Once upon a time, quite a long time ago, there was an island far
out to sea, out past where the young murrow swim.  The island was really
just the cap of a great mountain pushing itself out of the sea.  Jagged
rocks surrounded its shores, most of which were merely sharp cliff faces.
What really made a  name for the island, though that name has since been
lost into obscurity, was the curse it suffered.
	A longer time ago still, a great and powerful lord of air and
water fell in love with the most beautiful woman in the land.  He loved
her fiercely, and demanded her hand in marriage.  However, she was a wise
enough judge of character to see it would be a marriage of possession.
The lord of air and water had only evil in his heart and his love was but
a hollow desire to own the current object of his affection.  Bravely she
rejected his proposal, and suffer for it she did.
	The lord of air and water placed her upon an island far out to sea,
past where the young murrow swim.  She was placed high in a tower atop the
steeped cliff face.  She could view the world of the sea and the sky, but
she would never visit it again.  He sealed the tower against both time and
the elements.  In hot anger at her refusal, he barred the way to her
freedom, vowing that no one would have her if she would not accept him.
	Years rolled by, and the lord of air and water disappeared from
the face of the land.  The location of the island was lost to time and
failing memories.  The legend persisted among the sea going people, though.
Now and again a ship would return from a particularly storm tossed voyage
with a tale of seeing a light far out to the horizon like that from a
watchtower.  The tale would often include stories of dreaming of a beautiful
damsel weeping into the darkness, only to have those dreams disturbed by a
terrible bellowing unlike any ever heard before.  
	Such was the tale as it was told to a young man living in a small
village near the marshes of the murrow.  As a boy, his grandmother told him
stories of faeries and folk tales of the races that inhabited the world.
Some stories, this one in particular, stuck with him throughout his
childhood.  Other stories he found hard to believe, such as the tales of the
fire loving slana'ar, but having the murrow marshes a short span away, he
thought much of anything was possible.  Growing up in a fishing village with
a murrow community close by, he naturally took up the habits of the sea.
	Being a good swimmer at eight summers of age, one day he swam a bit
farther than usual.  This would not have been much of a problem, but recent
story weather had caused the tides to swell particularly strong.  Struggling,
the boy fought against the current threatening to carry him far out to sea,
but his strength was failing.  He was only eight summers, after all.  His
head splashed and bobbed in the current as he sputtered small cries for help,
lost in the wind.  A wave picked him up slightly, then splashed over his
face and he knew he could not swim much longer.  Just as hope began to leave
his body, he felt a brushing against his legs.  He began to thrash again,
having heard stories of sharp-toothed sharks attacking swimmers.  Suddenly
a form cleared the surface of the water and he gasped slightly in surprise,
to receive a mouthful of seawater as his reward.  Laughter greeted his
sputtering outcry.
	"Well, kicking me is a really good way to get some help!" said the
murrow before him.  He could see she was about his age, give or take a summer.
It was hard to tell with his eyes stinging so much from the salty water.
She flashed him a bright smile, one full of more laughter, as only murrow
smiles can be.  Then he felt one of her hands close over his and the other
grasp him around the trousers, and the two began to kick and splash their
way back to dry land.  He would spend the next day in bed, but upon returning
to the docks, he would find a murrow lass waiting to see if he was well. 
Such was the start of a good friendship.
	One of the first things the young murrow girl asked the boy was why
he was swimming so soon after a storm.  So the boy told the young murrow a
story about an island and the beautiful woman who was suppose to reside
there still.  Like any young boy with a little bit of foolishness in his
heart, he wanted to go to the island and see for himself if the story was
true.  He was out swimming in the strong current because he felt that in
order to reach the island, he might have to swim to the cliff faces since
there was no beach told of to land a boat.  The Murrow nodded, thinking
this made perfect sense as well as being curious about whether the story
was true herself.  
	The days of spring rolled by, as did the long nights of summer.  
The two were rather inseparable.  Finishing his chores, the boy would race
down to the dock area to see his friend, or she would come laughing and
smiling up the little path to his house.  The two would watch the sunshine
dance over the water, and wonder if it was the same kind of sparkle that
must surely lie in the eyes of that beautiful woman locked up on the island
so far away.  Other days brought the soft patter of rain, like the slippers
of a beauty pacing softly across the smooth stone floor of a tower far out
at sea.  Often they would spend a few minutes persuading his grandmother to
tell them stories, liking none better than the story of the lady and the
evil lord of air and water.	
	The years rolled by and the two grew up, as children are apt to do.
The sun set and the moon rose and the tides came in and went out as they
always did.  He grew up into a fine young man; maybe a little thin, but
strong.  Meanwhile, it was noted, with slight nods at the pair, that her
skin became the color of the sky when she smiled.  This she did often and
with great vigor, taking a slight plainness away from her face and bringing
in a lot of sunshine.  The young man was eighteen when the sun set.  The
storm was one of the worst ever seen by the tiny village save the ravages
of the Shattering.  For one young man, the storm and its aftermath changed
his life forever.
