By: Chryseas Posted on: May 02, 2010
Looking down at my arm, I check that my chameleon tattoo is activated. The
reflection in the glittering waters at the harbour's edge is unfamiliar and
distorted. The image smirks as my lips twist into the same visage. I keep myself
hidden well in the little bit of shadows I can find using all my guile and
skill. My companion next to me is shrouded, his Mhun features hidden by years of
study in subterfuge.
Our quarry crests the horizon, the familiar and distant hippocampus figurehead
barely distinguishable. I nod to my companion and I can smell the venom as he
readies his fangs. I ready my blade, Striking Talon, and position the scabbard.
Checking my basic tattoos again, moss, boar, and shield; I nod to myself.
I give a single sharp seagull cry, indicating the ship is within sights. Two
would tell the others in the party that the ship was within docking distance and
a falcon's call meant time to strike. I remember when those calls use to mean
something else for me. Father was an amazing Runewarden, but he was always a
seafarer at heart. As a Nerai he worshipped and revered those unforgiving and
varied waters more than life itself.
His voice echoes into my childhood as we stood on a similar harbour port,
staring out at the setting sun. 'If ever I die at sea, that is all I ask of this
life. There would be no greater homage for my body to pay than to join Father in
His Embrace.'
I grumble to myself not issuing a sound from my throat. An old wound, yet fresh
enough to give me the drive I needed today. To think I thought he loved me and
wanted me by his side to learn all he knew. I remember the day he became almost
godlike in my eyes and beyond reproach. Mother said we were going to live far
away and have a better life where I could flourish and reach my full potential.
She packed a couple of backpacks and a small kitbag for me. It was a flurry of
downy grey feathers and commotion as mother's wings twitched quickly.
"We must hurry, my son, my wondrous Arnav, before your father returns. I will
take you to my home of Hashan. You'll have every opportunity for success, far
from this dreary, wet Isle." Mother cooed softly to me as she lifted me in her
arms and held me tightly. I was only a bare six years old, but I knew something
was wrong.
The door in my memory of that childhood home slammed open and father's fierce
Rajamalan silhouette burst into view. "Where are you going with MY son?"
Father's friend and first mate, Eskil, stood to the side with his stout dwarven
arms crossed and peering about.
"Home, Caelos. Arnav may be Rajamalan like you but his heart beats true to Lord
Vastar. He needs room to grow away from this stagnant Isle. I refuse to let him
be cast adrift upon the seas." Mother's voice was so angry and resolute. I
remember cringing into her skirts, wishing the bad feelings would just go away.
"I refuse to let him leave with you. Arnav is the greatest treasure in my life,
I won't let you pilfer him away while my back is turned." Father nodded to
Eskil, "Eskil, my son."
Eskil nodded and picked up the young Arnav, taking him outside. 'I learned to
tie my first nautical knots that day...' Tail lashing in the present, brushing
against some cargo crates on the pier, Arnav watched the ship pull further into
view. The sails were full making use of the abundant breeze.
My other memories of that day are bleak, filled with alot of yelling and crying.
Mother gave me a journal to keep and kissed me on the cheek. As deeply abandoned
I felt was how much my father elevated in my heart and mind. Father wanted me
even if mother left. Before I learned to read, life was easy. Days, weeks,
months passed, but I only counted my life from one gift to another that father
would return home with.
A wax tablet so I could practice my letters on, an exotic pouch of woven
seagrass, a military style pack, and delicious deer jerky that stung my eyes
were some of my more cherished and remembered gifts. Father always brought me
one new thing. Once, he even thought it might help if I had a statue of his
likeness from Lothos. That was his response to my fears, 'Father I'm afraid I
won't remember your face when next I see you.' He chuckled softly, thinking me a
child still at thirteen and returned with this gift a month later. The answer to
any of life's problems was an exotic present to distract and entertain a young
mind.
Years later, prompted by other disappointments involving missed birthdays and
important events in my life, I confronted my father in a tentative way. I was
anxious and worried, feeling like he might hurt me again by his absence. But he
was my father he loved me.
