It begins, the separation of the Fauxwind. The old lands are scorched, writhing before death. Tradition no longer has a place amongst progress. Truth is lost in change.What was once one, becomes two opposing forces; one of celestial lights, driven by business and the tongue of war, the other steeped in the cool of little rivers, their surfaces dancing with fire and sawdust. For ultimately, what is old cannot outlive what is new. Even to survive, tradition must change. It must adapt to the weapons its enemies use, learn all their ways of life, until they know it as they know themselves. So in this, has change proven it is imminent? Or has the great war of ideology only begun?
Just as man is given their own souls, so is each nation given a genius to lead them to their own destiny. The Fauxwind will never change, or will never be the same.
Chapter one: The Stow Away
She boarded the fishing trawler in the early hours of the morning, hoping it would carry away her burdens. She watched the old land slowly disappear behind the fog without loss or mourning. She wiped the sweat from her brow and smiled sweetly in the darkness. She was going now, and no one would take her back to Veritas, because no one would find her.
She would change her name, her hair and travel widely all over the great land of Fauxwind. She laughed; who from Veritas would travel all the way to Fauxwind for her anyway? They would be happy she was gone. She was happy to be gone herself.
She licked the salt from her lips and headed back inside the storage cabin where she hid. "Do they kill stow aways?" she mumbled to herself as she sat on one of the many cargo boxes with cluttered the space. "Would they throw me over board, into the icy crust of the ocean?" Her thoughts were interrupted as the cabin door suddenly swung open, allowing in a violent gust of the ocean which howled in every part of the room. She flinched hoping this was the only presence which would present itself. She waited, her nerves on a knife’s edge.
Yes, she thought, it was only the wind. She slowly went to close the door.
The silence which greeted her after it was closed was the sort which puts one on guard. The eeriness. As if the earth were holding its breath. But what gnawed at her most, was the crushing loneliness which reverberated throughout the empty chasm of her body.
She thumped her head against the wooden door, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.
What was she doing? What did she think she was doing? She was going to die out on her own. But she knew that, she was not a stupid woman.
The scent of tobacco wafted towards her. She froze.
“Well, well. What have we here?” said a soft voice.
She quickly turned, her heart in her throat. A young man sat on an old crate in the corner of the cabin, resting his feet on the back of a wooden stool. She wondered how long he had been there, with his watching eyes, still as an Adonis statue. His velvet hair veiled half of his face, black as smoke, just as alluring.
“No luggage, scrappy appearance. And I don’t suppose a fragile thing like you would ever marry a fisherman,let alone become one.” She waited, “It seems we have a stow away, Yes we do.”
She met his eyes, darker than anyone’s she’d ever seen, illuminated by his pipe each time he took a drag. “A fellow stow away.” He offered her the pipe “Do you . . .?”
“No thank-” she looked longingly at the small amount of comfort she was being offered. He snickered as she snatched it from him and took a long weighted drag.
“Lost souls lost at sea, lost their lives, lost as can be. Can comfort comfort us?” He stared at her waiting for a reaction. She handed him back his pipe and stared down at the ground.
“Apparently not.” He smiled at her with a set of white even teeth. The girl flinched at their appearance. "Come, sit by me.” She did as he bid her, although not carelessly. She seated herself on the edge of a cargo box, edging as far away from The Stow Away without seeming cold. He peered around the leaky roof curiously.
“It certainly is dark in here. Isn’t it?” He commented.
“Of course it is!” she snapped “And why are you smoking! Do you want to get thrown overboard?” his laugh boomed around the room.
“Hush!” she said as harshly as a whisper would allow. He stopped and leaned in close to her, blowing smoke in her face. She wouldn't allow herself to cough, not even her eyes to water.
His appearance reminded her of a creature of the night; Cunning and dangerous, hauntingly beautiful.
“What do mean why am I smoking? Don't you mean, why are we smoking?” He slowly backed off, making himself comfortable once again. His demeanour gave the impression that he was ready to pounce at any moment.
“Won’t the fisherman smell us?” She said weakly.
“I’ll tell you a story." He began, his voice jovial. "When the fisherman was 12 years old a bottle rocket flew up his nose and exploded. Since then, he has lost his entire sense of smell and taste. And some say it even affected his hearing.” She looked at him from the corner of her eye, now too afraid to meet his. They were like two black holes, threatening to swallow her whole.
“You’re afraid of me.” He laughed, biting on the edge of his pipe.
“Well, I don’t know you” she said barely audible. The Stow Away grunted in distaste.
“I suppose." he grumbled "When did I start to scare you, may I ask?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged “Future reference.”
“Well, I guess it’s your eyes.” she shifted uncomfortably as he began to lean closer and closer into her, “An-and your hair.” The Stow Away frowned deeply, “And how you knew what happened to the fisherman. I guess, you’re just creepy.” He suddenly stood and brushed some dirt from his tatty trousers.
He wore a long sleeved cream coloured shirt which had once been an immaculate white and overalls, one of which had broken, and now hung slackly by his hip.
