The Awakening of James Island

Chapter Two: An Unusual Meeting - Part One

A lone figure stood on a cliff edge in the early morning light, taking in the world around him. The city below had already woken, and the endless dunes all around welcomed the rising sun, filling the skies with spectacular oranges and reds. Brilliant sunbursts reflected off the few craft entering and leaving the city, their whirling engines reaching him through the wind.

The sensation of being high above the world, the peaceful calm it stirred in him, was the only real feeling he could say was his.

His name was James Island. And he was alone in the world.

Perhaps what made James Island different to most people was that he was born two years earlier. Or so it seemed to him. One day he just became conscious, born into the world a grown man.

Though the only knowledge he had of himself was his own name, he knew many other things. He could name dozens of planets, species and races. He knew the majority of the galaxy was governed by the Uri-Thuren Council, and of the Armament Restriction Law and the Great Wars that preceded it. Though he could not recall anything of a childhood, a family, or first-hand knowledge of having visited any specific places, he still knew of these other things.

Awaking those two years earlier, he found himself on this cliff top. Bewildered and disorientated, he saw his reflection in a small pool inside the inner cave system of the mountain. Where he first met himself. It took all his courage to eventually leave the mountain and venture into the city beyond it.

James had the general functions of an average grown man, an apparent lifelong ability to walk and talk and such, which allowed him to integrate into society fairly successfully.

Despite the life he had made, the cliff edge remained the closest to a real home he had discovered so far.

James awoke with the morning sun, travelling to his mountaintop hoping to find some peace and resolution from the horrors of the day before.

The image of the man he killed had burned into his mind—those cold eyes still stared at him. James often wondered what death felt like, even though he hardly knew what it was to be alive.

He called me a Prince... is that even possible? Did he really know me? James felt the welling of tears he was so familiar with, although none flowed then. How can I know anything when I don't even know myself? That was a thought which passed through him every day.

His temple throbbed, remembering the pain that had erupted within him when he went to that awful, terrible fire world. It felt like that giant figure had crawled into his mind, coursed through his veins, joining him in an endless blackness that reached into his soul.

The size of the figure reminded him of one of the mythological gods of Carnan, sometimes depicted as a great luminous being in the books.

His book...

He realised earlier he had left it in the alley, next to the beggar's body. He wondered if the body was still there, or if someone had found him. Perhaps a passer-by. Perhaps a child. Or maybe a patrolling lawman had come across the body and, somehow, was in the process of tracking James down from the book. He fought the urge to vomit, trying to find calm within the usually soothing breeze.

The wavering sun had now cleared the DuskMountains that lined the horizon. The southernmost region, The Ten Fingers, looked to James like the knuckles of a giant hand gripping the earth. He thought of them as a god keeping hold of the planet, if there ever was such a thing.

A rustle from behind shook James from his thoughts.

He turned at the sound, losing his footing. Stumbling back over the cliff's edge, he found himself falling.

James instinctively grabbed onto his beloved cliff. He hung there helplessly, muscles tight and burning. Dust dispersed around him, several tiny stones falling free, and the muddy smell of the mountain filled his nostrils.

A head appeared over the cliff edge.

It belonged to a small figure wearing a wide rimmed pointed hat, which immediately blew off into the open air, revealing ruffled wavy hair.

James had no choice but to grasp the small hand that reached out, and with an effort he was pulled up over the edge.

Scrambling on his knees, James hugged the rocky ground. His heavy breath brought up dust into his face, causing him to cough and heave. Taking a moment to master himself, he finally saw the stranger in the morning light.

James recognised the boy as a Voarn, the strange small beings he had only read of in books. His ears were pointed at the tips, though much less than his sharply pointed nose. The slant of his large brown eyes gave them a feline quality. A dusty green tunic billowed over his thin frame, baggy trousers tucked into silver highboots, and a short-cape clasped with a silver ornament hung behind him.

James's eyes were drawn to the large sword on the stranger's back, and his breath caught. The polished hilt was adorned with intricate gold and jet-black engravings. The sheathed blade was as wide as the decorated cross-guard, seeming far too large for the little Voarn.

James managed to say, "Thank you," in a shaky voice. His hands were shaking from the near fall, and a shiver ran through him at the thought of what could have happened.

Large trembling eyes searched James—dusty shirt, long shorts, wearing what must seem like peculiar items on his forearms—with an odd look of puzzlement.

"Where am I?" the Voarn asked finally. His light voice sounded hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in a while.

James was taken aback at the question. "MountVolton," he answered, though he had a feeling this wasn't the answer the stranger was looking for.

"Where..." The Voarn searched for the words. "What planet?"

8m'9

[Continued in Part Two]