The sun was high in the sky and the clouds moved with the wind. Lingering over head, the clouds blocked out the sun down the path of a lone sailing boat. It's sail was purple with the emblem of a fire. Baskets littered the deck, crumbles scattered and a few dishes broken. The water collector's and containers laid dry and barren. Laying on the deck, Ahra kept a blind fold on his eyes. He had grown weak after two weeks at sea. He had thought he spotted land earlier in the day, but had fallen due to late of food. He had yet to raise and check.
The Zashine laid spread out on the floor, muttering and humming. His water craft approached the west shore of Yoreiq, being pushed by the sail and winds. It was almost like a ghost ship, and based on Ahra's condition, it soon might be if he didn't reach land soon. Thankfully, his boat was heading directly for land, but at a troublesome speed. As the sand and wood meet, the sea releases the ship from it's grasp. Yet only to be met with the hold of land and earth. The mystic moans, feeling the ship rock and then suddenly come to a halt. He raises his sword in hand, trying to signal for help with what little energy he had left.
It was the height of the day, and the fishermen were hard at work. Narron stood expertly on canoe he shared with another fishermen, Koana.
"Throw out the net," Narron instructed, his eyes on the fish in the water.
"Hey, look there!" Koana said, pointing towards the west.
Narron wiped the sweat from his brow as he squinted. He held up his hand to block the sun from his eyes. There, in the distance, was a flashing light.
"What's that?" Narron asked.
"Don't know," Koana responded. "Ships aren't supposed to be there."
"Huh," Narron responded. He found it unusual, but he wouldn't have thought much more of it, until Koana spoke again.
"I think they're signaling. Aiiii," he sighed, very concerned.
"Narron, they're signaling. Someone needs to check them out," he said, firmly.
Narron's jaw hardened. He looked at the other fishermen, who were busy chatting and reeling in nets. Most in this crowd didn't have wings. Koana didn't have wings. He clapped Koana on the back before expanding his wings.
"I'll go. Don't concern the others until I get back," he said.
He bent his knees and jumped, the canoe rocking almost violently as he took off.
--
As Narron flew over the tattered ship, his figure blocked out the sun for a moment.
"Aiii."
Narron sucked in his teeth at the sight. He had his share of wrecks, as sometimes ships got stranded on the island.
I have to get the others, Narron thought.
"HEY!" Narron shouted as he flew down towards the ship, gliding over it. There was a figure, a man, waving a sword.
Narron landed by the figure, crouching by him.
"Hey," he said in common again, more gentle. "How are you?"
The Zashine looked up at the winged man and was given a feelin of relief. He placed his blade to the ground and nodded. "...Better days." Ahra coughed with a dry heave. "At sea for weeks...Not enough water." Grabbing his throat, the young man started coughing again. His lips looked dry and cracking, signs of dehydration. He kept his eyes squinted as he looked to Narron. "Please help."
Narron glanced at the sword nervously as he patted his sarong, expecting to find a goard tied to it. There was none. Narron scowled momentarily and squatted by the sailor, quickly scanning for wounds. Finding nothing, hegently scooped up the weakened sailor. He could pass as yoreiqi, but Narron doubted he Was. The boat and bannerss were Foreign, but not unlike any hes seen.
"we are going to fly, okay?" He said. "Is it just you?"
"Fly?" Ahra asked before vacantly nodding. "Yes. It is just me. I am fine with flying." His voice had come out slightly weaker than before, and Ahra himself heard it. Before he would fly though, Ahra would reach to the side of his baji and look to his sheath. The foreign man couldn't quickly untie the hindrance, so he took a deep sigh and closed his eyes. He started thinking when they were closed. This man looked similar to a Zashine, but Ahra knew better than to think his people would be this far out.
"Good," Narron said.
He frowned at the empty sheath, glancing at the sword on the deck. Somebody would come for that later, he was sure. Nobody on the island was a thief. The sword would be returned. Cradling Ahra firmly in his arms, Narron flew. The ship was by the shore, so flying was not necessarily necessary, but definitely faster. He flew towards the fishermen's village. In the height of day, it was bursting with activity. Nets were being repaired, smoke that smelled of meat and bread emerged from cooking huts, and goods were being exchanged at the market. At the sight of Narron, a worried murmur spread among them.
A small crowd formed around Narron, making it difficult for him to land. He was bombarded with questions in rapid Yoreiqi, which he patiently answered. However, whenever someone reached to touch the sailor, Narron would do his best to move. The poor man was burnt and dehydrated- Narron doubted that despite their good intentions, the people were only make his suffering worse.
