The Awakening of James Island

Brown-green moss covered the curved rock wall of the tunnel, subsiding at the cave mouth where the sun reached in. James stretched his muscles, feeling revitalized in the morning sun, as if waking from a restful sleep. A refreshing breeze blew by, welcoming them into the light. Along with his unlikely companion, he made his way to the city outskirts a few hundred feet away.

Tyken Town loomed ahead.

Situated near the north eastern corner of the Carnan Sand Dunes—a vast desolate expanse of hot rock and rolling dunes that made up the southern half of the continent of Medropon—the city of Tyken Town maintained its industrial origins for the most part. The south capital was home to many factories and businesses, which were usually the back-end of more successful corporations, as well as a hub for local travellers. While it was a big city, it was nowhere near as internationally accessed or renowned as the main capital to the north, Victory City.

The borderlands were composed of sparse flat lands with suburbs of poorer communities and border control outposts. Various unfortunate or unsavoury groups were camped on the coarse land, having been denied entrance to the city. James didn’t need the newscasts to know the border controls had been failing as of late, and the outskirts had become a fairly notorious place. Few citizens strayed from the major roads or official pathways. James led Evan through a trusted path that the border-guards recommended.

A gathering of a small-statured species with bulbous, peanut-shaped heads watched them pass with big expectant eyes. Pots and blankets were spread among them, with several rucksacks and piles of supplies and utensils; a family’s belongings. A child ran toward them, whistling and chiming like a bell, but was quickly snatched up by an older family member who scolded with a deep resonating toll.

A small aircraft flew low overhead, its engine whining with a deafening rumble. Evan fumbled a step in wonder, watching the ship’s trajectory.

“Your city is truly a marvel,” Evan said, eyeing the tall structures ahead. “It has a god’s touch.”

“Ain’t a god looking over this place, I can tell you that.” James meant that with a hint of jest, although it came out harsher than intended. “The most you’ll find is a crazy warlock or an overambitious mystifier. And ain’t any gonna be well intentioned, that’s for sure.”

“Troubling,” Evan said with a frown. “I would not underestimate the gods’ reach. Nor their intentions.”

“You place a lot of faith in your gods.”

“Faith is unfaltering. I do not know of which you pray to, but their influence is only as strong as your will.”

“Must be nice, having so much faith in those whose care can’t be judged,” James said, staring off into the distance. While he knew the gods were merely from old stories, like the great dragons, he was unsure how to handle someone who claimed to be on a mission sent by them.

“Can be judged.” Evan’s voice rose in an assured manner. “I can tell you I have witnessed more than one god with my own eyes. They are truly supreme beings to behold.”

James was lost for words. How could he argue with someone who believed in having seen an actual god? He knew there was much he didn’t know out there—he was the first to admit that (to himself)—although he found it hard to believe that something from the stories, like gods, was actually real. Tam would have confirmed the existence of higher beings if they were real. He knew of pretty much everything, even in theory.

Evan’s eyes were on him. “There is much that troubles you, James Island.”

They came upon a border-guard station; a large wooden cubical with a glass door on one side. One of the guards spoke with a large male Muqgraa at that moment. The guard held up a handgun in his open hand, showing it to the tall figure. The alien’s scaled face was snarled in anger, his beefy arms raised up in protest. A second guard stood alert, stun baton in hand, watching closely.

James recognized the scene: someone attempting to enter the city without declaring their firearms. As the Muqgraa argued instead of showing authorisation for the gun or accompanying Trigger Switch, James knew there was no chance of him entering the city or leaving there with the gun.

Luckily, James was familiar with the second guard, from his ventures to and from Mount Volton. The border guard nodded them through easily, rolling his eyes toward the Mukk and smirking at James.

They entered a series of high-walled alleys, with a few low buildings showing around them. Discarded items and old food cannisters littered the ground; signs that people didn’t care about maintaining the area. A sour, smoky odour was in the air, perhaps from a cooking pot or open window. The bitter aroma reminded James of the fresh breads from the bo’Breih bakery in the Sab Sina market, the ones he’d never acquired a taste for. He wondered if there were a family of bo’Breihs nearby. He’d learned to identify the different smells around town that were associated with various species and their foods.

“What was that Adlaz saying?” Evan asked.

“The what?”

“Apologies. The… reptile man.”

“My guess is he could do with better hiding skills.” Seeing Evan’s confused look, James added, “Must not have had papers for the gun you saw.”

