章節 1: A Light in the Dark
The thunderstorm raged as midnight clocked. The pitch darkness of the sea was shone by the lightning that struck far away, but not too far for the thunder to resonate a booming sound into anyone's core.
The howling wind blew gusts of blistering cold at intense speed, while the rain poured heavily and fiercely over the island of Dreya. It was a seasonal storm in summer, one that often left the island in ruins far past the beginning of autumn. The residents hid in their brick houses and cabins, praying in silent fear for the storm to pass by, all but one.
In the empty Eastern half of the island, the abandoned rocky shore was warring with the thunderstorm and sea. Waves of frightening height and thunderbolts too near for comfort struck the beach and the water near it. No one dared come to the Eastern half, not even in the brightest and most peaceful days. But for the stoic fisherman—Isaac—no storm was too fearsome for him to abandon his duty.
He stood near the beach, nearer to the shore than land, and nearer to the land than sea. He was draped in a short, leathery cape; carrying a lantern with his gloved hand while the other held a string bag filled with different tools and equipment. He paced back and forth through the thin line between shore and land, shining his lantern towards close things, and lowering it for farther things; but the lantern was on regardless of whatever happened. It was lit and must stay lit even if he gave his life for it. It was the beacon of hope that lost ships in the sea could have on such dark, frightful nights of hopeless terror.
Despite the rain that soaked him wet, he was stoic with a squinting glare that he scoped the dark sea with but couldn't escape the sniffles caused by the cold. He sniffed and sneezed, but his eyes were fixed on the beach, his resolve firm and resolute. And as if his determination was answered, a silhouette caught his eyes.
A galleon ship drifted from the pitch darkness of the sea into a barely visible silhouette. A lightning bolt struck, and the ship was visible for a second. The sails were torn and ripped apart; one of the masts was damaged, the other collapsed on the ship, and the third was missing entirely. The hull was perforated with holes and burn marks, and the bowsprit was snapped in half. The very fact the ship was sailing was a miracle, to the point that Isaac pondered if it was one of the ghost tales much amused in the stories of veteran sailors. However, all doubt was blown away by the shadow of a man who stood on the bowsprit, waving frantically, as if the lantern light of Isaac was his savior. And much to his dismay, the frightened fisherman couldn't believe his ears as he heard a 'Help!' echo from where the man stood on the ship.
Isaac ran towards the shore, careful with his steps to not slip on the slippery rocks leading to the water. He reached the edge as he eyed the galleon that crept closer. Now much more visible and closer, the fisherman shouted as he gestured for the man.
"Crash it on the rocks! Here! Here is safe! There is no other way! Crash it here!" he said, repeating his words over and over to make sure the man heard him.
Thankfully, he did, and his shadow disappeared for a moment before the ship sailed faster towards the rocks and crashed violently onto the shore. The hull cracked and screeched, but the ship was thankfully beached with no further damages than the one it already had. If one didn't know, they would think it was a beached shipwreck of old.
Isaac stood facing the ship, unaware of what to do, until a rope ladder descended from the deck down the hull to the ground. The fisherman caught a firm grip on it and climbed it upwards while carrying his lantern. As soon as his feet landed on the unsteady floor of the ship, the figure of the man greeted him.
He was a strong, muscular man of imposing stature. The lantern shone brightly on his features: chin-length brown hair, beady blue eyes, and the young lively face of an adventurer no doubt. But his body was marred with injuries, covered in blood. His clothes were filled with holes, torn from certain parts; but the man was jumping in joy as he approached the fisherman.
"Sir, thank you thank you so much. Please, if you could help me, my crew is dying. Please, sir, I will do anything, I will forever be in your debt. But I beg you, save my crew." the man pleaded, lowering his head as he clasped gently onto Isaac's free hand before he descended into a kneel, bowing his head near the fisherman's feet.
Isaac stared at him, wary. "Show me."
