The Silent Isle

by Nicholas Anderson

  The man held a broken rod in his hand. He started when he saw the two men and gave a little cry. He seemed to be trying to push himself backwards or into a sitting position but he hardly moved. He extended his arm though, pointing the jagged stump of the rod towards them. As the initial shock of the burn mark receded, the man's eyes caught Dane's attention. They were a pleasant blue color but they were wild, unfocused. Dane had seen men in combat go into a state of shock where their eyes refused to latch on to anything. The thousand-yard stare. It was almost like being blind. This man's eyes were like that.

  "Who's there?" the man called.

  Dane took a step forward.

  "Stay back," the man said. The stick wobbled in his hand.

  "It's alright, we're friends," Dane said. "You've made it back to port."

  The man's eyes fell on him and the veil seemed to lift from them. He dropped his stick and let his arm fall to the deck. "You're home," Dane said.

  The man closed his eyes and squeezed them still more tightly shut. A "shhh-shhhing" noise slipped from his lips and, although no tears ran on his cheeks, Dane knew he was crying.

  Dane knelt beside him and worked his arm beneath the man's shoulders to help him sit up a little. His eyes opened to slits. Leech opened his canteen and held it to the man's lips. Dane listened to the glugging noise and watched the man's Adam’s apple drive up and down his thin neck. Most of the water ran down his chin and then he coughed most of the rest of it back up.

  "You came from the colony; from Haven?" Dane asked.

  The man did not answer. His eyes were clouding over again and it seemed his strength was failing; as though his spirit's temple was caving in on itself, threatening to bury him inside. Dane feared they had over-excited him by coming aboard, that he'd ran through the hours he had left to live in a matter of seconds.

  "We should get him inside," Leech said.

  The man opened his mouth. "It's alright. You're alright," Dane said. "Everything's going to be OK. Just take it easy."

  “I have to tell you," the man began.

  "Shhh," Dane said.

  "They chose me. They chose to let me go."

  "What?" Dane asked. He leaned close to the man's mouth.

  "They sent me."

  "Who sent you?"

  The man's eyes suddenly went very wide and he seemed to be looking past Dane, as though something terrifying were standing over Dane's shoulder. Dane looked back. There was nothing there. The man's mouth worked and his Adam's apple hammered up and down. He pushed Dane away and moved as though he were trying to sit up. Dane crouched back, giving the man space. Suddenly, the man went limp, as though his final strength had gone out from him like a breath. He flopped down on his back and his head struck the deck planks with such a noise that Dane started. Dane looked at the old figure for a long moment before turning to Leech. Leech moved past Dane to crouch by the man. He put two fingers to the man's throat and held them there for several seconds. He frowned. He moved his fingers to the man's wrist and waited a few more seconds, then shook his head. He leaned forward, placing his cheek just above the man’s lips. Then he turned to Dane and nodded.

  ***

  "What do you think?" Leech asked.

  “I don't know,” Dane said. “I've never seen it before."

  The crowd of gawkers had pushed its way up towards Arvis Hallander’s fortress-house, which overlooked the harbor, bearing the news of the strange arrival. Dane, who felt no need to be his father’s tale-bearer, had stayed on the beach. Leech, who had insisted they cover the body and stand guard over it, sat beside him in the sand. They were discussing the mark stained on the sail and branded on the man.

  "It's not the symbol of one of the other houses?" Leech asked.

  "Not one I'm familiar with."

  "But you're familiar with all of them."

  "Like I said, I don't know." Dane looked at the image. He traced it in the sand. It looked like this:

  “Like a backwards seven,” Dane said.

  “An unholy seven,” Leech said.

  "Could it be some kind of weapon or tool? A scythe or a sickle?"

  Leech gave him a doubtful glance. "What, you think it’s some kind of laborers’ union?"

  "I'm just throwing out ideas," Dane said. "What about a broken sword?"

  "Could be,” Leech said. “If somebody wanted to send the message our garrison on Haven was destroyed."

