“From Spence Lamberly,
To The Tcheen,
In an Effort to Help,
I pray this letter finds you in good health, despite the island's disappearance,” Lifting the quill, I rocked back into my chair and took a breath. The point met paper again: “I am writing this for two reasons. First, I submit myself to the investigation as I am obligated to help find the envoy. Second, because I fear we may not find it, I must record my memories of this beautiful adventure so that time doesn’t taint them.” Hoping that sounded refined, I continued: “Capturing these memories has become my greatest work, so I hope you can enjoy this. Though if you can’t, I understand. It all began on the beach…” I leaned back once again and conjured memories of the adventure–filling my mind with wonder.
The curling and chipping waves made their way to the grainy shore before being brushed back out across the ocean. Looking out, unsailed hardwood masts protruded from the cargo ship, interrupting the otherwise smooth blue horizon. Cleaning duty for the last three weeks was moored far from me; I’d have more decks to swab later, as our destination was still a ways away. The wind grazed my face as I gazed back toward the ship. It was a bit of a work in progress: no fancy carvings, spotty paddleseed finish, and not a single false-front on any drawers. The carpenters were good but…well, they were also sailors. And Tcheen sailors aren’t a cosmetic bunch…
I dragged off my blue bandana and looked at the simple embroidered design backdropped by the ocean. Even all those years ago my 8th year gift had been a scrap of cloth. I have got to find a job in Kotodel. I turned toward the island(definitely NOT Kotodel): an unexplored rainbow of reds, oranges, and greens in all shades, shapes, and sizes! Tall flowery plants hanging their petals in the canopy, bushes that had purple-red tendrils snaking between the leaves, and brown-haired vines hanging off of trees reaching for grounded green grass. Toward the back, rolling hills with orange fronds extended upward. It was quite the contrast to the meadows and woods of my home!
I sank to inspect the sand. The grains were small flakes that stuck together with a tacky substance creating an almost medicinal feel, like ground erano leaves mixed into thick cream. This would make terrible sandpaper! I scooped some into my pack pocket to try it out later.
Farther upshore, the scholars were running back and forth, pointing at people and places. Captain Jartse’s voice boomed over them all, organizing groups according to their research-as-much-as-possible-in-one-day plan. I had heard, as we were getting on the island, talk of staying longer than a day to study. Just seeing the place had convinced them a day was not enough!
Narvi had joined in the distribution of work. Her lean arms held directing fingers, and her well-practiced voice shouted at barrelled crew members and papery scholars. Her wavy brown-black hair got tussled with her long daren eyebrows as her head spun about. She isn’t smiling… I had seen her real smile only once, last night on the ship.
It seemed like forever ago, but twilight had come and with it the swap of personalities that define @[dreamers](species:593bc97d-9498-4ef5-8db8-411d3d407c49) as a people. Her more reserved half hadn’t come down from the nest for evening mess, so I had climbed up to her. We watched the stars for hours up in the nest, conversing softly with each other about simple things. Sailing. Cleaning. Stories. She really was a nice person when she let you know her. Her voice rip-cut through my reexperinence.
“LAMBERLY! Pay attention! You are assigned to Captain Jartse for hunting!” Her fists clenched at her side–knuckles whitening. Last name too. Not good. Spence, do your job, and try to pay attention! You need to get used to this!
I straightened up and saluted, “Yes, ma’am!” and sprang off to find the captain. I searched for his bulky physique and side-cut hair in the dissipating crowd, feet running and eyes lagging. My feet were too far ahead. I ran directly into @[Scribe](person:0c63808f-9508-4c41-80ac-c508cca1dd9e), high head obscured by a book. We stumbled apart, regaining our footing in moments.
“Sorry, sorry!” I said, surprised the wrinkled scholar was upright. “Are you okay?” Then glancing around the ground: “Didya drop anything?”
