Young Writers Society

The Seven Masks of Fate

Introduction

This land has long lacked the caresses of magyk. A silence suspends above the treetops, above the mountains, and above the world of Ekkor-rune, holding its breath until its voice can escalate into song once more. However, that ancient melody is gone now, and the silence of the world continues as it has for thousands of years. Ekkor-rune has almost forgotten the sweet refrains magyk once bestowed upon the land. So the world waits. Just as you have waited for so long now, sylris.

I understand Men well enough to know that you all anticipate different things: love, a better future, even death. So who are you? What do you wait for? *chuckles darkly* It could be that perhaps you do not even know the answers to my questions, and that you still require time to discover the solutions of yourself. Ah, but who am I to speak of understanding oneself? After all, I hardly remember what I am anymore. Hundreds of centuries of living have that effect, I’m afraid. Although what I do know of myself is that I am powerful. I am dark. I am a puppet master. And most of all, I am a monster. Just like you, sylris. *smiles* Allow me to introduce myself as Dul’edai, and it is time for Men to play my games again.

So. . . What In the World Is Happening?



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---Stormsie

Viris Ladrian|Upper deck, then captain’s quarters

“The winds have returned!”

Viris lifts her head from her book to study the crew of the Syrlis. She smiles softly. The sailors scramble about skillfully over plank and rigging while their strange cloaks flit about in the sudden gust from the west, the men all echoing back their replies in foreign tongues.

“Läs vah-ele welsav!”

“Drûk!”

“Grab the ropes!”

They had floated idly for almost a week in these green waters, waiting for any breeze to tug at the great silver sails now whooshing above Viris’s head. The stale, salty air had reminded the girl of her coastal home at the Ladrian Keep, although this relief of western winds are a welcoming reprieve. Viris returns to her novel as the exotic seamen continue to shout orders across the deck.

A sudden husky voice interrupts her thoughts about the large book resting across her lap. “‘Tale my feet father than I could ever wander.’” The voice pauses, struggling to read the next few lines on the page.

Viris turns around on the barrel she had claimed as a chair and is greeted with the face of a smiling young man. He looms over her shoulder, trying to read aloud more of the inky phrases of the page. “The poem says, ‘Take my feet farther than I could ever wander’, Ambrose.” Viris huffs in pretended annoyance at Ambrose’s attempts.

“Apologies, my lady,” the charming thief responds with a mocking bow, his hair glistening under the afternoon’s sun.


Another draft of ocean breeze billows about the ship, and Viris has to quickly grip her book as the pages turn wildly. Facing the upper deck again and putting Ambrose at her back, she notices the lithe figure of Marta winding up ropes by a mass of nets. Viris shuts her book in a definite snap as if to physically close the conversation between her and Ambrose.

“Excuse me, Ambrose, but I require a word with Marta.” The girl gently slides off the barrel. Without awaiting a response from the man, she tucks the leather novel beneath her arm, lifts her skirts to avoid dragging them across the ship deck, and gracefully floats away from Ambrose. Viris hears him laugh slightly, but she continues on her trek to reach Marta.

Turquoise birds circle overhead, screeching and casting massive shadows against the sails whipping above Viris. She pauses for a moment to dreamily watch the winged creatures at their play. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grip her arms and wrench her forwards. Viris stumbles over her skirts as she is tugged ahead quickly, accidentally dropping her book in the process.

“Oi!”

“Watch it!”

Dazed, Viris glances up to find Marta had been the one to pull her forwards. To the left, two sailors carrying a strange wooden contraption were glaring down at her.

“Watch where yer standing, girl,” the larger crewman holding the wood equipment barks. They shift the contraption to their other shoulder, both of the sailors still eyeing Viris.

She blushes nervously under the stare and replies, “I apologize, sirs.”

The two crewmen shake their heads and mumble in another language before pushing past the women in their way.

Marta laughs gently then rescues Viris’s novel from the planks. “Here, dear.” Viris hugs the book to her chest and bashfully meets Marta’s eyes. “Are you alright?” the older girl asks in that sisterly manner of hers.

Viris nods. “I sincerely thank you for pulling me out of the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Marta rolls up her sleeves and glances around. “I have to return to the rigging, but perhaps you should rest inside before we arrive on the Isles. It’s not much longer ‘til we strike land.” The female sailor smiles reassuringly, although Viris understood the meaning of her words.

I am not fitted to this lifestyle, you mean, she thinks. A noble woman is not made to waltz the decks of ships. And yet here I am.

