River's Journey

by Arthurs, Nia

  River’s Journey

  Nia Arthurs

  COPYRIGHT

  First published in Belize, C.A. 2016

  Copyright © Nia Arthurs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be circulated in any writing of any publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book has been produced for the Amazon Kindle and is distributed by Amazon Direct Publishing.

  Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars?

  He brings them out like an army, one after another, calling each by its name.

  Is.40:26

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Part I

  ~

  Chapter 1

  1802, Central American Coast

  The ship rode on a wave, rocking me gently the way human mothers cradled their children. The salty spray arched into the sky, flinging mist over my face and hair.

  Heavy winds rushed through the sails, creating a song that belonged only to the sea. The stars above glittered like jewels, obnoxiously cheery in the darkness.

  I looked North, searching for just a glimpse of home. Even with my heightened vision, the star I sought was too far away. I sighed and settled into the hammock.

  If only I could peel back the sky like a scroll. How refreshing it would be for just one glimpse.

  Alas, all I had were my memories and the never-ending desire to one day gaze upon my home.

  Since arriving on this planet three hundred years ago, I’d caught snatches of a familiar landscape in the heavens.

  When the sky was clear and the clouds made room, I fancied that I could see straight into the innards of my pod.

  My longing was so strong, however, that I hesitated to trust my sight. On those clear, bright nights I could never be certain if the star was truly there or if my imagination created the fantasy.

  Still I was grateful for even those fabricated moments. Though I saw no way back home, I never despaired.

  It was not in my right to complain or to question Fate. The unfolding events that had led me to this place were too extravagant to be coincidence.

  Two hundred years ago, my ship landed in the Joseon Dynasty. I, along with seven chosen researchers dismounted, collected information to study as was done on every star, and explored the terrain.

  On that expedition, I made a fatal error. I was drawn to a female in distress and became caught up in the affairs of man.

  While I tended to a family attempting to sell their daughter for seeds, my ship returned home without me.

  In the end, though I gave the family their seeds and returned the daughter safely to her father, I later learned that she had been sold anyway.

  I had become involved and as a result had lost my ship.

  But even then I did not linger long on sorrow.

  Instead I adapted to this planet’s environment, donning the appearance and dress of the humans around me.

  The days rolled by–one after the other. I continued to live, understanding that my presence on earth was not a mistake.

  As more and more of the abilities that were commonplace on my star became revered on this one, I marched forward, as resolute as time.

  It was only on these nights, staring up at the expanse of the sky, that I allowed a strain of discouragement to invade my system.

  Doubt whispered in my ear and tugged the cold surface of my heart, chipping away at the wall of indifference that I’d fashioned.

  Would I ever return home?

  A drop of water flickered on my nose. I heard the steady thud of a heartbeat. My eyes darted to the left where a shadow loomed with a large water bucket.

  I tensed, waiting for the assailant to step closer. At the very last minute, I slid out of the hammock. Water splashed against the empty net that swung between two posts.

  A young man with bright yellow hair and blue eyes cursed and stomped his foot on the planks, allowing the bucket to fall with a thud.

  “How do you do that?”

  His awe-filled voice reminded me of my first few days on this planet.

  During my tenure on earth, I travelled to lands that were both intriguing and frightening. At first, I’d been entranced by humans.

  Their desire to be the best, to be recognized, to protect and love filled my thoughts for countless nights.

  As centuries rolled by, however, there was no evolution. The human need to be the best, to be recognized, to protect and love continued in the same trend wherever I set my foot.

  No matter the race, creed, ethnicity or age, they did not change. It was a rather disappointing discovery.

  Humans were devastatingly predictable. Their desire for safety, survival and love pushed them down roads that had been trod by countless of their ancestors.

  I’d long since become disinterested in getting to know individuals. Humans were all alike anyway.

  They lied when the situation called for it. They stole when their desire was great. They hurt when a wrong was done to them. Before they died, they trained their offspring to do the same.

  No, humans did not surprise me. Though I, on the other hand, intrigued them.

  “I said how’d you do it?” Thomas insisted.

  I stared at him, mentally reviewing his strange pronunciation of the ‘o’ vowel. I had taken it upon myself to learn every language, practicing the rolls of the tongue and the inflections of the throat until my speech could surprise the most indigenous speaker.

  “How do you do that?” I echoed, imitating his tone.

  “River, you’re bonkers!” The boy clutched his stomach and flipped into the hammock.

  “Thomas, you are bonkers!”

  The boy smiled and rocked in the swing. His youthfulness was clearly apparent, though the calluses on his hands belonged to a man twice his age.

  His story was tragic, but not uncommon. Thomas was an orphan with no family and no prospects. A year ago, he sold himself to Captain Abrams in exchange for food and lodging.

