Hello all! I've been travelling a lot lately, finding myself in locations that do not often offer the greatest conditions for hopping on the server. However, I have found and made time to write, which I've been enjoying quite a bit.
Those of you who persevere through my... less than adequate writing can offer critique, since that is the only reason I'm deciding to post it in this forum! If you're here in hollowworld you likely share my nerdiness for fantasy! Woohoo or boohoo for you.
Critique however you please, though longer explanations are preferred over the basic "Wow you should... stop. Just no more." Though that might be beneficial and the most true of any post. I am looking for honest criticism though. My hide is tough when it comes to that sort of thing, so I will not be holding it against you. If it is a positive critique, some diamond found in the rough, please also point that out. Not because I want a moral boost but that helps me know what to do later on as well. I need to know the things to avoid and aim for.
Last of all, and perhaps the worst part... If I get to posting more than one chapter, you might see many alterations of the same chapter in my attempts to improve based upon your critiques as well as my own. That means the dedicated of you will be so sick of the chapter by its completion that you will not even begin the rest! Yipee!
I lied, its not the last of all! Please refrain from unnecessary posting... like "Ooo I'm gonna watch this!" which of course would be great! But there is a little 'Watch' tab at the top... and I need to claim spots for future posts.
Now without further ado... I shall post the nearly completed (though in need of editing) chapter one.
~The Return~
Prologue
Chapt. 1 "Only a Boy"
Those of you who persevere through my... less than adequate writing can offer critique, since that is the only reason I'm deciding to post it in this forum! If you're here in hollowworld you likely share my nerdiness for fantasy! Woohoo or boohoo for you.
Critique however you please, though longer explanations are preferred over the basic "Wow you should... stop. Just no more." Though that might be beneficial and the most true of any post. I am looking for honest criticism though. My hide is tough when it comes to that sort of thing, so I will not be holding it against you. If it is a positive critique, some diamond found in the rough, please also point that out. Not because I want a moral boost but that helps me know what to do later on as well. I need to know the things to avoid and aim for.
Last of all, and perhaps the worst part... If I get to posting more than one chapter, you might see many alterations of the same chapter in my attempts to improve based upon your critiques as well as my own. That means the dedicated of you will be so sick of the chapter by its completion that you will not even begin the rest! Yipee!
I lied, its not the last of all! Please refrain from unnecessary posting... like "Ooo I'm gonna watch this!" which of course would be great! But there is a little 'Watch' tab at the top... and I need to claim spots for future posts.
Now without further ado... I shall post the nearly completed (though in need of editing) chapter one.
~The Return~
Prologue
The Krosves isles were terrible sights to behold in the light of day. The ravaging storm made matters only worse. The crags of Gravden jutted out of the roiling ocean, waves smashing endlessly on the jagged stone spires. Raging winds whistled through the crags, filling the air with eerie screams. In the distance over the storming sea two other masses towered up from the waves, Silfalla and Roq, their dark silhouettes illuminated by flashes of lightning in the clouds far above. Amidst the turmoil, five cloaked figures marched down a steep stairway hewn into the cliff side.
Elethion watched the two sentinels that walked before him, two more following behind. Each was clothed in thick grey robes, shielding them from the wind’s onslaught. Carrying iron torches, the sentinels walked in silence, the flames whipping this way and that, casting conflicting shadows upon the stone. They walked slowly and in perfect unison, matching Elethion’s slow and feeble steps. All four were young and could have made it down the steps long ago to find shelter from the storm at the harbor which awaited them. Instead he guarded carefully as if he were some precious glass that would shatter with one misstep.
A sentinel spoke softly from behind Elethion. “We will soon be there, Saydranas.”
“Thank-you, Vaithra,” Elethion said. “The journey would have been hopeless without your help.”
“And we without you, Saydranas,” the sentinel replied, voice filled with respect.
It seemed ages before Elethion reached and descended the final steps, arriving on a flat, narrow strip of rock. Before them a small bay gave refuge to several sleek vessels that rocked back and forth on the calmer waters. Only one ship was docked at a small wharf that broke away from the ragged shore.
The ship was smaller than its larger cousins in the bay. Only two masts rose from it where the others boasted three to four. Several figures were hustling about the deck, preparing the ship for its departure. Unlike those in the bay however, the ship hardly swayed upon the water, the waves breaking apart before they could reach its hull. Elethion approached a couple hooded figures that were looking over some crates, his sentinels in tow.
“Children.” He spoke, his voice low and rattling. Breathing had become a chore for him, forcing each breath of air.
They swiveled on their heels, each placing their right arm across their own chest and lowering their covered heads in a small bow.
“You need not bow before me, children.” Elethion waved his arm, weary of the amount of respect his people showed him. “Lift your heads. It is to you whom we shall someday owe thanks.”
Both lowered their arms, lifting their heads to look at him. The dark hoods covered much, but Elethion could see the pitch black faces that stared back at him, the whites of their eyes stark in contrast to the black that surrounded them. Each face was sharp and angled, as if it’d been delicately carved of obsidian. These were his people, his children, the Esterni.
To Elethion’s right was a male, his shoulders broad and powerful, his face grim. He’d likely been a child when his people fled distant shores so long ago. Kaepro. Elethion remembered each of Esterni he’d taught. Kaepro had shown much promise in the years on Gravden, and Elethion did not doubt him being the most prepared for the task ahead.
The other was a woman, shorter thinner than her companion. Two thin white markings ran down from the corners of her eyes, disappearing beneath the fabric of her robes. Ashna had been born on the isle, too young to have seen anything of their distant homelands that she now ventured for. Elethion was not eager to send her off, so unprepared for the world that awaited them beyond the isles. But she was the last to receive the gift, an omen that he could not refuse. She had to go.
“My children, I’ve come to see you off,” Elethion continued, growing cold as the wind continued to swirl around them, rain assailing them from every direction. “There are no words with which I can comfort you. The journey will be the long, and time is not your ally. Should you fail,” he gazed at them both equally, and they back at him, “there will be little hope for any. Do not fail us.”
