Only a BoyA Chapter by KackerlackaRevised Chapt. 1 for book The Return Introduction to the world, or rather, island Raz is living on.The sun blazed high above the island village of Esterview,
throngs sea birds soaring above as a warm wind blew in from the east. Bright azure water glittered in the sun,
waves gently lapping at the wharfs of the small port. Docked in the harbor was a lone wooden
vessel, its three tall masts gently swaying to and fro as the ocean waves beat
against the ship’s hull. Sailors could
be seen carrying heavy crates on and off deck.
These sailors had clearly been weeks at sea, their drab garments soiled
and stained, thick with the smell of sweat and ocean salt. Lying adjacent to the harbor was
Esterview’s only square, lined with well stocked stalls, vendors selling goods
to both sailors and villagers alike. The
stalls were covered with colored canvases that gave the market a bright and
festive appearance. Shuffling villagers
seemed to sort themselves between rich and poor as each attended to their own
needs. The finely clothed, boasting
flamboyant colors of red, yellow and green, would flock to stalls bearing
silver and gold trinkets from the mainland while drab fishermen and farmers
shuffled about grabbing the bare necessities. Amongst all the crowd was Raz,
strolling around with his head down, unnoticed by most as they went about their
business. Only on occasion would someone
single him out in the crowd, a sort of disgusted expression spreading across
their faces with whispers of, “Grey-skin.” Ignoring such comments, Raz
moved on down his path, ducking under the stinking sailors and side stepping
around the frenzy rich women as a vendor revealed some rare silver pieces from
the mainland. Raz wasn’t interested in
any of that. His eyes were set upon the
fruit stand just ahead. From here he could see a boulder of a man sitting on a stool
that was on the verge of snapping. His
multiple chins were resting upon his expansive gut, his squat eyes closed and a
long and boisterous snore escaped from his mouth. While the oaf dozed, Raz witnessed more than
one thieving fellow snatch an orange, apple or any other fruit from the stand
as they passed by. The fat vendor
should’ve known better. Raz fell in line with a
shuffling group of villagers eyeing the stalls as they meandered on by. The less conspicuous he could be, the
better. Just because several others were
doing the same didn’t mean the villagers would let some grey-skin get away with
it. Reaching over, Raz grabbed a
bright red apple, feeling its smooth, perfect skin upon his palm. Suddenly a bell chimed from behind him, a
booming voice shouting out over the hum of the crowd. “Hear ye Hear
ye, more border disputes have risen between the kingdom and the Dresni-“ Raz ignored the rest, he didn’t
care what the town crier had to say.
Flicking his gaze towards the vendor, he found himself looking right
into the man’s sleepy but open eyes. Raz
had hardly pulled away the apple before the fat man had fully realized what was
happening and jolted up from his chair, hurling insults and lumbering towards
Raz. “Why you lil ashen s**t! What
are you doing with that, eh?!” he yelled, veins popping out on his on his
hairless scalp. Raz ran for it, not bothering to
give an answer, gripping the apple in his grey hand. It would be easy for him to escape the large
man, the trouble would be getting around on the villagers. Bobbing and weaving he dashed around and
through the stalls in the market square, woman squeaking and men swearing as he
sped by. Eventually he broke free from the mass of stalls and
people out onto the main road of the village.
The only road in fact. All the
village homes and buildings were crowded along the road’s edges, where fewer
villagers were moving this way and that as they tended to their daily routines. Raz didn’t stop, hearing
some loud cursing coming in his direction. Sprinting down the dusty main road, his bare
feet raised plumes of dust in their wake.
