World Leapers Book I: The Forest

The Beach

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It was the radiating warmth from the kiss of the morning sun against the skin on his forehead, cheeks and bare arms that finally woke Terran. In stark contrast to the soft, wet sand and moist morning dew seeping through the cloak under his backside, the sun's rays penetrated deep into his chilled body and cold blood vessels, radiating deep, warm, red energy throughout his entire torso, all the way into the hard bones in the back lower part of his head.

He opened his eyes and squinted into the sun, then turned his head slightly to the right. Aria lay beside him. Her eyes were also now open, staring at the sun. She didn't seem to notice Terran was awake, so for a moment, he simply watched her big brown eyes staring up into the peaceful sky. He smiled, then rolled over and realized he was lying on his back in the sand near the port, very near to where he, Tink and River had originally beached the old dinghy from The Devil.

Terran sat up at the sound of a murmur of voices coming from far to the left. He turned his head to scan the port. Descending down the ramps of three merchant ships in the center of the harbor was an extended line of men, women, children, families, and the occasional awkwardly tall and out-of-place Kateawan ambling amongst them. Both the humans and Kateawans were no longer chained or shackled, but instead strolling free as they smiled and whooped, some ascending back up towards the cobblestones roads of the port, and other simply collapsing on their backs on the wet sand of the beach, soaking up the welcome rays of morning sunshine.

Towards the top of the ramp, in the boat closest to him, Terran spotted two familiar figures. One was a tall, thin elf, clutching a chain cropper like a set of giant garden shears and surrounded by a pile of cut chains. As a man, his wife and three children approached him, Tink placed the cropper between the father's ankles and, neck muscles bulging and forearms straining, sheared the man's chains free, then repeated for the man's hands and wrists. Watching as Tink turned to free the man's family, a small, fat blemper leaned against the rail, his mouth stained with a blue-ish purple berry color, and a very large, flaking pastry clutched in his hand. He beamed and nodded at the freed prisoners as they descended from the boat.

"Tink! Chipper!" Still sitting on the sand, Terran waved at them. Behind him, he heard Aria stir and sit up at the sound of his loud shouting. The elf looked up, nodded, smiled and casually raised both hands in a double salute. "Wut-ho young friends! Your brother and sister are already exploring - you've some catching up to do!" Tink pointed far down the beach to their right, away from the boats. Both Terran and Aria turned to look in the direction he was pointing.

Far down the sand, over a hundred yards away, were two figures: a boy in a black cloak and a girl with long, dark hair. Terran squinted and frowned. For a moment it looked as though the two were touching hands. Holding hands. He wrinkled his nose in disgust, then saw that the two were inspecting something on the ground. He stood and grabbed Aria by the shoulder. "C'mon! Let's go see them!"

Aria stiffened for a moment at his touch on her shoulder and leaned away. She looked back towards Wisp's hut and her eyes clouded with sadness. Terran stepped back and watched as a tear slid down her cheek. Then he remembered. He felt a pain deep in his stomach as he thought of the night before: of Kull, the flying mother scithrin and the sight of the beheaded King Empyreas.

He fumbled for words. "I'm sorry. I'm s-s-orry. I know...your father...I know it's horrible–"

She turned back to him and squinted into the sun, her eyes still filled with mist. "It isn't horrible. Tamar warned us." She stopped and her lips trembled as she spoke Tamar's name. "Dear, dear Tamar warned us. Our existence is a cycle of life and death. It is natural. And his spirit–" She looked to the sky. "–his spirit and her spirit will always be with us. And Mother's. Father and Tamar would not want us to turn victory into sadness."