearance. I saw her features in the water of the brook, and sensed her behind me. I have some sort of method of doing that. The hairs on the back of my neck stand rigid each and every time, as if electrocuted.
“I heard ye’re leavin’.” Lily started the conversation.
I was silent, then, “I’m sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean t’ get caught up with Gavin. I just couldn’t stop…”
I thrust my face into the lukewarm water of the brook, willing it to cleanse my thoughts. Lily was sat next to me when I resurfaced, watching. “I don’t mind,
“I’ll do anythin’ for ye, Lily, whatever it be, ye know that.” I replied, watching as the last sunrays illuminated the little farm.
“Well, don’t forget us, will ye? While ye go off foe huntin’, there are us poor fogies at home.”
I managed a small smile. “I won’t forget any of ye, even prissy Elaine and dreamy Raffia.”
“Forget them anytime of the season, mate, just don’t forget us!” Lily advised.
I couldn’t help laughing at that. I hadn’t laughed like it for days, and it lit up Lily’s face even more.
The sun sank and darkness reigned, the stars watching us as we returned to the house.
“Well, Troy, what is your answer?” Asked Axsarenz impatiently.
I hesitated then answered, “I…I am goin’ t’join ye.”
“Good,” replied Axsarenz. “Rayfires have always been serving under me. And they always will.”
Axsarenz paused. “Ye must call me sir. And ye must come to me.”
“How do I find ye…sir?” I asked, not exactly liking using the word ‘sir’ to address someone whom I’d met in a dream.
“Each night I shall send ye directions. Tomorrow ye must leave Zawihern, and go northwest towards the
“Two days, sir?” I remarked, flabbergasted.
Normally it only took about half-a-day if you loped along.
“Ah, but ye have to avoid dangers. Ye have been given a map of the Empire. You will cross diagonally across the corner of the
“It ain’t hers.” I told him through gritted teeth. “It’s Mira’s.”
“I know that. It is not rightfully hers, but she claims it so.”
I changed the subject to the previous one, taking Father’s advice and attempting not to anger Axsarenz. “But how d’ye get one? Couldn’t I get one an’ cross easily, sir?” As soon as the words left my mouth I realised it wouldn’t work at all. I was too recognizable and would be slain on the spot.
“No. Ye must have permission from the Queen herself, plus it would arise suspicion. A poor farm boy - that’s what they would think of ye - wanting permission to get proof that he was an innocent man? It is too risky. Plus I understand that you don’t really get on with Tyrants, as I judge by yesterday.”
“I see,” I said, hiding my surprise that he had known about Gavin and maybe possibly Sophia. Axsarenz seemed the type of guy who knew everything. “But where will I find shelter, sir? If I can’t camp ‘cause of the patrols, where will I go, sir?”
“Ah, I was wondering when ye’d ask that. On your map, there are hills marked near the corner of the plains, yes? They’ll be right in your path. Find the smallest one, and near the bottom there shall be a large cedar tree. Climb to the top of it, and snap off a twig. Nearby there shall be a brook. Drop the twig into the brook, and below you the ground will separate revealing a little doorway large enough for you to crawl through. As ye enter, the entrance shall shut. Do not fret, for ye will find weapons, along with the brook that I made travel straight through the hill, even though it looks as if it isn’t. The shelter has access to oxygen, and ye will bring provisions, aye?”
“Aye.”
“Now,
His last words echoed around my head, and blackness concealed me as I slumbered on.
My eyes flickered open and were greeted by dawn’s sunshine drifting though the window. At the end of my legs I felt a light weight – like a scroll…
I propped myself upright on an elbow. At the end of my pile of straw there was a scroll, bound tight with black ribbon.
Curious, I untied the ribbon with a scruffily dressed hand and unrolled the scroll to find a map of the Empire. A key was neatly written down the side of the map in sweeping, elegant writing. The straight, indigo dashes showed my path, halting at the hills on the
I kicked my blanket away from me and stretched. I silently began to fetch provisions, some canteens of water and then I washed my face.
I scrawled a simple letter and left the house to face the world.
6: Lily
I was alone in my room, wishing, hoping…
No. He can’t just have… left. He can’t just…have gone after all this time he’s been here…
I can’t believe I’m being so naïve, really. My brother is a Rayfire and he doesn’t want to life at home all his life. That’s reasonable, very reasonable, so why am I so hurt?
I shouldn’t be hurt. I mean, this was coming all along. He was meant to leave.
I brewed over all of my memories I had of
After recalling all of these, I moved onto different memories, when we had travelled from the far north:
I started then to recollect the events in Zawihern since we arrived; we built the farm with the help of the rest of the band.
But then the farm was finished and we held a feast in celebration. It was a simple affair, but an enjoyable one. It lasted for two days and then it was time to say goodbye as the band dispersed…
I hiccoughed, and then I couldn’t stop myself. I let my tears escape, to trickle down my cheeks, my face… I let them all out. And when I wondered if anyone could hear me, and whether
And all I wished and hoped was that
Why couldn’t he stay? I need him in my life, my whole life…
I wiped my eyes roughly with the heel of my hand and I slipped quietly down the corridor into
I saw it then. A rough scroll that was rolled up and fastened with a glossy green ribbon. On the front in
Lily.
This is so hard to write. I don’t know what to say and how to say it, but I’ll try.
I understand if ye hate me for leaving ye; but I would often sit here, by my window, and just watch the wood, and the knolls and hills in the distance, and think and wonder and dream. What was beyond them? What was there to discover? I never knew, but now I’ll find out. Find out the truth.
For so long I’ve seen those hills, for eighteen years and a while, and every time I do I realise just how closely confined I am and a sudden craving to discover and leave, to follow my destiny, whatever it may be, overcomes me.
As for me, I just can’t stay still these days. And the craving gets stronger and stronger and I know I can’t just ignore it. You don’t just ignore these things. Well, you could but then you would just be plain stupid.
And now I’m actually going. Not just up the hill to Zawihern, but actually all over the Empire. I’m not proud of it; in fact I’m rather ashamed. But, like Father has always said, Rayfires can never be pinned down in one place forever. And I’ve realised just how true that actually is.
As for the members of the ‘Troy Fan club’, hosted by two dearly sad people, I’ve left due to their persistent ‘Oooh, look at me I’m the best you want to love me’ attitude I have cleared off. Joke!! But get that message across, just to gain me some peace if I ever come back. I do plan too, so get convincing!
Don’t mourn or weep for me. Just carry on like ye were. I’ll come back someday.
Forever yours,
~~*~~
The hours rushed by. I was sitting alone in a tree on the topmost branches, alone. I was jotting down on a piece of parchment a simple message to Urpha, one of my few friends.
Urpha,
I might not see you for a while, you know, with family errands, but maybe we might see each other in Zawihern? I hope so.
Lily
It was an extremely quick note; yet it was a lie. I wouldn’t see her because I’d be too busy being alone, sobbing my heart out. And I couldn’t tell her, either. I don’t trust her. We’re good friends but how can I trust her with something like this? It’s too personal. I can’t tell anyone; I won’t tell anyone. Well, I can’t hide that
And I’m doing it up a tree, because…? I don’t know. So no one would see me writing it. And as I rolled it up and tied it with a piece of string I felt even worse. Yet I forced myself to go up to Zawihern and push it under her front door. I was positive she couldn’t read my writing; only
How could I be so selfish to Urpha I didn’t know. But I couldn’t take it back…not now.
7:
When you leave home you’re supposed to be prepared, and I was prepared. Prepared enough.
It had been odd, just walking out of the gate and out into the open air, away from home, never to return. To be honest, I somehow knew that I wouldn’t be coming back, no matter what. Despite the fact I said I would. So with that thought in mind I began my roaming.
After lumbering up a few random grassy knolls and vaulting over a giggling stream, I didn’t have far to go until I reached the
A few hours later, I was finally on the fresh, springy grass of the plains. In the distance I could see the glimmer of the sun off a blade; the patrols were coming this way!
I swiftly retreated in the other direction, following a small brook that had popped out of nowhere. I decided it was best not to come across any foes, especially the Queen’s soldiers. I would swiftly be hunted and brought down – something I didn’t fancy trying at the moment.
The sun was begging to set, a marvel, bathing the whole earth in its failing light.
The hills were silhouetted against the sun, an awesome spectacle to behold.
