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	Chapter 4
	Chapter 4 ------------- The door to their quarters opened and Fane awoke. He looked up through tired eyes as Tyrius entered, who nodded to the waking boys in a friendly gesture. Dreams were a haven to Fane; they were a way of forgetting the situation he was in. In sleep, he returned home, to his Brother, to his Mother, to his friends and his house. He believed he was safe, that all was well and he would live out the rest of his life as a hunter and with a family, a wife … And then he woke up, and reality came back to him like the river through a smashed dam, flooding his memory with despair and the loss of hope was almost too much. Tyrius currently clutched Kern by the scruff of his shirt, hauling him into the room like a sack of coal to be tossed by the wall. Kern struggled to get up, but it was obvious that he was hurt. He seemed to have trouble breathing and there were bruises on his face, as well as an odd filmy liquid. ‘I thought you said that you meant us no harm.’ Sec said accusingly as he rose out of the bunk, rubbing his eyes. ‘I did,’ Tyrius said, ‘It was self defence.’ He walked to Kern’s location and removed a large chain from his robe. It only took him a moment to attach it to the wall, where iron fixings had already been installed. Fane rose to his feet and then he noticed her, following through the door behind Tyrius. A Furalian, he knew it instantly. He had never seen one in his life, but he had heard about them. In truth, he had always wanted to meet one. By the Gods she was beautiful … with pale skin and pale eyes, shocking red hair and perfectly symmetrical features. She was slightly alien looking, but that only served to make her more alluring. Tall, curvaceous, graceful, slim … the woman was like nothing he had ever seen. She wore men’s clothing mostly, a thick cloak and hard-wearing tunic and hose, but her womanly figure was still amply evident despite the unflattering clothing. It took fane more than a few moments to look away, even long after he realised he was staring. Tyrius stood and gestured to the Furalian. ‘Fane, Sec, this is Gwynia. Gwynia.’ Sec wasn’t as distracted by the beautiful female, and asked a question that Fane had not thought of until now; ‘How do you know our names? You spoke them yesterday and you never said how you knew them.’ ‘We were watching Fane for about a week before we made our move.’ He explained simply, ‘Magic again.’ He nodded with a tired look, dispelling Sec’s questions before they were raised. Tyrius gestured for Gwynia to approach the injured Kern and she did so without a word. She bent to hold the chains in her hand and closed her eyes. All watched her closely as the chains began to glow a fiery yellow, not with heat, but something else. Then The Song came. Kern of course, had heard it before, when the blonde haired Muirayn had used it, but the other two boys were puzzled and bewitched. To them it was as if the blue skies had cracked open, and the voice of the Gods themselves poured down from the heavens; salvation finally come, and with it the most wonderful sounds their ears were capable of hearing. The words came in alien tones of entrancing perfection and Fane was captivated. He knew then that he would never get this woman out of his mind. The chains stopped glowing, their colour had deepened into something blacker and stronger, and the lock by which it was fixed to Kern was melted entirely. ‘What did she do?’ Fane asked. Gwynia answered; her speaking voice almost as pleasant as her singing one. ‘I strengthened the metal of his bonds, and locked a warding spell into them. Nothing short of an enchanted blade could cut those chains now.’ As usual, Sec was amazed at the use of magic. It would take him quite a while to get used to it, Fane thought to himself. Gwynia moved aside as Tyrius approached Kern again. The large man squatted to inspect the young man’s wounds and frowned in deep consideration. ‘Now hold still.’ He commanded of Kern before reaching his hand out. All watched in wonder as Kern’s bruises and scrapes faded and healed right in front of their eyes. No sooner had Tyrius’ palm passed over the marked areas, than they were healed completely. The big Human pressed with his fingers at Kern’s chest, inspecting the damage carefully. Kern winced and wrinkled his nose in anger as his damaged chest was examined. ‘I think I broke a rib with that kick.’ Tyrius said gruffly, ‘Keep quite and try to shallow your breathing. This may take some time.’ Fane and Sec watched the Human work for a few minutes in silence. Tyrius’ stare turned intense and sweat beginning to drip down the side of his forehead in clear beads, amassing in pools over his heavy-set brow. Finally Fane turned back to Gwynia. ‘Is that what he did with my wound when I first arrived?’ Fane asked, actually interested, ‘It was a serious wound, and I awoke the following morning to find it entirely healed.’ Gwynia nodded, offering a simple ‘yes’ in reply, but nothing more. When at last Tyrius was finished, Kern looked visibly refreshed and his breathing seemed much less laboured. He made circles with his arms as much as his bonds would allow, apparently testing the spell to see how effective it had been. He looked suitably impressed by the improvement, though he tried to disguise it. ‘Now,’ Tyrius began, ‘Try to escape again and I can’t promise I’ll go so easy on you next time. Understood?’ Kern simply glared; a sour look on his grimy face. Tyrius turned to Fane and Sec, Gwynia standing by his side. ‘You two, I hope you have no objections to Kern sleeping in here with you. It makes it easier to keep an eye on you all at the same time.’ Sec snorted, ‘You mean makes it easier to keep us all in one cell.’ ‘I told you, you are free to roam the ship when ever you want. We are far enough out at sea to stop you successfully escaping, anyway, and your powers wont get you far, unless you know how to summon giant eagles?’ ‘So why is Kern kept here when we can roam freely?’ Fane quizzed, already knowing the answer. Tyrius folded his arms on his great barrel-chest. ‘I’m learning not to underestimate this one. It took us many months to catch him, and he’s as slippery as a devil’s eel. Only … smaller.’ Kern rolled his eyes behind the large Human, making faces at his back that only Fane and Sec could see. ‘The real reason is that he’s scared of me; scared that I’ll flog his hide from here to the third moon.’ Tyrius didn’t bother to turn around, ‘Yes, that must be it.’ He said, his arms still crossed. Now … onto more important matters…’ Tyrius said, mocking Kern once more with the dismissive remark. ‘I wish to show you a measure of goodwill on our part. You are captives now, yes, but you will be treated fairly, and I’m hoping that this gesture can help to aid you on your way to believing me when I say this.’ He clapped and the door opened, a sailor pushing a small form through the portal from the other side. It was Clyde! Fane couldn’t believe it. He had thought his dog left behind, or dead, or perhaps both! He rushed forwards and embraced his pup warmly, caressing the animal through the scruff of the neck and around the ears. The dog wagged his tail happily, his long tongue lapped at the cheek of his master to show his delight at seeing a familiar face. Clyde grunted, scarcely able to contain his jubilation, and Fane laughed in response, feeling the first real momentary joy since he had been taken from his home. Sec also came to greet the dog, as he had known him from his birth also. ‘Why…?’ Fane asked. Tyrius smiled slightly, ‘Because we do not wish unhappiness on the people we take. We want them to find peace on our island, and bringing your dog with us felt like the right thing to do … at least, to me. You have to remember that we are not evil people. We do what we believe we must do for the greater good, in order to protect the lives and well being of the rest of the world, even at the expense of a small group of individuals. A pure motive drives us, and because of that you will find us all to be kind people, at least, most of us.’ Fane stared up at the Human. He hated him for taking him from his home, but perhaps he wasn’t an evil person. Insane, maybe, deluded - quite probably, but perhaps not evil. He did not agree that his own kidnapping had been necessary, and he would hate the man forever for that act. But he respected Tyrius’ conviction and gentility. Plus, admit it or not, he was pleasantly shocked that one of his captives was a Furalian love goddess, and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her for her part in their capture. Tyrius seated himself on the round table in the centre of the room. ‘Now, I think it’s only fair that I fill you all in on our plans. We are, as a said, headed south as our final destination. But our voyage has been delayed by unforeseen circumstances…’ ‘Sir…’ Gwynia interrupted. Tyrius held up a hand, ‘Gwynia, it’s fine, they have a right to know. Perhaps they will learn a little about the way we work.’ Gwynia nodded, and Tyrius continued. ‘We felt the presence of a magic user nearby. Usually, when the user is advanced, they know how to cloak their power so that others can’t hear it unless they are very close or listening very intently. So this means that the person who used this magic doesn’t know what they are doing.’ The three Dreyhood stared at the giant, attempting to follow his mystic mumbo-jumbo. ‘Now,’ he continued, ‘this means that firstly she’s a danger to herself, and secondly, she’s a danger to those around her.’ Fane already knew who he was talking about. It was the girl he had seen in his vision the night before, he felt sure of it. It was the murderess. He was very careful not to look too interested in this tale. He did not want to give away any other potential skills or magic power he might have; a power that his enemy did not know about gave him a better chance of escaping. ‘How do you know she’s a danger to those around her?’ Kern asked. ‘She has already killed once, in vicious, angry cold blooded murder. And she’ll probably do so again unless she is stopped and taken away from those she might harm. In time, we hope to teach her how to better control her gifts, and even her rage, if needed. I tell you this firstly to show you how and why we do the things we do, and secondly, to warn you of possible danger in the next week or so.’ Fane raised an eyebrow, ‘Danger? In what way?’ ‘Well …’ Tyrius responded, ‘Firstly, danger from her. She could escape this ship’s captivity and attack even the other prisoners … being yourselves of course. On the other hand, it is very likely that others have heard her magic being used, and they too come looking for her.’ ‘Others?’ Fane asked, his hope sparked slightly. ‘Others who might want to use her powers for their own gain. Others, perhaps, who seek to kill her for the danger she could be rather than simply take her captive. You see, we – myself and my crew – we are the side of good in this tale. We not only do what we do in order to prevent death to ordinary people, but also to prevent death to those like yourselves, Fane.’ Kern muttered: ‘Death would be preferable to this captivity.’ Gwynia glared at the Dreyhood, ‘Judge your “captivity” when you see your prison. Southkeep Island is as far from a cage as heaven is from this planet. So before wailing like a lost kitten, think of how you lived before we found you, and then compare it to the life you have before you.’ Tyrius turned his full attention to Gwynia, ‘Gwynia,’ he said, ‘you are not helping by insulting the lad. Now remove yourself from this chamber and we’ll talk about this later.’ Gwynia’s icy cold gaze stared into space before the large Human’s face. Then without saying a word she turned and walked out. ‘Forgive her,’ The Human said, ‘She is short of patience and can be a little harsh at times.’ Kern stared after the tall Furalian as she closed the door behind her, his mouth wide-open with shock. ‘She can be harsh with me any time she wants to.’ He grinned. Ignoring his remark, Tyrius continued, ‘So, the main reason I came here this morning was to try to reassure you that you are not in enemy hands. We are not slavers - we are not killers. Yes, we take young captives, but we take them to a better place, and we protect them – and others – from themselves. In time you will understand what we as an order of mages are trying to do. Until then, I must take you by force.’ He stood to his feet. ‘I hope to see you atop deck sometime today.’ He bowed slightly to them, more of a nod than anything else, and then he left the room. --- Fane sat cross-legged on the grass, enjoying the feel of the warm wind on his face and the sound of the gentle rustle and sway of ancient trees around him. Birds, given parlay by such elderly foliage, sat singing and bathing in the sunlight as it slipped through the cotton white clouds. Nearby, Fane could hear the miniature song of a nest of chicks, excitedly yapping at the emergence of their Mother with ample food in the form of worms. He smiled as he heard the commotion, looking up from his book to enjoy the feel of life and nature around him. Distantly the stern-looking structure of Dun Tyrin could be seen; its mammoth blocks of interlocking