Instead of voicing her thoughts, however, Viris Ladrian nods in acquiesce, like she always does.



Viris crosses the doorframe of the captain’s quarters, her tentative steps clicking along the floorboards. “Captain Toulë?”

The captain of the Syrlis looks up from his writings at the sweet sound of Viris’s voice. The ship rocks unsteadily for a moment, almost as unsteadily as the beating of the girl’s heart.

“Ah, Lady Ladrian,” the man begins in a heavy accent. “A pleasure to gaze upon your features, as always.” Captain Toulë drops his quill into a glass jar atop his desk then pushes his chair away from the table. Sunlight streams in from the large colored window beside the desk, accenting every detail of the man’s face as he rises from his chair. Standing, the captain is a formidable figure: dark hair, dark skin, an imposing height, sharp eyes, and colorful garments. He never fails to frighten Viris, although most things have a tendency to frighten Viris.

The captain waves a hand. “If you would be so kind, shut ze door.”

Viris steals a deep breath and softly closes the door. When she turns back around, Toulë is towering above her small frame. His hand reaches out to caress her locks of hair, and Viris shudders, not for the first time wishing she had enough courage to speak her mind.

“We have one more day until we arrive at ze Isles… You are so beautiful, rylsi,” he murmurs as he pulls Viris against his strong chest, oblivious to her silent protests. “Qathe drav drûk, rylsi.” The captain wraps his arms around the girl. “I love you.”

One day more of this torture, she thinks. Viris squeezes her eyes shut, meekly accepting his embrace. I hate you. “I love you.”

Someone help me.

Tec | On side of ship|

So this is a ship, eh? Pretty cool. I didn't come onto here for anything special, just the ride. The cool sea breeze whipping through me. Enchanting evenings wiled away with ale for company, and perhaps a girl. That's the life!

I will get to that once I stop vomiting over the edge. Something I wasn't expecting--and something I wish would stop--is the constant rocking. That swaying motion that just makes my stomach churn.

No matter what people say, tasting your meals twice is a bad idea.

.....................................................................

That was a week ago. Yeah, I pretty much try to forget that, but the foul taste in the back of my mouth demands to be remembered. For a while, I tried to make the crew feel my pain too, but they weren't sympathetic. At least they gave me this bucket.

Being on the ship is actually quite annoying. They tell me that I am an unimportant passenger. Nothing I told them, or the threats I gave them(funny, they laughed), convinced them that I was an important person on the mainland.

Perhaps it was the scraggly beard that gave it away.

So now they have me occupying this comfy place on the deck for a bed. Hard, scratchy. And they didn't even give me a pillow.

The company isn't much better. There aren't any prospective entrepreneurs on this little boat. Every crew member I approached, even the captain, laughed when I showed them my marvelous invention, the cap. I even turned it around backwards which I think will become the ultimate style. I think I am wasting my breath with these people. They don't know what being cool is.

And the only other company here are the passengers. So far I have seen a thief, who I gave a particularly violent glare at. He didn't approach me, but I was concerned for my hat. Don't want him to take it.

And there is a girl here. Actually, quite a few. The one I see most sits close to me now, book on her lap. I think about going over to her and trying to talk, but I see her lips moving, reciting poetry... I could talk to her, but not with her swooning from the poetry or quoting some of it to me.

I was going to go over there anyway, but then that thief went over. That guy scares me.

So here I am, alone again. Except this time I am in the middle of the sea, surrounded by water on all sides. Great choice, Tec.

Arza Sii-qar - Relating Intelligence

Imagine my relief when the Syrlis finally crossed into a new land where magyk plentiful. Two months with having to deal with these idiots and I was ready to return to the island so I can go back to my daily routine. The familiar worth of fire had soon filled me and even the coldest nights felt like a cool breeze thanks to it. The captain said one more day and we would finally arrive at the isles I wondered if Dul'edai knows I've returned I haven't been in mental contact with him yet.

"You called my dear?" I heard.

"Dul'edai, I had not expected you to chim in so suddenly," I thought.

"Dear, my name alone will get my attention if you wanted to do so just say so. But enough idle chatter report on everyone you've met aboard your cruise," he said.

"A thief named Tec he has bad lungs, I've seen him nab a few things around the ship and he managed to get one of my swords. It took me time to get it back but his lungs eventually came in and stopped him. He also causes problems for other peoples has no regard for the rules from what I hear from the crew members. He's caused a lot of problems on this ship during our sea trip better keep an eye on him when we land," I thought.

