Impossible, Yannon thought as the rope seared the flesh from his hands. He tightened his grip, attempting to ignore the burning pain, but it was like nothing he’d ever felt before and soon the rope slipped from his grasp. He tried to reclaim it while monster waves flooded the deck, blinding him and half the crew.
The oarsmen powered forward even though the waves lifted the long ship so high that their oars barely skimmed the water. Yannon heard the Master Oarsman, Braag shouting commands, but the inexperienced men weren’t responding as each seemed to row towards their own purpose. Soon, Braag was up from the bench and striding down the port side, kicking and shouting at his men, his voice barely audible over the wind and rain.
“Ya good for nothin’ dastards. Are you afraid of a little water? Have ya forgotten who you are?”
“We’re Immortals.” The crew said as one and Yannon found himself saying the words as well. They should’ve been a comfort to him, but his burning flesh said otherwise.
“And we live forever. So tell me,” Braag continued. “Why do you panic like mortals about to die?” The crew had no response, but Yannon knew that Braag’s words had been heard. He re-took his place with oar in hand and set the pace; swift yet smooth. His oarsmen fell in line and were again powering as one.
Braag’s words seemed wrong to Yannon and his hands were proof. The mast had cracked and was ready to fall, but Yannon and five others were holding it steady while Jobis climbed high to cut the sail loose. Yannon wondered if the other men were experiencing pain as well. That’s why they are frightened. It was like nothing he’d experienced, as pain wasn’t something an Immortal ever had to endure. Then it finally dawned on him. If I can feel pain, I can die. His thoughts drifted back to the day he lobbied for the position as Captain and tried to recall the reasons that led him to such a foolish decision.
It had been two hundred years since the doors to the Great Hall of Aposte had been opened and all in the city knew that an event was about to take place that would shape their future. It was only the second time they had been opened during the current Lord Commander’s thousand year reign, and as with all in Aposte, Yannon’s curiosity was peaked. A hundred rumours spouted throughout the city; each claiming knowledge as to why doors stood ajar, but Yannon trusted none, for only the Lord Commander and his Grand Captains would know.
Yannon could only speculate what would happen behind the ivory doors as he was neither royalty nor a person of importance; being a simple historian was not likely to gain him entry so he tried to put thought from mind, but the seed of curiosity continued to grow. He joined the gathering crowd outside the steps of the Great Hall and watched as the procession of wealthy merchants, princes and high ranking officers marched up the stairs and through the towering doors. At the rear came the Lord Commander of the Drudari Army, Vintosh. His hair flowed long down his back, tied tight yet leaving a sharp widows peak above his forehead. His face was a stone while his dark black cape dragged on the steep steps. Surrounding him were his three Grand Captains. Yannon knew them at a glance for each was famous for various deeds of valour. On the Lord Commander’s left strode Ennari.
Ennari was the only woman to ever serve as a Captain in the Drudari army. It was common knowledge that women were considered the weaker of the species, not fit for serving in man’s wars, so Yannon gathered that Ennari must be more ferocious than any man he’d ever met to have landed such a prestigious position. Vintosh’s decision to give her a turquoise cape had come under much scrutiny, but she had proven herself worthy again and again.
Flanking Vintosh’s right was Quitos, who had been the Commander’s first selection when anointed, though it was well known Quitos was the most dastardly of the three. He hid it well with an upturned nose and a flare of arrogance.
Behind Vintosh marched the most famous of the Grand Captains, Yeino. But it was not his deeds or valour that attributed to his fame, but the mysterious circumstances surrounding his birth in the Dying Lands across the sea. Yannon read that Yeino was raised among the savage people that populated them and adopted aspects of their culture. A scar that ran from his left ear to the corner of his mouth was his most renowned feature as Yeino was the only Immortal to have ever been scarred. A passage in the book ‘Beyond our Boarders’ notes that he is the only Immortal to ever see the Dying Lands and return to speak of them.
Yannon felt the crowd thicken around him, pushing towards the Great Hall in a claustrophobic mass, with no choice but to move with it. At the bottom of the stairs, a line of guards stood with their arms linked in an attempt to keep the filtering crowd in check. The crowd pushed forward and Yannon felt that he was being thrust to the front. He tried to turn back, but the mass was too heavy to work through. Soon, he was face to face with one of the large guards that blocked the entrance. The guard scowled, and Yannon could see the man’s bulging eyes as he held his partner’s arms tight; muscles tense with the weight of the crowd.
