Despite the graceful descent under the pilot’s guidance the ship landed into the water with an enormous splash. The Lightning-hound slid in the water towards the docks on the shore of the island. Valves on each side of the lower hull opened, allowing water to fill the ballast tanks and stabilize the vessel, which floated very high in the water. As the hull reached the wooden docks a pair of anchors released from each side of the bow and dropped into the water, quickly halting the vessel’s forward momentum.
A steel ramp lowered onto the dock, small spikes on each side embedding into the wooden planks and securing a solid attachment. From the depths of the ships came a cloud of hot steam, followed by twenty four soldiers in dark blue combat uniforms. They hurried out of the ship in three rows, each man and woman brandishing a rifle in their arms. Their faces were pale and decorated with blue tattoos. Some had swirling marks unique to their family clans, while a minority possessed a single blue line.
Master Wynn took up the rear, carrying a bolt action rifle identical to the other warrior’s weapons, but with the addition of a sword at her hip. The group of soldiers hurried across the dock before setting foot upon solid ground. The villagers had constructed the dock with a foundation of stonework and mortar, with wooden planks set across the top. Wynn glanced to the side as they passed a small sailing ship that was submerged on the other side of the dock, the mast of which barely poked out of the water. It appeared as if it had been scuttled, the wooden vessel blackened and ruined. The torn sail fluttered back and forth in the gentle waves.
As the soldiers progressed into the village they could hear only the crunch of their boots upon the gravel street. There were no horses or motorized carriages. No cats, dogs, or chickens. No children playing or craftsmen at work. The entire colony was silent and still. Wynn ordered two marines to stay near the docks while the rest followed the main road, heading towards the great-house.
Wynn followed behind, her eyes flitting around the empty houses. The village reminded her of her own home far to the north, on the shores of lake Nehalenia. She could almost hear the sound of her mother calling her as they passed laundry hung to dry between houses. As they neared the great-house acrid smoke began to sting her senses, watering her eyes.
The group fanned out as they entered the square at the center of the village. After a moment of silence Wynn twisted her rifle over her shoulder and approached the smoldering ruin. The walls of the structure had begun to buckle, even though most of the fire had died out. She peered through the hall’s doorway before taking a step inwards.
“Master, it looks like its about to collapse,” one of the soldiers, a younger woman, warned.
“I know,” Wynn said, holding up her hand. Inside she could see the smoldering ruins of the rafters, which had collapsed into the middle of the hall. Around the edge of the walls she could just make out the charred remains of those who had been burned. It looked as if the hall had been brimming with people.
Suppressing the urge to vomit she retreated from the doorway and noted the positions of her marines who had spread out in front of the great-house. “I want everyone to fan out and search the village. If anyone is alive bring them back here,” she ordered. She turned back towards the hall and searched around the outer wall until she found a cast-iron medallion half buried in ash. She reached down and picked it up, knocking out the debris covering it and revealing the sigil of the clan who had settled the island. The sigil depicted a wolf with four stars arrayed above it. One of the stars was larger than the others. Wynn knew it represented her people’s home-world before they had immigrated to Kaeliterra.
She began to carry the sigil back down the main road, heading towards the ship. Her thoughts returned once again to her home village, and of the sigil she knew sat above the door in her own clan’s great-house.
Max stood on the bridge as the crew secured the Lightning-hound to its moorings. He was forced to wait as Wynn and her marines ventured into the village. Despite his confidence in her abilities, after all she was a far better soldier than he, he still felt uneasy at being left behind.
A phone rang on the bridge and was answered by the navigator. “Captain, it’s the watchman. He’s spotted someone moving in the hills above the village.”
Max turned from the window and took the handset from the crewman. “What did you see?”
“I was looking north towards the edge of the forest, beyond the village,” the watchman answered. “I saw movement and spotted someone moving amongst the brush like they were trying to keep hidden. I don’t think it was an adult, but I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl.”
“Alright, good eye,” Max said. He hung up the phone and reset the receiver, switching it to broadcast his voice to all speakers in the ship. “This is the Captain, would Commander Alfhidr please report to the bridge.”
A few moments later Commander Alfhidr, a tough women ten years Max’s senior, arrived. She wore the same dark blue uniform as he did, although she lacked a couple of the insignia that displayed his superior rank. She stood in a tight salute, her long silver hair tied back in a bun. “Sir,” she greeted.
“I’m going ashore,” Max revealed, quickly returning her salute. “You have the bridge until I return. If you spot any ships or any other sort of activity, sound the horns and I’ll hurry back.”