	The sky had darkened earlier, and grew blacker as the day wore on.
The wind began light and breezy but soon took a bitterly cold twinge as it
whipped over the tiny fishing village.  There was a tremendous crack of
thunder and the lightning momentarily blinded those who were looking outside.
Then the rains began.  Driven by the winds, the rain was freezing cold as it
dashed against the windowpanes of the house where the young man lived with
his grandmother.  The wind worsened and began to howl eerily through the
trees as the storm gathered power to hammer the coast.  It was then that he
looked outside and saw her struggling against the wind.
	She had been coming for a visit, to drop off something her mother
cooked up to help his grandmother breath better and to see her friend.
The young man raced out into the storm, screaming her name at the top of
his lungs.  She shouted back, her voice lost into the wailing wind.  She
was buffeted by the wind and struck by cold rain and wet leaves.  He raced
down the path as fast as he could, tripping and stumbling in the mud.  Then
they were holding each other close as they struggled to climb back up the
small hill to the shack.  The dirt and gravel slid out from under them as
the water flooded to the edge of the sea.  Suddenly a bolt of lightning
pierced the clouds and struck a tree overhead.  Cracking and burning with
fire, a branch came falling down towards them.  Screaming in terror, the
two twisted and landed in the mire.  The branch finished its journey to
the ground by crashing upon the man's legs where he had pushed the murrow
girl to safety.  He screamed in agony and the world went dark to his eyes
as he was overcome by pain.  
	He awoke to the sounds of dripping water and more blackness.  Then
a small hiss as flint struck steel and a small candle glow swam before him.
The candle flame revealed a small cave familiar from his childhood, as well
as the worry-ridden face of his friend.  She shushed him violently, telling
him that she couldn't pull him to the house so she had dragged him down to
the only spot she knew of where they might be safe.  He remembered the
narrow jagged opening they had found in the rocky shoreline, the way the
place was a naturally formed chimney hole.  He thought back to the days
when they would play pirates in their secret treasure cave, and then he
fell asleep once more.
	He awoke with a throbbing pain in his legs, his head resting softly
in the murrow girl's lap as she sat sleeping against the rocky wall.  The
slight movement woke her up as well, and a small ray of sunlight through
the chimney hole far above told them the storm had abated.  He looked up
to see her smile again and slowly sat up with her help.  The ache in his
legs was soon gone, though they still felt weak.  She said it was a bit
of murrow magic, and held up a small bottle that once held some medicine.
Together they left the small cave of their childhood and made their way
back up to the village.  
	His knees buckled and he sank to the ground in tears at the
smoldering pile of half burnt timber.  The tree that had been struck by
lightning had crashed atop the house with his grandmother still inside.
Crushing the roof in, the flames from the cook fire had licked eagerly at
the still dry floorboards.  Though the rain had put the fire out, all the
blankets and lamp oil and other goods his grandmother kept had burned quite
well.  Once again, he found himself being held close by his friend.  
	He cried himself to sleep that night, staying with a friend of his
grandmother's.  She was the only one to die in the midst of the storm, 
though there were several more injuries.  He slept for several days.  His
body swam with sweat from a slight fever, which broke after several nightmare
filled moments.  The murrow girl found him very bleary-eyed at sunrise the
next morning, sitting on the small boat dock and staring out over the water
at the last of the retreating clouds.  She swam softly up and put her arm
around him.  He shrugged it off.
	"I don't appreciate getting all wet this morning." His voice was
cold and hollow and she felt a twitch inside of pain.  She wasn't certain
whether it was hurt for him or hurt that he wouldn't let her help.  So she
just sat beside him and watched as the sun rose over the ocean.  She was
the one that noticed the black spot out on the horizon, the spot that
slowly grew into a ship.
	He jumped to his feet, watched intently as the half-sail came into
focus and the broken mast was evident.  The vessel came sliding through the
choppy water left over from the storm.  Whoever was captaining the vessel
was obviously heading for the relative safety of the small harbor.  As the
ship got closer, a crowd began to gather at the dock to watch.  Of immediate
notation were the broken mast, torn sail, crushed railings, and the more
chilling scarce number of people on deck.  The tattered rags of the sail
dropped as the lines were loosed.  The anchor rattled as it lowered, caught
on the bottom and pulled the boat to a halt.  A small group of people began
to ready a small launch from the larger vessel.  
	They had been victims of the storm and more.  Seeing the skies darken,
they had raised to full mast to try to run in front of the weather, using the
wind to push them to safety.  The conflicting wind had shattered that plan as
it left the sail in tatters on the deck; lines snapped and canvas shredded.