“Yes, thank you. I am fine. And, no, I never drop anything. Sorry for your trouble,” he replied, smiling with a twinge to his lip. He tucked the book under his arm. What an odd man. And where is his accent? I suppose Narvi barely has an accent either… I found myself staring at his straw fedora as he continued on his path. Get to Jartse! Spence, you need to get used to this! You're going to be working for the rest of your life after all… I brushed these thoughts away as I located the captain's conspicuous coat through the chaos. It was no doubt custom-tailored with his brick build and the shiny golden buttons adorning the navy outfit. I leveled my bandana. Got to look good in front of the boss.
“Captain, sir! I was told to–er… What orders do you have?” I said, straightening up. He frowned. He never had liked me. Too much of a boulder, that one, formidable and unfeeling. After a moment, he spoke to the people around him, relaying instructions, first in Daren (incomprehensibly), then in Humein:
“I am leading the hunts–We are to catch trap and hunt animals on the island–Weapons are over there” He gestured to the crate of harpoons. “We will pair up and go–Just like normal hunting,” he explained with a heavy accent, all the words spilling out as one in a controlled swath of sound. He assigned partners until I was the only one left, which only served to worsen his mood. He took a harpoon. I eyed the crate but thought better of it and unsheathed my wood gouge instead.
We struck out together toward the hills in the distance, keeping a constant eye out for skittering critters on our way. I worked on whittling a simple deadfall trap out of fallen branches as we walked in silence. Then Captain Jartse and his meaty mitts stopped me mid-step and mid-carve. There was an animal ahead–we hadn’t been spotted. The animal was about my height and had fur fading from tan in the front to black in the back. It’s stout trunk was hanging down sniffing a fruit. The quadruped’s head twisted around… then a mouth on the opposite side of the head started eating the fruit! Fascinating! The head has a trunk on one end and a mouth on the other! The creature appeared so perfectly carefree, no responsibilities at all. What would THAT be like? To not have responsibilities to weigh you down? I stood there transfixed, watching. Wondering. Then a harpoon shot through its neck.
“NO!” I stumbled back. Jartse followed through. The majestic animal spurted glistening red blood over the dark green grass. Its eyes widened. It let out a hopeless whine, ending in a guttural flub from the trunk. It toppled over with a thud onto the grass. Just like that. Jartse walked toward his kill. I glared up at his insensitive face.
“Why!?”
He shrugged, “We are hunting–And the scholars will be happy–Maybe they’ll give more.”
“B-but what about beauty! The Gardener's creation?!”
“The Gardener doesn’t pay me,” He said with a dark monotony. He hefted the limp animal over his broad shoulder holding it in place with one hand, harpoon clutched in the other. I clenched my arms together in front of me and stood up, carving blade in one hand, trap sticks in the other. From then on I alerted animals of our presence with the occasional branch snap or rock throw. You never have made a good hunter, have you, Spence?
We walked on, and the slope steepened as we reached the hills. They were not large, maybe slightly bigger than your average meadow hill. Gazing through the orange leaf canopies, we saw the ocean in all directions. Woah, the island is… maybe as big as Kilttown? A little bigger?
“Wow!”
“Hmmmm.” Jartse gazed out. Maybe he isn’t completely unfeeling.
I hooked my pack on a branch and tightening my bandana, attempted to climb one of the trunks to get a better view. Low branch-jump-grab-swing-legs-aaand… hooked! Yes! I heaved the rest of my body up and maneuvered over to reach my pack again. Up the maroon branches, I slithered. I remembered the many times I had done this with my little sister, and I felt a little guilty about reverting to old habits. I had just reached the top when my eye caught something slipping out of my pack. What is this? Maintaining three points of contact, I slid it out of its precarious position and hoisted it up… A focus! What on Arret? It isn’t Narvi’s focus (hers had intricate engravings, definitely self-carved), so whose is it and how did I get it? The focus was bottle-sized and had a belt loop on the small end, accompanied by the initials S.M. Wait, this is perfect! I can use it to view the island from up here! Even though I didn’t have any tsiji roots to amplify my sight, the focus’ tube shape should help me focus on objects in the distance. I stood up to try it out, left hand grabbing the branch above me.