It’s only a matter of time before the crowd pushes through, Yannon knew and didn’t want to be around when it did. Further rows of guards lined the stairs and the entrance to the Great Hall, but before long, their services were needed to hold back the flooding crowd. The large guard kept his gaze upon Yannon until a fist came from nowhere and landed square on his jaw. The fist struck again and the guard was forced to removed his arm from the link and defend himself. The weight of the mob drove Yannon forward and soon, he and a few others burst through the ranks unseen with a clear lane to the unguarded doors.
No good can come of this. Yannon knew he was trapped. He couldn’t filter back into the crowd unseen and if he did proceed into the Great Hall, he knew a Forever Cell would await. The two other men that burst through were leaping up the stairs when two guards with long square shields came from within to force them back, knocking them down the stairs then pouncing on them and roping them hand and foot. Yannon didn’t want to go inside, but knew he had no choice. He double hopped the stairs to the doors, hoping that there were no more guards lurking within. At the top of the stairs, he turned to see the crowd below- locked together by the link of guards- and realized he’d made it unseen. He turned and went through the doors.
I’m inside. He thought. If I’m caught... A voice from behind startled him.
“You, what are you doing here?”
Yannon’s first instinct was to run, but instead he slowly turned with a smile. “I seem to have been separated from my group. Can you point me in the direction of the council?” He wasn’t sure if it would work, but at that point, anything was better than being locked in a Forever Cell.
“Who do you belong with?” The guard narrowed his eyes as he looked Yannon up and down.
Yannon had to think quick. Who went by that’s important, but not too important? “I travelled with Pwintis, the merchant.
The guard smirked. “Pwintis you say? You’d be better off in a Forever Cell than working for that sack of shit.”
“Yes, well, the pay is worth the shit.”
“I guess.” He pointed. “Continue to the end of the hall and through the doors, but be quick, they're about to start.”
Yannon nodded and made his way to the doors and realized that he was about to pass into the Decision Chamber, a place where the most famous decisions in history were made and a place where few of his stature had cast eyes.
He took a deep breath then pushed open the giant doors and walked inside, head down in an attempt to hide his face. The room was large yet crowded, with mammoth stone pillars in each of the four corners that supported the domed roof. Yannon looked up to see a marvel of paintings within the dome. Flowing knots provided a sensuous boarder while scenes of Immortals from the past seemed to dance above. He sat on a bench at the back to keep out of sight as the Lord Commander took his seat on the dais. He slammed his hand onto the table to quiet the crowd before he spoke.
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’ve been summoned here today. Well I will tell you this, it is time we take back what is ours." The crowd shifted restlessly. "For too long now, this Tangran and his rebels have been taking what belongs to us and it’s time we put it to an end once and for all.” A murmur rushed throughout the room and Vintosh again slammed his hand to silence them. “It’s no secret that our forces have depleted over the centuries. Tangran is a ruthless bastard and has taken many prisoners of war. What he does with them, we do not know, but we’ve sent scouting missions to find them, each time turning up empty handed and less in number, so desperate times require desperate measures.”
Yannon looked around the room to see the nervous glances exchanged.
Vintosh continued. “It’s been over two thousand years since a ship left the borders of Amaranthine, but our peril steadily grows and I fear without aid, the Drudari way of life will be lost. It is to the Dying Lands and the savages we must look to for aid.”
Men leapt from their seats in a tide of anger as the entire crowd erupted. Vintosh let them quell amongst themselves before silencing them with his booming voice. “You’re opinions will be heard.”
A short man in a long purple robe with greasy red heir stood to voice his displeasure. “You expect us to allow these… savages into our paradise? Who’s to say they don’t join up with Tangran? And what use will these warriors be to us if they’re dying left and right?”
With that, the room began to wager its agreement, but Vintosh raised his hands to silence them once again.
“All valid points, Pwintis, but from what we know, the hearts of savages aspire one thing above all else… wealth. And we are not in short supply of that, am I right?” The mood lightened as the Aposte nobles nodded their approval. “And they’d gladly throw their lives away for such riches.” He smirked. “Savages are easily tempted and though we lack the sheer numbers of Tangran’s army, we more than make up for it with our wealth, something he could not offer them.” The crowd nodded again, more vigorously this time and the Lord Commander could feel them swaying to his favour.
