The Wandering Isle

T snorted, straightening, focusing on her words to diminish the ones repeating in his mind. “Okay. Then yes, I think we’re there.” Off-the-cuff statements were Tinker’s specialty. It was a sense of normalcy in a world he found very confusing at the moment.

“What do you think we’ll find?” Tinker asked, bouncing as they made their way down the decks to where Travis was preparing the smaller boat to take them to the Wandering Isle.

They had been sailing for at least a week – T had lost track of time early in the trip, compliments of a sudden storm early on – and now lay just off the beach of the Wandering Isle. It left him feeling hollow and uncertain. After so much worry and wonder, here it was – a golden beach framed with rocks and rich forestland. Toward the center of the island, the earth rose, into a mountainous range.

“Finish what your forefather started.”

“Answers?” T finally answered her question. “I don’t know.”

Tinker noticed his quiet tone and mirrored it. “Do you think your great-great-great-great-grandfather will be here?”

“Great-great,” T corrected with a smile. He knew when she was trying to make him feel better. “And I don’t know. I only met him the one time.”

Not to mention, he wasn’t sure if the mysterious figure with the pirate crew had even been his ancestor. Having the same name, especially one as common as ‘Jacob’ meant nothing.

They crossed the final section of the deck, joining the rest of the group. If they had done their job properly, they had beaten the Elmwood to the island. Now, all that was left was to scour the island for any sign of what the pirates had come for.

“Remember,” Travis Bentham said, throwing a pointed look at Guilderbrand. He pulled on the strap holding his fire-gun over his shoulder. “If we see anyone, do not engage. Our goal is reconnaissance only.”

Guilderbrand raised his eyebrows, his gaze hidden behind his sunglasses. “What makes you think I’d start a fight? Don’t you remember why I agreed to come?”

Travis lowered his head ever so slightly, a quiet warning. T was always confused about their dynamic. Guilderbrand, in every interaction T had experienced, carried himself like a free agent, but Travis acted like he had some kind of power over him. And, oddest of all, Guilderbrand seemed to acquiesce, and not because of the weapon Travis carried.

“Are you two ready for your first excursion?” Stef Phillips asked, looking to T and Tinker. Izza, the second half of the Jeopardy Team and final member of their group, turned her attention to hear the answer.

Tinker looked up from putting her crocheted octopus, Glorp, on her shoulder. “We’re not children,” she said, crossing her arms. Glorp, as well as the robot next to her, mimicked the pose. “Don’t forget about when the pirate ship attacked us on our way here.”

“To clarify,” Suleiman said in his tinny voice, “I could be considered an infant in terms of existance. But mentally, I am perhaps superior to you all.”

“By ego, anyway,” Travis quipped. He glanced at Tinker. “Are you sure you want to bring them?”

“It’s not like they’re stuffies,” Tinker started, then looked at the octopus on her shoulder. “Well. Not normal stuffies. And yes, I want to bring them. They’re quite useful.”

“And despite my metallic appearance,” Suleiman added, “I am quite resistant to the corrosive qualities of seawater. And I can guide you to whatever magic might reside within that island.”

T ignored the others as he stepped up to the edge, looking at the shoreline. He knew what his family history told him about this place, and knew what popular lore said. Guilderbrand denied the existence of the Fountain of Youth, but something inside told T differently.

There was something out there. He just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

“What your forefather started.”

“Mr. Abridd,” Guilderbrand was saying. “Are you ready?”

T came to reality, nodding and joining the other five – seven, if you counted Tinker’s creatures – in the small motorized lifeboat. Guilderbrand took the motor and they pulled away from the ship’s hull, leaving the gilded cruise ship bobbing gently with the tide.

Tinker was exchanging enthusiastic one-sided chatter with Izza, who seemed to be trying to ignore her. T let the world drift away as he listened to the conversation.

“I’m pretty sure it’s going to be the Fountain of Youth. Mr. Guilderbrand, why don’t you think the Fountain of Youth is a real thing?” Tinker asked.

“If it were,” Guilderbrand said, “Those sailors would be healthy. But there’s something else afflicting them.” He finished, quietly, “It’s painful, really, to watch.”

“Do you think there’s a cure?”

“If there is, we’ll find it here,” Guilderbrand said. He looked over to T. “That, and whatever else Jacob Abridd discovered on these shores.”

“The Wandering Isle has been waiting for years for Abridd’s heir to find it.”

T heard nothing else that was said until they hit the beach, deafened by the words spinning in his mind. Guilderbrand touched their nose to the shore, and Stef jumped out with a line to anchor it. After some maneuvering, they got Suleiman safe onto the sand, and began walking to the edge of the forest.

