Mysterious Island

Edward jumped out of the longboat into ankle deep water and shivered. The island he’d arrived at was a forbidding looking one. And he’d seen many during his life on the seas. Edward was a trader, a sailor and when necessary a soldier. Anything to make a profit. He sailed his little ship alone, reliant only on his own skill and experience. Edward had sailed this stretch of water many times but he’d never seen this island before, or even heard of it in the many ports he frequented. Rocky cliffs surrounded it; this beach was the only safe landing place.

Safe being a relative term of course, Edward thought. As if on cue the gathering storm clouds above flashed with lightning. A few seconds later the deep drum roll of thunder reached his ears. It was definitely not a safe night to remain on the water. With a grunt of effort Edward hauled the long boat onto dry land and allowed himself a longer look at his new surroundings. Dusk was beginning to sweep across the island like a grey veil. Squinting in the failing light Edward could make out a path leading steeply up from the beach to the cliff top.

Without further ado Edward shouldered his backpack and began to trudge his lean frame up the slope, keen to reach the top whilst he could still see his footing. As he climbed, the path got steeper and became coated with pine leaves. It began to rain. By the time Edward reached the top he was tired and wet so he took his backpack off to rest. The land here was thickly wooded with tall pine trees.

The rising wind began to howl as it forced it’s way between the uppermost branches. Edward shivered involuntarily at the sound. He turned and looked back down over the water. The last rays of sunlight revealed his little ship being tossed this way and that on the rising waves. He offered a silent prayer to Neptune that the anchor would hold her. Something else moving on the water caught his eye. Edward gasped as he realised it was his longboat being swept out to sea. Then the sun set and all was lost to darkness.

‘Well, there’s no way back tonight. I must go on’ He said aloud as if to give his thoughts conviction. But his words were swept away by the wind and even he could barely hear them. Edward could see almost nothing now, but the sounds of the storm were growing ever louder. Shouldering his backpack once more he made his way carefully away from the cliff and into the forest.

Gradually his eyes began to adjust to the darkness. The ground was still ascending towards the heights Edward had seen from his ship.

A few hours ago Edward had seen the storm coming and known that his small ship would not be able to ride it out. Being many days from port he’d begun desperately searching with his spyglass for somewhere where he and his precious cargo could wait out the storm. In the gathering gloom he’d spotting a light shining clearly from a small island. The island looked heavily wooded with a single hill at its centre with what looked like a house, which was the source of the light, on its peak.

‘So here I am’ Edward said, rehearsing his explanation for the house’s inhabitants. But again the storm whipped his words from his mouth. The trees began to sway more violently splashing rain down on his head. Edward lengthened his strides uphill.

His legs were aching by the time the trees began to thin. The ground became rockier underfoot. Edward paused for a moment to catch his breath. Then he heard it. The sound all lonely travellers dread to hear. From the forest below came the gut wrenching cry of a wolf.

‘Oh Fuck!’ The wolf sounded far too close for comfort, though for the moment still someway down the hill. Turning his back on the forest Edward began to run at full tilt up the rocky hillside. Behind him, carried to his ears eerily by a shift in the wind, came the cry of a wolf stalking its prey. Other wolf cries rose in reply, mixing in the stormy air.

Edward’s legs were on fire as he pumped them up the hill. He’d been running for several minutes and the wind had shifted against him, the full force of the gale working against his progress. It was becoming ever steeper and Edward realised he’d badly misjudged the height of the hill from the water. He was running up a frigging mountain! Boulders rose up out of the dark ground like silent sentinels. Edward ran around them, as the rain became snow, each flake stinging when it landed on his bare skin.

Edward had not heard any wolves for some time so he risked a look behind him. Several hundred metres below dark shapes were detaching themselves from the black of the forest and moving up the slope with disturbing ease. Edward renewed his assault on the slopes above him. The boulders grew in size and number eventually forcing him to take a narrow path between them. The trail wove back and forth up the mountainside. Edward had no idea where it went, only that it was going uphill, away from the wolves.

The moon provided the only light. It was constantly strafed by fast moving clouds. One moment he could see where he was going, the next he was blind, trusting his footing to luck. Fortunately the trail seemed well used and free of pitfalls. Abruptly the weaving trail became a flat ledge. Two wild mountain goats huddled together for warmth up against a rock face, bleating at his approach. The wind was still downhill; they had no idea of the wolves’ approach.

The ledge was about three metres in diameter and was only accessible from below via the torturous route Edward himself had taken. The goats were sheltering from the wind against the vertical cliff where the ledge ended.

‘Please, please let there be another way outta here!’ He remonstrated to the heavens. The only reply was the wind and…The cries of a wolf pack on the hunt. Then, as if some all-powerful deity had heard his pleas a gap in the clouds threw moonlight down upon another path leading further up the mountain. With a sad farewell to the doomed goats Edward made haste up this new path.

This path led upwards between two vertical sides of rock. Occasionally the wind would blow small rocks down from the sides and dust into his eyes. Water was running beneath his feet. Taking a sudden turn to the right the path ended. There was no way out! There was just a small area a couple of arm spans in width. A tiny stream bubbled out of the ground and ran back the way he’d come.

