I blinked.

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you mean ‘what do you mean that’s supposed to mean?’” Drax stormed.

  “I think you got the wrong guy,” I said, although I was genuinely fearful for the one who was Kyden Amahri, whoever he was.

  “Trust me, we got the right guy,” he said, and added grimly, “sadly.” I knew by the way he said it that it was “sad” for him, and not for me.

  I held my hands up in defense, “I’m not Kyden Amahri,”

  He cocked his head, noting my sincerity, but asked, “Then who are you?”

  “Lewis Raron, son of Sir Makaroth, regent of the king. Or, he was.”

  He considered this, then said, “Yes, I knew that you were living with the old regent Makaroth, although you are not his true son. He never had a son nor a spouse.”

  I widened my eyes. “What? But I look exactly like him —” Drax looked at me, not sure whether I was joking or not.

  “It matters not whether your name is Raron or Amarhi, although that is rather suspicious.” He glanced at me suspiciously again. “If Norrix was correct that it was a boy your age then…” He trailed off. I started. Norrix? If this was his doing, I was going to hunt him down and throttle him…

  Then Drax asked, “Is there anyone else your age who is also a boy in Makaroth’s house who is not a servant?”

  Before I could think to lie I responded negatively, thinking only of Lord Norrix. Then I realized my stupidity, having been able to get out of this whole thing by lying. But that would have affected the ones at the manor, so it was probably best that I had told the truth.

  “Well then, perhaps he got the names mixed up.” He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  “So…you’re going to…”

  “Go on with what our orders are,” he answered bluntly.

  My face fell, although I wasn’t surprised. The men all settled into the tents they’d been building during our conversation. I slept outside tied to a tree.

  “Men from the king’s palace treating me like a dog,” I grumbled.

  “Well I can tell you this, it’s not going to get better.”

  “I figured that much,” I muttered. Drax disappeared into the tent and snuffed the lantern.

  I couldn’t seem to sleep, not that I tried very hard. The darkness and crickets chirping seemed like a clock ticking. Meanwhile, I worked hard to untie the ropes that tied my hands together. The rope was so rough that occasional blisters lodged their way into my skin. It was hard, and by the time I had untied the bindings around my hands, my fingers were raw and bleeding. I quickly went to untie the bindings around my ankles, and then I stood up, a mass of ropes lying at my feet. Swiftly I undid the rope that had tied my horse to a tree, denouncing all rope bindings in the process. I left the saddle where it was, fearing that the scuffling of putting it on the horse would wake someone. I leapt upon my horse and galloped away.

  I knew this was dangerous considering my present circumstances, but proceeded anyway, knowing that if I got far enough away, I wouldn’t be caught. One moment I was thinking this, and the next I saw that I was being pursued. Turning round I saw that the man after me was not Commander Drax, but who I assumed was some kind sentry who had carefully hidden himself.

  It was only after a few seconds of riding before I knew that my attempted escape was serious.

  I heard a swoosh, and no sooner than I felt the piercing tip of an arrow lodged into my shoulder.

  Time seemed to stop as a ripping pain tore through my shoulder, and I felt a jolt as I was tossed off the horse and I cried out as the ground met my grimacing face and unprepared body. Cheynne whinnied and continued. I practically roared with pain as I wrenched the blood-soaked arrow out of my skin. It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, and I rolled on the ground, using all my effort to stay conscious.

  Unintentionally I seemed only to be able to concentrate on the fact that there seemed to be a hole in my shoulder (although I knew this was a rather large exaggeration), the agony of it all was overwhelming. I groaned and black filled my fading vision. The figure of the night vigil loomed over me.

  Sweat seemed to embrace me as if I’d just overcome something intense. And it seemed as if I had, for a few stood around me looking nervously at me. I immediately felt the terrible pain in my shoulder. I touched the spot lightly with my fingers and shivered. I could feel the dried blood and string — apparently I was deeply unconscious so they didn’t even have to consider drugging me to perform the stitching on my shoulder. Every time I thought of what it looked like a chill went down my spine. The men standing around me then went out of the tent and returned with Commander Drax.

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  He looked mad. “You should be glad that we saved you,” he stormed “rather than leaving you out there to die a fool's death. Which, you being a fool, should’ve died! Instead, I’m here, healing you when I’m supposed to have killed you by now!”

  I ducked my head, then said meekly, “Sorry,”

  He only muttered in reply. “Well, it’s time something was done with you. You’ve got two choices.”

  “Only two…?” I murmured.

  “Yes, only two. Now, number one is, we kill you. And number two is we throw you on an island where you will most likely die of starvation or natural occurrences, or of course the murderous barbarians. Now which would you prefer?”

  I chuckled. “That’s like asking if I would rather live or die,” then I perked sarcastically, “Oh golly, it is!”

  Drax shook his head, and said, “So you would prefer to be thrown on an island then?”

  “Yes, although thrown isn’t a kind action for how you are to transport me there,”

  “Alright. I’ll send you there with…” He hesitated, glancing at his men. Surprisingly, a few men ducked their heads, as if they did not want to be chosen. “Kurmel, and Stuiuk. The rest of us shall return to the palace. Hopefully, you will make it back,” He finished, gesturing at the two men.