stone a sharp contrast to the picturesque nature surrounding it. It rose up on the horizon like a giant rhino horn, juxtaposing the garish hard edges of man with the chaotically harmonic nature. It was a silent grey sentinel which, as always, comforted Fane with its presence. His naivety lent credence to the belief that nothing could touch Tylun, not when Dun Tyrin stood watch over them. It had been nearly a month since his first hunt, and his following attempts had been much more successful. He had even tried out the bow, with more luck than anyone had predicted. Life was better than ever in his hometown, and as he sat reading his book, he sighed with blissful contentment. He had no cares, nor worries; not a single one in all the world. Sec chose that moment to arrive, bounding up the hill to Fane’s left and skidding to a halt by his friend’s side. He slid over the dry grass with one leg outstretched, and came to rest sitting on the floor next to Fane. ‘’Ello, Fane. What you reading?’ He said with a lively exuberance on his boyish features. ‘’Ello Sec,’ Fane responded, placing his book to the side before slumping backwards to lay face-up on the comforting grass mattress. ‘It’s a story by some storyteller-poet type from a couple of villages south. It’s quite good; it’s an adventure book about The Age of Change and the heroes of that time. How did training go?’ Sec grinned, ‘It was great. The Captain had us practice fights against the odds and I went up against 3 others. Nearly won too, took down one of them with a neat backhand stroke to the chest, and the other two had trouble bringing me down. Took them a full 5 minutes to do it in the end!’ He bragged. Fane looked up at his friend, tilting his head and squinting away the bright sunshine. ‘I don’t see any evidence that you even lost.’ He said. Sec rolled up his tunic and revealed a pair of heavy yellow bruises lining his stomach and side. Fane grimaced, ‘That hurt?’ He asked. Sec shook his head, ‘Not nearly as much as Rillyan right now, he took a beating from Koren and 2 other lads.’ Fane’s grimace deepened, ‘Ouch!’ He exclaimed. Sec nodded, ‘Ouch is the word, and he’s black and blue right now. Shame it wasn’t me going up against that tyke; I’d have shown Koren a thing or two.’ Fane doubted it, but he did not say so. Koren was the stereotypical bully of the village, at least of the 16-17 year old age group. Already built like a full-grown man, the boy was mean spirited and enjoyed nothing more than to inflict pain. Sec was very skilled, but he was never vicious, not even when confronted with injustice, and for that reason Fane didn’t think that Sec would have won. ‘Oh, speak of the devil…’ Said Sec. Fane sat up, immediately on guard, expecting the bully Koren to be walking up the hill, but instead he saw Rillyan. Sec hadn’t exaggerated. Their friend was heavily bruised over the left side of his face, with a bust lip and a swollen black eye. ‘By the Gods, Rillyan, you look like something the cat dragged in, clawed to death, cooked on the spit, marinated with equal measures of blue and blackberries, ate, and then spat back up again! Has my Brother seen you yet?’ Fane asked, his surprise evident. Rillyan looked in a sour mood, ‘No he hasn’t,’ the older boy replied, ‘And I expect he’ll want to take a little revenge on my part if he does.’ Sec smiled, rising to his feet, ‘Then let’s beat him to it!’ He said, without a trace of jest. The other two boys stared at him. Rillyan was as tall as Fane, but one year his senior. He wore his light brown hair cropped around his shoulders and over his ears. Denser than most other boys his age, he was also wider and stronger than the others, Boseraphim included, who a further year older than he. ‘That wouldn’t be fair now would it?’ Rillyan said, arching his eyebrow in the way Fane might have. Sec looked around, ‘3 against one … seems like the odds you had against you in the training arena, Rill.’ ‘That doesn’t make it right.’ ‘Then I’ll do it myself. You two come and watch, and I’ll have him, one on one, in a fair fight.’ Sec’s bravery never failed to impress, but then, he wasn’t the brightest apple in the basket. Fane gave his best friend a look which said ‘get out of here you madman’. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Fane, I can do it, I know I can!’ Fane sighed, looking up at Rillyan, who shrugged and stuck out his bottom lip as if the expression rid him of any responsibility. Seeing no objections being raised over there, Fane decided to try to talk his friend out of it in the only way he knew how: by mocking him. ‘Okay, but we’d better bring the wheelbarrow.’ Sec frowned, ‘The wheelbarrow? What for?’ ‘So we can cart your behind home when he’s done with you. Probably in pieces. But tell us now, so there’s heartache and woe later: who gets to keep your boots?’ Sec sneered and wobbled his head as if to say ‘very funny’, and promptly walked off in the direction he expected to find Koren. Fane stood and began jogging to keep up with his fast-paced friend who was now storming off, ‘And also, if we bring you back in pieces, should we bother cremating you, or should we just scatter your limbs on the mountainside? There’d be more for the vultures to chew on that way…’ ‘Yeah yeah…’ Sec said sarcastically, ‘You’ll be laughing no more when you see what I do to Koren for laying into my friend.’ Though Rillyan didn’t seem too bothered, he sauntered along behind the other two with a vaguely amused look on his face. He was going to enjoy this, either way. It took the three boys little over a quarter hour before they came to their intended destination. Sec was still walking out in front bravely, with Fane struggling to keep up in order to talk his friend out of the stupidity, and as usual Rillyan plodded along at the rear, not paying much heed to the distance now between himself and the two in front. They had come to a ring of houses near to Dun Tyrin that was known as ‘Smithy’s Street’. It was the local haunt of Koren and his adolescent gang, who usually sat around on the grass hill in the centre of the street and heckled merchants as they passed by. To the older folk of the village, Koren was little more than a pest, but to those his own age-group he was feared. Except by Sec, obviously, who seemed to fear nothing and no-one. As it happened Koren was there, as usual, with three other boys, who all currently sat around on broken barrels by the wayside, puffed up and acting tough as usual. Fane saw the reason why as they approached; Nealla, Sec’s sister, was standing on the other side of the road with her best friend, pretending that they weren’t paying attention to the boys in that trademark female way, but all the while loving the attention. Fane, however, suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had a thing for Sec’s sister, and although he had never said so, he was smitten by her pale skin and long dark hair. She was a Dreyhood Rose, as they said, plainly pretty in a captivating kind of way. Sec didn’t see his sister as all his focus remained on Koren as he approached. Koren stood as he saw the three boys coming, a deep frown on his gormless large-jawed face. ‘Oi! Koren, you streak of monkey’s urine!’ Sec said loudly. All attention turned on him, and the group of large boys approached with a swagger, Koren at their lead. ‘What did you call me, little man?’ Koren demanded, his lackeys filling out around him to stand like a wall of intimidation in front of Sec. Fane stepped forward to offer some back up. He had a handle on his fear, but he was apprehensive of an all-out war between the two groups. ‘Monkey’s urine.’ Sec repeated, ‘Do you know anything about fair play, you honourless half-Eskan? Do you? Because as far as I’ve always been taught, you pull your punches on a training duel, especially against one who’s heavily outnumbered.’ He gestured at Rillyan, whose bruises were worsening by the second. Koren stepped forwards another yard, squaring up to Sec and looking down at him with disdain. His expression told Fane that he hadn’t even listened to a word out of Sec’s mouth. Sec continued, ‘Now, if you want to play rough, you do it one on one in a fair fight. Me versus you, Koren, here and now.’ The bigger boy nodded, ‘Alright.’ He said, ‘But when I kill you, your friends take you home to your Mummy, crying wreck and all, and they explain how you started it, and I ended it.’ Sec sneered, ‘Let’s see who makes who cry, you dumb ape!’ Fane and Rillyan backed off, as did Koren’s friends, and all watched as the two combatants readied themselves to fight fisticuffs. Even Nealla approached now, taking no measures to disguise the interest in the masculine test of superiority. Fane felt oddly ashamed when he was relieved at his safe vantage point as a spectator. He should be as willing as Sec to stick up for his friend - perhaps more than willing - but he was not. More than anything now, he felt relieved that he wasn’t going to get hurt in this macho test of fighting skills and this made him feel slightly ill with guilt. To think that Sec was afraid was unthinkable. His eyes sparkled with devilish determination, and a wide smile split across his rounded, square-jawed face as he stared directly into the eyes of his opponent. If Fane didn’t know better, he would have said that Koren looked more nervous. Although calm, he seemed unsure how Sec could have so much confidence. Koren wasn’t used to people standing up to him; the only person who ever really had was Sec, and occasionally Fane and Rillyan when they were backed into a corner, but the two groups had rarely clashed in any form of fist fight. The two apprentice soldiers began to circle one another, their concentration unflinching, as to lose this battle was to lose more than just your teeth; it was to lose your reputation. Koren confidently lunged at Sec with a swinging blow aimed at the shorter boy’s head, but Sec ducked under the assault as if it was nothing more than a ball of screwed-up parchment aimed loosely at his face. Sec laughed and danced backwards, weaving his feet about in cocky strides back and forth to confuse his opponent. Koren snarled and lunged again, a series of swift and powerful looking swipes; an uppercut, a backhand, followed by a couple of jabs. But all missed, Sec nimbly skipping around each blow as if in a rehearsed dance. As he leaned past the final jab, he countered with an enthusiastic punch, plunging his small fist into the pit of Koren’s chest. Koren stepped back, huffing in confusion and anger as he glared at the cocky little boy. Sec was fast, and he was confident. These two factors alone gave him an edge. But Fane wasn’t sure how long his luck would hold. Koren charged, tactics forgotten. He threw punches like a hail of ice, raining down on Sec from all directions much quicker than expected. Sec took one blow to the side of the face, but kept his feet firmly as he blocked the rest of the attacks, retreating slightly while knocking away careless punches with raised arms. Koren thought he had Sec beaten, and made the mistake of putting all his strength into an arching pummel, catapulted over his head and straight out at Sec’s nose. But Sec - even on the retreat - had anticipated this. He caught the fist mid-punch with both of his hands and pulled the motion towards him, over his head, aiding the bigger boy into a stumble. With a skilful flick of his wrist and a downward slice of his leg into Koren’s shin, Sec brought the big lad tumbling head-over-feet to land heavily on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. ‘Now Sec!’ Rillyan cheered, urging Sec on. ‘Get him while he’s down!’ Fane laughed, already knowing that Sec was too honourable to do that. At least, he was honourable in battle, anyway. Koren rose, his face red with shame and anger, and Sec simply waited for his opponent to get to his feet before he launched his own attack. He managed to land at least three or four blows to the bigger boy’s face before he just stopped. Sec stumbled backwards, holding the back of his head. Silence rang around the circle of boys, confusion breaking the cheers. Koren had not even thrown a punch, and here Sec was nearly fainting on his feet. ‘A stone! He threw a stone!’ Nealla shouted to her brother, pointing at one of Koren’s friends. But Sec did not hear; he dropped to his knees. Koren stepped up, ready to strike the winning blow. There were shouts of outrage from some people watching. Fane didn’t think about what he was doing. If he had stopped to think, he probably would never have done it. He had stepped forwards into the circle, charging Koren down. It was only when he was inches away from him that he had second thoughts, but by then it was too late. With an audible crash of their two bodies colliding, Fane dived onto the back of Koren. If he had not, there was a chance that Sec could have been seriously injured. The stone might have already been enough, and a further beating could have knocked more than the sense into him. With grim determination Fane locked his arm around Koren’s throat, using his spare hand to land solid punches on the boy’s cheek and ear. It was scant seconds before he was dragged off of him, Koren’s lackeys joining in; all bets on fairness now off. Adrenalin and rage got the