Orbis

Chapter 6: River Aasim

The moon held it's gaze over the city of Nactin. Its blue light glinted off of the pale river that ran down the market. A waterway. The waterway that made Nactin the center of trade in the South. River Aasim.

My ticket out of here, Abdullah ibn Ahmed thought. He watched as the traders rowed back to Firvo, Mayas, Qirto, and Centra. Of course, they wouldn't row for long. After exiting the city, the waterway would split into paths to those kingdoms and city-states. And the current would take them the rest of the way. However, Abdullah wasn't looking for sanctuary. He was looking for something more. Something greater.

Power.

Power, that is what I need. Not men. Not resources. Raw energy. Lightning. Smite. Yes. Abdullah ibn Ahmed, a 13-year-old boy, wanted nothing more than power. And he would do anything to get. Or, so he thought.

Abdullah waited atop a burnt house. One of the many abandoned ones. But, it's roof was stable enough to hold his hefty body. His arms were long and thick, like oak logs. He dug them into his torn loin pant's pockets. Hoping to give them some amount of warmth. Nactin may have been hell in the morning. But at night, the weather was akin to the Dragon Continent. The winds chilled Abdullah to the bone. Of course, having a shirt would've helped. But, as Abdullah constantly reminded himself, the homeless don't get a choice.

So, the olive-skinned boy stood atop the charred home, waiting for his opportunity. The perfect opportunity. He had planned this out for a while. 4 days ago, he spotted the house next to the waterway. The house that he sat upon. 3 days ago, he took note of the militia's schedule. How they operated. When they changed shifts. That was important. He knew that even if he smuggled himself onto one of the many trader boats, they would still check his number. If they found that he was from Nactin, they would kill him. No Nactinians could leave. Not since the demon took his place as king.

But when the shift changed, that would be his opportunity.

They would be too busy chatting to realize that Abdullah had stolen the Centranonian wool trader's oar boat. And, when they did realize, he would be long gone. The perfect plan. A plan 2 years in the making.

Finally, tonight is the night. Tonight, I leave this hell.

Abdullah kept his head low, watching below him as the guards mingled and waved their spears. Amateurs. They're newer. But they're about to be replaced by the old guard. So, when the shift happens, in... two minutes? Yeah. In two minutes I can make my move. The guards, all 7 of them, tended to the line of merchant oar boats. The Nactinian market was closing, and as a result, all of the remaining merchants were forced to leave at once. Causing quite a bit of traffic on the waterway that could only fit one boat with its width.

The air smelled of sweet sugar and intoxicating spices. They made Abdullah's stomach roar. First, escape. Then food. He reasoned. With that, his body quieted and he continued to watch as the boats were let through the city's waterway exit.

River Aasim was not man-made. But, many had thought that it was because of its peculiar shape and its continent-spanning length. Most nations built around the river because of its prime trade route. Though, Abdullah didn't care about that too much. He wasn't going to escape as far as Centrica. He would get off halfway and roam the desert for a nomadic tribe. Or at least, someplace where he could eat. If I got off at Centrica, they would probably hang me. They don't take a liking to thieves.

Finally, the militia group left the boats in favor of the alleys. The shift. It's happening now. Abdullah made meticulous, slow steps down the sloping roof of the house. Slow, and methodical, he had no room to slip up. If he did, the noise would attract the militia. And if the militia thought he was being suspicious, they could kill him. Of course, some militiamen were more... merciful than others. But the kind ones were a rarity. The militiamen of Nactin were comparable to rats. Those who sold their soul to the demon for wealth and protection. They can all burn in hell.

Finally, after two grueling minutes, Abdullah finished his descent from the roof. He kept to the shadows, letting the blanket of darkness seal his form. Abdullah knew that if he wasn't careful, he'd be caught in an instant. After all, Abdullah wasn't exactly a subtle figure. His body was well built. More built than many other boys in Nactin. But that's to be expected for a farmer boy. The old militia guards emerged from the alleyways. The shift is ending. Now is the time. Abdullah sprinted low across the sandstone path along the waterway. The merchants took no notice to him, too busy marking up their profits. And, even if they did notice him, Abdullah thought that they wouldn't particularly care. Merchants only came to Nactin for trade. Not to be some do-gooders or to rat out criminals.

Abdullah strained his eyes looking for an unpacked oar boat. Or at least, an unmanned oar boat. He found one, thankfully, at the end of the line. A small, flimsy, but stable oar boat with barely any supplies on it. And no occupants. Abdullah's dry lips curled into a wide smile. Luck. Finally, some luck. Whatever the case, nobody had occupied the oar boat. It was a common occurrence for merchants to hitch a ride with their friends and leave an oar boat behind. Though Abdullah had no idea what happened to the owner of this particular oar boat, he didn't really care.

He quickened his pace and jumped atop the oar boat with careless excitement. The impact of his feet hitting the bottom of the boat made quite a splash. Yet, the guards didn't seem to notice. Too busy with their designation of roles, the militiamen would often let a few boats go during their shifts.

Abdullah kept his eye out for any watchful militiamen while grabbing hold of the hefty oars. Thankfully, the manual labor that was required of tilling made him accustomed to the hard task ahead of him. But, in his mind, the near-impossible part was close to its completion. All he had to do was row.

A scream.

A shout.

A cry for help.

He heard it. He heard it. They all heard it. Every merchant. Every guardsman. They hesitated. They hesitated. But they just went back to their duties. The merchants kept counting their new products and earnings. The militiamen kept designating their roles. But the cries for help didn't stop. The screams didn't stop. Ignore it. Ignore it. If you leave now, you lose this opportunity. You lose your opportunity to escape. Don't do it. Don't do it. Abdullah clenched the oars tightly, his knuckles whitening. The boats ahead of him began to move forward. And he rowed. Yet the screams kept coming.

Someone else will deal with it. Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignor-

Abdullah dropped the oars and jumped back onto the sandstone road that ran along the river. He sprinted off towards the cries, muttering several colorful curses.