The man guided the fisherman down the stairs into the inside of the galleon. Much to his dismay, the reeking metallic stench of blood assaulted his nose upon climbing down. He was horrified at the sight of dozens of men and women, dressed in different attire, lying injured and bloody. In comparison to the still-standing man along with Isaac, the rest seemed to be a breath away from death. Some had their bodies riddled with wounds and holes, some were wrapped in soaked bandages a shade of red darker than blood. Some were squirming and turning in pain and agony, while others lay there silent and unmoving.
"Son, are you sure they're alive?" The fisherman asked.
"Yes. Please, as you can see, they're injured and in pain. I don't know if they'll live much longer without help." He replied, sadness shocking back his words.
"Who are you, exactly?" The fisherman asked, antagonistically. He took another look at the crew, but their attire was more or less that of either adventurers or pirates.
"We're a crew of adventurers, sir. We were caught in a battle with very bad people, worse than I could even describe. They ambushed us and destroyed other ships of ours. We're the last remaining ones, that is if anyone could save my friends."
The fisherman was wary. He didn't want to aid pirates, but another gaze at the crew…and his mind was set.
"I take it you're the strongest, right? How many can you carry?" The fisherman asked.
"Not many." The man replied.
"How many of your crew is there?"
"36, me included. Meaning there's 35 here who need immediate help, else they'll die."
"35…" Isaac thought for a moment. "Can you take them all out of the ship? One by one, line them up on the shore. I will be here soon."
"Understood." The man replied. "Thank you once again, sir."
"Not now. There's still much to do."
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One by one, the man gently carried his crew members until the ship was vacant. He lined them up next to each other in a grim scene as if they were dead and waiting for burial. The man shocked back tears before the last crew member—a young woman no older than him—gazed up at him, weakly, struggling to whisper.
"Are we…alright?"
"Yes, yes you will be alright." The man reassured as he stroked her hair, "Everything will be okay, Neila. We found help. Everything will be fine."
Seconds ticked by before two horses galloped down the dirt track in the forest towards the rocky beach, dragging along a horse-drawn carriage. They halted on the fine line between sea and shore as the fisherman jumped down and hurried towards the man.
"Get them on the carriage, only 12 at a time! You stay here, take care of them. I'll get them to my house, I'll come back. Three trips, until everyone is cleared off the beach, okay?" The man spoke, loud enough for his voice to not be sunken by the howling wind, crashing waves, and rolling thunder.
"Thank you, sir! Thank you!" The man replied.
He took two of his companions at once, gently placed them on the back of the carriage, and repeated this effort until 12 crew members occupied it. The fisherman hopped onto the driver's box and swung the reins before the horses galloped back.
Inside the forest, on a treeless green hill, there was a house. A modest wood and brick house erected near a barn, and a small wooden shed. Inside the house, a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties sat at a table near the front door. She was patching the holes on a beautiful silver scarf. She seemed worried and anxious, seldom pricking her fingers by accident with the needle.
Suddenly, rapid knocks on the door made her jump in fright.
"Charlotte, it's me! Open up!" The fisherman's voice called.
The woman hastily went for the door and opened it, expecting the worst. Much to her dismay, she couldn't expect what she saw in her wildest imagination. Her husband stood facing her, soaked in not only rain but also blood.
"Dear, what's wrong? Are you okay?!" She gasped, shivering as she held her husband.
"Charlotte, it happened." He said, his voice hoarse and anxious. "I knew it would happen one day, I knew a ship would crash on the shore."
She peaked behind him, her eyes falling upon the carriage of injured crew members. She held her mouth in silence before she turned towards her husband, shaking yet by no means clueless.
"Are they pirates?" She asked.
"I'm not completely sure. But they need help."
Charlotte looked at the crew members for a moment before she gazed at her husband's eyes. She was doubtful, but not untrustful.
"Okay, I believe you, dear. What should we do?"
"Get all the blankets out. All the food, all the bandages, everything we have, get it out."
"What? But dear, that's our winter reserve! How will we live if we take out everything?"
"That comes later. But these people will not live to see winter if we don't do something."
"But…dear, are you sure?"
