Once the trawler pulled into harbour, The Stow Away disappeared like a ghost. Gabrielle found herself questioning whether the strange boy had ever existed at all. But his cool touch lingered on her skin like an ominous shadow, whose presence haunted her. She rubbed her neck and hurriedly made her way down the boardwalk. Gabrielle’s original plan of travel involved one that relied completely on the insidious side of her. In her mind it had been a voyage void of a map, where everything seemed to go her way.
After all, why would it be difficult?
She was certain thousands of men women, even children of the Faux Land travelled to timber town every day from the harbour. Now she found she was, indeed, mistaken. Not only did she not see any women and children, but the presence of a road or track leading out of the harbour seemed to be non-existent. She bit her lip.
“What’s the worst that could happen . . .” she approached a near-by sailor, leaning up against the jetty, smoking a cigar.
“Excuse me . . .” she said timidly.
He jumped at the sound of her voice.
“Is that a woman. . .” He rasped. He slowly turned toward her. His appearance made Gabrielle recoil in shock. I will leave it to the readers imagination to conjure an image for this man, for even to describe his appearance causes bile to rise in one’s throat, making the description impossible anyway. He smiled with rotting teeth.
“Well, I’ll be damned. We avn’t seen a maid aroun ere fo some time no we avn’t” He looked her over with hungry eyes.
She cleared her throat “I was just wondering if you could tell me how I could make my way to Timber Town from here”
“TIMBER TOWN!” His laugh sounded painful, a rasping wheeze which rescinded in a fit of coughs.“A flower like you will wilt out there.”
Gabrielle drew herself up to her full height. She was sick of being compared to such a thing as feeble as a wilted flower.
“Please, I am in quite a hurry, would you please just point me in the right direction. I think my safety is my own concern.”
“Oh? Is it now?”
“Well, yes”
He laughed again. “The only way out of Hollow Harbour is through Whispering Woods, down yonder.” She looked to the direction the sailor pointed. Desolate trees stared back, their feet covered in creeping mist, the kind that looked as though it was ready to crawl up your legs and down your throat. “If you ask me, a woman has no place around any of these ‘ere parts. That’s from Hollow Harbour, all the way to the New Island.” He snarled the last two words, as if they were a cuss. “ You best turn back on whatever boat it is you stowed away on and head back to wherever ‘tis you hail. God has forsaken this place. Ever since the first uprising, which mind you we won over those doglike New landers-” She gave him a sharp glance.
“You digress” she said, emphasizing her loathing within each syllable.
He cleared his throat, “Yes well, what was it I was saying . . . Yes that’s right, no sailor in the right mind would accept a lady-“
“Just-“she rammed her shaking hands into her pockets. “Please stop talking.” She took a deep distinguished breath and pulled her shoulders back. “First, I must state that I am quite of the opinion that in war, neither side is villain or hero. Both sides are as equally “Doglike,” as the other for starting a war!”
“Aye! You best be bitin’ you’re tongue-“
“And secondly!” she continued “as I’m perfectly capable of defending myself, I’d appreciate it if you ceased your chauvanistic remarks .Thank you” she curtsied before storming away.
Now it seemed, Gabrielle was simply acting out of a feminist need to prove the sailor wrong, otherwise there is a certainty she would have done exactly as the vulgar man had recommended. She could hear the sailor snort as she walked on. “Another death another done . . . Ah me, why is it always the pretty ones?”
Part two
The mist swallowed and followed Gabrielle’s feet, freezing the salt in her socks. She hummed a gentle tune to keep her mind off the presence which told her she wasn’t wanted.
“I guess that’s why they call it Whispering Woods.” She joked to the listening trees. The wind screeched overhead carrying the scent of burnt blood and death. Gabrielle stopped dead in her tracks. “. . . What is that I wonder?” her ivy eyes were cast over nothing in particular, merely the shadow of a man she’d thought she’d seen. “Stow Away?” she whispered. A distant scream and horse whinnies gave her a response.
The impending gallops of hooves on the dirt track were a warning to hide. Gabrielle’s legs had become frozen stiff, like two fixed poles driven into the earth.
When the white riders came into view, Gabrielle’s mind immediately told her these men were good, ignoring the warning in her heart completely. They rode past her, eventually slowing to a halt a little further up the beaten track. Gabrielle stood with her hands rammed into her pockets, her lower lip trembling. The men dismounted their white horses and crept towards her, not unlike the impending mist, their armoured hands clasping the hilts of their golden swords.
