Survivors of Corrica Read online

  Chapter Five:

  Zeldos’s Decision

  For several weeks, Porran’s boat island-hopped within the boundaries of Corrica’s empire as he and his crew replenished their food and water stores, bought more supplies, and even tried to hire more crew members when some deserted and they needed more rowers to relieve the stressed, inexperienced ones. They reached the first few islands before news of Corrica’s destruction had started to spread.

  At first, the stops were fairly routine as the boat’s crew and passengers acted like they were on an ordinary voyage traveling through these waters with nothing to worry about. However, the sailors and visitors to the island were quick-paced, hurrying about their business so that they could leave soon, and circumspect so that they wouldn’t get caught lying about what had happened to Corrica to outsiders.

  A few people like Hasbas and Marko warned fellow Corricans on the islands that a disaster had occurred, but it was difficult for them to describe it in a believable way to those that hadn’t seen the devastation. They could only impart and stress their warning to others before they left, quickly returning to the vessel so that it wouldn’t sail off without them.

  Eventually the lack of any other traffic and news from Corrica became more noticeable as they continued on, with people wondering where all of the other travelers were to Porran and his crew. Then by the fourth island, the news had reached the people living there before the arrival of Porran’s boat that Corrica was gone.

  Hardly anything was left of it, according to sailors that had traveled close to its remnants before they were forced to turn around by the dust and smog cloud covering it. Just a miserable mess and a few stragglers that had managed to get away from the wreckage before they were killed.

  At that point, the Corrican empire began its downfall with merchants refusing the Corrican coins, sneers and jeers coming from those who’d been subjugated by the empire, and then protests against their presence, forcing the Corricans to flee. Soon Porran and his crew had to carefully plot their trajectories, heading to deserted or smaller islands where there weren’t as many people, trying to find a home where they could be safe and still find food and water.

  Now the passengers and crew argued about their best course of action, if they should settle down peacefully somewhere, out of the way from harm, or if they should rally more Corricans, displaced from the other islands, to claim a settlement or home for their own. Zeldos grimaced to himself as he listened to them, wondering why he hadn’t left sooner.

  At the first island, Zeldos was too sick to disembark when he’d apparently eaten some bad food. Wilama, a former priestess, helped comfort him while a girl named Wintha glanced over at him. Then as time went on and he felt a little better, Zeldos spent more time with Wilama, who was one of the nicest people he’d ever met, always looking out for him and ready to take care of and listen to him.

  Perhaps he should’ve been more suspicious, wondering what a former priestess would see in a former slave like him, but it was nice for once to have someone genuinely concerned about him when he’d been forced to fend for himself most of his life. She wasn’t unattractive either, he realized, as she showed off one of the ritual dances they performed at the temple, laughed at all of his jokes, and complimented his singing and stories, too.

  Wintha mostly stayed away from them, allowing them space to court and fall in love, but she sometimes glanced back, keeping an eye on them. Maybe he should’ve noticed that Wilama redoubled her efforts whenever they were near or on land, drawing him away from any thoughts of leaving her and deserting the ship. But he was too distracted and caught up in the heat of the moment to notice that his chances for slipping away were withering, the farther along they went.

  Finally, on one of the last foray missions before they set out into uncharted waters beyond the limits of Corrica’s empire and exploration, Zeldos wandered off the boat with Wilama holding his hand when he noticed something. It was a small island like many others they’d been to, with vegetation and wildlife much like any other, yet the land formation and a forest near the shore made him realize he’d been here before.

  He could almost hear his mother singing, calling his name as the wind rustled the trees and Zeldos gasped, clutching Wilama’s hand for support. He nearly fell onto the ground, crying, while she stared at him.

  “This is my home. This is where I came from. I think I belong here.” Zeldos told her.

  “How can you know?” Wilama asked, looking around. “This area seems to be deserted, there aren’t any people around. I don’t think it’s settled.”

