by Lance Wilson
“You did well, it seems your master is here to speak with you” Ishmael says nodding over to Fuma, and then bows to the master of the Hojo clan.
“Master Fuma, I am sorry, I came up to find you, and you were obviously not here. I would like to speak to you in private about the captain of the ship” he says glaring in the direction of the helm of the ship.
“Yes we must talk. Ishmael, has he served you well today” Fuma asks and looks as the orukai looks over the rope again smiling once more at the blood.
“Indeed, he is a hard working, no sailor by any means, but give him time and some more trips and he might become one” Ishmael says bowing politely
“Well then, for the next few days he is yours to command, I want him worked and worked hard, I shall have him report to the captain who will then report to you when he come on deck. I shall also see to it that his attire is more fitting for the work. Good day Ishmael” he says calmly and smiles then takes Attonnan by the shoulder
“Master, what I have to speak to you about is rather important” he says and growls at Ishmael.
“I know all about what happened and I will have a talk with the captain, but you must understand, this is his ship and you have no right to talk to him like that. You will learn your place Attonnan, and until you do, I have decided that you are to do Ishmael’s job until we get back home. Do you understand” he says his voice cold and dark.
Attonnan’s eyes flash open in shock. How can he do it, how can he let a man talk about him that way, he is the master and lord of the Hojo clan. He should never let anyone talk to him like that and get away with it. He will not allow it to go unpunished, if the lord and master of the Hojo won’t do it, then he will. Not yet, but soon, he just has to figure it out. Attonnan stays at the side of his master as they walk through the bowls of the ship back to the room that they both share. Once inside Fuma has Attonnan sit on the side of the bed as he pours out a small bowl of water.
“Let me see those hands” Fuma says this time his voice full of compassion like the loving father Attonnan has grown to know him as.
Attonnan holds out his hands palm up and winces as Fuma begins to run his finger over the bleeding calluses. He only shakes his head and then begins to wash the skin making sure all the splinters of rope and dirt are out of the wounds. Once he is finished with cleaning them he begins to wrap them. Attonnan closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, the wraps are tight to his hands, but they are still soft and do not aggravate the blisters any further.
“You should sleep well tonight, tomorrow when you get up I want you to go straight to the helm of the ship, you will then report to the captain, keep it short and give him no lip do you hear me” Fuma says and then begins to help him undress himself, his hands too sore for him to do it himself.
“Yes master” Attonnan says lowering his head. So it is true, he will bow to the captain on his own ship. That is okay, others will not see how weak he is, he will find a way to make that son of a bitch captain pay for speaking ill of Fuma Hojo. And if worse comes to worse and he has to pay for it, he will. This is not about him; it is about everyone seeing the strength of his master. With those thoughts he lies down in bed pressing himself against his master and drifts deep into sleep. Fuma holds his young apprentice and smiles into the darkness. Attonnan is already shaping into the perfect apprentice. He was furious when the captain tried to dictate to him, and even more so when the captain denied that this was his ship but rather the captain’s ship. It isn’t much to him who runs the ship, but to Attonnan, well it would seem that Attonnan only wants to make sure that everyone knows who runs this ship and who is in charge. As he drifts off to sleep he feels Attonnan press even further into him. He has done his job well, Attonnan sees him as his father, as his whole world, without him, Attonnan would crumble, snap, probably self destruct. He only chuckles at this and drifts on to sleep.