  Dane shrugged. "Although sending back a lone survivor would seem to say as much in itself.”

  Dane frowned. Before sitting down with Leech to analyze the symbol he had tried to keep his mind from wandering towards the possibility a hostile force had taken Haven, branded a lone survivor, and sent him back as a boast. It had not escaped his notice that, when Leech and he started to talk about the symbol, this was the first path they went down. He tried to steer the conversation in another direction, if only to postpone the inevitable. "What if it's not the mark of another house? What if it’s something the people on Haven made up to symbolize outcasts, people who got kicked out of the community for one reason or another?"

  "It's possible, but why would they waste a whole ship to send back a single outcast? They could have just brought him back with the next shipment of ore.”

  "Maybe he stole the ship. Maybe that's why the first thing he said was, ‘They let me go. They sent me.’”

  "It was the only thing he said," Leech said.

  Dane was silent for a moment. "Or maybe he was sick, and they wanted to get him off the island. Maybe the symbol was supposed to signal disease or uncleanness."

  "There are other recognized symbols for those things."

  “Or maybe it's the other way around. Maybe everyone on the colony is sick and they sent him back to get help. Maybe he was sicker than they realized."

  "But the symbol?" Leech asked.

  "Maybe it's something the priests divined would stave off sickness or death."

  "It didn't do him much good," Leech said.

  Dane was silent for a while. "Could it be a bird?"

  Leech shrugged.

  “House Felcrist's symbol is a bird, right?" Dane pressed.

  Leech nodded. "A falcon, yeah. But it isn't this simple. It has a triangular tail and upswept wings."

  "But it could also be an ‘F’," Dane said.

  “More of a lower case ‘F’; unlikely a house would use anything but a capital letter in their insignia. It suggests dominance."

  "But is it possible Felcrist created a new symbol, a mix between a falcon and the letter ‘F’?"

  Leech shrugged, "It's possible, but if they were going to go through the trouble of branding our man and sending him back, why would they use a symbol we're not familiar with?"

  "Good point," said Dane. "Could it be that, though, a new symbol? Something two or three houses created to be the insignia for a new alliance?"

  Leech shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. But as far as House Felcrist is concerned, do you really think they’d do something like this after what they did to your family at Loshōn? After what you did to them at Loshōn?”

  Dane did not say anything. He never said anything about Loshōn.

  Dane realized Leech was looking over his shoulder. He turned to see Bailus Conley, his father’s weapons master, walking towards them. Bailus halted a short ways off and gave a slight nod. “Master Dane, your father wishes to speak with you.”

  Dane rose. "I guess he wants to know what we’ve divined by our secret arts.”

  Leech grunted. "That'll be a short conversation."

  "Yeah, well, when it comes to dealing with my father, that's the way I prefer it."

  “Better not to mention your thoughts about the other houses,” Leech said. “It’ll only rile him up. And besides, I don’t think we’re up against one of your father’s rivals. Something tells me it’s something older. Something worse."

  “Worse?”

  “Up till now, we’ve only been discussing what’s possible and rational.”


  “I thought you prided yourself on being rational,” Dane said.

  “Dane, that ship came in here against the wind, with no one at the oars, no one even at the tiller. That’s not rational. It’s not even possible.”

  Dane started up the beach.

  "Hey," Leech called after him.

  Dane turned.

  “Regardless of what this symbol means, you know what it means for you don't you?"

  Dane sighed and studied the toes of his boots. He nodded. "Yeah, I know.”

  II

  Marked to Die

  "When can you leave?" Arvis Hallander asked his son.

  Dane had been contemplating his answer while walking up to his father’s court. He knew how this conversation would go. For Arvis Hallander, confrontation was a foregone conclusion. He was sure one of the hostile houses had taken the island, and he was already preparing his counterattack.

  “We don’t know what the symbol means,” Dane had said. “We don’t know who they are.”

