The Shores of Hedreary Ocean, a place with history bloodier than the Fanning of Iruil. The spiky waves of the ocean cause the shores to moist, which cause lands to dampen as well, though that is only what the scholars say. In truth, the dampen ground was the cursed effect of all the blood that's sucked deep into the soil. That was too, why no green grows there, not anymore. Not after the Battle it last host.
Jejtsu, Cassav, Berick, and Iuftas arrived only an hour ago. They sit in regret. They had missed the last ship on a voyage to their destination. But then again, they hadn't much hoped to begin with. They sat in silence on the slopes of the hill overlooking Hedreary, waiting for one of them to hatch a plan on how they are to get to Moss Island.
It had been awfully uneventful since their most eventful commotion at the Cutthrough Forest, but it seems words always travel, exaggerating every little detail of an event.
They strayed off the road and stride only at sundown when sons and daughters of the night came out to play. One traveling group of actors they met along the way on the dreaded purlieu of Quanakoi had relayed to them a tale they had heard on Quanakoi while they were putting on a play at a wedding. They told them of how demons and angels fought on the Cutthrough Forest near the home of a deserted witch. Quite an exciting tale, to be honest, but very stretched afar from the truth.
To add to that they have also heard from a hermit of a goddess who calls the clouds to fall to aid her. Dragons are seen once more, soaring the sky with flame and order, the hermit also states.
Quite the time to be alive. Dragons and goddesses, angels and demons. Neighboring kingdoms fighting to death and mermaids seen by drunken pirates. Such a time.
Jejtsu clawed at the ground, her fingers dipped in the cool earth. She feels her nails growing cold as well as her skin, she closes her eyes in appreciation for a moment.
There was no point in waiting for a ship now, it had sailed. When it will be back, only the ship's captain knows. Although when they reach the Shore they saw something peculiar, the tail of three ships heading for Moss Island. Three. Never had a ship more than one sail at the same, as far as they're concern. Now they saw three making their way over there. Why?
Why indeed? Jejtsu wondered just how much thinking did Xarabia do in all his years of leading a band of cocky idiots. A band of thieves, all of them would've been had the Shīza didn't take pity on them. Beggars and robbers are what they are. At least almost all of them. Only Cassav is of true Shīza born. The rest... the rest were unborn. And for the first time ever. An unborn is chose to lead.
Such was the pressure weighing tons, pulling on her waist. She was no fool, she knows that if the plan and mission fail. There will never be another unborn chosen, and for more unborn to be chosen she need to ensure their survival. They didn't have too much hope for Hermis and Alfaus.
Is a Shīza meant to be badly wound for all times? Wounded... on the inside? Our scars rooted deep within us never really healed, do they? It was sickening, worrying endlessly. We desired for survival to die only at the journey's end. Perhaps some questions are better left unanswered. Sighing, she looked older than her thirty-two age. She even looked thinner, like the branch of a guava tree.
"THERE'S A WASHED-UP GUY HERE! OVER HERE!" Yelled Iuftas, three hundred strides away, one knee buried on the mud, checking the pulse of the man washed up on the stony wet shores. No doubt Hedreary was beautiful, but something beautiful that is dirty loses its beauty by and by.
Jejtsu rushes to Iuftas and the golden-haired boy along with Cassav and Berick closely on her tail, their ragged colourless outfits flapping wildly. The boy's chest was heaving up and down slowly, slower than a hurried tortoise. Iuftas was having his index and middle finger on the shirtless boy's neck. "He's still alive." He announced, sounding astoundingly shocked. "Judging from his appearance... this boy should be dead. Death by drowning or..." He hoisted the boy up to show his chafed bareback. "Or by torture." He looks quizzically at the others.
"Him being here can mean only one thing." Jejtsu inquired to Cassav. "He came from there." She said, tilting her head in Moss Island's direction, the other nodded solemnly. "Is it possible to wake him?"
Iuftas shakes his head, "I'm not sure... he's a tough one but... we don't know who he is. He could be Leafsinger. He could be a simple man. He could be a user of Ill. He could be... just a captured man tossed out to the water by sailors. I can only give him a normal kind of treatment."
Jejtsu nods, "Alright. Let's take him up on the hill."
"That I can manage." Said Berick, carelessly hanging the unconscious boy on his shoulder. They stride up the plain hills.
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Jejtsu often proud herself for having keen sight and hearing abilities. Not that that is any kind of ability, it was something she's born with and every day she's grateful for it.
Though at times she also often hate one or the other, the majority being her ears. She has heard loads of information she didn't wish to obtain with these ears of hers but right now, there is nothing she is more thankful for than her top-notch hearing.
The sun was saying farewell and stars were making their entrance but it seems the moon was still shy of the orange light cast on them, making twinkles of flinching light that were stars in their own rights in the ocean.
The washed-up boy they found on the beach was lying face down on Cassav's blanket at Iuftas' request. Before anything else, applying ointment on his back was the number one priority in his opinion. No point in being alive only to find your wound still unhealed, he had said. But Jejtsu's concern wasn't with her fellow Star or the unknown boy or the Island they can see but not reach or the demons who ended Xarabia, Hermis, Alfaus or her aching muscles or her unending doubt on oneself. It was on the twigs that cracked and the brown leave bushes that rustle as if slithering things reside there for a mere heartbeat when they reach the hill earlier.
It goes quiet as it happened and has been quiet ever since. That hadn't stop her paranoid nature from being on guard. Every once in a while, she would glance back nonchalantly but it would always remain quite still. Had it been my imagination? No... couldn't be. Animals? Lizards?
"Berick, the medicines have dried. Help me make him lie on his back, will you?" Said Iuftas. The old strong man obliged him.
He had been awfully quiet, Jejtsu realized. He had barely talked unless spoken to since they left Korrvin five days ago. 'Yes' 'No' 'Mmm' 'Thank you' 'Sorry' was all the sound coming out of him.
Grief can be dealt with in very different ways by very different people, not one way is the right one and, in Jejtsu's opinion, there is no wrong way. His way, it seems, was to think about them, all the hours of the day and night, even at sleeping hours, dreaming about them. Acting like the death that occurs doesn't bother him but Jejtsu saw, she always does. The pain in his eyes. The anger in his eyes. The suffering.
"I've been thinking..." Said Berick suddenly, in a manner of making an announcement, immediately drawing all three attentions to him. "Do you think it possible that... this boy... is the grandson of the Leafsinger?"
If they had been quiet before, they had grown all the more quieter. They glance from one another. Could be, I wouldn't be surprised if he is. Jejtsu scratches her chin thoughtlessly. Nothing appears to shock her these days. She feels the worse had happened. For what was worse than the death of loved ones.
"Haven't thought about it..." Cassav trailed off, possibilities running through her mind. The sky was like a sapphire now, with the sun finally saying goodnight. "Say this is the grandson of Gariel Faiyshal, that makes it impossible for us to heal him."
"WHAT!" Shout an unknown voice from the bushes. The Shīzas jolted and were on defensive mode in mere seconds after composing themselves. "WAIT, WAIT!" The voice called out again.
Two raised palms sprang up from the bushes, followed by the most ginger of a hair they have ever laid eyes on that is on top of a chubby-looking face. "I mean no harm." Said Neania, hands still in the air. Her smile was enough to make Berick off guard, which was an enormous success. "Pardon me but... I think I know that guy and I think I can heal him."
YOU ARE READING
The Wilting Ballad
FantasiIt starts with the killing of an entire luckless village. It starts with a capture. It starts with a murder. What if the villain is chosen by higher power to fulfill a prophecy that will change the lives of all who resides on the continent of Iruil...