I focused on the landfall beach and found the small landing vessels and a decent amount of people doing… just their jobs. Scribe and Poivel had set up a cataloging station to organize the wilderness findings. Crew members were unloading @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189) branches from the blanketed boxes in preparation for the cool night. Lackluster piles of fruits, animals, and spruits were forming off to the side as people came and dropped off their findings. They smiled, chatted, and did their duties. How? So casual and without clumsy mishaps. They even seem to be having fun! You need to learn that, Spence. Dad can’t provide for Mom and Nat much longer… Just ask the scholars how they are content with such repetition! They’re smart.
I sighed, situating the focus back into the pocket, and surveyed the island as a whole. It was long and rectangular, though not without curves and bumps along the coast. From up here I could see the dropoff that Narvi had been so surprised by. I remember her up in the nest hollering about that lack of obstacles; of course the scholars had viewed the ease of access as a good omen for their impromptu mission. On the landing vessels, Narvi told me how there are always rocks, banks, and currents to watch for when approaching land. It almost appeared floating due to the lack of any slope and the sudden drop-off under the clear waters she had explained.
My vision zoomed and I was met with a sudden sense of vertigo as I stared into the infinite abysses on either side of me. I was struck off-balance, took a step back, and forgetting I was high in a tree, fell off the branch. *SNAP*. Nwaery don’t take me! My back slammed into the ground.
“HURGGHH!” My muscles stiffened as various body parts reported intense pain. Is anything broken? That is always the first thing to check for. My back kept pounding in pain, but I could move everything. There was scarlet blood all over me. The stench of metal and gore was overpowering, and… Blood is spreading across my body! From where? Where did I get cut? Only a fatal wound could produce so much blood! That creature Jartse killed flashed in my vision, dying again. NO! Not like that! Then…
A big drop of blood splattered across my forehead, clearing my thoughts. What…? From above? The stub of the broken branch had dripped blood on me! The stub was flailing around as if in pain. I, bones aching and clothes bloodied, propped myself back up.
“What? Plants? Bleeding PLANTS?” I picked up the gnarled, broken branch and sniffed the wound. That IS blood! The nauseating metallic smell permeated my nostrils. The soft bark near the wound was writhing! Breaking itself off and dropping to the dirt to worm around. Like maggots. Several bits landed on my sandalled feet. “By Wadgewin’s sword!” I kicked them off “What IS this plant?” Though my every muscle wanted me to dispose of this horror, I was intent on bringing it back for study. Call it morbid fascination.
What kind of island grows plants that bleed? I suppose plants would need good reasons to switch to blood. Dead animals? No, it wouldn’t be enough. Can’t be mushrooms, either. What if this island already had blood in place? That would make the island… Of course! The odd stuff I’ve seen would make more sense…The sand! The dropoff! It works! Yes!
With the gnarled writhing staff in hand, I picked up my blue bandana and analyzed my surroundings in a new light.
I found myself alone. Where’s Jartse? Oh… no… You did it again, Spence! You ignored orders and went off daydreaming! Then… a small, comforting part of me spoke up. A part of me that I had been restricting: No, Spence. You were partners and he saw exactly what you were doing. If it was your fault, why was he the one who left? He never even warned you. Hmmm. Yeah. I shouldn’t blame myself for him leaving.
Wait, this is a great opportunity! I have no one to tell me what to do! I could go explore without consequence! The idea was tempting. Tantalizing, even. But should I? I could head back and help… give them this. I held up the branch. I need to be back by sunset anyway. Ehh, I’ll show it whenever I get back, besides, aren’t they discussing staying on the island? And I’ll be working the rest of my life anyway, might as well have fun while I can! Smiling, I dashed down the hill into the woods. No wonder people disappear without warning to wander the world!
