Cycle of the Stars

Prologue: A Sailor's Story

The sun shone brightly above the galleon as Lorn paced the deck. He didn't understand why the sun brought him such comfort but watching the shadows dance away from the light always seemed to settle his nerves.

They were only a week away from making land off the coast of Vokria, at least that's what Darilus, the ship's captain had promised.

Should the Savior see it happen, thought Lorn, left hand clutching the 9-pointed star hanging around his neck.

He had more wealth and power than most men could ever want yet the rusted Savior's star remained his most valuable possession. That and his blade of course, and the winter coat his wife Lyra had gotten him.

Lorn's heart began to ache when he thought of her, the woman who taught a member of the Templars what love meant.

"Should the Savior see it happen," muttered Lorn thinking of Lyra's health.

"You Templars do nothin' but pray eh?"

Lorn turned to look at Darilus, the portly captain appeared to be several drinks deep and the sun was still high.

"Prayer is what gives us our strength" replied Lorn.

"Aye, prayer and those nasty blades the each of ya carries."

Lorn would have laughed if they hadn't had the same exchange the last three days.

"You have news for me captain?" he asked

"Nothin important commander," Darilus replied, "Some uh the men are playing shoots in the dining hall, does a commander good to show he cares for his men."

"You think I don't care for them?" Lorn asked.

"Nae, I think you're awful at showin it."

Lorn sighed and fidgeted with the sleeves on his shirt, it was true but to hear the words from a second-rate merchant hurt.

"Very well, however, there will be no betting on the game. To profit off the loss of another is one of the 9 wrongs."

"Yes, sir commander!" Darilus shouted as he made a mocking salute.

The two of them were nearly at the dining hall when Lorn heard the raucous laughter reverberating from the room. To most such sounds would be inviting but to Lorn they were a reminder of the life he would never live.

Darilus must have noticed his apprehension and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You walk in with a face like that and you'll scare the fun right out of 'em. Smile aye."

How easy it must be for him Lorn thought, looking at the smile that always remained plastered to Darilus' face.

"Well damn, I was just messin' with ya, if looks could kill I'd be in paradise right now." the captain laughed.

"Sorry, I was just... thinking about stuff," Lorn finished awkwardly.

"Don't sweat it, get some drinks in ya and you'll come right outta that shell. I'm sure."

The drunk faces of his men and a few sailors greeted Lorn when he stepped into the hall. A dozen or so men sat around the wooden table holding the wood cubes used in shoots.

"Sir!" His men saluted, though more than one tripped over themself as they tried to stand.

"At your leisure," replied Lorn, "I heard there was a game of shoots, I'm not too bad myself."

"No need to be humble," laughed Darilus, "You just told me you could beat these shits blindfolded didn't ya?"

"Did I?"