A Poisoned Land (Book 1: Faith, Lies and Blue Eyes)

by Craig P Roberts

  The older brothers would take each pod for a second training after midday. Then they were all free for the afternoon until the teachings before supper. The teachings were long, sometimes going on for hours. The Mister would speak about the goddesses and the creation of the world and how the Mother’s Island came to be. Owin respected those parts but what he most enjoyed was when the Mister would speak of how brothers could please the goddesses, and the wonderful things they do to please the brothers. Of course, most of the brothers would not experience these things until the next life.

  But Owin planned to be obedient and live by the Mother’s words so he might be chosen for the Hidden Womb. When a brother reaches a certain age, the Mister will decide—through the will of the Mother—if he is worthy enough to lay with the remaining goddesses on the Hidden Womb. Those that the Mister deems not to be worthy, serve on the watch posts that protect the Mother’s Island.

  “The Hidden Womb is an island much like our own,” the Mister would teach. “However, this particular island was chosen by the Mother to hide Her most precious of goddesses—Her last to remain in this world. For it is up to the chosen few brothers to lay with these goddesses to give us more brothers, and perhaps goddesses, until the Mother sees fit to bring them all back into this world.”

  The end of the teachings was the time all of the brothers looked forward to most. It meant some would experience a vision. When the Mister felt a brother was of age and earned his chance, he would take them to the vision chamber. There, they were allowed to indulge themselves in ways not allowed anywhere else on the island. Owin never had this chance but he knew it would be coming soon. He just had to wait, but the waiting tortured him every morning and night as he lay on his bed. He trusted the Mister and never disobeyed the Mother’s teachings. So waiting was all he could do.

  Life is essentially meaningless. There is inherently no pattern to our lives, only ones we create. This is not a negative, it simply means we are all free.

  Lennam’s Journal

  Student of the Knowledgeable Arts

  Baskie

  Visitor to The weird Island

  The island’s coast was in sight as he rowed towards its white sandy beach. He hadn’t been back to the weird island in nearly a year. It was safe there; that’s why Baskie visited every so often. The old Mister and the boys acted strangely but he considered some to be friends. They made up stories like nearly everywhere else in the Known World and actually believed them; gods and ghosts, worshiping them and hoping that they would save them from their sins…fuckwits. On this island they spoke of the Mother. Just another made-up deity who seemed overly concerned about what mere mortals were up to or if they had faith. Baskie would play along in the few times he had visited. It seemed to be enough to satisfy the Mister that he was no threat to his little herd.

  The old Mister let him stay in one of their pods, as they called them, the couple of times Baskie had visited the island. He liked the strangely-shaped, grass-roofed, timber pods because they were warm and away from the wind and rain. The rooms had clean, fresh air which got him away from all of the grass and seeds that made his eyes puff up and his nose run and itch throughout the warm-season.

  The bit that Baskie didn’t like about the weird island were the shit lessons that he and the boys were made to sit through. The old Mister would go on for hours about goddesses and all the things that you weren’t allowed to do. “If you are to stay under the Mother’s roof on this, Her most sacred place, then you must learn Her ways,” the old man had once told him.

  He liked it on the island though, because it was also the only place he went where they wouldn’t ask him where his parents were and where he came from.

  The boys here had trials in the warm-season where they fought hand-to-hand and with staffs. He was never allowed to take part though. One of the island-boys told him all about it and this time he wanted to fight. His friend Kiko, the Blind-Seer, taught him many skills in the time he was away from the island. Here, he could test them in relative safety. Testing them on the streets of Narscape, or the wilds of Vostos, would likely get him killed. Only a fuckwit provokes an attack, he would hear Kiko saying in her strange broken way. Her wisdom always flowed through his head, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

  He hauled his boat up onto the sand and walked up the beach towards the grass. The midday sun beat down but the wind from the salt water blew cold, making his skin pimple and messed up his already scruffy, wiry, brown hair. Baskie’s skinny arms hung out of a white cotton vest that was becoming less and less white every day. His legs (more thickset than his upper body) poked out of white shorts which came to just above his knees. Noises echoed around his stomach as it called for food. The last time he ate was yesterday at sundown, when he stole half a roast glump from Redhorn (one of the outposts he had snuck past to get to the island). He’d also been rowing his small boat for the last five hours.