“Yes sir,” she answered. Max left the bridge, taking the first turn in the corridor and going down the stairwell that led belowdecks. He quickly moved through the main corridor and arrived in his cabin. He pushed aside the sliding door that revealed his dress cabinet. Next he pulled out the second drawer from the top and pulled out a revolver pistol and its belt, which he put around his waist. He checked to make sure his weapon was loaded and then headed back into the corridor, bypassing the stairs that led up to the top deck. Instead he quickly walked all the way down the corridor, passing an engineer who saluted him smartly, until he reached another stairwell. Descending this set took him into the ships innards, between the bladders that held the ship’s buoyant gas, which was currently compressed within brass tanks. Filling the bladders with normal air, and the ballasts with water, comfortably held the ship down.
Max reached the bottom half of the ship, below the air bladders, and exited the ramp that Wynn and her marines had stormed out of not half an hour prior. He let his eyes adjust for a moment to the light before leaving the dock. As he entered the village he realized the only sounds he could hear were the crunching of his own boots upon the gravel and the breeze drifting through the wooden structures of the village. There were no people, or signs of activity of any kind.
Max continued on until he was about halfway towards the center of the village. He heard someone coming towards him, a jarring sound amongst the silence, causing him to bring his hand to his pistol. He carefully rounded a slight corner in the road, prepared to pull out his firearm if need be.
“Wynn?” Max asked as he spotted the tall warrior coming towards him. His hand relaxed over the handle of his pistol.
“What in the gods’ great-house do you think you’re doing?” she responded. “Why aren’t you on the ship?”
“You know I don’t like sitting around,” Max said, smiling grimly. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding towards the piece of metal she held in one hand.
“It’s the sigil of the clan that built this village. I found it in the ashes at the great-house…someone burned them Max.”
“All of them? There must’ve been hundreds of people living in this village,” he said, looking around at the buildings surrounding them.
“I…I don’t know. I didn’t look too closely.”
“Well, that will have to wait. The watchman spotted someone moving in the hills north of the village.”
“Why didn’t you say so earlier,” Wynn said, frowning angrily. She reached around her back and placed the sigil in her bag. Next she retrieved her rifle, lowering it from her shoulder. “Let’s go.” She hurried down the street, abandoning caution. Max tried his best to keep up with her.
As they ran Wynn whistled, gaining the attention of two marines, a man and a woman, who were still inspecting the abandoned village. The marines joined them without a word, and together they ran until they left the village behind. A path in the brush lay ahead of them, winding its way up the foothills of the island. Rocks and boulders littered the hillside, providing an ample quantity of material for building.
Wynn paused as the trail began to enter a small forested area. The two marines gathered together, eager for a status update.
“The watchman spotted someone moving in the hills above the village,” Max revealed. “They should be up in here somewhere,” he added motioning towards the craggy hillside that rose above the village.
“What did they look like?” Wynn asked.
“Don’t know any details,” he answered. “Only that it appeared to be smaller than an adult. Probably a kid.”
“Okay,” Wynn nodded before turning towards one of the marines. “You stay behind, guard the entrance to the village in case they get by us,” she ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting quickly before turning back down the trail.
“I’ll follow the trail to the east, you follow it to the west,” Wynn ordered the remaining marine, who nodded her head affirmatively. “Max, you stick to the trail, if either one of us spot something we will signal. You should try and head further up the hillside and prevent them from escaping.”
“Yes ma’am,” he nodded. Wynn and the marine split up, leaving Max alone on the trail. He waited until they had disappeared into the trees before continuing upwards. The trail sloped slowly, winding its way around boulders and huge palm trees. He could hear birds chirping angrily in the distance, likely in alarm at the humans disturbing their environment. The sweet smell of flowers in bloom hung around him, some of them smelling less like perfume and more like fermenting alcohol.
Max came to an outcropping of rock that rose above the nearby trees. He carefully mounted the largest boulder, which was wet with moisture. Below he could see the forest stretching out around him. In the distance lay the village, a slight haze of smoke still drifting above it. Beyond that he could make out the Lightning-hound still safely secured to the dock.
A flock of birds suddenly erupted from the trees tens of meters down the side of the hill. They chirped in alarm as they flew in every direction. Max jumped from the boulder and took off at a run, careful to avoid tripping in the tangled roots underneath. He could hear the sound of someone manically crashing through the brush ahead of him, just barely out of site. He was just about to catch up when he heard a startled cry.
