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Meneka
You’re lucky you’re alive, you know.” Meneka squeezed the water from his shirt and slid onto the seat of the skiff. He lowered the oars into the ebony sea and leaned into the rhythm of the tide, casting a concerned scowl at his older friend. Kaempie coughed and wrestled for air.
“Why did you chase after the boat? You should have stayed. Your darling Silvio would need you.”
Kaempie pulled himself to an upright position, spitting over the side of the skiff.
“I nearly drowned. You’re a fool. Why did you get in the boat? We were supposed to stay together.”
“And burn?”
“Burn? Is that it? You were worried about your life? What about the rest of us? What about Silvio? What about Reuben?”
Meneka lifted his head as if the horizon could be seen, but it couldn’t. There was no trace of land anymore, nor of the two comrades they left behind. A thick layer of cloud shrouded them. It was so dark that he could barely tell the damp moist air from the ocean that they skated on. He eyed his shivering comrade with contempt.
“I’d be better off alone than listening to your badgering.”
Kaempie took off the leather that hung over his shoulders and threw it on the deck, a drenched rag no longer resembling a shirt.
“How far have we come?” the older wizard asked.
Meneka shrugged.
Kaempie moved next to him. “Let me row. I need to get warm.”
“Fine. Do it yourself then. My arms are tired, and I’m hungry, anyway. Blast you, Kaempie. Why do you always have to take charge?”
Meneka gave up his oars and scrambled to find the meager rations that had been tossed into the skiff earlier that evening. He loosened the tie to a leather pouch that was tucked under the bow, lips pursed as he pulled out its contents.
“The bread’s wet,” he said with a growl.
“You can still eat it.”
“Maybe you can.” Meneka held the soaked meal under Kaempie’s nose. “I’m not eating this garbage.”
They glared at each other. A gust of salty air blew Meneka’s hair into his eyes and he squinted, wiping the strands that stuck to the corners of his chapped lips. He tossed the wet bread into the sea.
Life had been rough for the sixteen-year-old. Kaempie might have hoped they’d survive, but Meneka knew there wasn’t any chance. Hope had disappeared with the rebellion.
The queen had ordered his father slain. His mother, too distressed to tend to his needs, sent her son away from Taikus. He didn’t have to leave his homeland. Hacatine was not a threat to the younger boys, not until they came of age. Being one of the last four wisdom-carriers, his fate was spelled out. Once eighteen, the Queen would strip him of his powers, just as was her plan for Kaempie and all the other men of the island. The souls she harvested magic from remained a miserable lot. She left them hanging onto a thread of life, worthless and mindless. If she felt merciful, she would kill them.
Now that they had escaped, the four young conjurers could never return home. Kaempie had been convinced that there was only one safe place in the entire world for them to run, the northern peninsula, where the winds continually proved themselves mightier than the wicked queen.
“We should have stayed with Silvio and Reuben,” Kaempie said softly. “Our power is greater when we’re together. We would have made it to the North on foot.” His powerful arms moved the boat over the crest of the waves with skill Meneka had yet to master. Despite Kaempie’s confidence, Meneka was certain the fair-haired teen was wrong this time.
“Hacatine has griffons. Vultures. They’re her eyes, and they’re everywhere. Besides, she was already headed for the Bandene coastline. Our only escape was by sea.”
Kaempie shook his head and Meneka almost wished he’d argue with him.
Anger churned inside of Meneka as violently as the sea tossed their little boat. He wasn’t bitter toward Kaempie, not entirely. But life had dealt him a raw edge, and he longed to lash out at someone. A good quarrel would be a relief. Resigned that he’d have to hold his temper yet another day, Meneka curled up in the bow, letting the damp wood of the skiff protect him from the wind.
Adrift on a dark foggy night, uncertain as to the direction they were headed, Kaempie rowed and Meneka let the roll of the ocean lull him to sleep.
When he woke, the sea had calmed. An icy breeze stung his wet skin and he shivered, opening his eyes to the gray skies and the call of a seagull. It wasn’t until he sat up that he realized what the gull’s squawk meant.
“We’re coming ashore,” Kaempie whispered.
Meneka sprung up, facing starboard over the bow, watching the activities in the distance. “There, look. Is that a welcome sight, Kaempie? Tell me that’s not a welcome sight.”
