by L. M. Roth
On and on they whisked along, until they once again faced the open sea. Zoe lifted them out of the river and deposited them safely into the ocean current. By now they were all seasoned sailors, and found themselves anticipating with eagerness the beauty of the sunsets and sunrises, the sea breezes and the salty scent of the marine air. And the open horizon was more than welcome after a week spent in the enclosure of the mountainside. It was June and they were young and felt ready for whatever escapade befell them.
This was the state of affairs when they came to the island.
The day was fair, one of those rare days without a cloud to be seen. The sky was a pale blue almost white in its glaring light, and the sea was a shimmering silver calm, almost motionless. Had it not been for the current of the River Zoe carrying them along they would have lain idle.
With a calm sea and a cloudless sky, it was difficult to discern where the one ended and the other began. Which is why they nearly passed the island.
For hours they had not seen any sign of life. No leaping porpoises or flying fish had amused them with their antics; no breeze stirred the air around them or the water beneath them. It was as still and solemn as a wood in November after the birds have departed for the winter, and the trees dropped all of their leaves until the return of spring.
And then they heard it; faint at first, then gradually gaining in volume. Felix, who had the keen hearing of a fox, detected it before the others. He was in the midst of a lively debate with Dag regarding the meaning of laying down one’s life for a friend, as Alexandros taught.
“It means one must die so his friend may live,” Dag stated firmly. “It is clear.”
“No, it means more than that,” Felix insisted. “It should mean to give up even what is most precious to you, the very thing that is your reason to live, don’t you see?”
Dag shook his head and stood his ground. Felix tried to explain again.
“Take for example; two brothers inherit a small portion of land. It is not large enough to support the different crops they both want to plant, yet they each own half. Would it not be reasonable for one brother to give up his half so his brother can plant on the remaining portion and reap a bountiful crop instead of …”
Felix broke off his words, and a look of intense concentration came over his face.
Dag started to speak, but Felix motioned him to silence. He strained forward to listen.
“Do you hear that?” he whispered.
Dag and the others listened, but could hear nothing.
“Listen,” Felix said.
Still they heard nothing.
“Ah, you just can not win so you say you hear a noise,” Dag grinned at Felix.
“No! I hear…there! Now do you hear it?” he asked, looking around at the others.
Now they all heard. A voice of crystal clarity drifted to them from somewhere near at hand. It was a voice almost angelic in its beauty, singing in a tongue they did not know. It rose to heights of ecstasy, and sank to depths of despair. On each one of them it took hold, entrancing them, captivating them as if by a spell. It lilted in joy, and lulled in serenity, but it eluded them as they eagerly searched the horizon for its source.
“Quickly, we must find it!” Marcus shouted.
His zeal was matched by the others who longed to discover the source. All felt that they would never have peace for their soul again until they encountered the singer and learned the song.
At last they spied what at first seemed the hump of a whale lying on the ocean’s surface. As they drew closer to it, however, they saw that it was a tiny island, lying low in the water, nearly invisible until one happened upon it.
Their boat drifted along and finally came to rest in a small beach. The isle itself was flat, treeless, and composed of white sand so pure it resembled sugar, and in the blazing light of the clear sky and calm ocean they would have missed it completely had it not been for the song.
The song was now louder, filling their heads with its melody. They stumbled out of the boat, so mesmerized by the music that each wandered around. The unearthly light gave a further air of unreality to the island, and for a moment they felt as though they had stumbled into a dream.
Indeed, each of them felt as though the desire of their heart would be realized in this place of enchantment. All of them, one by one, as they wandered and separated from each other, felt that on this isle all of their dreams could come true.
What was that vision that beckoned just on the horizon?
“Mama! Papa!” Elena cried, tears of joy welling from her eyes as she ran to meet them.
Cort saw his parents also holding out their arms as they never had before. Kyrene saw the face of a friend who died of fever when she was only a child. Dag saw his lost love, Fanchon, running to meet him. But she disappeared before he could embrace her.
Marcus saw Tullia, standing straight and tall, waiting for him with one hand held out in greeting. He ran to take it, but she dissolved into nothing and he clutched at the air.
He turned and met Felix, whose face reflected his own despair, and wondered if he had beheld the same vision. For a moment his lips tightened and he wheeled away from the faded vision.
One by one they met with disappointment as the visions proved to be nothing more than illusions. The song had changed now, and seemed discordant, jarring on the ear.
Elena placed her hands over her ears to block the song. As she did so she looked downward and screamed.
“Asps!” she screamed. “This island is crawling with asps!”
And all of them saw what they had missed before, under the spell of the song; slithering asps, dozens of them, all of them heading for the little band of travelers.
“Head for the boat, but keep your faces to the snakes,” Marcus ordered.
Moving almost imperceptibly they backed up to where they left the tiny boat. The asps followed them, now rising threateningly. The song, they realized, had stopped.
Upon reaching the boat they did not board it in their usual manner, but waded into the water with it, where one by one they seated themselves, then felt the current carry them away.
