Maybe he was just seeing things, Garin mused as the days went by. He'd first seen sign of distant long ships two weeks past, if his internal clock was working right.

It might have been wrong though. His provisions had waned, and he'd had to reduce the amount of food he ate. Sleeping for longer than a few hours was dangerous, so he might have been sleep deprived too. He didn't have to sleep as much as most other people, but rowing for hours on end still got to him a little.

Garin didn't think he'd slept at all for three full cycles. He'd woken up one time, and found that the ships he'd been thinking were getting steadily closer were getting further away. Now three sleepless days later he wasn't sure if maybe he'd just been seeing things. His head drooped, his eyes having trouble staying open.

His hands slid off the oars, sweat streaked and slippery now. He lost his balance, tried to stand and found the boat listing to one side, one of the oars falling off it's perch. He scrambled, panicking when he fell in after it.

Then he remembered he knew how to swim. He chuckled when he was back on his boat, looking at the distant ships with longing as they moved further. He'd not slept for days, and yet they just moved further. He needed to rest. He needed to sneak onto the ships and stowaway.

He needed food! His eyes shot open, and he looked around the boat with frantic eyes. His heart sank. He started to sigh, but it ended in a yawn.

It had been pointless. He didn't want to believe that, but the proof was right there. Might as well rest up, he thought, to make one more push. The last thing he saw before his eyes finally closed was the sails, so tattered with age and so very far away.

*****

Maybe it had been destiny after all. Garin really wanted to believe that. He also wanted to believe he'd survive this new test.

He didn't know how long he'd slept but he knew where he'd woken up. On the wooden deck of a vessel a lot like his but a lot bigger. The ships the former Islanders used were more like long boats than anything, but they were big and sturdy.

There was a shed built into the wood, divided into two rooms. One served as the captain's cabin, and the other was a storage shed. The rest of the crew and prisoners slept under the weather, it seemed.

Garin was tied up, of course he was. There was a whole crowd there, discussing what they'd do with him.

“I say just kill him and be done with it,” one man said dismissively.

“I think we need to find out what the hell happened on the island. Why wouldn't they let us anywhere close to it? It is still our home.”

“Oh, grow up, won't you?” someone said bitterly. “We are the rejects. That's not our home anymore. I wish I was strong enough to at least be sent to the mainlands.”

“Bugger that. What we do here is important. And what you're all suggesting would be wasteful. Sure, getting answers from him would be great, but we could just feed him to the island. The island needs blood, we all know this.”

There it was, Garin thought with a grin. Unbeknownst to them, they were going to give Garin just what he wanted. And they didn't know what had happened on the island. Garin wondered how he could leverage that. He didn't get to do too much planning though.

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“I think he's awake, boss,” someone said from behind and slightly above Garin.

His hands were tied to his back and his cheek was pressed onto the wooden floor, now stuck there by virtue of his sweat.

He couldn't see the man who'd spoken, but now all the men who'd been arguing were facing him. Someone picked him up, only managing to separate his cheek from the wooden floor with difficulty. It must have been red by then.

There were many of them, and they were dressed too nicely to be normal grunts. They didn't dress in the customary white robes of the island anymore, but Garin knew their clothes were expensive. A grunt from the one who was carrying him made him turn his face slightly.

And yes, he could see another group behind him even bigger than the first. They were generally younger, and were dressed like how he'd expect ordinary grunts. Then there were the benches on the edges.

The people there, some with long hair and slender builds but weirdly large chests and others bigger than any of the arch masters he'd ever seen. Some where dark skinned, others pale as milk, and still others were brown like him. Some were scarred, some young, some old. They all had one thing in common though, the ropes. They bound them, uniting them like links in a chain.

One of the well dressed men coughed, bringing Garin’s attention back to the present.

“How did you leave the island? No, why did you leave the island, and why are there no other boats leaving the island?”

Garin acted like he hadn't heard any of the questions, moving his eyes around like a nervous child, noticing that the ships had moved closer together, probably to let all the captains of the fleet take part in this conversation.

“Answer me you little shit!” the man who'd asked raised his hand to slap him.

Someone else intercepted him. The new man, his greying hair and beard marking him as one of the oldest around watched Garin carefully.

“Don't hit the kid. Don't you see he's in shock. He's never left the island before. Don't you remember the first time you set out too?”

“Aye,” said the first man, “but I still want to know why this one left the island so young? And why wouldn't they let us on the island? I wanted to go home.”

“It's not the boy’s fault we were not allowed onto the island.”

“Could be,” one of those behind Garin said, the crew members of this particular ship.

The old man just snorted, and something about the way he looked down on the other man had a flavour Garin recognized. Were they acting? Was he pretending to look down on him? But to what end?

“What do you know, kid? You've only been on the seas a few years, and suddenly you know how the island works better than me.”

“Here we go again. Old captain Sol, playing the experience card again. You are just old and bitt…”

Something flashed in the old man's eye then, something dangerous. He wasn't acting anymore. The voice behind Garin made some hasty excuses before he retreated. Garin could imagine him retreating with his hands raised and shaking in genuine fear, based on what he could hear of his voice.

One of the other captains snorted, muttering something about young idiots under his breath.

“Still, what do we do with the kid? He's too far out to sea. How could he have survived all this long without food? Unless…”

All the captains shared a look with gently raised brows, and when they looked back, some were grinning like they'd discovered the treasures of the sea, others looked bitter, some thoughtful, but the old man whose name Garin had just learnt winced for a second before he changed his expression to one of thoughtfulness.

He had already figured out whatever the others had just now put together.

“That's not possible,” he shook his head vehemently, “he is too young.”

“They might be looking for him, returning him might make us heroes, rich,” someone else said, ignoring Sol’s statement, and making Garin's heart start up a racket.

Sol snorted. “If he was an advanced acolyte at this age, why the hell would he be off the island? A genius would never even get near to the shores.”

“He might have been carrying out some chores on the water when a storm suddenly sent him out to sea,” someone else tried to explain, though his voice tapered off at the end. “No one can survive that long without sustenance unless they can draw power directly from the spheres,” the man said with renewed vigour, as if he'd found a lifeline.

“I don't like this. I don't like the implications. We just throw him over board and get it over with,” one of the men with bitter expressions said, and Garin realised they were the majority when a chorus of voices agreed with him.

“No. I think we should just stick to the original plan. We should take him to the island,” someone suggested, and Garin frowned when he noticed this particular man had been standing next to Sol this whole time.

Still, he had to work hard to show nothing but confusion and terror at the debate going on. Soon it devolved into a shouting match.

It was at this time that the young captain who'd been next to Sol started making the rounds. Garin thought he knew what was going on, but he just prayed he was right.

It took a long time for them to decide, but finally they did, and no surprise, Sol's side won.

One of the other captains snorted, saying something under his breath. Garin heard it though.

“That old goat must be up to his old schemes, trying to escape from the arch masters’s control. Delusional.”

Garin was relieved the plan was still on, but it was obvious Sol wanted something from him. He hoped it wouldn't get in his way, because he was fast losing patience.