“Oi! What’re ye doin’ here?”
Whirling around, I dealt a whopping thwack with my left fist into the soldier’s jaw.
He seemed to be alone, but there was no point taking chances. I was as tense as a spring waiting to be uncoiled, with the senseless foe for company.
Hiding in the shadows, I watched as three more foes came over to investigate, all with their backs to me.
“Who d’ya s’spose did this? Ole Danny was a tough ‘un!”
Slipping into the light, I tapped the speaker lightly on the shoulder. He whipped around.
“I believe ‘twas me, sir!” I gave him a winning Cheshire cat grin, knocking him out cold with a blow to the side of his head. He crumpled to the ground. The other two ran for it.
Whipping Rayfire from its sheath, I threw it, good and hard, at one of the remaining foes. Penetrating the skin, it slipped into his breathing pipe, silencing him forever. The other foe had dashed into the darkness. I had no chances; I couldn’t let him make his report. But there was no time - I would be caught by more Patrols if I followed in pursuit.
Besides, I still had the other two…
I waved cheerily at the two defeated foes. I had tied them to the limb of a tree, quite a large one, by their feet. They were upside down, and would be until the other patrols found them. Slipping into the night, I followed the brook, with their protests ringing in my ears.
“Please, sir, lemme gooooo!”
“Wahahahaahaa! I’m too young t’die, sir, please, lemme free!”
The brook led me to a hill that was miniscule compared to the others with a cedar tree at the bottom. At the bottom of the young yet vast cedar I dumped my pack before I looked at the giant tree before me. The lowest branches were about four metres above me. I felt around the tree, searching for a small hole or bump so that I could lift myself higher - but no, nothing could help me. Relaxed and ready I took a few steps backwards and made a running leap at the tree.
I knew that I had to be quick or else I’d fall. With a speed that deceived my build I hugged the tree with one arm, swung forwards, still hugging the tree, and in doing so twisted round to the other side of the tree. Groping upwards I clutched the branch I could now just reach and released my other arm so it joined the other. Swinging mightily upwards, I was suddenly upside down as my feet hooked around another branch. Leaning backwards my feet hit the branch below and I was upright again. Snapping off a sizeable twig I swiftly descended.
After flicking the twig in the brook and watching as it was carried off, I advanced warily towards the hill. The hill seemed to shimmer, and a dark, musty tunnel appeared, twisting sharply into the gloom.
Fancy!
I got onto all fours; pack slung over my shoulder and wriggled into the darkness and mustiness of the tunnel. It was some time before I arrived in a little room with a dome-like ceiling, with the little brook streaming by.
Before me, glimmering in a dim glow that seemed to radiate from it, was a spear of sturdy oak wood. It was well honed; the point was flawless.
I had used spears before, but they had never felt at home in my palm. I intended to leave the spear behind, sticking to my many blades I kept concealed and my longbow and jarrows.
Removing the faithful weapon from my quiver, I gazed down at it and twanged the string, my mind drifting back to the many moons I had spent crafting such a weapon.
It was the finest thing I’d ever made with my own hands.
Father had leant me some seasoned yew. For the next few days I’d carved at the wood using Rayfire until it had taking a fine longbow shape. Next I needed a string. So I’d gone to the Bubbling Brook with Lily and we’d had a picnic while I plucked the tall, long shoots of waxweed, a rather rubbery greyish type of strong reed, perfect for longbow strings. After I’d dyed and plaited three tall shoots together, one blue, one green, one red, which had taken a few hours, I knotted both ends securely through the holes I’d skewered using one of the jarrowheads I had made. One knot was at each end of the yew bow; after knotting these securely and testing the strings strength, I made some more jarrowheads.
I’d found plenty of eagle feathers: They sell them in Zawihern in the fletchers. So I’d bought a large batch along with several sycamore shoots and a strong quiver made from light grey leather. I’d gone over to the blacksmiths, which was owned by Raffia’s father (she was so excited to see me that when her father was serving another customer she found me several made javelin heads). Her father soon caught up with us, though. He asked me why I needed them, and so I went into how I was making a bow, and I needed some javelin heads, and he grinned and asked how many I wanted. So I asked how much are you supposed to have, and he went, “Well. A good loaded quiver is always a good idea. About forty: this I suggest because of the rise of barbarians raidin’ the place. But why do ye need javelin heads? Wouldn’t arrow heads be fine?”
“Aye, they’d be fine, but I find arrows to small and javelins to big. I’m makin’ jarrows, half arrows half javelins. Would that be expensive?”
“Nah, of course not! It is common knowledge that lads like ye need arrows - or in your case, jarrows plenty! So, for forty fully made javelin heads it’ll only be ten tears! Whaddya say?”
“Done, and an extra five tears for I feel that that price is ridiculously low.” I grinned. “All these places are. Thanks, though.”
I handed over the silver coins and returned home. I’d then made them a little smaller so they really were jarrowheads. I’d then held each one in place while I carefully applied seasap, a very firm long lasting glue to the base of the jarrowheads and to metal rings from a chain mail sheet I’d found. Father said it was a load of junk. And using plant dyes, I’d dyed the chain mail rings green, like my eyes, so I could tell they were my jarrows. Not that anyone else would have any. I would then use Rayfire and slit four even slits at the other end of each arrow and, using seasap once again, firmly wedged the eagle feathers into them. The result was fantastic. For weeks afterwards Raffia and her little fan club wouldn’t stop reverently gazing at it, or asking to hold it – that sort of thing. It drove me up the wall.
I sighed, returned my longbow to my quiver, got out my wineskin and refilled it with water from the brook, before I sipped it sparingly, gazing at the brook but not seeing it. My mind wandered back to Lily again.
Afterwards I retrieved a rough dinner from my pack: some salad, a wedge of refreshing apple crumble, and, of course, seedcakes. Just two.
After munching happily and savouring the seedcake like I always do when I taste it, I flopped rather dejectedly onto the floor.
When I shut my eyes to slumber, Gavin was there. He sneered at me, laughing, then bellowed, “I am Gavin Justin an’ ye will die!”
8: Lily
Today I couldn’t sew at all; I couldn’t see the eye in the needle because my vision was so blurred due to tears, and so far I’d only been sewing for about five minutes and I must have pricked myself at least twenty times.
“Why am I doin’…sewin’ when my brother has just…just…?” I cried in frustration, trailing of and throwing my sewing forcefully onto the grass below me. “WHY?” I kicked over the bench and ran into the house, tears taking their toll.
I ran through the house, burst through the front door and ran back around the house, in case Father was following me. I then fought my way through the crops (which were at least two metres tall) and climbed quite clumsily over a gate, before I dumped myself at the base of a tree and sobbed. Just sobbed.
I gazed up at the tall oak tree above me.
“I know, I know. Let it all out, have a good cry…”
Father’s voice drifted from in front of me. I looked up, rested my elbows on my knees, and cupped my face with my hands.
He was standing there, leaning over the gate, and he was watching me.
“Ye just need to remember that
He leapt over the gate with sudden agility and sat down next to me. His arm found its way round my shoulders and I let my hands go back to my sides, along with my elbows, and I tilted my head so that it was resting on Father’s shoulder, making me think of
The tears now that ran down my cheeks weren’t only mine; Father was crying too, but he wasn’t snuffling as making noises and sniffing. (Not that I was or anything). He was just crying.
“Shall we recite a little poem, mmm? In memory of
“Yes.” I hiccoughed. “Let’s.”
“Hey ho ho an’ a ho hey hey
Don’t fill your pudgy belly,
Take the loot an’ get the boot
With your ol’ messmate Kelly, harrharr!
Go care for your family,
Take the blame an’ share the shame
With your ol’ messmate Kelly, harrharr!
Lay la la an’ a la lay lay
As the good ol’ Cap’n will say,
‘Mind your tongue with ev’ryone
An’ your ol’ messmate Kelly, harrharr!’
Hey ho ho an’ a ho hey hey
Lay la la an’ a la lay lay
I take that back, O lackaday!
Who killed ol’ messmate Kelly?
‘Me, grand sir, I did slay her
Go join your messmate Kelly, harrharr!’”
Father’s breath irritated my ear as he recited softly. I soon joined in, staring up at the sky, wishing for
But now he was gone, and I was alone.
9:
“I trust you have reached your shelter?” Axsarenz leapt into the blackness just moments after my eyes closed.
