Stories – Page 4 – The Lighthouse

Laser Tag!

December 15, 2023 thelighthousetve

“Plunk plunk!” went the rain on the metal roof of the car. It was mid afternoon on a rainy day in January, and my family and I were visiting my grandparents in Rocklin, California. It was my brother Liam’s Birthday, and we were going to play laser tag at the nearest arcade. I was sitting and watching the cars out my window speed down the slippery road. Up in the front seats, my parents were playing some rock music with humorous lyrics through the car speakers. I was sitting next to Liam and my cousin Ethan. Ethan, who was 12 years old, was always one year older than Liam and one year younger than me. He had tan skin, floppy and curly copper-colored hair that he wore in a headband that matched his red-and-white basketball jersey. Sometimes he was quiet, but mostly he was cracking jokes and fooling around. Liam and I both got the preferable seats that were adjacent to the windows and would have gladly given ours to Ethan, but for some reason he wanted to sit in the middle.

Mom was asking Ethan about his school year and basketball practice when we made a right turn into a parking lot and stationed the car in a spot next to the entrance of the arcade building. We all hopped out of the car onto the wet pavement, and made quickly for the big glass doors before we got too wet. I checked my bag for the billionth time to make sure I hadn’t forgotten my ear-muffs. Dad had mentioned that it would be loud in the building, and I abhor loud noises. They made me nervous, and I was already nervous as well as excited. I parted the opening of my bag, and sure enough my neon-pink ear-muffs were nestled safely inside. Mom had said that I wouldn’t need them, but “better to be safe than sorry,” I thought.

We thrust the arcade doors open, and inside there was a small lot of kids playing arcade games. Sound effects of shooting laser rifles and exploding spaceships filled our ears as we journeyed towards the tables in the food court. Our grandparents, Uncle Justice, and his girlfriend Kayla were anticipating our arrival around a table that was in the middle.

“There you are!” Grandma exclaimed.

“Where’s Evelyn and Isaac?” Mom inquired of Grandma as she retrieved her credit card from within the seemingly endless depths of her purse.

“I don’t know what the heck is taking them so long. Isaac is driving Evelyn, and they left at the same time as us, so they should be here by now.” She said with a disapproving shake of her head.

“I’ll be right back, I just have to run to the restrooms,” Grandma announced as she walked at a leisurely pace toward the Ladies Room. Evelyn and Isaac were cousins of Liam and mine. They were Ethan’s older siblings. Evelyn was 15, and Isaac was in his early 20’s. Evelyn had the same tan skin as Ethan, and had long curly brown hair. She was quiet, but she was still pleasant to make conversation with. She usually wore black-and-white Converse with green camo pants, and a two-sizes-too-big shirt with a band logo on it. Isaac was not loud, but he also wasn’t quiet. He always wore a light-colored button-up shirt with jeans, and either combed his hair or wore a beanie. He also had recently acquired a beard, but I am not sure if it counts as an official one because it was always quite stubbly.

Grandma arrived back at the tables after her trip to the bathrooms, and we waited near the round white tables for a short length of time for Evelyn and Isaac to make an appearance. When they still didn’t turn up, the adults decided for us to make our way to the front desk and purchase our cards for the laser tag. We walked back towards the arcade, and headed for the counter. Two older teenage girls stood there, looking very bored. Mom and Grandma started talking to one of them and began to arrange the purchase for everyone to play. Liam, Ethan, and I formed a separate group a short ways away from the desk. Uncle Justice joined us, and we started talking about whose team we wanted to be on. Uncle Justice always looked like he was ready to go hunting. He wore a black T-shirt and black jeans with a chain and a pocket knife in his right pocket. He had a small black beard and a mustache, and completing his look was a hunter-green baseball cap and a silver nose ring. He was Mom’s brother, but he was only in his late 20s.

Dad came over and told us that we could enter our player names on the three screens that were to the right of the front desk. I typed my name onto the screen. “Loki” was my player name. Ethan put his as “Eazy-E”, and Liam’s was “Clonk”. Grandpa decided he was going to play too. Grandpa was on the shorter/stockier side, and wore a gray heathered polyester shirt with a button and small collar at the neck. He also wore green camo pants, and he always wore hiking shoes no matter where he was going. He entered his code name as “Best Dad Ever”. At the last minute, Evelyn and Isaac walked over to the front desk.

“What took you so long? We were about to start without you!” Grandma half whispered, with a tinge of annoyance in her voice. Isaac shrugged. Grandma handed them their playing cards and they entered their names. Evelyn’s was “Fart Lover”. I didn’t get the chance to see Isaac, Kayla, Uncle Justice or Dad’s player names, but Mom’s was “Mom the Bomb”. Grandma decided not to play, and went back to the tables and waited.

When we all finished entering our player names, an older teenage boy (who also looked bored) with greasy blond hair and sweaty looking clothes showed us and a couple of strangers into a dark room with a large screen. The carpet had a crazy neon orange and yellow pattern that glowed under the black light from the ceiling. Kayla’s white shoes were glowing a blinding bright white, and everyone came over to look at them as our bored instructor queued up an instruction video on the large screen.

He stood under the screen and said,”Listen up,” in the most dull way possible. “First, you will watch this video and if you have any questions you can ask me after it’s finished.”

When the video finished, someone asked whether we would get to choose our team mates, and the greasy guide said, “I don’t know, but I think it is randomly chosen on the screen.” All the kids groaned, and some of the parents started whispering things like “What? We paid for this?” And “This is ridiculous. What kind of arcade doesn’t let you choose?” The guide projected our teams on the screen. I was with Ethan, Evelyn, Uncle Justice, and a little 5 year old girl and her dad. Liam was with Grandpa, Mom, Dad, Isaac, and Kayla.

The guide said spiritlessly, “This way,” and gestured towards a door to our left. We filed through the door, and entered a slightly brighter room. There were large metal pegs on the wall where our equipment hung. They were all numbered. On a TV screen opposite the door showed our player names with our equipment numbers next to them. Mine said “LOKI 32” highlighted with blue for my team color. We all grabbed our equipment and started putting it on. There were hit sensors on the chest, back, and one on each shoulder. If you were hit, it would make a blaster sound effect. I tightened my equipment with a black adjustment strap. There were different settings on the gun that you could access through a series of buttons and other fancy touch screen elements that I was not all that interested in. The rules were no running, and you had to keep at least 5 feet away from your opponents when shooting. The game was on a timer, and when the timer ended you were required to report back to your base.

We then entered the laser tag arena. Once again, black lights lit the room, but this time you couldn’t see the whole room from the entrance. There were tall and short barriers that you could hide behind, some of which were glowing neon colors due to the black light, while others were just black. The floor was covered in black carpet, and in the middle of the room there was a second floor that you could access by ramp. On the edges of this platform you could snipe opponents that were below. On opposite sides of the room, there were bases. In these bases there was a special archway that showed the team’s points in big, orange letters like you might see on a digital alarm clock. This was also the team’s weak point, because if an opponent shot it they would get a bunch of points. That meant that the arch should be guarded. On the other side of your base, there was a recharge station that you could stand behind to reload your blaster or revive yourself if you got eliminated. Both of these things took time to do, so you had to be sneaky.

