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In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Twenty-Five: Visions Of A Prologue

“I can't believe we're only just now doing this." Korvan grumbled.

“Neither can I. We had all of this time!" Harkel exclaimed, a hint of worry in his voce.

“Just shut up, you two, and grab the last of the scrolls!" Jazid growled.

The two humans looked toward their Jaliscan associate, who ripped articles from the shelves with his clawed hands. A claw snagged the corner of a scroll, tearing it nearly in half as he pulled his hand away.

“Wait!" Harkel gasped.

The men paused, looking at the cart full of scrolls and books, many of which they'd written themselves. It'd be hard not to fault them for their feelings; scribes preserve knowledge, not destroy it.

“Th-that was stupid of me. I'm sorry."

“It's alright." Irzain spoke up.

The trio whirled around, facing their leader.

“Sir!"

“Is that the last of them?" Irzain asked.

“It is!" Jazid replied, picking up the torn scroll from the floor.

“Double check, and then throw them in."

Irzain grabbed a stack of scrolls, clutching them to his body as he races down the grand hall of the temple. He rushed past the all too familiar interior fountain, and the padded stools that sit opposite the shimmering pool. Bursting into a room, he races toward another door, passing through it and finding himself standing in an open hall. Constructed as a place to relax and sunbath, this room has no ceiling, and is missing one wall, a stone guardrail preventing anyone from falling over the edge. There, he found his other associates hard at work.

Jorash, a young human male, and Brekken, a Falmun male of similar age, threw books and scrolls into a massive fire they'd built in the center of the open area. Beside them and tallying their progress is Naoma. She turned, seeing her lover. No longer can they keep their love a secret. She raced toward him and took him into her arms, holding him tightly. He dropped the scrolls, holding her back, gently stroking her with his fingertips.

“Oh, my love!" Her voice trembled.

“Are we almost done?"

“Yes. It'll be over soon... You should go now." She urged him.

“No. I need to see this through." He shook his head, burying his face between her feminine mounds. “Ever since I spoke to Bremen about the purge order, I told myself that it couldn't be true. I didn't want to believe it, but now that we know it's happening, this needs to be done, and I don't want us making any mistakes. We must conceal the truth, before King Vashalak can uncover it!"

“If my brother hadn't warned us, we wouldn't be here right now. He did what he did because he wants us to be safe, not to protect the secret." Naoma replied.

“I know, but this is bigger than us; it could change the course of the Kingdom. It's important."

“And being alive isn't?" She retorted.

Irzain pulled his head away, looking up and into the eyes of the Helngar whom he loves so much. The fear of living without her is more than he can bear, and his eyes begin to water.

“There, there." She cooed, leaning in and kissing his cheek. “We've taken care of everything. You don't need to watch us. I promise it'll be done."

“I-I just... I don't want to leave you here. What if-"

“Shh." She rested a finger over his lips. “If you hurry, you won't need to imagine the worst. Please, go. Get a ship and come back for us. We'll be waiting."

“Yeah! I'm already planning the layout of my new farm, once we escape!" Korvan chuckled, tossing scrolls into the fire.

Stepping away from his beloved, Irzain forced himself to release her clawed hand, which brought him so much comfort.

“I'll be back..." He said, walking slowly away from them. “I swear on my immortal soul, I'll be back for you."

“I know." Naoma smiled.

She waved her fingers as he walked backward, through the doorway. As soon as she was out of sight, he turned and dashed away, racing through the temple. He passed the fountain and stools, this time on the opposite side. Tearing open a door, he raced down a long flight of steps, clearing at least three stories as he traversed the spiral staircase. Upon reaching the ground floor, he burst through another door and found himself in the subtropical jungle of their island. Following a cobblestone path laid just for the scribes, so that they could hear their footsteps in the dark and not lose their way, he made his way toward the docks.

There, waiting for him, was a modest skiff. It's a boat not dissimilar from the skiff used by the Arona-Dahl, or many of the local fishermen of the Erie Isles. With a single mast and a pair of oars, he set sail and began to row. It took him all day and most of the night to reach the nearest island with the only boat that the Crown saw fit to leave them; King Euralian had feared the scribes leaving that island and spreading their forbidden knowledge. As the sun crept over the horizon, an exhausted Irzain finally struck land. Scrambling out of the boat, he abandoned it to the sea, letting it drift away as he marched onward.

