Chapter 8

Nearly two weeks after the familiar discovered land, the slow-moving Drake spotted finally spotted the seagull’s promised island. It was large and crescent moon shaped, and from a distance, it appeared to be a tropical paradise, nestled in the Azure Sea, far from the mainland.

The captain judged it to be dozens of miles long, with a large mountain dominating the center. The mountain rose so high, that on a cloudy day, the peak would undoubtedly be obscured from the ground.

Formed from volcanic activity ages ago, the island was lush with jungle growth and protected from the sea by long sand dunes, making the trip into the mouth of the bay treacherous. The Drake was forced to weave around them carefully, using the guidance of a sailor placed in the crow’s nest.

Gus was also right about there being people here. The island was dotted with homes and buildings. Made of brick, with clay tile roofs, there were hundreds of people living here. A thriving community that hadn’t shown on the Drake’s map.

The captain hadn’t been surprised by that fact. Maps were usually tightly guarded secrets owned by the various trade groups. The one they used had been procured by Annabelle’s father years before and was not as detailed as others Edvard had seen.

A series of long wharves extended from the sheltered cove, with dozens of small fishing vessels tied to it. Several more were drifting in the bay, tending to their nets or fishing with poles.

As the Drake passed them, the people aboard waved in greeting to their vessel, not showing any signs of fright at having strangers visit their island. Wil was surprised by their behavior, until Bell pointed out some other vessels on the dock, flying flags of the Illyrian Mercantile Association.

“We aren’t the only ones looking for repairs.” The older man said.

Wil could spot several of their large ships docked at the wharf, showing signs of storm damage. It seemed that others were caught in the last month’s bad weather, traveling through the Night to reach the island.

Night had been an interesting experience at sea for the young man. The sky was filled with stars, and unlike land, the sea had very few nocturnal monsters to be wary of. It was almost peaceful, after months of dreading the Night, to spend time relaxing when the sun went down.

By the Captain’s estimate, they would be spending Night here on the Island this month, the repairs were likely to take at least a week’s time, if they could readily secure the wood. If anything were to happen during their stay, it would likely happen when the suns went down.

Standing on the deck, leaning on the railing near the front of the Drake, Wil watched the approaching island closely, Garman and Bell by his side. After informing the group of the captain’s concerns, they were all on guard, looking for the first sign of trouble.

“Looks like a perfect, idyllic little island. Perfect spot to relax, do some fishing, maybe some swimming.” Bell offered. He was perfectly sober today, a rarity that spoke volumes of his expectations of the island, a contrast to his words.

“Which means, something there is going to try to murder and eat us.” Garman said, scoffing at Bell’s assessment. He always expected the worst of every situation, and seemed surprised, almost disappointed, each time things worked out.

“Hopefully in that order. I’d hate to be eaten first.” Wil quipped, using his mana to enhance his eyesight.

The island came into sharp focus, the colors becoming more vibrant. Nothing seemed off about the community, he could even see kids playing on the beach, digging holes in the sand or chasing each other.

“Bloody pirates.” Garman declared, predicting what trouble they will face here. “I’m going with pirate island.”

“Really? If that’s your bet…but they seem nice. Even the kids are pirates?” Wil questioned, pointing towards the beach.

“Especially the kids, all of them flamin’ are. Jolly Rogers tucked away in the houses, just to lure us in. Once we dock, up goes the black flags and they rob us blind. They’ll probably sell you as a slave, pretty boy.” Garman confirmed.

“Pretty elaborate for pirates, but it’s your bet. Bell?” Wil asked, turning to the older man.

“I’m thinking…cannibals. A whole community of cannibals.” Bell said, nodding his head at his guess.

“That’s a long bet, Bell. Look at those drying racks near the beach, they’re full of fish. And it looks like those are coconut trees over there!” Wil said pointing them out to the other man.

“They just enjoy eating human flesh, not that they need to. I’m not changing my mind, lad.” Bell waved Wil’s observations away, sticking to his opinion.

“If you’re so smart, Junior. What are you putting your money on?” Garman asked, spitting over the rail.

The drake had sailed pass the sand dunes now, closing in on the dock. They could see a small group of people waiting at the end of the wharf, waving them forward.

“I’m going with…ghost town.” Wil proclaimed. The other two man laughed at the suggestion.

“Usually ghost towns are deserted, Wil.” Bell offered.

“No, ghost town, as in, inhabited by actual spirits. I bet we’re going to wake up one morning and the town is going to be in ruins. We find that all the inhabitants were centuries dead, and we’re trapped on the island.” Wil said, nodding his head at his own words.

“Fair enough, too late to change your mind now.” Bell said, locking Wil into the bet.

“What are you guys talking about?” Mara said, walking up to the trio, with Martin and Annabelle following closely behind.

“Betting on what to expect once we dock. You know, disasters and such.” Wil said, not looking away from the island.

“Oh, fun! Ok, I’m going with…cannibals.” Mara said, grinning at the game. Bell shook his head at her suggestion.

“Too late, that’s mine.” Bell said, Mara looking crestfallen at the words. Wil shook his head at the fact that both of them thought the islanders were cannibals.

“This is a morbid game.” Martin observed, crossing his arms.

“We live a morbid life.” Wil shrugged at the words, turning to look at Mara. “Pick another one. Except for pirates or ghosts, those are already taken.”

“Shit, those are all the good ones.” Mara said, thinking for a moment. “I’m going with…cultists.”

“That’s pretty general, what are they cultists for?” Wil said, laughing at the idea.

“Umm…Volcano god?” She offered, pointing at the mountain in the distance.

“Alright, Quentin? You or Martin have a bet?” Wil asked, turning to the pair standing back from them.

“I’m going to be optimistic and hope that everything turns out fine.” Quentin said, Martin nodding in agreement at the words. The others groaned at the answer, shaking their heads at the pair.

“Nothing ever turns out to be ‘fine’, but I hope you’re right. Although, you just jinxed it.” Wil said, turning back to the island.

The Drake drifted close to the dock, pressing up against the wood as lines were thrown from the ship to the people standing on the dock. The gangplank was extended, and the captain led the party down to greet the locals, the first mate staying on the ship in case of trouble.

There were a trio of people waiting for them on the wharf. A short, middle-aged man, deeply tanned, with brown hair, and wearing a set of plain, cotton clothing and grey jacket stood in front of the others, his arm extended. The captain stepped forward to shake hands with him.

“Greetings, Welcome to Miquelon! I am the mayor of our humble community, Armon Durand! We praise the Lord of All for this blessing!” The mayor said, vigorously shaking the captain’s hand.

Wil exchanged a look with Mara, who was now sporting a grin as she silently mouthed the word ‘cultists’ at him. Rolling his eyes at her, Wil subtly gestured to the others to be prepared for anything.

It looked like Mara may be right about these islanders, depending on who this ‘Lord of All’ was. For once, he wished it had been cannibals, at least they were clear and upfront about what they wanted from you.