"Father, my seventeenth birthday is soon, if you leave now you'll miss it. It's
supposed to be a special birthday of remembrance to prepare me for my trials in
the Flame. I don't want to ever forget you..." My voice echoes anguished words
from the past in my mind.
"Arnav, I won't miss it I promise! I just cannot miss this opportunity; the fish
are out in force. You know all my sea voyages are for you. We have a good life
here in New Hope, right? The trades I make and the fish we catch all contribute
to our family. Once I've earned enough, we will settle down. I should have
enough by the time you enter the Flame to own my own ship then I'll train you to
be a knightly Runewarden as well as a Seafaring Captain. You and Eskil will
Captain my fleet of ships some day." Father beamed with pride, giving off his
usual air of self-confidence and certainty. He always knew the right things to
say and do. Even at sixteen my heart refused to let go of my father's
divine-like aura my mind perceived.
Birthday number seventeen came and went. The day was spent with me eagerly
sitting by the harbour, waiting for his ship to return, much as I'm doing now
though with a much different heart. I slept amid some crates and awoke to find
the local fishing dog curled up next to me. No sign of father or his ship. I
trudged home, taking my anger out on all his gifts to me. I remember screaming
to the void, "Gifts DO NOT fill an EMPTY heart!!!"
Eventually, my fury knocked something loose, an old journal I'd forgotten. My
mother's handwriting bloomed into view as I turned the cover. It was an intimate
discussion of a mother to her son and I read it slowly, drinking in her words
for an entire day. I fell asleep with the book, then woke up to turn the last
page as dawn's light cascaded across my face. It was directions to her new home.
I packed light, taking with me a handful of gold and my mother's journal. I left
a note for my father and departed from my childhood home. Eskil stood at the
docks helping my father as they unloaded. Our eyes met and I gave him a sullen
glare. I didn't want to have anything to do with the people or things that kept
me from my father.
Shielding my eyes from the sun, I watch in the present as my father's ship draws
near. I cry out the two calls of a seagull and could feel the air tense about
me. The sea and that ship, father's flagship now for his fleet of merchant
vessels, stole half my life and all of my youth. I will reclaim my lost years
back again.
Allowing myself to wade in my memories, I think back to when I met my mother
again. She was patient and kind, buying me a journal so I could properly record
my thoughts and life for the Flame Trial. Many of my memories, even now, began
with that journal. It was also the first and only thing that greeted me upon
returning from the Flame as is the custom.
The first entry of my journal bid me to seek out my father before reading
further. I had written that it was important to experience this pain again and
to be ready for anything. There weren't many details on that first page except a
self-apology and I set out with determination. Who wouldn't want to meet their
own father?
"Caelos? Caelos Caspron? I... Well, apparently, I'm your son." I spoke the words
with trepidation back then, how little I knew.
"Who's that?" The grizzled old sailor looked me up and down. We looked so much
alike. Black Rajamalan fur and the same body build, though I was the leaner for
my youth. "Arnav?" His voice said in a wistful whisper. "No. I have no son."
"But. But you called me by name!"
"No son of mine would have left as he did. I gave you -everything-. Gifts from
overseas, exotic food to dine on and a solid, stable home. You wanted for
nothing!" His throat growled low, his arms crossing over his chest defensively.
"You come to my docks obviously through with your Flame Trial. Well, LOOK, LOOK
at my ship. Look what you left behind and spit on as you snuck out my door."
In the middle of his tirade, the raw emotion of that last day hit me full force.
I could not recall where my words came from but they issued from me like a
deluge, "Gifts do NOT replace an empty heart and cold hearth!!"
Caelos was obviously taken aback; he uncrossed his arms and gave me a bewildered
look. "You were my world. I did everything for -you-."
"You did it for yourself and your own vanity. Your Lord Neraeos should be proud.
Gracing His seas as often as you do." My mouth was a sneer by this point and I
turned to leave.
