Previous Chapters
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Alek
The four-hour mark was surely fast approaching. It had certainly been at least three since Alek had laid down with the intent of sleeping. Strange. Only a couple of hours ago, he had felt that tonight was going very well. Prior to that moment of misplaced optimism, Alek had found himself on the verge of slumber as many as three times already. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, teased by the subtle allure of the dream realm, it would have taken nought but the gentlest of nudges to send him floating off into the abyss. Alas, the gift of sleep seemed utterly devoted to evading him.
Be it a gust of wind causing an unsettling sway of his hammock, the untimely chatter of wild birds in the forest nearby, or the uninvited, yet exhilarating fantasies of a life beyond the coast— it seemed there was always one distraction or another to keep him from falling asleep. Up until about a month ago, Alek had never once suffered the irksome torment of insomnia. He had only the need to lay down and close his eyes to find the sleep that now escapes him. Things were different now, however. With his sixteenth year on Atalas on the horizon, his pathway to manhood was now within sight.
To anyone else, the impending arrival of such a significant time in one's life should be—and often is—cause for much celebration. Had the day of his birth been the only anniversary he must face in the coming weeks, Alek too may have been able to retain this sentiment. Unfortunately, this was not the case. A mere eight days before his upcoming birthday, he would first be forced to acknowledge the ten year anniversary of his time in New Kurukai. That day would signify an entire decade passed since he and his grandmother had been banished to the island.
Until recently, Alek had remained steadfast in his belief that he would one day be free of this prison, with much of his youth spent planning future adventures around Amanak and beyond. The transformation to adulthood however, is not without cost. Every step towards the maturity of manhood, was also a step away from the comforting naivety of childhood. For Alek, this was a heavy price to pay.
The childhood naivety now lost to him, had been a reliable source of ignorance, shielding him from the reality of his position. The absence of that ignorance had now left Alek with a frightening realisation; that his adult life would likely be wasted in the same manner and location as his youth. This prospect alone was enough to consume Alek with fear, leaving no room in his heart for the joyful anticipation of his fifteenth birthday. No. All that he had left to look forward to now was a thousand more nights of lying awake, torturing himself with thoughts of what might be.
With so much more of the same awaiting him in the future, Alek decided that it was time to resign himself from the battle for rest. He had now reached a point where the continued failure to find sleep was provoking a great and terrible anger within him. This same anger, which manifested itself through the grinding of teeth, clenching of fists and excessive hyperventilation, had now become his greatest obstacle to obtaining sleep. Every failure served only to deepen his frustration, ensuring that the following attempt would have far less chance of success. Without a temporary respite and an opportunity to calm down, Alek was certain he would never find the slumber he so desperately sought.
Before so much as opening his eyes to dismount from his hammock, he knew already where he would go. His destination would be the pits. That was the only place on New Kurukai that could make his world feel a little bigger. Though the journey was a short one—a mere five minute stroll through a poor excuse for a forest—to Alek, it seemed a lot longer. His mind insisted on revisiting his oldest, and perhaps clearest of memories. It was the only one he still possessed of a time before his arrival to the island—something his grandmother claimed he ought to be very grateful for.
In this memory, he stood barefoot on the sandy shores of God's Lake, admiring the Great Fortress of Khyra that lay on the other side of the water. Far too hot that day was. The Sun was hurting his eyes and the sand burning his feet, but he did not allow that to bother him. He just looked on in awe at the magnificent structure ahead of him, watching the sunlight dance around the lake, up the great wall and among the hard, flat rocks atop the watchtowers on the Fortress. His mind—much like his grandmother—denied him any further context to the memory. He knew not of why he was in Khyra, nor whom he had travelled there with. It was Alek's belief that the only reason he was able to remember that moment at all, was because of the oath he made to himself on that beach.
Upon the shore of that lake, he had sworn to himself, and to A—his God, that he would have a castle of his own one day. He knew now that it was undoubtedly the silliest oath to ever leave the lips of an Amanaki. With a new found grasp on the reality of his circumstances, Alek felt an overwhelming assurance that—upon his demise—this promise would remain unfulfilled. At least now he had more than sleepless nights to look forward to. Now he could also prepare for the dishonour of an unkept oath that would befall him at his inevitable passing, and A's profound disappointment with his blasphemy. How wonderful, he thought.
