) Spoiler
Throughout the ages, heroes and rogues had passed in and out of legend. Some were never forgotten. Some were never meant to be remembered. Time flowed on as the river, leaving behind those who could not stay afloat in its swift currents. But often the water was of ice and the stories that sank below its choppy surface were not truly lost. Within a frozen embrace, the Drowned Ones waited, faces perfectly preserved. And the Remembered drifted on.
A certain drowned hero lay along the sandy bottom of the river, his cloak snagged on the branch of a buried log. His long hair flowed about him as the current pulled on the blackened locks. If one ever gazed upon him, they would think he had found peace. Thin face imitating deep slumber and arms hanging loosely at his sides, yet he was just as restless as the Remembered. Fragmented living memory kept him hidden somewhere in the minds of his people, not quite forgotten, but still too heavy to float.
His people had thought he would make it. He was their martyr, their symbol of the holy things. The Qaitu of Somni had no religion. Indeed, they needed it not. They had the sea and they had him. And it was their devotion to him that kept his mind from accepting the cold and dark of the forgotten world.
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Somewhere along their coastline, they had located a small cave. The hurricane winds had buried it beneath the sand, deeper with each passing year. Tsunami waves washed it all away while the Awe-Tempest raged. In the morning, they found it filled with magnificent treasures. Jewels that sparkled with a radiance rivaled only by the sun, sharp-edged weapons of gold, rarities from foreign lands.
They knew at once that they had found his secret cove. It was the proof of his exploits, his dalliances with queens, his ventures with military men and pirates alike. The gold beckoned to them with a voice of wind chimes and a roar like waves upon the beaches. Such wealth was something the Qaitu had never seen before. So tempting it was. But they could take nothing for they knew their hero would one day return to claim his riches. They hoped in vain, though over time, their certainty diminished. Despite the fervent prayers, he never set foot in his cove of treasures again and his drowned body never came to rest upon the shore. He had simply vanished.
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Wind whipped at his long hair as he steered his ship toward the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. His vessel pleased him, as she was far more advanced than the usual canoes of the Qaitu. She was larger with a tall mast and a triangular sail of pristine white cloth. Countless excursions to the northern coast of Alveus had inspired the design. How proud it had made him then to think himself worldly enough to build such a creation.
Now, he could not feel that pride. It was just him, his ship, and the Awe-Tempest. The island of Somni grew ever smaller as the fierce wind carried him away. The Qaitu depended on him, all their hopes resting their full weight upon his shoulders. Gliding closer to the horizon, the inky storm clouds crawled out to meet him. Their indigo forms churned like the icy sea below it, strangling the azure of a tropic sky until nothing but darkness remained.
He was not afraid of his sacrifice. No, certainly not frightened. Instead, he found excitement in the uncertainty of it all. Perhaps he would live to see the consequences of his actions. Or perhaps not. And maybe the latter was a better option than the former. His years of adventuring and pillaging had made an outcast of him. The Qaitu could never forgive his sins, never allow him to live as a normal man would. He was half-certain he would be imprisoned for the crimes he had committed if ever he decided to return to them.
So he met his fate valiantly, throwing his head back to laugh triumphantly. The wind snatched away the sound immediately after it left his lips. But it had existed and the defiance of it nearly made his chest swell with pride.
A large wave rose from the ocean, suddenly, as though it had been dragged up by an invisible thread. The pirate felt a familiar weight fall upon his back. He turned his head just in time to see his calaveras monkey crawl up onto his shoulder and wrap its tail around his neck. Understanding passed between them and, with a final victorious shout, the captain steered his ship into the chilling embrace of the Awe-Tempest’s first wave. Whatever remained of ship and body sank, appeasing the sea god, saving Somni.
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The sun began to sink below the watery line of the horizon. A young boy sat atop the thatched roof of his hut, watching. He wondered briefly at how the radiant orb could drown every night only to be born again the next morning. Not thoughts the other boys had, but he never minded being a little odd.
Silently, his calaveras monkey hatchling crept up his back and onto his shoulder. It was hungry again, he knew, so he dug around in the pockets of his trousers. He brought forth a few small nuts and offered them to his companion. With a soft noise of appreciation, the monkey ate what it was given.
Sighing, the boy returned his gaze to the horizon. His companion seemed to do the same, perhaps merely curious as to what had captured his attention. Though the boy liked to think that he and the monkey were closer than that. They were friends the way he saw it and they always would be. Deep within him, he was certain of that truth. Everything else was a mystery to them, but their simple truth kept their eyes on the future, wondering, and hoping that, one day, they would unravel those mysteries together.
