Fire Born, page 21
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Udulre was a land of beauty.
Joanne wrapped the long, thin cotton around her hair, which was awfully frizzy in such tropical weather. Perhaps once it might've been welcomed, but at home, frizzy hair would've prevented her from being placed before many suitors. In a land like this, however, it was believed to be a gift from the Gods. Why such an absurd thought could exist in the brains of men, she would never know. Smiling wistfully, she stroked the sword that hung from her hip, skimming the dark black men's pants she wore with pride. In the eyes of Lucas, she was the most attractive woman that could ever be seen.
"It's amazing!" beamed Lucas, and indeed, the bright crystal blue water was a sight to be seen. As were the many trees. Having been raised upon harsh sand, nothing could be more magical to him than this.
Joanne rolled her eyes in utter exasperation. "You think everything green is amazing."
"You cannot blame me! I've lived on Haast for my whole life. All that resides there is rocks and sand. Never seen anything like this before, it couldn't be more beautiful." Lucas sniffed, miffed with her reluctance to admire the land they'd arrived upon. "You wouldn't understand, Jo. You've been travelling since you were a girl."
Joanne shook her head, frowning. The morning air remained upon her skin, sticky and moist. She sighed, wiping the sweat from her brow.
"I still am a girl, you should use your words properly," she huffed. "I'll always be a girl. Afraid I can't change that no matter how much I'd like to."
Lucas knew this was true, but he hadn't meant it like that. And they both knew it. Joanne had been travelling upon the sea for as long as she could remember. There had never been a time where her feet knew the ground for more than a month.
Lucas shrugged, picking up the sack of apples, and continued down the pier. Apples didn't grow well in the land of Udulre. Most would think they would, but the soil refused to allow such compatibility between the two of them. It was either that, or the land was cursed.
"You're supposed to be resting," said Jo as she heaved two sacks over each shoulder. They were nothing to her; Lucas couldn't help but gaze in utter disbelief.
" I can work and help. I'm not weak."
"I never said you were.”
"No. You implied it."
The fellow crew snickered to themselves as they always did. They seemed to find much enjoyment out of the continued misery of Lucas James. Perhaps there was something about him that forced them to hate him so; for they truly did. There was nobody they disliked more than Lucas, and the only idea to why was his cooking.
"Shut up you lot!" roared Jo, "he's done a lot more than you. How would Captain Orion like it if he found out the truth of your current behaviour? Does anybody here want to be whipped! Because I can assure you, he will do so."
The crew glared fiercely at the blonde woman who continued to rage. Her outbursts seemed to never end. Jo was the violent kind of woman who most would pleasantly avoid out of fear of getting hit. As a sailor, she was much more frightening, and nobody knew this more than Lucas. For sure, the crew had witnessed her rage, but it was Lucas who understood her thirst to prove herself, even if it was shown by her violent tendencies.
Damon, one of the warriors that guarded Captain Orion's study, held the most interest in the lovely fierce Jo. The rest were merely dismayed with her presence upon their ship, as they called it.
Damon was the most loved warrior and the most capable. Lucas had been trained from the moment he could walk, but even his movement was nothing compared to that beast of a man. His own father, James, would've been highly interested in the tall, able-bodied man who only had eyes for young Miss Jo. Talent was simply talent, and the art of swordsmanship that Damon possessed was unlikely to be found in any realm that was worthy of travel.
James had always been a rather brutal man, and he lacked a particular understanding when it came to the knowledge and pure art of love. This much was common in those who had been raised as a Sephora. Lucas knew this well enough, but not every assassin possessed the skills they should have. Magic was rare, and in the eyes of their God, the true abilities of a Sephora came from magic itself. Still, many suspected this was merely a myth.
The Sephora were deadly in many ways, and their sense of morality wouldn't restrict them on abducting another simply because of the skills they possessed. Most of the Sephora took the unwilling, and Lucas thought it was rather like slavery. In that, they had no right to these people.
Lucas was sure of it: the Sephora's most significant flaw was the arrogance they so readily possessed.
The wind swept through the white sand, and Lucas winced as it brushed up against his feet. Although the sight was beautiful, a sense of common danger lingered in the air. He knew nothing of the reason, but there was enough of it that he could feel it deep within his bones. It was almost as if the land was haunted, and tragically so. The wind howled, and oh, how it made him shiver. His fear never seemed to end.
His hands shook, and he frowned out into the trees. There was something in there.
Jo, it seemed, felt the pressure as much as he did. "Ignore it, pretty boy,” she said in a low voice. “We can all sense it. As long as we don't pass the barrier line and head into the trees, we shall be fine. The people come out and collect all they need. But we never go into the forest." This surprised Lucas, but he assumed it was another myth. Just like the Sirens, although even they proved to be real.
The howling continued, and the trees creaked. Lucas could feel them, whatever they were. He was unsure if it was the people who lived on these lands or something else entirely. He would never know, for stupidity certainly wasn't one of his flaws. And entering that forest would be precisely that.