  “I’m telling you, this is my home!” Zeldos yelled, letting go of Wilama before she could react and running off.

  “Come back here!” Wilama shouted, frantic as she turned back to Wintha. “What should we do?” She asked the girl.

  Wintha hesitated. “Let him go for now. He might return.”

  “Might? Since when have you been uncertain?” Wilama huffed, annoyed, and Wintha felt stung by that.

  Zeldos raced into the forest his mother came from, searching for any signs of human habitation or presence, trying to scour his memory and recall whatever he could of his past life before the Corricans took him away from here. But he couldn’t remember anything aside from that horrible day, and the years that followed after.

  Then he stumbled upon an old, overgrown trail and followed it until he found the ruins of a camp that might’ve been his home once. He staggered around the site, looking at the dwellings that were cruder than what he was used to in a wilderness he couldn’t imagine growing up in.

  An ancient man approached him then, wearing barely any clothes, and spoke to Zeldos in a language he didn’t understand. He stared at the stranger, struggling to comprehend him when he felt like he should know what the words of his speech meant, yet he couldn’t remember them.

  He’d forgotten his old language, the one he used to know before he was introduced to and learned the Corrican tongue. Perhaps the memory and understanding of this speech might come back with time and immersion into this environment he was once familiar with, but Zeldos realized he couldn’t stay here now.

  He couldn’t live like this anymore when he’d been exposed to the world beyond this location. Corrica had ruined him in a way, spoiled and prepared him for a different life than this one. He couldn’t learn everything he needed to know to survive in this forest without grave suffering, and he wasn’t ready to commit to such a lifestyle.

  He wanted something else besides this existence. He couldn’t return to his childhood so easily. Zeldos soon left the man, who might’ve been his father for all he knew, and the camp behind and retreated through the forest, eventually finding his way back to the beach and Porran’s boat, where Wintha and Wilama were waiting for him.

  Maybe he’d followed the path his mother had taken, trying to escape the Corricans, before they were captured by them on this shore. Now he was willingly returning to them, like the captive he was, unable to leave them. He was trapped.

  Zeldos couldn’t stop crying as he hugged Wilama and she patted him on the back, not knowing what upset him so much, but she still comforted him all the same. Wintha glanced at the forest Zeldos came from, studying it, and nodded.

  “There’s another world somewhere else, another person too.” Wintha said to Zeldos, not adding anything more as she returned to the boat.

  Zeldos stared after Wintha, not comprehending her words, as Wilama frowned at Wintha’s pronouncement. But he still followed Wintha with Wilama by his side back to the vessel, climbing onboard and taking his place at his oar like he’d never left it. Maybe he’d never leave this ship and they’d continue traveling into the unknown.

  ℜℜℜ

  So Zeldos wasn’t in the mood to debate when, as they sailed past the last known islands, they hit a fog bank unlike any other Porran and his crew had seen before. The sailors were stunned and they stopped rowing as the other passengers followed suit, wondering what was going on.

>   The wind had died down, as if completely blocked by the wall of mist stretching out before them, a literal wall made up of a cloud. The mariners had seen plenty of different types of fog in their time, but never anything quite like this. Porran stipulated how odd and strange the event was as he met with Marko, Geneva, Anya, Hasbas, Mogame and other representatives of the passengers.

  “You can literally reach out and touch the haze, that’s how solid it is.” Porran said, trailing his fingers through a wisp. “We’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “What should we do? Go around it?” Marko asked.

  “As far as we can tell, there’s no way around it, or we’d have to row a lot farther out.” Porran said.

  “Maybe we should turn around and go back, settle down at one of the other islands we passed by.” Hasbas said.

  “No, we can’t do that.” Wintha suddenly said, standing up and confronting the group. “We have to keep going through the haze. It’s the only way for us.”

  The others stared at her. “Excuse me, my dear, but we’re discussing a very important matter.” Geneva said.