Everyone grouped up with their teams and headed to their bases. On a speaker, an announcer repeated the basic rules, and counted down from 5. Then the lights dimmed, and intense techno music started playing. On my team, two team mates stayed and defended the base. I started to charge the opponents thinking it would be easy, but too late I realized that there was a slope. I tripped on the carpet all the way to the middle of the room. Liam found me and started blasting me while he laughed maniacally. “Aw come on!” I thought, and retreated back to the base to reload my health. When I was recharging, I saw the little girl and her dad from our team trying to take out Dad, who was on the top level of the arena. I started to shoot at him too, but he retreated. Then I went over to our opponent’s archway, and started blasting it. Then someone (I couldn’t see them because it was too dark) started blasting me so I retreated back to my base. On the way there I ran into three people who were not on my team, and I was low on health by the time I got to recharge. I started to head back over to the other side but this time I went through the higher level. By the time I got to the top the music shut off and the announcer on the speaker said, “End of round 1.”

Our whole team reported back to our base, then we had one minute to recharge before the next round started. Ethan agreed to attack the enemy base with me, but when the round started he ditched me! So I tried it on my own and just like the first time, someone found me. The only difference was that I got a few more shots off at the archway than I had before. On my way back to my base I tripped again and it was even worse than the first time. I laughed because I could just picture what it would look like to someone else. After I recharged, I decided not to attack the enemy base, so I stayed back and guarded ours for the remainder of round 2.

Once round 3 started, I was the only one guarding our base, so I had to walk back and forth to patrol. When I was on the side of our base that was opposite our archway, I started getting blasted from above. Isaac had sniped me! I started to shoot back. The plan was to take him out so that he could not advance towards the archway, and I did get a few shots off him. However, he disappeared before I could take him out. I started to find my way toward the ramp so that I could chase him, but just before I got there Liam cornered me.

I heard Ethan say “They’re shooting our base!” and then I saw Isaac’s gray beanie peeking over one of the pieces of cover. He must have made his way over to our arch while Liam distracted me. I took Liam out, but it took time and then my gun ran out of juice so that I had to recharge it. I ran over to our arch and started blasting Isaac alongside Ethan, and together we took him out too. After that, I decided to put my equipment into stealth mode. It took a second because I had to figure out which buttons to hold and when to pull the trigger, but once stealth mode was activated all the lights on my gun and sensors turned off. I thought I was so cool and sneaky, “Just like Loki,” I thought. Just as that thought crossed my mind however, I tripped and started getting blasted by Mom. I ran away from Mom in the direction of the enemy’s archway, but just as I turned a corner I tripped again. This time I slammed into something hard. It was Grandpa, and he hadn’t seen me because all of my lights were shut off.

“Sorry!” we both said in unison, and I hurried to get away. It took me a second to get my bearings, but once I found my way I began to blast the enemy archway. Just as I reached 5000 points, Liam and Dad spotted me and started blasting me. Then Isaac started approaching, so I made a run for it. That was when the stealth mode actually worked. I made it all the way up the ramp and shot Dad once to startle him. I saw him swivel his head back and forth and check around the corner where I had just been.

Then I heard him say, “Where the heck did she go?” and I giggled, feeling slightly redeemed as a “Loki” after my big mess-up. On my way over the top part of the room, I startled Kayla and she started blasting me. I tried to put my gun through one of the holes in my cover to shoot her back, but then Dad and Liam located me.

Dad said, “There you are!” and both he and Liam started blasting me. I ran for my base to recharge but just as I was about to recharge my gun, the final round ended and both teams traveled back to the door of the room. Two of the arcade workers led us back through the door and had us remove our equipment. On the screen in the equipment room, we could see our scores. For some reason it only gave everyone’s personal scores, so we couldn’t tell which team had won the rounds. On Liam’s team, Dad got the high score of the first round, Grandpa got it on the second, and Kayla got the high score on the last round. The only problem was that Mom and Kayla’s scores got combined, and if they hadn’t Mom would have earned the high score because she eliminated way more people than Kayla. Plus, Kayla didn’t get any points from an archway. On my team, Uncle Justice got the high score on the first two rounds. The last person to get a high score on my team was me, which I was very enthusiastic about. Once everyone finished looking at the scoreboard, we exited through the first room back into the arcade. I hadn’t noticed how sweaty I was when I was in the arena, so after about a minute of being in the arcade Dad took Liam, Ethan and I outside where it was chilly and drizzling. I was glad for the rain because it cooled me off quickly.

After a few minutes we walked back over to the tables and met up with Grandma. She handed us our things and we walked out to the car, everyone with smiles on their faces.

Stories

Shadowed Light – Chapter 2

December 1, 2023 thelighthousetve

by Aleena Haimor and Layal Hilal

At the Mohammad al-Amin masjid, I hear the Imam leading the prayer, but my heart is elsewhere. In the spaces next to me, Huda, Iman and Mama are trying not to cry. Before Sara’s funeral, we are doing Salatul Janazah.

My tears haven’t dried since Sara died, and they overflow through the course of Surah-Al-Fatiha.

I saw her body on the way to their women’s room. Wrapped in the Mihrab Cloth, she was covered completely. Seeing that hit me with a reality check: my sister was actually gone.

I start to cry again. Sara was my older sister, the one l loved the most. She always comforted and helped me as we are—no, were—the closest of sisters. I can’t imagine my life without her by my side.

Except… Now I have to do more than just imagine. I actually have to live without her. I sniffle, trying to keep my emotions in check. Afterwards, I slip outside, hopefully unnoticed. I sit down on a deserted bench and sob.

“You okay?” I look up and see Asiya, my lifelong best friend, standing a little behind me. I try to speak but my throat is dry. I settle for shaking my head. Next to Sara, Asiya has been one of my biggest role models, even though she’s only a year older than me. Asiya is looking at me, fighting tears.

With her sunny personality and big heart, Asiya is inspirational and comforting. Plus, she wears the most gorgeous hijabs. Today, she is wearing the very opposite of everyone else, a lavender hijab that has little stars on it, and a black abaya. Asiya nudges me slightly and sits down next to me.

I try to speak, but my throat is dry. I settle for nodding. Asiya and her family came to pay their respects to Sara. Asiya told me that Sara is—was—an older sister to her as well.

Tears cloud my vision, and I finally muster the strength to talk.

“I-I just can’t b-believe that Sara is g-gone. F-Forever, Asiya.”

“Z, I miss her too.” My friend puts her arms around me and squeezes me tight. She is much taller than me, even though the age difference is small. I give in to the hug and relax a bit.

I hear the Imam’s voice on the speakers.

“Now, let us make dua’a for Sara Salim, a wonderful woman who, by Allah’s will, has left us for Jannah.”

Asiya and I raise our hands to the sky in prayer. I close my eyes and wish for well-being and Jannah upon Sara. All of a sudden, I feel something. It is a rush of memories that were buried deep in my heart. Memories that I had forgotten to the test of time.

The way Sara used to chop up olives from our garden in the kitchen, and—for some reason—save the olive juice for me.

The way she would tease me saying, “Zainaaaaaabb? Did you pray Fajr?”

I would say, “Walahi!”

Then she would swish her hair and say, “Oh my goodness, Zuzu, you’re lying! Go to Jahannam!” Then we’d burst into giggles together.

Together.

My eyes fill with tears again, but I feel something else. It is a mix of feelings.

Shock.

Anger

Frustration.

Sadness

And…forgiveness.

Of all the times Sara and I fought, all the times she yelled at me. I forgive her. I almost laugh, because honestly? I’m REALLY late. Still, if she was still alive, she would accept my apology in a heartbeat. I finish my dua’a and hug my friend again. I smile faintly.

