Aid

JOURNEY TO MIRANGA ISLAND

Part III: The Bazaar of the Dead

        The docks of Saltana stood in a thick and viscous-like fog that reminded Declan and Balric of a brook or stream back in the world of the living.  The fog was thick enough, but moved slowly all around them, so much so that they couldn’t see their feet below it.

Beyond the dock the ocean of fog rose higher, clouding everything in their sight save one flickering light.  In the enveloping gloom, it seemed faint and far away.

“That must be the light of the bazaar,” Declan said assuredly.

“Must it?”  Balric asked with trepidation.

“Come Balric.  We have twenty four hours to find the map and return to this dock.  There’s no time to lose,” Declan said as he began walking forward.  His steps echoed loudly on the dock, as though the wood it was made of was hollow.

Balric slowly began following his master.  He heard the excitement in Declan’s voice and, not for the last time, wondered at how the man he served could be so stalwart in the face of danger.  “Some people are just born that way, I s’pose,”  Balric thought.  He kept following, though, keeping up a brisk pace to stay close to his master.  Slowly, the exertion was taking its toll, and after some time all Balric could focus on was how fast they were moving toward the faint light in the fog.

“Keep yer mind on the adventure, Balric.  Just like Declan always says,” Balric thought to himself.  And he did.  Being solely focused on his exhaustion kept out all the logistical questions that would have normally overwhelmed him.  But now, by indirectly taking Declan’s advice, he discovered he was calm; that this underworld, for now at least, held no terror for him.  

It was then, in this calm of his mind amidst the agony of his body, that one question occurred to Balric.  The question he felt needed the most immediate answer: “Sir!  How will we know when our twenty four hours are up?”

“Can’t you tell time by the moon and the stars?”  Declan asked.

“Aye, I could sir.  But there are no moon and stars.  Not even reflections of’em.  Just shadows where they should be,” Balric said.

“Indeed, you’re right Balric,” Declan said as he stopped moving forward.  “Would it make sense for you to head back to the dock and wait?”  Declan asked.  “Signal me, when the ferryman returns?  Though I don’t suppose you have anything to signal with.”

“Yer right about that, master.  I didn’t bring no flares or torches in my little satchel.  Just parchment,” Balric replied.  “Sides, no way I’d leave you anyhow.”

“Well, I suppose this is just a problem we’ll have to ponder as we move forward,” Declan said as he started walking toward the faint light again.  “We’ve precious little time as it is.”

“Aye sir,” Balric said as he trotted along behind.  “Who would have ever thought we’d need something so simple as a pocket watch this desperately?”

Like a stage magician presenting his gloved white hands for all to see, the thick fog immediately around them dispersed.  “As though the land was listenin,” Balric thought.  As the fog rolled to opposite directions light poured out from behind.  The very light that Declan and Balric had been heading towards.  At last, they had reached the Saltana bazaar.

It was enormous; carts, stalls and stands of all shapes and sizes ranging as far as the eye could see.  But everything was dilapidated, run-down, and most striking of all, completely abandoned.  It looked as though this field of commerce had been deserted years ago, and the remnants of it were left here to rot.  Declan and Balric moved forward, both of them silent as the grave.  Their eyes scanned the devastation around them while their ears were perked for even the slightest sound.  But all they saw was wreckage, and all they heard were the sounds of their own breathing. 

With the lifting of the fog also came the end of the road they were taking to get to the bazaar.  Now that they had reached the place there was no ordered way to proceed, and so Declan and Balric made their way around and over the never-ending debris of the bazaar.  They had been walking and climbing for some time when they came to a wall of rubbish that must have taken hundreds of years to accumulate.  They traveled along its perimeter for some time when they came to a small and unassuming cart.  Unassuming at first, but as the pair got closer the cart seemed to reveal more of itself to them, like a flower blooming in spring.  First, little trinkets and pieces laid out as if for sale appeared on it.  Second, those pieces began to glow.  Faintly at first, but with each step toward the cart everything seemed to grow brighter.  When Declan and Balric finally approached near enough to see what was on it they marveled - for they gazed upon the most beautiful pocket watches either of them had ever seen.

They approached slowly, and as they did the light of the cart only brightened, allowing the craftsmanship and detail of the watches to shine.  What glowed with an ethereal beauty only a few paces back now seemed to them so much more tangible.

Balric was especially taken with them.  He was actually quite surprised to find that he reached the watch cart before his master.  He didn’t notice speeding up and passing Declan by, but it did not matter since Declan was right behind him.  Slowly, Balric lowered his hands intending to pick up the first watch immediately in front of him, but right before his fingers could graze the gold he paused.

“Go ahead Balric,” Declan said.  “Pick it up.”

With a reverence Balric didn’t know he possessed (as he was not a very religious man) he picked up the watch and handled it.  The finish, the contours, the sheen of the chain; the manservant was transfixed.

“Hello gentlemen,” a high-pitched voice said from the darkness around them.

  Declan immediately drew his sword and looked all around for the source of the voice.  Balric’s head shot up and he too looked around for whoever was speaking, even while his fist closed tighter around the watch he held.

“You won’t need swords with me, young lord,” the voice said addressing Declan.  “I’m only interested in supplying you with what you so clearly already want.”

Declan kept circling the watch stand, looking for where the voice was coming from.  Balric, however, looked back at the watch in his hand.  It was not the most intricately crafted watch in front of him; in fact, it was a rather plain, golden watch.  But it stood out to Balric as the loveliest piece of the lot.  Even holding it empowered Balric, making him feel he was in the presence of great value; value that lay far deeper than what was on the outside.

“Your slave has a keen eye my lord,” the disembodied voice said.

“He’s not my slave stranger.  But if you wish to talk to me why not step out into the light?”  Declan asked.

“That’s funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing,” the voice replied with a chilly mirth.  “Well, whatever this fellow is to you, he knows his timepieces.  That’s the finest watch I own.  It was crafted here in Saltana a millennium ago, and hasn’t stopped working since.  Sort of an enchantment, as you living folk would say.  It tells its owner exactly what time they need to believe it is so that they’re never late.”

“Late for what?”  Declan asked instantly.

“Important appointments, late-night rendezvous…or maybe, life-saving skiff rides?”  the voice retorted.

“He heard us alright,” Balric said as he got close to whisper in Declan’s ear, all the while still holding the pocket watch.  “He knows how desperately we need this.”

“It doesn’t matter Balric,” Declan replied just as quietly while scanning the darkness all around them for any sign of the merchant.  “We can’t buy this watch, the cost is too high.”

“But master, we’ve no other way of tellin time here,” Balric said.

“Your friend is right, my lord.  You’re in a place with different rules than where you’re from, and you’ll need help navigating it,” the ghost said.  “But I see that you’re a man who puts off the smaller questions of ‘how’ focusing on the larger goals before you.  Yes, always pushing to complete the task, but leaving the details to others.  Allow me then, to give you a grander scenario.  By the end I’m sure you’ll agree - there is no way for you to proceed on your quest without this watch.”

It was then that Balric turned fully to face his master.  The manservant did not intend to; it was as though a force outside his body spun him around like he was some sort of puppet.  His hand was open, and laying in that open hand, fully exposed, sat the watch.  Declan caught sight of it and it held his gaze.

“Alright ghost.  Tell your tale.  But it must be quick.  We have precious little time,” Declan said, trying to sound commanding.

“Ah, but that is precisely what I am offering my lord,” the spirit said assuredly.  “Time.”