The passing villagers scrambled from his path, both distaste and
surprise lingering upon their faces. Raz
laughed as he sprinted further, making his escape. Before him an old man tripped over himself
in, scuttling to escape Raz’s path. He
landed on the road with a thud, face reddening from both shock and anger. Leaping over the man, Raz didn’t
miss a beat, landing with ease on the beaten path. Slackening his pace, he stopped to look back
at the man, assuming his former pursuer had been lost or given up. His new adversary’s once neat, crimson
clothes were covered in dirt and he angrily brushed them off as he rose to his
feet, turning to scowl at Raz. “You
filthy Grey-skin. I swear I’ll set the
guards on you one of these days.” A smirk
playing on his face, Raz retorted, “Go wake them up then, and try not to trip
on your way ther-.” He quickly fell silent, smirk falling from his face in
slight disbelief. Behind the fallen man,
pushing through the crowd was the fruit vendor. His bald head had turned deep shade of red,
sweat beading and dripping down his enraged face, his tunic clearly moist. The burly man howled as he came
closer, voice strained from over exertion.
“You lil git! I’m gonna find one
of dem slave-ships and give you to ‘em for free, I swear it!” Raz could hardly
believe how red the man’s face was getting.
Even more unbelievable was how the man had made it ten paces from his
market stall without collapsing from a heart attack. “Suppose
I’d have to pay them to take you, huh?” Raz’s smirk returned with his clever
jest, masking his surprise at the brute’s appearance. The vendor turned an even deeper shade of red
after the taunt, reminiscent to the apple Raz had stolen. If he could get any redder Raz believed the
man would burst. With an angry grunt the oaf charged
the grey-skin, groping forward with thick, slow arms. Raz promptly threw the apple high up over the
man, its red skin reflecting the sunlight. The oaf slowed, his gaze following the soaring
fruit, a dumb expression spreading across his face as it sailed overhead. Raz seized the moment and darted forward,
dodging left around the man and neatly catching the apple on the opposite side. Without pause, Raz kept on running. After a few moments he cast a glance over his
shoulder to see if the vendor was still in sight, but there was no sign of the
man, though there was a string of ornate expletives bellowing out over the
crowd. The vendor had almost caught him
off guard once, he wouldn’t allow it to happen again so once he was certain the
vendor would not see him he veered off into a narrow passage between the
village homes. Only village miscreants
like himself tread upon these narrow passages. Relaxing,
Raz pushed away a clump of black hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. The sun was blotted out by the thatched eaves
of the homes that flanked the small path.
The homes themselves were un-extraordinary, all of them made of rough
wood exteriors that promised splinters should Raz decide to run a hand along
them. They were also built off the
ground, saving the floors from rot during the wet season; these gaps were
boarded up to prevent pests from taking refuge beneath. A grey-skin was one of those pests, but
unlike the alley rats, Raz was able to pry the boards loose, though it was no
easy task. Raz followed the length of the homes
and shacks grouped side by side, their backs to the village wall. The village wall was twice as tall as he was,
though it was nothing more than erected logs stuck into the earth. The thin
gaps between the logs gave small glimpses of the thick jungle beyond. Running
adjacent to the wall was a much longer, though still narrow path that cut left
and right behind the homes, parallel to the main road. Raz hooked right on this path and came across
an old rain barrel, its wooden slats beginning to rot away from years of
neglect. Raz
approached the barrel, feeling hot and sweaty after his escape. The water was clear, but Raz’s sharp eyes
could see tiny insects swirling about in its depths, not that he really
cared. Upon the surface of the water,
staring back at him, was a dark eyed boy. The boy’s hair was black and
disheveled, pointed ears almost hidden amongst the mess. His face was young, thin and dirty, not more
than eighteen years of age by the looks of it.
Yet these things were the least interesting parts of the reflection
staring back at Raz. The skin pulled
taut against his face was an ashen grey, for Raz was not human, not like the
villagers moving in the street nearby anyways.