“I know that Sara is in Jannah. Allah wanted her back. He knew twenty five years was long enough to wait for Sara to go to paradise, so he called her back to him once again.”

Asiya sighs. “It must be nice to have that kind of patience.”

My breathing turns sharp as I painstakingly remember how patient Sara always was with me. It was her who taught me all I know. And everyone says that I take after her patience.

I look at Asiya, taking it all in. She’s always been the sweetest person, and always stood up for me when those boys from the neighboring church used to annoy us. Her strength today is incredible. I hug her again. I need to hold on to that one piece of my old life

But inside, I feel lost.

Everything is gone.

My old life is gone.

I try to smile, hoping Khadijah will be fooled. Of course, it doesn’t work.

“Listen,” she says. “I know everything about you, and it’s obvious that something else is bothering you…”

Before she can finish, I explode.

“Of course something is bothering me! My sister is dead! My house is in pieces! I lost my whole life!” I fume angrily. Asiya stutters, shocked and trying to explain.

“T-That’s not what I meant…”

Once again, I interrupt.

“You don’t get it, do you? Sara is dead! Of all people you don’t get it! You know what? If you’re just going to insult me, then I don’t care! Just…go!”

With a sob, I run away. I know I shouldn’t have said all of those things, but I couldn’t help it. Even though I hate to make excuses, I’ve been patient my whole life.

Now, my patience has run out.

With another cry, I turn away and head to the funeral, searching for my family in the long lines. Finally, I find Iman and Huda standing with Mama and Bayi and I run to them, hugging them with all my heart.

I stand with Huda on my right side and Iman on my left, with my parents next to them. I look blankly into the distance, grasping my sisters’ hands. They do too.

Until…

They put Sara’s wrapped body in the ground and cover it with fresh soil. I lose control over my body.

My emotions.

My pain.

“SARA!” I scream with passion and fear in my voice.

My parents, crying softly, try to hold me back, but I struggle. The Imam prays over Sara’s grave and I lose it.

Bursting into tears, I break free of my parents’ arms and run. I dash out of the masjid, sobbing, and I run to our broken house.

On the way, I pass the Beirut souk, Sara’s favorite market. I snort through my tears. Like, Wow, Sara. The souk? That girl really has—had—good taste.

I smile softly and slip inside.

Surah-Al-Fatiha: First chapter (surah) in the Muslim holy book, the Quran
Salatul Janazah: Prayer of death, performed right before a funeral
Mihrab cloth: a white cloth that all muslims are buried in after death
Masjid: Mosque; Muslim holy place of worship
Imam: Religious leader, kind of like a priest
Dua’a: A small prayer, not one of the five daily prayers; a plea or request for God to grant
Jannah: Heaven
Fajr: the first of the five daily Islamic prayers
Walahi: I swear to God
Jahannam: Hell, if you say Walahi and you’re lying, you supposedly go to Jahanam

Stories

Shadowed Light – Chapter One

November 2, 2023November 3, 2023 thelighthousetve

by Aleena Haimor and Layal Hilal

August 4th, 2020-5:35 P.M.

“Zainab! Dinner time!” I look up to Iman’s firm and slightly excited voice. I groan.

“One more minute?” I ask, wanting to finish this chapter in the story I’m writing. Before I even hear anything, I know what the answer will be. I pause the music playing through my turquoise iPod.

“Yalla, get down here!” Great, Huda has joined Iman in the attempt to get me up. I moan and end up hitting my head on the table. Owwwwwww. Seriously, guys? Right now?!

After another call from my sisters, I know my time is up. I sigh and get off my desk. The chair squeaks as I hop off, tie my hair up and slip on my sky blue hijab and darker blue abaya. The beads around the cuff of my sleeves tinkle as I open the door. I walk downstairs and the smell of za’atar, kibbeh, and suma’a hits my nose. I breathe in the spicy scent of strong Arabic coffee as well. My Bayi, Amain, is sitting in the leather armchair reading about some Greek philosopher.

“Hello, Eyeni,” Bayi says.

“Hi Bayi!” I smile, kiss him on the cheek, and give him a giant hug.

“Zainab! Are you done yet?” Iman yells.

“Yes,” I say.

“Then come help with dinner please,” she says. Sara comes into the room just as I’m about to leave it. She’s still wearing her nightclothes and is only wearing a umtah instead of her hijab. I cock my head curiously.

“Good evening,” says Sara. She catches sight of my face and laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m just tired.” Sara yawns for extra measure and hugs me. We haven’t gone out at all today, so no one really changed.

I should probably introduce myself now. Well, my name is Zainab Salim. I live in Beirut, Lubnan and I am twelve years old. I have three older sisters: 25-year-old Sara, 20-year-old Huda, and 18-year-old Iman. My Mama and Bayi are both easy, outgoing parents and I love them and the rest of my family dearly.

My Mama, Fayrouz, walks in, smiling at us all. Her beautiful, shining face takes my breath away every time I see her. After hugging me and kissing my older sisters, she ties her hair back and gets to work.

Mama hasn’t put on her hijab, but is wearing a honey-colored abaya studded with jewels. As I see her without a hijab on, I realize I am getting hot in my scarf, so I take off my hijab like the rest of the family. I was wearing it wrong anyway, so I’ll ask Sara to help me later.

I guess I should start helping with dinner, too. After all, we’re supposed to go to the Maghrib prayer today. I know that I have a part in this household and I need to help. I chop up tomatoes and olives in the kitchen, letting the scent fill the kitchen, and then set up the table. Finally, we all sit down, and pull a plate to ourselves. Before I eat, I bless my food with one word.

“Bismillah,” I say.

We begin to eat. Bayi tells jokes and we all laugh. Many Arab families tell their children to be seen and not heard. My parents don’t do this and I am grateful for that. I rip apart a piece of khubz Arabie and scoop up some warat enib on it. I take a bite. Mmmmmmm. Mama’s mujadara is the BEST!

“Tobrini, Inshallah,” Mama says as we dig in.

After finishing up and clearing the dishes, Mama starts singing. I join in and my sisters and Bayi do the same.

Suddenly there is a knock at the door.

“Shh! Be quiet, ya habibi,” Mama and Bayi say simultaneously. Baba slips to the door and cautiously opens it as us girls quickly throw on our hijabs. With the wars in Lubnan, opening the door can be a death sentence. And with the new Covid virus going on, no one wants to leave their homes.

However, Bayi has no reason to worry. Mama’s brother, Khalo Fouad, stands there, grinning. Mama gasps and runs to him. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her head.

Khalo is Mama’s older brother by seven years. He has always been her favorite brother out of her three brothers. Mama also has two sisters, but we haven’t seen them in a while. We haven’t seen Khalo in over a year, since he and his family live in Halba, about one and a half hours away.

I run too. Khalo is my favorite uncle. He dips down and receives me with open arms. My feet lift off the ground as I am spun around.

“Khalo!” I squeal in delight as he sets me down.

“Hi, Eyeni. I missed you, my Zainab.”

“Ahlan, Khalo!”

“Sara! Huda! Iman! You are taller than last year!” my uncle jokes. My sisters smile as he kisses each one on the forehead.

“Are Samira and Aisha here?” I miss my older cousins a lot. I look at the clock while Khalo chats with my family. Right now, its 6:07 P.M.