For many hours the worn-out human hiked through the dense jungle, before finally reaching a town. Complete with a harbor, he knew that he didn't have long. With a heavy coin purse at his disposal, he found the nearest inn and tavern. It didn't take him long to find a captain willing to make the journey, first to his temple's island, and then to the mainland, where he and Naoma would hopefully live out the rest of their days in exile. Handing over the money, which is all that Irzain had at his disposal, the captain and his crew eagerly raced toward their ship, nearly dragging the human along, by the arms.

As they set sail for the island he'd pointed out, Irzain retreated to a little cabin, very similar in overall construction to the one aboard the Arona-Dahl. Finding an old cot with a musty smell, he fell back and promptly passed out. He awakened to the dim light of dusk. Bolting upright, he stared out of the porthole in horror. Why has it taken so long? He'd thoroughly calculated the distance between his island and the one occupied by the captain and his men. Did he somehow make a mistake? He raced to the upper deck and barged into the pilothouse, finding the captain and his first-mate within.

“What's going on?! Why aren't we there yet?!" Irzain demanded.

“I told you back in the tavern that we'd just finished a run." The captain began.

“Yeah? So?"

“So, we never unloaded it... We've still got tons of gunpowder in our hold. That kind of weight tends to slow you down some." The captain chuckled.

“Yeah. As much as you're paying, we figured we could get a buyer on the mainland and call it a day." The first-mate added.

Irzain was left speechless. They should've been there by now.

“Well, are we at least close?!"

“Sure! In fact, I can see your island just on the horizon. Look!"

Irzain followed the captain's finger, peering out of the windows and breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing the darkened outline of the landmass. It'd been a hard journey for him, and all he wanted to do is see his beloved Naoma again. Though the docks weren't built for a ship of that size, the captain and his men made it work; they dropped anchor and tied down to the dock, lowering the gangplank, which was steeply inclined. Irzain didn't care. He raced past them; the crew could barely keep up as he ran along the cobblestone road, lit by nearly extinguished torches.

“Naoma! Everyone! I'm back! ... My love?!"

Irzain looked through the temple, and was left horrified. The entire place was abandoned. The fire he himself had set had burned through; the papers were destroyed, and the secret was safe. However, this didn't deter the soldiers who very clearly stormed the temple in his absence. Beside the fountain, Korvan's corpse lay face down, his back riddled with gunshot wounds. Thinking fast, he raced back to the dining hall of the temple, looking for the loose brick at the southwest corner. It had been where he and Naoma hid their initial letters, when they first began their scandalous, interracial affair.

Reaching inside, he found something. His heart jumped for joy. He was quick to open the note, but not so quick that he might damage it.

“My love, the soldiers have come. They're here to take us, and kill whoever resists. I've managed to hide from them. I hoped we could be free of this, but I suppose we weren't fast enough. I'll try to make it to the cave. If I'm not there, then I've been caught. Please know that I did my best. I love you more than anything. You were the best part of my life. If we can't be together while we're alive, then perhaps we can be together in heaven? Forever yours, Naoma."

With letter in-hand, he shoved the curious crew aside and made his way back toward the docks. Taking a nearly burnt out torch, he raced through the forest and along the shore, several hundred yards toward the cave. It's a humble little cave, barely adequate as a home to a single, large beast. He peered inside, his heart racing as he called out for Naoma. He didn't receive an answer. Irzain stepped into the cave, trembling with fear. He wasn't afraid of the unknown, the creeping and crawling things that might await him in the cave that had seen his and Naoma's first kiss. No, what worried him was her not being there.

He remained hopeful, up until his dying torch shown him the rear of the empty cave. After looking for any sign of her, and failing, Irzain could barely walk back to the temple. He could hear the crew calling out to him. Emerging from the darkness, right back onto the small, cobblestone road, Irzain walked right past them and back into the temple. Standing before Korvan's corpse and clutching Naoma's note, he realized that there's only one place she could possibly be. Yes, there's no doubt in his mind. The most likely place to find his love is in the capital city, the seat of the Crown, and King Vashalak's new home.

