Mind Of A Murderer

Mind Of A Murderer

PART I

THE EXPEDITION

                                                                                                                      7-13-1499

        Today is the day that my countrymen and I leave this beautiful, bountiful country behind. I am consumed by the tickling flames of anticipation and excitement, yet I am scared of what I may find on this "New World" that Columbus spoke endlessly of since his expedition those seven long years ago. If such a tremendous continent remained hidden for so long, it's nearly impossible to say that dragons don't exist and faeries are only seen in your dreams.

      Our last day here in this pleasant land of Italy has been brimming with pop quizzes and interrogations. The families of my crew apparently do not believe that I hold the knowledge of the trade winds and the sea that I claim to possess. I understand that I may be a little- alright, a lot- younger than your average sea captain, but give me some credit! I learned from the best Italian sailor there ever was- Scipio Govianne, my ould friend who fishes for a living. He loves this country, and it took a great load of begging and groveling before I could convince him to travel to the New World with me. I'm glad that he finally chose to come along.

          We are now boarding Scipio's ould ship, The Hrynnasin, along with the rest of my crew. We all pause to take one last gaze at what we all agree is the most beautiful sunrise sweet Italy has ever seen. Its impossible beauty reminds me of my family. All my little brothers and sisters were crowded around me, each attempting to give me the last hug. They all had the same sad thought in their eyes: Will I ever see him again? I can only trust that the answer to that can be found deep in their hearts. There's always that chance that my time, like that of so many explorers, will come faster than I'd like. I open my eyes and to my surprise, there are warm tears on my cheek. The rest of the men have boarded and taken up their posts, but I can't quite bring myself to take those few steps. Salys, a man that has known me since I was just a little lad, saw my tears and put a hand on my shoulder. Seeing my pain, he drops a few tears too. The last time we've had a cry like this was years back, when Myrrh died. The three of us spent our childhood exploring the vast acreages of farmland and forest. Heh… I'll never forget that guilty pleasure of stealing apples from old Stuttgart's farm across the river. Despair ran thick as mud for months when I heard of her brutal murder. I sat weeping one day beneath the beech tree where her blood still stained the roots. The heavy tears felt like drops of acid burning a jagged hole in my heart. The excruciating pain was as horrible as that of a red-hot sword running me through over and over again. That was the moment when I swore to Myrrh's soul that I would find out why that blackhearted, bloodthirsty killer had chosen her. I prayed to all gods that they didn't choose her because she was beautiful… her deep brown eyes, honey-colored hair… I couldn't live with myself if I knew such demonic thoughts existed in the world. She despised violence, and it's ironically sad that she died such a bloody death. I know that because of her deep loathing, I couldn't hurt the killer. She explained to me once that one life taken, even her own, is never worth another. It was the solitary thing she pleaded with me to never forget. I didn't.

      Salys's scarred face was bathed in the morning sunlight, and he had a look on his face and in his eyes that told me that he was thinking the same thoughts I was. He squeezed my shoulder, and we gazed at the crowds a moment longer. We turned and boarded the ship.

        It was a beautiful day for sailing, not a cloud in the sky. The sea, smooth and glassy, reflected The Hrynnasin and her crew with shocking detail. Everyone seems to be getting along well, especially Salys and Chiron. Chiron was from South Venice and had lime green eyes, which paired quite well with his mousy brown hair and dark Southerner's complexion. He had a long history with sailing, so I invited him along. Salys and Chiron were up in the crow's nest, keeping watch. Instead of looking out to sea, Salys was instead spying on the crew when he saw me bring up our meals. "FOOD HO!" he hollered, and totally ignoring the ladder, they scrambled down the pole and raced toward me. I see a long friendship in them- their intense love for food would keep them together if nothing else would.