“Of course, sir.” I replied.
“Now then, seeing as the Queen’s patrols have been poisoned by Falfow, my most faithful and loyal servant, ye may now head west, quickening your route. So…leave now and ye’ll reach the edge of the plains by early morning. Then, head through a thicket of trees, up the Black Mounts and head towards
“Ye have planned well, sir.” I didn’t really know what else to say.
“Now go.” He ordered in a deep voice that was edged with a tone that seemed to say, ‘Now-obey-me-or-you-will-regret-it’.
“Aye, sir.”
I lay still, ears straining for any sounds of foes nearby. It was silent. Sliding silently into a sitting position, I slung my pack over my shoulder and departed, uttering nothing that would give away my position.
Slipping silently into the tranquil night, I darted off, away from the campfires that the Patrols had rigged up. They were little more than embers; I had to have a good head start. Before long, the alarm would be raised and I’d be pursued.
I continued at a swift, nimble sprint, out over the plains. There would be little or no halts. I couldn’t take any chances. One mistake, one slip up, and it would prove fatal.
Three hours later, I was utterly exhausted, but I strove onwards. I had only stopped for a quick thirty-second breather and a swig of water. My legs were burning, getting heavier with each moment, and my arms ploughed wearily through the air. I hadn’t slowed my reckless pace since late night; it was now early morning. Dawn had passed not long ago, and I had now entered a small clump of trees. I tripped over a tree root and fell forward into a mattress of gold, russet and bronze leaves. I hadn’t the strength to heave myself upwards again; it seemed to have leaked from my body and into the earth. The sun was shining painfully in my eyes, and my head flopped forward.
In the darkness of slumber, I dreamed of something I’d never dreamed I would be dreaming of. But I wasn’t dreaming. I was having a vision that was true. It would all happen in my future, sometime soon. How I knew? I felt it. I knew it. How often is it you have a dream like this one? Only ever once in your life, when Rayfires are being told of their destiny.
Battle cries filled my ears, the Queen’s army fought with all the might they could muster, but they were too weak. Blood stained the floor, screeching screams pierced my ears.
Yet I couldn’t see anything at all, just hear. A loud crack filled my ears, followed by a huge burst of pain in my shoulder, between my collarbone and neck.
I unsheathed Rayfire and hacked away at the enemies I could now see, the Queen’s soldiers, hacking, thrusting, parrying, thrashing, slashing, slaying, a jarrow in my hand…
“No!”
A scream filled with anguish, pain, grief and rage erupted from nowhere and soon there was a rapier by my side, twisting around in a blur and slaying countless. And another sword joined me, one that on its blade, close to the hilt, the word Freefoe was engraved in neat, slanting writing. And then another rapier joined in the deadly dancing swords around me, then two more deadly blades, with the words Eagleclaw and Eaglefang engraved on them. Yet I couldn’t see the owners, just the soldiers, and then from behind the soldiers came several battle cries and hundreds of blades pierced the army from behind. Falling backwards, I flung my jarrow good and hard into the enemy ranks.
“Rayfiiiiiiiiiire!”
My eyes snapped open with a start. I had a perfect view of the pale dawn streaked across the sky in several hues of pink, orange, yellow, red and a slight tinge of blue. Gold-tinged clouds rolled across the sky, avoiding the huge fiery orb of the sun that was slowly rising as if from the ground.
I cursed my bad fortune. I had been slumbering for hours and hours – the Patrols would be much closer, having gained such ground. For all I knew, they could be in the distance right now. Grabbing my pack, I continued my previous trail. How could I have been so foolish? My life was at stake. How could I have just drifted off to sleep in such a situation?! A fierce determination propelled my onwards. Everything was passing in a kaleidoscope of colours. I don’t think I had ever run so fast. Bolting from the trees, I faced an open area of knolls. I couldn’t rest until I reached the Black Mounts – and they were a long way off.
10: Father
I was weeding the fields alone for the first time in ten years. It was so unusual, not seeing
It was too unusual.
I turned to a thistle and wandered how Lily was doing in Zawihern. Was she surrounded by a gaggle of girls enquiring where
Knowing that Lily’s sewing skills had gone down since Troy left I sent a note to the weavers explaining that Lily was in no condition to sew today but would help to organise the stalls. When they wanted to know why she couldn’t sew I wrote back explaining about a long knife gash on her finger. They replied saying that Lily would be able to help there from noon to dusk.
Only that she didn’t have a knife gash on her finger.
As soon as I told her about the messages and her fake gash she asked, “Are you going to give me one, then?” With a small cheeky grin on her face.
I chuckled and replied, “No need. I can just bandage up a finger for you. But, you have to use that hand carefully and exclaim whenever someone touches it. Ye understand?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She replied, raising one eyebrow – just like
“Which rag would you like, Lily? One soaked in cold water or one in warm?”
The next day, I was working, labouring away, alone – Lily had offered to help but I refused – and, like always, I was thinking about
It also happened I began to think of
“But -!”
“No ‘but’s,
“Ye don’t understand! I want to make a difference, do somethin’ good in the world!” Troy scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, stemming the tears.
“Makes no difference, son: ye’re too young.” I had sided with
“I’m seven -!”
“Too young.” Mira joined in, ruffling his hair. “Ye, Master Rayfire, are a handful. We won’t decline ye forever. Someday ye will make a difference.”
“Someday could be any day.”
“The day will come.” Mira assured him, though his face was stony and stayed so. She gave a sigh.
“
“That’s not how I see it.” The words were indistinct, barely reaching my ears.
“It’s not? Are ye pullin’ on my leg? ‘Cause… well, that’s what I thought, an’ my dad thought, an’ Will thought, an’ even
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” That was all he had said, the faint flames hidden by a film of tears. “That’s all – rubbish. Ye don’t want me t’go into battle because… I’m different. I overheard ye last night.” He took a deep breath, though the tears started. “Because I have – have it.”
“That’s not it at all!”
“The way I see it,” He yelled over his shoulder, “is that we can’t resort t’peace, an’ we won’t resort t’peace, so we defend ourselves. But we get carried away, an’ then there’s no more peace. We have t’fight for peace rather than… than -”
His words were lost as he entered the leafy canopy of trees, Joel yelling and calling for him over and over. But he didn’t come back.
11: Lily
Those weavers are so ruddy fussy.
It’s fine when you’re just sewing in the background, but no one was sewing today, because it was normally me. Then they just come over every now and then and see how far you’ve got.
But today they went just mad when I placed a folded black velvet dress next to a red one and said I’d done it all wrong. I mean, hello? They told me to put it there. And when I hung the black cord girdles on the rack next to the whites they went ballistic and placed it on the other side of the white ones. That was pointless.
And then when I put the forest green tunics next to the brown ones they complained about it and moved them over next to the red ones.
And then they gave me this long lecture on, ‘How Well Raffia Organizes Things’. I got told how good Raffia was at combining colours and styles, and how she could put dresses in the right place along with girdles and tunics. And so I pointed out that it was my first day at organizing the shelves, which made them go plum purple in the face as they spat out a load of abuse at me.
So much for ‘Weaver’s Today care about your clothes quality’ on their advertisement. More like: ‘We’re batty weavers but pretend we aren’t and couldn’t care less about the quality of your clothes, we just need the cash’.
So I suggested that if they let me organise the shelves my way then everything’d be fine. And do you know what? They said yes.
This perked me up quite a lot, and so I:
Moved the folded black velvet dress next to the red one.
Moved the black girdles next to the white ones and then I placed the red ones next to them.
Moved the forest green tunics next to the brown ones.
I continued moving and adjusting until everything was in the order of the rainbow, apart from the black, white and brown and all the other colours. They were just placed at the end of the row they were in.
By the end of the day the stall was a mixture of bright colours and the weavers weren’t very happy about it – you could tell from the looks on their faces. But, they got more customers; bright colours attract people (don’t ask me why, ‘cause I don’t know).
This cheered them up a bit and to my surprise they asked me if I could arrive earlier each day to rearrange the stall before I did sewing.
I replied, “If my salary gets raised by a few tears then sure.”
And then I dashed off before they could recover from my cheeky remark.
And, as I left Zawihern, Raffia came up to me and asked, “Hey, how did ye organise the stall so well?”
