the ISLE

Family

(Also, the End)

The cold rush of water pulling against his body opened his eyes. The sting of sand under the lid made him blink rapidly, his eyes stinging. A full moon lit the night. As far as he could see were endless miles of sand, backed by the solid outline of thick trees. Waves grew stronger, tugging at him as the tide changed. Struggling to his feet brought a grimace, his body aching over the punishment it had taken. His canoe capsized by the storm, he was fortunate to not have drowned.

The familiar weight of the spear brought him some comfort, though looking around he felt some anxiety at his present circumstances. Supplies went with the canoe, all he had was what he carried on him, which was woefully little. Limping heavily, he made his way from the water. Twisted and dragging slightly, his left foot slowed his progress down the beach, digging into the softened sand.

The spear he used more as a crutch now than a weapon. In his prime, though, he had proved a formidable warrior, slaying so many they called him Death Hunter. It was a title given with fear and spite, for he'd slain those of his blood, his heritage. The warrior Gesang considered it a mark of honor, for, in those brief, vicious moments of battle, they had been afraid of him. It was a fortunate blow of a sword blade that brought him down, slicing along the edge of his knee, and cutting to the bone. After that...the Anaiya were not kind to prisoners of war.

Rhamat had demanded answers about Topan, his daughter, and the infidel, but the information he wanted had been staunchly denied him. Gesang refused to speak at all, and they could force nothing but screams from him. Angry, desperate, with fading hope of his daughter's return, the Anaiyan chieftain had no mercy on the man who was once one of his own. If he could not have satisfaction, he would have revenge!

Completely blind in one eye, Gesang's face was disfigured by deep scars. Due to the months he'd spent tied in an awkward position in between tortures, he could no longer stand up straight. Broken bones had been left to heal on their own, limiting his range of movement. One of his ears was missing, as were two fingers on his right hand. The penalty for keeping silent was a heavy one. Still, with his one good eye, he looked at the world with fierce pride, for he was alive, and now, he was free!

As a prisoner, Gesang waited patiently for such an opportunity, and he had boldly taken the moment when it presented itself. The Anaiya never said a word to him about what happened on the cliff that day, so he never knew what became of his family. His only certainty was that Jack and Nuri were not captured, nor had Rhamat killed them. Enduring torture, humiliation, and public rejection for those whom he loved had tested the kind of man he was. That he was still alive was a strong indication his family was alive but over the years, he had lost hope of seeing them again. Never though, had he given up trying to escape. He was not quite twenty-two annuals when the chance presented itself.

The night of his escape found his guard weary and careless, underestimating the strength in the broken body of this Death Hunter they held captive. Hearing his screams had dulled their fear. Sliding him a plate of food, the guard had leaned in too close to the doorway, not as wary as he ought to have been. A strong arm shot out and wrapped around his neck, pulling him inside. Held immobile, the guard was helpless as Gesang choked the breath out of him, his other hand tightly pressed over his nose and mouth. Death came quickly and Gesang left the tiny hut for the first time in years.

Silently hobbling, he had made his way to the chieftain's dwelling. It was still inside so he slipped in and found Jack's ivory spear displayed prominently on a nearby wall. No one was there, so the escapee took it, along with some food and water. Making his way to the beach, staying in the cover of deep shadow, he found the majority of the village occupants at the beach, circling a bonfire. It was the festival of the Blood Moon, a thought that made his lips twist in a wry smile. Fitting on this night.

Knowing the feasting would last far into the night, he headed for the canoes and grabbed the first one he came to. Setting it in the water, Gesang managed to get in. Taking up the paddle, he thrust hard toward the open ocean as fast as his ruined shoulder would allow. A rumor had been circulating that a cursed island lay three days' journey toward the setting sun, and he headed that way. It was his safest course.

The isle lay abandoned, feared by the Anaiya, the tribal elders forbidding anyone to come here. All Hunters sent out as scouts never came back, their canoes were found later floating upside down in the waters offshore of the island. Bodies never resurfaced, and families mourned devastating losses. Whispers of evil spirits grew. Unafraid of curses, the young man had chosen his flight wisely. The Anaiya would not pursue him to these shores. They did not dare.

The storm had caught him just as land came into sight beyond the rise and fall of ocean swells. Survival on his own would be difficult now, but the challenges were welcome to him, for it was by his own choosing. With some effort, he collected kindling and fuel for a small fire and was soon warming and drying himself. The night shadows flickered and danced across the darkness, casting moving figures where no one stood. Forcing his mind to turn from ingrained superstitious fears he lifted the ivory spear in his hands.

Though the weight of the shaft and keen blade brought him comfort, sleep did not find him. A deep voice rumbled in his memory, a long-ago night when he'd been a boy, listening eagerly in the flickering firelight. 'Ghosts are not real, but predators are. Never let down your guard.' He must be wary.

Dawn gradually broke through the night sky and drove back the shadows, bringing color to the surrounding forest, sparkling across the ochre shore. Burying the embers under the sand, the crippled warrior chose to head along the coast toward the rising sun. Birds began to chatter quietly to one another. The chill from the damp night air was quickly replaced by the soothing rays of the golden sun and he basked in the feeling. Shuffling along, alert for anything that might serve as a meal, Gesang glanced over at the forest edge. What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

Three sets of footprints were in the sand, the first large and deep, the second smaller and lighter, but the third small and delicate. Hobbling closer for a better look, a shout of laughter bubbled from his lips as he gripped the ivory spear firmly in his hands, sudden tears of joy cascading down his face. Those tracks were as familiar to him as his own voice!

"Jack!" Roaring the name, Gesang stumbled in the direction the trail led. "Jack! Nuri!"

He kept calling, almost frantic as the trail turned inland. Surely, they could hear him? The footprints were not very old- In the distance, a figure appeared from between two jagged edges of stone. Gesang couldn't see who it was, but he knew. With the same certainty that had kept his mouth closed during Rhamat's demands, he knew who it was. Swaying to a stop, the ivory spear lifted over his head in a gesture of victory.

"Brother, I live free!"

Thank you all so much for coming along on one of the first adventures I ever wrote! 

~ Sara