“Yes,” Evan said contemplatively. “Illegal possession of a Trigger Switch and compatible Armament. Correct?” He sounded like someone reading from a law book.

“Right. They have armaments where you’re from?”

“Our house guard carried huwls. Shock lances. The Armament Restriction Law is enforced there, of course, and successfully kept our lands free from fire weapons. Our city guards were enough to keep our lands safe. To a degree. A good sword is all you need, at any rate, along with a knowledge of sorcery.”

“Never been much for weapons myself.” James was unable to think of anything else to say.

Evan’s keen eyes darted all around them when they crossed through a small open area. When they headed into the next alley, he asked, “How do you propose we proceed?”

James realised he still didn’t know what was expected of him, but he was sure he didn’t want to hear more of Evan’s ‘mission’. “I really couldn’t say.”

He was stuck with Evan for now, but he’d have to be rid of him—or at least find a place to keep him out of trouble—before his shift at work started. While James was happy to play the role of Tam to the lost Voarn, he couldn’t forget the real Tam and the life he’d worked so hard to build. Maybe Evan could wait on site while James figured out what to do with him. Perhaps the Voarn could even help with a few menial tasks, and James could tell people he was a new starter. But that would result in too many questions.

Maybe he could leave Evan at the Togg’s Tale for the afternoon, and Annabel could keep an eye on him. But he didn’t know how to explain the situation to her. How could he explain it to anyone? Whatever James chose to do with him, he knew that Evan would have a far better experience compared to his own first few days in the city. And that thought gave him comfort.

“Is there anyone in the city who could be of help to us?” Evan asked as they entered a long alleyway.

“I don’t think so,” James admitted.

“So, it appears we are on our own for now.”

Once again James soon found that wasn’t the case. He wished Evan would stop saying that.

Halfway down the alley, a man stood against the wall. His black clothing could have once been lavish and high quality, but was now worn and scuffed. He turned his head to them as they approached.

James meant to stay clear of him, giving them enough room to pass, but the man in black spun to face them. James sensed the presence of someone else behind them but didn’t look back; this second man remained silent.

“Look at this,” the black-clad man drawled. “A little pointy-eared chapling, and his girlfriend.” His voice was young and high, with a scratchy, unpleasant undertone. The rough points of his sun-singed hair wavered as his head tilted, studying them with dark-rimmed eyes that never stopped moving.

James assumed the man had mocked his lengthy blond hair to garner the label as a girlfriend. He’d been meaning to cut it for seasons now.

Standing tall, James kept his voice level. “Don’t none of us want any trouble. We’re just passing through.” He tried to move, hoping the man behind wouldn’t stop him, but it was the man in black that stepped into his path.

“And so soon?” The man leered menacingly. “But we ain’t even had any tea, caught up, shared news. Lon, fetch the baqgra.”

“These are representatives of the ruffians of your town, I gather?” Evan asked.

“Ho, now,” the man in black laughed; a grating chortle. “Seems like you got us stamped there, mate.”

“He’s new in town. I’d ignore him,” James quickly put in. “Please, now if you’ll excuse us.” A hand flashed from behind and a knife point pressed against his throat.

“But we’re only just getting to know each other,” the man behind said. The heavy voice, and foul breath, was about a foot higher than James’s head.

The man in black breathed in a whistle when he saw the gold and black hilt on Evan’s back. He sucked his cheek in a moment’s thought before straightening. “Gimme the sword.”

Evan’s hand darted to the sword handle as he took an instinctual step away, and backed into a cushion of thick chest hair. James hadn’t even noticed the third man. The one behind Evan was remarkably large, and his bare sweaty chest practically enveloped the Voarn. A meaty hand caught Evan’s arm before he could withdraw the sword.

With the knife still at his neck, James tried to stand strong as sweat ran down his face. He wanted to swallow but was afraid of moving his throat. “Look. That ain’t gonna happen. We both know that. Just let us go.”

“Oh, we got a hero here,” smirked the man in black. “Show ’im what we think of heroes, Lon.”

Before the knife wielder acted, James burst into action and swivelled his body away from the knife. In the same motion, he turned and slammed his fist into the man’s long face. His wrist snapped back on impact, and he cursed himself for not making the blow stronger.

Evan moved with great speed, jumping on the spot backhanding the larger man’s powerful jaw. The overgrown man staggered, more out of shock, which gave Evan a chance to reach for his sword again.