“We will not fail you, Saydranas,” the male spoke, his voice toneless.
Elethion’s eyes caught a light flare up on a distant crag as someone lit the beacon. A voice cried out from the ship. “The signal!”
Elethion returned his gaze to the two. “And now you depart. May the wind guide you safely, and may we see each other soon on the shores of our home.”
“Farewell, Saydranas.” Each bowed again before him before lifting a crate and carrying it to the ship. Moments later triangular sails were loosed from the rigging, grabbing the wind as the final ropes were hauled on board. The waves still broke before they reached the ship’s hull, the water calm as the boat glided forward, only to rear up once more when it had past.
Saydranas. Teacher. Elethion hoped he taught them well. It was not long before the light of the ship faded behind the waves and into the shadow of the storm. A cold wind blue south.
Elethion watched the two sentinels that walked before him, two more following behind. Each was clothed in thick grey robes, shielding them from the wind’s onslaught. Carrying iron torches, the sentinels walked in silence, the flames whipping this way and that, casting conflicting shadows upon the stone. They walked slowly and in perfect unison, matching Elethion’s slow and feeble steps. All four were young and could have made it down the steps long ago to find shelter from the storm at the harbor which awaited them. Instead he guarded carefully as if he were some precious glass that would shatter with one misstep.
A sentinel spoke softly from behind Elethion. “We will soon be there, Saydranas.”
“Thank-you, Vaithra,” Elethion said. “The journey would have been hopeless without your help.”
“And we without you, Saydranas,” the sentinel replied, voice filled with respect.
It seemed ages before Elethion reached and descended the final steps, arriving on a flat, narrow strip of rock. Before them a small bay gave refuge to several sleek vessels that rocked back and forth on the calmer waters. Only one ship was docked at a small wharf that broke away from the ragged shore.
The ship was smaller than its larger cousins in the bay. Only two masts rose from it where the others boasted three to four. Several figures were hustling about the deck, preparing the ship for its departure. Unlike those in the bay however, the ship hardly swayed upon the water, the waves breaking apart before they could reach its hull. Elethion approached a couple hooded figures that were looking over some crates, his sentinels in tow.
“Children.” He spoke, his voice low and rattling. Breathing had become a chore for him, forcing each breath of air.
They swiveled on their heels, each placing their right arm across their own chest and lowering their covered heads in a small bow.
“You need not bow before me, children.” Elethion waved his arm, weary of the amount of respect his people showed him. “Lift your heads. It is to you whom we shall someday owe thanks.”
Both lowered their arms, lifting their heads to look at him. The dark hoods covered much, but Elethion could see the pitch black faces that stared back at him, the whites of their eyes stark in contrast to the black that surrounded them. Each face was sharp and angled, as if it’d been delicately carved of obsidian. These were his people, his children, the Esterni.
To Elethion’s right was a male, his shoulders broad and powerful, his face grim. He’d likely been a child when his people fled distant shores so long ago. Kaepro. Elethion remembered each of Esterni he’d taught. Kaepro had shown much promise in the years on Gravden, and Elethion did not doubt him being the most prepared for the task ahead.
The other was a woman, shorter thinner than her companion. Two thin white markings ran down from the corners of her eyes, disappearing beneath the fabric of her robes. Ashna had been born on the isle, too young to have seen anything of their distant homelands that she now ventured for. Elethion was not eager to send her off, so unprepared for the world that awaited them beyond the isles. But she was the last to receive the gift, an omen that he could not refuse. She had to go.
“My children, I’ve come to see you off,” Elethion continued, growing cold as the wind continued to swirl around them, rain assailing them from every direction. “There are no words with which I can comfort you. The journey will be the long, and time is not your ally. Should you fail,” he gazed at them both equally, and they back at him, “there will be little hope for any. Do not fail us.”
“We will not fail you, Saydranas,” the male spoke, his voice toneless.
Elethion’s eyes caught a light flare up on a distant crag as someone lit the beacon. A voice cried out from the ship. “The signal!”
Elethion returned his gaze to the two. “And now you depart. May the wind guide you safely, and may we see each other soon on the shores of our home.”
“Farewell, Saydranas.” Each bowed again before him before lifting a crate and carrying it to the ship. Moments later triangular sails were loosed from the rigging, grabbing the wind as the final ropes were hauled on board. The waves still broke before they reached the ship’s hull, the water calm as the boat glided forward, only to rear up once more when it had past.
Saydranas. Teacher. Elethion hoped he taught them well. It was not long before the light of the ship faded behind the waves and into the shadow of the storm. A cold wind blue south.
The sun blazed high above the island village of Esterview, throngs sea birds soaring above as a warm wind blew in from the east. Bright azure water glittered in the sun, waves gently lapping at the wharfs of the small port. Docked in the harbor was a lone wooden vessel, its three tall masts gently swaying to and fro as the ocean waves beat against the ship’s hull. Sailors could be seen carrying heavy crates on and off deck. These sailors had clearly been weeks at sea, their drab garments soiled and stained, thick with the smell of sweat and ocean salt.
Lying adjacent to the harbor was Esterview’s only square, lined with well stocked stalls, vendors selling goods to both sailors and villagers alike. The stalls were covered with colored canvases that gave the market a bright and festive appearance. Shuffling villagers seemed to sort themselves between rich and poor as each attended to their own needs. The finely clothed, boasting flamboyant colors of red, yellow and green, would flock to stalls bearing silver and gold trinkets from the mainland while drab fishermen and farmers shuffled about grabbing the bare necessities.
Amongst the crowd was Raz, strolling around with his head down, unnoticed by most as they went about their business. Only on occasion would someone single him out in the crowd, a sort of disgusted expression spreading across their faces with whispers of, “Grey-skin.”
Ignoring such comments, Raz moved on down his path, ducking under the stinking sailors and side stepping around the frenzy rich women as a vendor revealed some rare silver pieces from the mainland. Raz wasn’t interested in any of that. His eyes were set upon the fruit stand just ahead.