“So much for the rescue mission." A crewmember murmured.

“What do you want us to do about this?" The captain asked, pointing at Korvan's body.

“Nothing..."

“What's that?!" The captain raised his brow in surprise.

“Leave him. We need to get moving." Irzain instructed, walking past the captain and his crew.

“And go where?!" The captain called out to him.

“The mainland, right?!" The first-mate asked with a quivering voice.

“We need to go to Vaspania. I need to get to the capital city. You can leave me there if you wish, but we have to move quickly."

The captain and his crew were stunned, but none argued with the man who'd paid them a small fortune. For what he gave them, they could buy another ship for their trouble. Returning to the docks, they boarded the ship and set sail. Irzain urged them to dump the cargo, but the captain wouldn't have it. As valuable as gunpowder is in quantity, he couldn't say that he blamed him. However, that would only make the journey take longer, and he was certain that while the soldiers would be forced to treat Naoma and his scribes well, it would be a different story when they reached the capital and met with King Vashalak's torturers.

The thought of her in agony made his blood boil, and pained his heart as if it were pierced with a red-hot dagger. After several days of uneventful sailing, the landscape began to change. The lush jungles gave way to a more temperate landscape. The trees looked hardier, with smaller, denser leaves or even needles, instead of palm fronds. On a dark and stormy night, Irzain felt uneasy. Something wasn't right, but he wasn't sure what it was. Suddenly, he smelled something. Is someone cooking in the next room? ... BOOM! The ship, rocked by an explosion, heaved in the water.

Irzain found himself lying on the floor, thrown from his cot by the force. Rising to his feet, he turned toward the porthole. He gazed into the black abyss, which seemed eager to swallow him whole. Suddenly, a hard thump rocked his skull, just as much as the explosion rocked the ship. Spinning around, he found himself staring at a cloaked, Jaliscan attacker, wielding a bludgeon and glaring with shimmering, emerald eyes.

“By order of the King, you must be purged!" The shadow man growled with a raspy voice.

With a quick twist, he threw Irzain to the floor. The helpless human barely had the time to cover his own head in self-defense before it was too late. A loud bang, accompanied by a thud, caught his attention. Looking back, Irzain saw the assassin lying dead, his face obliterated by a gunshot. Rolling over and turning toward the door, blood streaming down the back of his head, a woozy Irzain then saw the first-mate standing in the hall, an empty wheellock pistol in his shaking hand.

“H-he was g-going to k-k-kill you!" The nervous man exclaimed.

“Thanks." Irzain winced from the pain.

“He must be the one! Th-the one who blew up our powder stores! Come on! We have to get to a lifeboat!"

Grabbing his arm, the first-mate yanked Irzain to his feet, dragging him along. Reaching the main deck, the men were horrified to see the ship breaking apart. A loud creaking, akin to a tree falling, made Irzain turn and look back. To his horror, the mizzen mast was toppling over. Just before the massive chunk of solid wood fell upon him, a strong wave hammered the ship. Though the wave saved his life, tossing him aside like a child's doll, it also split the ship in two, breaking her down the middle.

Fire consumed the wood above, while the crushing depths of the sea claimed the rest. A single crate, empty and left behind in the cargo bay, bobbed to the surface. It was all that he had to cling to, and so he did, riding the storm with a bleeding injury and fading vision. Opening his eyes, Irzain shoots up, startling Mairlynn as she leans over him.

“Eee!" She falls back onto her butt.

Sitting up and trying to catch his breath, Irzain suffers Sovik's examination and questions, and then an attention gathering smack.

“By the Seraphs, do you remember anything?!" Sovik growls.

“Thank you!" Kirsta chirps.

“Oh! Yes, I do!" Irzain replies, rubbing his head.

“Such as?" Mairlynn leans a little closer.

“... Do any of you know what a 'purge order' is?"

The women look amongst each other, before turning back to him and shaking their heads.

“I do..." Sovik murmurs.

“Really?!" Jarae gasps.

“What is it?" Kirsta asks.

“It's a kill-order..." Irzain replies.