Finally, he arrived at the healer's tent. The older, wingless man had been waiting for him. He wore a clean, green sarong that wrapped around his waist and tied over his shoulder. He was also one of the few to possess glasses. He ushered Narron in, and helped lied Ahra on a soft pallet with blankets thrown over it. Though a low fire burned in the hut, it was airy and cool inside.
"He needs water, Kowiha," Narron urged in their language.
The healer nodded, and pressed a bowl full of water in Narron's hands.
"Help him drink this. Slowly. I'll go get a balm for his skin," he said. "Also ask him questions. I cannot speak Common."
"As you say," Narron agreed.
He shifted his attention to Ahra.
"I took you to a doctor," he said slowly in Common.
He helped the sailor lift his head, and held up the bowl.
"Drink slowly," he said, translating the doctor's advice. "What's your name? Where are you from?"
It occurred to Narron he had forgotten to tell his fellow fishermen what was going on, but no doubt that someone had run off to tell them. News traveled quickly on the island.
When passing through the crowd, the fairly light man kept his eyes closed and held his breath. He was unfamiliar with these and thus felt it was best to not stimulate their curiosity. But once on the pallet and being taken care of, Ahra felt at peace and at ease. Taking some water that was given to him, he drank it slowly, savoring it. Once the mystic was asked the questions, he looked up to Narron. "I must really thank you before I go on." As a Zashine, it was a common custom to thank someone before following with order's or requests.
Keeping his eye's closed, he spoke in Common. "My name is Ahra Runoi. I come from the Isle of Greymaine. I have been at sea for almost two weeks with full sail of swift winds and tides." The dark skinned man then took another sip of water. "The sea was beautiful before I realized I was running out of food."
Greymaine? Narron had never heard of it. Further, this man ventured out in the ocean by himself? Only a fool did such things... But Narron knew better than to scold a perfect stranger, especially one who had suffered as much as this. He was polite, at the least.
"Ahra," he repeated. "That's an easy name. Mine's Narron. Are you a trader? Where is your island?"
"I am no trader and no fishermen caught adrift." Ahra took a moment to breath and collect his thoughts. "In common...It would be passed the Constellation Reef, far far to the west of here. My island is isolated but large. We that there is much more land to the east, and so I came to this mainland to seek out new knowledge and wisdom's for my people." In a soft tone, Ahra chuckled. "It is funny. Our people look rather similar to be honest. Narron, what is the name of your people? Mine is Zashine."
"Oh," Narron simply replied, unsure of what to make all of that. He couldn't quite understand what Ahra meant. It was all so strange to him! This man was no trader or fisherman? Zashine?
"Ah Yoreiq. We are Yoreiqi," Narron hastily replied when Kowiha returned with a fresh orange sarong over his shoulder, a bowl of water in one hand, and a jar of a sweet smelling ointment in the other. Narron placed down the drinking bowl and accepted the other one as Kowiha muttered some orders to him.
"This is Kowiha," Narron said as he gently peeled off Ahra's sweaty headband. "He said he's going to help with your burns. I'm going to wash your face, okay?"
Narron pressed a cloth into the bowl, and and drained it of most of its water before gently swiping it on Ahra's face. It was awkward work, washing another's face. However, ,it was rather like cleaning a babe, and Narron had done his share of that. Ahra was at least still and patient.
"I do not want to be ... rude?" Narron said, making sure the words came out right. "But how did you get here? Alone."
"Hello Kowiha." Ahra nodded and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath before being assisted. "Um, I guess." The man shrugged mentally before going silent. He started trying to puzzle together his reasons and explanations. But was mostly taking in the scent of the ointment. In a few moments, Ahra released his breath and opened his eyes. "Well to begin...It was two years ago. It was my rite of passage ceremony. During it, I was shown to meet certain requirements to give me the title of Mystic. There hadn't been someone like me in a few generations, so it was a big deal. With this title, I was charged with traveling the world and learn. Gather wisdom, knowledge and ideas from other people and societies."
Ahra chuckled. "You can only learn so much from an island. But yeah, I was given the task and told to return after about two to four years. Sounds pretty long to me."
Narron translated what he could to the healer as they worked, seeing it as the polite thing to do. Of course, there was some words he couldn't quite comprehend, but he got the basics of it. When he was done, the doctor said something that made Narron's face light up.