Eventually, I arrived back at the beach with several oddities in tow. The bleeding branch, a gray @[jerapnyd](species:2f3393cb-01aa-4a50-812b-2b61d9a63513), and a fruit that I swear tasted fatty. Over a bucket that evening, I regretted eating them. They were weird: lumpy, vaguely crescent-shaped, and with a lavender hue. A bit of hair up top too.
A glance towards the circle of people told me that Jartse had found his way back a while ago. He had a bowl of Chef’s “food” in his hands and was talking with his crew. Scribe and Pouyvel were chatting in Humein at their table. I waved and approached them. They looked up from their conversation and @[Scribe](person:0c63808f-9508-4c41-80ac-c508cca1dd9e) motioned me forward.
“You look a fright!” He greeted me, and I supposed it was true. I was covered in blood, twigs, and dirt from my hike. Conversely, he was still wearing his straw fedora, vest, shirt, and strangely curled beard. I set my wares out on the table for inspection. Scribe’s bony fingers glided across the short fur of the @[jerapnyd](species:2f3393cb-01aa-4a50-812b-2b61d9a63513), grasping the singular tail and holding it up for Poivel to draw. He was eyeing the belly of the critter where the second tail would be on a @[jerapnyd](species:2f3393cb-01aa-4a50-812b-2b61d9a63513).
“It looks like a @[jerapnyd](species:2f3393cb-01aa-4a50-812b-2b61d9a63513)! But, like, gray, and with only one tail. They travel in packs out there, mostly on the ground. I got him with a deadfall trap.”
“It does seem like a relative! I’ll name it accordingly. Hmm, how ab–”
“Can I name it, please? I did catch it!” His eyes narrowed at me, not angry, just… protective?
“...I suppose. What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll name him Arrop, the arrogant little guy! Escaped their harpoons, but not my trap!”
@[Scribe](person:0c63808f-9508-4c41-80ac-c508cca1dd9e) exhaled and chuckled. “I’ll name the species then. How about Thapnyd? That would be retaining the daren root of @[jerapnyd](species:2f3393cb-01aa-4a50-812b-2b61d9a63513), or -pnyd, meaning the thin pelt, while replacing the jera-, two-tails, with tha-, gray, changing the descriptor to be correct while maintaining a root connection. Sound good?” he smiled. What? Does that make sense? He talks so fast!
“Uh… Yeah–sure. You seem to have thought it all out!”
“Yes–yes. Now on to this…” He trailed off as he turned his attention to the bloody branch I held as a staff.
“We have had many reports of bleeding plants from others, but you are the first to bring one back for us. That–”
“YES! I knew it was important! Do you have any idea about how–why the plants use blood here? And why only some? The grass doesn’t. Could it be a…” I didn’t dare suggest my idea (this man wasn’t just A scholar. He was THE scholar!).
“We propose that it is simply their way of living. Animals use blood, the mintish people use leaves and blood, why not plants that use blood as well?” It made sense. Scribe took a strip of cloth from beneath the table and gently rubbed the dried blood off for closer inspection. The bark had stopped wriggling by now; it just looked like a normal bit of plant with red veins running through green and orange stalk. He wrapped it in the cloth and set it in the pile of things.
As Poivel finished her sketch of Arrop, Scribe focused on the lumpy fruit. They were about a forearm in length, so there was a good amount of food there.
“They taste fatty, and they came from one of those bleeding plants, so I thought… meaty fruit? Maybe the plants–”
“Is this all you found? Just the three?”
“Uhm…”
“You were out there longer than everyone else…Though I suppose I should admit you brought back unique items.”
“Uh… I–I got distracted. Sorry, I–I’ll…” I trailed off, noticing Scribe had once again shifted his gaze, this time toward the focus peeking out of an open pocket of my bag. I slid it out and proffered it.