The storm had then overtaken them, leaving the vessel stranded to face the
full fury, out in waters the navigator did not know.  Lightning had struck
the mast, wreathing the crow's nest within a sheet of flame.  This was
quickly put out by the onslaught of rain.  The crew tried repeatedly to
seal below-decks from the weather, only to have the wind rip the hatches
and doors open again.  Several men were thrown about by the wind, some
hitting the railing and flipping overboard into the waves.  That was when
the remainder heard the screaming, followed by a roar that sounded like the
very ocean itself was crying in anger.  The boat shook violently from the
winds and waves.  
	Lightning flashed again, and those few still on deck found horror
untold.  A dark form, larger than their poor trading boat, rose from the
water.  The fate of the sailors blown overboard was all too evident in the
silhouette of the monster.  It roared again and turned its attention back
to the vessel.  Long and serpentine, it coiled over the deck for a moment,
smashing the railings and breaking the mast like a twig.  Some of the crew
fainted from horror, to be lost to the sea and the gaping jaws.  Those that
could threw themselves below, vainly hoping that they would be safe.
Throughout the night they were haunted by sounds between the slaps of waves
and the booming thunder, sounds akin to a deep-throated laughter and a broken
sob.
	The skies cleared to a blood red dawn.  The vessel found itself on a
near empty sea.  Far out towards the horizon was a smudge, which hinted of
land.  The second mate, now captain at the hands of the weather and the
monster, sighted the smudge with a watch-glass.  It was land, but a more
wretched mooring he could not fathom.  Level ground sat atop jagged cliff
faces.  Rocks and reefs barred the way to even that.  Meanwhile the crew
worked to repair what it could of the sail.  They caught what wind they
could, heading towards the only marker on the waters.  As they sailed
nearer, they saw crumbled ruins of stone, a moss covered likeness of a
beacon tower.  The only spot that looked like an even remote site of a
safe harbor held its own shocks.  The watch-glass revealed the marshy
land of a massive run-off.  As they drew slightly nearer, the watch-glass
revealed the rotted look of the plants.  Much of it was broken and crushed,
as if by a massive weight.  Cursing violently their misfortune, the new
captain had ordered the vessel to steer clear of the island.  They put as
much distance between them and the island as they could before night fell.
Gazing at the stars for hours that night and thinking hard of the storm the
nght before, the navigator had made an educated guess at best as to which
direction to sail.  Only blind luck and many days of sailing brought them
to the safety of the village's small harbor.  
	The story met with varying reactions.  The children of the village
shuddered in fear at the tale of the sea monster.  The more sensible adults
would remark on the delusions caused by exposure to the storm, then the long
voyage to port.  Some of the elders half-remembered a story from their youth.
She that would have remembered best died during the storm itself, but her
tale lived on in the minds and hearts of a young man and his murrow friend.
	He came to his decision sitting on the dock.  His grandmother was
gone, and all he had to his name was the clothes on his back and a small
boat left by his long forgotten father.  The boat was in terrible shape,
but he knew he had the skill to fix it.  Curiosity burned within him, as
well as a need to find something to make him forget.  A story from his
childhood with his grandmother now reached out as the only hope he had to
make sense of losing his childhood.  He sat on the dock, lost in thought,
as she sat with him.  
	They sat all day together, watching the waves and the fishermen
repair their nets.  The tradesmen gathered what supplies they could,
bartering to fix the mast and repair the railings.  The two sat lost in
thoughts of their own.  Towards sunset, he had firmly resolved to see for
himself if the story of his childhood was true.  He turned to her and asked
if she would help him repair his boat.  She sat puzzled, but happy that he
was at least talking again, and so agreed with well-known smile.
	She would come back in the morning to find him already cleaning
and examining the vessel.  She would leave that night with him still hard
at work.  It was as if something possessed him to finish.  His eyes seemed
to burn like coals when he looked at anything, and she shuddered sometimes
when his gaze fell on her.  Steadily the holes in the hull were patched and
a new sail was found.  Time not spent working on the boat found him with the
traders, gathering as many details as he could.  A week or two later the boat
was as ready as they could make it.  It was small, patch-worked, and the sail 
would tatter if the wind grew too wild.  He looked over it as if not seeing
all of its faults, only its possibilities.  He turned to her, stumbled and
collapsed.  He hadn't been sleeping, and now his lifestyle had taken its
toll on his body.
	He slept fitfully for a full day, sometimes burning with fever as
she watched over him.  He mumbled and sometimes spoke aloud in his sleep,
but the words were slurred and she couldn't understand.  It was the next
day that he began to gather together food, rope, and other items into the
boat.  It was the next day that she saw he was leaving for good.  She
watched him for a few moments blankly, until he gave her another glaring
look and asked if she was going to help or just stand there.  She blamed
it on his lack of sleep, but lately he had little kindness in him to her.  
	She helped him coil some rope and asked him how long he planned to
sail and how far out.  She reminded him of the new repairs being untested,
saying he shouldn't stray out far.  She put her arm around his shoulder and
said she'd be close by, and if it went well, they could go sailing together.