For the majority of his life, Alek had considered his memory of Khyra to be a great blessing. He had only the need to close his eyes and envision The Great Fortress to be rewarded with a feeling of deep inspiration. The thought of Khyra was always accompanied by thoughts of everywhere else he intended to go one day. Kapitah, Pavhas, Bhadralok and Bhu. Even cities beyond the shores of Amanak, like Optimax in Primeria and the infamous Baron's Bay in Centrixia.
A thousand locations he dreamt of visiting, yet he possessed no more knowledge of them than the names they bore. Alek didn't mind. In fact, he very much enjoyed sculpting imaginary landscapes on the forefront of his mind. He could not tell you just how many hours of his childhood were spent dreaming up great cities and landscapes— something he would not have been able to enjoy had he actually seen those locations before.
On exiting the forest and approaching the pits, Alek had begun to accept that he could no longer rely on that memory as a source of excitement. It had become a painful reminder of all that he was missing in life, and of how the one thing that he craved the most was destined to elude him—adventure.
Through the distrust of his own powers of recollection, he was able to find a modicum of comfort. Perhaps the castle at Khyra was not nearly as impressive as he chose to remember it. Maybe it only seemed as such in contrast to his present surroundings. If he could convince himself of that, then he could also believe that perhaps every other location that had once been on his list of destinations were also less than impressive. That would make things a lot easier, he considered.
Though it was too dark to see further than an arms-length ahead, the sudden steepness of the ground beneath his feet informed him that the pits were very close. Alek slowed his pace and began to tip toe up the hill, coming to a stop just before the ridge and crouching to the floor. As silent as a ghost, and as still as a gargoyle, he held his position—as well as his breath. Offering a keen ear in the direction of the pits, he listened closely, attempting to discern whether any of the prisoners were awake.
It was not uncommon for Alek to indulge in idle chatter with them at times, but in his current mental state, he cared not to entertain a conversation with anyone. The plan involved nothing more than sneaking up to the pits and looking down on the only people in this world he knew to have less liberty then he did. Though it may be somewhat of a selfish act, it was exactly what Alek needed to find some solace amidst this night of torment.
The silence did not take hold for long. Within a few seconds, the sound of whistling could be heard emanating from above the hill.
"I told you to shut your fucking gob, Red!"
An angry, coarse voice that sounded like Kyzer interrupted the whistling. After a short chuckle, the whistling continued.
"I'll kill you one day—and I will fucking enjoy it too."
The threat sounded more like an admission of defeat and was followed abruptly by a sigh. Alek was now certain that the grumpy voice was Kyzer's. That same threat, in those identical words, had been aimed towards Alek many times before.
As the whistling persisted, Alek was forced to reevaluate his objective. Not one, but two prisoners were awake, so peering down on them from above would not be a possibility. That would only invite conversation, and although Red often had some insightful and entertaining words to share, in Alek's current temperament, it was doubtful that he would be able to return the favour.
In place of his plan to watch over the pits, he opted instead to lie down silently on the hill and listen to Red whistling away cheerfully. He hoped that if he focused on the tune for long enough, he would perhaps be able to share in the joy that Red seemed to have in abundance.
To focus on one singular thing proved to be too formidable a task for Alek and his cloudy mind. Within a moment or two, he had already found himself noticing how far from comfortable lying on the hill was, how cold the night air was becoming, and how irritating it was that a man confined to a deep hole in the ground seemed to be far happier than he was.
Red had always been somewhat of a peculiar soul. He differed greatly from the nine other prisoners that accompanied him on the Western side of the pits. The others were either deranged or intemperate, often acting vicious to Alek and to each other. Red however, was calm and collected at all times. He exhibited an inviolable air of serenity, and was always respectful towards Alek when they conversed.