  The boy was satisfied with the exchange and Captain Abrams was glad for one less crew member to split the profits with.

  The moment he laid eyes on me, Thomas made it his business to ask me a million questions.

  At first, I ignored him. For most of my years on this planet, I pursued solitude the way males chased their mates. I was awaiting my return to the star and saw no need to attach myself to anyone.

  Thomas had been persistent and eventually, though I paid him no mind, I began to tolerate his presence.

  “I hate doing night watch,” the boy complained as he swung in the hammock. “I don’t know why you volunteer so much.”

  I tilted my head toward the sky, but remained silent. Thomas, familiar with
my reticence, chattered on.

  “I was trying to sleep, but the first mate kept snoring. I hate it when they drink. Nobody has any sense when they drink.”

  A small smile tugged at my lips.

  Once, in the company of a Joseon warrior, I tasted my first cup of alcohol.

  I did not remember much, but when I awoke the next morning, I’d been surrounded by angry villagers yelling ‘sorcerer’ and waving sharp pitchforks in the air.

  Apparently, I’d lost my wits and caused household items, and the warrior himself, to levitate. In the highly superstitious era, my abilities had not been appreciated.

  Thomas continued to speak as if I had responded.

  “That’s why I prefer to be around you. You never drink or try to push women on me.” Thomas made a face. “Girls are gross.”

  I grunted. As the years passed, I had absorbed more and more human patterns. My attraction to and interest in females, though easier for me to control, was just as strong as any other man.

  Armed with this understanding, I knew that Thomas would soon change his tune. He was young and his experiences had yet to expose him to the chemicals of ‘love’.

  “Anyway,” he swung the hammock, “I was thinking I could try to fix that mop in the storage closet so that I didn’t have to scrub the deck with my hands anymore. That would be great.”

  As he spoke, a sharp, deep rumble mixed with a low pulsing noise thundered through the air. I felt it more than I heard it.

  Thomas prattled on, but I stood to attention and waited for the sound to strike again. The noise pulsed once more. I closed my eyes and focused.

  “And that’s why I never go that far down because it’s really scary,” Thomas was saying.

  I shushed him and paced to the railing, gripping the wooden barricades that kept the crew from falling overboard.

  Angry, dark clouds roiled in the horizon, but the disturbance I heard did not come from the rain.

  I’d learned that sound travelled much faster in the water and my abilities allowed me to hear things that were several miles away.

  I was certain now that a ship was gunning for us. The only carriers that would approach so stealthily were pirates. The Gee Luis was a lone cargo ship loaded with tobacco, a prime target for pillagers.

  “Thomas,” I grabbed the boy’s scrawny shoulders, “wake the men! Tell them to approach the upper deck!”

  Thomas’s blue eyes widened and he scrambled out of the hammock. Grasping his tattered pants by the loops, the boy rushed below deck.

  My gaze scanned the ship. Sensing that no one else was around, I closed my eyes. When I opened them I was on top of the crow’s nest. Without a moment to spare, I rang the bell.

  The thud of booted feet climbing up the stairs below sprung to life. Dark brown heads crested the square hole as the crew filed out on each other’s tails.

  I quickly scaled the ropes, using my legs this time, and landed soundly on the planks. Captain Abrams pushed to the front.

  He was a tall, thick man with a bushy red beard and a moustache that curled on the ends. Captain Abrams was very proud of the hair above his lip and spent a large amount of time maintaining it.

  It was a strange practice for a sea captain, but I had come to expect such quirks from humans.

  “What is it?” he asked, his shirt flapping in the breeze, “what is it?”

  “Pirates! Pirates are approaching!” Thomas yelled.

  The crew mumbled beneath their breaths, clearly not convinced of the incoming threat. I sighed in disappointment.

  If the news had come from my mouth, it would have given more credence.

  My appearance though common in Korea was very exotic in Central America. Most of the sailors kept their distance, but gave me their respect.

  Thomas was a boy given to exaggerated stories and a wild imagination. His word held little weight. I scrambled to undo the damage.

  “He speaks the truth. They are approaching!”

  Captain Abrams spun slowly. His shrewd eyes perused the still horizon. The breeze ruffled the ends of his moustache. The quiet lapping of the water against the hull sung sweetly in our ears.

  The captain glanced at me and then returned his attention to the empty horizon. I knew before he spoke that he would dismiss my warning.

  “Where are they?” he twirled his moustache.

  I lifted my chin. “I’d say about ten miles off starboard.”

  The sailors laughed.

  Captain Abrams slapped me across the head. “Have you gotten into the cups, boy? Don’t ring the bell unless trouble is truly approaching!”