He shrugged her hand off indifferently and went back to coiling the rope.
She felt anger rise within her and asked aloud why she should help him when
he was being such an ass.  He turned to her.
	"If you aren't going to help me out, then you can leave.  This isn't
going to be a short trip, in case you couldn't tell.  I am going to go see
if those traders found something.  Remember the story my grandmother used to 
tell?  I'm going to find out if it's real or die trying."  Her head swam
violently and she dropped to her knees.  She felt ill, knowing he was
adamant and knowing her heart was broken within her.  He just turned and
continued with his work, his eyes burning bright again.  She crawled to her
feet and stumbled off with her life in agony.
	He finished the next day.  It was nearing dawn when the water
splashed nearby and a form pulled itself up onto the deck.  He glanced
over, then turned away.  She paused and then started forward again.  She
reached into her pouch and then pressed something into his hand.
	"Take these.  If you are in trouble, drop it into the water.  I'll
know."  Five shimmery spheres lay in his palm, all the color of pearl.  His
hand closed over them for a moment, and then he turned to her.  She had
already slid soundlessly into the water, leaving him behind. He tucked the
pearls into his pocket, figuring he could at least trade them later.  With
that, he pulled the lines and sailed out into the harbor, then out into the
ocean.
	He was several days out to sea, his mind intent upon his goal, that
he first encountered trouble.  He noticed one morning that the floorboards
in the small storage seemed to be damp.  Closer inspection brought fear to
his face.  His boat had been repaired as well as he and his murrow friend
could, but they were by no means expert.  The sea had taken its toll upon
his vessel, and now water was seeping through.  He went up onto the deck
and stared out in all directions.  The open sea greeted him with a calm
blue gaze.  He shuddered, involuntary.  He went back down below-decks.  
	The next day found the leaks worse.  He spent several minutes
scooping water out from the small hold with some rags.  Then he reset the
sails and headed for below.  Worry filled him.  The floor was becoming
almost soggy with the water flooding in during the few hours he slept.  He
knew that he was in serious trouble.  He worked to stack his dry goods atop
small shelves to keep them from the water.  As he lifted a box, he slipped
upon the floor and fell.  He heard the box clunk as well as a small
scattering sound.  He bent to pick up the small white pearl, fingering it
gently.
	He ran up onto the deck, seized with a ridiculous passion.  
Everything to win and nothing to lose was the closest thing to though upon
his mind.  He stood tall upon the bow and pulled his hand back.  Screaming
out into the empty skies, he called, "Murrow friend, oh murrow friend, I
need you."	
	The small pearl gleamed once in the sun then made the smallest of
splashes as it sunk out of sight.  He stood panting on the deck.  He was
uncertain what to look for.  The ocean remained calm, the sky remained
clear.  He laughed grimly at himself to give into such a fit of fantasy
then went below to continue mopping the water.
	The pearl hit the ocean and sank with the smallest of splashes.
She knew in her heart that something was terribly wrong.  She was swimming
then, faster and faster.  She carved through the water as lightning once
tore through the sky.  She darted past schools of fish and long plundered
shipwrecks, out into the open waters where the sharp-toothed sharks would
hunt straying youngsters.  She followed her heart, and her heart took her
past her hurt.
	With a sudden splash, she cleared the railing of the boat.  He had
just turned to go below, and whirled back in surprise.  His mind swam at
seeing her before him.  She pushed past him, not speaking but feeling weak
inside at seeing him.  She went below-decks and looked over the small hold.
Water was already starting to swell from beneath the boards to puddle in the
floor.  She removed her small pouch from her pack and removed a jar and a
small brush.  Rapidly she began to coat the floor with the gooey mess. 
Then she turned and went back upstairs.  She dove into the water and was
back again within a few sparkles of sun on the water.  She stood there
dripping water and facing him once more.  
	"I've resealed the leaks with some glue my mother made.  It should
hold, but it would be best if you turned and came home."  His eyes burned
at her words and he glared at her darkly.   She felt herself wither under
his fierce expression. He turned away from her and stared out into the
sun's brightness.
	"I thank you for your help, but I am going to finish this.  I have
nothing else."  She dove back into the waters as he continued to face out
into the sunshine.  The next morning found him in brighter spirits.  The
sealant was holding very well, and the floor below was drying out.  Though
he was uncertain how much farther he must sail, he felt that his quest was
a noble one.
	It was two days before he began to notice his supplies were spoiling.
The dampness of the floor had corrupted his food stores and his fresh water
was slowly dwindling.  He had started the journey scarcely eating.  The seas
and activity had brought back his appetite, but he had still limited the
amount of food and water he took daily.  Now the water from the leaks had
spoiled some of what he had left.  He threw this overboard to prevent the
mold from spreading to other food.  This seemed to have the unfortunate
reaction of attracting a shark, which stayed off the side to see if any
other snacks would be forthcoming.	