Alek could never help but feel as though this was one person who did not belong in the pits, but both his grandmother and Red himself had explicitly stated a number of times that he did. That hole had been his home for as long as Alek could remember, suggesting that he was one of the initial captives to be placed in the pits.
Whatever he had done must have been severely awful for him to have been denied an opportunity to redeem himself. Several others were given a chance to rejoin the society that was developing on the island, though each and every one of them ended up back in the pits before long. Red had never so much as asked for a second chance to prove himself. Somehow, he appeared to be content with his living space.
Alek's best guess was that Red had found himself in his current predicament through choosing the wrong side during the reformation of the island. Being only five years old during those days, his memory of the event was rather limited. Though he had learned more of what happened back then through talking to others who were there, most people sought to change the direction of the conversation any time that it was mentioned.
It was understandable. During the reformation, many had lost members of their family in the most brutal of fashions. For those that had, thinking back on those times must be like reliving the loss all over again. Still, Alek remained curious about the full story. Perhaps through that knowledge he would also learn of why Red was in the pits.
An abrupt end to the whistling reminded Alek of his position. Deep thought had distracted him from the decreasing temperatures, but now he was able to notice that his arms were clutched tightly around his shivering body. This was by far the coldest he had ever been. The icy embrace of Death mustn't feel too dissimilar to this, he thought. Alek knew that, should he not find some lower ground at haste, he may very well find out if he was right about that theory.
On first attempting to move, Alek's body declined to obey his will. The cold had numbed his arms and legs, rendering them all but useless. If it hadn't been for the terror he felt in the face of freezing to death on the hillside, he may never have regained control of his body. Luckily, the fear brought with it a powerful adrenaline rush that served to quicken his heart rate. Within a minute, his blood had warmed enough to restore partial functionality to his limbs, allowing him to crawl to his feet. Amidst a bout of uncontrollable shakes and shivers, he began to carefully make his way down the hill through the darkness.
"Where are you going?"
It was Red's voice that spoke, causing Alek to stop dead in his tracks. The question could not have been aimed at anyone other than him. Everyone else on the hill was stuck at the bottom of their very own fifteen-foot hole. They were not going anywhere. Alek tried desperately to remain silent, but the sound of his teeth chattering grew louder by the second.
"Alek?"
There was no doubt now that Red was aware of Alek's position on the hill, though the frozen boy had no idea how he had alerted Red to his presence. The situation reminded Alek of another occasion when Red had greeted him moments before he arrived at the top of the hill. It was beginning to seem as though Red hadn't the need to use his eyes in order to see.
"Are you going to tell me why you have come?" Red inquired patiently.
Alek could no longer find reason in pretending he was not there.
"Okay, okay," he conceded. A new intensity of shivering caused his tone of voice to fluctuate, as if imitating the sound of ghost.
Alek was half-sure that if he climbed to the top of that hill, he would never come back down. Rather, he would remain a permanent part of the scenery after being frozen stiff, looking like a statue sculpted of ice. Nevertheless, he turned himself around and began to make his way up to the pits.
The climb seemed to take a life time, and by the time he reached the peak, his legs had begun to numb once again. Being mindful of his footsteps so as not to land himself in a hole of his own, he limped over to the edge of Red's pit and peered down to see two bright eyes glowing in the moonlight, surrounded by nothing but blackness.
"Catch."
The word was followed instantly by a gentle thump on the head. Alek's hands instinctively shot up to grab what had hit him on the face. It felt soft, and much to the delight of his hands, warm too. Alek quickly realised that it was a rolled up blanket. Some of the others had woven blankets from papyrus weed to keep the prisoners in the pits warm through the nights.
It smelled a little funny, but that was not enough to arouse even the slightest of hesitation in Alek. He swiftly unrolled the blanket and threw it over his shoulders, letting out a satisfied sound of relief.
"Thank you, Red!" Alek proclaimed.
Red paid no mind to the gratitude offered to him.
"Why were you hiding?"
Alek sat down, hanging his legs over the edge of the pit and tightened the blanket around his torso.
"I will tell you, if you tell me how you knew I was here."
The two glowing eyes staring up at the boy were swallowed by the darkness as Red turned away.