“They wanted to come see you, but were busy with college. They…”

Suddenly, a loud boom sounds. The room rumbles and fills with a dusty haze. I cough hard, half blinded, and feel around me.

“Mama?”

“Bayi?”

“Khalo?”

As the smoke clears and my eyes adjust, I see a figure laying on the ground. Mama and Bayi see it as well, but they gasp. Mama runs and tears rain down on the body.

Panic grips my heart. I see a ray of sun and the face is clear. I fall to my knees and cry to Allah as my family clutches each other.

This isn’t real.

It can’t be.

It can’t be true.

As Khalo’s tears fall to the ground and the truth hits me like a bomb, my mind drowns in a black hole of sorrow.

Arabic Glossary:

Yalla: Come on

Hijab: A headscarf that some Muslim women wear

Abaya: A cloth long-sleeved type of dress, sometimes worn by Arab women

Za’atar: An Arabic spice

Kibbeh: A type of “meatball” made in the middle east

Suma’a: Sumac

Bayi: Dad, in the slang Levantine dialect of Arabic

Eyeni: My eye, kind of like “apple of my eye”

Umrah: An undercover for securing hair under a hijab

Lubnan: Lebanon

Maghrib: One of the five Islamic daily prayers; the evening prayer

Bismillah: In the name of God

Khubz Arabie: Arabic bread/pita bread

Warat enib: Stuffed grape leaves, a very popular dish in the Middle East

Tobrini, Inshallah: I hope that I die before you; an oddly popular thing to say in Lebanon

Ya habibi: My darling

Khalo: Maternal uncle

Ahlan: Hello

Allah: God

Home, Stories

Four Corners: Quest of the Three – Chapter Four

March 29, 2021 thelighthousetve

Kane

by Lucie Ruggiero

“Stop lying!” General Rotia snarled. “I know you’re part of the rebellion.”

“No, you don’t, because I’m not,” Kane said from his chair, preparing himself to tell his carefully practiced story of who he was.

Rotia grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him so they were face-to-face. Kane’s feet strained as he tried to stand on tip-toes. Her breath was hot in his face, “How else would you have known about the map?”

“I don’t know about your map.” Kane tried to breathe conviction into his next words, “I’m telling you, I was only on that ship because I thought there would be money. I’m a thief, not a rebel.”

“It means the same thing, boy.”

“No, it doesn’t!” Kane gasped, his collar digging into the back of his neck. “A thief doesn’t have ulterior motives. Those rebels do.”

“And what are their motives?”

“Crushing Carellia and seizing power for themselves. It says so,” he wheezed. “On all the wanted posters.”

Rotia loosened her grip on Kane’s shirt slightly and he was able to stand properly.

He added, “the difference between them and me is that I’m willing to work for Carellia.”

Rotia snorted, “And what would you do, clean the latrines?”

“I’m a thief,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Not a very good one. The only thing of value on that ship was stolen from right under your nose,” Rotia said. “I have no desire to hire a dauvish thief whose loyalty shifts with gold. Especially not one who was caught stealing from me.”

“I never actually stole anything.”

“You are not helping your case.” She was calmer now, almost indifferent. “No, I need your information, not your services.”

“I don’t see why I should give it to you.”

General Rotia looked down at him, her face hard. “You will give it to me because you don’t want to be hanged at sunrise tomorrow morning.”

“Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Your accomplice. He knew about the map.”

“If you’re talking about the other thief, she wasn’t my accomplice. But yes, I assume she knew about the map. It was the only thing she took, as far as I could tell.”

“She was a woman? You saw her face?”

“Yeah, I saw her face. I didn’t know there were rebels that young. I thought they were all older. She was probably the same age as me.”

“She was a rebel then?”

“I assume so,” Kane shrugged. “You said only a rebel would know about your map.”

General Rotia looked thoughtful, but not completely disbelieving. “Could you describe her?”

“Well, she was dauvish. Taller than me, I’d say. And she had curly hair. That’s all I could see. It was dark. I’m surprised the patrol didn’t catch her. She must not have been in the town.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they searched the whole place, didn’t they? But they didn’t search the boats. If I was hiding from the patrol, that’s where I’d go.”

Kane had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but Rotia looked thoughtful. Kane wondered if the thief had escaped by boat. If so, he had no idea where to start looking for her or the map. They’d been so close to getting it and now, because of him, they’d have to start all over. He’d really messed things up.

“Give him to the guards to lock up,” General Rotia said to Gustov, pulling a pencil out of her graying blond braid. “I need time to think. You and your crew will stay at the fort until I decide what to do with you.”

Night had fallen and the hallway outside the library was dark. The main corridors of Fort Goranhall were better taken care of than the back passageway Gustov had used to sneak them in, but it was still the worse for wear. The carpets were worn and lanterns hung only every so often on the walls. The hallway was empty except for the guards in front of the library door. Kane stumbled between Gustov and Erika, his eyes watering from exhaustion. The hallway faded in and out of the darkness. He didn’t know how long they walked. It seemed like ages.

Gustov shoved him through a doorway and his eyes opened with a snap.

“Captain Gustov,” said the guard at the door in surprise. “We weren’t sure if you were coming back.”

“I live to see another day,” Gustov said, stepping into the moonlight.

The guard squinted at Gustov’s crew, who were filing out after their captain. “I don’t suppose you left the general in peace as she asked?”

“Important business. Couldn’t wait until morning. We have a prisoner for you.”

The guard shook his head in amazement as he took Kane’s chain from Gustov.

Gustov grinned, “Well, I’ve got to get my crew some food. Can you handle the prisoner?”

He nodded, still amused. “Goodnight, Sir.”

Kane let himself be led under the firm grip of the guard. He was too tired to protest.

The entrance to the prison was in a small building next to the wall of the fort. The guard led him down a steep, almost pitch-black staircase. At the bottom, it opened up in a hallway lined with cells. The room stank and its closeness to the river made it damp and cold. The icy air washed over Kane as he stumbled past huddled clusters of prisoners. Almost all the cells were full. At the very end of the room, the guard stopped at a cell half the size of the others, with a solid wooden door instead of bars. He unlocked it and opened the door.

“In you go.”

The door closed behind Kane with a clang. Kane stumbled in the ankle-deep mud. The cell was narrow and nearly pitch black. All he could make out were shadows. Something moved. He looked up. His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the dark, but he could see the shape of someone standing towards the back of the cell.

“Who’s there?” He couldn’t keep the quiver out of his voice, both from cold and fear.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not going to ambush you.” She sounded familiar. “I’m Esti.”

“Oh! It’s you!” He swayed where he stood, a wave of tiredness hitting him. “You were…on the prison cart.”

“Are you alright?” Her voice was closer.

“I’m fine.” He tried to move, but stumbled. His shackles held his arms awkwardly behind his back.

“You’re caught,” Esti said. “Here, let me help you.” She bent down and tugged the chain where it was stuck. “Don’t pull against me, I can’t unhook you if you do that.”

“You’re the one who’s pulling.”

“Step towards the door to give it some slack. There you go.” Esti straightened and brushed the mud off the chain. The end that wasn’t binding Kane’s wrists had another handcuff attached to it. She inspected the cuff. “You know, this isn’t a complicated lock. If the ones on your wrists are the same, I might be able to get it off for you.”

“Really?”

Esti nodded. “It’s drier on that side. We can sit over there and I’ll work on it.”

Kane followed her to the back of the cell. It was darker there, but the floor was hard and less muddy. Esti sat them down next to her sleeping father.