	His worries again began to grow upon him.  His attempts at fishing
were unsuccessful, given the presence of the shark.  He felt slightly woozy
from not drinking enough water.  His skin began to peel and blister, and his
lips were cracked from exposure to the sun.  He awoke a morning later with
his head pounding.  He fell to his knees getting out of bed.  His stomach
churned and he coughed violently onto the floor.   He pulled himself off of
the floor and drank a small amount of water.  He sat in a daze upon the
floor, only knowing the sun was setting when he regained awareness.  
	He crawled up to the deck, to the railing on the bow again.  The
shark still showed itself now and again as he watched.  He grabbed hold of
the railing and half flopped over it, wondering if his journey was over.
As he fell to the railing, a small pearl escaped from his pocket and fell
into the water.  He mused slightly, and with the dry whisper that was his
voice, he call, "Murrow friend, oh murrow friend, I need you." 
	The pearl hit the ocean and sank with the smallest of splashes.
She knew in her heart that something was terribly wrong.  She was swimming
then, faster and faster.  She carved through the water as lightning once
tore through the sky.  She darted past schools of fish and long plundered
shipwrecks, out into the open waters where the sharp-toothed sharks would
hunt straying youngsters.  She followed her heart, and her heart took her
past her hurt.
	She smacked the shark in the nose as it turned to bite her.  Shocked 
and in pain, the creature swam off.  She splashed over the railing onto the
deck, then gasped at the sight of him.  He was thin and weak, looking at her
sickly through half-open eyes.  The intensity was burned out of him, leaving
only weakness in its wake.  She fell to her knees; her arms wrapped around
him.  Something cool slid past his lips, and then he was overcome with the
need to sleep.
	He awoke with his head clear.  His stirrings brought her over to his
bedside where she had once again been caring for him.  She smiled pleasantly
at him, her face brightening considerably at seeing his eyes open.  He told
her he still felt weak.  She said that he would regain his strength after
he ate something.  He stumbled over to the hold and his eyes widened in
amazement.  It was full once more.  He turned to her, puzzlement on his
face.
	She laughed and continued smiling brightly.  She told him how she
had caught fish deep in the ocean for him to eat.  She had cooked and dried
them in the hot sunshine.  She was also able to recover several plants from
the ocean to give him something green to eat.   He shook his head in wonder
then went to the drinking barrels.  Cool water greeted his eyes and he thrust
his head deep inside.  Splashing water around the cabin, he whirled around
and his eyes shown again with the same bright intensity that she had fallen
in love with.  She smiled at him in happiness and said, "A little murrow
magic goes a long way, but it can't last forever.  You may wish to start
sailing home before you run out again."
	"Thank you," he said, as if not hearing her at all.  She didn't
think he really had heard her.  "I should be able to finish my voyage in
good time.  Now I must go set the lines again."
	It was like the splash of the coldest wave she ever felt.  Her
heart cracked again from the ice poured inside her.  When he turned after
checking the lines, an empty ship greeted him once more.  A small note on
a vial downstairs told him to mix it within his drink during dinner and he
would be fully recovered by morning. 
	The next morning found the ship sailing smoothly along and the skies
still clear.  The bright sunshine was inviting now, not a curse of heat.  He
rechecked his position against the sun.  Having veered a few small degrees
in the night, he reset the sail to the proper tact to catch the wind.  He
went below to eat a good meal for breakfast.  He would begin to ration out
his food again tonight, but for now he felt a little celebration was in order.  
	Later in the evening he again checked his sail, and then went to his
cabin for a needed rest.  The wind began to clam down the next day, but he
was still making a fairly good run for such a small boat.  It was the day
after she left with words unspoken that the wind died.  The sun continued to
beat down upon the deck, but the ship lulled in the water.  Throwing small
bits of trash over into the water again attracted the attention of a passing
sharp-toothed shark.  It circled slowly out and back, calm and serene in the
waveless waters.
	He awoke for the next few days with the sail hanging limply from the
mast.  He thought of fashioning a paddle from a crate onboard, but nothing
met the needed length.  He stood on the deck several minutes each day, hoping
for the slightest breeze to come his way.  He ate and drank ever sparingly,
beginning to fear a repeat of his earlier problem.  He vowed this would not
happen, and found his hand reaching to his pocket.  She had helped him before,
and he knew she would do so again.  Obviously, she wanted him to finish his
quest and be happy again.  He called, "Murrow friend, oh murrow friend, I
need you."
	The pearl hit the ocean and sank with the smallest of splashes.
She knew in her heart that something was terribly wrong.  She was swimming
then, faster and faster.  She carved through the water as lightning once
tore through the sky.  She darted past schools of fish and long plundered
shipwrecks, out into the open waters where the sharp-toothed sharks would
hunt straying youngsters.  She followed her heart, and her heart took her
past her hurt.