  “I know, the fog, and while it may seem pretty solid, there’s a way through the mist, and once on the other side, we’ll find our new home.” Wintha said. “We’re close to a new land, far larger than any we’ve ever known, a whole continent to explore. There’ll be so much more than you can possibly imagine in this new world.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Porran shook his head.

  “She might be right, though, if this precipitation could be condensing around a land formation.” Mogame remarked, observing the phenomenon. “Captain, have you known land masses that affect condensation like this?”

  “Yes, there are some areas along coastlines where vapor tends to gather, in and around mountainous terrain or marshland, but this type of smog is unlike any we’ve ever seen before.” Porran said.

  “That may be true, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist somewhere we’ve never been to before.” Mogame remarked.

  Geneva gazed at the murkiness and nodded. “You know, she might be right. I’d be willing to go through the fog, if Mogame says it’s possible, too.”

  “How about we put it to a vote then?” Porran said, turning to face everyone. “We’ll vote if we go through the haze, or if we’ll go back to another island.”

  The main party agreed and so the voting began with one side of the ship designated as going through the fog, and the other as turning around, with people lining up on which option they preferred. Everyone split up, with Wintha, Wilama, Buzzbo, Marko, Mogame and Geneva amongst those who voted to go on through the miasma, while Dahlia, Corr, Porran, Anya, Lapida and Hasbas joined those who voted on turning around.

  “How could you side with going back, Anya? Especially when Wintha said we should keep moving forward?” Wilama asked her friend as she clutched Wintha’s hand.

  “We shouldn’t always trust Wintha to get things right with her prophecies, especially when she might have her own preference we don’t share.” Anya said and Wintha grimaced at her.

  “How dare you side with Buzzbo?” Dahlia said to Marko, rocking their baby. “Don’t you want us all to be safe in familiar territory?”

  “This is my choice. It doesn’t have anything to do with Buzzbo.” Marko told her. “It’s because I want us all to be safe that I think we should keep moving, and see what’s on the other side of that peasouper.”

  Corr sided with his brother and sister-in-law as he assumed they had the right idea. No matter what, he wanted them all to be protected and comfortable, and he knew they might have a better chance at survival in a terrain that was at least known to them, even if they weren’t intimate with it. He didn’t know what lied beyond the haze, but he didn’t trust that strange girl Wintha who always seemed to be staring at him, and saying the oddest things.

  Mogame remarked, “I thought a sailor like you, Captain Porran, would be interested in exploring a new discovery.”

  “That depends on what one can expect on the other side, and I’d rather not take my chances, especially with all of you to look after.” Porran said, facing the scholar. “Now please excuse me, I’m trying to count heads and you’re distracting me.”

  Porran counted everybody on each side, including himself, and realized that it was split just about evenly, except for Zeldos, who was still standing in the middle of the aisle, looking around at everyone. They waited expectantly, gazing at him for his final verdict, the tie-breaker, and he didn’t want anything to do with them after everything he’d been through.

  Yet he still had to choose which way they’d go, what’d happen to them, and what his fate might be in the process. He wanted to leave them behind, yet he didn’t have anywhere to turn to if he did, no one who’d care for him, except for maybe Wilama, but that was doubtful.

  He studied Wilama, the pleading expression on her face, and contemplated the possibility behind Wintha’s words. If the girl was right, and she’d been right about the volcano, just like Mogame had been, then there was another stretch of land beyond this smog, larger than any island they’d been to, large enough for him to get lost in.

  If Mogame agreed with her, then that was good enough for him, so Zeldos wandered over and chose to go through the mist with them. The others who wanted to turn around groaned, Corr amongst them, but Porran held to his promise and ordered them all to return to their benches, as they were going to start rowing again into the fog.

  So they continued on, pushing their oars as hard as they could when there wasn’t any wind to buoy them, and they trudged into the miasma, not certain where they were going. They could barely see anything in front of them, the haze covered everything, and even distant parts of the ship were hard to make out.