T slowed as everyone continued into the foliage, taking in the scene. How similar a view had it been when his great-great grandfather had landed? Had he and his first mate, Jeremiah Henrickson, made idle, excited chatter, like this group had? Where these plants he was seeing the same foliage that they had seen?

He lifted his arm, looking at the needle he had tattooed there. The compass was no longer moving – it lay still, telling him he had found what he was looking for. The time of directing was over. Now it was up to him to find his own way.

He shook his head, snapping out of his reverie, then jogged forward to where Tinker was hanging back from the group, waiting. “Which way?” he asked.

“Don’t forget your Hexplate,” Stef called back to him, tapping a pair of thin-rimmed glasses he’d donned since they’d landed.

“Oh, right,” T said, fishing his Hexplate glasses out of his pocket. As he put them on, the robot next to Tinker was lifting an arm, pointing toward a rising crag of rock.

“There is a strong signal from that direction,” it said. “If there is nothing there, I will be astonished.”

“You, surprised?” Tinker asked. “You’re not shocked by anything.”

“Electricity, perhaps,” Suleiman replied. “And the occasional article on Wikipedia. But no. Being right most of the time removes any sense of surprise one might feel.”

“How humble,” Guilderbrand said, but turned in the direction indicated regardless.

“You added a magic detector to him?” T asked.

“Izza did,” Tinker said, keeping her voice down so the rest of the group didn’t hear. “She’s incredible. She figured out how he ran in seconds, made the adjustments in about the same amount of time. It’s like what they have in their van.”

T nodded distantly, stepping carefully through the tall plant life. “Waiting for years…”

They hiked in silence, T caught up in his thoughts and unnoticing of Tinker’s concerned looks. After a short time, Guilderbrand lifted up a hand, stopping their momentum and walking back through them to where the robot was.

“Is it in the caves?” he asked, quietly.

Suleiman whirred. “The answer is yes,” he finally said. “I would stake my reputation as a robot on it.”

“So if you were wrong,” Tinker said, “Would you be a human? A real life boy?”

Guilderbrand motioned for them to be quiet. “If it’s in the caves, we don’t know what else might be there,” he said to Travis. “I think you and I should go ahead. We can radio back if it’s clear or if they need to go back to the ship.”

Travis looked back at the rest of them, but when Stef nodded slightly, he lifted his fire-gun and nodded back. “That’s the plan. Don’t wander away. Tinker, that goes especially for your little ones, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Tinker said, giving him a mock-salute, which Glorp duplicated. Suleiman just made an eerily human sniff of dismissal.

Travis opened his mouth, like he was going to comment, then thought better of it and turned to follow Guilderbrand on a narrow animal path. “What’s the general direction?” he asked Suleiman.

“I can come with you,” the robot offered, but the elemental raised his hand.

“Neither of us are carrying you, and you’d move too slow. Which way?”

The robot pointed, and Travis lifted a compass, noting the direction. “We’ll head that way. Keep the line open.”

They disappeared into the trees, and Stef immediately began searching the surrounding area.

“What are you doing?” T asked.

“Just looking,” he said.

“Stef gets bored easily,” Izza said, pulling out a black-covered journal. “So he made little scavenger hunts to pass the time.”

“Not true,” Stef said. “I’m doing a flora survey. We’re on an island that no one has been on for who knows how long, which means the plant and animal life might be new and undiscovered species!”

Izza looked over his shoulder, opening the journal. “It looks just like the rainforest where we fought that troll.”

“Wildly different,” Stef said. “Look, this white-striped fern is beyond the size we saw there.”

“Because they were being harvested and eaten by the troll,” Izza reminded him, turning and flipping through the journal. “It’s just had more time to grow here. I might have an entry to compare it with, let me see.”

T’s ears began to tune them out as his attention was caught by a tall, sprawling tree. Step by slow step, he found himself drawn toward it, but why, he was not sure. As his eyes defined what had captured him, he was very aware of his heartbeat in his ears, his breath catching in his throat. His hand reached out, fingers splayed to touch words roughly carved there. They were hard to see, overgrown with time, but were still legible.

01-09-1891 ~ J. R. A

“Jacob R. Abridd,” T whispered, unconscious of the world around him. His great-great grandfather had carved this. Or it marked his grave. Regardless, it had to mean something.

“Abridd’s heir…Waiting for Abridd’s heir.”

“What did you find?” Tinker asked, wandering over from where she had been examining Stef’s white-striped fern and breaking T’s reverie. She gasped when she saw the words. “J. R. A.! So he was here!”

“Maybe he still is,” T said, looking downward and imagining a coffin beneath his feet. “Can Suleiman see if he’s buried here?”