With a shout, the black-clad man charged at James, throwing them both to the ground. They rolled and grappled; the gang member was wilder and tougher than his thin frame suggested. James became inundated with fists and waving arms as he tried to keep the gang member at bay. A fist to the stomach broke through his defences, taking the wind out of him. His eyes watered with pain as he looked for Evan.

Before a boot to the head knocked him unconscious, James saw the huge man pick Evan up. The last words he heard were, “See you around, hero.”

***

Darkness merged into a blurry light that gradually formed into a white building sign as James regained consciousness. His head pounded with a rhythmic beating. He soon determined a buzzing tone, which he realised was his sat-com. The sound grew as his focus shifted to it.

James felt like he needed an extra few hours’ sleep as he staggered to his feet. Resting a hand against the cold brick wall, he remembered where he was. He spun and searched the alley, ignoring the sat-com.

He was alone.

No signs of anyone, or anything on the ground. No markings of any kind to show a struggle had taken place.

Evan was gone.

The sat-com continued its incessant beeping, boring into his skull and preventing any thought. Closing his eyes and resting against the alley wall, James pulled the sat-com from a compartment on his toughlet, moving more by touch and memory rather than seeing. The tone told him it was from work, and that meant Tam.

He took a steady breath and opened his eyes, seeing sunspots dance before him, and answered.

“Hi, Tam. How’s it?” James tried to sound casual, but thought he sounded idiotic.

“Isles,” Tam’s gruff voice barked, speaking up over the banging of hammers and a saw in the background. “You’re already two jobs behind this morning. What’s going on?”

James tried to shift his thoughts into work-mode, fighting a headache. He checked the time on the sat-com display. His shift was only just about to start. How could he already be behind on his daily tasks? He made thinking noises while he found his words. “I’m on my way now, Tam. Sorry, just a late start. I’m on my way.”

Tam made a sound that could have been a grumble. “I want you here before the next bell. No stop-overs. If you haven’t had breakfast yet then you ain’t getting any. You got me? Now, Isles, here. Before it starts snowing.”

“Got it. Sorry, Tam. I’m on my way.”

“Right you are,” Tam said, disappointment colouring his tone. “Okay, Isles.” And with that he clicked off.

James’s eyes glazed over as they glanced at the gritted brick slabs of the opposite wall. When his mind shifted back to his situation, he became greatly fearful for Evan’s fate. He shook his head, immediately wishing he hadn’t when the pain bounced through his skull. Though the throbbing paled in comparison to the realisation that he’d failed Evan. The Voarn might have been better off without James trying to help, after all. Who knew where those thugs had taken him, or what they were doing to him?

With a shudder, he remembered the last time he’d been in an alleyway, disorientated and all alone. In a succession of vivid images, the dead beggar man and the dreadful hooded figure flashed through his mind. It somehow felt like he was still under the fiery sky, encompassed within the hood. A constant shadow over him.

James had to find Evan, but he also needed to get to work; especially with Tam so angry at him. He hated himself for his decision, but all those seasons of working, and living to work, proved stronger than anything else. He couldn’t let Tam down.

There was nothing for it, James would have to figure out what to do about Evan while he worked. He could always head away for a while if he managed to think of a way to find the Voarn.

The tension in his brows brought a stinging sensation to his forehead. He gently touched the area with the back of a hand, feeling the rough scratches the thug’s boot had made. Spots of mostly-dried blood came away on his hand.

Looking at his toughlets, James knew he could have done more to defend himself. The metal bands could likely do some damage if used offensively, he imagined. It just had never occurred to him to ever use them in such a way. He’d never thought of fighting anyone before.

But he should have done so much more.

Cursing himself again for being unable to protect Evan, James left the alley.

Several vehicles rode through the wide busy road as James jogged; the smothering air not helping his throbbing head. A large-wheeled truck shuddered by, throwing dirt and grit in its wake, with white smoke pumping from its exhausts. He crossed a side road that led to Belam’s Pass, and ran the rest of the way on the narrow, gravelled street, partly alongside a run-down jet bike as it chugged along.

Between two tall towers ahead stood the stone archway of Belam’s Pass; one of the connected pathways between the Addwood and Belam’s Way boroughs.

His legs burned as he rounded a corner, although he could now see the familiar skeletal building under construction further down. The road curled around a large patch of grass, which James ran across and passed into the construction site, seeing it thriving with workers.

The day had begun so surreal, he wondered how much stranger it could get.