  All the islands around here were strange. On Lonely Watch, there are four older boys who sit there, day and night, just watching for people who might come along and invade the weird island. Why the Mister was so paranoid, Baskie didn’t understand. The boys on this island can fight like warriors. They can fire arrows. They seem to believe so much in that Mother of theirs, and that old bastard bangs on about Her and how powerful She is, they should have fuck-all to worry about.

  The watches that the Mister had set up to protect his island never impressed Baskie. He’d managed to steal food and weapons from Lonely Watch on their tiny rock of an island. He’d managed to sneak past Redhorn even in broad daylight. He’d slept in one of the chambers in Far Point to escape a storm once and he’d climbed to the fort they call the Nest to take a shit in one of their chamber pots just because he wanted to.

  One person can evade an army of fuckwits, he heard the Blind-Seer’s words in his head again. And that’s how he liked it: one person. He didn’t need anybody else…just him…and he was free.

  When he reached the first sparse, hardy shoots of grass after the sandy beach, he felt the puffiness growing in his nose and eyes. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch and he would often softly punch his own nose in frustration. Moving down the gentle grass slope, he saw the roofs of the two pods, arching out of the ground. From the side, they blended almost seamlessly into the surrounding green fields on account of the arc of the roof being covered in grass. But from the front, its timber wall, round windows and circular door stood out, brown and sharp. He couldn’t wait to get into one of their warm baths and then into a soft bed. He hadn’t slept in a bed for over two moon-turns. Beds make you weak, he remembered being taught, but surely a few nights would help revitalize him. And they always have nice food on the Mother’s Island.

  Away in the distance, was the big gray House of the Mother, where all the island-boys went to listen to the Mister’s ridiculous teachings. It was also where the old Mister lived. Baskie always thought it odd that the house was encircled by ten standing stones, identical to the decas that were used as places of worship in the Ten Kingdoms. Baskie had seen them wherever he traveled in the Known World but only the people of the Ten Kingdoms believed they were built by gods; supposedly to link and bind the Known World together. Of course, as the population grew again after the Great Poison, more decas were erected by the growing number of fuckwits wishing to follow the absurd faith of the Ten.

  Why is there one here on the weird island? He never bothered to ask about it the last time he visited here—or anywhere else that he saw them. Why bother asking when all you’ll get is an earful of made up shite?

  He made his way to the nearest pod and pressed his ear to the warm grain of the wall, listening. Silence. He looked across the grass field and then backed away from the wall. Baskie sidestepped to the lower part of the arching, grass-covered roof of the wooden dwelling. He craned his neck to see over the pod to the field behind. Nobody else was around. A last check through one of the circular windows confirmed he was alone.

  He eased op
en the round door and went inside. All was quiet but the boards creaked underfoot. The wood was warm and smooth. The first room he walked into had soft seats and an unlit fire at one side. On the low table in the middle of the space, was a bowl full of apples. He dived over one of the chairs, grabbed a shiny red apple and crunched into it. It wasn’t as satisfying as a piece of cooked meat, but his empty stomach was thankful. Snatching another one from the bowl, he sank back into the soft chair and lay back. His aching body numbed and he felt his eyelids beginning to close.

  He woke to voices around him. “Look, he’s back,” a lowered voice said. Baskie kept his eyes closed, ready to move. Let the fuckwits make the first move. “He’s not been here in ages,” another one said as he heard footsteps closing around him. Baskie opened his eyes and jumped out of the chair into a crouch on the floor.

  “You’re such a jumpy bastard,” one of them said. Baskie remembered this boy’s face. It was Saul, one of the older island-boys. This one had taught him a little about fighting the last time he was here. Saul was also the first boy Baskie had met when he initially found the island over two years ago. “Where have you been?” Saul reached out a hand which Baskie quickly jumped back from and slapped away. “Jumpy fucker.” Saul laughed.