Eskil stomped in front of me, peering at me unscrupulously and thumbing the
dagger on his belt loop. "Stop bothering your father. You were an ungrateful cub
from the start, carrying on like this. Take your father home, he's been through
a rough journey."
I scoffed in his face and turned to my father with a growl, "Tell your bodyguard
to watch his back, the next time he thumbs that dagger at me I'll be sure to
slice his hand off." I stepped aside facing away from them both and began my new
life. I could not imagine how threatening me would have ingratiated me back into
my father's home, but I was no longer the same cub I was in my youth.
Reading the remainder of the journal at a quiet table in the Crystal Leaf Inn, I
made some decisions about my life. I remember journeying to Delos, becoming a
Blademaster and seeking out my mother once again as I studied my arts. She
taught me all she knew and showed me the path to Lord Vastar. My mother knew
before I did, I've felt a sense of completion in my soul ever since taking that
step.
My friend beside me gives out his falcon call, stirring my thoughts back to the
present. I watch as my father's ship manoeuvres into port. I creep closer from
shadow to shadow. I call out to my raiding party, "The Captain is mine!"
The plank lowers as I hear my father's voice boom from aboard the ship. My party
members descend upon the initial crewmembers that disembark, striking with
deadly force. I stay hidden, nodding to my friend to join the fight; I'll be
fine by myself.
Eskil predictably runs into the fray first, steps ahead of my father and I
intercept the burly sailor. Drawing my blade and slashing him across the back, I
force Eskil to turn and seek me in the shadows. His monk-trained fists breach my
defense and land blows on my arms and chest, but no quicker do I strike him at
the knees sending him sprawling. As he attempts to stand, I hamstring him and
turn a deadly gaze upon him, clenching my fists.
Leaping forward with speed bourn from months of training, I strike Eskil in the
chest, forcing his heart to fluctuate. I grin up at my father, who was still
letting his friend do the dirty work and waiting on the plank. Touching my
chameleon tattoo I return to my own identity and thrust a penetrating strike to
Eskil's jugular. My mouth is a self-satisfying sneer as I watch the light leave
his eyes recognizing me at the very end.
My father gives a resonant bellow, working up a fury, as he wrinkles his
pristine white Captain's outfit. Unsheathing his two broadswords and gripping
them tightly he launches at me, poised for a double slash across my body. I
touch my shield tattoo, watching my father slam against it harmlessly. Before he
can react further I take an unarmed strike at his hands, watching as he releases
his broadswords from numbed fingers. I draw Striking Talon and slash my father
across the chest twice, an "X" over his heart.
As the dark Rajamala before me tries to clot his profusely bleeding wounds, I
reach out striking him at the neck then his stomach. I smile viciously observing
his muscles locking up and meeting his eye as he realizes he cannot even stomach
eating the bloodroot to save him. I lean in close, almost as if embracing my
father after all this time.
I tsk at my father's ineptitudes. "You're rusty old man. Not even a pipe on your
person I bet. Too much sailing, fishing, and carousing, not enough training."
I whisper intimately in his ear, "Now what shall I do? For once, it is I who has
the power over you... to grant or deny you what you wish and want the most. What
do you wish... father?" My words echo softly to him like a lover, but imbued
with a vengeful loathing from years of neglect. The raid battles on around us,
but I know my combatants, we will win and they will get their spoils as I get
mine.
My father's throaty voice pleads, "I wish... for life... my son... my treasured
Arnav."
Smirking at him I reply, "Oh. NOW I am once again treasured? I will grant you
your wish, but not in the way you imagine. I remember your words from my youth,
I told myself in my journal to memorize them well for this day."
With the strength from an entire childhood of frustration, I push my father's
paralysed form over the edge of the docks. His body splashes in the salty waters
below and I watch him sink into its depths.
"I did not kill you, so you are alive, father. But I granted your wish; you are
now in His Embrace as you've always wanted. The seas took you from me and now
they can keep you."