Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“Bah,” Mistake said dismissively. “You could never disappoint me. Wait until you see Angragar. You cannot imagine how much gold is there.”

“How can we just take it?” questioned MistyTrail. “Doesn’t it belong to someone?”

“It belongs to the Astor,” nodded Mistake, “but Rejji lets me do whatever I want. We are very good friends. You will like him.”

MistyTrail ate pensively as they waited for the mage to return. She had just finished her stew when Temiker strode into the room.

“The new boat has already been finished,” he grinned. “They had expected me to come calling days ago. What fortuitous timing. You can leave whatever day you want to.”

“I see no reason to delay,” shrugged MistyTrail. “I worry about relations with the Omungans. I would just as soon be on our way than stay in Alamar.”

“It is already midday,” frowned Temiker. “Why not start fresh in the morning?”

“You heard MistyTrail,” replied Mistake. “She wants to leave today, and we shall. Where do we go?”

Temiker shook his head and stared at the two young women. “Alright,” he sighed. “We must go to the shipyard. One of their men will sail the boat down to the village. One of you will go with him. The other one of you and myself will borrow two horses from them and ride to the village. That way the sailor will have a horse to ride back to Alamar with me.”

“I guess I better grab my things,” Mistake announced with an air of excitement. “I will meet you outside the school.”

“Out back,” Temiker called to Mistake as she raced out of the room. “It will be closer to the shipyard.”

MistyTrail rose and picked up her pack. She looked briefly at Temiker before hugging him.

“Thank you for you help,” she smiled.

“Are you going to be alright?” Temiker asked in a fatherly fashion. “Mistake can be headstrong at times.”

“I will be fine,” MistyTrail smiled weakly. “Mistake is no more headstrong than I am. If she thinks she can boss me around, she has yet to learn who she is dealing with.”

“That’s the spirit,” grinned Temiker as he led MistyTrail out the back door of the schoolhouse.

Mistake exited the building a moment later and the three of them walked to the small shipyard. Temiker entered the small shack alone and emerged a moment later with a large heavyset man. The man shouted and waved a worker to come to him.

“This is Fuster,” announced the heavyset man. “He will take the boat to the village for you. One of the women will have to go with him. I only have two horses to lend to you.”

“That will be Mistake,” nodded Temiker. “MistyTrail and I will ride the horses.”

“You might as well start now then,” the man said. “Fuster will waste no time getting to the village. Bring him back quickly. He has more work to do today.”

Temiker nodded and led MistyTrail towards the two horses tied to a post near the shack. Fuster nodded silently to Mistake and turned towards the docks. Mistake hurried along behind him. Fuster pointed to a new boat and told Mistake to get in. She jumped into the boat and Fuster frowned.

“Be careful with it,” admonished Fuster. “I intend to deliver a new boat, not one with nicks in it.”

“Sorry,” Mistake replied sheepishly as she sat on the small seat in the bow.

Fuster nodded as a father would when a child had done something foolish. He stepped into the boat and unhitched the mooring lines. With a mighty shove, he pushed the boat away from the dock and immediately began to hoist the sail.

“Good winds to the northeast today,” he said as he sat down in the stern and grabbed the tiller. “Getting out of the harbor will be quick and easy.”

“Northeast is where Fakara is, isn’t it?” asked Mistake as she clung tightly to the rails of the boat.

Fuster looked at her and frowned for a moment. “Aye, it is northeast,” he finally answered, “but a good long ways from here. Only a fool would take a craft like this that far. The sea can get downright nasty out there. You don’t know much about sailing do you?”

“Oh, I know a lot,” nodded Mistake. “My father was a fisherman in Fakara. He had a boat much like this one. It was not new of course.”

“Then why are ya gripping the rails?” asked Fuster humorously. “Relax lass. I will get you to the village with no harm done.”

Mistake gazed up at the sails as Fuster guided the boat out of the harbor. She studied the lines and how Fuster had tied them off.

“What happens when the wind is blowing the wrong direction?” asked Mistake. “How can you get to where you want to go?”

“You always have to have wind in your sails,” Fuster smiled when Mistake showed an interest in his craft. “It doesn’t always have to be behind you, though. Watch the sails as I turn to parallel the coast.”

Mistake watched as Fuster trimmed the sails and began paralleling the coastline.

“There are a wide range of courses one can set for any wind,” instructed Fuster. “The worst is trying to sail into the wind. You just can’t do it directly. What you must do in that case is tack at sharp angles to your destination. In effect, you zigzag closer to your destination without heading directly into the wind. You will see me do this as we approach the village.”

“And what if there is not wind at all,” inquired Mistake.

“Ah,” sighed Fuster. “A sail is of no use without wind. That is why there are oars onboard,” he added as he pointed to two new shiny oars strapped to the side of the boat. “Rowing is good exercise, but a sail is what make travel possible. It would take me all day to row to this village.”

Mistake nodded absently and gazed at the passing coast. She watched as the city of Alamar passed by and faded towards the horizon. As Fuster began to change directions, she turned and gazed forward. A small fishing village approached and she saw two riders on the beach heading towards it.

“They are going to beat us there,” quipped Mistake.

“Not by a long shot,” chuckled Fuster as the boat suddenly lurched and changed directions.

Mistake watched as Fuster’s sinewy arm fought with the tiller. The sailor had a grin on his face as he devoted all of his attention to coaxing as much speed out of the wind as he could. When the boat slid onto the small beach, Temiker and MistyTrail were just entering the village.

“We won,” grinned Fuster as he hopped out of the boat. “Nothing beats a boat for getting around.”

Temiker dismounted and walked towards a local fisherman that was working on his boat. Fuster went and held the reins for the horses while the magician spoke to the fisherman. Mistake and MistyTrail gathered around the mage to hear what he would say.

“You are not at sea today, Gerock,” Temiker said.

The fisherman turned to look at Temiker and his face paled. “You are dead,” Gerock said as his eyes opened wide with fear.

“Hardly,” chuckled Temiker. “I made a promise to you a long time ago. I have come to keep my word.”

“But I saw you die,” protested the fisherman. “I came back without you.”

Temiker stepped closer and placed his hand on the man’s temple. Gerock trembled in fear as the mage cast a spell. Within seconds it was over, and Temiker stepped back a pace. Gerock looked confused as he gazed at Temiker and then glanced up the beach at the new boat.

“That is truly mine?” Gerock suddenly smiled. “How did you do that?”

“It is magic,” shrugged Temiker as he smiled at the fisherman. “I did tell you that I was a mage.”

“You did at that,” laughed Gerock. “I truly believed that you were dead. What of the men chasing you?”

“They are all dead,” Temiker reported. “They were a bunch of hired assassins trying to use me in some diabolical political plot. They failed.”