His heart was pounding so hard Edward thought he would faint. In desperation Edward tried to scale the shear rock face in front of him. One handhold up, one foot jammed into a narrow space and crash! Edward was pitched down onto the hard ground as his handhold crumbled beneath his grip. Edward cried out in pain as his left ankle crumpled beneath him. There was a sickening crack.

Pushing himself up with one arm against the rock face Edward gingerly tried putting some of his weight on his left ankle. ‘Ouch!’ It was at least badly sprained, maybe broken.

Something shiny on the ground caught Edward’s attention. He had spotted a rusty old broadsword. It was well made and despite the time it had spent under running water words could still be made out, etched on the blade. They simply said, Eric. Edward spotted something else, old bones. They had been gnawed clean. Some looked as if they had been bitten clean in half! So this is where poor Eric met his end, Edward thought sadly. He’d never known this man, but Edward felt a deep empathy for this fellow traveller. Like him, Eric must have been driven up the mountain and trapped by the wolves.

From below the bleating of the mountain goats was suddenly cut off amidst the snarling of wolves. Oh my god! I’m dead he thought. Ten years of travelling the seas, defying the odds and at last time has caught me up.

Edward cast a fearful eye down the path. Low and behold yellow eyes greeted him from the darkness.

Balancing on his good right leg with his left arm against the rock Edward gripped the hilt of his cutlass. With a clear metallic ring he drew it. ‘Come on your whoresons! Who wants to be the first to die!’

As if in reply to his challenge the darkness below resolved itself as three huge wolves approached. Their feral eyes implored him to give in but their huge fangs dripping with anticipation showed him there would be no mercy. With a ferocious stroke Edward cut the leader, a huge black wolf the size of a small pony. With a yelp of pain it leapt back licking it’s bloodied leg.

It’s two companions snarled as they edged forward. Both were large and grey and cunning looking. One of them only had a single eye. It seemed to glow all the more fiercely with lust for blood.

Their gaping maws were already bloodied and dripping. Edward guessed these two had been the end of the hapless mountain goats. The wolves approached Edward as far away from each other as possible in the restricted space, in an effort to encircle him.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ Edward slashed out at the nearest wolf and it backed off. It turned its sole yellow eye on him and growled.

‘Get away!’ Edward struck out at the other wolf narrowly missing it.

More wolves were gathering impatiently behind the great black leader. They yelped their subservience at him, but Edward wondered how long they would be held back. Eventually he would be torn to pieces!

Suddenly something light hit Edward in the back of the head. Edward risked a quick look behind him holding his cutlass out in front of him to ward off attack. It was a rope! Glancing a full ten metres up the rock face Edward saw a pair of thick arms and a strong face highlighted in the moonlight. Edward quickly grabbed hold of the rope with his left hand, wrapping it round his forearm. Around him in the darkness the yellow eyes moved closer.

Abruptly Edward was hauled off the ground and into the air. Arm over mighty arm the mysterious man was pulling him up the rock face! Below him the wolves burst forward desperate now their prey would not escape. One wolf made a leap for him, now several metres in the air. Edward slashed his cutlass down to meet it and it fell back into a tide of its brethren and did not rise again.

When he was close enough Edward threw his cutlass onto the ledge. Then with help from the stranger, he scrambled up to safety. He hit the ground with a thump, his heart pounding with exertion and excitement. Below him the wolves bayed in frustration. Looking down he could see their terrible yellow eyes. Standing taller than any of the others, the great black wolf looked back at him. It bayed out once as if in parting, then turned and moved back into shadow. The rest of the wolves followed, heading back down the mountainside.

‘You’ve been lucky my friend.’ Said the stranger ‘Not many can say they’ve survived a night on wolf isle’

The stranger had long blonde hair, held back in a ponytail. He had a strong face that had been weathered by a life at sea and keen blue eyes. He looked muscular and strong and wore the raiment of the Vikings of old.

‘One man that can stake that claim is the old man on-the-hill.’ The stranger went on. ‘You can make your way up to his house in the morn, the slope is not too steep.’

Edward was sitting on a grassy ledge. He was nicely sheltered from the rain by a stoic solitary tree. Above him the stars were coming out to accompany the moon as the storm clouds gradually dissipated. The slope was indeed gentler from here on, although with his ankle it would be difficult in the dark.

‘But you should not attempt it in the darkness, my friend’ The man said as if in reply to Edward’s thoughts. As he spoke he was skilfully kindling a small fire. ‘The storm has passed, you should rest tonight and in the morrow make your way to the old man’s house. He will welcome you.’

Despite his curiosity Edward was indeed finding it difficult to stay awake. With the fire warming him he settled back, his head against his backpack. But he had to ask one thing before he slept.

‘You have saved my life stranger! Let me know the name I am so indebted to’

‘There is no debt my friend’ The man replied smiling. ‘You will know my name in the morning. Now sleep’ And Edward did.

In the morning the sun rose bright and strong. The sky was a breathless blue with not a single cloud in sight. Looking right down into the bay Edward could see his little ship gently bobbing on the calm sea. His ankle felt a lot better, it was just a sprain he decided.

Next to the fire, stuck into the ground was a gift. Edward somehow knew it was meant for him. It was a brand new broadsword. Etched on it was a single word, Eric.