It was just as Alek had expected. He would not have made the offer if he had believed that Red would be forthcoming with his explanation, for he certainly did not want to share his.
A moment passed before the moonlit eyes returned to meet Alek's gaze.
"You have a strong heart," Red explained.
The boy remained silent for a moment, attempting to make sense of the words. Alek certainly did not feel as though he had a strong heart. If he did, then surely he would have been able to retain his faith that he would one day escape this island.
"You are wrong, Red, " he mumbled. "My heart is weak."
Red remained silent, yet his eyes remained fixed on the boy. Alek began to feel afraid. Though the two had spoken hundreds of times in the past, the sun had always been out to accompany them. Tonight was different. To see nothing other than two glistening eyes staring back from within that deep, dark pit, provoked a feeling of discomfort within the boy.
In an effort to break the silence and stave the awkwardness that was overwhelming him, Alek added a follow up comment.
"I knew you wouldn't tell me."
Red chuckled and replied, "I have already told you what you want to know."
Alek hadn't a clue as to what Red was talking about.
"No you didn't!" The boy complained.
Red responded with silence yet again.
Alek began to think on what Red had said. This was by no means an unfamiliar set of circumstances. Red had a habit of speaking in riddles, leading Alek to spend many of his hours seeking an understanding of the words shared with him by the prisoner.
"I have no idea what you mean, and I don't feel like trying to figure it out tonight." Alek's voice revealed his exhausted mental state.
A deep laugh began to echo from the bottom of the pit.
"Your heart is strong... And your stench potent!"
The laughter continued, with an ever-increasing intensity.
Alek ignored the first sentence. Enough of his brain power had been sacrificed attempting to figure that one out. No time was needed to decipher the meaning of the second sentence, however. Red was clearly accusing Alek of having a foul smell to him. So foul in fact, that Red was able to identify him from over twenty feet away with no line of sight.
Though he knew he ought to be offended, Red's delivery of the insult seemed to negate any indignation that Alek should have felt. The blow was also softened by the prisoner's laughter, for to Alek, it seemed to be born of exuberance rather than ridicule. Perhaps it was merely wishful thinking on Alek's behalf, and Red was in fact laughing at the malodorous stench emanating from the boy. Nonetheless, the continuing hysterics echoing from the darkness of the pit led Alek to follow suit.
"Quiet, you little shits!"
From the adjacent hole in the ground, Kyzer's ill-tempered words could be heard, but his agitation served only to increase the volume and frequency of the other two's laughter.
For two minutes at least the laughter persisted, drowning out the continuing words of protest in the next pit. After the laughter had finally subsided, Alek saw the return of the glinting white eyes as Red returned his attention to him.
"Warmed up now, yes?"
The boy had been so distracted he hadn't noticed himself remove the blanket from around his shoulders. Only a short time ago, he had found it a possibility that he might die up on that hilltop. It had only taken Red a few words—and one insult—to divert Alek's mind from the cold, and from the troubles that had been keeping him awake. Though, Red would never know of the tremendous amount of appreciation Alek now bore for him because of it.
"Yes. Thank you."
Alek responded passively, masking the true depth of his gratitude. Should his response have been too enthusiastic, Red may have known that he was being thanked for more than a blanket. The boy cared not to answer any questions that might follow that suspicion. There was perhaps no one better qualified than Red to give advice on dealing with a lack of liberty, but Alek felt that to discuss his feelings of claustrophobia with a man confined to a hole in the ground, may be perceived as ungrateful.
"Excellent. Now return my blanket and get out of here. Some of us are trying to sleep."
Alek chuckled in response to Red's comment, but this time, the laughter was not returned.
"About fucking time!" Kyzer added.
A look of confusion covered the boy's face, though it was far too dark to be seen.
"Okay, Red," he said whilst throwing the blanket back into the pit.
Alek expected Red to confess that he was merely joking, yet the only reaction provided was that of the eyes disappearing into the darkness.
"Go on then, boy. Fuck off."
For the first time in the night, Kyzer received a reply.