I shrugged. “I use my head, unlike ye, Miss Dreamy. Not that ye even have a brain that can’t think about anythin’ about Troy Rayfire.”
I left Raffia gazing dreamily into the distance, not realising how rude I had been.
It was then Sophia came galloping in from the distance, on a grand, glossy chestnut mare, with four bodyguards seated on less noble steeds. Yelling at the guard of the gate, she entered the bustling town.
“Assemble all the townsfolk – I have an important message to relay!”
Father and I mingled into the muttering crowd. The only reason Sophia came to towns was to relate bad news, new laws and pathetic speeches. But she seemed much more agitated then normal to give a speech. One of her bulky bodyguards held up a hand, hailing the crowd.
“Ladies an’ gentlemen, I present her Majesty, Sophia Ver -”
“Silence, ye dithering idiot!” Snapped Sophia, causing the man to turn bright red. Turning to the silent and watchful crowd, she addressed us. “Ye may well know that ye may not cross my Plains without my permission, and proof of it by taking my token of acceptance. However, that law has been broken. One of six Patrols was left in a sorry state by this – this insolent piece of FILTH.”
Snatching a dagger from one of her guards, Sophia shoved it viciously into a piece of parchment, near the top. When she moved away, the whole crowd gasped.
Father and I exchanged glances, and returned her disbelieving gaze back to the portrait of
“By ‘a sorry state’, I am concluding to one slain Patrol member and two senseless. The fourth escaped. It is not amusing to find two Patrol members slung upside down in a stately hornbeam.” Continued Sophia. I snorted with laughter, but disguised it as a sneeze. “I believe this was his hometown. I ask that if any of ye have any useful information ye wish to share, please do not hesitate to tell me.” Swinging astride of her steed, she galloped from Zawihern, her bodyguards close behind. It had been all too brief.
“We can only hope he hasn’t got himself in the deep end, mate.” Muttered Father. “Or else he really is dead meat.”
12:
I had come across a small village. It was dark, and the Black Mounts were in the distance, but at least I now had a crucial shred of information: Sophia was on my tail. I had sighted the flyer, claiming for my arrest. I digested the information, and then continued my escape. I had to keep going – there was little time left. By now, the whole of the Empire would be on the lookout for me, so the sooner I was free, the safer I would be. How ironic – that rhymes!
Rocketing onwards through the night, I dodged around the few and scarce villages. The last thing I needed was any villager seeing a ‘criminal’.
I had slowed to a jog as the night progressed. The mountains weren’t far off, and I needed to save my energy to get out of arrow or spear range, should the army of Sophia drew close enough to do so. What I had expected to be a rambling life of roaming had turned into chaos already – trouble had a dreadful habit of finding me. It was a sixth sense I couldn’t shake off.
A few hours later, I was at the foot of the Black Mounts. I looked over my shoulder. Was that dust shimmering in the distance? If it was, the army really wasn’t far behind. Plans of a short rest were abandoned. Dashing heedlessly along a rough footpath, I returned to a reckless pace. It was then I heard a low growl from above me. I was already tense and alert; I ceased sprinting. Looking upwards, I found myself gazing into the amber eyes of a large wolf, with shimmering onyx fur and milky white teeth and claws – both stained with blood. There was no time to think as two more came up behind the first, their eyes gleaming with greed at such a meal.
I took a step back, and they pounced from the ledge, snarling. Seizing a jarrow, I dug it deep into a large crack in the rock. Undoing a long climbing rope from around my waist in just seconds, I readied it. The first wolf came forward. I waited. The second followed, then the third, caught by the desire of a free meal; I had walked right into their claws. The ledge was just wide enough for them to walk along shoulder-by-shoulder, fangs bared in an eerie smile -
It was then I moved like lightning. Whipping the rope in a vicious lasso, it caught them all around their necks. They couldn’t move their heads downwards, but it was too far for their claws to reach. Towing them forward, I wound the rope around the haft of the jarrow, at the same time using it to bind their forepaws together.
“Sorry, mates, but I’m not for dinner. Find a fatty in Sophia’s army, he’ll do.”
The wolves snarled and growled in protest and loathing, but I took no notice, gazing into the night. By now I could see the faint outlines of the soldiers, smartly uniformed and bearing a large oblong shield, illuminated by the star and moonlight, with the Royal House’s coat of arms in the distance, a large dust cloud in their wake. I had to get a move on – there was no time! They would swarm upon me before I was halfway up the mounts.
There was only one desperate plan left to mind: I would have to climb the sheer mountain face. It would not only be quicker, but it would buy me more time; Sophia would go around the long way.
Taking a quick swig from my gourd, I began the lethal ascent. After just a few painful minutes I had a motley collection of cuts and scratches from the jagged rock face. From below, there was a faint scream. It sounded feminine; it cut through the air like a knife, leaving jagged edges. It was obviously from Sophia’s army…how could they have moved so quickly? A renewed sense of urgency urged me to go faster; I fulfilled its wish, forgetting about the cuts and scratches. My legs were burning with exhaustion, as were my arms, but I couldn’t stop. Sophia was out for my blood, and she wasn’t going to have any of it. Not a single drop.
An hour passed, with faint screams from below reaching my ears. For once, I was grateful of the wolves – they were slowing Sophia’s progress.
I was almost at the
A few minutes later, I heaved myself painfully onto a narrow rock ledge, dropping a few feet onto the lush grass of the valley. I was dangerously close to collapsing from fatigue, but I strove onwards. How could I stop now? I was almost at
After just a few minutes the valley’s floor was thrumming with footsteps. I wasn’t even halfway down it. I chanced a sneaky glance over my shoulder, and saw. How could I have been so stupid?! They were on horseback, around, ooh, three score. Sophia was in the lead. The sight of the wicked Tyrant made me stop for a few moments, just glaring at her, but now was most possibly the worst time to let battle fire overcome me. I strove onwards once more, swamping all traces of the stuff, cursing myself as the puzzle was formed -
The screams…? The rock ledges would have been just narrow enough to bear two horses, flank by flank; several had fallen off. I winced at the thought.
“Ye’re cornered, Rayfire! Throw down your weapons and put your hands in the air!” Yelled Sophia, halting expertly her steed – a silken black stallion.
“Never!” I roared in reply, skidding to a halt. “If ye have my weapons, it’ll be over my slain carcass, Tyrant!”
“Ye have defied me! Charge, ye fools! Charge!”
I turned and pelted away from her. I was just out of range of arrows and javelins, but they were closing the gap with each stride. I could see the sunlight glinting off the sea – I didn’t have much further to go…
Putting on a burst of speed, I ran dead-ahead for the ocean. It really wasn’t far; a few more strides and I’d be on the beach. Sophia’s army were little more than ten feet away -
I tripped over a spar of driftwood. Returning swiftly to an upright position, I threw the driftwood in to the mighty swells of ocean, with me clinging firmly onto it. Arrows zipped through the air and were lost within the waves as I began to swim furiously.
More arrows -
I swam on, fighting against the vicious water, the salty fragrance wafting up my nostrils, strong and vile. I tried to ignore it but it still made me cough and splutter, sending seawater into my mouth, which just made me cough and splutter even more. My legs ached and my arms were numb; but still I kept on swimming, vile salty aromas and exhaustion seeping through my veins. My hands loosened and they slipped easily off the driftwood. Ever determined, I swam back towards it, and clung on firmly with my hands, not daring to let go -
I dared to look back. I couldn’t see
I kicked on, but the waves suddenly lashed out at my makeshift vessel, smashing it to splinters. The shattered pieces drifted away, at the mercy of the vicious torrents of seawater that was began to roughen, as if angry I was there.
The fragments floated off into the distance, out of my reach. I began to swim along the course I was trying to follow, when yet another wave came. It washed over me, sending water up my nostrils and into my mouth; I coughed and spluttered, and I managed to grab something, a hard object – a spar of wood, covered in tar; a large chunk, probably from a large vessel. Faded writing on the piece read the words Fangteeth, the Queen’s pride of her fleet. Inwardly I cheered. But this wasn’t the time to think of that. Still desperate, I tried to tread water, but the water was crashing… and swirling… and squeezing any other existence of life other then this howling, raging beast -
My hand hurt like blazes; my head hurt. I began to sink lower, the driftwood the only thing supporting my weight, keeping me afloat…
I was still clinging onto it. I didn’t know why. Water filled my mouth and nose, crashing down…down…down… harder and harder. I was lost in a complete whirlwind of chaos, unable to escape. Water, (curse the stuff!) came in yet more torrents, swamping my whole body mercilessly. Pounding onto my torso, I felt the breath crushed out of me as, somehow, I heard Sophia roaring above the noise of the waves.