“Fool, your arrogance shall be the undoing of all of us, even after my warnings you plan to lay claim to the boy. You will not mark him, not in any way, he is stronger then you think and shall not only be your undoing but the undoing of all our work” his masters voice shouts at him from the darkness. He quickly opens his eyes to find that he is no longer in the cabin of the ship but instead it is in the temple of the Dagoth clan, somewhere he has not been allowed to go since he was cast out. He knew that this place was on the top of a huge temple, set upon a mountain in the red mountain range. The temple of the six arches was what the outsiders called it, cause as you walked up to the mountain and into the cave that would lead you to the bottom floor, there was a bright white stone path and six eastern style archways before you entered the cave. But this was at the top, it was a huge flat plateau covered in ankle high grass and edged with huge white roman like pillars, with the exception of the four directions, in the exact spot of the four directions were four archways, in the north and south were more eastern design, bright red as well, in the east and west were archways that you might find in a cathedral of the western cultures, a dark dingy stone gray. He can hear the sounds of birds and insects moving about. He can also see that the sun is setting and painting the sky a blood red and turning the white pillars between the four directions are now turning a bright orange. He can only stand there and watch the sun go down. He has not been here for a long time, and being here, now, before his master, seems to humble himself.
“Did you hear me apprentice, you will not mark him” It is his masters cold and cruel voice.
He looks over and sees him, this time his hood is down and he can see his masters face clear. He has gone through markings like no other and it shows now in his deformities as an elf. His skin is blood red with black markings his eyes a glowing green with black slits. On his head is a crown of horns most of which are small, but the two just above his eyebrows are long and pointed forward. His mouth is full of razor sharp yellow teeth, three rows in his upper and lower jaw, much like a sharks jaw. His cloak is open showing that he wears only black baggy pants, a black baggy shirt, black gloves and black boots, strapped to his back is a blade, a blade like no other. Fuma has only seen him draw it once and that was only in demonstration. It is a long single handle with two thin lean double edge blades on either side; the handle is made of pure ivory with silver wire on wrapping the length of it. The hilt on either side strikes out not much more then a fist and is pure silver with some markings written on both sides of it, markings that he himself doesn’t know. The blades are a milky white color; they are made of some kind of crystal. The crystal is rare, it is a special crystal that is able to absorb the energy of anyone it cuts. The deeper the cut, the more energy it absorbs. Kill a man with them, and you get all of his life’s energy. Dagoth Ur has killed with them, many times over and it is the energy from those kills that has not only made him a stronger sorcerer but as deformed as he is now.
“Master” Fuma starts but is cut short as he sees his master raise his hand to shut him up.
“There is no discussion, you will not mark him. I bring you here in you mind to remind you that you are a student, and that is all you ever will be. You denied my teachings once, you thought you knew better then I and went off on your own. Do you remember how that turned out?” He says growling at his former student.
How can he forget, he was young, not even a hundred yet. He thought he could take on a small force of elven invaders from the east; they were planning on making a raid for the temple of the six arches. He should have listened to his master and just stayed where he was. The temple is impenetrable unless led through it. And no one was going to lead these men. But instead he went out and fought them; it nearly cost him his life. When it was done he had managed to kill them, but for months he was haunted with their screams and the feel of the blood on his hands. His master said that this was a wound that would never heal and that it weakened him, he was no longer strong enough to be a Dagoth and therefore was cast out of the temple never to return. Be
fore he was sent off though, his master marked him as a Dagoth, not to make him a clansmen, it as only small marks, the red marks on his cheeks like claw marks, no, it was so that he could keep track of him and make sure he caused no more trouble.
“Of course I remember master, but you were wrong, that wound has healed and I am not weak, you should have finished your training with me, it is not I who failed you, it is you who failed me” he growls and pops his knuckles, he can feel the metal of the clawed gauntlets on his hands. He watches his master smile.
“Oh” he says and raises his right hand in a flash causing a huge wave of smoky gray energy to hit Fuma
Just like that it all comes back to him. All the screams of those he killed, the feel of the blood on his hands. And then, then another scream, one he hasn’t heard in over four hundred years, it is his own scream, his as he was four hundred years ago, just a child, a child thrown into the world of men. The scream is high and he can’t make out all of what it is screaming for, but he can catch parts of what it cries for. It cries for freedom, freedom from being locked away in the depths of his soul for so long. The torture only lasts a few second but before it done Fuma falls to his knees, then onto his side, sobbing. He can’t stand it.
“Do not lie to me boy, I know vary well where that wound lies and why. You have not over come it, merely built a wall around it, and walls will not keep me away. You would never have made the ranks of Dagoth, you are too weak” He says and begins to turn his back.
