The first four chapters of a story that is set on an island in the middle of the atlantic ocean. The island is unknown to the rest of the world because the sea that surrounds it is prohibited for aquatic transport/transit. The reason that people are not allowed to sail in this patch of water is because typhoons, tidal waves and storms seem to live here. This patch of water is known as The Yund to the people of Poig.
Arrow5.
The people of the circle seemed uneasy and it didn’t help that they couldn’t see the speaker through the night light.
‘But no worries my Arrows. For I have a plan. We will career up and down the coast. Destroying the Kruans where we can. Disrupting them when we can’t. Our arrows will stop them in their tracks. We have the brass to save our people. Now we must show it. Right..’ suddenly the boat hit the sand. The Bajans, now ready to do some damage leapt from the boat. Areo didn’t have time to finish his sentence. The Face saw had seen his chance. Ice-cold hand over mouth. Poisoned dagger under throat. Swipe. The Bajan blood that had seconds ago been inspiring its troops splashed across the abandoned deck. The Face repeated what he had whispered into the Captain’s ear. “The final face you behold is mine”.
The Face vaulted from the yacht leaving the carcass to rot. He sprinted through the darkness. He passed an exited Bajan. He put on a Bajan accent and said. “I wonder what”s taking the Captain so long?’
‘Yeah’ came the reply.
It was not heard.
The Face was off.
His deed was done.
The Face skimmed the cliff tops of the Hhhuan coast like a kestrel, barely touching the earth. There were distant cries from the cove. The Face knew those cries. His feline ears had grown accustomed to those sounds. The Bajans would falter without their chief and would swiftly be conquered just like their Hhhuan neighbours. But enough of this politics, thought The Face, it is time to get back to base.
Luus was kneeling beside the body of Areo crying silently. Jock saw his friend from the sand below the Kinnaj. The tears that dappled her face filled Jock with remorse. Luus was older than him but she was still relatively young for an Arrow. She was Areo’s wife and had been with him for years and years of scenarios and battles. Whoever had done this would pay.
It was no accident. Areo’s throat was a mess. He had been murdered and there was no trace, less than no trace, of a murderer. Not that anyone was looking. The Arrows were too sitting around feeling sorry for themselves.
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