“Ah, what is this? A fair maiden with hair as black as the tunnels of winter, and skin as white as that of snow?” sneered one.
“’Fair’ Bartholemew?” scoffed another, (there were four riders in total.) “ I despair! It is merely another wretched swine, making her way back to the ruins of Timber Town from the Harbour.”
“ Ruins?” Gabrielle breathed. “I am not of this land, I journeyed from afar-“
“Hold your tongue women!” shouted the third rider, “Do you forget who we are?!”
“Soothe yourself Felline, you should be joyous . . .” said the second rider with a smile oozing with distrust. “I think she confessed . . . “
Felline’s face spread with the same grin.““I am not of this land?” a spy from the New land we thinks?"
“Yes, we thinks. . .” three of the riders stood and laughed amongst one another, the fourth regarded her silently with dark eyes. Gabrielle felt the desire to disappear inside herself as he suddenly drew closer to her. She noticed this rider wore a white mask which covered half his face. His dark hair was a startling contrast to the silken cloth. He searched her face for quite a long time, until he finally spoke.
“You are mistaken, I believe. This is a women of the Old Lands, it is well . . . Quite obvious to . . .to observe.” he spoke so quietly and softly, it was a rather difficult task to interpret what he was saying. The three other riders looked to one another. Gabrielle noticed they each shared the same shade of icy blue eyes and stark white hair, making the fourth stand out like a shadow in a white room.
“ Doth anyone else remember setting off with a fourth?” said the rider, Bartholomew.
“Not me” said Felline shaking his head.
“Nor I” said the rider whose name we have not yet come across.
The silent rider turned his back on the others and spoke more to Gabrielle.
“Forgetfulness is not a desirable trait in White Crusaders my friends.” He turned to himself and began to mutter incoherently; “Fiends and friends, fiends and friends, fiends and friends, what is the difference but an R?”
“Muttering to oneself is not a desirably trait either! Who are you? State your name!”
“Why, this is an outrage! I’ve been a White crusader for five and ten years now! I’ve risked my life and saved many a burning village from destruction under the hammer arm of the Newland! I serve our king and queen loyally and without question! I don’t ask for pay, because respect has always been my reward!” the riders seemed startled by this sudden outburst.
“Oh . . . apologies then comrade . . . perhaps we did set off with another rider. And this notion does indeed make my heart smile.”
“ Indeed, indeed, and apology? I’m afraid it means nought to me!” he cleared his throat before his continuation of speech, just as quiet as before. “You can show your sorry by letting this honourable maiden continue on her way to Timber Town.”
“But, comrade,” said the nameless rider. “There is nothing left but fire and corpses, we are the only survivors of the battle, do you not remember?”
“Tell me what’s going on!” Gabrielle demanded “Fire and corpses? You mean to say . . .?” all had gone silent in solemnity. “What happened?”
“What always happens my lady. The Newlands dark arms stretch across the land like a rising vulture-”
“consuming all in their path, consuming what isn’t theirs, like some insatiable fiery beast.”
“Yes. I only regret that we failed to save Timber Town from their dark clutches. We’ve been failing a lot lately . . .”
“Man is given their own souls, just as each nation is given a genius to guide them to their own destiny.” recited the dark eyed rider with the hint of a smile in his voice. “They say he is the son of Night, the embodiment of darkness.”
“He sends spies to our lands in the thousands.” continued Felline
“No one knows how they make it across the steel wall. We once thought it was an impossible feat. It seems their Genius has appeared, and ours hasn’t. ”
There was a silence in which the smell of death crept inside all their hearts. “Where do you head now?” Gabrielle asked almost inaudibly.
“North,” Said Bartholomew, mounting his horse. The others followed his example. “To Cyclical City. You best be coming with us my lady. These lands are forsaken.”
The three riders rode off into the mist, leaving Gabrielle alone with the fourth, clambering atop his white steed. He held out is hand. Gabrielle noticed his were the only ones which were uncovered.
“Come now my lady forward we must go.” She hesitantly took his hand. She almost pulled it away for his icy touch. As they rode forward she thought she could hear him muttering; “the ice only knew ‘twas frozen after it touched the fire . . .”
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