Mirror of the Past

Dace 8- The past will burn

As the night progressed Dace felt a stirring in the wind, in the darkness beyond the boat. His blood began to tingle unpleasantly as heat flickered through his veins, threatening to burn him, threatening their whispers. "Ugh." He grunted, pushing back the feeling into the corner of his mind, closing himself off to the world and beyond it as he had done numerous times before. Disconnecting himself from the destiny fate, and someone else had tried to lay down before him. Too long had he followed a predestined path, he was not going to let it dictate to him what he had to do. The cold air nipped at his back, causing tingles down his spine to be met with the tingling in his blood, becoming stronger, whispering, talking, and goading him to close his eyes and dream.

He looked around himself, across the deck to ensure no one else was watching. Silence had gone under the deck to join the others in sleeping, Fillt had walked away from his man Sail to doubtless frown at all the sleeping men. The slaves had rotated the workers, a new fresh set now sitting at the oars as the sun was expected to rise beyond the horizon beginning a new day. Even Tylo was absent, having drank more than a half dozen full bottles of cheap wine, he had staggered across the helm and half fallen into his first mate's arms, a large Far Southerner, ebony skin crisscrossed with tattoos and scars in equal number. Dar'Qhu was his name, and he currently stood with arms crossed beside the ship wheel staring off at nothing in the darkness. Dace hadn't seen him before, and assumed the man slept during the day while Tylo and the sunlight crew did the majority of the work.

That only left the mysterious man Sail, who sat still on the railings, back to Dace but one eye glinting from his hood as if staring at Dace. He must feel it too. Damn it. The air around him shimmered as Dace crushed the last of the sensation within his body, pushing the clawing darkness further and further away. The burning feeling receding as the blood in his body began to shout and scream, silenced now once more. Standing up Dace leaned over the railing and spat into the water below. He knew he was being watched and once more he probed Sail's mind, only to see nothing, no thoughts, no memories or even a trace of emotion. Unusually, worried Dace wondered if it was this man causing the attack on Dace's mind, on his body. If the man was striking him from different angles to take him out there and then or draw some power out of him and into his own blood. Cautiously Dace began to mould the power around him, a barrier over his body that was imperceptible even for a God. He had hard practise at keeping himself unseen, unheard and unfelt, but no change was felt inside Dace and he knew the man was simply watching him, innocent. That leave only one other. Shit. Those that could commune with the darkness would have to deal with the visions, their minds would not be strong enough to push it back. Sail's one eye almost rolled as his head tilted back. Hah! It was petty, but knowing he was stronger, the strongest always gave him some joy. But what was it trying to show me, it certainly seemed important. Dace thought to himself, knowing that the pushing of the darkness into his blood and mind was never that ferocious unless it was a punishment for committing a crime against it, or manipulating the world around him for his own benefit, which Dace had to admit was often. No, something's wrong. Something has or will happen.

The sun clawed its way upwards, the first rays of light opening the world around them. Gulls could be heard, indicating the land nearby, if still unseen as of yet. Their calls pulled Dace out of his thoughts, out of his worry and his planning. I can't step back on the path laid by fate. He had tried to convince himself. Dar'Qhu shouted orders and for a sailor to bring Tylo back up on deck, most certainly going to be hungover and irritable from the night before. The first person to break from the deck below and into the sunlight surprised Dace by sprinting to the fore of the ship, a bow in one hand. "The gulls are singing!" Gorlop shouted, knocking an arrow in his bow and squinting up at the sky above him. "They wish us to follow!" The arrow flew from his hand straight into the air, moments later a splash could be heard from the side of the ship. "Shit on the gulls as they shit on us." Dace was entirely confused, the seriousness of the events mere moments ago this this display of insanity thoroughly set him off balance.

"The gulls, the gulls, the gulls." Gorlop chanting, launching arrow after arrow into the sky above, each time a splash coming the sea below. The other killers had moved onto the deck now, standing on their own or in groups talking. Silence was back in his old seat beside a new slave, who was shaking with fear as the big man nibbled daintily on a piece of stale bread. Sail had moved to stand beside Fillt, in the shadows of the helm, robe pulled even more tightly around him. For a brief moment however Dace glimpsed the sight of skin in the hood, dark green, snarling tattoos covering every part, swirling upon themselves and written in a language incomprehensible, or even just made up.