From here he could see a boulder of a man sitting on a stool that was on the verge of snapping. His multiple chins were resting upon his expansive gut, his squat eyes closed and a long and boisterous snore escaped from his mouth. While the oaf dozed, Raz witnessed more than one thieving fellow snatch an orange, apple or any other fruit from the stand as they passed by. The fat vendor should’ve known better.
Raz fell in line with a shuffling group of villagers eyeing the stalls as they meandered on by. The less conspicuous he could be, the better. Just because several others were doing the same didn’t mean the villagers would let some grey-skin get away with it.
Reaching over, Raz grabbed a bright red apple, feeling its smooth, perfect skin upon his palm. Suddenly a bell chimed from behind him, a booming voice shouting out over the hum of the crowd.
“Hear ye Hear ye, more border disputes have risen between the kingdom and the Dresni-“
Raz ignored the rest, he didn’t care what the town crier had to say. Flicking his gaze towards the vendor, he found himself looking right into the man’s sleepy but open eyes. Raz had hardly pulled away the apple before the fat man had fully realized what was happening and jolted up from his chair, hurling insults and lumbering towards Raz.
“Why you lil ashen shit! What are you doing with that, eh?!” he yelled, veins popping out on his on his hairless scalp.
Raz ran for it, not bothering to give an answer, gripping the apple in his grey hand. It would be easy for him to escape the large man, the trouble would be getting around on the villagers. Bobbing and weaving he dashed around and through the stalls in the market square, woman squeaking and men swearing as he sped by.
Eventually he broke free from the mass of stalls and people out onto the main road of the village. The only road in fact. All the village homes and buildings were crowded along the road’s edges, where fewer villagers were moving this way and that as they tended to their daily routines.
Raz didn’t stop, hearing some loud cursing coming in his direction. Sprinting down the dusty main road, his bare feet raised plumes of dust in their wake. The passing villagers scrambled from his path, both distaste and surprise lingering upon their faces. Raz laughed as he sprinted further, making his escape. Before him an old man tripped over himself in, scuttling to escape Raz’s path. He landed on the road with a thud, face reddening from both shock and anger.
Leaping over the man, Raz didn’t miss a beat, landing with ease on the beaten path. Slackening his pace, he stopped to look back at the man, assuming his former pursuer had been lost or given up. His new adversary’s once neat, crimson clothes were covered in dirt and he angrily brushed them off as he rose to his feet, turning to scowl at Raz. “You filthy Grey-skin. I swear I’ll set the guards on you one of these days.”
A smirk playing on his face, Raz retorted, “Go wake them up then, and try not to trip on your way ther-.” He quickly fell silent, smirk falling from his face in slight disbelief. Behind the fallen man, pushing through the crowd was the fruit vendor. His bald head had turned deep shade of red, sweat beading and dripping down his enraged face, his tunic clearly moist.
The burly man howled as he came closer, voice strained from over exertion. “You lil git! I’m gonna find one of dem slave-ships and give you to ‘em for free, I swear it!” Raz could hardly believe how red the man’s face was getting. Even more unbelievable was how the man had made it ten paces from his market stall without collapsing from a heart attack.
“Suppose I’d have to pay them to take you, huh?” Raz’s smirk returned with his clever jest, masking his surprise at the brute’s appearance. The vendor turned an even deeper shade of red after the taunt, reminiscent to the apple Raz had stolen. If he could get any redder Raz believed the man would burst.
With an angry grunt the oaf charged the grey-skin, groping forward with thick, slow arms. Raz promptly threw the apple high up over the man, its red skin reflecting the sunlight. The oaf slowed, his gaze following the soaring fruit, a dumb expression spreading across his face as it sailed overhead. Raz seized the moment and darted forward, dodging left around the man and neatly catching the apple on the opposite side.
Without pause, Raz kept on running. After a few moments he cast a glance over his shoulder to see if the vendor was still in sight, but there was no sign of the man, though there was a string of ornate expletives bellowing out over the crowd. The vendor had almost caught him off guard once, he wouldn’t allow it to happen again so once he was certain the vendor would not see him he veered off into a narrow passage between the village homes. Only village miscreants like himself tread upon these narrow passages.
Relaxing, Raz pushed away a clump of black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. The sun was blotted out by the thatched eaves of the homes that flanked the small path. The homes themselves were un-extraordinary, all of them made of rough wood exteriors that promised splinters should Raz decide to run a hand along them. They were also built off the ground, saving the floors from rot during the wet season; these gaps were boarded up to prevent pests from taking refuge beneath. A grey-skin was one of those pests, but unlike the alley rats, Raz was able to pry the boards loose, though it was no easy task.
Raz followed the length of the homes and shacks grouped side by side, their backs to the village wall. The village wall was twice as tall as he was, though it was nothing more than erected logs stuck into the earth. The thin gaps between the logs gave small glimpses of the thick jungle beyond. Running adjacent to the wall was a much longer, though still narrow path that cut left and right behind the homes, parallel to the main road. Raz hooked right on this path and came across an old rain barrel, its wooden slats beginning to rot away from years of neglect.
Raz approached the barrel, feeling hot and sweaty after his escape. The water was clear, but Raz’s sharp eyes could see tiny insects swirling about in its depths, not that he really cared. Upon the surface of the water, staring back at him, was a dark eyed boy.
The boy’s hair was black and disheveled, pointed ears almost hidden amongst the mess. His face was young, thin and dirty, not more than eighteen years of age by the looks of it. Yet these things were the least interesting parts of the reflection staring back at Raz. The skin pulled taut against his face was an ashen grey, for Raz was not human, not like the villagers moving in the street nearby anyways. The villagers and sailors in Esterview were not eager to let him forget it either; Grey-skin, Soot, Filth, being only some of the names Raz had been given.
Breaking his stare with himself, Raz plunged his face deep into the barrel, the water cool upon his hot skin. Surfacing, he wiped the water from his eyes. Next he plunged his arms into the water, the apple floating to the surface as he let it go, rubbing the filth from his forearms. Raz could feel the small boney ridges that lay beneath his skin, yet another trait of a Grey-skin, comparable to the crests of sand beneath the ocean.