  With the captain’s dismissal, the sailors stumbled back to their slumber. I kept my gaze on the planks at my feet.

  I had done my duty.

  Throughout history, I’d insisted on helping humans to the point of endangering myself. Each time, they betrayed me or returned to the very situation I had rescued them from.

  I would honor my commitment to the crew and ring the bell when the pirates were visible. I only prayed that Captain Abram and his motley pack of drunken sailors would be ready to fight.

  Thomas approached me, fear in his eyes. We had all heard of the potency of the Caribbean pirates that prowled these waters.

  “Will you protect me, River?” he asked, his blue gaze intent upon my face.

  I said nothing. I no longer made promises to humans. He was on his own. Thomas hung his head and stood beside me, waiting for the pirates to attack.

  Chapter 2

  The outline of the incoming ship slipped into sight. I scaled the ladder to the crow’s nest and rang the bell.

  This time the men lumbered up the stairs from below deck at their own slow pace. By the time Captain Abrams set his foot on the planks, the pirate ship had its cannons prepared to shoot.

  It was not a fair battle.

  With the alcohol dulling the senses of nearly every sailor and the damage done to the hull by the pirate ship canons, the fight was over before it had begun.

  I felt no compassion as the pirates rowed their dinghies toward the Gee Luis. The crew grabbed for their swords while the sea dogs slung their ropes over the railings and climbed onto the deck.

  As shouts of pain and the sharp cry of swords clashed against one another, I debated joining the fight.

  If I unveiled my abilities, I could quickly defeat the pirates, but what harrowing events would spiral from the crew’s salvation?

  I had learned that what was meant to be would be, no matter how golden my intentions. Exposing my powers came with its own load of complications.

  While I contemplated the dilemma, a pirate snuck up behind me. At least he tried to. I heard his quivering heart and the thud of his boots before he even settled on a target.

  When he lifted his sword to cut me down, I spun around and kicked him solidly in the stomach.

  The man dressed in a black pantaloons and a ruffled white shirt was not prepared for my quick response.

  He stumbled backward and fell upon his sword. The gush of blood seeping from his wound was gory. I turned away from the sight of it.

  Why did humans insist on this pointless waste of energy? And for what? A bit of gold and brandy?

  “River!” a shout rang through the cloud of crashing swords and grunts of effort.

  Thomas?

  I moved before my better senses could remind me that I should not become involved. In the next second, I was by his side.

  The young crew member cowered in the crux of the ship. With his knees wrapped around his legs and his head down, he looked more like a child than I had ever seen him.

  A large pirate with a red and white handkerchief around his head and a wicked blade in his hand loomed over the boy. Blood stained his grey shirt and tattered blue pants. Someone else had fallen to this man’s hand tonight.

  Thomas would not be the next.

  I flew into a floor kick and swept the man off his feet. I felt the first drop of rain as I ran forward and grabbed the you
ng boy’s hand.

  “Retreat!” The surviving crew members of Gee Luis yelled into the night. “Retreat!”

  The heavens opened up then and deposited buckets of icy cold droplets on our heads. I pulled Thomas along as we weaved past the carcasses of fallen pirates and sailors alike.

  The ship groaned and leaned on its side, tilting us all and flinging some overboard. Thomas screamed. I looked up and found a large crate falling straight for us.

  Using my speed, I pulled us out of the way. Rain splattered against the deck, creating an even more treacherous ground as the ship angled further into the sea.

  The cries of drowning men joined the chorus of the splitting thunder. I lost my balance as Thomas and I catapulted forward.

  He slid away from me.

  “River! Help!”

  I scrambled to hold on to something, but the wet surface of the planks was too slick. I closed my eyes and pictured the spot that Thomas had been. When I opened my eyes, I was in the right place but Thomas was not.

  The dark rolling waves devoured the ship and I landed in the water.

  “River!”

  I heard Thomas’s frantic call. Rain slipped into my eyes and the sea invaded my mouth as I bopped in the suddenly angry waves. Where was he?

  The night was so dark. The rain splattering against the black waters created a film that made it even harder to see.

  I closed my eyes and focused, listening to the tones of his voice. I tried to gauge his position by concentrating on the direction of his words, but the desperate shouts of the pirates and sailors created a cloud of confusion.

  It was nearly impossible to pick out Thomas’s plea from the melee of cries for salvation.

  “Thomas!”

  “River!”

  The sound was faint; the sea was cold, and the rain was brutal.

  “Ri-”

  I splashed around, searching fervently for a blonde head amongst the dozens that swam for the canoes riding on the waves or the hands struggling to remain afloat.

  “No! Thomas! You have to keep calling! Keep––”

  In my crazed attempts to find the boy, I did not notice a crate freefalling from the last dregs of the Gee Luis until it was too late.