“…Slay him, slay him, ye idle fools! Slay him! He’s defied me; he has to die! Curse him, shoot arrows, do what ye will, but slay him!”
My many splinters dug in cruelly as I heaved myself to a more comfortable position on the driftwood; the waves came pounding down, obscuring my vision -
And
everything
went
black.
13: Lily
Sophia had come to the town again in a towering rage. Snatching a quill off of a trembling guard, she drew a large cross across the price on Troy’s flyer, raising it to fifty-hundred-thousand tears - a price too high, and a price that could buy you a palace, staff, furniture for the interior – and you’d still have enough money to last you a century even if you liked to spend, spend, spend.
“This insolent idiot refused to lay down his arms and surrender to me, and he will pay the consequences!” Snarled Sophia. Father and I exchanged glances. “Hopefully, he is at the bottom of the sea. At
With that, she mounted her flawlessly groomed steed and left the town.
Father shook his head gravely. “We can only hope for the best now, daughter.”
I didn’t take my eyes of
But even though I tried to sound optimistic, my words were hollow, with no meaning. Because
I didn’t want to believe that.
The next day I ran at uncontrollable speed down the hill, charging down to the fence below. I stopped at the fence, breathless with laughter, and vaulted over it before I strode into the house and into the kitchen. Father was there, sharpening his assortment of tools ready for the morrow, snacking also on a small pear and apple turnover as he sharpened. When he saw me his face lit up and he said politely, “Work fine?”
“The complete opposite.” I retorted, opening a draw and snatching out a cherry pasty to snack on.
“I think I know why.” Replied Father, examining the point of a knife and running his finger along the blade.
“How helpful ye are.” I said with sarcasm through a mouthful of cherry and pastry.
“Now, if ye don’t mind, Lily, I need to sharpen this, and I don’t want t’get sparks in your eyes. Could ye…uh… I don’t mean to sound rude, but could ye leave the room for a while?” Requested Father, blushing slightly.
“Fine,” I shrugged, devouring the last of my pasty and swallowing it. “I’ll be outside.”
I left the room before he could reply and wandered out into the field. It was beginning to get dark; the moon was beginning to brighten and stars were gradually becoming visible.
Singing is one of my favourite things to do after sewing, and even if I’m not the best at it I still enjoy it. Because you can pick what you say, how you say it, the tune, the way you emphasize certain words, whatever.
But what I like more then singing is poems.
OK, I admit it, I’m babbling. There’s nothing to do anymore.
My thoughts turned to Sophia. I hated her guts so much. I wanted to find something – anything – to inflict hurt on her. Even a flipping doll would do – just shove it down her throat and we’re done! But I still couldn’t eradicate the questions: Where was
My thoughts turned again, this time to Mira: I missed her. The day we got the news… it was like a knife had been silently thrust into my heart. And
She’s…she’s dead…
I hated that sentence so much. That sentence that had taken away a fragment of my life. An irreplaceable fragment.
We never went to the burial. I didn’t even know where it was. Father just said, infuriatingly, “Ye’ll find out one day.”
I still haven’t found out though. But I will find out. And I’ll pay my last respects.
She’s…she’s dead…
But I couldn’t help thinking that the next sentence we’d hear from one of the Queen’s officials would be no better.
He’s…he’s dead…
It was now dark outside. Father had finished sharpening his assortment of tools and knives; I was alone in the kitchen, devouring the last of my supper - some cordial, a lively salad of tomatoes, yewroot, lettuce, sliced sandroot and a drizzle of honey. My salad was almost gone, my beaker was half full and yet I still felt so empty inside.
I shoved a piece of salad into my mouth and retrieved some parchment to write on. I fetched a quill and ink and hastily doodled and wrote all over the page, doodling a border around my work. I just let the pen wiggle and write all over the paper, over and over, writing in lines without knowing what I was doing.
Toil and pain mean nothing
Rolling blood and enemies gone
Only one has a battle cry like this male,
Youth runs out as he roars to the sky.
I stared at my sudden gruesome words. They’d come out of nowhere, down my arm, my hand and onto the paper. I stared at them for what seemed an age before I managed to reach out a trembling hand and took a swig of cordial to steady myself. It didn’t do a lot of good so I managed to steady my nerves after a few minutes and I doodled some more below the gruesome poem above.
My first is in simple and also in leaves,
My second is in ‘No longer’,
My third is found on the wall,
My fourth is over yonder,
My fifth is made up from three parts,
So when you find the answer,
Look for the tallest place ye know,
And up there you shall go,
To find the next clue for my prize,
Tell me now: what am I?
At least these words weren’t so gruesome. I think I got it now. Someone wanted me to find the prize. I didn’t know what it was, either. I just felt I should do it on my own. So I wouldn’t tell Father. I’d just start to work on it.
14: Joel
“Ahoy, Jo, there’s a strong-lookin’ lad floatin’ on a raft over yonder!” Rupert, who was in the crow’s nest, reported eagerly.
“Well, what are you doin’, standin’ up there an’ doin’ nothin’ about it?” I enquired to him above the roar of the wind.
“Man overboaaaaaard!”
Rupert’s bawl bought the crew of the vessel Seapecker to life. Several burly men and strong women arrived on the scene, following Rupert’s arm. And as I looked, I saw it too: a figure was hung limply on some driftwood, a quiver of extremely large arrows yet extremely small javelins on his back with a great, elegant longbow, hand carved by the looks of it. His fiery chestnut-orange hair was plastered to the back of his head, and his deep green tunic and mellow cream undershirt were thoroughly drenched through. He was lost to sight as a wave rose terrifyingly high and crashed down upon him, yet moments later he resurfaced.
“Oi! Ye two, Bill ‘n’ Will, d’ye have a rope on ye?” I asked the zany pair.
“Hup, indeed we do, Cap’n. Right here!”
“I’m
“We’re dead shots, mate!”
“Well, I need ye to -”
“- Lasso the lad into safety?” Finished Bill and Will.
“Ye took the words right out of my mouth!” I grinned.
They beamed at me winningly before roaring together, “One man comin’ onboard! Everyone take one step backwards! Give us a wide berth! Here we goooooo!”
The lasso stretched out far and wide as Bill and Will held its end doggedly. The lasso fell short of the stranger; Bill and Will hauled it in and exclaimed that the wind was blowing against the lasso from the east. They loosed the lasso again just as the wind caused the boat to lurch perilously on the strong foaming waves.
It seemed that this helped Bill and Will. The strong stout rope found its mark; it was looped loosely around the man’s middle and his quiver of arrows/javelins and his longbow.
“Haul him in!” I instructed to the crew, and they did as I’d bidden. They all formed around Bill and Will to haul in the figure that was at the mercy of the strong torrents of rain that had come out of nowhere and the strong currents.
After hauling for several minutes, the stranger was onboard the Seapecker. A large pool of seawater surrounded his already soaking body as we carefully lowered the limp form onto the heaving deck.
“I never thought I’d see him again.” Mattalin cried out, looking at the hilt of the blade he had sheathed by his side as if it were the most important thing in the Empire.
“What d’ye mean? I’ve never seen him before.” I exclaimed quizzically. By the faces of some of the crew I was sure they were thinking the same.
“Ye don’t know what that sword is?” Mattalin looked dumbstruck. “That, I’m telling ye, is Rayfire, the sword handed down through Rayfires through the ages. This is Troy Rayfire we have here, nephew of Mira Rayfire! We have a born warrior here, for the next raid Sophia sends at us! An’ look at his hand! Look at it! He scarred himself! Someone got on the wrong side of him an’, well, I’m glad I’m not them!”
There was a stunned silence. Rayfires were famed warriors, and we’d managed to get a real Rayfire - a real Rayfire - onto the deck of our ship. The blade he had sheathed at his side had killed and maimed and silenced foes through the ages, his relatives had saved and helped people in danger, they never had backed down, and they had never let anybody die if there was a slim chance they could live. We had a warrior, a born warrior, lying here on our ship ready and waiting for the next raid Sophia sent at us. And not only that… but his hand…
“But how d’ye know his name? An’ look, he seemed t’be floatin’ on a remainder of ol’ Fangteeth, see!” Bill and Will pointed out, eyeing the man’s face.