“Oh! Uh, I found it in my bag out there. It’s not Narvi’s, but it’s not mine either–It’s a focus!” I said. He reached for it, lifting it from my hand.
“It is mine,” he said, an inscrutable expression nestled between his wrinkles.
I shrugged, “No idea how it got there. But it was useful, so… thanks?” He hmphed with… satisfaction? Huh. Weird. How DID I get it in the first place? Maybe… I remembered my idea, asking: “How do you like your jobs so much? Doesn’t it get boring after a while? All this hard thinking and analysis?” Poivel looked up from her sketch of the fruit, blond hair retreating behind her head, and gray eyes wide.
“Well... I suppose I–” @[Scribe](person:0c63808f-9508-4c41-80ac-c508cca1dd9e) started, but was cut off by an exuberant Poivel.
“I find ways to glorify the Gardener in everything! Usually, I do that by finding ways to make it interesting, and fun! I mean, art is always fun, but there are only so many nostrils one can draw before you find them boring. So I have learned to make each one I do unique! And when I can’t do that, I can use the time to plan out other projects and then there’s—”
“Whoa–wait. You create extra projects for yourself?” I asked, “That’s making more work. Doesn’t sound fun.”
“No! Personal projects. It means when I eventually get around to doing the projects I know exactly what to do and how I want it done! It saves me a lot of time and energy while making sure I am working my hardest for the Gardener all the time! It is also challenging, though. I try, but it doesn’t always work, and so sometimes I must simply endure the work until I can have fun again,” She said, sighing. I tapped my crossed arms as she spoke.
“Hmm…Well, that’s certainly more a positive way to think. Does it work?” She nodded emphatically. @[Scribe](person:0c63808f-9508-4c41-80ac-c508cca1dd9e) jotted away, grumbling something about “feelings,” as I made my way over to the @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189) circle, pondering what she said. I sat on the sweaty sand and listened in on their conversation.
“No, you don’t understand! Captain, we need more time to study this island! It is a miracle of biology!” Said the scholar. More time? To study? Oh! I want to help here! To stay!
“I can’t be later to Kotodel than I am now–This is final.” Jartse’s voice was fluid and deep. I glanced up, checking the time, and it was about mid-afternoon. He was right.
“Would you consider this…” The scholar took a deep breath. “You leave tonight, and we study it–here–on our own. We would survive off the land–the fruit here is huge!” He spread his arms for emphasis. That’s true too! It wouldn’t be difficult at all.
“No. You lot would neglect responsibilities in favor of studies–Besides, you have no…” he searched for the word “–past surviving in the wild scholar.”
“True, we have no experi–”
“What if we appointed a leader, one to dish out said responsibilities?” Narvi chimed in from the other side of the simmering @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189).
“I cannot spare one of my high members!”
“With the proper respect, you can spare me, Captain, and you know it.”
Jartse stood up, towering over the seething pile of snapped @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189) bits, and said: “Nester–You gave your sailor’s oath to the crew–Why have second thoughts now?” He spoke slowly and metered. Narvi stood up to face him across the @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189); focus in one hand, carving knife in the other.
“You know that I am not needed. All you need for a nester these days is some tsiji root and a basic seafaring vocabulary. Not rare,” She averted her eyes and spit in the @[skreekle](species:ee4e3528-b11e-43d3-ac74-8f4fd2483189). A sizzle of steam rose. Without considering, I said:
“Could I stay too?” and I swear Jartse’s eyes could’ve harpooned me straight through if their intensity manifested. Narvi’s reaction, however, was the one I focused on. She cocked her head and forced a smile, a slight one that said: “No, Spence. I am sorry, but please don’t.” My shoulders slumped. No! Don’t give up that easily!
Thinking, I began to rock back in the sand. You can help! You could even prove your theory! You CAN’T be rejected by another employer already! There must be a way!
Then I leaned forward. I am getting a job in Kotodel! That was the plan, and working can be fun! I know that now. I simply can’t abandon fathers request like this!