Max burst through a thick grouping of ferns and found himself standing atop a large boulder perched precariously on top of the cliffside. A boy stood near the edge of the boulder, teetering. He reached out just as the boy slipped, grabbing him by the arm.
Max pulled the boy back from the ledge, turning him around on the spot. The boy stared at him, his eyes wide with terror. Long locks of silver hair stuck to the boy’s forehead, drenched in sweat.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” Max said, just as the boy pulled his arm from his grasp. The boy was about to respond before his eyes went over his uniform. Although he still seemed frightened a look of confusion came over him.
“…are… are you a real Norlander?” the boy asked, his voice trembling. “Isn’t that a navy uniform?”
“I’m not a Norlander, but I am a captain in the Norlander Confederation. My name is Max Ariosto.” The boy stepped back, clearly unconvinced. Max knelt down, removing his pistol from his holster and placing it on the ground.
“I didn’t know they let Tullians in,” the boy said, wiping some of his long silver hair from his eyes and glancing from side to side, as if trying to find a way to escape.
“I’m not a Tullian. Not anymore,” Max said. “Not since I was your age. Look at my face, what do you see?”
The boy stared at him. “That tattoo?”
“It’s a vegr stripe. Norlanders just don’t hand those out you know.”
“I…I don’t believe you. Some of the bad men were Tullians.”
Max was torn between his desire for more information and his desire to get the kid away from the cliffside. “There are other Norlanders with me. My entire crew, actually. Look behind you, you can see my ship.”
The boy half-turned, unwilling to put Max completely out of view. He gazed out towards the village, tears beginning to run down his cheeks, before he spotted the Lightning-hound. He turned back towards Max, a torn expression on his face.
“Can you help my sister?” he asked. “She’s sick.”
“Of course. Just come away from the cliff.” The boy nodded, carefully stepping towards Max. He pushed the bushes aside, allowing the boy a clear path back into the trees. He knelt down and retrieved his pistol before following him.
“What’s your name kid?” Max asked.
“It’s Fell,” he answered. “My sister’s name is Gyda.”
“Where is she?”
“Back in the cave where we were hiding,” Fell answered. The boy’s voice was still shaky, but his posture grew more relaxed as he led them up the hillside.
“Do you mind if I signal my crew?” Max asked, not wanting to frighten the boy by whipping out his pistol and firing a shot without warning. “They can help your sister.”
Fell looked worried but nodded. Max held his pistol over his head and fired off a shot. Birds all across the mountainside rose from the forest, screaming in alarm. Max and the boy continued to wait in awkward silence, but soon enough the sound of footsteps came crashing towards them. Wynn, followed by the marine, revealed themselves.
“You found him,” Wynn said, apparently surprised Max had accomplished the task instead of her.
“I got lucky,” Max answered. Fell grew visibly more relaxed at the sight of two of his own people arriving at last.
“What happened to the village kid?” Wynn asked.
“We don’t have time for that,” Max shook his head. “We need to find his sister.”
“I know the way,” Fell answered. He hurried off through the forest, the adults doing their best to keep pace with him. Soon enough they arrived at a small trail that hung along the edge of the mountain, which was beginning to rise at a very steep angle. Fell had an easier time following the trail, his smaller frame enabling him to pass over rocks that gave the others trouble. The trail curved around the mountainside until it began to cut back in, revealing their destination. A small stream flowed over the mouth of the cave, a constant trickle of water dripping overhead.
Fell entered the cave, and the others followed. It wasn’t very deep, only going a few meters inwards before the ceiling met the floor. Inside a girl, a few years younger than Fell, lay on the floor, her silver hair obscuring her face.
Wynn pushed past the others, having to kneel down in order to fit through the cave. She scooped the girl into her arms and felt her forehead, and then her wrists.
“She has a slight fever, but her pulse is okay. I think she’s in shock,” Wynn revealed.
“Let’s get them both back to the ship,” Max ordered.
“Wait…” Fell began.
“We need to get you both to safety,” Max cut him off. “Are any other survivors on the island?”
“Uh…no. I don’t think so,” Fell answered sadly.
“Alright,” Max began. He knelt down, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Let us take you and your sister back to our ship. We’ve got water, hot food, a nice place to sleep. We can keep you safe.”
Fell glanced at his sister as Wynn attempted to turn around within the tight confines of the cave. “Okay,” he said at last. Max and the marine cleared out of the way, allowing Wynn to exit the cave. Together the group headed down the mountain, Wynn carefully maneuvering her way down the path with the girl in her arms.
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