A certain drowned hero lay along the sandy bottom of the river, his cloak snagged on the branch of a buried log. His long hair flowed about him as the current pulled on the blackened locks. If one ever gazed upon him, they would think he had found peace. Thin face imitating deep slumber and arms hanging loosely at his sides, yet he was just as restless as the Remembered. Fragmented living memory kept him hidden somewhere in the minds of his people, not quite forgotten, but still too heavy to float.
His people had thought he would make it. He was their martyr, their symbol of the holy things. The Qaitu of Somni had no religion. Indeed, they needed it not. They had the sea and they had him. And it was their devotion to him that kept his mind from accepting the cold and dark of the forgotten world.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Somewhere along their coastline, they had located a small cave. The hurricane winds had buried it beneath the sand, deeper with each passing year. Tsunami waves washed it all away while the Awe-Tempest raged. In the morning, they found it filled with magnificent treasures. Jewels that sparkled with a radiance rivaled only by the sun, sharp-edged weapons of gold, rarities from foreign lands.
They knew at once that they had found his secret cove. It was the proof of his exploits, his dalliances with queens, his ventures with military men and pirates alike. The gold beckoned to them with a voice of wind chimes and a roar like waves upon the beaches. Such wealth was something the Qaitu had never seen before. So tempting it was. But they could take nothing for they knew their hero would one day return to claim his riches. They hoped in vain, though over time, their certainty diminished. Despite the fervent prayers, he never set foot in his cove of treasures again and his drowned body never came to rest upon the shore. He had simply vanished.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wind whipped at his long hair as he steered his ship toward the storm clouds gathering on the horizon. His vessel pleased him, as she was far more advanced than the usual canoes of the Qaitu. She was larger with a tall mast and a triangular sail of pristine white cloth. Countless excursions to the northern coast of Alveus had inspired the design. How proud it had made him then to think himself worldly enough to build such a creation.
Now, he could not feel that pride. It was just him, his ship, and the Awe-Tempest. The island of Somni grew ever smaller as the fierce wind carried him away. The Qaitu depended on him, all their hopes resting their full weight upon his shoulders. Gliding closer to the horizon, the inky storm clouds crawled out to meet him. Their indigo forms churned like the icy sea below it, strangling the azure of a tropic sky until nothing but darkness remained.
He was not afraid of his sacrifice. No, certainly not frightened. Instead, he found excitement in the uncertainty of it all. Perhaps he would live to see the consequences of his actions. Or perhaps not. And maybe the latter was a better option than the former. His years of adventuring and pillaging had made an outcast of him. The Qaitu could never forgive his sins, never allow him to live as a normal man would. He was half-certain he would be imprisoned for the crimes he had committed if ever he decided to return to them.
So he met his fate valiantly, throwing his head back to laugh triumphantly. The wind snatched away the sound immediately after it left his lips. But it had existed and the defiance of it nearly made his chest swell with pride.
A large wave rose from the ocean, suddenly, as though it had been dragged up by an invisible thread. The pirate felt a familiar weight fall upon his back. He turned his head just in time to see his calaveras monkey crawl up onto his shoulder and wrap its tail around his neck. Understanding passed between them and, with a final victorious shout, the captain steered his ship into the chilling embrace of the Awe-Tempest’s first wave. Whatever remained of ship and body sank, appeasing the sea god, saving Somni.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun began to sink below the watery line of the horizon. A young boy sat atop the thatched roof of his hut, watching. He wondered briefly at how the radiant orb could drown every night only to be born again the next morning. Not thoughts the other boys had, but he never minded being a little odd.
Silently, his calaveras monkey hatchling crept up his back and onto his shoulder. It was hungry again, he knew, so he dug around in the pockets of his trousers. He brought forth a few small nuts and offered them to his companion. With a soft noise of appreciation, the monkey ate what it was given.
Sighing, the boy returned his gaze to the horizon. His companion seemed to do the same, perhaps merely curious as to what had captured his attention. Though the boy liked to think that he and the monkey were closer than that. They were friends the way he saw it and they always would be. Deep within him, he was certain of that truth. Everything else was a mystery to them, but their simple truth kept their eyes on the future, wondering, and hoping that, one day, they would unravel those mysteries together.
Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed.
