The Disjointed Tales Of Renryre Island

01-2: The Bloodied Sands [continued]

A few days later, Madrik was lying on his back, watching the stars restlessly wandering above him. One of them appeared to be chasing another. Halfway across the sky they sped before the chaser caught up, and then they both stopped. A few more stars gathered around them. Legend had it that the gods were watching from above. As far as Madrik could tell, they were just as lost as he was.

His ankle was much better already, the swelling having receded. His wounds likewise were healing well. Nothing of note had happened since the old man had awoken him from his foray into Lytette's oasis. Madrik had lain on his back while his succourer had fed him, checked his wounds, and occasionally rambled about city folk needing to stay in city. Madrik cared little for the conversation, but was grateful for the aid. He hadn't even learned the old man's name, though he suspected they had little use for someone living in solitary.

Madrik wasn't too concerned. He would be far from the desert soon enough, and on his way to see Tailfin. The old crime lord would get what was coming to him.

The sun was beginning to brighten the sky, and the stars were settling down for the day. The old man returned from wherever he had wandered off to, producing something resembling a starved rabbit and, after skinning it, hung it over the fire.

Madrik wasn't going to question the source, he ate it happily enough.

"You should get some sleep today," said the old man. "Tonight we leave. We will make for Lexlish Pass."

"Lexlish Pass?"

"Best way through the mountains."

"Why don't we head to the coast and catch a boat round?"

"I don't take boats any more," said the old man. "When I was young, I stole a boat and rowed over to the Renryre Island. Had a few too many in a tavern that night, and followed those up with a few more. Next morning I woke up and the mainland was nowhere to be seen."

Madrik didn't push it. Old people liked to tell stories about the mainland.

"Went searching for it for a while," he continued unprompted. "Years in fact. Made a lot of friends, and lost most of them to the sea. The mainland is gone, and those who spend their lives looking for it die soon enough."

"That's why you are out here?" asked Madrik.

He only shrugged, and pulled the canopy over the camp site.

"Best you get some sleep."

Madrik closed his eyes, hoping he might get a visit from Lytette. He opened his eyes barely a moment later as the evening was drawing the sun low, disappointed that he had spent his long dreams alone. He sat up to find the camp site half packed already, the old man watching him impatiently. Taking the hint he stood up, smiling as he found his ankle felt much stronger.

They set off following the sunset, leaving Madrik to wonder how the old man could navigate the desert at night. By the sound of it he had lived there for a decade or more, he probably knew the landmarks well enough.

They reached the mountains after a few nights' walk. Most of the mountains in the range looked as dry as the desert, save for a single valley which spilt greenery into the sands below it. The way in. The only way, as far as Madrik could tell.

The climb was difficult. He would have struggled even if his ankle had been in perfect condition. The old man never complained. Didn't say much at all, just grunted occasionally. It was not until they reached the top of the pass that he finally spoke.

"I've brought you this far, you can make your way to Helen's Bay from here," he said.

He pointed towards the bay below. Helen's Bay, the only safe haven for fisherman when the weather came in. Overcrowded by far, the smell of fish and sewers mingled to create an almost unbearable stench, only cured when the wind blew. The fishing villages within the bay had grown over the years. They became towns, and before long they had all more or less merged into one large city skirting the inside of the bay, which acquired the name of the bay itself.