“Praise be to Dominio for His protection!” Kyrene rejoiced. “Those asps were meant to be the death of us!”
Marcus agreed with a bitter shake of his head.
“I am to blame for our near demise,” he said. “We should never have followed a voice that is unseen. That is what happened to Chloe, who listened to the voice in the Waterfall of Wisdom. Surely the Astra lured us to this evil place under a spell of temptation. Indeed, they are probably the asps in one of their forms. We must pay heed and take care not to fall for such tricks again.”
The others agreed, and watched the horizon carefully for any hidden perils on the silent expanse of the sea.
Chapter XVI
Isle of the Flaming Flowers
They knew the day would be hot and sultry. The sun had risen in a ball of flame so red that is seemed as if the sky itself was on fire. Already this morning they were perspiring and their robes clung to them like wet towels used after the baths.
The July weather had been mild so far with fine days and smooth seas. Marcus didn’t mind if the day was hot so long as it was fair. They had been at sea for more than a month and eagerly watched for a sign of land.
The long days had tested their tempers as they were continually in one another’s company, with no amusement to divert them. Felix attempted to lift everyone’s spirits with games of wit, and Kyrene entertained them with long sagas about the heroes of her homeland in Solone. Cort became fretful at the inactivity, and Marcus himself longed to walk on land again. Dag never complained, but kept an eye on the horizon for perils, while Elena sulked at the boredom, and declared she could not bear to eat one more fish.
Their only pleasure was in the spectacular sunsets and sunrises that are only to be glimpsed at sea. Sunsets of violet waves and orange clouds that looked like an image from a fancy, with sunrises that featured rose-tinge
d clouds piled so high from the sea that they looked as though they would climb to the heavens themselves.
The day came at last when they spied a break in the line of the horizon. Actually, they were several masses in a chain of islands. Excitement broke out among them as they anticipated a respite in their voyage.
“Is it a large island, or a small one?” Cort inquired. “I hope it is enormous so I can spend an hour running around it!”
“I wonder whether it is inhabited, and what its people are like?” Felix commented.
“And if they are amicable,” Marcus added.
“Yah,” Dag agreed. “That would be good!”
“I hope there are no asps,” Elena shuddered.
Kyrene put a comforting arm about her.
“We will take whatever adventure Dominio sends us,” she said, with eyes sparkling with excitement.
“You do not fear danger?” Elena wondered, in a tone of doubt.
“I do not like danger,” Kyrene confessed, “but it is more to my liking than boredom, which I had in plenty in Solone! So, I will enjoy the exciting escapades of my travels before I return home once more to the monotony and safety of dull routine.”
Felix chuckled in appreciation. Marcus also admired Kyrene’s daring spirit. He realized he would miss her when the time came for her to leave them. When would that be, he wondered? When their task was accomplished? Or was it possible that she and Felix…
Marcus was suddenly diverted in his musings by a glance at Elena. Her black eyes were flashing at Kyrene, and her lips were tightened to a straight red line. He was puzzled by the girl from Esperanza, so docile on the surface, with hidden fire just below. Did she merely attain to a demure veneer as became maidenly modesty, or was she really deceptive and kept her true nature hidden from the world?
A cry from Dag disturbed his meditations.
“Land!” he called out.
And there arose from the sea a large island with a conical peak at its far edge. The terrain was rugged, yet covered in a lush green. Surrounding the island were smaller ones of varying size, some of them, those closest to the island, were as jagged as the main island. The outlaying islands were flatter, but still a lush green.
To the weary little band of voyagers they were a sight as welcome as a refreshing rain on a hot summer day. With a sky of cerulean blue dotted with fluffy white clouds overhead, it seemed as if paradise itself beckoned to them with arms opened wide, and they were more than willing to accept the invitation.
They came to the nearest isle, a small one of perhaps a mile in circumference. They opted to debark here and stretch their cramped legs as well as scout the lay of the land before proceeding.
They drifted into a natural harbor bordered by strange trees. They were clearly visible from their boat, with trunks that bulged outward, then grew upward. They had no branches except at the top which billowed out in fringes of feathered fronds.
As the boat came into shore, the turquoise waters paled to aqua, then peridot green. Where the beach met the water it turned from green to white, reflecting the tiny white pebbles on the beach. For it was not sand that they trod upon but a hard white substance consisting of pebbles, reminiscent of the white stones that were abundant near the house of Xenon on the Isles of Solone.
The hills rose ahead of them and eagerly they walked or ran in their direction, delighted to exercise and explore. Here and there they glimpsed the wildlife of the island; low-lying reedy green plants, trees that bore a strange kind of purple fruit that resembled a plum, but was larger and tasted first sweet and then sour, and the oddest of all was a flower that resembled the flames of a fire. It was yellow at its center, and spewed out long spiky petals of orange that darkened to red.
After their first tour of the island they returned to the boat, where they held a council to determine a plan of action.