Giving his head a thorough shake, Raz swept his damp hair back and plucked the bobbing apple from the rain barrel. Plunging his teeth into the tart, crispy fruit, he started back down the path, enjoying the meal as he followed the wall’s edge.
Far down the path, poking out above the peaks of the other village homes was a chimney stack. That was Raz’s destination, and he plodded steadily along towards it, out of sight to the villagers who strolled along the main road just beyond the houses. He’d chosen Esterview’s grandest home to reside under. Lord Crother’s house was hardly a spectacle to behold, but in comparison to those around it, the Crother home was massive.
Lord Crother had come from the mainland kingdom of Kreevy which Esterview belonged to. Raz imagined the other lords of the far off land had simply sent the dithering fool to Esterview to get rid of him. He could hardly blame them for their choice, in fact, he was thankful for it. To his delight the Lord had sent plans for his home ahead of him, demanding a larger house than the village had to offer. Crother had wanted everything bigger. Bigger rooms, bigger windows, it all had to be better than those around it. The home’s construction had been the talk of the town for a whole year, but Raz didn’t care about the windows or rooms or any of that; no, what had delighted him was its height. It was still a single story, like all the other buildings in town, but Lord Crother had ordered the home to be built on taller stilts, giving an extra hand’s width for Raz to move about below and while that did not seem much, it made a substantial difference. He’d moved in well before Lord Crother and his wife, Marlane Crother, had even arrived in Esterview.
Raz looked carefully about as he continued towards the Crother home. This particular portion of his path was where Wafi liked to sojourn in the evening. It was still a bit early, but Raz felt on edge, not wanting to cross the sordid ex-sailor.
Wafi was a slender, tanned man that had been abandoned by his crew on the isle long ago, and there was little wonder as to why. Wafi was more akin to a rat than a human, always poking about in business that was not his own. Worse than that was his ill-temper which could be brought about by any matter of things, at any given time. That ill temper had struck out at Raz more than once, so he made it daily task to avoid the man. To Raz’s dismay, as if his thoughts had summoned the man, Wafi loomed out from behind a corner.
“Rassy my little grey freak.” Wafi spoke as if he had a particularly pleasant secret that no one else knew. “Apple eh? That’s nice, but it seems you didn’t grab one for you good friend Wafi, hmm?” He sauntered forward, slowly drawing nearer to Raz.
“Sorry.” Raz replied, keeping his voice down, eyes following the man’s every step.
Wafi scoffed. “Sorry? Ha, don’t lie you little bastard.” The man leaned against the wall to his right, his lip curled. “But tell you what, I’ll let you go this once, just give me what’s left and promise to fetch me something more next time you go taking that which isn’t yours.” He leered over Raz though he couldn’t have been more than a head taller.
Raz looked down at the half eaten apple that he’d gone through so much trouble for. It still wasn’t worth it.
“Fine.” He stuck out his palm, and Wafi snatched it from his palm, giving it a bite.
“Mmm, there’s a good Grey-skin. Now scram, I don’t want your ugly face spoiling my meal.”
Raz went on without a word, not bothering to look back to see if Wafi followed. He could hear the former sailor just fine, nibbling away on what had been Raz’s prize.
With an inward sigh, Raz now trudged along, melancholy over his defeat. He’d escaped a beating, but he knew he’d have an empty stomach for the rest of the day. All the vendors would be keeping a closer eye on their wares now.
Raz found himself near the red bricked chimney shortly after. The construction made little sense to him, in truth, he found it made no sense at all. The isle was no stranger to storms, but no matter the case it was always warm. Nevertheless Crother was a firm believer in extravagance and the chimney was good for nothing if not that.
Stooping, Raz plucked two boards away from the nails they were hinged upon, crawling into the space beneath and returning the boards to their upright position. Making certain they were firmly set in place again, he turened about, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Sunlight flitted between some cracks in the boards on the far side, but he did not need the light to see. Before long he could make out the few possessions he’d gathered in his latest venture into Esterview.
A rucksack lay upon the flattened earth where he slept. In it were oils, paper, a few miscellaneous bits of metal and some shattered glass, all of which Raz had either stolen or scavenged in the past few days. He’d found that money was useless to him. The villagers would probably accuse him of stealing any coin should he dare approach a stall to purchase anything. Beside the rucksack lay three small leather pouches. Two of them were filled and sealed, the last lay flat and empty. Sand. Raz would fill the final pouch tonight and make his journey to the other side of the isle in the morning.
Raz didn’t live permanently in Esterview. On the other side of the isle lived an elderly woman, Alba. She’d taken care of Raz for as long as he could remember and was the only human he could abide. She often needed supplies from Esterview and Raz’s particular skills meant he was the one to collect them. It was also the only place on the isle with an open beach where Raz could collect the sand she so often requested, since most of the isle met the ocean with sharp and nearly impassable cliffs.
As he moved about in the darkness, Raz’s stomach groaned. The few bites from the apple only served to make him feel more deprived of a meal. He would just have to sleep off the hunger, so with another sigh he laid down, looking to the floor boards above him. They were tightly spaced, giving little sight into the home above. Despite his limited view into the world above, Raz likely knew more than any villager about the happenings in Lord Crother’s home. More than each Crother probably knew.
Lord Crother was the only lord Raz had ever seen. There were no others that bothered to make the long voyage to the island.
Lord Crother was a tall, middle-aged human, but despite his height the man was of similar shape to an egg with a round, balding head placed at its top. He always wore rich apparel reds and blues, the Crother symbol, a rooster, embroidered on the cloth. Raz failed to understand how a rooster could be a family crest, nonetheless how Lord Crother could be so proud of such a pathetic animal.