"I see, I might just have a puzzle for him to deal with, the others?" Dul'edai asked.

I walk my way and sit on the hay that was stored at the very bottom of the ship, it wasn't that bad of a place though it did smell like manure down here. I cross my legs and begin to go over all the mental notes I made throughout the last two months.

"Another, a noble girl named Viris Ladrian, I believe she paid her way onto the ship. From what the crewmen tel me she's on the run from some arranged marriage, others tell me she's also quite intelligent more so than your average noble woman."

"Interesting, her running from this marriage could also indicate a strong will. I will have to look into her when the ship lands." he said.

"Then there's the second noble girl she has three books on her which I snuck into her quarters to take a look at. Three books of Ekkorian poetry and a photograph of a man who I didn't recognize, I talked to the crewmen about her and her name is Jennah Roth," I said laying down in the hay.

"Jennah Roth? she could probably give me a run for my money in a game of chess," he said.

"I assume you know her?" I asked.

"Yes, it's hard not to does she have an guards with her?" he said.

"Not that I've seen," I simply answered.

"Good, if she tries anything in the future you could dispatch her with ease, next?"

The conversation continued like this trading all the information I collected from the crewmen and my own observations. From Eliezer Aleshire protecting a spoiled employer named Torwin Lancaster to Laura's prideful attitude to Marta's reason for boarding that I've heard from the crewmen.

"This is all very interesting you've done well in these two months of being away from the island," he said.

"Your welcome, just make sure I have a bath drawn for me, I probably will smell like a barnyard once we reach the island."

Ambrose "Amp" Manning - Deck of the ship

Amp wished he could read, more than anything. He had been hanging over Viris's shoulder every time she opened a book in the hopes he would be able to pick something up. She could never understand what it was like, though, the feeling of wanting just to read even the most boring of books with a desperate hopelessness. A noble woman could learn and read to her hearts desire, while Amp couldn't even afford the cover.

He smiled at her as she walked away. She was generally a sweet, quiet girl. It was really hard to place her in a category, because she didn't say much and neither did her body language. It was odd, mostly because Amp was pretty good at reading people.

He remembered when he was young and his mother would read with him. Back when they would sit and spin wild stories together for hours and hours, not a care in the world. She had taught him a little, but Amp had been barely eight years old when she was taken from him. He rubbed his chest without thinking, hoping that the heaviness and weight he now felt would be lifted away.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he glanced over his shoulder in time to see a young man glaring at him. Actually, glaring wasn't even the right word. Pure contempt and hatred seemed to be emanating from him. Amp smiled a little. It wouldn't be the first nor would it be the last time that someone looked at him that way.

Ambrose bowed deeply to the man who he was fairly certain was called Tec. The bow wasn't just a head bob, no that wouldn't be nearly dramatic enough, but instead he shifted one leg behind him and lowered the entire half of his upper half of his body towards the floor. He then moved his right arm simultaneously, throwing his shabby cloak behind him while his left hand did a small flourish until he finally rested it on his stomach. This wasn't just any bow, in fact this was the bow that you gave only to nobles and kings. Amp could hardly contain his laughter as he caught a glimpse of the young man.

Amp looked up at the young man again, still bowing, grinning wildly at him. He raised one eyebrow, finally lifting himself out of his elegant bow and waggled his fingers at him. He turned away from Tec and headed towards the small area of the ship only he had discovered.

Ambrose checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching and quickly slipped between two barrels. He moved the smaller one, just behind the big ones he hid behind, aside and smiled as a small trap door showed beneath. More so out of habit, he quickly looked over his shoulder again, unlatched the door and headed beneath the deck.

It smelled vaguely of manure and hot copper, a smell that made him wrinkle his nose a bit, but behind that was a store of food. Going hungry for so long had made Ambrose's appetite insatiable now that he didn't have to wonder when his next meal would be. He'd been sneaking down here since the first day on this ship with no one the wiser.

He grabbed a stale loaf of bread and lounged on a stack of surprisingly comfortable potatoes. He grabbed a hard covered book from one of the many pockets stitched into his second-hand cloak. When he bought this cloak from the shop, right before getting on the ship, he had specifically asked the tailor to make as many pockets as he possible could on the inside. He'd payed for it to, giving the man his last penny, but it was well worth it.