“I nursed him when he was a babe, that ‘un.” Mattalin explained. “I’ll know it’s him when I see his eyes. No one has ever had eyes as green as
“Blimey, I never knew ye were that old!” Bill and Will exclaimed, but they recoiled as Mattalin glared at them and muttered to themselves, “Well, ‘tis true…”
Eva, the ships healer, crouched down by his side. In a flash a rapier was at her neck, concealed in the sleeve of the man’s - or Troy’s – tunic. The Seapecker’s crew pointed all their weapons down at
He turned to me, checking his weapons. It turned out he had a rapier and a dagger up one arm, a longbow on his back, a sabre down his boot, along with Rayfire thrust into its sheath settled on his belt. I was greeted with two piercing green eyes and a wolfish Cheshire cat grin. So Mattalin was right about his eyes. I’d never known anything or seen anything as green as these eyes, but I felt like I knew them, and had seen them before… But for now, I couldn’t place my finger on when or where. But the thing that caught my attention and sent a shiver of awe down my spine was the flames, lurking in the back of Troy’s irises; I had seen them before, too, but never knew what it meant. But now I did - and I was dreading the time when battle fire overcame him, and set him slaying and slaying countless evildoers. We wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, just sit and watch the carnage wreaked by such a rage. Wreaked by vengeance, revenge. A warrior’s revenge.
“Ye look like the Cap’n… Nice to meet ye, Troy Rayfire requestin’ seedcakes an’ somethin’ – anythin’ – to wash it down afore I starve.”
The crew relaxed. There was nothing to fear from
“Nice to meetcha,
“Ye don’t remember me, then?”
I grinned with realisation. “So we did, so we did! Well, as I was sayin’, Joel Hilltye here, owner of the beautiful vessel Seapecker, an’ I’ll meet all your requests. Mattalin, go get our guest some seedcakes an’ some elderflower cordial, if ye please.”
But Mattalin wasn’t listening; she had been waiting for her moment.
“Troy Rayfire, how ye’ve grown!” Mattalin exclaimed, leaping on him.
“Mattalin, sir. I’m your cousin, sir. I’m daughter of Sarose, sister of William Rayfire, but she’s married now and her surname’s Evenslate, sir. I helped nurse you when you were a babe, sir. An’ I helped your sister too, sir.”
A few hours later found
We were chatting together. We’d taken to each other straight away, just like in the old days.
“Right. Sooner or later ye’ll want to know my story, huh, Jo?”
And he told me of all of the dramatic events and days he’d faced, even some of his past in Zawihern. And as I listened intently through it all, I could tell
“Right, well that’s over. Story in exchange for story, mmmm? Fair’s fair an’ all. Spit out your story, Jo, I do love a good yarn, but I don’t normally have time for hem.”
“Fair enough.” I shrugged. “Well, I’m like ye. I’m goin’ to Axsarenz too. My gran’parents did… Runs through the fam’ly, y’know? So off I left with my ol’ sword Freefoe -”
“Did ye say Freefoe?”
“Aye, I did.” I replied, looking at his face curiously. He was looking past me now, obviously in deep thought. He leant back, closing his eyes.
“Someday that sword’ll fight against the Queen’s soldiers with me, two rapiers, an’ two swords named Eaglefang and Eagleclaw. But please continue, sorry for the interruption. Merely relatin’ somethin’ out of a vision. That’s the day I’ll die. Glad ye’ll be helpin’, mate.”
“- An’ a few other weapons an’ set off. An’ my father gave me this map, an’ I asked where it would take me. He told’ me I would find my destiny that way. So I left. I travelled and foun’ the Seapecker an’ its crew. I joined it. They didn’t have a Cap’n, so they chose me. An’ I keep on askin’ them to call me Jo but they insist I should be called Cap’n.
“So I’m sailin’ due northwest, like Axsarenz told me to. The tiller’s lashed thataways always, Rupert’s always up in the crow’s nest, an’ the crew’s always busy. We fight foe ships, y’know, ones from the Queen? She’s always sendin’ them after us because we’ve – er – offended her, y’know…”
I trailed off, lost and racking my brain for words. My cheeks were turning a shade of brilliant red, but
“Ye’re not the only one, y’know. I’ve had my own fun. Lily an’ me one time – God, it was hilarious. Ye know when she comes t’towns and reminds ev’ryone of the pathetic rules she makes up?”
“Well, when she was doin’ one of her super-duper borin’ speeches, Lily an’ I sneaked around t’ her horse and threw a load of itchin’ powder all over it – we’d made it ourselves, usin’ several secret herbs. She went berserk and never found out. Her face was so funny we excused ourselves and we went back home tryin’ t’keep a straight face. Can ye imagine it?”
I chortled. “Wish I was there!”
“Ye’d better. An’ it was hilarious when the horse kept buckin’ her off. In the end she had to douse the poor beast in freezin’ spring water. It didn’t do much good, y’know. Father guessed – Hahaha, knew, rather - it was us an’ gave us a rather stern lecture, but even he couldn’t help laughin’ at our antics… ah, for the days of youth, eh? Stern ol’ stick, crazy torturer he can be sometimes. He once tanned my backside with words when I went for a lil’ walk – well, maybe a bit of a lengthy stroll…”
“Say that again and I’ll show ye what a Cap’n does. We may be mates, but I have my limits…!”
“Aye aye, Cap’n!”
I leapt across the table and the chase began.
“Come here, ye! Come on; obey the Cap’n of this floatin’ tub!”
“’Fraid I can’t, Cap’n! An’ I thought ye said it was a ‘beautiful vessel’?”
“Oh, when I get my hands on ye…!”
“What did ye say, Cap’n? Oops, sorry Eva, jus’ the Cap’n seems t’want my guts for garters!”
The next day past eventfully.
“My watch now, mate.”
“It doesn’t feel right,” I said to no one in particular, ignoring
“Ye know your sword, Rayfire,
“Sabre.”
I rolled my eyes and continued… I had to ask. “Is the blade made out of Rayfire crystal?”
“Good guess: It is. Look’s like metal, nothin’ can chip it. As for the cross hilt, well, that’s pure silver, infused with several metals so that it’s lighter then light; nothin’ better, and the handle, here, that’s just been covered with black leather. An’ the pommel stone is moonstone.” He fingered the engraved writing on the blade that read Rayfire.
“It really is a wondrous blade,
He smiled weakly. “They’re jarrows. Arrows are too small an’ javelins are too big.”
“I see.”
We watched the sun rise across the horizon.
15:
Life on the Seapecker was enjoyable. Jo and I are really quite close; I can see his worries about Sophia, though. There’s always someone up in the crow’s nest, always at least four on watch, and everyone’s fully armed and ready for action.
Nobody is allowed to do nothing. That’s what it looks like. Someone’s always at the tiller even though it’s lashed, someone’s always checking the sails, someone’s always on watch, someone’s always doing something.
“Sail to the soooooouth!”
Rupert’s call alerted the whole crew. I scaled the rigging with ease and hopped into the nest with Rupert. I looked to the south and saw it too; a bright white sail with a red flag raised. We were going to fight. All of my cheeriness was increased dramatically when I noticed this with my keen eyesight.
“Jo – their red flag is raised, no quarter now! We’ve got t’fight; if we run they’ll follow an’ track us… I don’t think Axsarenz would be too happy, d’ye? Ooh, I can’t wait to have a go at those foes and start a picnic. Wish I’d used some of my Rayfire grease, would’ve done a lot of good… ah well. Least my blade’s honed. Wonder if they have any food to share? Maybe we could serve up a few fresh steel and Rayfire crystal sandwiches. Can’t they drive that tub any faster? Hurry up, ye cowards! Ye have some people over here who want t’send ye t’the devil! Yoo-hoo! Hellooooo! Can ye hurry up already? I’ve booked a crew load of foes and cowards to join the Devil, doncha know. The room service is five stars! Booked by me ‘n’ the Devil himself!”
These last few sentences were addressed at the ship, which was rapidly gaining on us. I cupped my hands around my mouth to be heard against the slight breeze that had sprung from nowhere. I did a lot of waving and gestures as well, including a very rude one, which I did in plain view of everyone.