  As they progressed, the air seemed to sparkle and shimmer with a shine they’d never seen before. The ether seemed to hum about them, and the waves were dancing and singing. They looked about, half-frightened, yet the shivering pulse seemed to awaken them, too. The world was more vibrant and colorful than they’d ever seen it before, and it livened up their hearts.

  Wintha stared into the distance, a rapturous smile on her face, as Wilama stared at her. “What’s going on?” Wilama asked her.

  “Magic. We’re going to a world that has magic.” Wintha said.

  “Come again?” Wilama asked.

  Wintha turned to her. “There are different ways to travel to other worlds. Some go through a portal, which can take various forms. This mist is a portal, large and natural enough to take us all through to the other world. We’re going to settle there, like I said. We’re going to find a new home for ourselves.”

  “But that’s impossible. Magic’s impossible. There’s no such thing.” Wilama said.

  “Tell that to the merpeople.” Wintha grinned and pointed.

  Wilama turned her head and gaped as she spotted them, jumping out of the water, floating through the vapor, and then they splashed down again. Others saw them, too, and exclaimed over the event, so Wilama knew that she wasn’t hallucinating.

  But that didn’t make her feel any more comfortable as she glanced back at Wintha, who was enjoying the view immensely as if she’d expected this, which she probably had. Wintha had led them here in many ways. Perhaps she’d looked forward to going to this enchanted realm, wanting to get away from the misery of her past, but Wilama wasn’t sure if this was the best thing for all of them.

  Such sorcery might be a dream for a few, but Wilama had never wanted anything like this, or she knew there’d be consequences in a place like this for wielding such magic. Everything was going to change for them, now that they’d come across such enchantments, and Wilama didn’t know if that change would be good or not. She hoped that, whatever else might happen to them, they’d at least keep their heads and remain sensible.

  Then a sea serpent lifted its head a few feet away from them, turning to examine them. Wilama might’ve fainted then.

 
Chapter Six:

  The New Arrivals

  Among the Fay, there once lived a falcon, a fox, and a cat, otherwise known as Fato, Paracleus, and Rhona. Rhona had been the first to transform amongst her fellow pupils when they were taught how to use their morphing abilities.

  She was a gifted student, dedicated to her studies, and it was quite easy for her, once she had learned the principle of the matter, to apply it. Rhona had chosen to shapeshift into a cat for she had longed to get close to one.

  There were tigers, panthers, and jaguars in the forest where they lived, and she knew to avoid them. But the smallest felines most interested her. Some of them were domesticated, she knew, by humans on the mainland, and it seemed like an intriguing idea to her that a cat, such a wily and evasive creature, might be taught how to obey others.

  So for her first attempt, she tried to replicate the form and figure of a cat, shapeshifting down into that small, maneuverable, malleable shape, able to run, jump, and climb quickly with a long tail, sharp claws and fangs, and bright, witty eyes with whiskers.

  Rhona blinked a few times once she’d adjusted, ears flicking as she checked herself and examined her grey paws. “How do I look?” She admired her black fur.

  “A deduction for purple eyes instead of yellow.” The teacher said. “Next!”

  “Oh, great,” Rhona muttered, slinking off with her tail low to the ground.

  Paracleus was soon called forward, and after he was called again, he stopped flirting with another boy and bounded up to the stage. The teacher demonstrated what he’d missed, and ordered him to do the same.

  Paracleus frowned, puzzling over this shapeshifting, but then he came up with an idea of what he wanted to try. So he got into position, cleared his throat, and conjured as he made sure the other Fay boy was watching.

  And then he transformed into what appeared to be a fox, but before the others could applaud, he spread his nine tails out, showcasing his kitsune reveal. The other students marveled, as a kitsune was surely more complex than a simple fox or cat. Rhona glowered at him from the other side, still in feline form.