“Is…is he alright?” Kane whispered.

“He’ll be okay,” She looked down at her father, brows knitting. “So long as I get him out soon. Turn around so I can work on the shackles.” She pulled a pin out of her hair and brandished it like a sword.

“Careful!” Kane yelped. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Don’t worry,” she grinned, seeming glad to have something to do. “I’ve done it before.”

“If you say so.”

Kane turned around, still wary, and Esti began to pick the lock. It was an awkward position with both hands behind his back, but he tried to be patient with the constant tugging on his wrists. It reminded him of back home when he was little, and Jamal had tried to scrub his hair. Jamal was always the one who’d taken care of those sorts of things before Kane learned to do them himself. His mother was nearly always too busy; having meetings and talking with important people.

“That’s the first one,” Esti said. She freed his wrist and Kane sighed in relief, shaking out his arm to get the blood circulating again.

“You have no idea how good it feels to have my hands more than a foot apart,” he said, laughing. More seriously he added, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Here, give me your other hand and I’ll do the next one.” As she started to pick the lock, she asked, “What’s your name?”

“Oh! I’m Kane. Sorry.”

She laughed. “That’s okay.”

He watched her jiggle the hairpin in the lock, twisting it from left to right. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on his free hand. “Do you know why we’re the only ones in this cell? The rest looked full.”

“I think this is the high-security cell. For potential rebels.”

“You’re a potential rebel?”

“You heard my father on the cart, didn’t you? He was caught stealing from the patrol camp.”

Kane chose not to mention that stealing food wasn’t usually a reason to be arrested as a potential rebel. Instead, he asked, “But you weren’t caught? Then why are you here?”

“I couldn’t let him go alone. Our family has already been separated enough.”

“That’s…very brave of you.”

“Or stupid,” she sighed, pushing her dark hair out of her face. “I didn’t have time to think of a better plan.”

Kane shrugged. “My brother used to say that no plan is stupid until you look back on it. And then there’s almost always a better solution. But you can’t blame yourself for not seeing it at the time.”

“He sounds very philosophical,” Esti said, lifting Kane’s wrist to get a better angle on the lock. There was a click and it sprang open.

Kane shook his hand out. “He was philosophical sometimes. But most of the time he was getting everyone into trouble by daring them to climb roofs or something. He was kind of a natural leader, but he liked pranks. It drove our mother crazy.” He yawned, remembering how tired he was.

“Did you sleep on the cart ride?” Esti asked. Kane realized she’d been studying him.

“No.”

“You look exhausted, you should try to rest.”

Kane shrugged and lay down on the cold dirt. He was exhausted, but he didn’t think he could sleep. There was too much to think about, what with his failure to get the map and the fact that he was in a Carellian prison. There was no way he’d fall asleep with everything on his — Kane’s eyes closed and he drifted off before he could finish his thought.

Home, Stories

Four Corners: Quest of the Three – Chapter Three

March 15, 2021 thelighthousetve

Kane

By Lucie Ruggiero

The Eastern Carellian army headquarters loomed over the barley fields of Danabe. Built long before the Carellian invasions, Fort Goranhall used to be a Danabian fortress. Its stone walls had given protection to Danabians in times of war and had housed their army. At least, that’s what it was supposed to do. The Carellians had broken through those defenses during the invasions, and now the fortress, and the country, were controlled by Carellia’s army.

Fort Goranhall stood on the banks of the Goru, at the convergence of the Yet and Sti rivers, its size dwarfed by the immensity of the Goru. The Goru river was as wide as a lake in some places. Anyone who wished to cross it had to take a ferry, and all ports in or out of Danabe were closely guarded by the Carellians, making the land effectively a prison to its people.

Kane wished he could see the river instead of the gray, windowless stone walls of the fortress. The air was dank, with a muddy sort of humidity, and the passages were dimly lit. His neck prickled from dried sweat. What he would give to jump in the refreshing water and let his problems float away. Joining a mission was not what he’d expected or hoped it would be. His feet ached, and his hands stung. So far, this trip had been more exhausting than exciting. Now that the adrenaline of capture had worn off, he felt drained. Why use energy on worry? The worst was passed. He’d go to jail; he’d sit in a cell. It would be dark probably. Cool. He could sleep. Sleep, sleep would feel goo–

A jerk on his shackles sent him lurching forward. Jamal’s hand barely prevented him from crashing face-first onto the stone floor. Kane caught his balance and looked up. They had stopped in front of a wooden door. Captain Gustov pushed it open.

“The general doesn’t usually see people this late in the day, so we’re going to bypass the guards.” He waved them through the doorway but stopped Jamal. “You might want to wait here; the general doesn’t trust duaves, even those who are working for her.”

Jamal shook his head. “I’m coming, Sir.”

Captain Gustov probably thought Jamal wanted to prove his worth, but Kane knew Jamal was coming to stay with him, and he was grateful.

Behind the door was a spiral staircase, just as shadowy as the passages before. They stamped up the stairs in single file. At the top was another door, which the pirates shuffled through, Kane and Jamal last. When Kane stepped through the door, the sunlight dazzled him. He shook his curls out of his face and gaped over the vast swaths of barley stretching below to his right. The great Goru flowed steadily on his left, stretching so wide that he could barely see the opposite shore. And dwarfing it all were the Baikans, snowcapped and rocky, towering in the distance. He breathed in the clear air. It was beautiful.

Captain Gustov seemed unfazed by the spectacular view from the walkway. “Hurry,” he said. “I want to finish talking to General Rotia before nightfall.”

They continued to the far tower, Kane soaking in the outside world. He’d heard Danabe was an incredible place before the invasions, and seeing it, he believed it. Canals cut through the green and golden fields, reaching as far as the eye could see. From far away, it was hard to believe that poverty and famine plagued the country. Kane looked back at the peaceful landscape as he stepped through the tower doorway. Why did it have to change? He sighed and ducked into the tower.

They stood at the top of a staircase that ran along the edge of the tower wall. Panels in the roof were open, allowing sunlight to fill the tower. At the bottom of the staircase, the tower opened into a large open room. In the center of the room, a long wooden table sugged under the weight of stacked maps and documents. Overflowing but dusty bookshelves lined the round walls. It must have been a library before the invasions, Kane thought.

A tall woman stood bending over a map at the table. She straightened at the sound of the tower door and turned to squint up at them through the late afternoon sun.

“Who is it?” Her voice wore armor. It sent shivers down Kane’s spine.

“General Rotia,” Captain Gustov sounded weak compared to the General. “It’s good to see you.”

“Captain Gustov,” General Rotia sounded disdainful. “I certainly hope, for your sake, I agree with you. This had better be important.”

Captain Gustov beckoned to his crew and walked down the stairs.

The general waited for him to stand in front of her, “Did you retrieve what I sent you to find?” Kane could tell she thought it unlikely.

He frowned, surprisingly calm for someone whose life depended on a map he did not have. After weighing his options, he spoke.

“We found the map, Ma’am.”

General Rotia raised her eyebrows. “Really?” She drew out the word. “Well, where is it?”

“It was stolen off our ship in Agora harbor.”

“I see.” The general clearly thought he was lying. “That is very disappointing.”

“Indeed, Ma’am,” Captain Gustov said, pretending he thought she believed him. “However, we captured the thief’s accomplice. Erika?”

Erika took the chain from Jamal and led Kane forward. General Rotia’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, then narrowed as she turned to Gustov. Her voice was icy.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Captain, but if you are lying, I assure you I will personally make the rest of your life a living hell.”

