Every night the dream was the same, and every night Heron’s heart shattered again.
The sun smiled down upon his island home. A warm and loving breeze graced him as he gazed at the sea from his home at the peak. The sea was always busy with fishermen, merchants, and everything in between coming and going from his great city. But Heron’s eyes shined as he spied on ship in particular.
A silver swan gliding across the sea, its neck long and made of solid bronze forged in the image of a terrifying colossal bird.
Young Heron may have been afraid of this ship, due to its resemblance to a particularly cruel and ferocious rooster that guarded its flock. It stood to Heron’s waist, and its beak was surely stronger than even the finest spears in his father''s army. Many a time had Heron tried to face this loathsome beast, and many times he had been defeated. Surely an enemy worthy of even the greatest heroes of yore.
However, Heron was not afraid, for he knew that this colossal bronze bird signified. He would soon be gifted such exotic toys and treasures from all lands, surely crafted by master''s unparalleled. His most treasured possession was one of such gifts. A figure of the hero and god Maris, carved from the tusks of a walking giant from the distant lands of the East, where magic and wonders still lived. He would spend hours recreating heroic battles and triumphs of his distant ancestor and founder his home. And he could expect other trinkets of such from this strange silver ship. It had been more than a season since the silver ship had
He leaped off his chair and sprinted out the door of his room, past the slaves and workers of his father''s palace. Dressed in fine silks and cotton, burnt orange, browns, reds and whites decorated their dress. Some bowed, some jumped at the sudden chaos unleashed upon the hallway, and others simply ignored his presence. No doubt having grown used to the walking calamity that was Heron. Down the halls, through the garden and to the main entrance, inches away from the outside world before he was suddenly hanging in the air, five feet away from the gound.
Hoisted by the collar, a man he knew better than his own father stood looking down at him. Behind his impeccably groomed black beard, his face tightened with disapproval, and in his free arm dangling from the now angry man’s hand was his favourite learning tool, the wooden rod.
Heron froze, in his excitement he only just realised that he had been waiting for his teacher to return to continue their lesson. Having been caught so quickly, and by the one man in the palace who he couldn’t force obedience, he knew what would happen next. Heron imagined what his funeral would be like, he would be buried alongside his ancestors in his family tomb, alongside his grandfather who had left them not two winters past. Would the gods welcome him into the halls of the undying as a hero for being vanquished by such a powerful warrior? He would soon find out as he closed his eyes and braced for the inevitable.
However, it would seem the gods would not see him join their court so soon, as the rod made no move to strike him. The increasingly angry man barked, in his sharp commanding tone gained from decades of lecturing ill-behaved boys and ‘ill-bred, milk-drinking halfwits!’, as he called them. “Heron! You were told to stay in your room until I returned! If you were going to fight that over-grown rooster again, I shall have you thrown into the mill and fed to it!”. His teacher Shaked his fists and Heron along with them, the collar and chain around his neck rattled.
Heron flinched at his teacher''s fury. He knew that it was an empty threat, but having the much older and stern man shout at him made him tremble. Heron quickly replied, eager to appease this creature of fury. “No! No, I wasn’t! I was going to the dock! The silver treasure ship is coming! I seen it, I did! In the waves! We must hurry or we’ll miss it!”. His hands gesturing wildly as he dangled suspended in the air by the strong arms of the stone giant. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
The face of his teacher froze as if he had been turned to stone. He blinked several times, before his grip weakened and Heron found himself returned to the safety of land. Free! Escape quickly before he can be recaptured! Heron’s mind racing, knowing that he needed to act quickly to escape the wrath of his teacher. He looked up, but what he saw was not at all what he expected.
The anger had fell from his teachers face, being replaced by a wide joyful smile. Heron’s plan to escape suddenly vanished, like grains of sand falling from a sieve. His teacher was such a cold man usually, utterly devoted to education and intellectualism with no room for joy, besides that which he derived from having crushed another scholar in an intellectual debate. Heron’s teacher tossed his rod away to the side and clapped Heron on the shoulders merrily. “What good news! They haven’t been able to travel here since before the winter past! But Heron, you know not to run out into the streets like some commoner. You must stay here, wait in your room and I will collect you when they come.”
Heron, still frozen in shock, simply nod his head. He didn’t know how to react to such a strange sight. Forgetting about the ship, he fled from the clutch of his teacher and sprinted back to his room. He knew his teacher was right of course, he was too rash. Of course, someone of his status wouldn’t go to a mere merchant, they would come to him. And so, he sat in his room, eager in anticipation; arranging his favourite toys on the floor ready to add to his collection. Fantasising on what he would get this time, perhaps a statue of an animal? Or maybe he was finally old enough to have his own sword, he was shaking in anticipation. And there he sat, for what seemed like ages, and eventually the light would dim, and the sun would fall from the sky.
He was startled with his teacher barging into his room unannounced. Full of smiles as he was earlier; Heron remembered feeling unsettled by this, but his excitement proved stronger. His teacher, apparently in somewhat of a hurry and carrying a sack. “Heron, get ready now. We need to meet with the merchant! Go on, get your things!”
Heron happily obeyed, packing all his favourite toys into the sack without question. He would need to show the sort of stuff he liked after all. He followed as his teacher took him through to hallways, though, he noticed that they were strangely quiet. Usually, the halls would be full of slaves and workers. Dismissing this, Heron continued to follow his teacher. Through doors he barely knew existed, down a narrow hallway, and into the back gardens. “Do you think they have any more Maris toys sir? Thats my favourite.”
Heron filled the walk with idle and excited chatter, reciting what he wanted and how much he was going to take back. His teacher offered little in the way of conversation beyond telling him to make pace. This didn’t bother Heron, however. So long as he got the toys his heart so desired, he would walk a thousand miles and then again.
Eventually, after several minutes of walking, they found themselves at the edge of his father''s palace and finally met with the traders. A group of six men, all strong with bronze skin. A tall, long-haired man of and a sharp chin and gold Jewlery decorating his face. Strange, he thought. He looked very similar to his teacher, likely being his fellow countryman.
Heron grew wary, in his excitement he had gotten caught up in the adventure of it all. Never had he met anyone at night outside of the palace, and certainly not without an escort. He took a step back, preparing to run away but he was stopped. Heron looked up and saw a hand clutching his shoulder, a hand that belonged to his teacher. Looking at his face, it was still covered in a smile. However, it was far less jovial or kindly as it was earlier, it made him afraid. Suddenly, the men grabbed him, bound his arms and legs, gagged him, and threw him in a sack. Heron tried to shout for help, but it happened before he could react, and he was gagged almost immediately.
He tried to escape, tried to tear wriggle his way out of the sack to no avail. He was thrown around, like his kidnappers were moving quickly and with reckless abandon. He heard bustling streets, drunks laughing carousing and celebrating loudly. Before he knew it, he had been thrown to the ground and stayed there for what felt like forever. In the dark, tied up, his eyes stung as the tears fell from his face.
Suddenly, he was torn from the sack, the light blinded him as he shut his eyes to protect them from the sun. Heron looked around. The floor... it was pure white. Around him were several large bronze skinned men, surrounding him, laughing and speaking in words he couldn’t understand. Among them, he saw a familiar face, his teacher, his neck bare. Confusion clouded his mind, where was he? He looked at the horizon, trying to sea his city. But all he could see was the endless realm of the ocean, surrounding him in every direction. His mind grew numb, sounds were blocked from his head. He turned to his teacher, pleading for help, guidance, answers. But all he saw, was that sinister smile.