"Kowiha has a very good idea," Narron told Ahra. "When you get better, would you like to live in my hut? Then, when the time comes, you can leave the island with the merchants. Would you like that?"
Ahra thought about to proposal. He figured it would give him time to recover, allow him to pay the men back, and to learn from these people. Nodding his head, the Zashine agreed. "I accept the offer and thank you. How long do you think that might be?" He asked, leaning up.
Narron beamed, proud to be the one the outsider had chosen to stay with.
"Excellent!" he said.
He told Kowiha in rapid Yoreiqi what Ahra had asked him.
"A few days, at most," Narron translated when he got an answer. "To get your strength back. Then, you may stay on the island as long as you want."
He clapped a hand against his black and red hair, tugging it a bit in frustration. He muttered something in Yoreiqi to which Kowiha chuckled. Narron shook his head.
"There is a festival next week," Narron told Ahra. "You've come at a good time! Though I forgot I must do something later tonight. "
He didn't want to be rude and leave the stranger alone with no knowledge of the language. And there was another thing...
"Your sword," he said, sheepishly. " I will find it. Someone must have it. Is there anything else on the ship?"
"A festival? I guess everything happens for a reason. And a few days will do me good." Ahra chuckled before his eyes settled upon the two men with great distress. "Yes! My sword, I must get it!" His voice become horse as he tried to get up. Sadly he was still rather weak, and fell back onto the pallet. He cringed and held his torso. "Damn it. Please, send someone right away. Their are other things on the ship's small cargo hold as well. Just throw a tarp or sail it closer please. I have a few things that I must personally retrieve. But yes, my sword is very important."
With that, the Zashine looked to the Yoreiqi before closing his eyes. "I think I just gave himself a head pain."
Narron tensed as Ahra suddenly became flustered.
"Please don't," he said, reaching out to help the man lay back down. He nodded quickly a few times at the man's request.
"Don't worry, I'll do it," he promised. "Kowiha will take care of you. I'll be back later, yeah?"
With that, he told the healer where he was going before exiting the hut. Narron sighed as he left the hut, rubbing his temples. It was a lot to take in, and though a guest was happy news, a wreck was not. He stretched out his limbs, glad to be in the sun light and outside again. His wings burst from being folded against his back to being outstretched and Narron took off into the late afternoon skies.
A few things Ahra personally wanted to retrieve... Narron didn't really get the privacy. Why must he do it himself? But it wasn't his business, and the least he could do was save what he could of the ship. Before he could go in that direction, however, Narron flew in the direction of his hut, where his friends and equipment would no doubt be waiting.
Ahra sighed as he laid down, placing his hand over his eyes. "Kowiha, thanks for the help." The Mystic said, boosting his own spirits in a way just by talking. Looking at his sun burned, dark skin, the man took in a deep breath and just laid their. He removed his robe-like tunic, airing out his chest. He felt like he was slowly gaining greater motion back in his upper body, yet his limbs were still heavy.
With his phoenix tattoo exposed, he brushed some sweet off his pectorals. He turned his head over and around, taking in a full view of the hut. "Very nice place." He muttered to himself in his horse voice before slowly falling asleep.
When Narron arrived home, he found most of the fishermen waiting for him. Koana was the first to meet him.
"What happened?" he asked.
Narron explained to them about Ahra. Most of the fishermen relaxed at his words, glad that the man was fine. Others looked at each other warily. A foreigner from a land they had never heard of was
strange news, indeed. Though most were open to visitors, some remain cautious of being taken advantage of.
"We got the boat safely to shore," Koana told Narron. "Don't worry about it now. You should rest and eat a little."
Narron wanted to do that more than anything, but he still had business to attend to.
"Ahra's sword," Narron explained. "It is important to him. "
Another fisherman step forward, sheepishly holding out the weapon. His body was covered with fearsome scars, for he was also a hunter, as well.
"I was playing with it," he admitted. "I've never seen the likes before."
Narron grinned.
"Thank you," he said. "Let's not tell."
Narron's friends were persistent and firm. They would not let their friend leave until he ate with them, drank with them, and tell them more about Ahra as they told him their stories with the boat and other happenings that afternoon. By the time they let Narron leave, the moon was high in the sky. Before he left, however, he was careful to wrap the blade in layers of cloth, so as not to nick himself on the way back.
