River To Ocean
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In the morning, he awoke to find a small note from his father. It was short and simple: ‘Good luck, son. You’re a good man.’
He read it twice, then folded it up and tucked it in the inside pocket of his coat. He’d left his other possessions behind with the rest of the crew, but he couldn’t leave this behind as well. It was all he had left of his mother.
The ship’s doctor came by shortly after they cast off the lines. She checked him over for any signs of fever or infection, and when she found none she gave him a clean bill of health. The captain sent her on her way with an order that the sailor remains under watchful care until he could be examined again later in the day.
“You’ll be able to get out of here soon,” the captain said before turning to leave. “I can send you back to your family if you want.”
“Thank you, sir,” the man replied. His head ached more than ever, and nausea and dizziness were getting worse. If only he didn’t feel so tired!
His eyes began to drift closed.
“Just don’t die, now,” Captain White called from across the room. “That would make me look bad.”
The man smiled at the joke and tried to fight down the urge to sleep. “Yes, sir. I won’t die.”
Captain White stopped just outside the door. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, Mr. Smithson.”
Smithson managed another weak smile. “Me too, sir. Thank you.”
“Take care of yourself.”
With that, Captain White was gone.
After that, things became a blur. The man kept drifting in and out of consciousness as he watched the waves pass beneath them. When he wasn’t sleeping, he was staring blankly into space, thinking about how much he missed home, wondering what happened to the people who boarded with him on the journey—and wishing his name was something else.
When he woke again, it was night. There was no moon tonight, and the water looked blacker than normal. Something felt wrong.
As the man turned to check on his bunkmate, he saw the other sailor already awake. He lay motionless on his bunk, his eyes open wide like those of some dead thing. The man stood up slowly. He had to move carefully because every time he moved his head the pain made him gasp. But he had to know.
“How are you feeling?”
His bunkmate didn’t answer.
“Are you alright? Can you speak?”
Again there was no reply.
The man reached forward to shake the other sailor’s shoulder. He grabbed his arm first; when he touched his skin, the man recoiled in shock. The other man’s flesh was cold. As the man pulled back his sleeve, he noticed the man’s hand was missing.
“What is happening?!”
There was no response. Only silence.
The man’s heart pounded against his chest. Fear took hold of him. What did it mean? Had his bunkmate died without saying goodbye? Was he going to wake up one day himself and have nobody? What would happen next? Would he lose everything he held dear?
He looked around frantically for help. The captain wasn’t in sight, nor was anyone else. The men on the lower deck were asleep.
The man gripped the railings tightly. He thought he might faint. The fear was overwhelming. He started to tremble violently. He squeezed his eyes shut. In a flash, he was somewhere else entirely, somewhere dark and cold. A voice spoke to him.
“I am coming. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
Then the darkness swallowed him whole.
***
The next time the man awoke, the sun had set. The sky above them was clear and cloudless. The ship rolled slightly from side to side as it cut through the water. All seemed normal.
Except…
The man sat straight up in bed. For the second time since leaving the river, he felt like he was dreaming. This time, however, the dream was different. It wasn’t as vivid, less intense. More real.
For several long minutes, he stared at nothing while trying to understand where he was. He remembered the words spoken to him before, the voice speaking to him. The man searched the room for anything familiar. Nothing jumped out at him. Then he realized the sound.
Someone was crying.
At first, he thought it was someone else in the same cabin. Maybe it was the steward or a sailor. That would explain why the person was alone, right?
But then he heard the sobbing come from the opposite end of the hall, near the stairs leading to the upper decks. And not just one cry, but many. At least four. Perhaps five. Or six. No, seven. Yes, definitely seven.
The man quickly threw on his clothes and ran down the hallway. With each step he took, the sounds got closer, and louder. Soon, he rounded the corner and stopped short.
A young boy was curled up in the middle of the corridor. Tears streamed down his face. He whimpered as he cried softly. The boy sat with his legs crossed, rocking back and forth as he clutched a teddy bear in his hands.
Something inside the man snapped. With a roar, he charged toward the boy, screaming as loud as he could.
“Who are you?! What do you want here!”
The boy’s mouth fell open in surprise. His eyes darted everywhere as if he couldn’t believe this stranger suddenly appeared.
“Get out! Get out of my house! I don’t need you anymore!”
The boy bolted away from him, running up the steps two by two until he reached the top of the stairs. The man followed closely behind. He slammed into the boy, sending him stumbling backward. The boy fell onto the floor and slid along the wood planks.
The man kicked him hard in the stomach. The boy let out another painful wail.
“You’re mine now!”
The man picked up the child by the collar and threw him over his shoulder. “And you’ll listen to me. Understand? You’re mine now!”