“Look, he can’t wait to get started!” Mattalin muttered to Eva.
“I heard that y’know, Mattalin! Thank ye, they can’t wait to have a picnic, here they come! Yoo-hoo! We’re still waitin’! Jo?”
The abrupt change of subject didn’t seem to disturb or throw Jo off the rails with surprise.
“I agree! Right, crew; ready the cannons, two t’ a cannon! All the rest, prepare to fight! Get your bows an’ arrows or javelins, we need t’fire a few volleys before we fight blade to blade t’ reduce their numbers!” Jo roared. “Rupert, are you armed?”
“T’ the teeth, Cap’n!”
“Get down from the nest; if the Queen’s soldiers climb up there ye’ll be trapped. That’s an order!” Joel added when Rupert opened his mouth to argue. “
He turned and disappeared to go and drop anchor.
After descending the rigging I followed Joel. When I found him he had thrown the anchor into the depths. The Seapecker jerked suddenly.
“It doesn’t look too bright, Troy. That ship looks huge.” Joel started when I’d arrived. “Are you a dead shot with those jarrows of yours?”
“I never miss, mate.”
“Then go an’ join Winfred. But first I need to ask… y’know that oath you swore to Gavin, that ye would kill him?”
“I don’t ever forget my oaths, Joel.” I replied softly through gritted teeth.
He stared across at the ship with me. “I’ll help ye keep it. Ye’re the best mate I’ve ever had in my life. Least I can do.”
I didn’t reply.
“I’ll get my javelins and join ye,
I did as I was bidden as my old comrade looked anxiously over at the fast approaching ship.
I loosed three jarrows from my horizontal bow. I had three more flying through the air before the others had landed.
“Good shot, Rayfire!” Winifred commented. “With those clompers ye call jarrows it must be hard to aim!”
I loosed another two shafts in deadly unison, hearing two screeches of pain from the foes ship.
“It ain’t hard at all, Winifred.”
“Take aim, first rank - ungh!”
“Get t’the back!” I bellowed at Winifred, wheeling around. “Call your orders from there!”
A foe found this the perfect distraction to aim an arrow at my neck. But these guys weren’t quite as good with a bow an arrow as some people I knew. A huge burst of pain erupted in my higher back, dangerously close to my throat. But before the soldier could point this out to his cowardly little pals my dagger had taken him down. I had the blade unsheathed and flying through the air before he could draw another breath. So fierce and quick was my throw the soldier had only just loosed the arrow that was in my back before he fell, with a dagger in between his eyes. The crew of the Seapecker gawped in awe at me. The foes looked in horror at their slain comrade.
Ignoring her bleeding shoulder with the arrow protruding out of it, Winifred asked, “Are ye all right,
“I’ll live. Lucky for me that guy wasn’t good at aimin’ with arrows. It was my fault really. I shouldn’t’ve turned my back on them. I was a fool, forgettin’ that in my haste. ‘Twas one of the first things I was taught…”
Knowing I’d say no more, seeing as I had returned to archery, Winifred called out, “Loose shafts! Back! Reload! Second rank, forward! Loose shafts! First rank, forward! Second rank, reload!”
By now the snarling faces of the soldiers were in plain view. I loosed a jarrow once more and it caught a soldier in the throat. The Seapecker’s crew continued gamely on.
It began then; my mouth was opening and yelling threats. It seemed to spur me on, keep me going - glances of admiriation shot in my direction, but I ignored them and continued howling over the calm ocean waves. Rage coursed through my veins. Here were the people who served under Sophia the Tyrant. Here were the people who’d slain, lied, thieved, betrayed and maimed for no reason. My eyes were blazing now, with an uncontrollable wrath. I’d felt it many times before and I didn’t try stopping it, because I knew it was hopeless. Nothing could stop it. All of the Seapecker’s crew saw this and they backed away from me, knowing that now a rage was coursing through my veins, unstoppable, never dying rage, knowing that I’d give no quarter...
The nearest crewmembers were at least two metres away. I figured they didn’t want to get in the way.
I had eyes for none but the enemy, the evildoers of the Empire. Several of the foes saw this too, the cowards. They took in my face. They took in my yelling, which was beginning to hurt my lungs and throat, and their eyes widened in horror.
It seemed like an age, just letting a steady rage overcome me as my blazing eyes searched the foe’s ship. I was now silent. Slinging the quiver of jarrows from my back, I dumped them on the deck. The thud seemed stentorian to my ears as my longbow followed. S-l-o-w-l-y, I unsheathed Rayfire, watching the sunrays dancing eerily on the blade. I bowed my head, trying vainly to stem the rage, but it just kept coming, pouring in thick and fast. I was shouting again, but I didn’t know what I was shouting. My hands were gripping the rail of the deck, harder and harder, my knuckles bone white.
On Rayfire’s blade, midst dabbled sunrays, a piercing green eye surveyed me, and a voice echoed in my head; just a single word.
“Lead.”
The voice was melodious and commanding. After a moment of total nothingness, I was confused and wholly reluctant. I wanted to yell, “I can’t. I won’t.” Over and over. I was also sorely tempted to spring into the calm ocean below and end it all…
No. Do it.
I can’t…
You can…
I won’t…
But…
No! Do it. Just do it… You can… DO IT…
Tearing my gaze from the blade, I surveyed the foes. They fled, they jumped into the bitter embrace of the sea, and they hid. But they couldn’t hide. The vessel was now a spear’s length away. I felt the flames rear up, higher; my hands were shaking with rage. I had made up my mind. I was going to lead. I had no other choice. I was meant to lead the charge and I was going to get it over with.
A hand on my shoulder, and another voice: “We’re all waitin’ on your word,
Whipping my head around, I found Eva as the speaker. She flinched when I met her eye, but she held it and smiled. “We’re waitin’.”
The Seapecker’s crew had gone very pale and Mattalin breathed, “Oh my God.”
She’s just one of those people who can say something, even in the most odd and pathetic situations – no matter how serious. A little bit like me.
It was hard, trying to speak reassuringly in such a frenzy, so I decided to say as little as possible – in short, say nothing at all. I managed a humourless smile, and hoisted myself effortlessly upwards so I was standing deftly on the deck’s rail. Pointing Rayfire forward, a flash of sunlight glinting on the fabled weapon, I eyed down the blade. I felt as if I was a puppet; the word seemed to roll out of my mouth, almost unwillingly. The foes wailed in terror and even a few fainted.
“Chaaaaaaaaaaaarge!”
Several rather naïve foes leapt now onto the Seapecker’s deck in an attempt to jump into the sea, and were brought down swiftly by swords and daggers. By now several of the Seapecker’s crew did the same; they leapt onto the deck of the opponent’s ship and fought perilously. But I was first. Pouncing onto the deck like a wildcat, I began to seek the prey; I didn’t spare anything. I just leapt over to the ship with Rayfire unsheathed before the Seapecker’s crew had managed to grasp their weapons. As my battle cry rent the air for a second time, even more foes leapt off the ship into the depths as they saw my thunderous face and my blazing green eyes.
“He’s – he’s a monster…!” Cried Mattalin in horror, though I barely heard her as the battle began.
Daggers, swords, spears, pikes, sabres, rapiers, cutlasses, shields, bows and arrows met with a clash. Cannons sent metal messengers smashing into the wood of the vessels. I roared out my battle cry, searching for Jo. I couldn’t see him anywhere. I summarised he’d be somewhere else slaying a team of foes to his hearts desire. When my clump of foes all lay slain, I’d leap into another clump and slay even more. The crew of the Seapecker were weighed down with numbers. Cannons blasted, swords flashed, daggers stabbed, spears thrust, pikes whirled, sabres slashed, rapiers parried, cutlasses flew through the air, shields clanged, bows strangled and arrows soared through the autumn air. The whole scene was chaos, and I was in the midst of it, the massacre, unable to stop. I could’ve willed myself to stop; I could’ve tried. But I didn’t. It never worked that way. I was possessed at that moment and I was to stay possessed until the end. That was my curse. Nothing could break it. Nothing or no one. I was lost in the boiling waves or anger, despite the calm sea below.
A foe leapt at me to the left, as did a foe to my right. I disarmed a nearby foe with a quick flick of Rayfire and stabbed upwards at either one. Both fell to the deck, slain.