  We rode off as the sun rose, and had only ridden a mile before we came to the coastline. The waves were rolling in slowly; the sea seemed calm enough. A few small boats were encamped there, underneath a large canvas. Oars, lanterns, and dried meat (which looked extremely old) lay in each boat. Kurmel and I remained in the boat while Stuiuk launched it into the water, then hurried to climb in.

  As soon as we were situated, Kurmel smiled, and commenced our journey with:

  “Alright. Off to Calham's Island.” The menacing tone with which he uttered this sent a shiver running through me, and as the dark clouds lengthened, and thundered rolled in, I began to grow afraid. I did not have the gift that some people possess of immunity to fear. Perhaps my gift was to pretend that I was not afraid, but afraid I certainly was.

  The midday storm that came was even louder out on the ocean. It seemed as if the boat would split right open from the noise that reverberated across the water, which was steadily growing more choppy and corrugated. It seemed all the time as if the rain would come pouring down — but it never did.

  Although only minutes before we’d boarded the boat the sun had been shining brightly, the sky plunged into an incomplete darkness, different in particular spots in the sky, as if someone had lousily painted black all over a white canvas, leaving only bits of white and gray to direct our boat with. I hoped the island was near, for I didn’t know how much longer we would last on the waters we were on. Waves lapped up and over the sides of the boat, licking our legs and feet. The supplies had all been pulled out by a wave, and even the men looked nervously at each other.

  Suddenly I saw it. A large wave rising out of the water was coming towards us. It was black and terrible, and I wondered at the particularity of this storm, and how the change had happened so rapidly. I saw it and yelled to the men, but above the noise of the waves and paddles splashing, and the thunder shaking, I was sure that they could not hear me. The wave was coming from the direction we were headed, and the men’s backs were towards it.

  “Watch behind you!” I shouted as loud as I could. The men turned and saw the shadow above them. One of them shouted something inaudible as the wave tumbled over us.

  The icy water stabbed me, and I lay in the water shocked for a moment before I came back to reality. I had been tied to the boat and was so distracted I hadn’t taken a moment to untie my bindings, although they were much tighter behind me, that I could hardly move my shoulders. I struggled, trying to rip the board that held me to the rope free from the boat so I could at least climb to the surface. That didn’t work, of course, so I tried to turn the boat, which was upside down and over top of me, right side up. I worked hard, and I was running out of air. Then I remembered the knife I’d hidden in my belt, and my face went down to my waist, feeling for it. I felt the hilt and clutched it in my teeth. It was stuck on the fabric of my pants, and I jerked my head. Not only did it cut through the top of my pants, but it also sliced a fresh cut on my stomach.

  Finally, I cut through my bindings, and releasing them, swam to the surface. My knife dropped somewhere, but all I could think of was holding on tightly to the boat. My hands were shaking fiercely, and I couldn’t steady my breathing. Then I felt something. At first, I shook with terror when I thought that it was a large animal down there — but it felt more like a person. None of the men were at the surface, and I came to the idea that I should risk it to grab the one that had brushed my foot.

  I pushed other thoughts aside and dove back into the frigid water. I felt through the water, grasping at nothing until I came to a jacket. Pulling, I swam slowly back up to the boat, which to my relief, was still bouncing there. The man I had was the one Drax had addressed as Kurmel. I lugged him into the boat, and sat there, panting.

  The storm had calmed, and I was so tired I let the boat lull me to sleep.

  As I sat up, I spewed wet sand from my mouth, and for a moment couldn’t stop hacking. I needed water, but wouldn’t dare to drink the mineral-inundated seawater. Only a mouthful of that sand and water had told me how salty it was. Looking around, I surmised by obvious surroundings that it was far out into the night when I had awoken. The indentation in the sand made it clear that the boat had been pulled onto the island, and out again; for alas, I was alone. No sign of anyone or anything left me cluelessly sitting on the island’s coastline. It was, however, peaceful, and I quite enjoyed just lying there, staring at the moon. Although the solemnity of the night added to the ominous effect of my present solitude.

  A black bird from the treetops rasped menacingly, setting a formidable tone after its silence. I was suddenly wary of dangerous creatures that could be out and about. And I reached for my knife. But lo and behold, it was not there, and I berated myself for carelessly having released it into the dark, icy waters.

  “Ahh!” I cried, frustrated, even more so at the prospect of being alone on this island without a single weapon was not a pleasant one. It was still dark, and I ran about the coastline, kicking as I went, billows of sand blowing up into the midnight air. I was alone on an island, with no weapon, no food, and for what reason, what cause? Would something good come out of this? Certainly not for me, but I hoped at least it would for someone else of a worthy cause. Then, I thought, of course, it was the king who had imprisoned me here, and the only one who actually might benefit from my isolation was he himself. Although why he wanted me gone or dead, I did not know; it was a suspicious business, indeed.

  For a while, I sat there in the sand, staring at the stars. And as they faded away and the morning sun replaced them, the island came to life.