“I guess.” He scoffed, stretched out his pale skinny body, and then turned to face her. “Strange travellers far from home. Where is home? Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know!” He threw his pipe over his shoulder, another addition to the clutter. The girl fell under the impression that all this stuff was his, the result of years of hoarding. He suddenly leant over and peered into her eyes with his. Staring and staring and staring
“If I told you my name would that make this journey more comfortable for you?” his playful tone seemed mocking.
“I doubt it.”
“Um, doubt is not defined, doubt is often wrong. You’ll find what you hated, is often where you belong!”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what? Now! Introductions! My name is The Stow Away. I hail from Faux Mountain, the old.” A veil of malice suddenly fell over his eyes. “Well, what’s left of the darned place.” The veil was lifted and he smiled. “So, what’s Your name? Where are you heading? Where were you born?”
“I’m from Nocturl, in Veritas.”
“Ah, Veritas a place of tradition, and religion.” He smiled darkly when she gave no response.
“You’re a witch then?” she gave no reply. “Ah, Worse then,” He laughed. “Such a sweet looking thing . . . is a Weilder?” she remained silent, staring anywhere but at his face. It felt dangerous to meet this man’s eyes.
“Veritas is a beautiful land.” The Stow Away continued, “Too bad everyone there is hell bent on keeping the old beliefs alive. They kept me running around, that’s certain, um, trying to draw the curtain on me, scribbling their ideology all over the tear soaked ground. They think they are above us creatures, but what proof have they found?” She edged away, unable to take his stare anymore. It felt like she were some kind of prized meat, and he was the observer. However, no matter how far she moved, this hunter seemed too close.
“All of your people thought I was damned . . . That I had no soul. Is that why you’re really afraid of me?” he whispered “Because the old traditions are still built into you? Like you’re some cold machine, void of life and thought?”
“No” her voice wavered, “No one but the Gods are in any position to judge who is damned an-and who isn’t. I know that now.”
“Pah, when have the Gods ever cared for man? And I observe, you are conveniently humbled, before a monster.” He laughed then suddenly paused, delving them into frightening silence. The quiet drew on and on, the black eyes grew serious, looking deeper and deeper into her own.
“There's no need to fear me." He said airily, as if his voice were part of the silence "Do you think I would crush such a longsome flower? Near to the hour when it’s innocence will wilt?” His hand suddenly came around her neck, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a scream. He regarded her with curiosity, his head cocking from side to side.
“Her heart pulsed beneath her veins red blood and fear rained who could ever be the same again? You mask your fear well, well, well don't we all?” she pulled away, crashing into the clutter.
“Don’t touch me” The imprints of his cold fingers burnt on her skin. He laughed manically.
“No? Really?” he said something beneath his breath, meant to be inaudible; "I don't mean to be a monster my autumn. I am the Hermes Bird, I am, I am. . ."He cleared his throat and smiled almost too humanly "So where in Fauxwind will the Weilder wonder?”
“Timber Town.” She said hoarsely.
“TIMBER TOWN!” he began to laugh hysterically. The girl’s cheeks burnt with anger.
“What? What’s so funny?” she demanded. The Stow Away’s laughs slowed to sporadic giggles.
“The land of the lie, the land where we go. The land of stolen hearts and stolen souls. That is where we go.”
“Why do you keep doing that? Stop it!”
“You think you’ve escaped. The horror is over and out! But it’s only begun sweet heart, the war of tongues, the war of tongues.” He laughed once more, watching her expression with fascination,
“Oh . . . have I said something wrong?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because, you think you’ve found heaven. I’m just trying to warn you. It’s a whole new level of hell out there.” He sighed and sat down on the cargo again, reverted to exactly the same position as when she had first seen him, the same stature.
“‘Man is given their own souls . . . just as each nation is given a genius to lead them to their own destiny.’ ” He recited the words methodically and coldly.
“Destiny,destiny,destiny.” he pronounced each syllable crisply and clearly. The girl stood to leave. She’d rather be thrown overboard than locked in this cabin for a minute longer. “How have you not heard? I can’t understand.” She gave no reply.
“The land has been divided for so long a time. The rivers burn, the buildings waver like giant steel trees. Change is inevitable why can’t they see?” She was startled when he stood and peered closely into her eyes, his cold hands on either side of her face. “But you can.”
She shivered under his touch, but she felt no fear. “You have marvellous eyes” He said with a smile. She pulled away and headed for the door, her cheeks burning red. “What is your name?” His soft voice followed her.
She paused, and she never knew why.
“Gabrielle Night.” She left the room, but she didn’t hear The Stow Away recite;
“Innocent girl, walking through the night, her hands bound, and gag pulled tight. Does she know where she goes? She’ll always follow, a handsome man leading her to the gallows. She’ll find the nightmares that she fought to bury deep, will arise and conquer all things she keeps . . . near here” he pointed to his chest.
. "Comfortable".
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