"I'm sorry to cause you such trouble, Charlotte." Isaac apologized, "But please, we can't let them die. Trust me. Winter will be alright, but it won't be if we don't help them."
"…I believe you." She nodded, "What should I do?"
"Lay out all the blankets. Fetch the bandages and stored food. I will get them out of the carriage."
With a nod, Charlotte grabbed a leather cloth that she wrapped around her for cover as she ran to the shed. While she fetched the blankets, Isaac grabbed each crew member and carried them to the house before gently laying them on their backs on the floor, in the middle of the house.
'Damn it, they're heavy.' Isaac whispered to himself. No doubt, the crew members were either pirates or adventures, either way, they were strong fighters from their heavy bodies and powerful physique. Which begs the question, just what the hell happened to them?
As the crew members were lined up, Charlotte came with the blankets. She spread each one in a line before Isaac set the crew on each of the blankets. The fisherman walked once more out of the house as his wife went for the bandages.
"Dear, where are you going?" She asked.
"There's still more."
"More? How many?"
"36. Here is 12, meaning there's 24 more."
"More! Heavens, how can we shelter them, dear? Our home can only take so many!"
"Then it will have to take as many as it must for tonight."
"…Be safe, dear. I love you."
"I love you too."
He took to the carriage before galloping into the forest, and onto the dirt track to the shore. Charlotte fetched the bandages, bags upon bags of bandages that she carried on her own into the house. Then right afterward she took to the shed once more, fetching bottles of medicine that she brought back into her home.
The crew members were grunting and groaning, in pain and suffering. As frantic and fretful as she was, she took the bottles of medicine, dabbed a few drops onto cotton balls, and rubbed them onto the wounds of the crew members. After rubbing each one's wounds, she wrapped them in bandages and left them to rest. Their pain was excruciating, but noticeably lessened from Charlotte's efforts.
She took a moment to catch her breath, but only then did she notice that the crew wasn't most affected by the injuries. One glance at their cracked lips and she understood. The crew was not only injured but starving and parched, for days even!
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The second batch was taken safely to the house and finally followed by the third. Before the third trip was made, the leader of the crew searched every nook and cranny of the ship, made sure there was no one left behind, and took one last glance at the galleon before he rode along with Isaac.
The carriage halted in front of the house, the man and the fisherman carried the 11 remaining crew members out of the carriage and lined them up near their comrades. 36 crew members were brought into safety, at last.
But the sight was no less harrowing. The bandages began to shift color to red, blood stains covered the blankets, and the crew members groaned louder than before. Thankfully, it was a sign of some of them finally gaining back consciousness from the pain that lessened. The man was no less worried about his friends, but couldn't hide the look of ease which was plastered on his face.
"Sir, I am eternally grateful to-"
"Not the time, son." The fisherman retorted, "Your friends are dead sooner or later if they don't get professional help."
"Dear!" Charlotte called to her husband, her dress and hands now stained in blood. "They need food and water! They're injured, but they're not just in pain, they're starving and parched!"
"Oh no." The man gasped, "Son of a bitch, how could I forget?! Um-…uh.. sir, if you ma-"
"Charlotte, could you cook a stew for…36?"
"Most certainly, if the young man could so kindly get the food crates from the shed. There is a lot, we'd need all the food there. Maybe you could help him, dear."
"No need, I have caused you enough trouble. I'll get them myself." The man said, "Madame, thank you greatly for your kindness. Please, anything. Whatever you need right now, I will do anything. Is there absolutely anything I could help you on, other than the food?"
"Get the crates, and after you can nurse your friends into a stable condition. They need their bandages replaced, constantly."
"Of course, certainly."
Right as the man ran for the shed, Isaac gave Charlotte a loving gaze.
"I don't know what I would do without you."
"No less for you, dear."
"I must go to the town. I need the doctor, and all the nurses I can get to help these men."
"To the town?! Now?!" Charlotte was shocked, "It's hours away, you would be back here by dawn! It's stormy, it's dark; you can get lost on the road or even worse!"