Gustov shifted his weight, not breaking eye contact with the general. “I understand. Shall I continue?”

She nodded.

“We had docked in Agora for the night, and I left two of my crew to guard the ship. They saw two figures on the ship. Jamal went for help, and Erika stayed. She says she shot her pistol in the air as a warning. One of the thieves jumped overboard, and Erika caught the other. By the time I got there, the curfew patrol had also arrived. In the confusion, we didn’t realize the map had been taken. By the time we did, the other thief had escaped.

“We sent out a search party but couldn’t find him. The patrol guards can confirm my story, at least, the part they were there for. I thought you should know as soon as possible, so we came directly from the harbor. You have more resources than I do. The thieves are Dauvish; they might be part of the rebellion.”

Kane’s insides shriveled as the general trained her hawklike stare on him. His blood pounded in his ears. There was no escaping it. Jamal needed to keep his cover as one of Gustov’s crew. He would have to do this alone.

General Rotia was speaking. “I admit, your story is plausible, Captain. If nothing else, you’ve brought a possible rebel, so you are not a complete disappointment. I am willing to let your failure to bring the map slide. Of course, you will have to make up for it, but it won’t be in prison.”

Gustov nodded gratefully, “Thank you; I am in your debt.”

“Undoubtedly.” General Rotia smiled. “Luckily for you, I may be in your debt as well.” She turned at Kane, and his blood froze. “You, on the other hand, are in a rather sticky situation.”

“You aren’t any use to me unless you have information, and I get rid of things that aren’t useful. However, if you do cooperate, I will limit your punishment to prison. You seem like a reasonable young man,” She sneered as she said it. “What will it be?”

“I’ll take prison, please,” Kane said, trying to keep his voice steady and failing spectacularly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jamal move, but he kept his eyes firmly on the general. “I have information.”

“Good. I’m glad we are on the same page.” She motioned to the chair she had not offered Gustov. “Why don’t you sit down so we can get started?”

Home, Stories

Four Corners: Quest of the Three – Chapter Two

March 1, 2021March 15, 2021 thelighthousetve

Kane

by Lucie Ruggiero

Snap. Clank. Jangle. The shackles binding Kane’s hands jingled as the prison cart thumped over yet another bump in the road. Curse that girl. If it wasn’t for her, he’d already be across the border and getting the map back to the rebellion. Instead, he was sitting in a cramped prison cart squashed against half a dozen other prisoners of Carellia. The cart was a pungent box of trapped stench. The heat of the day made it stuffy with heat, and dust from the road clouded the stagnant air.

Kane shifted to a more comfortable position. He’d been squished in this infernal cart for three days now. Somehow that pirate captain –Gustov? Yes, Gustov– had convinced the curfew guards he was following orders from a Carellion general. They’d agreed to escort him to the Carellion Army headquarters, and Kane was put in the prison cart along with the rest of the prisoners being transferred. He couldn’t imagine why the guards had believed Captain Gustov, but they had, and now Agora was days behind him.

“So, what’d you do?” A balding old man asked the man next to him, who looked like he’d been uprooted from the heart of a forest.

The man grunted and shrugged.

“Well, I took some bread from a house,” said the old man, seemingly undeterred by the other’s lack of interest. “‘Sept it wasn’t a house,” he continued, “it was the patrol camp.” The old man chortled and nudged the ragged woman next to him, “That’s the third time this week the patrol ‘as caught me, i’nit Esti? Guess they got tired of catchin’ me stealin’ food, finally decided to lock me up er somethin’. Dunno why you had to come along, though.”

The young woman sighed brokenly and leaned against the wall. “Pa, please just give it a rest.”

He patted her shoulder, “It’ll be okay, Esti, they’ll probably let us go. The jails are pretty near full, I’d reckon.”

Kane looked away. He couldn’t stand the sadness these people had to face. The jails were indeed full. Full of innocent people whose only crimes were defying the tyrannical Carellion soldiers’ orders or stealing out of their desperation to feed their families. Few real criminals were arrested anymore. The Carellion invasions had brought nothing but destruction and hardship to the Arklands, and the Carellion soldiers didn’t care about the people whose lives they uprooted. Kane knew all too well that the queen of Carellia was willing to do anything to get the power she thought should be hers. Kane couldn’t let the map fall in her hands or any other agent of the queen. Not after all the rebellion had gone through to keep the relic pieces safe from Carellia.

Ugh! Kane raked his grimy hands through his equally dirty hair. How had that girl even known about the map? Few people knew, let alone believed, the legends anymore. She couldn’t be any ordinary thief. No dauvish thief could outlast the Carellion Army on their own. Dauves were arrested on sight to ensure no rebels could escape. Being dauvish was a crime in itself, even if you weren’t a rebel. She must be working for someone. It was the only explanation he could think of. And it was the least of his concerns right now. He needed to get the map. The fate of the rebellion depended on it. And to get the map, he would have to do the impossible; break out of a Carellion prison.

As if to remind him of his situation, the cart lurched, yanking his shackles painfully. The rough metal dug into his wrists. The cart lurched again and rolled to a stop.

Kane heard boots crunching in the dirt, the shouts of soldiers, the creaking of a gate being opened. The cart groaned and began to move. The sounds of people and equipment grew louder.

“This way, corporal.” The voice was gravelly. “Any top security prisoners?”

“Mostly the usual, sir, although we did escort some men who say they’re working for General Rotia, and they brought a duaf.”

“Shouldn’t require extra security?”

“No, sir.”

“As you were, corporal.”

The cart had stopped again. Kane strained his ears to get a sense of what was happening, but the clanking of shackles from the other prisoners made it impossible to hear anything definite. All of a sudden, everyone in the cart stood as if it was some pre-choreographed motion, and Kane was hauled up by the wrists. His wrists screamed in protest. Sunlight flooded in. “Everyone out, no funny business,” barked the corporal, jerking the chain.

Eyes watering, Kane stumbled after the rest of the prisoners. He had no choice, after all. Kane tried to get his bearing, swaying a little as the rush of sunlight and nausea overwhelmed him. He would forever hate carts, that was for sure.

Someone detached him from the rest of the prisoners, shoving him gently towards a doorway.

“Just hang in there, okay?” a familiar voice whispered in his ear. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“Jamal!”

“Shh, keep it down, they don’t know I’m with you, remember? Just don’t do anything stupid, and we’ll be okay.”

Kane sagged with exhaustion and relief. Jamal would figure this out. Hope wasn’t lost just yet. He shifted so his brother’s broad back partially blocked the blinding sun, giving him a chance to adjust his eyes. His entire body felt lead-weighted. Having slept on the cart ride would have been wise, but there was no help for that now.

“Captain, I have the thief!” Jamal raised his voice above the hubbub of soldiers and horses.

“Good,” Captain Gustov strode up with the rest of his crew. His face was set, and Kane could’ve sworn he looked worried. “We’ll take the boy to the General and explain the situation.”

“Captain!” It was a rather skinny young pirate who spoke. “Do you really think she’ll let us off for not bringing what she asked? We lost the map! You said yourself we’d be in trouble if–”

“Silence, Lorenzo!” All doubt left Gustov’s face. “I will not tolerate you contradicting me. You wanted a spot on this crew, didn’t you? Now act like you meant it.”