“I do not have x-ray capabilities,” the robot said. “But I can make one of my arms into a shovel.”

“Wh…why?” T asked, looking at Tinker.

She just shrugged. “Plausible deniability.”

Their banter began to flow, just as it always did. And even though it was about his great-great-grandfather, the chatter pulled T’s mind away from the strange message carved into the tree as he fought to keep Suleiman’s body from turning into a shovel, or something worse.

The radio crackled, breaking their conversation. “Is anyone there?”

It was Travis’ voice. He sounded… angry? That was odd – T had never heard Travis anything besides confident and upbeat.

“We’re here,” Izza said, lifting the radio. “What’s going on?”

“Guilderbrand is gone,” Travis said. “He saw something in the caves, and just deserted me.”

Stef muttered something under his breath, taking the radio from Izza. “What’s the call?”

“I’m worried about who or what it might be,” Travis said. “But we’re not turning back for it. I could use the Jeopardy Team to back me up. I think it’s best if Tinker and T head back to the ship, though.”

Izza looked over at them. Tinker was making a face, but T sighed, resigned to his fate.

“Finish what your forefather started…”

“No,” he muttered. “I need to keep us safe.”

“Copy that,” Stef said back to Travis. “We’ll get your location from the radio and find you.”

“Keep in contact until you do,” Travis said.

“You heard him,” Stef said, clipping the radio to his belt and getting to his feet. “Get back to the ship. We’ll keep you updated as we can.”

As they took the animal trail, T went to pick up Suleiman, but the robot waved him off. “I am completely mobile of my own accord, thank you,” he said, then began tottering back toward the beach.

“Good thing I was watching how to use the motorboat,” Tinker said after they had been walking for a few minutes, her attitude still upbeat. “We’ll be fine getting back to the boat. The worse we do is sink the cruise ship, but that’ll be fine, right? I’m sure Izza could just build a new one out of palm trees and coconuts or something.”

T shook his head at the suggestion, opening then closing his mouth when he realized he had no response. He walked faster, outpacing Tinker. In the front, he was the one who came in sight of the ocean first. As he did, he stopped in his tracks. “Tinker,” he whispered, pointing a trembling hand toward the cruise ship.

An ancient-looking craft, built of wood and old canvas sails, was pulled alongside the shining chrome, and they could see the figures of pirates roaming both decks.

Tinker put a hand to her mouth. “I hope the Little Highs are okay!”

“I hope we’re okay,” T muttered, spotting the empty longboats moored next to their own motorboat. He grabbed her hand. “Come on. We need to catch up to Stef and Izza.”

They crashed back through the forest, Glorp bouncing on Tinker’s shoulder as they sprang past the white-striped ferns and uniform trees. T almost missed the animal path, but Tinker pulled him onto it, and they stumbled through a narrow opening and into the cool darkness of a cave. The sound of rushing water suddenly assaulted their ears as they searched for evidence of Stef and Izza.

Tinker tried shouting their names, but her voice was lost over the roar of flowing water. “Where is that coming from?” she asked T, who was straining to see and hear her.

“I don’t know!” he shouted back, pulling her to the side. “Suleiman! Do you have a flashlight feature?”

“Oh, no!” Tinker gasped. “He’s not with us!”

T hissed words under his breath, then said, “The radio!”

“Right!” Tinker let go of his hand, and he could dimly hear her fumbling with the radio. “Ah!” she shouted suddenly, “I dropped it!”

T dropped to his hands and knees, feeling blindly and squinting to see in the low light. If his eyes would just adjust…

A laugh cut across the torrent of water, and T looked up to find the light of torches searing his eyes. “We thought there might be some rats hiding in the caves,” one of the bearers said, drawing a curved sword. The way the voice stretched and echoed as he spoke proved it – he was a pirate from the Elmwood. T would recognize those voices anywhere. And if the voice wasn’t enough proof, there was that distinct blue-green light that shone around each of them.

“T?” Tinker whispered, grabbing his hand again.

“…waiting for Abridd’s heir…”

“My name is Tebrick Abridd,” T said, standing and speaking as confidently as he could. “I am the descendant of your former captain, Jacob Abridd, who led you here before. I am-“

He was cut off as another pirate backhanded him across the face.

“Abridd’s bastards,” he laughed as T reeled backwards. “Just like the old man, eh?”

T was supported by Tinker, who stared at the incoming group with eyes that burned like their torches. “Dirty old men,” she muttered.

“Take them,” the first man said, jutting his chin toward the pair. “Captain Henrickson will want to meet his predecessor’s family, after all.”

As they were bound and pulled away, Tinker whispered to T, “What do we do?”

