The Last Aayu: Book 1 - Ashes

Chapter 5: Derelict pasts

Dawn approached swiftly, the early morning sun casting a pale glow over the horizon. Utahis stood on the deck of the ship, his skin prickling as the sub-arctic winds battled with the wan sunlight for dominance. Sleep had eluded him the previous night, his mind a tempest of doubt and determination, much like the waves that crashed against the distant, foreboding shores of the island.

With meticulous care, Utahis checked his knapsack one final time: flint and steel nestled beside a coil of sturdy rope; a waxed canvas sheet folded neatly for shelter; a pouch of dried fruits and nuts for sustenance; and a small metal pan that gleamed dully in the early light. The weight of the pack was a comfort, a tangible reminder of his preparation for the unknown trials ahead.

Kip, a grizzled sailor with kind eyes, had volunteered to ferry the young Acolyte to shore. His weathered hands worked efficiently with the other crewmen, lowering the rowboat into the choppy waters below. As they worked, Overseer Ushak emerged from below deck, his presence immediately commanding attention.

"Have you all your provisions, Acolyte?" Ushak's somber voice cut through the morning air, snapping Utahis out of his thousand-yard stare at the island.

Utahis turned swiftly, straightening his posture as he leaned against the railing. "Yes, my Lord," he replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

Ushak nodded, his face an inscrutable mask. From behind his back, he produced a seax - a crude but effective weapon. The long, one-handed knife boasted a keen edge, its iron handle wrapped in twine for a better grip. Though it resembled a short sword in length, its balance spoke more of a laborer's tool than a warrior's weapon. Yet, in the face of the unknown, it was a welcome addition to Utahis' meager arsenal.

"My Lords," Kip called from below, his voice tinged with apprehension. "We're ready to drop ya' off on shore." The sailor's smile was forced, betraying the superstitious fear that gripped many of the crew regarding the island.

Ushak's nod was almost imperceptible. "Time to go, Utahis," he said, his gaze boring into the young warrior-to-be.

Utahis drew a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He took the seax, securing it to his belt with practiced movements. Slinging his knapsack over his left shoulder, he approached the ladder with measured steps.

As Utahis began his descent, Ushak leaned over, his voice barely above a whisper. "Utahis," he murmured, a hint of genuine fear flickering in his normally stoic eyes, "No matter how cold you get, nor how dark the night, do not light a fire." The intensity of Ushak's gaze and the abruptness of his command left no room for questions.

Utahis nodded, swallowing hard as he continued down the ladder. Kip stood below, arms outstretched, ready to steady the Acolyte as he boarded the small craft. Once settled, Kip took up the oars, his powerful strokes propelling them towards the shore.

As they pulled away from the ship, Utahis glanced back. The crew lined the railings, their silent waves a solemn farewell. The weight of his task settled upon him like a physical thing, as tangible as the mist that clung to the waters around them.

With each stroke of Kip's oars, the island loomed larger, its craggy shores and dense forests promising both danger and destiny. Utahis squared his shoulders, his gaze fixed ahead. Whatever trials awaited him on that cursed island, he would face them. 

"Do you think he'll make it, Overseer?" Captain Lance asked, his voice low with concern.

First Officer Sumayyah chimed in, her tone sharp with accusation, "There's a reason none dare set foot here. You haven't sent him to his doom, have you, my Lord?"

Ushak sighed heavily, his weathered hand rapping twice on the deck—a sailor's superstition for good luck. He turned to face the vessel's commanders, his expression inscrutable.