Lorenzo mumbled something that sounded like “yes, father.” Kane glanced at him curiously. It hadn’t occurred to him pirating was a profession one passed down; he’d always thought of pirates as cold and ruthless, without family ties. He scanned the rest of the crew, intrigued. His eyes landing on the backlit figure of Erika. His captor. He gritted his teeth. She was a ruthless pirate. He might have escaped if it hadn’t been for her. He might even have gotten the map from that slippery thief’s hands if the pistol fire hadn’t startled him into letting her go.

Gustov, who had been talking to some soldiers, turned to his crew. “Alright, men, we are going to meet with General Rotia to give her the report. When we get there, I’ll do the talking.” He looked pointedly at Lorenzo, then continued, “Stand respectfully and quietly. I want to leave here with both our dignity and our heads intact.”

And with that dire thought planted in their minds, Captain Gustov led them through the door and towards their destiny.

Home, Stories

Four Corners: Quest of the Three – Chapter One

February 15, 2021March 19, 2021 thelighthousetve

Anara

by Lucie Ruggiero

Roasted card mackerel. Its heavenly scent filled Anara’s nose. The bartender had just slapped two heaping plates of it on a table beside Anara. If she leaned over far enough, she could grab the top fish off the plate. She seriously considered it for a moment, but she had come here for a reason, and she wasn’t about to risk her freedom for the sake of one fish. The last time she had tried stealing someone’s food, the whole tavern had chased her half the night.

Anara scanned the room, spotting two tables behind a group of rowdy card players. She would be less noticeable in the far back. Pulling her hood lower on her face, she waded through the haze of smoke and body odor to the far table. She was glad it was so crowded. This way, no one would pay attention to her. No one would have any reason to arrest her today. The dull roar of conversation, laughter, and clanking silverware hummed around her, making her head throb. This would be a horrible place for someone to mistake her for a rebel.

The door banged open, and another rowdy group sauntered in. Pirates. Most came to drown their failures, but these looked practically buoyant with success. Anara leaned in. This could be her lucky night. After three days with no success, she couldn’t afford to mess this up. She also couldn’t afford to be wrong. Her spine tingled with the possibility. Whatever they had must be a valuable prize. Nothing made pirates happier than the promise of gold-filled pockets.

The captain stepped up to the counter. “Ale for each of us, nothing special,” he said, scanning the room with calculating eyes.

“Aw, come on, captain!” One of the crew stepped up indignantly. “We deserve the finest drink this side of the Baikans for what we accomplished.”

“Silence!” The captain’s face darkened. “You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, Lorenzo.” He ushered his men to a table in the same secluded corner where Anara sat. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he continued, “We won’t get anything but a rope around our throats if this cargo is stolen. We are not in clear water yet. Only once the cargo is put directly in the hands of the commander will I even think about celebrating our success.”

The captain stood. “Well? Who wants a drink?”

His crew silently trailed after him.

Anara waited until they had settled down with drink and conversation before sneaking back out of the tavern.

Cargo. Cargo valuable enough to warrant a hanging if it wasn’t delivered. This was her lucky night indeed. She only hoped she could carry it.

…

Anara stepped onto the road. Little puffs of reddish dirt rose where her feet made contact with the sandstone. The darkness surrounded her, but she felt at home in this dim, bluish light. No one would or could stare at her here. She walked in the middle of the road, savoring her freedom. She passed by the closed stands where earlier, vendors had sold their fruit and fish beneath the blazing sun. Now it was quiet. Now it was dark. Nighttime brought with it the day of thieves.

A man was walking up from the wharf. Anara ducked into the shadow of an alleyway. The man passed so close she could smell his sweat, although that could have been quite far, considering how strongly he reeked. Anara stifled a gag. The man had stopped just beyond her hiding spot. She tensed, shrinking herself as small as possible against the wall. He was turning toward her. He raised a fist and brought it down hard on the shutters of one of the shops. The thud shattered the night. He continued to pound, making Anara’s ears wither. She was just wondering if she might be able to sneak by him without him noticing when the second-floor window flew open with a clatter. A lantern poked out, closely followed by a bony arm and an even more skeletal-looking face. Anara shrank further into her protective shadow.

“Well?” the old woman yelled croakily down at the man, “What do you want? It’s past my bedtime, so make it snappy!”

He seemed slow on the uptake. “Do yuh rent dinghies?”

“Yeah, I do, what of it?”

“Wull just finished loadin’ uh boat an’ it’s offshore an’ all, so…”

“Spit it out! Some of us like to sleep around here! I haven’t got all night.”

“Wull I need tuh rent uh dinghy fur tomorrow mornin’ real early, so I was wonderin’…”

“There’s a dinghy at dock six you can use, just go away!” and with that, the old woman slammed the window shut with gusto.

The man stood there for a moment, then shuffled away, mumbling to himself.

Once she could no longer smell his sweat or hear his muttering, Anara left her hiding place and continued toward the water.

Anara melted into the shadow of the last house on the street. Here was the tricky part. The houses and shops were set back some twenty paces from the docks, leaving a wide swath of road where she would be plainly visible to anyone walking in that area. The captain wasn’t stupid, he surely left some of his crew behind to guard the ship. If she was seen, she’d be in chains as soon as they removed her hood. But if she didn’t get that cargo, things would be just as bleak.

Anara frowned. Why are there no lights on the docks? Wait. There, moving along the far end of the wharf. A man carrying a lantern stepped from behind a large ship. He turned back and spoke with someone Anara couldn’t see. She cursed softly. More than one guard meant if she was noticed, she’d be caught for sure.

Movement. Anara turned, but there was nothing there. It must have been her imagination; the darkness playing tricks on her eyes. She willed herself to focus.

Anara crouched behind a stack of crates that smelled pungently of fish. The docks were packed with boats tonight. Hordes of merchants came to Agora for the day trade, but the town was dead by sundown. The enforced curfew began once the patrol arrived from the nearby Carellion camp, and no one stayed outside after dark to test their luck. No one, that is, except Anara. She shivered a little from the salty night breeze. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. The curfew patrol would come any minute, and that slimmed her chances even further of escaping unseen.

Logic was telling her two things. The first was that her plan was stupidly dangerous. The second was that if she didn’t get whatever that valuable cargo was, her chances of leaving Agora would be non-existent. Anara shifted her weight so her feet wouldn’t fall asleep. She’d been stuck in Agora too long. It was hard enough finding food without the added danger of being caught by the night patrol. This could be her only chance to get away from here for good. Anara pulled her hood low over her face and moved out of the shadows.

“Stop!” a commanding voice broke through the darkness.

Anara froze mid-step. Already? She hadn’t even fully left her hiding spot.

“Show yourself if you don’t want to be turned in for breaking curfew!”

Anara realized the voice was coming from a distance. He hadn’t seen her. He must be talking to someone else. Anara peeped over the edge of the fish crate. The man was the same one she’d seen before, at the far end of the docks. He had his back turned and his lantern raised towards the trees, which marked the beginning of the scrubby woods at the end of the wharf. This was her chance.

Anara dashed along the docks, as close to the water’s edge as possible, to avoid being seen by the rest of those on guard behind the ship. Her feet fell quickly, light and silent on the ground. At the same time, Anara noticed a shadow climbing the side of the pirates’ ship. Another thief? Anara clenched her teeth and ran faster. Reaching the ship, she began to climb up the side. The wood was rough under her bare hands, and the ship swayed, making balancing tricky.