He couldn't remember whose book he had stolen either, it had honestly surprised even him when he walked away and felt the spine of the book jab him in the side. Amp smiled a little to himself as he remembered the days on the streets. In the city, it hadn't been nearly as easy to steal from the many shop owners who specifically kept an eye out for starving homeless children. He'd gotten more beatings than he cared to remember from getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. As harsh as it sounds, Amp was grateful for it. It made him quick, cunning, and talented when it came to stealing.

He grimaced slightly at how easy it was to steal from these people. These were noble men and women, mostly, and they weren't as wary as those in the city. He did plan to return the book though, and hopefully before it was missed. Well, eventually anyway.

Amp pushed his guilt aside and propped the book open on his knee, taking a big bite out of the loaf of bread. This was the perfect way to spend his last day on this ship and he wouldn't let anything ruin it.

The sun and the waves were a never ending torture, tossing and beating, thrashing and clamping down, squeezing Eliezer's stomach with pinching fingers. Sweat trickled down his spine and harvested in clumps in his hair, making him look rabid. His eyes were feverishly bright under the persistent brightness of the sky, and being two weeks since he was last able to grab a razor from one of the crewmen a fine curling of hair grew from his cheeks to his neck in a bristling bush of orange fire. His clothes were beginning to fray rather noticeably, and his shirts were no longer white but the color of dishwater. Eliezer's face, slightly sunburnt under his eyes, was pale and sickly, and his expression instantly discouraged casual conversation.

"First time on the sea, ja?" A crewman had said to him on the third day of the voyage with a barking laugh. "The Mother Sea doesn't take kind to land guppies."

"Well, I don't take kind to the Mother Sea, either." He had replied. The crewman, which he later found out was named Ephraim, had been rather surprised to find out that they spoke the same mother language. Ephraim had instantly called over three others, which were all natives of his family's home island, and insisted on talking to Eliezer in length. Apparently word of him had gotten out amongst the crew and now whenever he walked onto the deck he was greeted with guppy talún, which meant land guppy.

He gripped the edge of the ship as an unexpected wave whipped it nearly parallel, swallowing bile. He gulped in air when the Sylris finally righted itself after a three moment pause, and when he finally lifted his head he saw that the crew hadn't halted in its labyrinth of ropes and shouting. He was dumbfounded by these seamen's inability to falter at the hands of such an unpredictable body of water.

"Isn't it beautiful, Eli?" Torwin Lancaster said next to him, gazing at the churning waves.

"No. And don't call me that." Eliezer shifted slightly away from the young lord, extremely irritated that Torwin wasn't near as sick as he was. Torwin had been bedridden the first day at sea, but since then he has been doggedly following Eliezer around, talking about beauty and adventure and the grit of the sea and other such nonsense. Eliezer only wished he had the luxury of lying down when he needed to, but instead he had to make sure Torwin didn't get himself killed. The boy had a habit of offending the crewmen on a day to day basis, and the last time the man he had disturbed had pulled a knife on him. Luckily Eliezer had been looking for Torwin at that time, as Torwin also liked to run off, and heard a shout and had quickly went to calm the situation down. Torwin often got dirty looks and rough elbows, but he didn't seem to notice that it was personal.

Torwin sighed. "Can you believe that within a few days there will be land right over there?" He pointed to the horizon, the opposite direction that the land would be. Eliezer didn't bother to correct him. "So what's an island like? Will there be savages? Will we see monkeys? Will there be-" he paused and said in a hush, "women?"

It was questions like that would often got him in trouble. Eliezer looked down upon the boy in disbelief, and gauging that he's actually serious, Eliezer spoke, reigning in his temper with quick hands. "Not every islander is a savage, and not every island has monkeys. I have no idea what this island would be like, as I've never been to one myself. And yes, wherever there is people there will most likely be women, though probably not in the way you think."

Torwin seemed to absorb his words and turned his face back to the sea, rolling over this new information as a child might do so seriously. Eliezer turned away also, mostly because his afternoon ration was crawling up his throat. A distance away the silhouette of a seagull turned and coasted on the wind, eyeing the small dot that was the Sylris. With sudden movement it flapped its wings and pivoted back around, calling to its brothers, who cruised over a stretch of land that rose out of the vicious water like a sudden jabbing knuckle.

Tec | On Ship |

“What’s that?” I look down the contoured lines of the ship and point out a stick, floating on the surface of the sea.

“It’s a stick.”

“But doesn’t the stick look special?”

“No, it’s a stick.”