Pwintis again voiced his opinion. “And where does your intel come from? We have never had contact with these supposed savages. How do we know they even exist?”
Yeino stepped forward. “Because I’ve lived among them.”
“And we are supposed to take your word that these savages will fight out of greed? And how do you propose to get them here? No Immortal has ever left Amaranthine and returned.”
Vintosh interjected. “We will send a long ship large enough to carry three hundred savages, a fair number but not enough to overwhelm our men. Depending on their skill and quality, we’ll send further ships and increase our numbers before we strike. They’ll be as our slaves, first to go to battle yet last to be rewarded, for they’ll be knave to our plans. But first things first, we need to know the state of affairs in the Dying Lands. It’s possible they’ve completely destroyed themselves over the last two thousand years. And if they have, well, they have one thing we don’t… an affluent supply of land.”
The crowd jumped up again, forgetting Vintosh’s previous wit and sounding a thunderous cry of outrage towards their Lord Commander. Before the crowd could be hushed, Pwintis spoke again as it seemed he was the only one brave enough to voice his opinion to Vintosh. “So you would abandon this beautiful land where we’ve dwelt since time before remembering, and have us live as savages in the Dying Lands?”
The blatant lack of respect caused Vintosh’s face to twitch. “I’m not suggesting we run as dastards, Pwintis, but merely insinuating that expansion should not be out of the question.” He watched as Pwintis retook his seat. “The fact remains that Amaranthine grows in beauty, yet not in size, whereas the Undying Lands are vast, yet void of true beauty. Once we’ve conquered Tangran and his rebels, we should look to expanding our territory in an effort to prevent future wars.”
From the back, Yannon saw Pwintis stand then quickly take his seat again as if he had no retort to Vintosh’s well planned comments. Or it could’ve been because all three Grand Captains reached for their weapons at once.
There will never be an end to war. Yannon knew.
“Now that that’s settled,” Vintosh said calmly. “We’ll need to decide who best to lead this voyage.” The boisterous room died to deathly silence as none offered up suggestion. “Who here is willing to step forward? I’m aware that none of you has experience at sea, but there must be someone who desires fame and fortune and perhaps a rise in stature, no?” His sharp gaze swept the room, but it was as if he were preaching to a garden of statues. “Fine then, it appears I will be forced to make the appointment.” He turned towards his Grand Captains who stood at attention. “Since no one in this room wishes to rise in rank and fortune, I’ll have to send one of my cherished Grand Captain’s. Yeino, step forward.” Yeino did as the Commander bid, but Yannon thought he sensed hesitation as if Yeino were unhappy about the prospect of being sent to the Dying Lands. “You will be captain of the first ship as you’re the only one to ever set foot upon the Dying Lands.” Yeino bowed and was about to accept when Yannon spoke from the back.
“I’ll captain the first ship, Lord Commander, if it pleases you.”
Vintosh searched the room, unable to detect the source of the voice. “Who speaks?”
Yannon stood and started towards the dais. “I am Yannon, a historian, though I’ve studied the old ships and I’m confident I know more about seafaring than anyone in this room… perhaps all of Aposte.” He bowed low.
“A historian? How did you get in here?”
Yannon didn’t answer.
“In any case, my decision is fina-.”
Yeino broke his silence and interrupted Vintosh. “Lord Commander. I’d as soon rather not return to the Dying Lands. My place is here, defending Aposte.”
Vintosh turned on his Grand Captain in rage, but Yeino would not be interrupted.
“And with the end of your term quickly approaching, I will take this time to let all know that I will not let you go unchallenged for the rank of Lord Commander yet again. I will challenge you for the post and may the council make the right decision.” He faced Vintosh and gave a wry smile. Whispers bounced from wall to wall and Yannon saw the fiery rage behind Vintosh’s eyes.
What have I done?
“You disobey an order, Captain Yeino?” Vintosh said through gritted teeth.
“No, but my place is here to challenge you for the Commandership of the Drudari. A thousand years is long enough and it’s time new blood took control.” He reclaimed his position next to Quitos and once again fell into statue like stillness.
Yannon saw Vintosh seething as he turned to face him. “So be it.” He turned to Yannon. “Looks like you get your wish, historian. Do not fail me or you’ll spend eternity begging for mercy from the comfort of a Forever Cell. Now, prepare yourself, you leave in two days. And do not think about changing your mind or disappearing, because we will find you and who knows what we’ll do then.”