  “It doesn’t matter who they are,” his father had said. “Not for us. But we’re sure as hell going to make it matter for them.”

  "I'll need to get a crew together; stock our ships,” Dane answered. “It will be a few days."

  “You’ll leave tomorrow night," Arvis said.

  "That's impossible; I don't even know who I'll ask to accompany me."

  "You don't need to think about it, I already have. And we won't be asking. Here."

  His father handed him a paper. It was a list. Glancing over it, Dane guessed it held about thirty names, maybe a shade more. He didn’t recognize all of them, but he recognized the one at the top and that was enough to tell him what kind of mission this would be. He turned back to his father.

  “One ship? You’re giving me a single ship’s worth of soldiers to do this with? What do you expect me to do with thirty men?”

  “It’s not like royalty to complain, Dane.”

  "And you want me to tell these men they have to be on a boat tomorrow night, headed for the unknown?"

  "This is too urgent and important a matter to leave it solely in your hands. I've already sent runners. They'll report at the docks tomorrow morning to load their things."

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Arvis nodded towards the list. "Don’t act so neglected, Dane. I didn’t put this list together haphazardly. I'm sending some of our best men. Try not to waste them.”

  "Wasted or not, thirty men won't be enough," Dane said. "If an enemy's taken the island and they sent someone back to tell us so, it stands to reason they'll be waiting for us."

  "It also stands to reason they could be trying to draw us into committing a larger force to the island so they can strike us here unprotected."

  "Well, if they've taken the island at all, it's beyond question they have a lot more than thirty men."

  Arvis sighed. "Land on the island undetected and survey the situation in stealth. If you can't take it back, return here and we'll put together a larger force if possible." Arvis paused and looked out the window. "But, Dane, understand what I'm doing for you here. I'm giving you another chance. There are many men who are going to question my decision about putting you in charge of this mission. I'll probably question it myself. Especially in light of your performance at Loshōn.”

  “So you’re throwing away the lives of thirty men to give me a chance to prove myself to you?”

  “It’s not me you need to prove yourself to. It’s the people. The people you will one day rule. Don't let your weaknesses become their burden again. This is your chance to prove you can lead our people, that you deserve to lead our people. Don't scorn it. Don't spurn me."

  “Is that all?"

  His father took a deep breath and Dane used the silence to turn towards the door. "Dane," his father called. "I still believe in you."

  Just what is it you still believe about me? Dane thought as he headed out the hall.

  ***

  "No," Dane told the man in front of him. "Absolutely not."

  The morning sun rose above the hills behind the docks where the chosen men were assembling and loading the Bloodwake, the ship which would convey them to Haven. Will Thatcher, one of the senior men on the list, had spent the last several minutes trying to convince Dane to acquiesce to a most unusual request. Will’s wife, Molly, wanted to accompany him.

  “But, sir,” Will said, "She'd be a big help to us."

  "We're beyond help, Will," Dane said. "For all we know we're walking into an ambush. We might not even get off the boat before we're all corpses."

  "But, Dane, sir, I think that's part of why she wants to go so badly."

  "If she has a death wish why doesn't she just stay here? My father will have his house cut to pieces the way he's attacking the others."

  "That's the other reason I think she should come. She's not any safer here, and, whatever we face, we want to face it together. Isn't there anything I can do to convince you, sir?"

  "Stop calling me ‘sir’," Dane said.

  "I'm sorry, sir?"

  "Stop calling me ‘sir’. You’re twenty years my senior and if you were twenty years my junior you still wouldn't be my supplicant." Dane sighed. Last night, as he lay on his bed, he had come to grips with the fact the voyage to Haven might be a one-way affair. He had steeled himself for the inevitable confrontations there would be with the men who tried to refuse the risky assignment. He had mulled over what he would say to them. He would say the only thing he could, the truth. The future was an unknown. By the time the sky grew light and it was time to head for the docks, Dane felt he was ready to lead the men onto the ship and comfort and coax the fearful into joining him (they did not, after all, really have any choice in the matter). What he hadn't expected was for men to ask him to allow their family members to join them. But Will seemed to know what he and Molly were getting into. And they certainly knew what they wanted. The couple had no children. Molly had no other life to live if Will never came home. Dane shook his head. “Can she cook?”