      The starry sky and gibbous moon supplied enough even through the tiny portholes in my cabin, so I pinched out the flame on my odorous tallow candles. Chiron and I were locked in a neck-and-neck battle. Sparks were flying between us as I considered my next move. Move my king and risk losing it, or sacrifice a knight… I looked up and he had a tanned smirk plastered to his face. Looks like that are surely not meant for his handsome face… I chose to sacrifice the knight, and his smirk exploded into an outright grin as he took my knight and king in a single blow. A child's trick, and I fell for it—I must be losing my touch, not to mention a great sum of money I betted.

      Scipio told me when I was a boy that the first of anything is always the most difficult. If he was right, then that means that this will be a difficult expedition, as it is my first. In a way, though, I hope it would be difficult. I love a good ould adventure.

        "Captain! Storm brewing due west!" I glared against the sunlight and sure enough, there were huge thunderheads heading straight for us. "Carlisle! Where is the cutoff point?" I yelled against the rising wind. "I can't see it, sir! It goes on in all directions!" So much for easy sailing… "Carlisle, come down from there! We must head straight in. Scipio, steer towards whichever area looks the weakest." I addressed the rest of my crew, "Bring all sails down and get belowdecks, but be ready to come up for rush-repair in case of damage! GO!" The deck was a flurry of activity as Scipio struggled to control the rudder and the deck hands scrambled to prepare the ship for a heavy storm. The rolling waves began to rock the ship and I joined Scipio to help maintain control. As the last man shut the hatch, the rain began to come down in torrentous sheets. Bolts of lightning lit the sky with an eerie white glow. The rudder was jerking like a living thing, and I began to fear that it may snap. "Scipio, release the wheel!" Just as I finished the sentence, we heard a sickening crack and we both released a stream of curses that would've shocked a stable boy. A monstrous thunderbolt struck starboard and lit a fire that was extinguished almost immediately by the torrents of rain. Scipio and I rushed belowdecks and informed the crew that the ship was beyond our control, and we could only protect ourselves. If this storm blew us onto the rocky coast, we were certainly done for.

        Minutes passed like hours, and the ceaseless lurching was making even my most seasoned sailor seasick. The stale, stifling air didn't help much, either. After a while, I had to inspect the ship even if the storm was still raging. I crawled on the floor—it was far too unsteady for me to walk. I peeped out the hatch and saw more scorch marks scattered about and a fire burning under an awning, protected from the rain. I rushed to grab a bucket that had filled itself with rainwater. An unnaturally large wave rocked the ship hard, and I lost my balance. The freezing water splashed over my already cold body, and thankfully the rushing seawater from the wave put out the flames. I turned in the direction that the wave came from, and there I saw something I never would've expected to see in my entire life.

        There I saw a sea dragon, coated in icy blue scales. I looked into her eyes, and I saw deep hatred and fury. She was rearing up, preparing to unleash another huge wave upon my ship. I was terrified as the descent began, looking to me almost in slow motion. It suddenly stopped its downward thrust with its head level with the portholes. I have never known what it saw. After its momentary pause, she slipped beneath the now oddly gentle waves and her mass caused the sea level to rise about six feet. She brought her head back up on the opposite side of the ship and looked at The Hrynnasin with something akin to… affection? The fury was gone from her eyes. All I could see in them now was this strange love. She went below again, and with the ship perched high on an arch in her back, began swimming in the direction of the New World.

      That night in my cabin, I realized what had happened. We had invaded the dragon's territory, and it was about to release its fury upon us by destroying the ship when it saw something that turned its rage around, and she decided to save us instead. She saved us from a storm of her own creation. When I saw the dragon, a sad resignation tools over my heart, but it was quickly overtaken by wonder. It had a sleek body covered in smooth, blue scales, and its eyes held such intelligence and depth. Others who have told tales of sea dragons described them as hateful and unintelligent. That is such a rogue and brash comment for one who has not seen a dragon before to make!

            I know now that the dragons are as real as I am. She is still transporting us, though now she has her tail wrapped around the hull. When I went down below the decks after my first encounter with the dragon, and the men were all crowed on the opposite wall from where the dragon was. I thought the ship seemed lopsided… I told them the tale of the rescue, and they too found it hard to understand. But after you saw that tail, you too would believe.