“I care nothing for those I cut down. And I will care nothing of you when you are cut down, you miserable old man” he says a growl in his voice as he slowly gets up.
“Perhaps, perhaps not, all that matters is that the boy you now hold in your arms is not marked, not in any way, do you hear me” he says slowly lifting his hand again.
“I will do as I please, and you failed master, for you taught me this trick” he says and with that he quickly digs his clawed hands into his hand flashing him out of the nightmare and vision.
Fuma wakes in a start sitting straight up in bed, his body covered in cold sweat.
“Master, is something wrong, is there something I can do” Attonnan asks now sitting up with Fuma.
“No, just sleep” he says looking once again at the young apprentice. His eyes full of fear and worry, yes, he would give all he could to him and that is all Fuma needs to know to keep his conviction about marking him. His master was hardly a master to him, one flaw and he threw him away. But he shall be the proper master to Attonnan; bright him to his full power and potential, then it will be him who unleashes Attonnan on the temple of the six arches. He shall undo all of his masters work, and when it is all done, Attonnan will still only look to him, Attonnan will act only when told, move only when told, and only told by him. He will be the perfect servant, the perfect pet. He watches as Attonnan lies back down and shuts his eyes to drift back to sleep only in a matter of seconds. Fuma smiles and lays back down himself, the prefect pet, he will obey every command, and one of those commands, the most important one will be kill, kill my enemies, kill my master, that is what he will tell him, and Attonnan will do it. With those thoughts he drifts once more into sleep. This time, a peaceful one that goes uninterrupted.
Attonnan slowly wakes and stretches out. Just like the last time Fuma is no longer with him, but there is no real concern. He slowly gets up making sure to test his hands. The bandages have helped and though they are sore he will be able to do most everything they will need of him. He then goes to get dressed but stops short. It will be hot up there; he should make sure he is ready for it. Slowly he puts on his baggy pants and boots, he then takes the long silk sash and ties it around his head keeping his hair out of his eyes. He has to fold it in half before he can do it. He then looks himself over and smiles, good enough. He won’t need the shirt cause of the heat, and last time he helped the orukai he can’t remember how many times he wiped his hair out of his face. This should be enough cloth to get the job done. He then walks up to the deck of the ship then to the helm of the ship standing next to the captain, his eyes blazing, the captain shall pay. But he has to be careful, has to know what he’s doing and right now there is no real way to get away with it. The captain look down at Attonnan seeing that he is ready for work, but only gives him a smirk and smiles. He pretends not to notice him for a bit, making sure Attonnan knows that he is not the most important thing here and can be ignored just like everyone else. In about three or four minutes he shouts for Ishmael, who comes just like the obedient servant he is.
“Your charge is here, work him hard, work him tell he breaks,” the captain says with a smile and laugh.
Ishmael only nods and just like that the day starts. Working the ship is just like a routine, nothing changes, tie this, pull that, mop this, and tether that down. Attonnan feels his mind begin to drift into other thoughts, thoughts of home, and thoughts of his siblings. He wonders if Fuma has looked for his other brothers, found out what they are doing. All the time he works for Ishmael, making sure not to make a mistake, or risk being struck by the large man. The day rolls on in mindless repetition and soon Attonnan finds himself staring up in the setting sky.
“Chow time” Ishmael says laying a hand on the young elf’s back.
He has to admit when he was first put in charge of this young elf he didn’t expect much of him. But working with him for the second day he can see that he is a hard worker and fast learner. Everything he taught him the first day has already sunk in and he now does most of it without thinking, like any other sailor on this ship. Ishmael smiles and guides Attonnan to the hulls of the ship to the main quarters for the crew, there he sees that the crew is mostly made up of rag tag men who he can only guess are trying to out run some kind of bounty on there head. They joke around and laugh with each other, all of them go silent as Ishmael walks in with Attonnan.
“What’s with the pampered palace brat?” one says growling at Ishmael
“I bring who I want to chow, got a problem Shem?” He says now walking up and standing before a large dark skinned elf.
