Bab 25: Part one: The Isle of dreams
Far, we have sailed, creeping into the tiny crevices of a merchant's hand to bid our time, learning from our informants but always in reach of news.
No matter the sway of the land, a lover's hand is never far from reach. The thunder that trembles in the sky may only know half of their might the rest is laid buried in the map of their hearts. His blood mixed between the seas as he buried the coin deeper into his flesh. He recalls the rhyme; the one he uses every night, in hopes to call his sailor home.
"I have given up a coin for an eye,
My bones have all but gone dry,
I've been led astray by the serpent's grasp.
It reached too far and clawed at my eye,
but it is yet to be seen if they will resent me for my greed.
Will my lover prevail upon her moonlit night?
Or has it forgotten it's shine and need for wealth.
Like the moon its beauty has faded no longer enticing.
'Craven' are my words and thoughts that lay buried behind my skull of tears, I welcome thee to the isle of dreams".
Roger looks out, as his eyes fill with tears; he removes himself from the deck to take residence in the captain's upper quarters. His maps covered the room only leaving a small space on the bunk closest to the door. Due to his weight, one of them fell on the floor pinpointing to the south of Essos, where they resided across the summer sea in a vast continent which is known as Sothoryos and to the east of them is the Southern Jade.
They crossed these treacherous waters that held the landscape of Ghis and its inhabitants in hopes of making a home for the corsairs. A place to rest when the seas become unagreeable or the monsters it hides can no longer withstand its thirst for blood carrying us down into the depths of untold fortune.
He has seen ships sunken at sea, children taken from the breast of their mother's, thieves and treasures all alike, but never has he forgotten the isle of dreams. We call it that because it sounds prettier. I was told that once, that you may have prayed for sleep a moment of rest perhaps, but you may always be met with horror so bleak that you may never want to sleep again. Days you have roamed. You should have turned back, and I should've never taken my eyes off you. The deeper you went, the further you lost your way and so, did I.
The true torture is not the creatures or the dead you may have faced, but the rumbling of the seas we may never set sail nor reach again. My dreams are simple, they are the combination of sorrow and want. Remembrance is just a tear lost he thought, as his eyes closed.
"It was dark among the trees, where the moon did not reach". During such hours a terrible sound so frightening could be heard. "No one was safe. No life was certain". (George R.R. Martin quote)
Rogers remained at Gorgai the Isle of tears as his captain commanded. He wouldn't have survived a day in these hellish grounds, burden by these silly questions it was and still is the only thing keeping them alive. I even doubt he remained on the port. What information did he gather? What lover did he claim? How was he faring? Was he even alive? Did he believe me dead? How many years has it been? Or has it truly only been a few days? The sea called to us on many nights, the crashing of the waves, the sound of the Krakens, the whispers of gold. It drove him mad with anguish.
"Sorrowful are these tears, 'O' sailor, bind me to the mast among the sea, leave me astray among the Gods you fear". A prayer to every man they have lost thus far. Upon our arrival some years ago, we have been met with odd and peculiar sightings. These were just a few scriptures of those who could read and write tailing our adventures of places you should never go if you are sent to this part of the isle.
"Ruins found upon the isle of Tears, the isle of Toads, and Ax Island hint at some ancient civilization, but little is now known of the vanished men of the dawn ages. Whatever its true extent, the southern continent is an unhealthy place, it's very air full of foul humors and miasmas. Blood boils, green fever, sweetrot, bronze pate, the red death, brown leg, worm-bone, sailor's bane, pus-eye, and yellow gum are only a few of the diseases found here, many so virulent that they have been known to wipe out whole settlements. Nor is disease the only danger that those who seek to know this wet, green land must face. Huge crocodiles lurk beneath the surface of the Zamoyos have been known to overturn boats, swimming up from below so they might devour their occupants as they struggle in the water. Other streams are infested by swarms of carnivorous fish capable of stripping the flesh from a man's bones in minutes. (George R.R. Martin quote) Those that have adapted the art of catching such a creature tend to make a good score in trade.
There are stinging flies, venomous snakes, wasps and worms that lay their eggs beneath the skins of horses, hogs, and men alike. It feels as though your flesh has been eaten off and if you dare try to take them off your better off dead.
Basilisks both great and small are found in great numbers on basilisk point, some twice the size of lions. In the forests south of Yeen, there are said to be apes that dwarf the largest giants, so powerful they can slay elephants with a single blow. Farther south lie the regions known as the green hell, where beasts even more fearsome are said to dwell. There, if the tales are to be trusted, are cravens full of pale white vampire bats who can drain the blood from a man in minutes. I no longer doubt the legends. We have roamed this infested jungle, we've learned that your hearing may become your peril, and your sight is your only blessing. No creature no matter the size or its wit can be trusted.
Tattooed lizards stalk the jungles, running down their prey and ripping them apart with long curved claws on their powerful hind legs. Snakes fifty feet long slither through the underbrush, and spotted spiders weave their webs amongst the great trees. Most terrible of all the wyverns, those tyrants of the southern skies, with their great leathery wings, cruel beaks, and insatiable hunger. They make you tread lightly, and I can't even imagine a creature greater than that.
Brindled wyverns have green distinctive jade- and white scales, that grow up to thirty feet long. The irony of it all is this entire fucking jungle is green and the air stinks of poison.
Swamp wyverns have been known to attain an even greater size, though they are sluggish by nature and seldom, they don't fly far from their liars.
Brown bellies are no larger than monkeys, and are even more dangerous than their larger kin, for they hunt in packs of a hundred or more. But most dreaded of all is the shadow-wing, a nocturnal monster whose black scales and wings make him all but invisible... until he descends out of the darkness to tear apart his prey.
On the isle of Toads can be found an ancient idol, a greasy black stone crudely carved into the semblance of a gigantic toad of malignant aspect, some forty feet high. The people of this isle are believed by some to be descended from those who carved the toad stone, for there is an unpleasant fishlike aspect to their faces, and many have webbed hands and feet. If so, they are the sole surviving remnant of this forgotten race. Some say that there were races here once---forgotten peoples destroyed, devoured, or driven out by the brindled men. Tales of lizard men, lost cities, and eyeless cave dwellers are commonplace. No proof exists for any of these.
The Sothoryi that dwell closest to the sea have learned to speak the trade talk. The Ghiscari consider them too slow of wit to make good slaves, but they are fierce fighters. Farther south, the trappings of civilization fall away, and the brindled men become ever more savage and barbaric. These Sothoryi worship dark gods with obscene rites. Many are cannibals, and more are ghouls; when they cannot feast upon the flesh of foes and strangers, they eat their own dead. The Sothoryi are big boned creatures, massively muscled, with long arms, sloped foreheads, huge square teeth, heavy jaws, and coarse black hair. Their broad, flat noses suggest snouts, and their thick skins are brindled in patterns of brown and white that seem more hoglike than human. Sothoryi women cannot breed with any save their own males; when mated with men from Essos or Westeros, they bring forth only stillbirths, many hideously malformed". (George R.R. Martin Quote)
Never ask how I've come upon these things. My dreams are to leave this place, to return to my old friend in hopes that our services will be needed. To have mead and drink without the worry of death creeping at my door. To sleep and to hold my lover close. To sail the salty seas and crush my enemies. To have the weight of my own gold bury me in its waters. I long for it and maybe that's why I will always only ever see it my dreams as my tears leave me.
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