            Not long after I lay myself in bed, I began to wonder how we could get back to Italy when our expedition was complete. I'm amazed that the scorch marks, burn hole, and broken rudder are the only damages, but the rudder was vital to remain on course. We would probably have to whittle one when we reach the New World. Now if that one broke, I have no clue what would happen then – it was virtually impossible that we would be rescued by a dragon again. Be optimist – or better yet, hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

            The next day while Vincenzo and I were repairing the burn hole, we felt a lurch and change of speed. We tumbled head-over-heels and I muttered a curse and hollered, "What's going on?!!" We had lost a few of the valuable planks for repair. Cicero, who was up in the crows nest, replied by pointing to the northeast. There we saw another thunderstorm that was oddly identical to the one created by the blue dragon. There was something bloodred thrashing in the heart of the storm above the equally thrashing sea. Our dragon brought its head slowly down from the water, tensed all its muscles* [1],  and released a furious roar of challenge to the red thing I now realized was a red sky dragon. The blue ducked her head beneath the waves and brought our ship on the other side of her body, threw her head back and roared, louder this time. Now there was a distinct movement in our direction from the red's storm. The sea dragon's eyes glowed red with unfathomable hatred. The eyes flashed slightly blue again when it looked at us, with that strange affectionate look. She pulled us backwards while she coiled up like a spring. I then realized what she was going to do. She planned to fight, and she wanted us out of harms way. It released the tension and acted like a huge propeller and launched us at least a hundred feet into the air. We shot though the air while I yelled for everyone to get under cover for the landing we were about to face. Surprisingly, we descended slower than possible (possibly dragon magic) and gently glided through the water, straight into a little bay on the rocky coast that I could've sworn wasn't there before. It fitted Columbus's description, so I knew that we had finally reached the New World.



















PART II

THE NEW WORLD

      With a sickening lurch, the Hrynnasin struck the rocky coast of the New World. I gave the order to abandon ship because I was unsure of how much damage we had sustained from the collision. As I was assisting the crew in hauling food onto the luggers and lifeboats, I could vaguely see the two dark shapes and the glowing water rising up to meet the lightningbolts from the air dragon. I saw them thrashing, one in the sky, and one in the sea. I pray that neither die—dragons of all kinds are so rare, that I didn't even believe they existed 'til I saw these two with my own eyes.

        Fortunately, we sustained only a little damage and Vincenzo and I repaired the few punctures in a little over an hour. I decided that since it was late in the day and I was exhausted, I would let the crew relax and explore the rocky landscape while I slept on the poop deck. Bad idea.

    I was awakened by a sobbing Cicero. [2] "They t-t-took them… they t-took them all…" I was still lost in my strange dream of blades and corpses. "I beg your pardon?"I asked sleepily. "Gone, they t-took them!" he said between sobs. I looked over the side of Hrynn, and it all finally clicked into my head. All the men weren't ashore, and I didn't hear them belowdecks. [3] "Where?" I ask  , attempting to hold back tears… I may have lost it all. Salys, Chiron, Scipio. Cicero points in the direction of a thin trail of smoke rising from the forest. If I tuned my ears in well enough, I could hear faint yells and the clamor of dagger vs. spear. "How long ago did this…' I couldn't hold the tears back.  "Only a few hours a-ago," he stammered.

        We went down to the hold to pack supplies, only to find the majority stolen. All that was left was hidden under old and rotting ropes. I guess my hopes for a friendly native people can be forgotten…

      The day was almost over, and Cicero and I agreed that it would be wisest to wait for morning before we began our search for the crew. Thankfully I kept them well-armed in case of a situation like this. Let everyone make it through the night, I pray. I dreamt the same dream I had the previous night. This time, though, I understood its meaning.