Yannon bowed. What have I got myself into?
Quitos spoke as the Lord Commander exited through the large doors at the back of the dais. “This concludes the council. All decisions are final and are to be kept secret at all costs. Should word of this reach the public’s ears, we will be reassembled and quarantined until the traitor amongst us is identified.”
With that, the merchants, royalty and officers took their leave, but Yannon sat himself in an empty seat in the first row. Why? Why would I do that? I’ve never dreamed of glory or living above my station. My life was fine, mediocre, just the way I liked it. Right? He asked himself, now unsure of the answer. He was startled by a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Captain Yeino’s stout figure. Yannon quickly stood and bowed. “Captain Yeino, it’s an honour.”
“You’re a fool, but a fool I must thank, for I had no desire to return to those lands.”
Yannon stared speechlessly at the Grand Captain, trying hard not to let his eyes wander to the scar.
“But I’ll warn you, things are different away from Amaranthine.” He pointed to his scar and Yannon finally allowed himself to look.
Yeino extended his hand and Yannon grasped it. “I won’t fail the Lord Commander.”
“Perhaps upon your return, I’ll be Lord Commander. If I am, know that you’ll hold a place of great honour in my heart.” And with that, he left.
Yannon sat there for a little while longer, contemplating the magnitude of his precarious position before leaving with the tail end of the nobles.
Outside, the crowd had once again been blocked off to allow the nobles to pass by un-harried. Yannon was the last to leave the hall and once outside, two large men resealed the doors.
The walk home passed in a blink as worry filled his mind. I must be brave, for the good of the people. If I fail, our people may be enslaved under Tangran. But the words of warning were all too clear and Yeino’s scar was all too real. Perhaps I’ll return with a scar of my own.
For two days and two nights, he remained hidden in his dwelling, pouring over old maps and drawings of ancient ships. He studied their inner workings, remembering things long forgotten and recalled stories of ships leaving Amaranthine, never to been seen again. He recalled his trips to the port where the old ships stood as ghosts for as long as he could remember. I’ll be riding one of those ghosts. The weight of it began to mount and he wasn’t sure he could go through with it. Perhaps they’ll forget me and find another fool to captain the ship. But as if hearing his thoughts, there was a knock at the door. He put down the book titled, ‘Beyond our Borders’ and opened the door to find two large guards dressed in thin leather amour. Each carried a spear and had a long black rope tied to their hip. Yannon knew there was no turning back, not unless he wanted to see what the inside of a Forever Cell looked like.
“It’s time.” One said, as if Yannon were being collected for execution. Yannon left his house and didn’t bother to close the door behind him. I fear I’ve read my last book, was his grieving thought as he left his old life behind.
He was snapped from his thoughts by a fork of lightening that struck the waves near the starboard side. It was close enough that he felt its heat. The deck was slippery as Yannon struggled to keep his footing and hold the rope. Jobis finally cut the sail loose, just as the mast snapped in half. The rope was tied tight around Yannon’s hand and he tried to let go as the mast went crashing down, but it was too late. The rope gripped hard and tore off his pinkie finger. The pain seemed to rip through his whole body while his blood poured freely. He screamed, but it was drowned by the sound of the wind and waves. I don’t envy the savages. He tried to halt the bleeding by putting the bloody stump in his mouth, but the taste was too bitter to stand. The burning pain consumed him so much that he didn’t notice Jobis had been tossed overboard or that the mast had fallen towards the bow, landing on a number of oarsmen, killing them instantly. This is it, Yannon thought as the bow of the ship began to sink, pulling men down with it. He watched Braag struggle to keep hold of his oar, but a punishing wave put an end to that, and Yannon knew he’d never see him again. His finger became of little consequence as men fought for their lives around him. He clawed his way to the back of the long ship as the tail rose high, while the remaining men clamoured for a piece of wood to cling to. I don’t understand. One moment it’s bright and sunny, the next, waves are crashing over our heads.
And then he saw it, but didn’t quite know what it was. It came at him like lightening, striking harder than a galloping steed. Next thing he knew, he was surrounded by freezing water, the salty liquid filling his lungs. He flapped his arms and kicked his legs, realizing too late he never learned to swim. The current clutched at his feet like heavy chains, pulling him deeper and deeper until his vision was fogged by the murky gray water. His chest tightened as if a mountain had fallen on him and the salt stung his nose. History has already forgotten me, was his final thought as his world went dark.
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