Dobber
Five years the king of Timoran had tried to settle it, and not one ship had returned.
I mentioned this in my last post, but the stories aren’t all in order. Specifically notice the Flood, which is up in this post, but is down in the story about Naia. So technically, this one happened first :)
“I don’t see what’s so dangerous about this place,” the knight said. He was a tall man, barely of age, with the proud shoulders of a man in charge. He laughed. “It’s just flowers and trees.”
Seven boats anchored in the burgeoning cove. Greener than green fronds guarded the forest floor between stout oaks layered with vines. A thick canopy crowded out the sun, darkening the jungle inside. A thousand insects chittered from the shrouded depths.
The sun was hot and high as soldiers disembarked and set up camp. Dobber watched with growing discomfort as the grassy shore filled with tents. The rest of the island’s shore was rocky cliffs, but in this one cove, the sea abutted a small, shallow plain. Captain Tilmon had remarked how perfect the landing was, given the inhospitable exterior. Too perfect, Dobber thought. His eyes wandered to the lurking forest.
“I’m not sure, sir. It’s best to keep a perimeter just in case,” Dobber said.
He didn’t share the disquiet in his heart. No matter the knight’s confidence, this island was hostile. Five years the king of Timoran had tried to settle it, and not one ship had returned. These seven were certainly the strongest team sent, but that knowledge was not enough to quell his fear.
Dobber examined the island. What exactly was it that unnerved him? The trees, although shaded, looked quite normal. The grass was tall and pleasant, with budding heads. Even still, the heat and the sun couldn’t drive away the chill that he felt.
“A perimeter?” Sir Polmar scoffed. “If there were danger, it would have met us on the shore. This place is perfectly safe.”
Indeed. Dobber realized why he was so anxious. It looked safe. Five years of exploration and settlement left no mark on the island. He looked back at the cove. Doubtless the Flood would have pulled away any wreckage in the water, but there were no ruins of an old camp and no remnants of a battle. There was nothing, no sign that anyone had ever stepped foot on this island. That’s what concerned him.
The knight clapped Dobber on the shoulder. “Lighten up! You look like you’ve seen your mother’s soul.”
He wished he had, at least then he’d have seen it.
“Dobber, you aren’t a child any more,” Sir Polmar said, expression hardening. “Come now. I’m thirsty and there must be a brook somewhere.”
“Sir, are you sure?” Dobber never questioned his charge. Never. But the fear bade him to speak. Darkness lurked under the canopy of trees, watching. He could feel it staring.
But Sir Polmar was not afraid. He eyed Dobber curiously. “Come.”
Dobber could not deny him. He was sworn into the king’s army, and his duty was as squire to the knight. He followed him up the shallow slope and into the jungle. It was slow going at first, enough to make him forget his fears for a while.
Finally, they came upon a creek. Its water was crystalline. Between the trees, rays of sun sent the creek shimmering like jewels. After the knight had drunk his fill, Dobber did as well. He knelt and brought cupped hands to his lips. It tasted pure, like drinking the cloudless sky.
“I think I rather like this place,” the knight mused. “Paradise Island.”
Dobber didn’t respond. By legend, Paradise Island was to the north, lost in the Sea of Songs. Home to man it had once been, before the Flood had drowned it.
This was not Paradise Island. He knew he wouldn’t be so afraid if it were.
In the years since the first expedition, its colloquial term among sailors was the Isle of Death, though the king refused to acknowledge such a title. Apparently so did the knight. He sat against a tree and stretched his legs, hands folded behind his head.
“We have found your creek, sir,” Dobber said, glancing back the way they had come.
“So we have. I think I might stay a while. The soldiers can set up camp without me. They do it all the time.”
“Sir, it’s not safe here.”
Sir Polmar barked a laugh. “Where is the danger? Dobber, what is it that so unnerves you?”
Yet Dobber could not say. He looked at the darkened jungle and felt the fear dripping as sweat from his skin. He heard a chorus of insects, singing their demise, but the knight would not understand.
“I asked you a question,” Sir Polmar said. He sat forward, frowning.
“It is a feeling, sir. Nothing more. By your leave, I wish that we return to camp.”
“A feeling! Dobber, where is your sense of adventure? What other reason have we come here, but to explore?”
The knight stood. A head taller, he looked down at his squire, hands on his hips as if correcting a child.
“We have come to settle the island, sir.”
“Ah, yes, the island. Not the cove, not the beach. The island.” He mimed with his hands as if coming to a revelation, mocking. Then he scowled. “I will not let your cowardly feelings impede our mission. Come. We go further in.”
He turned and marched into the woods.
Dobber followed. He had no choice. He would not dishonor himself in front of his knight. In this mood, the highborn lad might seek his head. Dobber told himself that the knight was the one to fear, but it did not quiet the jungle choir.
Mist had settled in the forest, protected by the canopy. Dobber never knew of a fog in such heat. He thought only that it could be the evaporation of dew, but the dew was gone for hours. Instead of dark tunnels, now he saw gray silhouettes of trees. He hurried close to the knight.
After half an hour of hiking, they happened upon a grove of sorts. The conglomerate trees and vines stopped at the edge of an unkempt garden, though no structure outlined it. Uncultivated weeds and grasses crept up between the strangest plants Dobber had ever seen. Dense and thick like a bush, thicker even. He could not see through the interwoven branches. Each was a different size, the tallest reaching two feet over the knight’s stately figure. Their trunks were rooted into the ground, often two or three for a single plant. Orange and purple leaves topped the stocky branches.
It was the shape that struck him as oddest. They were men! Who was the artist who had shaped these bushes? As he looked from one to the next, he saw heads and arms, some kneeling, others standing. The tallest was a giant of a man, with his arm outstretched. His mouth was agape, inhumanly wide.
In the fog, they implanted themselves in Dobber’s imagination. Vague outlines shifted in his periphery, or a twig would snap somewhere between them. He had never felt fear so strong.
“Sir, we should go.”
“So shy?” said the knight. “Poor Dobber wants to return the ships. Look at what you would have missed. A mystery of nature. Perhaps this is the home of the Sun God, and these are his subjects.” He giggled, moving in between them and peering into their faces. A child wouldn’t have so much curiosity, nor the ignorance of danger.
His figure faded into the mist. Dobber ground his teeth and treaded into the garden, careful not to touch the figures. He looked around. Sir Polmar was gone.
His heart thrummed in his ears and his fingers trembled. He clenched his hands and found he couldn’t release them. Panic swarmed his mind. Where was the knight? He was running now, weaving between the verdant men, bumping into them.
Dobber found the knight standing in front of another giant, looking up at its twisted expression.
Its eyes glowed green.
It whipped its arm forward and grabbed the knight around the chest and arms. Sir Polmar screamed, writhing in the grip.
Dobber didn’t move. His sword hung from his hip, forgotten as the beast drew the knight up and bit off his head. The skull crunched as it chewed. Blood drained from the knight’s body, coloring the grassy ground.
Around him, other beasts began to wake, opening glowing green eyes. The giant took another bite and looked around.
Dobber ran as hard as he could.