The villagers and sailors in Esterview were not eager to let him forget
it either; Grey-skin, Soot, Filth, being only some of the names Raz had been
given. Breaking
his stare with himself, Raz plunged his face deep into the barrel, the water
cool upon his hot skin. Surfacing, he
wiped the water from his eyes. Next he
plunged his arms into the water, the apple floating to the surface as he let it
go, rubbing the filth from his forearms. Raz could feel the small boney ridges
that lay beneath his skin, yet another trait of a Grey-skin, comparable to the
crests of sand beneath the ocean. Giving his head a thorough shake,
Raz swept his damp hair back and plucked the bobbing apple from the rain
barrel. Plunging his teeth into the
tart, crispy fruit, he started back down the path, enjoying the meal as he followed
the wall’s edge. Far
down the path, poking out above the peaks of the other village homes was a
chimney stack. That was Raz’s
destination, and he plodded steadily along towards it, out of sight to the
villagers who strolled along the main road just beyond the houses. He’d chosen Esterview’s grandest home to reside
under. Lord Crother’s house was hardly a
spectacle to behold, but in comparison to those around it, the Crother home was
massive. Lord Crother had come from the
mainland kingdom of Kreevy which Esterview belonged to. Raz imagined the other lords of the far off
land had simply sent the dithering fool to Esterview to get rid of him. He could hardly blame them for their choice,
in fact, he was thankful for it. To his
delight the Lord had sent plans for his home ahead of him, demanding a larger
house than the village had to offer.
Crother had wanted everything bigger.
Bigger rooms, bigger windows, it all had to be better than those around
it. The home’s construction had been the
talk of the town for a whole year, but Raz didn’t care about the windows or
rooms or any of that; no, what had delighted him was its height. It was still a single story, like all the
other buildings in town, but Lord Crother had ordered the home to be built on
taller stilts, giving an extra hand’s width for Raz to move about below and
while that did not seem much, it made a substantial difference. He’d moved in well before Lord Crother and
his wife, Marlane Crother, had even arrived in Esterview. Raz
looked carefully about as he continued towards the Crother home. This particular portion of his path was where
Wafi liked to sojourn in the evening. It
was still a bit early, but Raz felt on edge, not wanting to cross the sordid
ex-sailor. Wafi was a slender, tanned man that
had been abandoned by his crew on the isle long ago, and there was little
wonder as to why. Wafi was more akin to
a rat than a human, always poking about in business that was not his own. Worse than that was his ill-temper which
could be brought about by any matter of things, at any given time. That ill temper had struck out at Raz more
than once, so he made it daily task to avoid the man. To Raz’s dismay, as if his thoughts had
summoned the man, Wafi loomed out from behind a corner. “Rassy
my little grey freak.” Wafi spoke as if he had a particularly pleasant secret
that no one else knew. “Apple eh? That’s nice, but it seems you didn’t grab one
for you good friend Wafi, hmm?” He
sauntered forward, slowly drawing nearer to Raz. “Sorry.” Raz replied,
keeping his voice down, eyes following the man’s every step. Wafi scoffed. “Sorry? Ha, don’t lie you little
b*****d.” The man leaned against the
wall to his right, his lip curled. “But
tell you what, I’ll let you go this once, just give me what’s left and promise
to fetch me something more next time you go taking that which isn’t yours.” He leered over Raz though he couldn’t have
been more than a head taller. Raz looked down at the half eaten
apple that he’d gone through so much trouble for. It still wasn’t worth it. “Fine.” He stuck out his palm, and
Wafi snatched it from his palm, giving it a bite. “Mmm, there’s a good Grey-skin. Now scram, I don’t want your ugly face
spoiling my meal.” Raz
went on without a word, not bothering to look back to see if Wafi followed. He could hear the former sailor just fine, nibbling
away on what had been Raz’s prize. With an inward sigh, Raz now
trudged along, melancholy over his defeat. He’d escaped a beating, but he knew he’d have
an empty stomach for the rest of the day.
All the vendors would be keeping a closer eye on their wares now. Raz
found himself near the red bricked chimney shortly after. The construction made little sense to him, in
truth, he found it made no sense at all.
The isle was no stranger to storms, but no matter the case it was always
warm. Nevertheless Crother was a firm
believer in extravagance and the chimney was good for nothing if not that. Stooping, Raz plucked two boards
away from the nails they were hinged upon, crawling into the space beneath and returning
the boards to their upright position. Making
certain they were firmly set in place again, he turened about, allowing his
eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness.