Well before the moon reached it's height in the sky, Ahra had fallen asleep in the hut. Drained from both exhaustion and boredom, the Zashine drifted in pleasant dreams that left him wanting and whining. In his dreams, he was continuing to sail, going past the island he washed upon and drifting into the mainland. There the vision of a mighty tower or spire filled his mind. Almost like a premonition. It's location was unknown, and Ahra felt a chilling wind fly up into his lungs before falling to his knees in a tower among fallen ruins. His dream jumped from the sight of a masterpiece to the view of a destroyed kingdom.
Shifting in his sleep, his sheath fell to the floor. The cling echoed in his mind loud enough to awaken him from his deep dream. Though caught in a jumping dream, the ping from his sheath was like a gong in this alternate ream. His emerald eye shot open, and he quickly leaned forward. Taking in deep breaths, the man realized that he was feeling in better shape. Yet not enough to go venturing out too far.
Calming himself down, Ahra placed his shirt back on before making an attempt to stand. Using the pallet to push himself up, the man's shaky legs were enough to hold up his weight. "Now..." His voice was low and hurt. "Lets see what is outside, shall we?" He asked himself, reaching for the doorway.
Over the village, a white wisp flew by at incredible speeds. It's shape was not exact and with the moon as it's cover, it spiraled up into the sky before plummeting down into the pathways of the village itself. It searched, seeking something for it held a determination like a hungry wolf.
Narron did not initially notice the wisp, too ensnared in his thoughts and the dark path back to the hut. When he came close, he saw a strange and small light hurling itself towards the village.
Strange, he thought, though was not alarmed. There were many things that glowed in the dark, and most were not hostile.
When he landed, he found Ahra's face streaked in moonlight, his face peeking out of the hut.. Narron frowned to see the stranger struggling to stand.
"Do you want to come out?," he asked, knowing Kowiha would protest. Ahra should be resting, not on his feet!
"It is beautiful." Ahra said to Narron with a smile. "You village is very exotic and vivid to me. I only wanted a small peek of it before returning to my sleep. But my curiosity is filled for tonight." The Mystic took a last look around. Basking in the ground view of these wooden structures. Eyes open to the moon light, Ahra began to ponder and shook his head. "If I might walk for just a bit, it would not be an issue to my recovery. As I see it anyway."
And with that, Ahra snickered. "It reminds me of the time I was supposed to meet for teachings. Yet went to play in the mountain as a little child." A moment after, Ahra then began to look confused. "By the mention, where might Kowhia have gone off to? I did not see him once I had awoken. Two mere minutes ago."
Narron brightened at the notion of a walk.
"Then I'll come with you," he insisted.
He chuckled at Ahra's story.
"Sometimes when I was a child and did not want to fish, I would take off and surf," Narron admitted. He scratched the back of his head and shrugged at Ahra's question.
"I don't know," Narron said, easy going. "Perhaps on a walk, like us, and gathering herbs. Or at Nali's' hut. They're good friends. Oh."
He looked down at the sword in his hands, and handed it out to Ahra, still wrapped.
"Your sword," he said. "Your ship is fine. My friends took care of it. They touched nothing."
"That is good. All of it good." Ahra kept his new smile upon his face before taking his sword back. He passed his hand over it along with it's attachment. "This is very important indeed. And I am rather glad they were not too curious." Ahra sighed. "I must be honest it is a nice village, but where might your temples be?" Ahra asked while sliding his blade back into the sheath. The paired match clicked, filling Ahra with a sense of completion. "Or might your people practice a more...Ugh." Ahra tried thinking of the Common word for what he was trying to ask.
He seemed stuck, since not all the words of Common matches the Zashine tongue, nor vise versa.
Narron had to give a nervous smile at Ahra's comment.
They were VERY curious... Ahra was going to learn that about his friends soon enough! He frowned at the word 'temples.' He scratched an itch on his side as he thought about it. Narron didn't really get where Ahra was trying to trail off to, but he did at least understand that it was a question of religion. '
"No temples," Narron finally said. "But we have shamen and healers... like Kowiha. We have gods and the dead. The feast to come is to celebrate the goddess of that volcano."
He used his native tongue to say 'shamen,' not finding the right Common word for it. Narron pointed into the distance, where in the darkness, a large shadow loomed. The moon's rays gave hints of trees and rock. Together, they walked past rows of huts and small patches of gardens. If he listened very quietly, Narron could hear the crashing waves of the ocean. Somewhere in the near by woods, an animal howled. The light of a wisp wove between not-so distant trees.
"Tricksters," Narron said. "Be careful with those."
