Story: more prologue

Nov 12, 2007 - 10:20 AM PST

...Koi fiddled with his staff as he strolled his way down the dusty road. His mood was surprisingly light considering his recent loss. He stopped and stared somewhat blankly at the lounging cat, ornately carved into the crook of his walking stick. Regret and shame flooded into his mind in an instant, but dissipated just as quickly. He could not have known the ultimate outcome of his decisions, nor the continuous ripple of subsequent consequences. Reflecting objectively, he supposed that he still had not yet seen the full fruition of his misconduct. True, he should have at least suspected that his rival would put him to a test that might alienate him from his beloved teacher and friend, and ultimately end in disaster. But he was young and ambitious, and almost pugnacious to a fault. Had he been more suspicious, as he should have been, he might have avoided the inevitably ruinous result. Koi willed an image of this boy’s face to his memory. This supposed friend had ultimately shown his true colors in that foolish and ultimately disastrous contest -- colors that painted a very dark picture indeed. He would remember that face for the rest of his life.
Thus, in his youthful innocence – or perhaps "ignorance" would be a better description – Koi took the challenge, and won, drawing him into the series of unfortunate events which ultimately led him here. He picked up his step once again and let his mind wander, randomly recalling the kindness of his former tutor and the malice of his former friend. At least he had thought he was a friend.
A low roll of thunder drew him temporarily out of his reveries, and he looked up. The sky had gone dark since this morning. It was probably going to rain. He snorted softly to himself..."I suppose it serves me right" he thought as he looked up and down the road, seeing nothing in the dim and continuously failing light but a wide stripe of dust stretching onward and upward until it touched the skyline. Despite his apparent lackadaisical outlook, Koi was very deeply sad that he had lost his mentor, his home, and really all he had ever known. But what saddened him the most was that his training had only just begun, and his hunger for knowledge was now being deprived. He considered himself very highly intelligent, and he felt a strange hollowness at having no means to learn and grow. Instead he was left with no aim, no goal, and no idea what he was going to do with himself. Not even for the rest of the week, let alone the rest of his life.
He jumped, as something very cold touched the back of his neck. Laughing at his own jitters, he turned up his collar and looked up again...just in time to see the clouds open and dump their burden of water to the earth. He was more frantic now as the sky had grown to near pitch black: he had no desire to spend the night sodden and miserable. As he looked for somewhere to hide from the elements, his eyes just caught a strange structure of some kind, backlit by a flash of lightening. Without thought or hesitation, he leaned over and barreled toward it. He would dry his clothes when he was safe under cover...
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…A constant scraping sound followed Magnus as he plodded numbly along the packed clay of the road. Here and there, ancient paving stones peeked through the earth along the edges, but he did not see them. Nor did he hear the sound of his bow dragging in the dust, or feel the tiny wet drops of drizzle as they fell silently on his shoulders. He was bleeding slightly from a jagged gash on his sword arm, but he did not notice. Magnus felt nothing…only emptiness. He was nothing but a hollow shell; a rolling stone without direction or purpose.
Slowly, he drew himself out of this stifling haze to realize that he had stopped walking, and was simply staring at the earth between his feet. A heavy tear wove its way down his cheek, carving a path in the dust and grime that stained it, and fell to the ground. It might have left a small spot in the dust, but the soil was starved for water and the tear was swallowed up, vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared. Magnus fell to his knees, consumed by grief, and began to do what he had not been able to bring himself to do for three days past: Magnus Wept. He wept for the loss of his father and mother, for his brother and cousins and, just this morning, his grandfather. Gone – They were all gone. Scenes from the fray flashed into his mind, and Magnus flinched at every memory: over and over he replayed their deaths, and gasped for air as he sobbed. The burden of living at the cost of their lives was too much to bear. Grief changed to fury and, flailing wildly, Magnus began to pound the earth with his white-knuckled fists, using the last of his strength as he wailed until he had no more tears to cry.
Exhausted and breathing heavily, Magnus blinked and looked around. It seemed that mother earth wept with him, for it had begun to rain violently. Staring unseeingly through the torrent for a few moments, he could almost see his future molding itself before his eyes: He knew what he had to do. He stood, and by the time his knees had locked and his head came up, his resolve had hardened into unshakable destiny…he would repay the debt of blood owed to his family a hundred-fold. He would kill the vile beasts who stole his happiness from him; he would decimate them and everyone related to them with no mercy and no hesitation!
With an air of finality, Magnus cased his bow. It was raining very hard, now, and he would need a place to stay dry. A quick scan rewarded him with a solution. In spite of the deep dark, he could plainly see the silhouette of a tower in the near distance, and he began to make his way to it…
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…Xavier whistled a light, bouncy tune as he strolled merrily down the dusty road. He didn’t know the words – he had only heard it sung by extraordinarily drunken sailors aboard ship – but it was stuck in his head all the same. Besides, he liked it and it brightened his mood.
He sighed. He did miss his ship terribly. The most fearsome foe of the White Sea, there had been no law but his own, and any merchant who dared to cross his path without paying the tolls he demanded learned a very thorough lesson on obedience. No one knew his name, but his ship was unmistakable… Three masts rippling with blood red canvass, and the Neptune-carved figurehead footed with an iron-toothed ramming spike. That infamous anonymity had been a warming blanket to him, but it had also been the seed of his downfall -- When no one knew who captained the ship, it could be captained by anyone.
The King’s own emissary sailed through the bay, bravely crossing directly athwart his bow. Knowing the armada His Majesty had at his fingertips to command a hunt against him, Xavier had ordered the crew to let the ship pass – he had no desire to insult an enemy he could not conquer. But the old salts on deck were greedy and short sighted. They ignored his orders and consigned that gold-laden vessel to the deep, weighing down his own ship ‘til her gunnels near touched the waves. And with a full bellied ship, the crew grew backbones they’d never before had and tossed him to the sharks and jellies.
Xavier allowed himself a moment of resentment over his mates’ betrayal, but only a moment. After all, if he brooded over ever circumstance in which he was dealt a farmer’s hand or made to be a scapegoat, he would boil his brains into stew-meat! He chuckled, but at the thought of stew his stomach rumbled loudly; it had been two days since he had last eaten.
There was another rumble, but this one did not come from him. It came again, this time peaking with a loud crack. Xavier sighed and nodded, as if agreeing to something. He had known it was going to rain; not only was scent of earth and water rich in the air, but he had awakened to a scarlet dawn. No, not merely rain – A storm was coming.
As if heaven was waiting for him to think it, she opened her floodgates and let her burden fall to the land far below. Xavier threw up his hood against the torrent, but it was an exercise in futility. In only moments the rain had bled through the heavy wool and begun running down his face. Defeated, he let his hands fall to his sides and began looking for something to shelter him.
Backlit by the lightening, he saw the shape of what had to be a tower … but it was enormous! Of all the shores he had put into port or made berth from, he had never seen its equal before. In any case, it was the closest cover to him and he was getting wetter by the moment. As he turned toward it he began to hope that it was large enough to have a shop or two; particularly a tavern. But the way his luck had been running lately, he wouldn’t even be able to get inside…