Lord Crother’s wife, Marlane, in contrast to her husband, was the prettiest woman on the isle, though Raz speculated there wasn’t much to compete with. He had seen many men stare after her longingly in the market and had heard almost as many in the house above when Lord Crother was away. Despite the woman’s better appearance, she was just as much a weasel as her husband. Raz knew so much yet none of it mattered. The villagers would call him a liar and run him down before he could get two words out.
Yawning, Raz stretched and closed his eyes. Soon he would be back in his own bed, free from the village and all its people. For now, he would wait for night to descend.
***
Raz awoke to a heavy thud on the floorboards above him, followed by an angry but muffled voice. Slivers of a dim, dancing light pierced the tiny spaces between the floor boards. Night had fallen on Esterview and Raz figured the muffled voice must’ve been Lord Crother.
It did not take long for him to discover what had caused the noise either, a small drop of liquid dripping onto his forehead. It smelled of wine. If Lord Crother already dropped his cup in the room above he’d been drinking for a while now, which meant Raz had over slept.
The nightly routine in the house above was known all too well. Lord Crother’s next cup would bring about strange stamping and shuffling foot falls which was Lord Crother wobbling about in some strange drunken dance. After this would come a clang or crash as he knocked over some object, which led to the flurry of footsteps as a furious Marlane rushed into the room, yelling from both parties ensuing. While Raz had initially enjoyed listening in on these events, the commodity of it had long since run its course. Now it was his cue that night had fallen.
Sitting up sluggishly, Raz yawned again. He’d slept much harder than he’d planned only finding himself wanting more of it. That, however, was not an option. Too many days had been spent in the village already, and a far better bed was waiting for him across the isle. Picking up the empty pouch, Raz moved for his exit as Mr Crother’s footsteps shuffled away into another room in the house above.
The passage was now blanketed in shadow, and Raz crawled from his hole, placing the boards carefully so as not to disturb the silence. Looking down the narrow passage he saw nothing but the silhouette of rat scurrying through a gap in the village’s wooden wall.
Moving along he took the nearest left and found himself on the main road of the village. It seemed much smaller without any villagers bustling about upon it. The village became more or less a ghost town when the sun disappeared.
The road was illuminated by two moons that hung high in the clear night sky. The first was large, glowing a milky white, while the other seemed far away and distant, glowing a dull red. The Siblings is what Alba often referred to them as. Surrounding them were hundreds of stars, shining like small holes through a black canvas.
The village buildings were dark, and Raz saw that only a few had candles shining from behind the windows. No one had bothered to light the torches that dotted the road, the moonlight being enough for any that might walk the path at this time of night.
This was one of Raz’s rare moments when he was happy to be in the village. A silence enveloped Esterview at night and Raz felt alone and free to move as he pleased. The only place alive at this time of night was the harbor’s tavern, the Eastern Vix, where most sailors found respite after long voyages at sea.
Sailors weren’t the only folk to visit the bawdy house; Raz had often caught sight of a certain Lord stumbling about the building, the working girls sauntering about with him. In the Vix , enough coin made anything possible.
Raz neared the end of the road, the village market sprawling out before him, now abandoned. Beyond it lay the harbor. He’d heard talk of the harbors on the mainland where thousands of vessels could dock at once without want of more space. In Esterview there was enough space for three ships, but to even see the wharfs filled would be a rare thing. The lone ship was still docked. The Saga frequented the isle often and he’d seen it come into port two days back, the day after he himself had come to Esterview.
Raz moved towards the village’s eastern wall that ran beside the market, leading out a few paces into the sea. The waves had battered the logs here, leaving them twisted, tilting and broken like an old man’s teeth. On the opposite side of the harbor stood the tavern, a single torch illuminating the sign where a few figures stood, talking.
Raz had no business there, and he slipped through the broken wall and away from Esterview. Beyond the wall, spread before him, was a narrow sandy beach dotted with numerous boulders. The beach was bordered by a thick green jungle.
Strolling calmly through the water that rose and fell at his feet, Raz made his way to the center of the beach. Moving further up onto the shore, he sat in the multi-colored sand. In the pouch he found a few grains that it had held previously, a light red in color. Knowing where to begin, he started to pluck up small red specks of sand and placing them into the bag. The waves’ crashing soon lulled him into a mindless state as he performed the task, time slipping away. All else was silent.
***
The stars had completed much of their nightly orbit and Raz’s sand pouch was half full when his sand plucking trance was broken by a cool blast of wind that rushed against his face. Surprised, he turned his gaze to the north from which it’d come. There, far off in the distance, a great dark cloud was creeping forward, and another cold gust of wind swept over Esterview.
Raz rose to his feet, puzzling how such a front had snuck up unnoticed. Beneath the looming clouds Raz could see the ocean waves rising to ever increasing heights then buckle and crash under their own weight. A flash of light erupted from the clouds above, and in that brief moment he swore he saw two masts unlike any he’d seen before exposed behind the roiling waves. No captain would dare risk their vessel in such a storm.
Whatever the case, a storm was on its way, and that meant Raz had to hurry back to Lord Crother’s home and grab his supplies before it all was soaked. A dry bed would be waiting on the other side of the isle. Alba would have to accept the half empty pouch.
Sealing the bag of sand with a bit of string, Raz hurried down the beach, shooting a fleeting look back at the coming storm. Another flash illuminated the strange masts again, there was no denying that. There were only two and both appeared broken or bent, yet the sails beneath were unordinary as well, as if the masts had been designed that way on purpose.
As interested as he was, Raz turned his back on the storm and slipped through the village wall. Something was wrong with the coming storm, Raz could feel it. Esterview had always been warm, but for the first time, Raz was cold.
Lying adjacent to the harbor was Esterview’s only square, lined with well stocked stalls, vendors selling goods to both sailors and villagers alike. The stalls were covered with colored canvases that gave the market a bright and festive appearance. Shuffling villagers seemed to sort themselves between rich and poor as each attended to their own needs. The finely clothed, boasting flamboyant colors of red, yellow and green, would flock to stalls bearing silver and gold trinkets from the mainland while drab fishermen and farmers shuffled about grabbing the bare necessities.