“Yes. Meant to wipe out families, clans, or whoever has offended the crown. The last King I've heard of who issued a purge order was King Vasar, father to King Euralian and the one who standardized the vasarik. That was... Oh... Nearly three-hundred years ago, I think."

“How do you know that?! You weren't even alive then!" Mairlynn retorts.

“Books are very valuable, little Falmun." Sovik grins.

“But why did they want to kill you?!" Jarae cocks her head.

“Because I was a scribe. I was the scribe, in charge of a whole temple. We had some knowledge there, some secret that King Vashalak didn't know; something that we needed to keep from him."

“What is it?!" Mairlynn leans closer.

“I don't remember... I just remember what we did."

“Figures." Kirsta sighs in frustration.

“And that was?" Jarae asks.

“Burn it."

“Burn it?!" Sovik gasps.

“Yes. We took the scrolls and books and burned them all, making sure that no one else would be able to fi-"

Before Irzain can finish answering, the old Falmun faints.

“... Was it something I said?" Irzain raises a brow.

“Well, what now?" Jarae looks to Kirsta.

“We should-"

“We need to go to Vaspania, to the capital city." Irzain promptly interrupts.

“Excuse me?!" Kirsta laughs from his audacity.

“That's the only place I need to be! Naoma is there! My memories are taking me there!" He explains.

“Did you also forget the gargantuan bounty you have on your head?!" Jarae snickers.

“Or that you don't even remember this big secret that they want from you." Mairlynn chimes in.

“No, but... But I..."

“Don't be a fool. We're not going to Vaspania... At least not yet." Kirsta replies.

“Then where can we go?" Mairlynn turns to her.

“Do you have any other clues? Anything at all?" Kirsta looks to him.

Irzain pauses, scratching his bearded chin for a moment.

“I don't recall the name or location, but... I know the climate of the island and the entire layout of my temple!"

“Okay... Limited helpfulness!" Kirsta grumbles.

“... Oh! I know someone who might be able to help us!" Mairlynn grins.

“Really?" A skeptical Jarae raises a brow.

“Uh-huh! Draeolynn! She's an old friend of mine. We met because we share a, uh... Condition."

“Oh! She's a sex-crazy man-hunter, too?" Kirsta laughs.

“No! That's not a condition!" Mairlynn whimpers.

“If you say so..." Kirsta quietly chuckles.

“Aw, she's a wittle munchkin?!" Jarae teases her, ruffling the Falmun's hair.

“Hey, stop that! ... Yes... She got it later than I did; she can walk around without a guardian. She's a noble, a princess to a highly academic Falmun. As long as I've known her, her dad has been dragging her all over the Erie Isles conducting research!"

“How does this help us?" Jarae asks.

“Because Draeolynn has been to tons of temples. Maybe even all of them! She's got a good memory too! She draws a lot of the places she's been to, sometimes years afterward. She's really good at it. I keep telling her to sell her work, but she's so stubborn... Anyway, I know where she lives!"

“And you're sure they're still there?! I mean, you did say that they move a lot, right?!" Irzain asks, growing increasingly anxious.

“They've lived on that same island for the past year. I exchanged a letter with her just before we met! I mean... That's all I've got, so what do we have to lose?!"

“Our freedom?" Jarae shrugs.

“Our lives?" Kirsta smirks.

“... Men." Jarae nudges Mairlynn.

“Oh... On second thought!"

“I need something to eat. I feel dead. We can go back as soon as I've eaten and Sovik is awake. I'd hate for him to wake up and us just be gone." Irzain replies.

“Yeah. The old man might think we were just a dream." Jarae chuckles.

Taking a seat beside the firepit, Irzain collects and eats some of the stew that Sovik was preparing. After a few minutes, the women crowd around the old man, who hasn't moved a muscle since he fell.

“Do you think he's going to wake up soon? ... He can wake up, right? ... I didn't kill him, did I?!"

“No, Irzain. He's alive." Kirsta replies.

“I think he's just sleeping." Jarae interjects.

“Oh... So wake him up!"

“It's impolite to disturb the elderly." Kirsta glares at him.

“..."

Sitting in silence for a moment, Irzain watches the women entertaining themselves with simple games and pleasant conversation. Jarae seems a little aloof, but then again, she always does. In the background, Sovik rolls onto his side, snoring ever so softly. Taking a deep breath, Irzain exhales loudly, venting his frustrations.