Heaving Rayfire out of the carcass, I continued my tirade, the blade awash with sea spray and blood. It seemed to me that I was the only one on the foe’s vessel, Redfang. Everybody else seemed to be on the Seapecker, defending it from the foes as they tried to get themselves onboard. I ducked, I slashed, I parried, I thrust, and I darted lightly on the balls of my feet, Rayfire little more then a blur. It was then another member of the Seapecker’s crew suddenly joined me: Eva.
“Are ye OK?” She yelled above the noise – the cannons and the wails and the splashes.
“Aye. I’m – fine!” I replied through gritted teeth, wheeling around and dealing a foe a thwack in the eye with Rayfire’s hilt, causing him to stumble backwards onto a dirk held by a grim Rupert, who had leant over from the Seapecker; both vessels kept on jostling each other, they were so close.
Eva dispatched a foe easily as we separated, arrows whining through the air. The surviving foes halted suddenly and started screeching and the news spread around the vessels like wildfire.
“The ship’s s-s-sinkin’!”
“We’re all goin’ t’ die! I’m only twen’y-one! Let me carry on livin’, I beg of ya!”
“Over to the other ship, what’sits name, Seathingy!”
“Get away from da lunatic! He’s bananas!””
The news quickly spread. The foes ship was sinking.
Several of the cowards that crewed the foes ship leapt onto the good old Seapecker to save their cowardly lives, but a whole mob of the crew was waiting for them. Soon afterwards, carcasses littered the ocean waves.
The more cowardly foes decided to leap into the ocean to swim away. Arrows and javelins swiftly brought them down before they had even managed to swim a few strokes.
I was about to follow Eva onto the Seapecker when out of the corner of my eye I saw a limp figure with dark brown hair and a navy blue tunic in the cabin. Guards had heavily guarded it. At least that what it had looked like; I had merely assumed that there was some loot, booty, or whatever you called it. But now I realised the reason was because these guys knew who the captain of the Seapecker was.
“
I ignored the shout from the Seapecker and dived into the cabin, sheathing Rayfire as I went. I was getting weaker now; I was rapidly loosing blood from my arrow wound.
“Jo!”
The cabin was almost completely flooded with water now. Jo was somewhere beneath all that water, senseless or dead? I didn’t know. Time was running out. The water was at my neck. In a few seconds it’d be above my head.
I dived. My back stung as soon as it was submerged, as if a lightning bolt was striking my back mockingly, joyously, stabbing me with each chance. But I wasn’t focusing on my back. And I wasn’t focusing on the water that surrounded me, the murky green-grey depths that I was plunging through, or on the fact that my open eyes weren’t seeing anything aside from occasional glimpses of the cabin, the deck, the figure as the ship was embraced like an old friend by the vast bottomless depths of the sea. I was focusing on the life of a comrade, and this was the only chance I had.
Snatching Freefoe from the floor of the cabin I hacked away at the thick chains that held Jo to the walls of the cabin. They were stiff and extremely thick, about the width of my fist. My oxygen was running out; I had to get Jo out of here. My whole body was numb with the piercing cold, but I barely noticed both the lightning bolts of pain and the needle jabs of iciness. Thinking furiously, I unsheathed Rayfire and slashed through the chains. The useless stumps and trail of chain slunk into the ocean, weaving a path no different to a defeated snake. My oxygen was almost out. Tugging Jo free from the now severed chains and holding Rayfire horizontally in my mouth, I began to swim swiftly from the cabin, Freefoe clutched in my hand. Lights began to dance behind my eyes. My lungs were screeching for air. My whole back was on fire, but I had no time to worry about that as Jo was almost tugged from my grasp by the currents. I managed to hold on to the scruff of his neck before he followed the rapidly disappearing deck. My salt-rimmed eyes made out a glimmer of sunlight - not much further to go… Water filled my ears, and with an almighty effort I put on a last burst of speed -
WHOOSH!
I gulped in the beautiful, clean, fresh, life-giving air. Heaving Jo onto my back, sinking slightly under the sudden weight and removing Rayfire from my mouth and into my hand with Freefoe, I called out to the Seapecker, “One Cap’n comin’
onboard!”
Several brutal orders followed this statement.
“Huh, don’t come ridin’ back too soon, ye scum!”
“Show y’self!”
I sighed before replying, “Troy Rayfire here, with Joel Hilltye, senseless, on my back, I’m bound to Rayfire blood, oaths and vows of old, present and future and – Hell!”
A surviving soldier had swum up beneath me and was pulling me under, begging for his life.
“Help me! Help me, please, get me onboard - I don’t wanna die! Please, sir!”
As soon as he saw my face he noticed he had asked the wrong person. He tried to swim awkwardly away but he never made it.
I cracked his skull, slaying him with a blow from Freefoe, but in the process dropped Rayfire. It began to sink to the depths below.
I wasn’t the only one who was seeking to slay.
A dorsal fin of blue-grey was streaking towards me. I had Jo on my back and I couldn’t fight with him in the water. With each moment the phantom predator drew closer, sensing my blood.
Several of the Seapecker’s crew saw this as they leant over the rail surrounding the deck. A gasp arose from the crowd as they watched my trusty and bloodstained weapon sinking down through the icy water. But a huge fearful gulp came from the crew when they saw the shadow of the predator, seeking more prey to complete its grisly feast. A whole host of them came streaming in now; dozens of predators dived down into the deeps to claim their victims.
“THROW A LINE DOWN FOR YOUR CAP’N!”
My request was swiftly followed. Securing the rope around Jo’s middle using several complex knots known only to myself, I gave a curt nod to the deck above. Jo began to be hauled upwards, head lolling, soaking; unaware of the danger I was in.
With each passing second my strength was slowly ebbing away, yet I couldn’t call for a line or the shark would charge while I was being hoisted upwards. Plus, I wasn’t just going to leave Rayfire. Imagine if I were to arrive before Axsarenz without the sabre! Man, I’d be toast – although I should’ve been toasted years ago, with the way I attract trouble.
The entire time the shark had been advancing forward towards me and I’d never torn my gaze from it, knowing that if I did I would be slain. Trouble? Let’s call this a goddamn mess. I was going to be the starters for this shark’s repast. Just my luck!
The mighty phantom shape charged. I charged right back. When I was centimetres from the fatal jaws, three rows of lethal slayers, I dived after taking an almighty inhale of oxygen. Bubbles whooshed past me and I could feel the water thrum as the shark followed, getting closer by the moment. How I kept on going in my particular state I never knew. My legs were burning; my arms were slacking rapidly as I pressed onwards through the mighty torrents and swells of the depths of the sea, desperation loaning speed to my limbs.
Then I saw it.
Altering course, going to the left, I zigzagged towards it, over slain foes and friends alike, who had been thrust overboard, mortally wounded – or worse.
My lungs were screaming, wailing for air, but I couldn’t satisfy them yet. How deep I’d gone I had no way of knowing.
Seizing Rayfire’s hilt, I thrust blindly upwards as I log rolled onto my back. Water whooshed up my nose. More phantom shapes bulled forwards now, at the huge shark, obviously their Chieftain of some sort. I was the last thing on the shark’s minds, and Rayfire was torn from my failing grasp by the merciless currents.
The water became alive with the monstrous predators of awesome size. Blood and thrashing sharks that dug their teeth into the flesh and bone of their leader caused the massacre and were in the centre of it. The water was vibrating, thrumming madly as the sharks, giant predators of the deeps, barged forwards to take a share of the meal.
Speckled spots of colour filled my closed lids as I craved for air. The water began to turn a shade of murky brown as blood leaked from the long-dead carcass of the Chieftain shark. I began to thrash my arms and legs, trying to swim yet when I did I couldn’t get very far due to the water I was trying to plough through. I couldn’t see the surface or the sun, just blood, phantom shapes and figures.
One shark, slower then the rest, bulled into my back and sent me flying forwards as fast as the water would allow. Soon afterwards its tail slapped me forcefully on the back of the head, late for its dessert with its comrades.
As pain exploded in my skull, something gently nudged my arm as it made its journey to the surface. With my last reserves of strength, I managed to hook my exhausted fingers around it.
My oxygen ran out then, and I was rushing through the deep seas of blackness.
This website is hosted for free by  .
Get your own
Free Website now!
|