Tales from the Age of Legends by Jon Fabris

Author:Jon Fabris
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: vampires, werewolves, sorcery, arabian nights, medieval, crusades
Publisher: Jon Fabris

Chapter 12

The Lighthouse

Barret learned many tales from wayward sailors, this is one such tale.

Darin awakened with a pounding in his head. He looked out of the tiny lighthouse window at the setting sun. A terrible dread washed over him and he wished he could stay in bed. But it was time for him to work. Besides, his bladder was full.

He took care of nature and made a quick meal. Then like a thousand other nights, he set to work. The work was not hard, but monotonous; hauling coal from the storeroom up the winding stairwell into the burner room, then lighting the burner and adjust the lenses, which projected the light out to sea. Every half–hour or so until daybreak he would have to stoke the burner, to keep the light aflame. He could tell from a quick glance out of the window that tonight it would storm. His 20 years of sailing and 10 years of lighthouse duty had given him intimate knowledge of the weather, though little else. At least tonight he had plenty of whiskey. It was his one solace. He began to drink, and brood. He opened a book, and read from a page he had opened 100 times.

A violent thunderclap awakened him from his stupor. Dazed, he looked around. He had slept for hours, the light had extinguished. He grabbed some coal and stumbled up the stairwell. He relighted the burner and was relieved. Peering out at the rocks below to satisfy himself that nothing was wrong, his eyes widened in horror. There was a ship! It was wrecked against the terrible jagged rocks. A cold numbness washed down his belly. He took another swig of whiskey and stumbled back down the winding stairwell.

As he opened the heavy lighthouse door a cold, damp gust of air blew right through him, penetrating his woolen clothing. Holding his lantern up to lead the way he slowly picked his way through the slimy rocks to the waters edge. As he got closer to the wreck he squinted, looking for survivors. It was a small, singled sailed vessel, about 25 feet long, at least it was, before the storm wrecked its vengeance upon it. The rocks had dashed and shattered the boat cruelly. The biggest piece was a mere 10 feet long. Most of the ship had no doubt sunk.

His heart skipped as he spotted a brightly colored patch on the rocks. He stumbled over. It was a woman, a fine lady he could tell from her clothing. She was beautiful; her long brown hair was drenched and matted against her face and head. He felt for a pulse. She was dead; there was no way to help her now. He knew what he must do. As much as he hated his job, it was his only life now. At his age there was nothing else he could do. If he reported the accident there would be trouble, he may even be dismissed; he had been warned before.

Darin picked up the woman.

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