"Oh I see I see. My apologize if I seem rude towards your beliefs." The Zashine moved his bangs to the side, with a nod. He seemed interested by the idea of a goddess living in a volcano. Or perhaps the volcano was the goddess herself? Ahra would soon learn from these people. That was the mission he was given after all.
He gazed at the huts, the trees, and then the wisp. Scanning the light, Ahra's eyes glimmered for a moment. He made an attempt to look at the wisp with his magical vision, but his eyes held too much strain to do it. Rubbing his eyes, the man nodded. "We have things similar to those on my Island. It is funny, I had spotted this place and released it to go searching. It never did return. They act like messengers or scouts. I suppose something happened to it." Ahra stated. "But what do you mean by...Tricksters?"
Narron shook his head.
"No, you weren't rude. Learning," he said with a smile.
He pointed towards the Wisp.
"Some say they are the gods messengers," Narron explained. "They sometimes brings news of good or ill... But mainly, for their fun, they like to lead people astray from their paths. Sometimes they lead to places of beauty but most times, they lead you to danger. It's fun, for them."
"That really is troublesome." Ahra nodded in agreement. He didn't like that the spirits would so easily feel enjoyment from tricking the living. Looking to the sky, he pondered at what happened to his scout wisp. Taking a deep breath, Ahra walked over to the wisp with his hand out. "Come little one."
Narron held his hand out in protest, but drew it in alarm back as a wisp approached him. In truth, he had rare encounters with the creatures. So where Ahra was inviting, Narron was hesitant. It was a small, glowing thing that almost looked like a miniature Yoreiqi up close, except their wings seemed to be made like insects and their smile too wide. Their faces had unique and distinctive markings that glowed, like war paint. The little creature tugged at Narron's finger. He couldn't help to smile a little by its charm, but he tugged back.
"Ahra, we should not do this," he said.
"It is strange, very...Strange." Ahra said before retracting his hand. "An odd creature, that is for sure. I wish not to be judgmental, but I would not so easily trust you. You fill me with some doubt little one." The Zashine speaks to the small wisp. He continues to examine it as a ball of blue fire came flying down from the sky. As it approached, it grew limbs and the features of a fox.
It's body landed on the ground without making a single sound. Walking behind Narron, the spirit passed it's tail around his leg. It's felt warm to the touch by unnerving. Giving a small sniff to the wisp, this new spirit circled back around to Ahra. Just now noticing his scout, Ahra gave the manifestation a small and waved of the hand. "Finally you make yourself appear. I would believe it if you went to enjoy time with these smaller wisps on the island."
Narron's mouth hung agape as the spirit fox wrapped his tail around his leg. He shuddered, alarmed.
"W-who is this?" he asked Ahra hoarsely. His feathers had rustled slightly. He did not want to insult the spirit, but that didn't mean he wanted to meddling with them!
The foreigner looked very, very calm about this. Narron frowned at Ahra's words.
"You KNOW this spirit?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low and even.
"Yes, this is Sagax. He is a rather smart fellow, it bothersome to control. Mostly because he moved of his own free will. He is no conjuration." Ahra said before looking at Narron with confusion. "Is it strange, even taboo to be this close to a spirit?" He asked with interest. Slowly he was learning, like Narron said before.
OOC: Also, I done goofed. narron should have been apprehensive about the sword because they are strict about weapons XD that cna be addressed later, i suppose lol
IC:
Narron shook his head, his eyes still fixated on the creature. He was captivated by the spirit and its beauty.
"No," he said, almost in a whisper. "I don't think so. I've never seen a spirit before. Hello... Sagax?"
The sounds of the name were foreign to his tongue.
OOC: That is alright, we can take care of it later.
IC:
The spirit looked to Narron and moved closer and bowed it's head. Marks glowing on it's face in a bright purple. It's eyes white and vacant. "Sagax." Ahra nodded, pronouncing it again for Narron's benefit. "It means sharp, as in keen and sharp eyes." The man explained before looking back down to the spirit. "So, what did you find my friend?"
Ahra placed out his hand, followed by the fox shaped being to place it's head in his palm. It's marks glowed brighter and the wave marks on the side of Ahra's eyes began to glow as well. The spirits collected knowledge began to flow into Ahra. After a moment, the two separated and the Mystic took in a deep breath. "Nice Island this place is. Still got to explore it before I leave." He chuckled.
"WHOA!"