"I have to. I can't let them die, I cannot."
The fisherman took to the carriage once more.
"That man is honest, and kind. I'm sure he'll keep you and our son safe until I come back. Be brave, I know you're strong enough to be."
He swung the reins, and the horses galloped into the forest again, down the dirt track towards the town right as the man came back with two dozen crates of food stacked on top of each other, a feat of strength uncommon to normal human beings.
"Where should I put them, madame?"
"Get to the kitchen, one by one please."
The man did as he was told, while Charlotte hastily gathered her cooking utensils and lit up the wood to heat the oven and the stove. Right as the crates came in, she took to cooking a pot of stew, while the man tended to his crew-mates, replacing their bandages, wiping off the blood, pouring medicine on cotton balls, and rubbing their injuries with them.
Upon finishing with each one, he wrapped the blanket they lay upon around them, protecting them from the freezing cold. One by one, they were all wrapped in fresh bandages and blankets, feeling a bit better than before.
Bowls upon bowls, plates upon plates, Charlotte filled all that she could with stew and laid them on the counter next to her. 36 bowls of freshly made stew lay there, along with more stew for another 36 inside four different pots. The man aided Charlotte, carrying bowls of hot stew and serving it to his crew mates. He sat them up, gently and kindly helped them eat it as Charlotte did the same.
One by one, the crew were silent. Alive, yet not groaning as they were before. And with an exasperated sigh, the man threw himself upon a stool in the middle of the house, tired yet relieved. Unexpectedly, Charlotte took a spare blanket and wrapped it around the man before she gave him a bowl of stew.
"Thank you, madam."
"Charlotte. Charlotte is fine."
"Yes, Charlotte. Thank you very much, we owe you and your husband everything."
"His name is Isaac, and no worries, we should help those in need." She spoke with a friendly smile on her face, "And what about you, young man? What's your name?"
"Oh, I'm Tommy."
"Tommy…I do believe I heard that name before…" She pondered, "Oh, my! Tommy?! The adventurer?! You're Tommy?!"
"Yes, I'm afraid so." He chuckled.
"Oh dear, I've heard so much about you! Wonderful, such wonderful journeys you've been on! I always tell your adventures to my son."
"Your son?"
Right before she could reply, the weak voice of a young boy spoke from behind. Tommy sat right in front of the open door of the young boy's room, who lay tired and weak on the bed with sunken eyes and a wet cloth over his forehead.
"A-…adventurer?" He asked.
"Yes, yes I am!" Tommy answered, snapping into a cheery and happy mood instantly.
Before he continued, Tommy leaned towards the woman and asked her:
"How old is he?"
"Four."
"Is he sick?"
"Yes…very. My poor little boy has been like that for longer than I bear to see him."
"I see."
The man dragged the stool near the boy's bed before a smile beaming with friendliness and joy was plastered on his face.
"You love adventurers?"
The boy nodded.
"What a mighty coincidence, it just happens that I'm the greatest adventurer in the world!"
"Y-…you are?"
"Yes, I am!" Tommy replied energetically, flailing his arms in a pompous, flamboyant manner. "My tales are never-ending, my journeys are ever exciting! I've been through more than people could wish to be, and seen places you wouldn't even believe exist!"
"Wow… C-…can you tell me about them?"
"Before that…what's your name?"
"Adrian."
"Adrian…what a beautiful name. I can't think of a better one fit for adventures."
"Is it? C-…can I be an adventurer?"
"Well, how about I tell you about my journeys first, then we'll see if you want to accompany me or not? We have a long night ahead of us, a night of wonderful adventures!"
With a smile on her face, Charlotte gazed at the two before she stepped back and went to tend to the crew mates. Finally, after so long, she was happy. Her fearfulness and worry were gone as she saw her precious little boy smile in happiness despite the pain—to finally smile after so very long.
"Are you a-…also a hero?" The boy asked wearily.
With a light chuckle, Tommy answered: "No, you're my heroes."
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