better of Fane, and all motion slowed and blurred, a haze of kicks and punches and blood, all events lost in the heat of the moment. Afterwards the exact event would be hazy at best, it was always the same when Fane got into a fight. He could never remember the event afterwards, nor could he really think on his feet as the event took place. The rage usually dispelled any sensibility or tactical logic. It was like falling head-over-heals down a steep slope, and watching a flash of images roll before your eyes, unable to affect them or stop your descent. He was aware of Rillyan running to his aid, pushing off some of the boys, hitting another … somebody shouted somewhere behind him. His head swam with the crunching blows to his head and arms as he lay there on the ground, shielding himself from the attacks to his face. He felt dizzy as he waited patiently for the attacks to stop, but they felt as if they might go on forever. --- Fane and Sec stepped into the light, looking around the deck at the faces of the sailors who for the most part ignored them. They were evidently impressed by the sleek looking ship, Fane especially (who had always had an avid interest in seafaring). He looked directly up at the rippling white sails towering over him, tied up and pulled tight, caught in a web of thick ropes. The sea air brushed past him, carrying with it the salty scent of freedom; that inescapable feeling of omni-directional choice; the ability to pick a point on the compass and simply go. But it was a fleeting feeling, a fantasy dispelled as the reality of his situation returned to him: he was a captive against his will. Still, it felt good to see the sunshine and feel the wind on his face again. Tyrius approached them, coming out of a crowd of sailors on the foredeck. He smiled at the two boys, not in a friendly way, but in a guarded - yet welcoming kind of way. His expression was one of a person who meant well, but was aware of the pain that he had caused. ‘Good afternoon boys, it’s good to see you up and about.’ The boys nodded stiffly. ‘She’s a fine ship isn’t she?’ Tyrius asked, looking around the ship admiringly. Fane nodded, ‘She’s nice … for a prison. What’s her name?’ ‘She goes by the name of Grey Eagle. Not the strongest or smoothest runner in the fleet, but she’s the fastest.’ ‘Fleet?’ Sec asked. ‘Yes. Southkeep has its own fleet. We are all but our own nation in many respects. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it when we finally get there.’ ‘You’ll forgive my reluctance to believe that. You snatched us away from a perfect home, and for reasons we do not believe in.’ Fane nodded, affirming his agreement with what Sec had said. Tyrius looked at them for a moment and Fane saw a flicker of something … he wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Perhaps he was hiding something? He couldn’t be sure. He turned at last and beckoned for them to follow on a tour of The Eagle, pointing out various important officers and crewmen, for what end Fane could not guess. He brought them also to the tarpaulin – the canvas over the lifeboat – and explained that it was used to collect water from rain squalls, for drinking. ‘Your escape would be impossible.’ He said at last, ‘The ship’s boat is chained in the same manner as your friend Kern is right now, and we are too far from land for you to swim, regardless of how healthy you are.’ Fane nodded, saying nothing. They approached the Dreyhood blonde that they had seen on their first day here and Tyrius introduced them, explaining that his name was Muirayn. The man gave them an apologetic half-smile that Fane could not read exactly. Muirayn seemed friendly enough, and his demeanour was open and honest, at least by appearance. The two boys spent some time by the railings of the starboard side after that, scanning their cage for any hint of possible escape route and sizing up the crew to see which of them were most alert, and which of them were most experienced. They gained little from their surveillance, but they enjoyed the fresh air and the setting of the sun in the west, which gave them back some sense of normality. They went uninterrupted for the most part, Tyrius leaving them to their own devices while he went about his mysterious business. Muirayn usually stood nearby, but made no effort to try to talk to the boys and instead actually looked uncomfortable to a certain degree. The hours slipped by and they