Young Writers Society

Chapter 8

~1400 words

Fleta and Jay peered at the exotic merchandise on display in the open-air market stalls. Shep had left to secure a passage down the river, and Gilfred and Godfrey had gone to go meet with their “’portent fella.”

Fleta was just holding an enormous ruby to her eye, trying to find a suitable analogy for its size, when a man tapped on her shoulder. The man was draped in a scarlet cape which came down to his calves, and a bright white smile was plastered on his lips. His hair was dark, swept over his eyes.

He spoke in the faint accent that Jay was beginning to associate with Mystorians, “Are you with an old man with a shepherd’s cane? He didn’t give me a name.”

“Yes,” said Fleta, sighing, “he has a thing about names.”

Jay examined a round pendant that hung around the man’s neck. It was a large blue crystal with gold plating in the shape of continents that Jay had never seen before.

“Your presence is requested within the hour upon the great ship Grayhaven,” he said with a slight bow, “You can find it at the west end of the harbor.”

“Thank you sir,” said Fleta. The man walked off with a flutter of his cape.

Jay and Fleta made their way down the winding, cobblestone streets, a fragrance of exotic flowers and spices floated through the air. Most of the houses they passed were white stucco with red tile roofing. They all had dangling flowerpots holding brightly-hued flowers. The doors and windows had iron grating over them. “Thieves,” Fleta said simply when Jay asked why.

They ran into the road trolls again as they neared the port.

“How did your meeting go?” asked Jay.

“As was to be expected,” Gilfred said, his back straightening in what could only be called a prideful manor. “We got “outstanding” marks on everything. Yes, our road may well be the best around.”

“Why did you have to come all the way to Mystor to have your road assessed?” asked Fleta.

The trolls looked aghast. “If it were judged by anyone from around our parts, it’d be dishonest,” said Godfrey nodding meaningfully. “And if it’s dishonest, there’s no point in real rankings. Right now, we’re within the top ten roads in all of Trevon!”

“Of course,” Fleta said, but gave Jay a look that said the whole ranking system was crazy.

“So what’s next for you?” Jay asked. “We’re heading north up to the Scattered islands.”

“Well…” Godfrey turned to Gilfred.

“We do ‘ave some vacation time coming to us!” piped Gilfred.

“Yeah, and I always wanted to see what exactly makes the roads in the Scattered Islands so much better’n ours,” grumbled Godfrey.

“I’m sure we could have a couple extra travelers on the ship,” Fleta started uncertainly.

“We’ll ask Shep,” Jay said, starting off toward the port.

Soon, they reached the ship. It was a flat ship, like a barge, that held a cargo of huge logs. Most of the other ships in harbor were shaped like this, but there were a few of the sailing ships that Jay had expected. Fleta, Jay, and the road trolls climbed up into the small white cabin at the head of the ship. It was the only part of the ship with a roof over it. Shep was talking to the captain, a man with dark skin and a mustache. His eyes lit up when he spotted the group.

“You must be Jay and Fleta! Welcome aboard! And you are?” The man looked questioningly at the trolls.

“Gilfred and Godfrey, the road trolls, if’n it please you,” Gilfred answered.

The captain smiled, “Nice to meet you. The Grayhaven is set to go in a short amount of time. Now we just have to wait for Cabot,” the man said, scanning the port. “Ah, there he is.”

Jay noticed a speck of red racing along the docks. When it reached the ship, he realized it was the man from earlier. He scaled the tall ladder with the grace of a dancer.

“It’s a bit crowded in here, isn’t it?” His words were clipped and brisk, but not unkind. Cabot hung his brilliant red cape on a hook set into the wall, then dashed to oversee the back of the ship.

“We can head out now,” the captain said, adjusting his hat and turning to the wheel of the ship.

Shep motioned everyone to sit down on the wooden bench that rimmed the perimeter of the room. “It’s going to be several hours until we get to the Scattered Islands. Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

The trolls bickered over nothing and mused over the tricks the road trolls in the Scattered Islands might employ to make their roads appear better. Fleta braided and unbraided her hair over and over again. The captain seemed unaware that he was whistling a tune.

He also seemed unaware of the sheep that had—of course—followed Shep into the cabin. The small, yellowish one, Tart, was lounging on a part of unused bench near the door. It watched the room warily, as if it was afraid that someone was going to sit on it at any time. Jay realized that it must be hard to be invisible. The sheep were good at getting out of people’s way, but there was bound to be a few scary moments when they were cornered. The other three sheep had surrounded Shep, who was giving them all pats on the head absently. He was staring at the sky like he was somewhere far away.

Jay looked out the cabin to the front of the boat, the end that was carrying all the tree trunk logs. He watched, fascinated, as Cabot raced around, telling workers what to do. With no sail, Jay didn’t know what exactly all the workers had to work at. When he grew tired of watching all the people running around at work, Jay lay back his head and fell asleep, lulled by the ship’s rocking and Shep’s quiet song.

Gliding down the river, bright,

Fish all flash in the sunlight.

Feel the water churn below,

Feel the ripples, tides, and flow.

I have not a house or home,

When I die, my soul will roam.

When I die my soul will stay,

Upon the rivers, and the bays.

When he awoke, he knew why the roads of the Scattered Islands got such high scores. It wasn’t superior management; as the trolls said, their road’s quality was ten times better than the roads on the Scattered Islands. Jay supposed that whoever had judged the island’s roads was too entranced by the breath-taking beauty of the island to notice the poor roads. The island was the most beautiful thing that Jay had ever set eyes on.

It was as if he had never seen true colors before. The green of the prevalent flora was greener than all the grass in spring. Greener than the brightest emerald. The flowers were bright as if they were glowing all on their own, in bright pinks and oranges, and all with such geometric petals. The street had a solitate feel to it, multicolored banners hanging from the rooftops. Even the people seemed colorful. Their accents were thicker than the people of Mystor, but it had the same rolling lilt to the end of words, and a musical structure to their sentences. Words could not do the place justice, nor could a thousand pictures, for pictures could never capture the sounds and smells of the place.

Jay was floored by this beauty, as was Fleta, whose jaw was hanging open slightly. Shep drew up behind them, a small smile playing around his eyes. “It’s pretty amazing the first time you see it. It doesn’t help that it’s sunset. I’ll be in the inn over that way,” he pointed to a stone building near the shore. “I don’t expect you to be there right away. It takes a while to soak in the spectacle.” Shep walked off, followed closely by the road trolls who were still griping about how unfair it was that “the Scattered Islands only got a better score because it’s drop-dead gorgeous.”

When he had gone from sight—not that Shep or Fleta were looking—another figure appeared behind them. This shadow ran something powerful under their noses and all the beauty in front of Jay faded to black. He dimly realized he was being dragged somewhere.