Journey to the Forgotten Island

Chapter 37 - Return

The shrieks echoed out to sea. There must have been thousands of them. Flying in circles, searching for prey. Raging eyes. Swooping down to catch and eat their victims. Some even dove into the ocean, bursting back out with an explosion of water. The gulls of Duro City were infamous for their ferocity.

The ship creaked and shook as ropes were thrown over the gunwales and tied by the sailors. So used they were to making the trip from the empire to the island that all the mystery had gone out of it. Exploration and adventure had become a simple voyage: labour, routine.

The air was dry and salty. The sky was blue. The sun shone as it always did upon Duro City. The Isle of Magoa, in the midst of winter, with its freezing gales, snow and grey skies, was far away. From the deck of the ship, Ami could see the tall palm trees that had fought and broken through the roads and paths. He liked to imagine those palms as young saplings, first finding a tiny crack in the concrete and stone, avoiding the boots of Duro people for years until one day growing tall enough to be visible. As young trees, the palms were no longer as vulnerable to the crush of men's feet but had to weather storms, droughts, floods, had to survive the saltwater. It seemed an impossible feat – but then some palm trees grew and shot up to the sky. Ami saw himself in those palm trees. He had fought to survive in his horse tribe, he had fought to survive as a merchant, and now he was finally free. He was like a palm tree, shooting upwards towards the sky. What he would do with his freedom was another matter.

Ami pointed the attendant carrying his luggage to the military carriage that awaited him. He smiled pleasantly at the street urchins and hawkers who crowded the ships from Magoa, seeking custom or charity. Ami gave them what they never got, what they were all hoping for. He threw a handful of tiny gold nuggets and watched them gasp, momentarily shocked still by the gleam of the gold, before scrambling to grab what they could. He was by no means a rich man; he was to be paid less than a Captain's salary for his service in Magoa. But, as some Westerners, he still, secretly, deep in his heart, believed in some of the gods, believed that bad deeds must be repaid with good deeds.

The carriage took him through the grand boulevards of the city. The cobble roads had been replaced with smooth concrete in some central areas and the carriage glided as smooth as a ship on a calm day. It was only now, seeing the great city, that Ami realised how small and sad their famed, golden town of Adelmoville on Magoa had been. Adelmoville had its sights; the gold market in the central town square, the growing commercial district, the tall city walls with the largest packs of wolves and herds of deer ever seen by men. The citadel, with its tall towers, that seemed to grow ever taller, was always awe-striking. 

But Duro City was a true imperial city. Adelmoville was still a wild place – muddy, small, chaotic, dangerous – in comparison. In Duro City there were goods from the world over, from the southern empires and free territories. The people walked around in clothes of all styles, fine silks, linens, hemps and wools of every colour and cut. There were too many taverns and wine inns to count. There were large, beautiful squares with trees and flowers where singers and musicians would play to the people of the city for the applause and fame more than the iron coins. There were racecourses, arenas, betting holes, theatres – the brothels would all be gone by now, moved to Solapailtea and Magoa. There were shops selling crafts, furniture, jewellery, clothes, spices, vegetables, grain, weapons and books. The people he passed in his carriage seemed comfortable, safe, at home. There was a noticeable spirit of freedom in the air – people seemed joyous and celebratory. The announcement that the empire would soon allow people to choose its leader had given them hope. There were songs and chants about the great and gracious Emperor King Ignacio, who seemed more loved than ever by his people. The Duro Empire was a terrifying and cruel force to the people who resisted its conquest, but to the Duro citizens, and to Ami, at this moment, it seemed the most beautiful and peaceful place in the world.