“I'm going to take a walk." He says, rising to his feet.

“I'll watch your back." Kirsta begins to rise with him.

“No, thanks!" He holds out a hand, stopping her. “I'm just going to stretch my legs, get a little air. I won't be gone long; I won't even be far."

“Suit yourself..." She shrugs.

Weaving between the women, Irzain steps through the doorway and into the cool air. The briskness gives him a little shiver. He walks around Sovik's hut for a moment, listening to the faint sounds of the villagers in the distance. Wandering away from the hut, he looks down the rows of buildings, seeing a group at the far end. Driven by his curiosity, Irzain makes his way across the village, approaching the group as they crowd around another hut. He wonders what's attracting their attention, pausing when he finds himself looking at a sign affixed to the wall of the hut, it's door and shutter sealed up tight.

“What's going on?" He asks them.

“There's a sign here." A village girl replies.

“... So?"

“... So, none of us can read it..." The girl grumbles.

“Oh! ... Well, allow me!"

Pushing them aside, he pauses as he reads the hand-carved, wooden sigh.

“It says 'help the man inside'... Huh..."

Without hesitation, the villagers explode into a cacophony of yelling and chirping. Several men take hatchets and promptly hack at the door, chipping it away until there's little left. Peering inside, they pause at an unnerving sight. It takes them a moment, but they soon race inside.

“Don't worry! We'll get you out of there!" A man assures someone.

“Mmm-mm-mmm!"

Leaning over, Irzain's curiosity gets the better of him. As the villagers wander about, he gets a glimpse of what's going on. His eyes widen in shock as he looks directly at Valan. Entirely nude, a villager throws a nearby blanket over Valan's lower half, covering his manhood from the onlookers. A thick, leather collar holds firmly to his neck, while a padlock prevents its removal. A thick chain, roughly three feet long, runs from the padlock and to a thick iron rod staked deep into the earthen floor of the hut. Valan is gagged, his mouth and nose covered with a leather half-mask; it allows only two holes for his nostrils, so that he can breathe.

The only reason he hasn't removed it himself is because his hands are shackled behind his back. Valan's clothes lie torn to shreds, in a pile against the furthest wall. From the brief look that Irzain had, he witnessed scores of cuts lining Valan's body, from his buttocks and back, to his sides, legs and arms. He even had bite marks on his biceps and shoulders, but not made by the teeth of a human, Falmun or Vizhek. Nearby Valan's bloody, straw mattress is the remnant of some sort of stone altar, and dozens of burned out candles.

Irzain can now recall reading of such altars, built by the barbarians, before the current faith wiped them out. The village men manage to pull the rod from the ground, though it takes three of them, and all pulling at once. Another man then produces strong cutters, sheering off the padlock as a man removes Valan's gag, and another uses a found key to unshackle his wrists. Villagers collect the belongings within. It's clear to everyone that Valan was robbed of his coin purse, though strangely, his custom-built guns were left alone. Irzain is in shock. Why is Valan inside of this hut? Why didn't the women look for him? Did they even know he was gone?!

With the blanket around his waist, Valan is led from the hut. Looking around at the gathering crowd, he spots Irzain. Gently pushing the villagers out of the way, he reaches his companion.

“What happened?! Are you alright?!" Irzain asks.

“I'm alright now. It's good to see you... How long were you looking for me? I didn't think it would take so long." Valan replies, speaking with a weakened voice.

“We weren't looking." Irzain replies.

“What?!"

“I didn't even know you were missing; the women never mentioned that, and I haven't seen Steingar since we left the inn."

Though it takes him a moment, Irzain can see the change as the already weakened Valan looks completely crushed. In retrospect, the older human wonders if he should've lied to his companion. With the most pitiful of expressions, Valan is led to Sovik's hut, where villagers shout for the doctor. They have no qualms about waking the old man. Emerging from the hut, he stares in shock at the wounded Valan, as do the three women of their crew. While it looks as if they care, especially Jarae, who's the most emotive, Irzain can't help but wonder... Did they know about his disappearance, and if so, why didn't they do anything?