Amongst the crowd was Raz, strolling around with his head down, unnoticed by most as they went about their business. Only on occasion would someone single him out in the crowd, a sort of disgusted expression spreading across their faces with whispers of, “Grey-skin.”
Ignoring such comments, Raz moved on down his path, ducking under the stinking sailors and side stepping around the frenzy rich women as a vendor revealed some rare silver pieces from the mainland. Raz wasn’t interested in any of that. His eyes were set upon the fruit stand just ahead.
From here he could see a boulder of a man sitting on a stool that was on the verge of snapping. His multiple chins were resting upon his expansive gut, his squat eyes closed and a long and boisterous snore escaped from his mouth. While the oaf dozed, Raz witnessed more than one thieving fellow snatch an orange, apple or any other fruit from the stand as they passed by. The fat vendor should’ve known better.
Raz fell in line with a shuffling group of villagers eyeing the stalls as they meandered on by. The less conspicuous he could be, the better. Just because several others were doing the same didn’t mean the villagers would let some grey-skin get away with it.
Reaching over, Raz grabbed a bright red apple, feeling its smooth, perfect skin upon his palm. Suddenly a bell chimed from behind him, a booming voice shouting out over the hum of the crowd.
“Hear ye Hear ye, more border disputes have risen between the kingdom and the Dresni-“
Raz ignored the rest, he didn’t care what the town crier had to say. Flicking his gaze towards the vendor, he found himself looking right into the man’s sleepy but open eyes. Raz had hardly pulled away the apple before the fat man had fully realized what was happening and jolted up from his chair, hurling insults and lumbering towards Raz.
“Why you lil ashen shit! What are you doing with that, eh?!” he yelled, veins popping out on his on his hairless scalp.
Raz ran for it, not bothering to give an answer, gripping the apple in his grey hand. It would be easy for him to escape the large man, the trouble would be getting around on the villagers. Bobbing and weaving he dashed around and through the stalls in the market square, woman squeaking and men swearing as he sped by.
Eventually he broke free from the mass of stalls and people out onto the main road of the village. The only road in fact. All the village homes and buildings were crowded along the road’s edges, where fewer villagers were moving this way and that as they tended to their daily routines.
Raz didn’t stop, hearing some loud cursing coming in his direction. Sprinting down the dusty main road, his bare feet raised plumes of dust in their wake. The passing villagers scrambled from his path, both distaste and surprise lingering upon their faces. Raz laughed as he sprinted further, making his escape. Before him an old man tripped over himself in, scuttling to escape Raz’s path. He landed on the road with a thud, face reddening from both shock and anger.
Leaping over the man, Raz didn’t miss a beat, landing with ease on the beaten path. Slackening his pace, he stopped to look back at the man, assuming his former pursuer had been lost or given up. His new adversary’s once neat, crimson clothes were covered in dirt and he angrily brushed them off as he rose to his feet, turning to scowl at Raz. “You filthy Grey-skin. I swear I’ll set the guards on you one of these days.”
A smirk playing on his face, Raz retorted, “Go wake them up then, and try not to trip on your way ther-.” He quickly fell silent, smirk falling from his face in slight disbelief. Behind the fallen man, pushing through the crowd was the fruit vendor. His bald head had turned deep shade of red, sweat beading and dripping down his enraged face, his tunic clearly moist.
The burly man howled as he came closer, voice strained from over exertion. “You lil git! I’m gonna find one of dem slave-ships and give you to ‘em for free, I swear it!” Raz could hardly believe how red the man’s face was getting. Even more unbelievable was how the man had made it ten paces from his market stall without collapsing from a heart attack.
“Suppose I’d have to pay them to take you, huh?” Raz’s smirk returned with his clever jest, masking his surprise at the brute’s appearance. The vendor turned an even deeper shade of red after the taunt, reminiscent to the apple Raz had stolen. If he could get any redder Raz believed the man would burst.
With an angry grunt the oaf charged the grey-skin, groping forward with thick, slow arms. Raz promptly threw the apple high up over the man, its red skin reflecting the sunlight. The oaf slowed, his gaze following the soaring fruit, a dumb expression spreading across his face as it sailed overhead. Raz seized the moment and darted forward, dodging left around the man and neatly catching the apple on the opposite side.
Without pause, Raz kept on running. After a few moments he cast a glance over his shoulder to see if the vendor was still in sight, but there was no sign of the man, though there was a string of ornate expletives bellowing out over the crowd. The vendor had almost caught him off guard once, he wouldn’t allow it to happen again so once he was certain the vendor would not see him he veered off into a narrow passage between the village homes. Only village miscreants like himself tread upon these narrow passages.
Relaxing, Raz pushed away a clump of black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. The sun was blotted out by the thatched eaves of the homes that flanked the small path. The homes themselves were un-extraordinary, all of them made of rough wood exteriors that promised splinters should Raz decide to run a hand along them. They were also built off the ground, saving the floors from rot during the wet season; these gaps were boarded up to prevent pests from taking refuge beneath. A grey-skin was one of those pests, but unlike the alley rats, Raz was able to pry the boards loose, though it was no easy task.
Raz followed the length of the homes and shacks grouped side by side, their backs to the village wall. The village wall was twice as tall as he was, though it was nothing more than erected logs stuck into the earth. The thin gaps between the logs gave small glimpses of the thick jungle beyond. Running adjacent to the wall was a much longer, though still narrow path that cut left and right behind the homes, parallel to the main road. Raz hooked right on this path and came across an old rain barrel, its wooden slats beginning to rot away from years of neglect.
Raz approached the barrel, feeling hot and sweaty after his escape. The water was clear, but Raz’s sharp eyes could see tiny insects swirling about in its depths, not that he really cared. Upon the surface of the water, staring back at him, was a dark eyed boy.