  Baskie cracked a smile, saying, in a shaky voice, “It’s just ’cause you look like a dodgy bastard.”

  He meant it in jest but it was true…Saul did look like a dodgy bastard. His skin wasn’t as clear as Baskie remembered from his last visit to the island. Gray circles drooped under his eyes. His teeth weren’t as shining white as those of the other island-boys. Even Saul’s hair appeared unkempt.

  Saul laughed and looked round at the other two boys who Baskie didn’t recognize. “I love this little bugger!” He reached out and punched Baskie lightly on the arm before he could dodge out of the way.

  “Who is he?” asked a boy with yellow hair.

  “His name’s Baskie, the Mister got me to look out for him the other times he was on the island. You were staying in the other pod last time,” Saul said, as he picked up Baskie’s apple core from the ground.

  The yellow-haired boy looked at Baskie, declaring, “He can’t stay here if he’s not a chosen brother.”

  “Fuck off, Frazer! I like him. He makes me laugh. Eh?” Saul looked over at Baskie still crouched on the floor.

  Baskie forced a sort of smile at Saul. He felt quite safe with Saul around. Quite safe… Only fuckwits feel totally safe, the Blind-Seer’s words echoed in his mind.

  “I make you laugh too though, don’t I?” piped ‘Yellow Boy’.

  Who is this guy? He sounds like a begging whore.

  “You make me more than laugh, brother.” Saul laughed.

  What did that mean?

  Yellow Boy smiled back, almost looking proud.

  “Frazer, go back to our room. I’ll be there soon,” Saul said, winking. Yellow Boy went off, banging the door closed behind him. “So why are you here then?”

  I needed to be safe for a while, he wanted to say. Never show weakness. “I came back so you could teach me to fight more. I’ve learned lots too,” Baskie said, in a less shaky voice. And I’m going to kick all of your arses in the trials. He held his tongue on that part.

  “Where the fuck have you been all this time?” Saul asked.

  “Everywhere. Just loads of different places.” He didn’t want to reveal all the places he’d been and things he’d learnt. He tried to get Saul onto another subject. “So can you teach me more?”

  “You make me laugh so much, you weird little shit.” Saul smiled.

  You’re not laughing though. “Will you?!” Baskie snapped. Saul’s piss-taking was beginning to grate.

  “Alright, brother,” Saul said to Baskie, standing up. “You go back to sleep if you want. I’ve got to go do something through there.” He pointed to what Baskie assumed was his bedchamber. “Then I’ll go and let the Mister know you’re back. If you stay long enough you could watch the trials.”

  I don’t just want to watch them.

  The first time he saw one of the trials was more than two years ago. It was the initial thing he saw when he arrived on the island for the very first time. It was one moon-turn since he ran away from his home in the kingdoms and he came across the island by chance on his stolen boat. As he walked up the beach, he thought the island was his own, totally deserted, until he heard the cheering. He hid behind the slope leading up to the grass and popped his head over to see what was happening. A crowd, all of them wearing blue robes, gathered in a circle around fifty footfalls away. An old man in white stood still in a bustling crowd of blue. Baskie remembered his eyes puffing up and his nose getting itchy. The crowd gave a roaring cheer. Then silence fell. He sneezed. It just came out. Ducking below the slope again, he felt another coming. Aaachooo! He buried his face in his arms, trying to stop the noise getting out. He heard the crowd again, cheering and laughing. The pressure went from his nose and he decided to have another look.

  What he saw was like a slap in the face. The old man in white and one of the boys in blue were halfway between the crowd and the slope. They were coming his way. All of a sudden their eyes were locked onto him. He froze. The boy ran towards him but the old man raised his hand and shouted, “Hold, Saul.” The boy stopped instantly. The gray-haired man crouched, staring at Baskie. “Fear not, my friend. We mean you no harm.”