	She arrived on the deck with her head held high, looking at him
sternly.  Still, her heart cried at the sight of him.  He smiled at her
like he used to, but his eyes still burned intently upon an unseen goal.
He told her of the calm waters, the lack of wind that was preventing him
from sailing on to find the island.  He told her of fear that he would
soon find himself again without food or water, far out at sea.  She nodded.
Her heart fluttered in sympathy and she knew she would help him again.
	She looked out at the water, so blue like her skin.  Then without
a word she dove overboard.  He cursed violently at finding himself abandoned.
He screamed out that she should be helping him for all of his kindness in
their childhood.  He cried again that she said she would help if he called
her with the pearls and that she was a liar.  Scarcely had the words left
his lips when the waters churned.  One then two, then a third dolphin
jumped high out of the water.  Landing with a splash, they played with a
few others of their kind.  A murrow swam with them, calling to them with
whistles and clicks.  She again climbed to the deck and flashed him a
stern look.  Taking some extra rope, she tied little loops into the ends.
These she tossed overboard and tied the other ends to the deck railings.
The dolphins snared the loops with their noses and began to pull the boat
ever so slowly along.  
	She looked at him.  "They will pull you to the wind.  Do not abuse
this gift.  You can sail on or you can return home.  It doesn't matter to
me."  
	The lie bit into her, but she tried to remain fixed.  Only her eyes
revealed the depth of her secret, and he never looked into them.  He stood
smiling as the boat slowly moved forward.  He gave a slight nudge to some
of the lines, and the dolphins responded by pulling a little harder on that
side.  Slowly the boat came to the heading he wanted, and he nudged the
lines again, telling the dolphins to slow.  His face lit up at discovering
he could continue, but only a small pool of water greeted him on the deck. 
Annoyed, he turned back to his quest.
	The dolphins carried his boat throughout the night, a few of them
taking turns to keep from getting tired.  The next day found the waters
turning a deeper blue and green.  Later in the day, he thought he felt the
slightest rustle of the wind in his hair.  He spun around, searching for it.
Deciding it was his imagination, he went to sleep dreaming of the woman he
would find.	
	The next day he awoke to find the sail full of wind and the dolphin
lines abandoned.  He felt closer than ever to his goal.  However, he was 
not certain how far he had traveled, the water was still turning deeper and
deeper shades of blue and green.  The sailors' stories had told how the
water was deeply colored around the island, lightening as they sailed away.
Obviously, the reverse would be true as he approached the island.
	He sailed on for another day before he saw the smudge on the horizon
that spoke of land.  Cheering loudly, he brought the boat about and began to
sail towards it.  The wind was gaining power, and there were now clouds
approaching.  He concentrated on speed now, hoping to outrun the clouds
before a storm broke.  He also hoped that his vessel would be small enough
to go unnoticed should there prove to be monster in the water as the story
was told.  Both hopes would be in vain.	
	The wind rushed him towards land, but the clouds moved faster.
The sun went dim and then seemed to go out all together.  So thick were the
clouds that the sky appeared to be a black night, then the rain began to cut
the air.  Driven by the wind, the drops became sheets of water, waves of
liquid in the air.  The wind was howling now; the waves grew larger as the
storm overtook the boat.  A quick flash of light was followed by a boom of
thunder.  The next bolt of lightning struck the mast, severing it and
sending the mast to cover the deck.  He screamed in frustration, so close to
his goal.  He pulled himself from the mast in time to hear the bellow.
	It began low and angry, rising in volume to match the thunder.  Now
he merely screamed in panic.  The flashes showed a form moving in the waves,
cutting through them as if they were not there.  Unnatural, serpentine, the
form moved fluidly towards the boat.  The eyes of the monster glowed red with
the next flash of lightning, looking strait at the boat.  The face, lit for
that moment, seemed to be wearing a smile, but the rows of teeth were far
from friendly.  Scales covered the creature, spines and horns lining down
from eye ridges to form a row on the back.  With a twist of its body, the
monster turned to investigate the little boat.  
	It easily caught the little vessel in its stare.  It seemed to look
upon the young man with contempt, as if the monster took perverse pleasure
in its killing.  The man merely began to scream from fear.  The serpent dove
beneath the waves.  He looked around for the attack, terrified and strangely
fascinated that he would meet such an end.  He thought to himself that maybe
some would tell stories about him one day.  Then he shuddered again and tears
streamed down his face.  The boat, tossed by the waves, was closer than ever
to the little island.  Sanctuary was almost within reach, yet even from this
distance he could see the island was rotting swamps draining down from barren
cliffs.
	It was the very moment he was certain of the light blazing in a
watchtower that the monster struck.  Coiling beneath the boat, it swam
upwards. The boat was thrust from the water as it was struck directly.
