Colón
“On far horizon of wide water, dark creatures rise in shadow against the light of the rising sun.”
I gaze out at these epic waters, knowing the world to be a vast horizon in the eyes of my people, as we fish on the seas of salty brine in a realm of endless laughter and honorable brotherhood.
The reflection of the rising sun on the green waves — so golden and bright — as the life-giving light rises into the amber clouds laced with streaks of crimson, shines a path no man can walk, despite the temptation to get wet anyway.
The chill of winter bites on a breeze from the north. I breathe deeply of the sharpness in the air, a lingering scent of ozone foreshadowing the hard times yet to come.
The beauty of the sunrise sky, flaked with cloud and spotted with seagull above an endless, unbroken horizon… now broken by silhouetted shapes in the distance.
What are these dark creatures that ride atop the edge of this world — great fish breaching the tide — and what purpose have they in appearing so suddenly, invading my mellow reverie?
The continuous crash of the waves on rock ebbs and I can make out echoes rebounding across the water: voices in words I cannot comprehend.
A panic arises beneath my curiosity and I turn away, seeking to find someone who may have answers to my sudden fear, where no lingering sense of dread had been mere moments ago.
Racing as fast as my mind, my body bursts from the grove of trees into the clearing where my village and my people live peacefully, lacking need or want in this land of abundance.
I seek out and find the Elders, then blurt out what I have seen. First Elder places his hands on my chest, passing to me the warmth of calm within his experienced mind and heart.
“On far horizon of wide water, dark creatures rise in shadow against the light of the rising sun.”
My brothers and sisters of our tribe gather around.
“Strange sounds and voices speaking cryptic words drift on the wind. Come see.”
Curiosity and concern at my emotional state alight within their eyes, and they all follow me back through the trees to the shore.
We gaze at the growing darkness approaching our world: massive beasts of shadow slicing their way into our minds, as sharply as they slice their way through the sea before us.
“Bring boats and let us seek the nature of these creatures riding our waters,” First Elder commands. His eyes are cold, with a glint of concern and recognition. “Bring also our weapons.”
Our brave men and women return after a brief departure, arms laden with bows, quivers of arrow, and spears. Our strongest carry boats across their shoulders, heading for the shore. We will meet the black shadow creatures with strength and courage.
I am given the honor — as first seer — of leading the expedition to take on this threat, this menace to our world. I launch with the first boat.
Finding my footing in the swaying wooden shell beneath me, I lock my toes into the straps which will hold me standing in place, as we embark toward the looming darkness.
The voices and shouts of the obscure creatures — three of them now before us — pierce the cold wind that sends chills through every person in our fleet.
Suddenly, one beast drops its wings to reveal a great spire, a spike of such height; it must be preparing to attack.
In the boat beside me, my brother suddenly falls with a scream, and thunder claps the air as his shoulder spouts a torrent of blood.
Unleashing our sharpest, longest spears and arrows, we send a volley to the heart of the beast before us, central of the three and closest at hand, as it must have brought on this wound to my brother.
My sister tears a slip of her woven cloth and presses it against my brother’s wound, staunching the flow, as I turn, with determination, to face the evil before me.
It is hours later, as I rise from the sand soaked with blood and salt water, that I begin to realize that something impossible has invaded my world.
Looking around, I can see in the distance that these three mammoth beasts have come to a halt off shore and launched boats of their own, containing creatures of odd fur and skin that reflects the glare of the sun.
My wounds are minor, mere scrapes compared to the invisible lightning strikes and horrible nightmare of thunderclaps which took the lives of every member of my fleet, whose blood I am soaked in.
My sisters and brothers: all dead. Their bodies floating on the sea and washing ashore as I clear my lungs of the salty brine, spitting blood and terror from me onto the sand.
Shouts and cracks of thunder rise from the boats as they land. The creatures exit, forming a tight circle around a taller one, the leader.
Looking around on the beach, I find several weapons, all broken into splinters. What flesh can resist our sharpest points and bring such ruin to our strongest spears?
Crouching low, I shuffle over to a cluster of sea grass bushes and watch as these creatures — standing on two legs — flow from atop the darkness of their behemoths, to their boats, to the shore.
At the snap of a twig to my right, I glance quickly to confront whatever danger may be flanking me. Appearing from the shade beneath the trees, my last remaining brother — who had been caring for his pregnant wife — approaches me laden with fresh weapons.
Handing me a spear, he drops the arrows and two bows to the ground as I tell him of the slaughter of our families. His face grows cold, determined.
I can see the leader of the invaders gesturing and making odd sounds, like words that have neither rhythm nor inflection.
I tell my last remaining brother to return to his wife. I will take on this threat alone. I will destroy these creatures, and obliterate their giant shadow beasts.
Reluctantly, he follows my direction, but knows my nature and abilities. He clasps my arm and wishes me good fortune, then disappears into the shadows of the trees.
An odor hits me, a stench on the breeze; the musk of these creatures unlike anything I could ever describe. It takes a great effort to not gag at the foul stench.
Focusing on my task, a lone soldier attacking a force of more than two dozen, I make my plan of attack.
Blood spurts from the wound in the leader’s chest as I drive the spear into his dying heart.
These creatures are just men in thick hides and metal hats. They wield metal sticks that spout lightning and thunder, which I have been lucky enough to evade all this time.
Around us lie nearly 40 dying or dead bodies: the men from the first great shadow creature, which I now know must be simply very large boats.
The wound in my side spikes with pain as the adrenaline high and murderous rage of vengeance calms within me.
My hip and right leg are coated in blood: a mixture of my own and countless others whom I have killed today.
Despite their god-like lightning sticks and overwhelming numbers, I have slain them all.
I grit my teeth while I wrap my abdomen with strips of cloth from one of the corpses. The pain stabs its fiery blade through my wound, but the blood no longer flows.
I rise from the gurgling sounds of my victims and gaze at the massive boats before me.
Where did these men come from, so strange in their trappings and advanced in their weaponry?
Why could such a force not handle a single wild man?
With vengeance and determination, my mind had slowed the time around me as I launched every arrow, threw every spear at these men, with unfailing accuracy. Only the leader was able to unleash his long knife and strike me with it. Then my spear found his heart and he fell, as all the others had.
The bodies of my own family have washed ashore, littering the ground between the bodies of my victims. I fall to my knees in pain and weep for those whom I loved.
My sorrow is shattered by the clap of thunder as a hot fire alights in my heart and I look down to see a spurt of blood rise from my chest.
My breathing shudders, then stops as I look up to see dozens of men launching from the two other great boats. This tidal wave of death and destruction seems to have no end.
I collapse atop the leader of this invasion force, who is remarkably still breathing.
“Colón.” His last word. A word with meaning and significance.
My heartbeat slows as my body begins to tremor in shock and a coldness creeps over me.
A shadow passes over me as I am pulled to face the sky.
“Señor Cristóbal, ¿dónde estás? Capitán, ¿está vivo?”
I gaze at the beach from high above, like a seagull observing its prey.
The strange men pull my body off of their dying leader and my own empty eyes lay staring, void and dying, directly at my rising vision of this scene.
The men from the other two ships lift the leader, trampling my body in the process. I feel no pain.
I see the life leave the leader’s body as the men lay it in a boat and launch back toward their ships. Concern for my brother and his birthing wife flits through my mind only briefly, as I drift with the winter-brisk breeze and find myself tracing the path of sunlight that I could not walk before.
Over the horizon, I can see endless waves of men, blood, disease, stench, and death.
These things are aimed directly at my innocent, abundant world.
Being dead, I now know that my family was but the first of countless victims to follow.
END?
Copyright 2013 Xoandre