“Shall we make camp here tonight, or leave and explore the rest of the islands?” Marcus asked.
“I vote we leave and explore the rest of the islands,” Felix answered promptly. “For there is no sign of life here and we must have been sent to this place for a reason. But it is not on this island.”
“I say we camp here a bit,” Dag disagreed. “It is good to feel land once more. And we need some rest.”
The others had no preference, so Marcus cast the deciding vote.
“I vote we camp here tonight, then explore the rest of the islands tomorrow morning.”
So it was decided, and after they made a fire using some branches from the trees where they found the purple fruit, they made a meal of freshly caught fish, more of the purple fruit, and some berries Cort found growing on bushes not far from the flaming flowers.
They investigated further and found a cave near the shore where they stowed the boat for the night. They decided to sleep out in the open under the trees with the feathery branches. As the sun sank below the horizon they marveled at the beauty of the sight framed through the fronds. The full moon rose in the sky as they lay down to sleep in its pale light.
When they rose in the morning, they discovered they did not need to leave the island to search for signs of life. For standing in a circle around them were half a dozen or so young men with bronzed skin, clad only in a brightly colored cloth that covered them from the waist to the middle of the thigh. They had curly dark hair, brown eyes, and carried long poles of wood sharpened at each end. And they pointed them directly at the Alexandrians.
Chapter XVII
The Flame Throwers
Marcus woke to the warmth of the sun already in the sky, the cry of gulls somewhere close at hand, and the sight of a long, wooden pole aimed straight at his throat. His first instinct to grab the pole and knock the bearer off his feet was quickly stifled when he saw how many young men there were, and realized that among them only Dag carried a spear, while he and Felix carried daggers. The rest were unarmed.
And, he thought with a touch of irony, Dominio does not like fighting anyway.
He called out to the others to wake, which they did to varying degrees of alarm. Kyrene remained calm, while Dag would have put up a fight had they not been outnumbered. Cort edged closer to Dag and Elena screamed, only to have Felix clap a hand over her mouth to stifle it, while he himself grinned at Marcus in amusement over the unusual attire of their captors.
They were routed to their feet and forced to follow the strange young men, who simply pointed where they wanted them to go, which was in a large boat constructed of a hollowed out tree trunk. It was about forty feet in length and seated all of them with ease.
Their own boat, packed with their belongings, they were forced to abandon in the cave where they had stowed it. Marcus signed to the others to look away from the cave as they passed it, lest they betray its hidden treasure. For the sword Logos was stored on board, and Marcus feared it would be taken from him if these men knew of its existence.
They scrambled into the log and quickly sailed from the little isle. The journey did not take long as their destination was the largest island a mere mile or so away. They sailed around its outer edge and into a bay that was hidden from view when on the sea.
Despite their danger, Marcus could not help but admire the view that met their gaze. A row of about twenty huts that appeared to be resting on the ocean reflected themselves on the water, creating a mirrored effect. As they drew closer he saw that the huts, which were made of some type of thatch and were a conical shape, rested on a wooden pier built on stilts that extended over the sea and away from the shore.
How curious, he thought, but there was no time for reflection for they had docked at the pier and were being forced to debark at the command of the islanders. They were marched to the largest of the huts, which was set a little apart from the others at the end of the pier closest to the shore.
One of the young men rapped with his pole on the side of the hut. A narrow slit too small for a door opened to disclose a pair of cautious brown eyes. The young man spoke to the other in a langua
ge Marcus had never heard before, with gestures toward the Alexandrians. The other man grunted a reply and closed the little window.
After a long and discomforting pause he reappeared at a panel of the hut that opened to reveal a door. He jerked his head for the others to enter, and they all trooped into the small hut.
The hut was constructed entirely of thatch and was sparsely furnished with a small table and a few stools made of some reedy material woven like a basket. A curtain made from the frothy branches of the trees that were prevalent on the island screened the sleeping quarters from view. Marcus decided that the primitive little hut made Dag’s simple wooden house seem like a palace by comparison.
Marcus realized there were other people he had not noticed while taking stock of his surroundings. A man of about forty winters and a woman only a few years younger challenged them with their dark eyes burning like coals in a grate. He was dressed in similar attire to the young men; she was clad in a sleeveless sheath that fell to the knee. The fabric seemed to be a kind of flax, and both wore stones of a clear bright orange around their necks. They were the only ones who wore them, and Marcus felt certain that the fact was one of some tribal significance.
The man stepped forward and spoke rapidly at Marcus and his friends in a rasping voice. None of them could answer because they did not understand what was being said. Their silence appeared to frustrate the woman who sauntered, forth, swishing her skirt as she did so. She all but screamed at them in a shrill high voice that grated on Marcus’ ear.
He determined that they should at least appear to make some effort to communicate, so he introduced himself in the Common Tongue.
“I am Marcus Maximus,” he began, speaking slowly. “My companions and I have journeyed a long way, and came to rest on the small isle.”