      I awoke with a dull headache and a pounding back. I didn't open my eyes, fearing where I would find myself—I had already noticed the change from the straw mattress in my cabin to someplace sandy. Okay, I could be 1) on the beach, 2) in the camp of whoever built that fire, or 3) some other place. I slowly peeped open one eye. Looming over me was the bedraggled form of Salys. I jumped, cursed, and reached for my dagger, but stopped when I recognized him. He had fresh cuts and slashes on his arms and face, and his clothes were torn and stained with blood. There was something different about his eyes. The old vibrant and youthful glint now looked more like the glint you'd see in the eyes of the hunted. It enraged, yet saddened me when I realized he would never be the same Salys I had known throughout my childhood. "He's awake!" Salys cried and threw his arms around me in a bone-crushing bear hug. I groaned a little, but I still hugged him weakly. When he released me after an embarrassingly long time, I fell back onto the sand that covered the floor of the—cave? "How did you all get here?" I asked feebly when I saw the rest of the crew whittling a mast out of a huge tree trunk, except Cicero. Surprisingly, it was Rafael who answered. [4] "After you fell asleep, Salys and Chiron found a rather large pile of rocks that they called their mini mountain. When Chiron reached the top, he saw a large group of strange men on the fringe of the forest, approaching fast. He called out, but a poison dart was soon in his neck." Salys absentmindedly rubbed his neck, remembering the look on his friend's face—the grimace of the poisoned. A tear welled up in his eye when he noticed me watching him. I longed to hug him, but I was too weak. I took a look around the cave again and noticed that Chiron was the only one lying in the sand. (except me) "He's not dead, yet at least." sighed Rafael in his strange, raspy voice.

      "After Chiron was wounded, he collapsed unconscious over the cliff on top of Cicero." That explains why Cicero was the only one left, I thought. "They were both out cold, but we heard Cicero's cry when he saw Chiron hurtling towards him. We rushed over without seeing or hearing the people behind us. I heard a soft 'phhht' as the remainder of the darts were fired. They all hit their mark. We were all out without as much as seeing our foes. [5]" I asked Rafael how I got here, and he told me to be patient and that my time would come. Uggghh… I hate waiting.

      "When we awoke, there were bald, muscular, tan men carrying us up a tall, jagged mountain. There were four sets of stairs, and each was filled with these men carrying more people. I couldn't see what was on the top because it was covered by clouds. The men were unaware that we were lucid, and we had the element of surprise on our side. We decided to use this to our advantage and break loose before we could find out what was atop the mountain. There was an odd copper-red tint to the stone, and I definitely didn't like it. It looked too much like blood. There was the sound of a bamboo flute trailing to my ears from the top of the mountain. To our horror, a fresh stream of thick crimson blood poured in a thin trail down the bare rock strip beside me. I flinched and alerted the man carrying me that I was awake. Before he could compose himself, I struck him in the base of his skull. Immediately, the rest of us began fighting. Cicero was still unconscious, and the man carrying him began running. I tried my hardest to get to him, but there was a group of the men blocking the path. We fought like dogs, then we broke down the steps in a run. We ran through the forest 'til we reached this cave. We rested for a while, and sent a small reconnaissance mission to retrieve you from the Hrynnasin." We sat in silence for a little while while I tried to take it all in. Lyon spoke softly, "Rafael… he needs to know…" Despair streaked dark as midnight across Rafael's face. "As we ran down the stairs, innumerable heads and body parts rolled down the slope. We saw Cicero's head among the avalanche." 

      My blood was boiling; I was in a black mood from hell. I did not want anyone to die on this expedition, especially in a gruesome way like that. I spent the next hour or two plotting my revenge in silence. I hated myself for doing it—I swore to Myrrh that I would never kill. But these men have gone too far. Those mongrels would pay for this!

