Some call our planet Meld. Those who live here call it Cawnia. Back before history was written down, it had a name no one remembers.
It is said that a man named Henderin lived in the central region of this planet’s vast, single continent. In that mountainous area, hundreds of different beasts plagued mankind. Giant birds, cats bigger than horses, and trees that seemed almost alive with their vicious vines and thorns dominated the landscape. Henderin lived like most people in those times, barely able to keep the wilderness at bay as he fought to survive.
One day something changed in the man, drove him to a madness that none in the ancient world could comprehend. Instead of only killing what he needed for food and defending himself against the wilderness surrounding his home and village, Henderin went wild and killed all non-human creatures around him. No one knows why, but it was said he made a vendetta against the natural world.
Laughing, it was said, he burned all the forests and jungles. With fire and metal he forced nature away from his land. And though many now cringe with the idea of what he did, those of his time found inspiration with his message: humanity must dominate the continent. Under this idea, our ancestors came out of the darkness and put nature under man’s heel.
It was said that this became the battle-cry of our world’s first army. When all the many races of our planet had barely met, held none of their current animosities, Henderin formed a mass of spears and fire that surged across the continent. Wherever they went the animals fled. Wherever they marched the untamed forests burned. And in their path they left behind villages, farms and homes on the fertile ashes of the wilderness.
His life nearing an end, Henderin finally reached the southernmost shores of our continent. Like a pinned army, the last of the wild trees and animals huddled against the rocky shores of the ocean. No one knows how he did it, but this last act of the legend of Henderin is the reason he is endeared and not feared. There was no hatred in Henderin’s crusade, only a desire to aide humanity.
That was why instead of slaughtering the last of the wilds of the world, Henderin gave them freedom. His only demand was that they never again haunt the land of our massive continent unless they wanted to taste the fires of humanity once again. This unwritten truce stated, he let the wilds have a home. The legend says that Henderin bid farewell forever to the wilds of the world’s beginning and had all the peoples of the world dig. For a solid year they dug at the edge of the wilderness, and when they could go no further the ocean itself swept in, breaking the southern part of the continent off and drifting it away.
Since then, the island of Wilds has never welcomed a member of the human race, all daring to venture there never returning. Now, in the year in which our planet is named Cawnia, one man has done the impossible, and inspired me to take up his challenge.
The ocean cracks open with the bursting of waves and the roar of thunder.
“Hold on!” I cry as I grab hold of the rigging and brace myself for the long plunge. A massive wave has unfolded and I think I can almost see the bottom of the stormy sea through the darkness. “Iris, hold on!”
The single-mast ship plunges headlong down the wave and I nearly lose my footing in the forty five-degree drop. Iris, holding the rigging rope to brace herself, flashes me a look of anger as she and William try to keep the folded sail from coming undone in the unbearable wind.
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I can feel the groaning of the wooden planks from bow to keel to the iron-lined rudder as I strain to keep the long steering arm straight. A wide leather strap, its dangling chains bumping against my legs, keeps me tied to the arm as I push with all my might to keep the rudder from spinning and sending us out of control into the crushing waters.
The boat hits the bottom of a wave and climbs up the next right as the ocean bubbles and bursts with the crest of the water behind us. The force of the crashing wave propels us upward and I feel like the steering arm is going to break as I hold it steady.
A flash of distant lightning lights up the sky and for a brief moment I spot something. It may be the desperate eyes of a man near death but I swear I see a wall of rock. Have we reached Wilds?
“William!” I shout. “Did you see that?”
William strains his strangely good eyes to see through the sheets of rain, and when lightning once again lights up the horizon, he nods that he’s seen it. A grin cracks across my face as I look up at the mast. Mengs, that’s what we call ourselves, named after the man we go to join. We even made a flag to commemorate the group’s greatness, a dark green background with a bleached skull of a long-toothed lion in a burning circle of red. The skull is the ancient symbol of Henderin.
It had taken two years to prepare for this journey to Wilds. Nine people of the hundreds of Mengs who applied were chosen to join me. Now we are within sight of our destination.
Mally and Onis fall against the side of the ship as a wave nearly capsizes us. Shuddering in pain, they let go of the ropes holding the tattered sail in place. They collapse across the deck as waves tumble over them. I watch in horror as a little shred of the mainsail unfolds and instantly puffs up with the wind.
The arm almost knocks me off my feet with the shuddering push as the sail forces the ship to turn. “Iris!” I yell, pushing with all my might to turn us back before a wave rolls right on top of us. “Iris, help!”
William says something I can’t hear and pushes Iris toward me, grabbing hold of the ropes with one hand. In his other hand he holds a soaked, wooden quarterstaff. He tucks it under his armpit and closes his eyes, straining with both hands to keep the rigging in place as Iris rushes to help me.
Iris and I push the groaning arm that controls the rudder. Slowly, like shoving a house uphill, the arm moves and the rudder goes against the waves, putting us perpendicular with the surf.
“Where are we going to find a harbor?” Iris asks.
“Harbor?” I scream. “What harbor, I can barely see the rocks!”
William is able to wrench the rope down to the deck and tie it off, never taking his hands off that quarterstaff. As he does, I shout down at Haley to get the other rigging. Without me asking, William runs to the center of the boat and begins climbing the mast, fighting the rolling ship so he can fix the sail before it topples the mast.
Lightning breaks the sky and I barely see more of the rigging snap under the pressure of the gale. “William!” I shout as the mast shudders. Splinters explode out of the timber as a massive gust of wind cracks the mast down the middle.
I catch William’s eyes as he freezes halfway up the rigging. As if sped by an inhuman force, the mast snaps off and takes to the wind, crashing to the dark, raging sea.
“William!” Iris screams, no one but myself able to hear her over the breakers.
The ship is easier to move without the heavy mast turning us in circles, and I push the rudder from side to side to keep us level. A muffled cry calls out from the bow, a silhouette of one of my group screaming something.
The sea seems to drop away from us, falling down as if in an oceanic hole. My heart sinks in fear as we go down and I feel the arm snap off at its base. I hit my head on the wooden deck as Iris collapses on top of me and a massive crack erupts in the bow of the ship.
We’ve run aground!
I turn back, horrified to see an empty stern where the rudder should be.
I open my mouth to say something to Iris, then let it drop as I see what looks like a mountain bearing down on us. “Hold on!” I cry, clutching Iris close as a giant wave crests on top of us and slams the little ship into a gigantic rock formation.
As if a store of gunpowder had been set off in the holds, the ship explodes with a roar of crashing sea and bursting planks. The world collapses around me and I fall into the freezing cold of the black waters, reaching out for anything to hold onto.