“Finish what your forefather started.”

“We go peacefully,” T said. “We’re not fighters. We don’t do this for a living.” He laughed, bitterness tinging his voice. “I’m only here as a guide. And you’re only here because I wanted you. I’m sorry, Tinker.”

“Don’t be,” Tinker said, a smile hinting behind her lips. “I’ve loved every second.”

A shove in their back and an order to “Shut up!” stopped their conversation. But Tinker gave him a smile and determined nod.

“Abridd’s bastards…”

The words bore into T’s mind, tapping into his deepest insecurities. His family was of the Abridd line, but they were not close with the rest of the family. They didn’t have the chance – after his grandfather had brought a wife back from the Philippines, he had been ostracized and shut out. No one said anything to their faces, but everyone knew actions spoke much louder.

The younger generation was beginning to mend the damage of their parents, but healing took time. T wanted to be proud of both halves of his lineage, and had created the mix of nautical and Filipino traditional tattoos across his body from that desire, but his captors were reminding him of how hard it was sometimes.

“Finish what your forefather started…”

If what Jacob Abridd had begun ended in something like these pirate creatures, T wanted nothing to do with it. When he returned home, he decided, he would change his name. Take his mother or grandmother’s maiden names. At least then, he would no longer be associated with the filth of the Abridd legacy.

Fuming with these thoughts, T only realized then that, strangely, they had not left the caves. They were instead marching deeper within. “Suleiman was right,” he whispered excitedly, earning another rap on his head.

Tinker gave him a slight wink, acknowledging that she had heard and come to the same conclusion. Or implying that Suleiman was always right, so of course he would be right about this. T couldn’t be sure.

There was the chance that wherever the pirates were bringing them, Stef, Izza and Travis would be arriving shortly. Now, if only they could make sure they also weren’t captured… T had to trust them. They would get out. And he would return to his life, to create his art and hide away from the world.

“In anonymity, we are safer.” Tinker had said that to him once, but he didn’t know how true it was until now. He once longed for attention and fame – he now hoped there would never be any on him.  

T estimated they had been walking for thirty minutes when they came into a spacious, well lit area. Most of the group broke away, but their guards pushed them ahead, into a smaller alcove. Inside was a desk and mostly-bare bookshelves, both covered in dust, a musty scent hanging in the air.

Behind the desk, seated on a surprisingly clean chair, was tall man, his dark hair beginning to gray along the edges, a faint glow emanating from his body. He looked up from the book he was perusing, smiling in a slow, sinister way. “Ah, Mr. Abridd,” Captain Jeremiah Henrickson said in the same, hollow voice of his crew. He took off his glasses and pushed his seat back, standing to stare into T’s soul. “I was surprised when they said they had found you. I hadn’t expected you to follow us.”

His gaze flickered away. “He takes after you, doesn’t he, Jacob?”

T looked around for where his great-great grandfather could be standing, ready to look in those eyes again, until Tinker nudged him on the side. “It’s-yay on-yay ey-they esk-day,” she whispered loudly.

“What?” T asked, following the direction she was nodding her head. To his surprise, he found a skull sitting on the desk, angled to face Captain Henrickson’s chair. “Oh, I’m going to be sick,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” Captain Henrickson said, giving them a small smile. “You’re here now. You can finish what your forefather started, Mr. Abridd.”

These were the same words he had said months ago, back in T’s shop. It had been a call to action then. But not now. Captain Henrickson’s plan was in the open now – he had no reason to manipulate T’s emotions. He could speak plainly now.

“Yes, T,” Tinker said, “Join him, and together you can rule the Seven Seas.”

“On the contrary,” Captain Henrickson said, “Stay out of my way, and you will live to see peace again, Mr. Abridd. We will return you to your tattoo shop free of distress. All you need to do is what your ancestor could not.”

His voice dropped threateningly. “Listen to the voice of reason.”

T’s eyes flickered to the skull on the table, then back to Captain Henrickson’s hungry eyes.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll stay out of your way.”

“Oh, I’m in on this now?” Tinker said. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Me and Glorp will stay out of your way.”

T registered the omission of Suleiman, but didn’t mention it. “We’ll stay out of your way,” he said. “But maybe now is the time for you to listen to the voice of reason.”

“I’ve heard enough reasons,” Captain Henrickson cut him off. “Take them away from here.”

They were pulled from the room, T’s eyes lingering on the skull on the table. He would stay out of the way. But Henrickson was right. Maybe it was up to him to finish what his ancestor had started.

All he needed was a chance.  

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Curious where this all started? Check out “Spelling Ink Tattoo Shop” for some answers… And read the rest of Adventures in Fantasy for more.