I rocked backward again. No, the plan was to figure out what you were going to do with yourself! Here you CAN do something, for certain! And you know you want to be with her…
I leaned forward. Yes, but she doesn’t feel the same, and I have a responsibility to my family; I can’t leave them! I will sustain a job and provide for them. I will keep my promise, even if I miss an opportunity on the way. I sat leaning forward as I spoke:
“Alri–ight…” I cut the word out. It is going to be okay. Narvi is happier on the island. Jartse is happy that I will be off his back, and… and am I happy? An idea came into focus, one thing I could do to aid both in my desire to study this mysterious island and Narvi’s desire to lead it. I stood up straight as a bust, took a deep breath, and said “I suggest, Captain, that you let Narvi lead this envoy,” Jartse’s face deepened. “I have found that people who want to lead, will, one way or another,” Narvi was nodding in agreement. “And besi–” –des I really want to study this island! Is what I would’ve said if Jartse didn’t interrupt.
“Narvi’s oath demands she stay with the crew! I will not have her absence blemish my record!” His watery voice started to wave, giving unusual emphasis’.
“The Tcheen isn’t a country, Captain. If I abandon the crew, I will just be barred from shipping. It isn’t a punishable crime,” Narvi said. Jartse's eyes glowered from under his eyebrows.
I carved more into it with: “In addition to that, this arrangement could be very profitable for you… I am sure the scholars are willing to pay extra for the added inconvenience,” I gestured to the sitting scholars, who fidgeted with wooden bowls of mush, but a couple of nods arose. “And we will all agree to assist your crew in packing up crates,” It wasn’t much, but it was the only other offer I could make. I watched his face. His frown deepened, then reverted to one of concentration, and finally a bit of curiosity peeked through! Gardener, please let it work! He motioned Scribe over with a massive hand.
“Scribe come let's discuss terms away from the group–I will allow an envoy to stay if you offer adequate compensation,” then he looked straight at me and added, “Assuming of course that you hold up your end.” That worked? Praise The Gardener and Efin! He made his way to the treeline to discuss terms with Scribe. The remaining scholars and crew members stood up and made their way to the wooden vessels to begin loading them up as requested. I grinned at Narvi and she smiled back! It was a smile as wide as the seas, one that was earned. I gave her a mock salute, with a flamboyant loop of the fingers at the end, as one might do at the end of a show. One finishing touch…
“Well, I guess this is goodbye?”
She sighs, “I suppose so… I do hope to see you again, but…”
“Yeah… I know. But, this island will be great for you!”
“Well, no it's not that. I guess… I guess I don’t know what it is. I still have things to figure out, but this position should help me out,” she brushed loose hair back looking toward the horizon. “Thank you Spence.”
“Well… good luck! I hope to see you again after your inevitable success on this island!” She laughed awkwardly, but I felt it as a warm fuzzy sensation in my soul. Like it was the farewell I subconsciously wanted.
“Well, I hope to see you after your inevitable success as a negotiator! Where did that even come from?” I chuckled and took a deep breath, holding out my hand.
“Shake on it? Seeing each other after all this?”
“Of course, Spence! Of course.” We shook. I glanced back toward the foliage. I was leaving both of them behind: Narvi and the island. Bittersweet to be sure, but I had to with different reasons for both. So, I ran off to help load up the piles of fruits and corpses destined for the ship in the distance. As I did, I inspected my mental state, brushing away the dust of remaining thoughts, and finding an imperfect, but better me looking out.
I scribbled the last few lines down: “Before I end, I must make two things clear. First, I implore The Tcheen to spread the word of this moving island to all their captains to aid Captain Jartse on his quest for the island. Second, if you need more information, send to me at the address printed on the back. I submit myself to your investigation, that we may find the island together.” I prayed a quick prayer that this letter would help, and signed off.
“Thank you for your time,
Spence Lamberly,
Kotodelten Carpenter”