"What is it!" hissed Lucas, his eyes never once left the bending trees of Udulre.
They watched them together, the sand swirling around their feet. An eternal dance of the winds of time. They ignored the men who circled around them, placing crates at their feet. They held little interest in Lucas and Jo. And rightly so, for they didn't possess such an air of fear.
The shadows danced, for the sun was at its brightest. The shade within the forest was pitch black. Nothing could be seen.
It wasn't this that scared Lucas; it was the fear of being alone. Perhaps that had always frightened him. There was more to loneliness than an absolute lack of company; the monsters noticed the vulnerability a human could carry when they were in that state. And Lucas knew that those creatures were far more alive than people thought.
His belief in them had consistently been shaken, for one moment, he was convinced, utterly and completely. Surely the Sirens existed, and if they did, the question remained, what else lived in the ocean and upon the land? Myths were but stories told throughout time, but where did they come from? And why? Surely there was a reason for such tales to be told, and the truth of them was to be feared.
Looking upon the forest, Lucas knew there were monsters in those woods. Only a fool would think otherwise. He picked at the cotton shirt he wore, desperate for the comfort of dark skin touching something else other than fear. It was all around him, and for one moment, he pondered the possibility of escape.
"Jo," called out one of the men, "they'll probably be here soon."
Jo nodded; she knew it was so. The sun was almost at its highest point. It was then that the tribe revealed themselves; they jumped from the shadows as if they'd always been there. Watching and waiting, she knew nothing about the people. Hardly anyone did, as they were a strange civilisation. Haast was looked down upon by the mainlanders for being primitive, but in truth, it was Udulre that could only be described as such. She looked to the crates. There seemed to be enough. A smile made its way onto her plump pink lips.
"You know, they say here is where all the magic started."
Lucas blinked in surprise at these sudden words that had slipped from his friend's lips. He looked around, glancing upon the timeless sand, he could very much believe it.
"Maybe," he said. "I've never seen magic before."
"I have," replied Jo. "Not in the sense of true magic. But I've met a Crimson Walker before. They're far scarier than the Sephoras."
"A Crimson Walker? Aren't they the witches of the mountains in the mainland?" asked Lucas.
Jo nodded. "Yes. They can't conjure magic like the Fire Born. But they can do things, magical things. And it's horrific." Her fear was very much evident, but Lucas himself had never heard much of the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders.
Trevor laughed heartily. "Crimson StridersCrimson Striders! Don't be ridiculous, Jo. They don't exist. I've heard many stories, but none of them were ever any good or true. Simply stories to scare little children, to make them promise their Ma and Pa they won't go adventuring up into the mountains. There are all sorts up there."
Trevor, one of the many sailors who worked upon the ship, grinned at them. And what a hideous thing it was, too. His hair, though he didn't have much, was greasy and plain white. This simply wasn't from age, for his mother and father were as black as can be. His own skin was closer to the colour of snow, but his eyes were the strangest of all, for they were bright pink. Jo thought he was albino; there was no other explanation for such looks. On another, it might appear to be pretty, but with ratty looking hair and a toothless grin, it was quite the opposite.
"Like what?" asked Ed.
Trevor scoffed. “You know what I mean! There are wolves and bears. I've even heard that someone saw a lion! Massive, it was."
Jo scoffed right back at him. "Of course a Lion would be massive. They're hardly small. But there won't be any up there. There's not enough heat."
"What does heat have to do with anything?" asked another sailor. His own grin was blinding, but this one seemed to have a healthy set of teeth.
"I don't know," Jo shrugged, sweeping the sand off her leggings. "That's where they always are."
Lucas chuckled, looking upon the merry crew in amusement. "They live in hot places because that's where the majority of their prey is. Places like Haast have a lot of big animals, as does the small island, Rolun."
They stared at Lucas. Disbelief was clearly evident within their faces. They couldn't quite understand how the cook knew that much about the wild animals that roamed the land of Haast. Although it was true, you would commonly see far bigger animals on Haast than you would in the mainland.
"How do you know that?" asked Ed, blinking at the young boy. "Have you seen the big lions then? Blimey! I wouldn't want to go anywhere close to them. There'd be nothing left of you!"
Lucas scoffed. "Don't be stupid. Only an idiot would go near a lion."
"How do you know so much about them then? I thought you were only the cook."
"I can know other things while being a cook," Lucas said, barely resisting the temptation to roll his eyes. The idiocy of the crew was almost unbearable.
"I can sew," said Ed, much to the dismay of his other crew members, knowing this was horrific to their own minds. Although it didn't truly bother Lucas.
He laughed. "So could my father. Not that he ever told anyone."
"The Crimson StridersCrimson Striders are real," muttered Jo, paying little attention to the others.
Lucas frowned. The witches of the mountain were well-known for mind control and their conflicting command over a person’s dream. It was horrific, and if the stories were true, the thought of it broke his heart. For loss of power in the mind was truly terrible, and such a fate shouldn't be wished upon another.