Tossed into the air, the sail flapped into the wind for a moment as the
rest of the boat crashed down into the huge waves.  The lines had not been
but, and the man suddenly found himself yanked along for that moment of
flight.  The boat met with a worse fate.  Upon hitting the water, it was
immediately crushed by the monster.  The line around his foot gave way a
second later, and he fell back towards the waters.  
	Screaming, he flailed his arms wildly and grabbed the worst thing
he could.  His arms had met the largest of the spines, centered on the
monster's forehead, and he had instinctively grabbed on.  The beast bellowed
and dove into the water.  Later bards telling his story said he was massively
 strong and pulled the horror from the water with his bare hands.  In truth,
he hung on for dear life, having lost his senses of up or down or what was
happening to him.
	The monster dove.  Then it rose, breaking the water.  It was almost
as if the creature was playing games with him.  He sputtered and just as
he regained a semblance of breath, he found his lungs filling with water.
Then the monster broke the surface and he saw the island, such a short
distance away.  He clung to the spire he had grabbed.  His mind was flooded,
the beautiful woman so close and to meet such a horrible fate.  Bolts of
lightning streaked the air and the thunder roared to deafening proportions.
He screamed a curse at the monster, source of so much trouble.
	A bolt of lightning answered from the sky.  It sailed down from the
clouds like a spear, unerring to its target.  The man screamed in agony as
his perch of horn shattered under the impact.  The monster bellowed in pain
as the man dropped to the waters.  "Murrow friend, oh murrow friend, I need
you." 
	The pearl hit the ocean and sank with the smallest of splashes.
She knew in her heart that something was terribly wrong.  She was swimming
then, faster and faster.  She carved through the water as lightning once
tore through the sky.  She darted past schools of fish and long plundered
shipwrecks, out into the open waters where the sharp-toothed sharks would
hunt straying youngsters.  She followed her heart, and her heart took her
past her hurt.
	He awoke to find himself upon a beach. The sun was very high in the
sky, warming the sand.  A strong breeze was blowing the last of the storm
clouds over the horizon.  Two forms lay beside him.  She was exhausted,
sleeping restlessly on the sand.  Her skin was a paler blue than usual, but
her breathing seemed regular and strong.  Nearby was the crumbled form of
an ancient man.  A large staff of wood lay shattered beside him.  He would
not wake up from his sleep.
	The young man turned to survey the beach.  A shallow lagoon greeted
him.  The sea was a pure and beautiful blue, matched only by the murrow
beside him.  The breeze was strong and brought with it the sounds of sea
birds.  A short distance away a path stretched itself between palm trees
farther inland.  She awoke then, stirring in the sand.  Her body was stiff
and sore from her rescue.  She saw him, safe from harm, and breathed a sigh
of relief.  She gasped at the ancient man nearby, but knew that the curse
on the island had been lifted.  She turned to him, her eyes searching for
light in his.  And all she saw was the burning intensity overriding his
once kind continence.  Her tears wet the grains of sand as the young man
turned silently from her and walked away.
	The path opened up slightly as he traveled along.  He followed the
bends and twists a short time before he crossed a small stream on a wooden
bridge.  He felt deep within him that the path was the right one to travel
to finish what he had started so long ago.  The trees became taller and
broader, carrying with them a look of serenity.  The path was carrying him
in a northern direction.   He heard voices ahead talking excitedly, and
crept forward to see the commotion.	
	The voices were musical; the language unrecognized, but very fluid.
As he drew closer he picked out male and female, then one voice rose a bit
out of the din of noise.  Authoritative sounding, the voice quieted the
others with strong words.  He crept forward to a clearing and saw a small
group of people standing in the center.  The place had the appearance of
his seaside village, the group consisting of sailors, farmers, and family.
The voice in charge belonged to a tall, thin man.  Older than many of the
others, he carried an air of being a respected authority in the village.
He also saw the young man as he tried to keep himself hidden.
	Calling out loudly but in a calm voice, the man was obviously calling
to him to come forward from his place of hiding.  Seeing no choice in his
fate yet again, the young man did so.  The villagers parted ways before him,
stepping quickly to the side.  It was like they knew something he did not.
The village elder walked quickly up to him.  Reaching out, the old man placed
his hand upon the youth's shoulder, then said some words to the crowd.
Immediately they broke into cheers, leaving the young man both embarrassed
and confused.  With that, the elder tugged on the young man's sleeve and led
him through the village.  
	Now a road opened before the man, traveling towards the hills close
by the forest.  He looked and noticed the road bore the ruts of wagon wheels
and hoof prints.  The elder led him along the road, now speaking excitedly.
Understanding that there was some degree of urgency, he hurried to keep up
with the old man.  Now and again, the youth thought he recognized some of
the words and gestures the elder used.  
	It was shortly after entering the hills that the first glimpse of 
he castle came into view.  It was not extremely large, but looked very solid
and defensible.  There was a guardhouse holding the main entrance.  A large
keep dominated the grounds, while a single high tower was evident.  Pennants
flew from the battlements, and hunting hawks could be seen soaring through
the air.
