The city was not like any Whill had ever seen. It had no great buildings, and no barrier separating it from the surrounding land. It consisted of thousands of large huts, each with smoke coming from small chimneys. The huts were identical, though some were larger than others. This, Whill had learned while listening to the Eldonian men speak of their village, was only due to the size of each family living within. Social status was not reflected in the size of one’s home, or in the things one might own. Each person had a purpose, and each purpose was vital to the survival of the people. Whill wondered why more people didn’t live in this manner. While others fought viciously over things they did not need and in the end brought them no lasting joy, the Eldonians lived in harmony with their surroundings and each other, celebrating and sharing in good fortune, and mourning each other’s losses.
As the former slaves went down the ramp and onto the beaches, they were greeted by their kin. Sobbing and laughing jubilantly, they hugged, kissed, and held their families and friends who had thought them lost at sea.
Whill was reluctant to leave the ship, his guilt still weighing heavily on his heart. Abram came over to him. “Look, Whill, at the joy we have brought to so many people. If not for our actions, these people would never have returned. They would have died along with those other men. Don’t you see the good that has come from something so terrible? Those men would have died anyway, or been worked to death by Cirrosa and his men. If you would not have won that tournament, Cirrosa wouldn’t have pursued us. And these people would not have had a second chance at the life they love so. Everything happens for a reason, Whill. Take comfort in the joy you see before you.”
Whill knew Abram was right, and he told him so. Together with Tarren, they made their way onto the beach and were introduced by the Eldonians as the great saviors of the sea. Blushing and feeling very uncomfortable, Whill nevertheless accepted hugs from the Eldonian women. Most were dressed in long, hooded robes due to the morning chill, but some wore only cloths covering their genitals. The men carried long, thin spears, and some brandished swords.
The Eldonians insisted that Whill, Abram, and Tarren join them in a celebration meal. What Whill had expected to be a small breakfast turned out to be a grand feast and celebration that lasted late into the day. By the time they were ready to leave, the sun was beginning to set. The four surviving men and the chief walked them back to Old Charlotte, followed by what seemed to be the entire island population. As they approached the ship, the chief spoke.
“Once again, thank you for returning our people. We are forever in your debt and at your service. If ever you are in need, please, think of Eldon as an ally. You are welcome here eternally.” With that he bowed, as did the rest of the people of Eldon. Whill, Abram and Tarren bowed in return and made their way onto their ship. As they set sail once again with Abram at the wheel, Whill and Tarren watched as the people of Eldon waved happily after them. Night began to fall as the three companions sailed toward Sherna.
The deep blue sky made way for a blackened one and the stars awoke. They shone brightly in their heavenly realm, untouchable diamonds of the night. With the appearance of the stars also came a chill that rode on the whispering winds and clung to Whill’s bones like a long-lost love. Carrying an oil lantern, he went below to fetch his wolf-hide coat. It hung above his cot, which was now occupied by Tarren. The boy slept peacefully, a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. But to Whill he appeared too peaceful, too still, as though death had come back to reclaim him, to fulfill the fate which Whill had altered. He nudged Tarren on the shoulder, and to his relief the boy rolled over, mumbling something inaudible.
Satisfied, he pulled a blanket up to Tarren’s chin and took his coat before silently returning to the deck. Above, Abram was still at the wheel, sailing steadily east. Whill joined his friend and for a while they stood in comfortable silence, sailing by moonlight. They were lucky; they seemed to have the benefit of a full moon. Abram seemed mesmerized by the moon’s reflection upon the water. To Whill he looked more at peace than he had in a great while.
Noticing Whill staring at him, Abram simply smiled. “Is Tarren sleeping soundly?”
Whill turned his gaze to the water once more. “Out cold, He did have a long day.”
Abram laughed. “Didn’t we all. You should get some rest, Whill. You didn’t sleep last night. You must be tired.”
Whill shook his head. “No, I’m not, I’m wide awake. I guess having slept for two days has left me with plenty of energy for a while. I’ll take over for a bit, Abram. You haven’t slept, either. I’ll wake you at dawn. If this wind keeps steady we’ll be in Sherna well before noon, I’ll rest then.”
“Alright, Whill.” Abram gave him a pat on the back and stretched with a great yawn. Then he started for the sleeping quarters.
“Wait,” Whill said. “What do we do with Tarren? We can’t see him safely back to Fendale personally.”
Abram turned at the stair. “Do not forget, we have a wealth of diamonds. Once in Sherna we will find a good woman to look after him until we return from the mountains. Then we will go to Kell-Torey to meet with the king. He will see to it that Tarren finds safe passage back to Fendale. Worry not, Whill.” With that, he disappeared below, and left Whill alone with the moon and stars.
Whill took the wheel and once again let his mind drift with the waters. He thought of Tarren, and how amazing it still seemed that he had healed him. Only the elves had the power to heal with energy. If Whill was not of elven blood, then what could the explanation be? Also, if he could heal, what other powers did Whill possess? Could he also use his abilities to fight, to manipulate energy, as they did? The ocean held no answers. Only within the mountains would Whill find any revelation.
As he sailed steadily east, the sun began to rise. The blackness of the night sky was replaced slowly by a dark blue. As the stars disappeared, the heavens became a light blue. The horizon glowed orange with hints of radiant pinks, reds, and purple. When the sun finally showed its face, it gleamed down upon the world with a magnificence and splendor of a god.
Whill secured the wheel and quickly went below and woke up Abram. Though he meant not to, he woke Tarren also. Soon the three friends were enjoying a simple breakfast of lobster and crab, gifts from the Eldonian women. They passed the remaining time of their journey mostly answering Tarren’s candid questions.
As high noon approached they could see the harbor of Sherna come into view. As the harbor drew closer and the mist parted, Whill saw the distant, snowcapped mountains beyond. The sight made his chest swell with excitement. Soon all his questions would be answered, all secrets revealed.
With Tarren’s help, Whill lowered the sail as Abram steered the ship into the small harbor. There were only seven vessels docked, six fishing boats and a small royal ship. Off the coast the mother ship could be seen rocking lazily with the waves. It was a battleship of the Eldalon navy. Whill could now see over a dozen Eldalon soldiers waiting on the dock. As Old Charlotte eased next to the dock, Whill threw a line to one of the soldiers, who quickly secured it to a worn post.