      I wanted revenge. I was in a bloodthirsty rage, and no one could stop me from killing all those men on the mountain. I took a third of my crew with me into this last battle. We snuck through the forest with moss stuck into our scabbards to keep our daggers from clanging. Harper whispered to me that we were definitely within a mile from the camp. We passed a thicket of thorns and pine trees, and there we saw that mountain. My bones ached with anticipation for the kill. I wouldn't stop until their leader's blood was red on my dagger. I wouldn't stop until his head rolled down that nightmare mountain and his dead eyes were eaten by crows, like the men he killed. We stuck near the trees as we approached, drawing our daggers. The ring of steel rubbing of steel rang out, and the deadly procession of the tan men stopped in their tracks. Slowly, they pulled the spears from the thongs hanging on their backs. Harper, Stefani, Rafael, and Luke pulled the new bows they had just whittled from a nearby grove of willows. With a twang, the first volley of arrows took flight. Four men fell down the steps with arrows in their necks. With a scream of fury, I broke formation and charged. They dropped the bows and drew their daggers. Ten men knew that this may be their final battle, but they fought on anyway. We knew Cicero, and we fought for him. He didn't deserve to die so cruelly. I knew that there was the blood of many innocents beneath my tired, beaten feet. I took the nearest flight of stairs, and thrust at the first man so hard that not only did my dagger run him through, but so did my arm. The man's head snapped back so quick that his neck broke. I pulled my bloody arm from his corpse and threw my head back and roared with laughter. I was insane with this bloodthirsty fury, and I took down the next man, and the next, and the next, 'til I had only one man between me and their leader. By now, I was covered in blood, some of it my own. The last man fell before my blade, but not before he managed to pierce my arm with his spear. I was woozy, and I knew I'd be going down soon. I had to kill this last man. With blood dripping from my arm, I slowly walked towards the man atop the bloody altar on which they killed Cicero. He was tripping over himself in fear and I laughed when he realized that there was nothing behind him now but empty space. I pinned him down, and I had my dagger at his neck. His eyes showed nothing but fear, and all of a sudden, a strange thought came into my mind. I wonder if this was how Myrrh looked before she died. I crouched there for a long time as the bloodthirst and fury left me. I was lost in my mind, and the leader scrambled down the mountain, dropping that strange flute that Rafael told me about. I fell over with exhaustion and the last thing I saw was a tan man standing beside me.

      Pain. Pain. Pain was all there was. I was pain. It was consuming me, and I was beginning to despair. I was ready to forfeit my life. I broke my vow to Myrrh, and I was suffering. I wanted it to end now. Even though I was unconscious, my hand held the dagger to my heart. It was then that I saw Myrrh. The dagger slid from my palm and clattered to the cold stone floor. "I forgive you." she whispered. "But don't take your own life. Do not do that to me…"

      I tried to open my eyes, but my right one was swollen shut and I could barely see through my left one. My arm was sweltering hot in the bandages, and a small moan escaped my lips. "Hey, I think he's coming round!" I heard a familiar voice say. It sounded so far away, but I held on to it like a lifeline. Slowly but surely, my senses improved, and now I could see clearly through one eye. "Erikkson! Go fetch Salys and Scipio!" the voice said again. "Where are they…" I mumbled incomprehensibly. I tried to sit up, but I collapsed when the tides of pain hit me again. I heard running steps as my ould friends entered the cave. "How's he doing?" I heard Scipio say. "I'm alive, at least." I said softly.

            We spent the next few days collecting supplies from the forest and preparing to take the long trip back to Italy. Scipio found that flute that the leader dropped, and he wanted it to be given to Cicero's family. Tomorrow, we shall leave.

      I don't think I ever want to return to this horrible land of bloodshed and murder. I don't need to find Myrrh's killer anymore, either—I can see the answer to my question. Why did they choose Myrrh? No reason in particular, just to sate their bloodlust. I know the mind of a murderer; I've been inside it myself.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[1] Its certainly isn't the most comfortable thing when you're sitting on a dragon's back and it tenses. Those scales have vicious little barbs that like to find their way into the most sensitive part of a man's body.

[2] Cicero was an emotional man, so I wasn't worried.

[3] Okay, now I'm worried.

[4] Rafael was the only one who didn't play chess with the rest of us. I thought he was a mute until this point.

[5]  He said this with a great amount of pain and anger in his voice. His family told me that he was a strong believer in the honour system, and striking someone unawares was a very dishonourable thing to do.