Sunlight flitted between some cracks in the boards on the far side, but
he did not need the light to see. Before
long he could make out the few possessions he’d gathered in his latest venture
into Esterview. A rucksack lay upon the flattened
earth where he slept. In it were oils,
paper, a few miscellaneous bits of metal and some shattered glass, all of which
Raz had either stolen or scavenged in the past few days. He’d found that money was useless to
him. The villagers would probably accuse
him of stealing any coin should he dare approach a stall to purchase anything. Beside the rucksack lay three small leather
pouches. Two of them were filled and
sealed, the last lay flat and empty.
Sand. Raz would fill the final
pouch tonight and make his journey to the other side of the isle in the
morning. Raz
didn’t live permanently in Esterview. On
the other side of the isle lived an elderly woman, Alba. She’d taken care of Raz for as long as he
could remember and was the only human he could abide. She often needed supplies from Esterview and
Raz’s particular skills meant he was the one to collect them. It was also the only place on the isle with
an open beach where Raz could collect the sand she so often requested, since
most of the isle met the ocean with sharp and nearly impassable cliffs. As he
moved about in the darkness, Raz’s stomach groaned. The few bites from the apple only served to
make him feel more deprived of a meal.
He would just have to sleep off the hunger, so with another sigh he laid
down, looking to the floor boards above him.
They were tightly spaced, giving little sight into the home above. Despite his limited view into the world above,
Raz likely knew more than any villager about the happenings in Lord Crother’s
home. More than each Crother probably
knew. Lord
Crother was the only lord Raz had ever seen.
There were no others that bothered to make the long voyage to the island. Lord Crother was a tall, middle-aged
human, but despite his height the man was of similar shape to an egg with a
round, balding head placed at its top.
He always wore rich apparel reds and blues, the Crother symbol, a
rooster, embroidered on the cloth. Raz
failed to understand how a rooster could be a family crest, nonetheless how
Lord Crother could be so proud of such a pathetic animal. Lord Crother’s wife, Marlane, in
contrast to her husband, was the prettiest woman on the isle, though Raz
speculated there wasn’t much to compete with.
He had seen many men stare after her longingly in the market and had
heard almost as many in the house above when Lord Crother was away. Despite the woman’s better appearance, she
was just as much a weasel as her husband.
Raz knew so much yet none of it mattered. The villagers would call him a liar and run
him down before he could get two words out. Yawning,
Raz stretched and closed his eyes. Soon
he would be back in his own bed, free from the village and all its people. For now, he would wait for night to descend. *** Raz
awoke to a heavy thud on the floorboards above him, followed by an angry but
muffled voice. Slivers of a dim, dancing
light pierced the tiny spaces between the floor boards. Night had fallen on Esterview and Raz figured
the muffled voice must’ve been Lord Crother.
It did not take long for him to
discover what had caused the noise either, a small drop of liquid dripping onto
his forehead. It smelled of wine. If Lord Crother already dropped his cup in
the room above he’d been drinking for a while now, which meant Raz had over
slept. The nightly routine in the house
above was known all too well. Lord
Crother’s next cup would bring about strange stamping and shuffling foot falls
which was Lord Crother wobbling about in some strange drunken dance. After this would come a clang or crash as he
knocked over some object, which led to the flurry of footsteps as a furious
Marlane rushed into the room, yelling from both parties ensuing. While Raz had initially enjoyed listening in
on these events, the commodity of it had long since run its course. Now it was his cue that night had fallen. Sitting
up sluggishly, Raz yawned again. He’d
slept much harder than he’d planned only finding himself wanting more of
it. That, however, was not an
option. Too many days had been spent in
the village already, and a far better bed was waiting for him across the
isle. Picking up the empty pouch, Raz
moved for his exit as Mr Crother’s footsteps shuffled away into another room in
the house above. The
passage was now blanketed in shadow, and Raz crawled from his hole, placing the
boards carefully so as not to disturb the silence. Looking down the narrow passage he saw
nothing but the silhouette of rat scurrying through a gap in the village’s
wooden wall. Moving along he took the nearest
left and found himself on the main road of the village. It seemed much smaller without any villagers
bustling about upon it. The village
became more or less a ghost town when the sun disappeared. The
road was illuminated by two moons that hung high in the clear night sky. The first was large, glowing a milky white,
while the other seemed far away and distant, glowing a dull red. The Siblings is what Alba often referred to
them as. Surrounding them were hundreds
of stars, shining like small holes through a black canvas. The
village buildings were dark, and Raz saw that only a few had candles shining
from behind the windows. No one had
bothered to light the torches that dotted the road, the moonlight being enough
for any that might walk the path at this time of night. This was
one of Raz’s rare moments when he was happy to be in the village. A silence enveloped Esterview at night and
Raz felt alone and free to move as he pleased.