The boy’s hair was black and disheveled, pointed ears almost hidden amongst the mess. His face was young, thin and dirty, not more than eighteen years of age by the looks of it. Yet these things were the least interesting parts of the reflection staring back at Raz. The skin pulled taut against his face was an ashen grey, for Raz was not human, not like the villagers moving in the street nearby anyways. The villagers and sailors in Esterview were not eager to let him forget it either; Grey-skin, Soot, Filth, being only some of the names Raz had been given.
Breaking his stare with himself, Raz plunged his face deep into the barrel, the water cool upon his hot skin. Surfacing, he wiped the water from his eyes. Next he plunged his arms into the water, the apple floating to the surface as he let it go, rubbing the filth from his forearms. Raz could feel the small boney ridges that lay beneath his skin, yet another trait of a Grey-skin, comparable to the crests of sand beneath the ocean.
Giving his head a thorough shake, Raz swept his damp hair back and plucked the bobbing apple from the rain barrel. Plunging his teeth into the tart, crispy fruit, he started back down the path, enjoying the meal as he followed the wall’s edge.
Far down the path, poking out above the peaks of the other village homes was a chimney stack. That was Raz’s destination, and he plodded steadily along towards it, out of sight to the villagers who strolled along the main road just beyond the houses. He’d chosen Esterview’s grandest home to reside under. Lord Crother’s house was hardly a spectacle to behold, but in comparison to those around it, the Crother home was massive.
Lord Crother had come from the mainland kingdom of Kreevy which Esterview belonged to. Raz imagined the other lords of the far off land had simply sent the dithering fool to Esterview to get rid of him. He could hardly blame them for their choice, in fact, he was thankful for it. To his delight the Lord had sent plans for his home ahead of him, demanding a larger house than the village had to offer. Crother had wanted everything bigger. Bigger rooms, bigger windows, it all had to be better than those around it. The home’s construction had been the talk of the town for a whole year, but Raz didn’t care about the windows or rooms or any of that; no, what had delighted him was its height. It was still a single story, like all the other buildings in town, but Lord Crother had ordered the home to be built on taller stilts, giving an extra hand’s width for Raz to move about below and while that did not seem much, it made a substantial difference. He’d moved in well before Lord Crother and his wife, Marlane Crother, had even arrived in Esterview.
Raz looked carefully about as he continued towards the Crother home. This particular portion of his path was where Wafi liked to sojourn in the evening. It was still a bit early, but Raz felt on edge, not wanting to cross the sordid ex-sailor.
Wafi was a slender, tanned man that had been abandoned by his crew on the isle long ago, and there was little wonder as to why. Wafi was more akin to a rat than a human, always poking about in business that was not his own. Worse than that was his ill-temper which could be brought about by any matter of things, at any given time. That ill temper had struck out at Raz more than once, so he made it daily task to avoid the man. To Raz’s dismay, as if his thoughts had summoned the man, Wafi loomed out from behind a corner.
“Rassy my little grey freak.” Wafi spoke as if he had a particularly pleasant secret that no one else knew. “Apple eh? That’s nice, but it seems you didn’t grab one for you good friend Wafi, hmm?” He sauntered forward, slowly drawing nearer to Raz.
“Sorry.” Raz replied, keeping his voice down, eyes following the man’s every step.
Wafi scoffed. “Sorry? Ha, don’t lie you little bastard.” The man leaned against the wall to his right, his lip curled. “But tell you what, I’ll let you go this once, just give me what’s left and promise to fetch me something more next time you go taking that which isn’t yours.” He leered over Raz though he couldn’t have been more than a head taller.
Raz looked down at the half eaten apple that he’d gone through so much trouble for. It still wasn’t worth it.
“Fine.” He stuck out his palm, and Wafi snatched it from his palm, giving it a bite.
“Mmm, there’s a good Grey-skin. Now scram, I don’t want your ugly face spoiling my meal.”
Raz went on without a word, not bothering to look back to see if Wafi followed. He could hear the former sailor just fine, nibbling away on what had been Raz’s prize.
With an inward sigh, Raz now trudged along, melancholy over his defeat. He’d escaped a beating, but he knew he’d have an empty stomach for the rest of the day. All the vendors would be keeping a closer eye on their wares now.
Raz found himself near the red bricked chimney shortly after. The construction made little sense to him, in truth, he found it made no sense at all. The isle was no stranger to storms, but no matter the case it was always warm. Nevertheless Crother was a firm believer in extravagance and the chimney was good for nothing if not that.
Stooping, Raz plucked two boards away from the nails they were hinged upon, crawling into the space beneath and returning the boards to their upright position. Making certain they were firmly set in place again, he turened about, allowing his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Sunlight flitted between some cracks in the boards on the far side, but he did not need the light to see. Before long he could make out the few possessions he’d gathered in his latest venture into Esterview.
A rucksack lay upon the flattened earth where he slept. In it were oils, paper, a few miscellaneous bits of metal and some shattered glass, all of which Raz had either stolen or scavenged in the past few days. He’d found that money was useless to him. The villagers would probably accuse him of stealing any coin should he dare approach a stall to purchase anything. Beside the rucksack lay three small leather pouches. Two of them were filled and sealed, the last lay flat and empty. Sand. Raz would fill the final pouch tonight and make his journey to the other side of the isle in the morning.
Raz didn’t live permanently in Esterview. On the other side of the isle lived an elderly woman, Alba. She’d taken care of Raz for as long as he could remember and was the only human he could abide. She often needed supplies from Esterview and Raz’s particular skills meant he was the one to collect them. It was also the only place on the isle with an open beach where Raz could collect the sand she so often requested, since most of the isle met the ocean with sharp and nearly impassable cliffs.
As he moved about in the darkness, Raz’s stomach groaned. The few bites from the apple only served to make him feel more deprived of a meal. He would just have to sleep off the hunger, so with another sigh he laid down, looking to the floor boards above him. They were tightly spaced, giving little sight into the home above. Despite his limited view into the world above, Raz likely knew more than any villager about the happenings in Lord Crother’s home. More than each Crother probably knew.
Lord Crother was the only lord Raz had ever seen. There were no others that bothered to make the long voyage to the island.