Narron took a couple of alarmed steps backwards as Ahra and Sagax touched. A wave of light streamed between the two. Narron clutched his chest, his heart beating rapidly. He didn't know he could any more surprises... until the fox talked. He almost collapsed to his knees, then and there.
"What... just... happened?" he asked, his voice weak.
The fox chuckled and turned away to go down the row of huts near by. Ahra watched as Sagax walked away before returning to Narron. "He shared his collected knowledge of this island with me. Like a good scout is meant to. But just the general look and layout of this place. Nothing too deep." The man took a deep breath and knelt down. "Takes a lot out of you if your not in good shape." Ahra said before coughing.
"Damn it." He was forced to use his sword and sheath as a cane to raise himself up. He was lightly panting. "I think I might have over exerted myself that time. Narron mu friend, can you help me to the hut?"
Narron reached out to help Ahra up before the foreigner could even ask for assistance. He still trembled slightly, still in shock by the fox. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew Ahra needed help and whatever that had just happened was not because of malevolence.
"Of course," Narron replied as he wrapped an arm around Ahra's shoulders.
He frowned at the sword, realizing something.
"Ah... wait. You should hide your sword," Narron suggested. "My friends are... special cases but most here are troubled by the sight of a war-weapon like that. I brought it because it was important to you, but you must keep it secret. "
"Yes, yes of course." Ahra nodded before sliding the sheath into the inside of his clothing. "I might have something to conceal it better on board my ship. Tomorrow I will search for it. I wish not to cause panic." The man rubbed his eyes and looked back to his spirit companion before taking in a deep breath. He started walking back to the huts.
"Let us both retire for the evening. Yes?" Ahra asked Narron with a smile.
Narron nodded, finding the plan to be a solid one.
"Yes, let's," he agreed, wrapping his arm around Ahra's shoulder.
Together, they slowly walked back to the healer's hut.
Thankfully, the healer still was not home. Narron suspected that he was still out collecting herbs or staying the night at a friend's, most likely the latter. Narron helped Ahra get to the cot he occupied. Narron wasn't worried about finding a place to sleep, himself. He didn't mind staying on the floor. Having feathers helped when in want of a pillow.
Once he laid back down, Ahra let out a deep breath. "Thanks Narron." Ahra smiled before trusting his sword to the darker man. "I think the healer left some sheets to the side. If he did, might you please wrap the blade in them? My friend there will take care of the rest." Glancing to the door, the spirit fox was sitting rather statue-like. It watched the paths leading up to the hut, almost like a guard.
Sagax looked over to Narron and nodded his head before watching a butterfly go past them. A simple pleasure the spirit like to indulge in.
Narron nodded and followed Ahra's instructions. He dealt with the sword delicately. He concealed it in the pile of wide blankets, though he helped himself to to one. As he settled himself by a corner of the hut, he watched the spirit fox through heavy lids. As he drifted to sleep, he wondered if Kowiha saw many of these strange spirits, and if they weren't so exotic, after all. These were the thoughts Narron pondered upon as he drifted off to sleep.
Through out the night, Ahra shifted in his sleep. His mind raced as his body healed, still hurt and burned. The Zashine later laid in a death like stillness in the middle of the night. He was now calm and taking in all the rest he needed. When dawn began to crack the sky, Ahra slowly began to stir awake. Muttering in his origin tongue, the mystic yawned and gazed outward. Not ready to go out, he turned to his side and looked down at Narron sleeping. Sagax moving from the doorway in the night to sleeping beside the dark skinned man.
Narron woke shortly after Ahra. He let out a loud groan and wiped the sleep from his eyes. It took him a couple of moments to notice the sleeping spirit by his side. He gasped and almost fell over, but then suddenly smiled. The spirit was a gentle one, and who knew that they needed sleep? He folded the blanket he had used and carefully put it on the pile where he had taken it.
"Do you need anything?" he asked Ahra. "I must go now to work, but I'll be back after mid day."
Ahra shook his head before leaning up. "I should be fine. Please, do not be detracted from your work. It is how one must live." He smile before Sagax began to awaken from his slumber. The spirit gave a high pitched yawn before getting up to walk to the door. With it's mysterious eyes, he looked up and down the path outside the hut and ran off.
Ahra sighed and rubbed his head. "I suppose he ran off to try and amuse himself with the wisps deep in the forest." The zashine looked over his body, seeing his skin had mostly healed over night. "You suppose it would be fine for me to take some food and help myself?" He asked Narron.
"As long as he doesn't get lost," Narron teased.