	By midday the young man understood nearly everything the elder was
saying.  It was like the two had been speaking the same language all the
time, but just weren't listening to each other.  They were going to the
castle to meet his destiny.  A bend in the road brought the gatehouse
before them.  The hills the castle was built upon dropped sharply towards
the sea.  The high tower looked to be overlooking the ocean, atop a cliff
face that dropped to rocks below.  They paused long enough to greet the
guards, who quickly let them pass.  Puzzling at their expressions, the man
began to wonder what would happen next.  Yet still the air of comfortable
familiarity hung about the scene.
	He was led into the main courtyard, where several men-at-arms
practiced.  At the sight of him, they all suddenly drew up to attention
and gave him welcomes.  He was unable to form a proper response before
the village elder pulled him along into the keep.
	They went rushing through hallways lined with paintings and
tapestries, up stairs with banisters made of the finest of woods, and
past stained glass windows.  Steadily they made their way upward, the
elder tugging the young man along.  With a slight start, he realized he
was being lead into the section of quarters reserved for ranking officials.
It was shortly thereafter that he was lead up the first of the stairs to
the high tower.  Climbing steadily, they made their way past doors and
windows that looked out over large sections of the whole island.  Finally,
a large, sturdy door was before them. Carvings covered the door, the
woodwork remarkably well done.  On the door was once a great iron crossbar;
the remains of this lay shattered upon the floor of the landing.  The man
shouted with joy at seeing this then shoved the young man through the door.
	He entered the room to see her.  She was tall and lovely, a form
lent to a natural grace.  Her dress emphasized the swell of her breasts and
the slender waist.  Her hair cascaded down her back, tresses curled and
twined with ribbons.  A single rose floated above her ear, adding its own
red to the blush of her pale skin.  Her eyes were clear and bright, full of
green and blue.  She faced him, one small hand upon the small desk beside
her.  Her lips parted at seeing him, and the smile was like a piece of the
sun come down to live.  He smiled back in the most pleasant of embarrassments
and her laughter was like a thousand tinkling bells.  He knew then the truth
behind the faerie tale once told to him by the fireside.
	"Welcome, great hero.  You have freed me from fate when you killed
the alchemist."  Her voice was a musical soprano.  She smiled again and
motioned him closer.  He fidgeted nervously, then shuffled forward to stand
beside her.  She led him over to one of the windows.  Outside he could see
the soldiers had returned to sparring practice.  Other servants rushed about
in a frenzy between buildings in the courtyard.  Farther away he could make
out the village he had come upon after his trek through the woods.  The
fields were laid out in square patterns, the growing season obviously in
full bloom.  
	"All of this and more is yours now.  You have won it by winning
rescuing me from the lord of air and water."  She smiled again, and he felt
his heart beat in his chest.  Her smile broke through all the pain he had
felt so recently, relieving him of his burdens.  He looked into her eyes,
that green and blue rather like the shade of his friend.  He shook his
head slightly.
	She stood beside him as he looked out the window.  The soldiers
were at his command.  A leader among men he would become, guiding the
soldiers and villagers alike to a tune he would decide.  A country,
though small, to rule for life with a beautiful young lady beside him.
He glanced at her and he felt his heart ache with her loveliness.  She
was looking out of the window, the sun on her face lighting her features.
She seemed to enjoy its warmth so much, like his friend did when they were
growing up.  Distracted, he turned from the window.
	The room was the height of luxury.  A thick carpet covered the
stone floor; the walls had paintings of the sea and the sky that looked
like they lived.  The two windows, opposite each other so that one
overlooked land and the other water, had distinctive carvings telling of
great skill.  There was a large mirror hanging over an ornate bureau.
Books lined one shelf, and the candles on the desk burned pure and bright,
unlike the ones he used sometimes back home.  There was that time he and
his friend had tried to summon ghosts with a candle and she had ended up
with soot all over her face.  
	He paused and turned to look at the lady.  She stared at him
expectantly, waiting for the feelings of being overwhelmed to wear off.
She was beautiful, well deserving of her reputation.  Yet no, her smile
was lovely.  Yet no, her eyes were clear as crystals.  
	And he stood staring at her, wondering what was crushing his heart.
Then he realized that the smile wasn't really quite the smile he loved, that
the eyes were not quite the right shade of blue to promise him happiness.
And he felt his heart sag at memories of the journey to the lovely lady.
He knew of one thing only.  Deeply bowing to the young woman, who truly
was the most beautiful of all, he turned and ran across the room.  He was
reaching into his pocket as he plummeted headfirst out the far window,
diving towards the sea.  Into open arms as he cried out with emotion, 
"Murrow friend, oh murrow friend, I love you." 

							Summer, 1998

Inspired by the Shattered Isles Live Action
Role Playing Game from Chimera Interactive