A New World IP4

Island People 4

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Island People is a young adult fantasy book centring on a young prince. The book starts with his kidnapping and follows his adventures as he not only escapes from his kidnapper but gains critical allies and friends. 

The entire book is scheduled on Substack, and there are several sequels. This is a book I wrote years ago, so it is in a bit of a rough form. Critiques and comments are more than welcome, they are requested.

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Seth awoke with the realisation that his brain had been partly awake for the last hour or so, awake… but still sleeping. He awoke to a world that was exactly the same and yet completely different.

It was the same world he had always lived in… sun, sky, grass… but it was completely different. His senses were assaulted with a bewildering array of smells… but smells that he instinctively recognised: grass, water, flowers… and the overpowering smell of a rival male.

Seth glanced immediately to his right… with one set of eyes. He recognised with amazement that he could still see directly forward.

But, off to his right, there sat the Heroiini. But how different he looked. Before, he looked alien, “now he looked… Human. But his definition of ‘Human’ had changed. And whereas before he looked merely ‘other’, now his brain classified him as ‘rival’. It didn’t insist on an instant confrontation; after all, there were no females present, but it insisted that he remember the possibility. He could tell from the glances his rival was casting his way that he felt the same feelings.

For a while, neither spoke. Seth, on his part, spent this time experimenting with his new vision and smell, sometimes closing his eyes so he could ‘see’ only through the horse.

He knew, although he couldn’t tell how he knew, that he was actually physically joined to the horse. He knew he didn’t know how, but he knew that he could still get off the horse, that he could break the connection. But he also knew he didn’t want to. And he knew he didn’t have to. He knew he should have been shocked, should have been appalled, but he wasn’t. It seemed the most natural and normal thing in the world. The two, Seth and his rival, rode in silence for long minutes, each taking in the new situation. Finally the… other… Heroiini spoke, “What… what are you?”

Seth turned to him and answered slowly, “I don’t know. I was a Farmer. But now…”

“You are a Heroiini!”

“Apparently.”

“Can all Farmers do that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know I could do it. I didn’t know I was doing it. I just woke up like this.”

“How did it feel? Did it hurt?”

“Yes, in my dreams. I had horrible dreams. And over the last few days, I felt, I can’t describe how I felt. Dizzy, sleepy, like I was in another world, really. Which I suppose I was.”

“How do you feel now?”

“I feel… I can’t tell you how I feel; I have never felt like this before. I’m not sure anyone has ever felt like this before.”

Seth’s captor stared at him in silence for another few minutes and then, without saying anything else, turned his horse and led Seth on. Seth, for his part, allowed himself to be led placidly along and began to think.

They were heading west, or rather, just slightly north of west. The majority of the Farmers’ settlements here in the north ran from the foothills southward toward the rift, the only break in the line of estates lining the river being at the Great Ford. This Ford lay directly above the waterfall known as the ‘Little Waterfall’ (so named not because it was a little waterfall, but because it was half the size of the ‘Great Waterfall’ which lay farther west) and represented a concession to the Heroiini, allowing them to pass from one hunting ground to another without having ever to pass along the roads between the great estates.

The passage of the ford was probably the most dangerous point in the journey as far as his captor was concerned. This northern area was populated by Farmer families that were, for the most part, strong supporters of his Father, and many of them were his cousins. The closer that the two came to the Farmer estates, the more likely it was that someone would recognise him and seek to rescue him.

Of course, now that he was a Heroiini… well, would any of the other Heroiini be willing to help him? He had seen no other Heroiini, except an occasional mail deliverer in the distance. Seth knew how useless it would have been to try to get one of them to stop: they were too committed to their own job.

In any event, the next few days, including the passage of the Great Ford, raised no significant problems for Seth's captor. Whether due to some knowledge his captor possessed or just sheer good luck, they met no Farmers and no other Heroiini during the ride. He did notice his captor was careful to make the passage of the ford during the darkest part of the night, a time when most Heroiini (including “themselves) were usually relatively quiescent, the horses mainly standing still.

Each passing day also marked a dramatic intensification of the level of relationship between Seth and his captor. Heroiini are, by instinct, creatures of the herd. Any form of isolation is extremely difficult for them, so Seth’s transformation, although resulting in the awkward combination of two males, nevertheless awoke within both of them a need to join together as a unit, to form, however awkwardly, a ‘herd’.

Although he still withheld his name, Seth’s captor began to share many other details of his life. In particular, as was customary among males, he shared details of past hunts. Heroiini culture subsisted largely on materials gained from the hunt. While they had little need of the meat (not that they threw it away!), the hide and bone of the animals killed formed the centrepiece of the Heroiini economy, providing materials they used themselves for clothing, etc., and items that they would exchange with Farmers, Dwarves and other races. Heroiini shared their vast prairie with multiple species of large grazing animals, each of which formed a distinct part of their hunting calendar. Seth listened eagerly to these stories. In later years, he particularly remembered (and told his grandchildren) one story that his captor told:

“I remember one time, not long before I left my Father’s herd when we went hunting the Traon. No one would be so foolish as to hunt a pack of Traon, not without an entire army, but they, like us, have young males that are cast out, and we often hunt them. One of the boys, while riding as a scout, had spotted a solitary Traon, and had come racing back to camp. Leaving some of the Wives to guard the smallest children, the rest of us rode out.