entered little conversation, staring out across the pink-tinted waves as the Grey Eagle sailed smoothly away from the setting of the sun. It stirred a wordless thought in Fane’s heart as he looked out across the boundless oceans in all directions, almost mesmerised by the hypnotic ripple of the watery façade. The depth and immeasurable extents of his world became apparent for the first time; from the world atop that he could not see, to the world below that he could not reach. It provoked thoughts and emotions that Fane had never stopped to consider before. He felt suddenly like an injured gull floating alone on an endless black river, surrounded by impenetrable darkness. The unknown frightened Fane. And the world was unknown to him. Fane became faintly aware of a shouting over their heads, from the crows nest, it seemed. He could not make out the words being yelled down to them, but Sec seemed to understand. ‘A ship approaches!’ Sec whispered sharply, excitedly, ‘The lookout says that she makes no effort to hide her heading; straight for us!’ Fane blinked, looking at Sec out the corner of his eye, ‘Which is … good news, right?’ Sec nodded, ‘It could! It means that we could be saved, if we are lucky. Perhaps home has come looking for us…’ He ventured. They rushed to the starboard side of the ship and squinted into the darkening horizon. Distantly a large ship could be seen; a mere dot on the edge of the world at the moment. They sat and waited with bated breaths, listening carefully for the announcement from the lookout. Tyrius seemed to be arguing with the Captain at the fore of the ship. He was ranting about drawing too much attention, but the Captain was insistent on something or other. They could only pick out parts of the row, but they understood that the two men in charge were discussing the ship which was fast approaching. ‘Fine.’ Tyrius barked at the Captain, storming off towards the two boys, who stared confusedly at him. ‘You boys take hold of something; we’re in for a bumpy ride.’ He commanded. ‘Corp, what is it?’ Muirayn said, looking very concerned. Tyrius shook his head, ‘It might be nothing, Muir, but the Captain wants me to help us make haste. The ship over there is approaching fast, with the wind at her back, and we are stuck facing east. We can’t sail any further north and use the strong winds, or we’ll be on the shores of the Dreyhood shored before nightfall, and that area doesn’t take kindly to visitors with Human ship designs.’ ‘You want me to control the wind.’ Muirayn stated, his face grave in the realisation of the task before him. ‘I know you’ve never done something so big before, but I cannot do this.’ Sec interrupted behind them, ‘Why can’t you do it?’ he said boldly, ‘You can do everything else, or so it would seem.’ ‘I cannot control the elements.’ Tyrius explained patiently, glancing back at the two boys. ‘That is why Muirayn in on this ship, because he has that power. Myself, I only have the powers of magic drawn from one’s own body and used to influence things that I am in direct contact with.’ Muirayn sighed, ‘He says ‘only’ as if it were easy to learn three schools of magic. Anyway, my magic commands the elements around me, the forces of nature, and instructs them to perform various tasks.’ Fane frowned, ‘But Tyrius did the same thing, with his pillar of fire…’ ‘Not exactly, my friend. The power he used came from within, he used his own energy for that magic, and the elements he produced were of his own making.’ Tyrius nodded, confirming Muirayn’s take on basic science of magic The boys listened intently, obviously impressed at the range of skills available to the three mages aboard The Grey Eagle. ‘Anyway, there is no time for this. Perhaps later,’ He said to Sec and Fane, bowing in apology as he led Muirayn away to the other side of the deck. The two men stood there for some time, talking quietly. Tyrius seemed to be giving Muirayn some form of encouragement, of reassurance. He spent a lot of time nodding and patting the younger man on the shoulder. It struck Fane how much those two could have been Father and Son, were their ancestry even nearly alike. Still, it seemed that Tyrius was Muirayn’s mentor at the least and perhaps his good friend too. The call came suddenly from the crows nest, and this time Fane heard it loud and clear. ‘Pirates ahoy Sir! They fly the black flag!’
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