The boy screamed all the way to the bottom of the staircase, where they entered the main corridor. They continued to run until they reached the stern. Once inside the cabin, the man laid the boy on his bunk and turned to look at him.
“Why won’t you stop crying?!”
The boy refused to say a word. Instead, he wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face deep within them.
“Don’t you know who I am?!”
Still, the boy said nothing.
“Well, I’m your new master.”
The boy still didn’t respond.
“No matter what happens,” the man said firmly, “you will obey me.”
With that, he left the room.
When he returned, he found the boy staring at him in shock. His expression told the man something had changed. Something was different. But what?
The man opened his mouth to ask, but he closed it again. After all, the boy hadn’t answered him either.
That night, the man woke to find the boy standing at the foot of his bed.
“What?”
“My name is Wren.”
The man’s eyes widened in disbelief. He stared at the boy, unsure how to react.
Wren slowly moved forward until their faces were only inches apart. Their noses touched, and the man felt his breath catch in his throat.
“Are you okay?” the boy whispered.
The man nodded.
“Good. Because I have something to tell you…”
He waited patiently, but the boy remained quiet.
After a few moments, Wren finally spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”
***
“I remember everything, Wren. I remember it all.”
Wren nodded in agreement.
The man sat up and leaned against the headboard. A smile spread across his face. He looked at the boy sitting across from him, then back to the sea.
“Do you hear those waves crashing outside?” the man asked.
Wren glanced out the window, watching as the water splashed against the ship’s hull. “Yes.”
“It’s because we’re moving.”
The boy’s gaze returned to the man. “How can you be sure?”
“Because I built us, Wren.”
The boy gazed at him in awe. “Me? But…how?”
“You’re smart. I taught you well.”
“Then I must be.”
“Not yet,” the man replied. “But you will be. We both will.”
They shared an awkward moment before Wren asked, “So what now, Captain?”
The man smiled. “Now, we go home.”
For weeks, the man led them through the dark, damp tunnels beneath the city. As time passed, the walls became less cramped, allowing them to walk side by side. Eventually, the passages even opened up, allowing the two to pass freely through the maze without fear of being trapped.
One day, they emerged near the center of the city. It was much larger than it appeared from above ground—a labyrinth of winding streets filled with shops, taverns, warehouses, and homes. All of these buildings were connected by narrow staircases leading up to each building’s entrance.
As they made their way toward the heart of the city, Wren spotted a large stone building looming overhead. Its massive pillars held up its roof, which was supported by arches on the sides. On the front wall of the building, a bronze plaque read: The Royal Palace.
“There it is, Wren. Our home.”
Wren stopped in place, gazing at the palace. Then he began to run toward it, jumping and spinning along the way. When he reached the doors, he pounded his fist against the brass knocker. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a young girl.
“What’s happening here?” she demanded. She stood tall, her blonde hair tied into a bun atop her head. Her green eyes scanned Wren’s body, taking note of every detail. Finally, she gave a small nod and stepped aside, allowing Wren access to the courtyard.
Wren rushed past the woman and headed straight for the balcony. There he found the man leaning against one of the railings, looking down at the bustling city below.
“We did it,” Wren said proudly. “We really did it.”
The man nodded. “Yes. And soon we’ll make it official.”
“What do you mean?”
The man gestured toward the city. “We need to take control of this kingdom. That means finding a king to rule over it.”
“And if there isn’t one?”
“Then we create one.”
The boy tilted his head in confusion.
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘the king has no clothes’?”
Wren shook his head. “No, sir.”
“In other words, a king is just a man like any other. He needs to earn respect from people. They won’t follow someone simply because he’s wearing fancy robes or a crown.”
The man turned and looked directly at the boy. “People are ruled by strength, not titles.”
Wren’s expression shifted to shock. “You want me to kill him?”
“Kill him? No. I don’t think that would be necessary.”
“Oh. You mean to make him our puppet?”
The man laughed. “Exactly!”
A smile grew upon Wren’s face. “Well, then let’s get started! We’ll start by making him look strong. Maybe we should give him a sword. Or better yet…”
“Or better yet,” the man interrupted, “we could use something more permanent.”
Wren froze. His eyes widened, and he stared blankly ahead.
The man watched his son closely, knowing exactly how dangerous it was to wield such power. After all, he had already lost his own wife, children, and mother when he first discovered the ability within himself.
“What’s wrong, Wren?”
“Nothing,” he replied, forcing a grin onto his face.
“Is there anything else you’d like to see inside?”
“Just the castle, please. And maybe some guards.”
The man chuckled. “All right. Let’s go.”
The End