  “Like an angel.”

  “Alright, then.”

  “You mean she can come?”

  “If my father’s expects us all to go and die on some godforsaken rock in the middle of the ocean, at least he’d better not expect us to do it on nothing but Fish’s cooking.” (Trenton Fischer, the company cook, had earned his nickname less on his surname than on the soldiers’ claim that all his cooking smelled like dead sea creatures).

  "Yes, sir!" said Will.

  Dane frowned and Will gave a grimace that couldn’t help twisting into a smile. "Sorry. But thank you, sir."

  Bailus Conley strode up to Dane with the list in his hands. "Everyone's reported except Joseph Leit, sir .”

  Dane took the list and looked it over, as though hoping it might give him a different report than Bailus. There was a check by every name but Joseph's. That didn’t leave a whole lot of room for other interpretations. "Thank you."

  Bailus nodded and walked away. Dane folded up the paper and put it away with a sigh. He was afraid he knew why Joseph had not come. At any rate, it fell to him to find out.

  It was noon by the time he made it to the Leit’s farm. He found Nora Leit hanging the washing behind the house and told her he was looking for Joseph. Joseph’s mother didn't say anything. "Can you tell me where he is?"

  “No," she said, but without looking at him.

  “You know me, Mrs. Leit."

  She sighed. "He headed for the barn, I think. You might catch him if you hurry.”

  Dane found Joseph in the barn. He had a canvas pack with him stuffed full of apples. He was wrestling a bag of oats into it when Dane said his name from the doorway. “I’m not going. There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”

  Dane nodded. He did not think Joseph a coward. Realist was probably a better word for it. He was one of the few men Dane had ever trained who had not maintained silly, romantic illusions about combat
before his first fight. “Well, let’s talk about it anyway.”

  Joseph let go of the pack and slumped down on the hay against a stall panel. “You can kill me now if you want. It’ll just save time.”

  Dane let out a long breath; it was a placeholder, something to give him time to think and get his words in order. He hunkered down beside Joseph. "There's a chance we may all die out there. Maybe it's a pretty good chance. But it's still only a chance. But you know what'll happen if you stay here. There will be no chance or further choice. At the very least my father will hunt you down. I won't be here to speak up for you, and you know he wouldn't listen to me if I was. But it won't be just you; your family will have to live with the sorrow of it, and the shame. If he lets them live."

  Joseph glanced into Dane's eyes and then turned away. The glance only lasted a second but it was long enough for Dane to see Joseph knew he wasn't speaking idle threats, that he wasn't speaking threats at all, just being honest. And Dane knew then Joseph already knew these things, he'd already been thinking of them. That was why he’d given Dane time to catch up to him, even if he hadn't realized he was doing it. Dane let out his breath again. "I'll give you the afternoon to think it over. We shove off at dark." He laid his hand on Joseph's shoulder and squeezed. He rose and turned towards the door. "I know you won't let anybody down."

  "I had a dream."

  Dane paused in the doorway. "Alright?"

  Joseph was staring at the wall in front of him but his eyes weren't focused on anything in particular. “A dream about the island.” He glanced in Dane’s direction. "I saw a whole bunch of bodies. Impaled on spikes on a wall. Just hanging there, limp and lifeless as scarecrows; hung there like swine in a slaughterhouse."

  “I won't lie to you,” Dane said. “We don't know what we'll find. The colonists might all be dead. But they might still be alive and in need of our help.” He turned to leave.

  “You don’t understand,” Joseph said. Dane halted once more. Joseph looked him in the eyes. "Those bodies I saw hanging from the wall. They weren't the colonists'. They were ours."