“Hey, Erika, I saw a light in the woods, should we go check it out?” The man with the lantern was talking to the other guard.

“Leave it be, Jamal.” The woman’s voice–Erika, Anara presumed–was hoarse, like the grinding of two stones. “It’s probably just some fisherman sneaking out after curfew. We’d be wasting our time. Besides, no one knows about the map except us.”

Jamal still sounded unsure; “Are you sure there’s no chance that someone found out? I think maybe we should check around the docks again.”

“We’d see if someone was in the captain’s quarters–the windows, remember? And the captain said to stay by the ship. Do you really want to disobey his direct orders?”

“I guess you’re right.”

All of a sudden, Anara’s foothold faltered, and she slid on the slick planks. She gasped as her hands took all of her weight. Clinging to the ship like a barnacle, she searched for another foothold. Her arms shook from the strain of holding herself up. After what felt like ages, her foot found a firm hold again. Her hands shook as she continued to climb. Something hairy brushed her fingers. She snatched her hand back, but it was only a very old, seaweed encrusted rope. She almost laughed as she grabbed it, but her confidence was still shaken. Gripping the rope so hard her hands began to numb, she pulled herself onto the deck of the ship.

So, a map was what this valuable cargo was. Anara wondered what could be so important about a map. She sat for a moment, rubbing her sore hands against her breeches, then stood.

The map would be kept in the captain’s quarters. Anara looked around the deck of the ship. She had seen countless ships come into port, but she had never been on one. This plan was falling apart faster than she could come up with it.

Through a crack in the deck, Anara saw a muffled light moving. The other thief! The map must be below-deck. The best plan of action would be to follow the other thief and hope she could get the map before they did.

Below deck, the boat groaned and creaked. Anara felt even dizzier. She walked along the narrow hallway, listening for any sign of the other thief. A clink. Small but audible. There it was again. She crept forward, shoulders tense. There was a door at the end of the hallway. Through its window, she saw a sliver of light. She tip-toed forward and looked through.

A boy of around sixteen–not much older than her–stood, blue face illuminated by a covered lantern on the navigation table. Anara gasped. The last time she’d seen a dauf was when her parents left. He must be part of the rebellion. She’d seen the wanted posters for rebel leaders and dauvish convicts, but it had been a long time since she’d seen someone who looked so similar to her in person.

The boy held a scrap of paper up to the light, no bigger than Anara’s hands put together. The map. Anara sighed a little. It looked rather unimpressive. Old, maybe, but other than that, unremarkable. It will be worth it. So long as I’m not caught.

Anara waited, flat against the wall, as the boy packed up the map. He opened the door slowly, silent as a spider. The leather map-container was in the hand closer to Anara. She seized the chance. Ducking out from the shadows, she grabbed the map. The boy’s split-second of surprise was enough to give Anara the edge. She raced towards the ladder as quietly as she could. He was hot on her heels. Anara slipped the map into a bag on her belt and grabbed a rung of the ladder. Halfway up, he grabbed her foot. She shook him off and climbed faster.

Anara threw herself onto the deck, crashing into a stack of barrels. They tumbled on top of her, making a huge racket in the process. One fell directly on Anara’s ankle. She yelped as the heavy barrel rolled off her foot.

“Hey! Who’s there?” Erika yelled. “Come on, Jamal, I think we have a trespasser.”

Anara scrambled to the gangplank and pushed off the ship. Erika yelled a curse.

“Get the captain, Jamal! There’s a thief on board!”

“But what if they get away…?”

“Just go! I’ll make sure they don’t escape.”

Anara heard the sound of a cocked pistol. Oh no. She raced across the deck, side-stepping barrels. She could jump into the water and hide beneath one of the docks if she just–a hand grabbed the hood of her cloak just as she was about to jump. She jerked back, hood falling off, and turned. Before she could pull her hood back up, the second thief saw her face. His eyes widened in surprise.

“But–wait–you’re dauvish? But, you’re not part of the–who are you?”

Anara froze. Erika had climbed the side of the ship. Her broad silhouette loomed tall.

Anara’s ears exploded. A flash of fire shot towards the sky from Erika’s pistol, and suddenly Anara was falling through the air. Her head rang from the sound of the pistol shot. Everything was spinning.

Water hit Anara’s face full force as she crashed into the sea. Salt filled her mouth. She kicked upwards and surfaced, gasping for air. This is ridiculous. She paddled towards the nearest dock. Clinging to the slimy pylon, she tried to catch her breath. Through the ringing in her ears, she could vaguely make out the sound of Erika yelling. Then thundering footsteps. More shouts. More confusion. More dizziness.

She stayed wrapped around the pylon for a while, just letting the water lap up and down. She breathed deep. In and out, push and pull. Her hearing was beginning to come back. She opened her eyes and listened.

The patrol had arrived. The docks were in a state of confusion. Guards were yelling about curfew, and the captain from the tavern was yelling back about special privileges. They didn’t seem to know yet that she’d stolen the map, but it was only a matter of time. She needed to move. Once they started searching, she’d have little chance of escape. They’d probably wake half the town if the map was as valuable as the captain had said. She let go of the pylon and swam further away from the pirates’ ship.

The next dock was different from the others. Most had one ship docked, but this one had many small boats and dinghies. Dinghies. The word rang a bell. She looked at the dock number. Dock six! This was the one the old lady told the sweaty seaman he could get a dinghy from. And there! Anchored in the harbor! The boat he’d said was leaving first thing tomorrow. Maybe she could hitch a ride.

Home, Stories

Four Corners: Quest of the Three – Teaser: Chapter One

February 1, 2021March 19, 2021 thelighthousetve

Anara

by Lucie Ruggiero

Roasted card mackerel. It’s heavenly scent filled Anara’s nose. The bartender had just slapped two heaping plates of it on a table beside Anara. If she leaned over far enough, she could grab the top fish off the plate. She seriously considered it for a moment, but she had come here for a reason, and she wasn’t about to risk her freedom for the sake of one fish. The last time she had tried stealing someone’s food, the whole tavern had chased her half the night.

The captain stepped up to the counter. “Ale for each of us, nothing special,” he said, scanning the room with calculating eyes.

“Aw, come on, captain!” One of the crew stepped up indignantly. “We deserve the finest drink this side of the Baikans for what we accomplished.”

The captain stood. “Well? Who wants a drink?”

His crew silently trailed after him.

Anara waited until they had settled down with drink and conversation before sneaking back out of the tavern.

Cargo. Cargo valuable enough to warrant a hanging if it wasn’t delivered. This was her lucky night indeed. She only hoped she could carry it.

…

“Well?” the old woman yelled croakily down at the man, “What do you want? It’s past my bedtime, so make it snappy!”

He seemed slow on the uptake. “Do yuh rent dinghies?”

“Yeah, I do, what of it?”

“Wull just finished loadin’ uh boat an’ it’s offshore an’ all, so…”

“Spit it out! Some of us like to sleep around here! I haven’t got all night.”

“Wull I need tuh rent uh dinghy fur tomorrow mornin’ real early, so I was wonderin’…”

“There’s a dinghy at dock six you can use, just go away!” and with that, the old woman slammed the window shut with gusto.

The man stood there for a moment, then shuffled away, mumbling to himself.

Once she could no longer smell his sweat or hear his muttering, Anara left her hiding place and continued toward the water.

Movement. Anara turned, but there was nothing there. It must have been her imagination; the darkness playing tricks on her eyes. She willed herself to focus.