“My Father found a shallow valley, and we rode all the way down it, straight down the centre, and stopped. I was the oldest boy, so I took my place at his right hand, my oldest Brother to his left. My other Brothers, I think we had twelve boys at that time (Seth started a bit at this. Twelve brothers! But, of course, his father had many wives.) ranged “out farther on either side, placing Father at the endpoint of a large V; the focus of the whole hunt.

“The Wives, daughters, and some of the young boys had gone out and were herding the Traon toward Father. I wasn’t with them, but I knew how they did it, since I had ridden with the women when a younger child. After they found it, they would gather around it on the far side from father and then would yell and bang things. The Traon, not that it would really be scared, would still wander away from all this noise. As it started moving, they would start riding in at it, making more noise and waving their arms. This was great fun for me when I was a kid. You feel so brave, riding up to this big beast who really just wants to get left alone.

”After a while, it would break into a run, away from the women and children, and so, when we first saw it in the valley, it was going flat out.

“You should have seen the beast! It was easily twice Father’s height (he meant, obviously, his Father’s height on horseback). He had an enormous, shaggy mane, and was dark brown, almost black. They have extremely sharp hooves, you know, and you could see the turf spraying out behind him.

“Father just stood there as the Wives drove the beast toward him, waiting with his enormous Traon spear in his hand. It doesn’t do any good at all to spear a running Traon, you know. You have to have one end of the spear in the ground and let him run up against the other end. And he has to run up against it fully in the chest. If your strike is at all glancing, his hide is so strong it will just slide off.

“My Brother and I stood our ground as well, waving our spears and shouting. We had to ensure that the Traon would go toward Father and not veer to one side, toward one of us.

“The Traon, seeing Father standing before him, lowered his head and charged toward him. Father set his spear and danced aside at the last second. The Traon swung at him with his horns but missed. That is how my first Father died, on the horns of a Traon. Father’s spear hit well but didn’t go in deep enough, or straight enough, to hit the heart or one of the greater vessels. I think it pierced the throat instead.

“So the Traon wasn’t dead, but he was very angry and turned toward me after trying to hook Father. I had my light spears, of course. It all happened so fast; my Father had dodged out the other side, so I was all alone, for a few seconds, with the beast.

“I knew what I had to do; I had to spear his eye… or possibly his nose. Those are the only susceptible spots on a Traon, or spots you can spear easily. But they know that too, and they always come at you with head down and horns waving. This one was handicapped by the spear in its throat. Its breath was rasping. There was blood all over the place. I could hardly see his eyes.

“I danced back and jabbed several times as he came at me and just got mane and horns. I almost lost my spear several times as he came at me and just got mane and horns. I almost lost my spear when it hit his horns. He wasn’t galloping anymore, of course, as Father’s spear had stopped him and was a huge handicap. And my horse was faster than he was. But I would lose all glory if I just ran away! So I had to stay there and keep spearing.

“Finally, I got him on the nose. Oh, he was angry! He backed up, snorting and shaking his head. By then, my oldest Brother had moved close enough and, racing up, sent a spear into his side. If you do it just right, you can get through the skin and the ribs. You still can’t easily kill one that way, but you can weaken them. My Brother did it well, and the spear stuck and stayed in the Traon (which is what we make them to do). Then he darted away.

“The Traon turned toward my Brother but turned quickly back to me when he danced back. I jabbed again several times, but I didn’t hit anything; then, one of my younger Brothers darted in and got him low in the abdomen. You can’t really hurt them there, and he almost got hooked for his pains, but I was glad for the distraction. While the Traon was chasing him, my oldest Brother got another spear in next to his first one. That must have been a very good shot, for the beast bellowed and started trembling.

“This made spearing easier, and several Brothers darted in again and again… they must have left a dozen spears in both sides. The Traon began whirling round and round… they do that when they are very bad off, you know… so we just faded back and watched him. When he was down, Father went in and cut his throat.”

“Why didn’t your Father help with the other spearing?” Seth asked when the Heroiini paused.

The Heroiini looked at Seth, amazed. “He couldn’t do that! That’s our job. What kind of Father would he be if he took our glory away? The Father takes the first risk… and it is risky. I have known herds to lose their Father’s three years running. But we take the second risk. I lost four Brothers to charges before I was eight years old.”

Seth told stories, too. While his hunting experiences among the Farmers were different from the ones that the Heroiini had shared, they still provided for plenty of conversation of the ‘young male’ variety. And the Heroiini was curious about Seth’s upbringing among Farmers: Farming, living in buildings, and what it was like to live with several adult males and their wives.

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