Lucas looked back out to the woods, remembering the few words his father had told him as a child. He had claimed the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders were powerful beings who understood magic just as much as a Sephora did. Their name came from the bright red cloaks in which they wore, and all that could be seen was their eyes that peered back at you. Cold and calculating, a dangerous form of control, as they say.
They could summon the emotions in another with the flick of a hand. They weren't elemental born, but the abilities they possessed were damaging to the victims of whom they cursed. Jo was committed to the possibility of their existence, claiming they had been seen. But not many had witnessed a Crimson Walker and the abilities they expressed.
"You think you're safe simply because you refuse to believe in magic," spat Jo. "But I've seen it! I know of damage it can do, the horror of it all! Don't you dare tell me it isn't real. I know it is."
"Your delusional," Ed said. "I've lived for a long time, girlie. And not once have I ever seen the possibility of magic existing in our realm."
"Shut it, Ed,” Jo retorted. “I've seen things, far more than you. The Sirens sing on a Monday, the Cavelins linger and eat the flesh of a slave on a Wednesday. Magic lives within them, dark and insidious. You cannot say otherwise. I wouldn't be surprised if the Crimson StridersCrimson Striders are real; magic all came from here. The trees know it."
"Magic," whispered Lucas. He didn't know much of it, and what he did know was merely a myth. If the stories had any truth to them, then the magic that flowed through the blood of a human hadn't been seen for thousands of years. The age of sorcery had long since passed, but the history of it all still lingered within the blood. His own ancestors must have had some claim to magic itself, or that's what the books implied. And those who belonged to the Temple worshipped the very thought of magic. But there hadn't been a single drop of blood that possessed abilities like that of an elemental born. They had long since moved on, into the realm that claimed only the dead, settling for a rest of eternal sleep and peace.
"The Sephora worship it," he said. "They even have a celebration of it. Gruesome, but festive. They believe drinking blood of a sacrifice will give them the power of magic. If I remember correctly."
"No," growled Ed. "They do not. How would you know! I bet you've never picked up a sword in your whole life!"
Lucas sighed in exasperation. He'd never liked Edward. He was a prideful coward who wouldn't hesitate in killing a dear friend to escape from the gruesome grip of death. Of course, such a thing as this had yet to occur, but he saw the truth of Edward within his own eyes.
"What's it to you?" he snapped. Truly, Edward’s opinions held little importance, for what reason should he care? The man was a coward, and his arrogance remained hard to ignore.
But Lucas had never been one for violence. So, once again, he walked away from the raging idiot with his head held high. He wasn't afraid to fight; no, that wasn't quite the problem. His hesitation was caused by the known bitter regret of what anger and violence could cause. He'd seen it all before. The lives his father had taken. The ones he couldn't save.
Lucas hesitated, realising that for once, that he'd stepped closer to the wild forest that stood before him. A gasp tumbled past his lips as he noticed the dancing shadows, and they were moving. He stood back, his long legs trembling at the sight before him. What could they be?
"Oi! Pretty boy! You won't want to get much closer to the forest than that. People who go in there don't come back out," shouted Ed from across the swirling sand that had only now begun to dance with aggressiveness.
Lucas said nothing back, for his eyes were focused on the strange figures that seemed to appear from the shadows.
In most cases, this wouldn't have been too much of a mystery to the human eye. Shadows in nature could be quite deceiving; you could convince your mind of a particular shape that was being seen, when in truth, there was nothing there. But this was something completely and utterly different. The figures were moving from the shadows as if they were moulding and forming into the bodies of a human. Lucas had never seen anything quite like it before, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was magic, for what else could it be? A mystery in itself, a hidden thought and compulsion of the human mind. A story that had yet to be told, a fate that had yet to be unbound. There was much to be seen and felt, and none knew this more than Lucas James.
Lucas shuffled, his cheap boots rubbing against the sand. Perhaps I should have moved back, he thought, maybe then he I will be much safer. In thought and body.
The shadows continued to move. "Jo," he called, "the shadows..."
He couldn't recall ever being this afraid, not even when his father had placed a silver blade against his neck. Even the leather-made whips felt much more preferable to fear like this. The burning upon dark brown skin would've been desirous, for those things knew nothing of humanity or the meaning of such a word.
The shadows moved once more. Two figures becoming one, moulding in a sense that the human brain considered to be impossible.
And there they appeared: the shadows had turned into men. They were simply the strangest sight Lucas had ever seen.
“Oh,” he muttered, taking another step back in utmost caution. these men could do daunting things with the shadows, an ability no human should possess. For one short moment in time, he even questioned their being. Were they human? But they had to be, for they each had a head and ten toes. Lucas was equally sure that, under their leather looking skirt-like attire, the men would possess the body of a man. Not that he was tempted; such a thought as this made his lips curl in disgust.