The only place alive at this time of night was the harbor’s tavern, the
Eastern Vix, where most sailors found respite after long voyages at sea. Sailors weren’t the only folk to
visit the bawdy house; Raz had often caught sight of a certain Lord stumbling
about the building, the working girls sauntering about with him. In the Vix , enough coin made anything
possible. Raz
neared the end of the road, the village market sprawling out before him, now
abandoned. Beyond it lay the harbor. He’d heard talk of the harbors on the
mainland where thousands of vessels could dock at once without want of more
space. In Esterview there was enough
space for three ships, but to even see the wharfs filled would be a rare thing. The lone ship was still docked. The Saga frequented the isle often and he’d
seen it come into port two days back, the day after he himself had come to
Esterview. Raz
moved towards the village’s eastern wall that ran beside the market, leading
out a few paces into the sea. The waves had
battered the logs here, leaving them twisted, tilting and broken like an old
man’s teeth. On the opposite side of the
harbor stood the tavern, a single torch illuminating the sign where a few
figures stood, talking. Raz had
no business there, and he slipped through the broken wall and away from
Esterview. Beyond the wall, spread
before him, was a narrow sandy beach dotted with numerous boulders. The beach was bordered by a thick green
jungle. Strolling calmly through the water
that rose and fell at his feet, Raz made his way to the center of the beach. Moving further up onto the shore, he sat in
the multi-colored sand. In the pouch he
found a few grains that it had held previously, a light red in color. Knowing where to begin, he started to pluck
up small red specks of sand and placing them into the bag. The waves’ crashing soon lulled him into a mindless
state as he performed the task, time slipping away. All else was silent. *** The
stars had completed much of their nightly orbit and Raz’s sand pouch was half
full when his sand plucking trance was broken by a cool blast of wind that
rushed against his face. Surprised, he
turned his gaze to the north from which it’d come. There, far off in the distance, a great dark
cloud was creeping forward, and another cold gust of wind swept over Esterview. Raz
rose to his feet, puzzling how such a front had snuck up unnoticed. Beneath the looming clouds Raz could see the
ocean waves rising to ever increasing heights then buckle and crash under their
own weight. A flash of light erupted
from the clouds above, and in that brief moment he swore he saw two masts
unlike any he’d seen before exposed behind the roiling waves. No captain would dare risk their vessel in
such a storm. Whatever
the case, a storm was on its way, and that meant Raz had to hurry back to Lord
Crother’s home and grab his supplies before it all was soaked. A dry bed would be waiting on the other side
of the isle. Alba would have to accept
the half empty pouch. Sealing the bag of sand with a bit
of string, Raz hurried down the beach, shooting a fleeting look back at the
coming storm. Another flash illuminated
the strange masts again, there was no denying that. There were only two and
both appeared broken or bent, yet the sails beneath were unordinary as well, as
if the masts had been designed that way on purpose.
As interested as he was, Raz turned
his back on the storm and slipped through the village wall. Something was wrong with the coming storm, Raz
could feel it. Esterview had always been
warm, but for the first time, Raz was cold. © 2015 KackerlackaAuthor's Note
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Added on December 26, 2014 Last Updated on January 4, 2015 AuthorKackerlackaMNAboutNovice writer. Just trying something out because I enjoy it. Looking for criticism and pointers. While I tend to live and study in the US, I'm currently studying abroad in Sweden. I love language.. more..Writing
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