“But look at the edges, that single leaf clinging the branch, refusing to let go. There is something unique about it. Something that makes it special.”

“Tec, it’s a stick.”

“Fine, if you want to have that way. I still think that--”

“It’s a stick.”

I would have turned my back to who I was talking to, and refused to acknowledge them. Their personality is so boring. When I introduce interesting topics that to stimulat the conversation--like the stick--I merely get shoved away.

But since I am talking to myself, it is extremely difficult. If there is someone else to talk to, I would do so. But the only thing that I can talk to are the occasional sea bird and the rats. The rats that scurry about everywhere, little bits of food in their mouths. And they told me that I would be whipped if I stole bread. Perhaps I should inform them that we have a thief on board.

But they don’t do anything about the real thief—who always holds some trinket or bit of food that he swipes. He isn't thrown in jail or punished in the slightest. If consequences are that slight, perhaps it's not such a big deal? Makes me want to look into burglary.

If only it looked easier. The way that guy--Ambrose--does it, the slyness of his character--but still retaining the dignity that men of his "supposed" status entail.
I am almost glad to not have a status in society. To not be looked upon for guidance. To not be looked up at as a good example. Even thieves were emulated in the criminal world! Their ways followed by others with looks of awe. Look how quiet he can walk! or That thief investigated his own robbery!

But not me.

Where am I popular? No-where save for the empty bridges. And even the air seems to ridicule me. To tell me that I am not good enough for anything. Sometimes--most of the time--I believe the air. Yes, I am a loser.

The thing is, I happen to be really good at it.

Marta

It was a cool evening, the perfect weather for smooth sailing. All around them was ocean, especially still on this particular evening. She stared out into the horizon, into the blue, quiet water; it was both beautiful and frightening. Beautiful because the ocean, now, as Marta saw it, was the way it always had been and always would be. Frightening because of how isolated they were, because if something happened to them now, there would be no one or nothing to save anyone aboard from certain death. Stop, Marta thought. You're not going to die. Peyton and Beatrice are counting on you. She ached to think of them now and how they might be getting on. Surely Peyton was smart enough think of something that they could do until she returned. Or better yet, if she could find a way to send her money to them. Stop worrying. You'll think of something. You and your sisters are going to be just fine..

On the deck of the boat, several passengers lounged and socialized, enjoying the cool breeze and taking in the view. Marta barely paid them any mind. They had nothing to worry about. They didn't know what it was like to scrape by.

Out of the corner of her eye, Marta saw a girl who evidently wasn't looking where she was going and was a tad bit too close to the edge. Crewmen were walking around everywhere moving equipment, so she instinctively pulled her away so she wouldn't be hit. A book she was carrying dropped, so Marta bent down and gave it back to her.

"I sincerely thank you for pulling me out of the way," the girl said.

"Don't mention it," Marta said. She bade the girl to get some rest so she could back to work and stay out of the way of other crew members. It was funny. She had to be Peyton's age, but she was so innocent, so childlike. She took a deep breath. This was going to be part of the job, dealing with naïve rich people. But she had to remember the money that this would pay, the better life for her and her sisters would give her, and she knew she could never lose sight of that.

She sighed and continued to work, feeling utterly alone and homesick.

Chase

He watched from his station at the bow, mesmerized as the wooden front of the boat sliced through the waves like a knife through hot butter. The waves protested with big white gurgling foam, but the Sylris paid no heed and moved one.

Chase felt the gentle rock of the deck beneath his feet. Although the first week had been tedious and hard on him, he overcame his seasickness. After that week he had been all over the ship. No one usually noticed him, partly because of his small figure, but more importantly because of his stealth. He had sneaked into the hold where the goods were held, helping himself to a hefty necklace he had found, but besides that he had refrained from pilfering the crew or passengers.

Now he waited for landing. The crew had been talking about it all day. Chase was ready to go look for the gold that legends told. There was, of course, the tales of magic and danger, and ordinarily chase wouldn't have taken this risk, but for his sister's sake he decided it was worth it. And the fact that the army in his home city weren't too happy at him and his escapades had driven what little doubt he might have still had, clear out of his mind.

He watched as another girl stood against the side of the ship, apparently content to just watch the stars and the calm sea. He thought about going over to her and perhaps striking up a conversation. so far this journey he had only talked when necessary. But there was something about the girl that said, "go talk to her."

So he hopped away from the bow and made his silently over to her. She turned as he approached and smiled. He waved shyly back at her.