The trio of chains looked on with humour at Gorlop's frantic shooting, the number of shafts in his quiver slowly diminishing. "You'll run of arrows!" Mort called out, raising his middle finger at the gullcatcher's back. Calm chuckled loud and deep at that, while Breaker sat polishing one of the heavy curved swords, sitting against the railing across from Dace. Sim and Humber were comparing axe's showing each other different methods of swinging them. And no doubt how to crush skulls. Dace mused as Sim jumped up and down bringing the axe down beneath his legs and laughing as the muscles on his arms bulged. That left only the narrow eyed Fist Brothers, who had told no one their real names since they had boarded the ship. They were talking to themselves beside the main mast, both wearing the spiked gloves on their hands, as if they were very eager to punch someone with them. Their beady little eyes showing no glint of intelligence in the sunlight. Whereas it glinted brightly with madness in the last man to stride up into the fresh air.

"Morning all of my heroes." Tylo shouted, swaying gently on the balls of his feet, another bottle of wine in his hand. Dar'Qhu walked down the stairs of the helm to meet him, and snatched the bottle from him. "Hey, you big, dark bastard, what do you think you are doing?" Dar'Qhu answered in Southern, only Dace it seemed understanding the rumbling words and laughing at Tylo's shocked expression turning to laughter of his own. "Too true my friend. Wet your lips then and anything else you take in to hand." The black man nodded and lumbered down into the deck below as Tylo stood at the front of the helm, his arms wide. "We will reach land in the next few sun's hands. Until them my friends, feast on the brilliant sea air. We are now officially in the waters of the Far South. Where piracy is honourable, and whoring yourself requiring more skill than the artists in Kerda have to offer. Our first stop is Tellan's Point, where we will collect a little bag of money and maybe a girl or two." Tylo paused for a moment as several of the killers and his own sailors cheered. "Then on to Sanctum's Reach." No. "The temple that has recently just been given a large sum of money from a certain bank. And what's more, disciples, the majority of whom I heard from a completely unreliable source, are young and have never once had a man before. Virgins always seem to make the best priestesses." No. "What do you say boys? Let's raid the fuck out of the temple, fuck the old gods, and enjoy the company of money and flesh instead." No. The men around Dace shouted and cheered, Gorlop dropping his both to dance and clap. The fist brothers smiling to themselves with undisguised lust. The trio of slaves nodding to one another, Breaker rolling a coin between the gaps of his knuckles, curved sword glinting deadly in the sun. This wasn't the plan. Dace expected to round up a few farmers or mercenary's camped in the wrong village for the night. Sim and Humber began swinging their hips, pretending they had an axe between their legs and laughing. This is too far. Fillt raised his heavy barbed spear up to the sun, the light of its flames glinting off the black metal. He should have felt the visions of the darkness, he wasn't sure but it may have been warning him against this. I can't. He still had some loyalty to the religions of the Gods.

Sail tipped back his head and laughed, the dark hood coming off and falling around his neck, hanging limp. A face of melted skin, streaked in dark green lettering visible for all, his mouth only gums except two razor sharp canines, a tongue slit like a snake's. His eyes almost all black pupil in the stained green balls of his eyes, no white to be seen. The face of a monster from the fires of hell, laughing at the prospect of felling one of the few remaining temples on the Northern coast of the Far south. Laughing at destroying more of the past, trodding over the mistakes and the regrets of those who came before them. Creating humans was truly the mistake of the Gods that would haunt them until the memory of their creators was lost in time and flames forever. "Let's burn the traitors!" His voice was gravelly and broken, grating on Dace's ears and causing him to wince. It wasn't normal, it wasn't fully human. It was evil.

It seemed the path of his fate had come full circle from when he left it those years ago. "Protect the teachings of the past, and the religion that keeps the memory of the Gods and me alive with your life."