  The last person to say that did mean me harm, Baskie thought as his heartbeat thumped through his body.

  The man in white and the boy in blue were walking towards him, no more than ten footfalls away.

  “What is your name, my friend?” The old man stretched out an arm in a long white sleeve.

  “Baskie,” he whispered.

  “Blue eyes…” the elderly man said quietly, as if to nobody. That’s when Baskie noticed the pair of old brown eyes staring back at him. “Saul, take Baskie to your pod and let him have some of our roast gogor from last night. He looks hungry.” The smile on the aged man’s face seemed friendly and the sound of roast gogor made Baskie’s mouth water. They were ugly, mud-dwelling, snorting beasts but produced the tastiest, salty meat in the Known World.

  The boy in blue bowed to the old man. “Yes, Mister.” He walked faster towards Baskie who was frozen to the spot. A firm hand grabbed his wrist and gave him little choice but to follow.

  The old man in white started walking back over to the crowd. “Best take him along the shore so he is not seen. I will need to decide how to proceed. Can you fill him in on the ways while I make my excuses? I will join you shortly.”

  “Yes, Mister.” The boy in blue started walking with Baskie along the sand, keeping below the ridge. “Where are you from? We don’t get many visitors.” The boy in blue stared ahead. He’d occasionally check over the ridge to make sure others from the crowd hadn’t wandered to see what was happening.

  “I ran away.”

  “Ran away from what?”

  Baskie didn’t answer.

  “Look, the Mister will help you. You look like one of us.” He pointed at Baskie’s eyes. “All the brothers have blue eyes. You can be one of us and the Mister will protect you. The Mother will protect you,” the boy said, still checking over the slope.

  Baskie kept quiet. Does he mean his mother will protect me? The Mister is the old man…How will he be able to protect me? And it’s strange to see an island of boys with blue sight following a common brown-eyed man. That wouldn’t fucking happen back home! He remembered so many questions and thoughts running through his mind.

  The boy in blue stopped and crouched. Baskie did the same, taking the opportunity to check out the boy’s face. He had short scruffy hair. Back home, he would be described as a bit of a peasant, but the kind that girls would probably chase. The boy looked like he could fight and get angry when he wanted to. The thing that struck Baskie most was the boy’s eyes: one was blue and the other was brown. He’d never seen anything like it before.

  “Okay, see that po
d?” The boy pointed over the ridge. Baskie popped his head up over the bank and saw a strange wooden dwelling. Its roof was curved and seemed to arch straight out of the ground at either end. Grass covered the curve which made it look even more like it sprouted from the ground.

  Baskie nodded.

  “We’re going to run towards that and then you’ll get food, okay?”

  Baskie nodded again. They both dived over the ridge and began to run to the wooden house. It was no more than thirty footfalls away now. He saw the crowd far to his left, but they were too occupied with what was going on in the middle of the big group of blue to take notice.

  They arrived at the door. It opened onto a room with soft chairs and a table with a platter of roast gogor. “Help yourself,” said the boy in blue. Baskie didn’t hesitate and ran to the low table in the middle of the room, hunkered onto his knees and ate like a wild animal. The boy laughed from behind him, asking, “When did you last eat?”

  He was too busy eating to answer.

  Later, the old man came into the wooden house and said that Baskie would be allowed to stay with them as long as he wanted but he must follow the ways of the Mother. The thing that stuck in Baskie’s head was the Mister asking, “Baskie, have you ever lain with false goddesses?”

  “No, Mister,” he replied, not really knowing at the time its meaning. But now, two years later, he realized what he meant that day. They called all women, goddesses. He hadn’t lain with a woman before then. And to this day, nearly two years later, he had still not lain with one.

  Even though he hadn’t see the actual fighting on his first visit two years ago, he still remembered the sound of the crowd and how much he wanted to be in the middle of it. And now, knowing what he knows and having been trained by the Blind-Seer, he knew he could take every single one of the fuckwits.

  Hal gave His forest as a gift to all mortals to sustain them, heal them and nurture them.