He nodded at Ahra's request.
"Yes. Remember, if you need anything, as Kowiha or anybody near by. Don't go walking by yourself," Narron instructed.
With that, he waved good bye and left the hut. Then, ther was the sound of rushing air as he unfolded his powerful wings, and a loud clap as he took off into the sky.
Zashine nodded with a chuckle before Narron flew off. In a moment after he left, the Zashine got up out of his bed before go across the room and took his wrapped sword. With it hidden in the blankets, the man walked over to the hut entrance and walked out. He sat in the front of the hut, watching the morning people walk by.
He sat there for a few minutes, just dazing in and out of dreams before Sagax came back running, almost in a panting speed. Ahra looked to the spirit with interest before Sagax began nudging for him to get up and follow. It was clear something was going on.
When Narron arrived, he was greeted by his friends from the night before. They stood huddled on the decks, their boats still not launched or their nets in the water. Narron's stomach turned at the sight.
"Good morning," he said, minding his manners. He clapped a hand on one fisherman's shoulder. "What's wrong?"
The men looked at him with concern. They shot dark looks at the fisherman who was also a hunter.
"HE told a few that you had a sword," Koana explained.
Narron took a step back. It was all a misunderstanding, for sure, but for gossip to spread, even as so early as now, was no good.
"I will go speak to the elders," Narron resolved.
"They are not happy," Koana replied as Narron took off.
Rushing from his spot on at the hut, the weakened man still ran in stride toward the coast line. It took a few minutes, forcing Ahra to stop and hold his side in pain. His blood felt thin, and his bones almost like stone. Yet he kept moving, he knew that Sagax would not call him out unless something serious was happening.
The spirit swept through the trees ahead of the Mystic before the view of a ship. The ship was anchored off shore, but smaller boats had been brought up onto land. Men in tattered clothing were dragging cages and shackles off the boats. They seemed to be pirates, and nasty men in general. Only around five on shore at the moment, but Ahra couldn't be too sure. He was told of people like this by his grandfather and was going to take extra precaution.
Narron shuffled through the hot sand towards the elders' hut. In the front was a young woman, pacing nervously in front. She blushed when she saw Narron, said something quietly to herself, and ran away. Narron felt his soul become burdened with stones. This was not going to be a happy meeting.
He brushed aside the hut's flap, his nose instantly hit with the sharp smell of burning wood. A low fire was being attended by one of the elders. The others sat with concerned faces as they acknowledged Narron. An old women with wispy, white wings gestured for the fisherman to sit.
"Good morning," Narron said, meekly.
Some returned the greeting. An old, bald man huffed.
"We know about the sword," he said. "Narron, you know better!"
The other elders beckoned him to be still.
"Let the boy explain himself!" the woman with the white wings demanded.
Narron smiled weakly, making it a note to catch her an extra large tuna. With the elders' permission, he told the story of how he met Ahra.
"The sword seemed important to him," Narron said lamely. "I didn't want anyone else to find or misuse it."
"It was a very stupid thing to do," the bald man said, his words like daggers.
The elders broke off to mutters and whispers. One old man with a shawl on his shoulders spoke in avery loud voice to be heard over the den. His hair was long and grey, braided neatly down his back.
All went still.
The man turned to Narron.
"Give the sword to us before nightfall," he demanded. "As long as Ahra walks among us, it will remain safely in our possession. If not, we will have to punish you both."
Narron nodded at the wiseman's decision. In his heart, he knew Ahra would not like this decision, but if that was what the elders have decided it was for the best. They knew better than the stranger. It was their way, after all.
"I will," he agreed.
He mulled over this decision as he walked down the coast. He'd might as well retrieve it now, before he forgot. He stretched out his wings and took off, embracing the ocean's breeze. Looking down from up high, he noticed a small speck in the distance. He flew towards it, and towards Ahra, to investigate. The shape turned out to be a ship, with men jumping off and pulling out shackles and iron bars.
Strange, Narron thought. They didn't sail to the port.
He wondered if they were simply lost or misguided. That happened with ships sometimes. Narron swooped down until he hovered over the mast.
"Ahoy!" he said in Common tongue, waving towards the best dressed man among them. That had to be the captain.
The man, tall with short brown hair looked to Narron. He had clothes which looked like they were made in Serendipity. Like the rest of his crew, they seemed slightly aged and worn out by the sun. He waved with an off smirk. "Oi, Yoreiqian." The Human began walking away from his position at the wheel of the ship. "What can I do for you, Sir?' He asked, gesturing for the others to move along quickly.