The elf has dark brown skin with scars covering his chest and arms, he wears bright blue pants with a gold sash, his hair like Ishmael’s is in dreadlocks and his dark brown eyes show of a fire. The two stands toe to toe with one another but soon Shem looks down and grumbling sits back down.
“Any other problems” Ishmael says growling across the tables.
All the crew, over forty men only mumble something but keep there heads focused on there dinner.
“Come have a seat, you’ll eat with me and not this other scum” Ishmael says snarling a bit.
“Ahh, we’re not good enough for the little prince” another says hidden in the crowd
“You’re right, I am a prince, a prince of a dead clan” Attonnan says anger building in him. He will not take this from scum like them. He is the apprentice of Fuma Hojo; he is above them, above all of them. They will answer to him.
Attonnan’s eyes move across the room to see who said it and then watches as something stands up. He is not sure what it is and has never seen anything like it.
Its skin is bright sea blue, along its body is a kind of shell and its eyes are a hollow yellow. Close set together near middle of his head, just above the small indentation that Attonnan can only assume is it’s nose, out of its mouth shout a small set of mandibles and at it smiles he sees that folds of skin open up making a square, small tusks showing on each corner. The middle of the mouth past the folds of skin have yellow razor sharp teeth like a bare trap. It is dressed in a light gray shirt with a black toga over it, tied in the middle with a steal chain. Along the things wrists are chains that move all the way up to his elbow. Along his back is a harpoon gun.
“Easy young one, I don’t think you are ready for him.” Ishmael says in a whisper so no one else can hear and save Attonnan some face.
Atto
nnan only snarls and shrugs off Ishmael’s hand walking up to this beast.
“Your name?” Attonnan demands of the creature.
“They call me Kraken,” he says as the others cheer
“And I am Attonnan, now I ask you this politely, shut your mouth before I shut it for you” He says growling at the creature
“You and what army” he says as others begin to clear a small area waiting for the fight to begin.
“I hardly need an army for the likes of you” Attonnan says and smirks at the beast
Before he knows it Kraken is already on the attack and with a quick backhand he flings Attonnan to the ground sliding him along the ship a couple of inches. Attonnan is stunned and already knows that he has lost the fight. As he stands he finds that Kraken now has a hold of his hair and quickly slams Attonnan’s head into one of the tables making it bounce off and Attonnan fall to the ground his vision blurring now. The crowd roars as Kraken shows this young palace brat who is master down here. Ishmael wants to jump in. he is one of the few that can keep Kraken in his place, but that is not how things are done here, not among his men, if you challenge, you better be sure that you can handle it. Kraken smiles to see Attonnan still rolling on the floor and goes for a kick to the ribs. Attonnan however knows that this one is going to fight dirty and waits for the kick. The kick is fast and painful but as it hits his ribs he quickly wraps one arm around his ankle keeping his foot at his side. Then with the other hand dose a stunning uppercut right to the things groin. He remembered hearing that men think women aboard a ship are a curse, so he can only figure this thing is a man, and he is right. Kraken drops like a rock to the ground after the punch and Attonnan staggers to his feet. Then gives Kraken a swift kick to the head. Then takes a step back to gain a few moments to himself. That is a mistake, Kraken gets up barely able to walk, but this brat will not put him down. Attonnan goes for a punch, but Kraken quickly sways out of the way and grabs the arm by the wrist, and elbow. Then using his leverage he slams Attonnan’s head into the table again, blood starts to trickle down his forehead, then keeping his hands where they are, he slams him into a post in the middle of the room, the crowd roars and cheers in its bloodlust, again he slams Attonnan into the post, again and again until soon he feels Attonnan go limp in his grip and fall to the ground. The young prince has been shown that you do not mess with the crew, and that you do not assume that you are better just cause of a title. Kraken raises his arms and receives the praise and cheers of the crew. But his victory is short lived as Ishmael grabs him hard on the shoulder, a snarl on his face.