"Shut up, Kyzer," Alek teased.
"I will—"
"Kill me one day and enjoy it. I know I know.."
Alek stood to his feet whilst responding in mockery to Kyzer's trite warning.
Eager to get the last word in, Kyzer added, "That's right, boy. I will."
As he tried to make sense of why Red had so suddenly put an end to their conversation, Alek began to make his way back down the hill. The conversation—albeit a very short one—had taken the boy's mind away from his feelings of constraint. Though that had been his intention when deciding to visit the pits, he now questioned how long he would be able to resist the return of his worries. He picked up the pace, eager to get home and to sleep before the inevitable return of his afflicted state of mind.
Making his way back through the forest, he was greeted by the sound of chatter. The voices seemed to be originating from the direction of the campsite, but the sun had not yet risen and Alek could think of no reason why everyone would be awake. Slowing his pace, quietening his breath, and lightening the weight of his footsteps, he crept his way towards the campsite. All attempts to discern what was being said fell miserably short of success. Too many voice were speaking simultaneously, filling the forest with an unintelligible stir of echoes.
Nearing the exit to the forest, Alek snuck behind a tree, hiding himself from view of the camp. The voices had become more frantic, and he now worried for the safety of his grandmother and the others. There could be strangers that have somehow found their way to the island with the intent of causing harm, he considered. Paranoia prevented him from developing any more hopeful explanations to the situation.
Hiding himself from view of the campsite, he peeked beyond the tree line towards the voices. The darkness defeated his vision, denying him a view of anything more than the ground before his feet. As an alternative, he stretched his head out beyond the tree and extended a searching ear to the darkness.
No opportunity to listen closer was granted. An unexpected hand landed on his shoulder and firmly spun him around. For the second time tonight, Alek was sure he was going to die.
"Where've you been, boy?!"
The fear of death left as quickly as it had arrived. It was Riki's voice.
"We've been looking all over for you, Alek. Your grandmother's worried."
Riki was a good friend of Alek's grandmother, and the newest member of the Council of New Kurukai.
"I couldn't sleep," Alek replied, revealing only half of the truth.
"Save your excuses for your grandmother." Riki spoke in a hurry.
"Come with me. Quickly."
No time was wasted after giving the order. He sped off towards the camp with Alek following closely behind.
"What's going on?" Alek inquired with a panic-stricken voice.
"You need to ask? Look!"
It was too dark to see if Riki had pointed out a direction, let alone what that finger may have been directing him towards.
"I can't see anything in this light," Alek complained.
They had almost arrived at the campsite now, and Alek was able to see a mass of overwrought bodies pacing around, illuminated by a freshly lit campfire. Still, he had no idea what the cause of this hysteria was.
"What am I looking at, Riki?" Alek pleaded.
Riki began to run purposely towards the crowd, yelling out, "the ocean, boy."
Alek used to spend the majority of his time staring out at the ocean, fantasizing about the day that he would explore the world beyond the horizon. Recently however, he had been going out of his way not to look in its direction. He feared to spare it so much as a glance would only remind him of his confinement to a small island, in a world of colossal size. Allowing his eyes to gaze upon the ocean now, he discovered the source of panic within the camp.
No more than a mile or two off the coast, orange-red flickers of light could be seen illuminating the sails of a ship. Within a second of Alek laying his eyes on it, the flickering light transformed into violent flames as the head sail was set ablaze. The growing intensity of the flames provided enough light for Alek to witness bodies diving off of the ship to safety.
After a long night of failing to comprehend one thing after another, this was one thing he did not need someone to decode for him. The ship was likely carrying the next batch of exiles. This was reason enough to panic, for it was never known whether to expect the arrival of political prisoners, or truly disturbed and violent criminals.
The entire ship was now burning, with flames reaching so high in the sky that the clouds—previously hidden by darkness—were now visible directly above the fire. Coloured by the flames, the clouds were beautiful, but Alek's next realisation was not.
The abandoned ship would invite more than just prisoners to the island. There could soon be a great number of soldiers arriving at the beach, and the safety of all on the island was now in peril.
"Fuck."