Lord Crother was a tall, middle-aged human, but despite his height the man was of similar shape to an egg with a round, balding head placed at its top. He always wore rich apparel reds and blues, the Crother symbol, a rooster, embroidered on the cloth. Raz failed to understand how a rooster could be a family crest, nonetheless how Lord Crother could be so proud of such a pathetic animal.
Lord Crother’s wife, Marlane, in contrast to her husband, was the prettiest woman on the isle, though Raz speculated there wasn’t much to compete with. He had seen many men stare after her longingly in the market and had heard almost as many in the house above when Lord Crother was away. Despite the woman’s better appearance, she was just as much a weasel as her husband. Raz knew so much yet none of it mattered. The villagers would call him a liar and run him down before he could get two words out.
Yawning, Raz stretched and closed his eyes. Soon he would be back in his own bed, free from the village and all its people. For now, he would wait for night to descend.
***
Raz awoke to a heavy thud on the floorboards above him, followed by an angry but muffled voice. Slivers of a dim, dancing light pierced the tiny spaces between the floor boards. Night had fallen on Esterview and Raz figured the muffled voice must’ve been Lord Crother.
It did not take long for him to discover what had caused the noise either, a small drop of liquid dripping onto his forehead. It smelled of wine. If Lord Crother already dropped his cup in the room above he’d been drinking for a while now, which meant Raz had over slept.
The nightly routine in the house above was known all too well. Lord Crother’s next cup would bring about strange stamping and shuffling foot falls which was Lord Crother wobbling about in some strange drunken dance. After this would come a clang or crash as he knocked over some object, which led to the flurry of footsteps as a furious Marlane rushed into the room, yelling from both parties ensuing. While Raz had initially enjoyed listening in on these events, the commodity of it had long since run its course. Now it was his cue that night had fallen.
Sitting up sluggishly, Raz yawned again. He’d slept much harder than he’d planned only finding himself wanting more of it. That, however, was not an option. Too many days had been spent in the village already, and a far better bed was waiting for him across the isle. Picking up the empty pouch, Raz moved for his exit as Mr Crother’s footsteps shuffled away into another room in the house above.
The passage was now blanketed in shadow, and Raz crawled from his hole, placing the boards carefully so as not to disturb the silence. Looking down the narrow passage he saw nothing but the silhouette of rat scurrying through a gap in the village’s wooden wall.
Moving along he took the nearest left and found himself on the main road of the village. It seemed much smaller without any villagers bustling about upon it. The village became more or less a ghost town when the sun disappeared.
The road was illuminated by two moons that hung high in the clear night sky. The first was large, glowing a milky white, while the other seemed far away and distant, glowing a dull red. The Siblings is what Alba often referred to them as. Surrounding them were hundreds of stars, shining like small holes through a black canvas.
The village buildings were dark, and Raz saw that only a few had candles shining from behind the windows. No one had bothered to light the torches that dotted the road, the moonlight being enough for any that might walk the path at this time of night.
This was one of Raz’s rare moments when he was happy to be in the village. A silence enveloped Esterview at night and Raz felt alone and free to move as he pleased. The only place alive at this time of night was the harbor’s tavern, the Eastern Vix, where most sailors found respite after long voyages at sea.
Sailors weren’t the only folk to visit the bawdy house; Raz had often caught sight of a certain Lord stumbling about the building, the working girls sauntering about with him. In the Vix , enough coin made anything possible.
Raz neared the end of the road, the village market sprawling out before him, now abandoned. Beyond it lay the harbor. He’d heard talk of the harbors on the mainland where thousands of vessels could dock at once without want of more space. In Esterview there was enough space for three ships, but to even see the wharfs filled would be a rare thing. The lone ship was still docked. The Saga frequented the isle often and he’d seen it come into port two days back, the day after he himself had come to Esterview.
Raz moved towards the village’s eastern wall that ran beside the market, leading out a few paces into the sea. The waves had battered the logs here, leaving them twisted, tilting and broken like an old man’s teeth. On the opposite side of the harbor stood the tavern, a single torch illuminating the sign where a few figures stood, talking.
Raz had no business there, and he slipped through the broken wall and away from Esterview. Beyond the wall, spread before him, was a narrow sandy beach dotted with numerous boulders. The beach was bordered by a thick green jungle.
Strolling calmly through the water that rose and fell at his feet, Raz made his way to the center of the beach. Moving further up onto the shore, he sat in the multi-colored sand. In the pouch he found a few grains that it had held previously, a light red in color. Knowing where to begin, he started to pluck up small red specks of sand and placing them into the bag. The waves’ crashing soon lulled him into a mindless state as he performed the task, time slipping away. All else was silent.
***
The stars had completed much of their nightly orbit and Raz’s sand pouch was half full when his sand plucking trance was broken by a cool blast of wind that rushed against his face. Surprised, he turned his gaze to the north from which it’d come. There, far off in the distance, a great dark cloud was creeping forward, and another cold gust of wind swept over Esterview.
Raz rose to his feet, puzzling how such a front had snuck up unnoticed. Beneath the looming clouds Raz could see the ocean waves rising to ever increasing heights then buckle and crash under their own weight. A flash of light erupted from the clouds above, and in that brief moment he swore he saw two masts unlike any he’d seen before exposed behind the roiling waves. No captain would dare risk their vessel in such a storm.
Whatever the case, a storm was on its way, and that meant Raz had to hurry back to Lord Crother’s home and grab his supplies before it all was soaked. A dry bed would be waiting on the other side of the isle. Alba would have to accept the half empty pouch.
Sealing the bag of sand with a bit of string, Raz hurried down the beach, shooting a fleeting look back at the coming storm. Another flash illuminated the strange masts again, there was no denying that. There were only two and both appeared broken or bent, yet the sails beneath were unordinary as well, as if the masts had been designed that way on purpose.
As interested as he was, Raz turned his back on the storm and slipped through the village wall. Something was wrong with the coming storm, Raz could feel it. Esterview had always been warm, but for the first time, Raz was cold.
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