The other crew men gave off-centered glares to the winged man, silently muttering among themselves. As they did this, they unloaded more shackles and cages off the ship into smaller boats.
It was at this moment Ahra began to become very suspicious of what these men were doing with so many tools of restraint. This was until a pair of men, who had been scouting deeper in the brush of trees returned to the shore. Finding the Zashine in hiding, one of the scouts sneaked up behind him and hit his head.
With a loud gasp, Ahra feel to his knees and laid unconscious. The two large men picked up his sword and body before leaving the tree's behind them and came into view of the ship.
Narron frowned as he watched men carried cages off of the boat and onto the sand. He didn't understand why there were cages. To ferry game away? But why would anyone do that? Or... Narron shook his head.
"You should bring your boat to the port... sir," Narron said with more authority.
I should go get help, he thought, when a limp figure caught his attention.
"Ahra!" Narron shouted. Without thinking, the bird-man hurled down from the sky and knocked down one of Ahra's kidnappers into the sand.
"Take him down, men." The "Captain" called out, pointing to the flying man. His band of crewmen began throwing Bola's at Narron's wings and feet, trying to retrain him from afar. The second man that was holding Ahra threw him to the side. He then pulled out his knife, swiping it at Narron.
From the lower decks, a man slowly ascended upwards. He picked at his ear, cleaning the outward entrance before stepping into the light. "What is all this racket, First-Mate Calopi?" Out came the words of a older man with skin rough enough to pull bark off a tree. His eyes were turning light, and his hair fading into grey at the edges. His clothes warped and torn.
The first-mate, the man Narron mistakenly took for the Captain, looked to his senor member and pointed to the beach. "Seems we were found out before it was time." Calopi said with a high voice. "Should I act?" He asked.
The Captain sighed before taking out his pipe. "You should have done that moments ago. Do it, boy." The Captain lit his pipe as the First-Mate rose his hands. With them, the water began to rise, and glow faintly. He was beginning to zero in on them, readying to blast them into submission.
Narron's heart pounded at the sight of the knife.
I'm no warrior, he found himself thinking as he attacked the sailor. The pirate was shorter, but larger in structure. Narron dodged out of the way of the incoming knife, and kicked the man square in the gut, and pushed him aside.
Narron took that as an opportunity to scoop Ahra up in his arms. He tried to shoot up in the air, but howled in pain as one of the sailors lunged and stabbed one of his wings. Narron responded by shooting out his wings, pushing the sailors back. With Ahra in tow, the sailor shot up into the air, when the sound of rushing waves filled his ears. A spiral of water shot towards the two men. Narron barely avoided the pillar, but it caused him to lose control and stumble in the air...
The Captain took out his pipe and glared at his first mate. "Take him down now, Calopi." His voice came off as harsh and with disdain. As his superior commanded, the subordinate did. Curling the water ahead of the stumbling duo. The manipulated mass absorbed the two into it's body before the first-mate quickly reworked with the water. He brought them both over to the ship, and dropped them down before they could drown.
Rushed to them, the crewmen began to bind the bird man's wings and arms. A few piled onto him, forcing him down into the wood of the ship. Ahra, still unconscious, was treated with lighter attention. A single man bound his hands in iron shackles, the same they were about to place on Narron.
Narron shouted and struggled against the water that bound him, but it was no use.
DAMN, he thought, his heart pounding. He had to go back to the elders and warn them. He had to! But it was to no avail. For the first time in his life, Narron fell from the sky, the water pulling him down. The terror was beyond Narron's comprehension, this feeling of losing control of oneself. He shouted in pain as his body hit the ground, but as he tried to get up, he found himself held down by a thick crowd of men.
I failed, he thought, his head spinning. He clutched his jaw as he saw Ahra bounded in iron shackles.
"No, no, no," Narron cried through gritted teeth. He began to panic, thrashing and tried to open his wings, but something pierced his neck. He let out a final cry, and drifted off to sleep.
----
When Narron woke up, he found himself in a dark room. His body ached, and his head felt it was split in two.
"Hey," he croaked, his throat dry.
He tried to move, but he noticed his body felt too stiff. He looked down at his hands. It was dark, but he could make out the shackles that bound his hands, and the ropes that bound his wings to his body.
So that's why he thought. Captured. I was captured.
He groaned in his misery.
"Ahra!" he called out, hoping the man was there.