Ok so this is another story that I'm testing, and it was basically inspired by a song that I heard called The Opposite Side of The Sea, by Oren Lavie. I don't really like this first chapter, I think it's one of the worst I've ever written, but it needs to be uploaded for the rest of the story anyway. I would really really really love to have some reviews! I know that the story may not make much sense at first, but trust me, everything will be explained in due course! *On the opposite side of the blue On the opposite side of the sea you'll find her Reach your hand out …On the opposite side of the sea*
Some people are waving at you
They say it is love that they've got
You're almost convinced but you're not
But the waves will pull you under
On the opposite side of the sea you'll find her
But the waves will pull you under
Someone'll take it
Strip you down and leave you naked
That's what they do to strangers, you see…
That's what they do to strangers, you see…
1.
On Karadicas Island, the heat was so extreme that the three young men decided that they would be quick in bargaining for supplies for their ship. Even they, who were so used to spending many days being embraced by the sun's rays, found that the huge ball of fire in the sky had decided to be unbearable that day.
When they had bought everything that they had thought was needed, they trudged their way through the deep sand of the beach, spotting the Golden Oracle in the distance.
"There's no better ship than our oracle," the first man claimed.
"No finer crew either," the second man agreed.
They carried on walking through the sand, their arms full with little boxes and sacks of produce, and it was only as they were getting closer to their little boat that they spotted him.
A man, lying in the sand and letting himself burn in the sun.
They were cautious to approach him, a little bit anxious that he may be an Avenger or a pirate, but his ripped shirt revealed that his collar bone held no mark. He belonged to no one.
"Do you think he is dead?"
"I don't know."
One of the men lightly kicked him with his boot, waiting for a reaction, but there was none.
"Feel for a heartbeat."
The same man dropped the sacks he was carrying and put his hand on the stranger's heart.
"It's beating- he's alive, though only just, I would presume."
The three men looked at each other, and their faces registered the same thought.
"What do we do with him?"
The first man, perhaps the most compassionate of the three, took a good look at the man lying in the sand. His skin was almost red with sunburn, his bronzed hair was matted and sticking to his forehead, and his clothes were soaked to the skin.
"We can't leave him here. The Islanders will be here soon enough, and they'll kill him."
"That's definitely true," the second man agreed. "Besides, he's burning to a crisp."
The third man, who was the most wary of the three of them, said nothing for a while, and simply stared at the man for a few moments.
"Fine," he finally muttered. "I'm sure the Orla will appreciate a new shipmate."
****
The crew members were all waiting for them once they'd returned
"Out of the way! Out of the way!" the first man called when they reached the ship, pushing some of them aside.
"You took your time," one of them muttered as they went past.
"And who's this?" another asked, pointing to the man that they were carrying along with them.
"A handsome man no doubt," one of the female crew members commented. "Where did you find him?"
"How do you know he's not a pirate, or one of them?" Another asked.
"He holds no mark," the second man told them. "Now move out of the way, we're showing him to the Orla."
When the three men entered the grand cabin a young woman, who could not have passed the age of twenty-one, was watching them carefully. At first she looked relieved to see them, but then her expression changed to one of surprise when she saw the young man they were carrying.
"What in Anshu's name?"
"We found him, Orla, by the beach," the first man informed.
"He's got no mark, my Lady, he doesn't belong to anyone," the third man added, knowing very well that that would be the Orla's first thought. "He was dying and we thought it would be cruel to leave him, who knows what the Islanders would have done with him?"
There was a long moment of silence while the Orla continued to stare at the man, lying unconsciously in their arms.
"Well then men," she said after much thought, "I am glad that you brought him, for we all know how dangerous these Islands have become, and an unmarked man is so greatly at risk. Take him to one of the cabins downstairs, and make sure the doctor sees him. You can also go and tell the captain that we're ready to set sail."
"Certainly, my lady," the first man obeyed, and then the three of them left without another word.
When Rowan opened his eyes the first thing he saw was a wooden ceiling that was dimly glowing in candle-light. He was somehow moving, but he couldn't quite work out how- and when he tried to move there was a dull aching sensation that he felt throughout his entire body.
What's going on? He thought, trying to get a better look around.
His eyes roamed around the small room that he was in. It was rather bare, with nothing but whatever bed he was lying in and a small table that a candle was placed on.
Why is this room moving?
He tried to sit up but his body felt so numb that he couldn't manage it, and what's more, he felt unmistakeably warm in whatever room he was in. He looked to his left and there was a tiny circular shaped window high up on the wall, showing nothing but the dark blue of an evening sky.
At the sound of a door opening, Rowan wasn't sure whether or not to pretend to still be asleep. He shut his eyes regardless and listened to soft footsteps approaching his bed. A warm hand touched the dry skin of his forehead.
"His temperature's going, at least," a woman's voice said. "He's been at rest for so long now, when is he going to wake up, do you think?"
"Who knows?" a man's voice responded. "We have no idea what happened to him, he might be out cold for days. Here, take this."
There was silence whilst Rowan tried to understand what was going on, and at the feel of something very cold on his cheek his eyes shot open.
"Oh! He's awake, Achai!"
There was a young woman staring at him, with green eyes and skin that looked as if it had been bronzed by sunlight. Beside her there stood a man who looked around the same age, and his dark eyes looked concerned, almost wary of him. He had an altogether different appearance, with reddish-brown sin and jet-black hair that was straight and went all the way down to his lower back.
"Hello," the woman greeted him with a kind tone. "My name is Sancia, this is Achai."
She pointed to the man standing beside her. Rowan said nothing.
"We're crew members," she continued. "We're helping to look after you."
Crew members? He thought, and then it made sense. He was on a ship.
What am I doing on a ship?
"You were found on the shore of an Island," the man told him, as if reading his mind. "Do you know how you got there?"
Rowan tried to think back to whenever it was he may have been found. His mind was blank.
At the lack of response, the man and the woman looked at each other.
"Here," the woman passed him the cold thing that he'd felt touch his cheek. "These are some cold towels, since it's so hot on this ship. Is there anything else we can get you?"
Rowan shook his head.
"Right, well, we'll leave you now. We'll come back to check on you, when you feel more comfortable."
They shared another anxious look and then left the room. Rowan was left alone once more, and there was only one thing that he could think while he pressed the cold towel to his face.
He was a long way from home.