Not only were they nearing land but also, they were near civilization. Northeast of the white sands of the beach nearest to them, they saw workers tending to a fleet of small fishing boats. These were the shores of the northern tribe, and the small seaside village nestled at the foot of the grandest mountain in the entire world. Meneka laughed, rolling his fist in victory. “Yes, sir!”
Kaempie rested his oar on his lap as the boat turned about with the rocking of the waves. He sat silently.
“What are you waiting for?” Meneka asked, “Let’s go. Row.”
Kaempie shook his head. “Those are men. Humans. I think we should be cautious.”
“Bound-in-lightning right, they’re men. Those people have food, shelter, and dry clothes. Let’s go.”
“No, Meneka, wait! Taikans and men have no peace treaty. Hacatine has used her sorcery on these parts of the world before. There’s no promise that an arrow wouldn’t find our hearts before we set our feet on dry ground.”
“What?” Meneka snickered, and then spat into the salty surf. “Two boys like us adrift in the sea? What threat do we pose? You think they would kill us right off? I highly doubt it.” Meneka heaved his oar again. Kaempie grabbed his wrist and held him. The boy was no match for the elder’s strength.
“Stop,” Kaempie whispered, his breath like a snake’s. “I’ve had enough of your impudence. You’ll listen to me this time.”
“Why? Do you own me? Are you my king?
“Stop it, Meneka, I’m merely concerned for our safety.”
“Are you? Safety? Are you a hero? If so, where were you when my father died?”
“Quiet your voice before they hear us.” But as soon as Kaempie said it, he had fed the fire.
Meneka’s eyes widened, a grin stretched across his face.
“I’m not afraid of men. I have more power than any of those worms. You think I’m afraid?” His voice echoed from the bluffs that towered over the shore.
“What do you know? You’ve never dealt with men. You don’t even know what powers work against them,” Kaempie said.
“I know I have magic and they don’t. That’s all I need to know.”
Kaempie brought the boat about again.
Meneka stood in the center of the skiff. “Hallo!” he waved, calling to those onshore.
“Why are you so insolent? Be gone with you Meneka,” Kaempie said, his face red with fury.
Surprised by the sudden thrust of an oar into his stomach, Meneka clutched onto the slimy wooden pole. The two wrestled until the boat rocked uncontrollably. When Kaempie lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Meneka’s chest, the younger man squirmed. He kicked and finally bit Kaempie on the arm. The older boy grabbed him in a headlock.
“Free me,” Meneka cried.
“Not until you’re quiet.”
“I’ll never be quiet.”
“Then you’ll never be free.”
“Let me go.” With that, he released a scream that echoed against the bluffs and carried on the wind.
They’d been heard and seen shortly after. A crowd of people on the shore pointed at them, and soon boats were pushed into the water and boarded. Arrows flew.
“Help,” Meneka screamed when Kaempie released him. He scooted to the stern and faced the men.
“What are you doing?” Kaempie asked.
Meneka called out again, his eyes wild. He waved at the boats as arrows flew past his head.
“Get down Meneka. They’ll kill you.” Kaempie reached for his bow, but it was too late. Meneka dove into the water, leaving Kaempie to contend with the onslaught. The older wizard rowed as fast and as hard as he could until he guided the skiff around the point of the bluff and out of sight.
Meneka swam, turning toward the closest shore, his strokes strong and sure. He rolled with the waves as they broke onto the beach. As soon as he felt rocks and shells against his knees, he planted his feet deep into the sand and stood above the rolling surf. He walked toward his attackers.
The archers had abandoned their skiffs and ran along the beach, bows in hand. When Meneka neared, several of them stooped to shoot.
Meneka shook the wet and gravelly hair from his eyes and spat the sand from his mouth. The arrows buzzed by his shoulders. He ducked, dodged, and jumped away as they flew at his chest.
Then he did something that surprised even himself. He reached out and grabbed a projectile as it flew. The shaft splintered in his hand as he stopped its flight. He caught another and threw it to the ground.
“I knew I had powers over men. Look, Kaempie. You should be here. You should check this out.” He gazed back at the breaking tide, but the skiff and his friend were gone.
The attackers scurried away in haste. Arrows no longer flew; instead, the archers ran back along the beach from where they came. Meneka followed, holding their last flying arrow in his hand. He laughed. “Fools, you had better run!”
