Farox bloodsnow's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Farox pulled the trident from the surf and turned to Kai. The boy still gripped his spear, breath ragged. "Those things," Farox said. "Where do they come from?" "The water. They wreck my fishing grounds." Kai pointed down the shore. "They nest near the old tower. I've seen them crawl out there." Farox followed his arm. Far down the beach stood a lighthouse, boards nailed across its windows, its stone streaked brown with old rot. His problem sharpened. He had reached the coast, but he had no landmarks to fix his map. No town, no road he could trust. If these creatures bred near the tower, no trade road would ever hold. He had to clear the source. "I'm going there," Farox said. "Stay back." "No." Kai's voice went flat. "They ruined my waters. I came to kill them before you showed up." He fell into step beside Farox, spear ready. Farox saw the set of his jaw and let him come. They reached the tower. Two fish-creatures circled in the shallows below it, locked together, clawing and snapping. One drove the other under. Then both heads turned toward the men. They broke apart and charged up the sand. Farox met the first with the trident. He took the lunge on the three prongs and shoved hard, pinning it to the ground. Its tail lashed sand into his eyes. Kai darted past and drove his spear through its throat. It went still. The second creature leapt at Kai's back. Farox swung and caught it mid-air. The trident punched through its ribs. It thrashed, clawed at the shaft, then sagged. Farox pulled the prongs free. The beach went quiet again. Kai stood over the first body, chest heaving. "That's two less," he said. "There'll be more." But his shoulders eased. The waste stopped here, at least for now. Farox climbed to the tower door. The wood hung loose on rusted hinges. Inside, past fallen stone, a chest sat against the wall. Salt had eaten its iron bands to flakes. He pried the lid with the trident. It cracked open. Inside lay a folded map. Farox lifted it to the light from the door. Ink lines covered it, land and water, towns marked with small roofs, roads threading between rivers. Names he did not know ringed the coast. At last he could place himself. The lighthouse, the shore, the way back to the mountains, all drawn and true. Under the map sat a dark brown cloak. He shook it out. A faint shimmer ran through the cloth, like mist over water. He draped it over his arm. Kai leaned in the doorway. "Someone lived here once." "Someone who knew these roads," Farox said. He pressed the map flat on the chest lid and traced the inked line from the coast inland. For the first time, the path home was not a guess. Now he had to learn which roads still held, and which the fish-creatures had already drowned. Maybe along the way he will find who made this map and why it never saw the light of day and kept his village in the dark this whole time. Every answer leaves more questions.