Shadows tend to walk behind us. The ancient Ilvari like most thought shadows to be the eternal followers of all those exist. Though there were people who thought otherwise, they believed shadows walked ahead of us, that our shadows were the future of ourselves. To lose ones shadow was an omen of death. Among these people lived a man, a man who lived a thousand years.

You see, these shadows folk also believed in the court of deaths. That everybody in their lifetime would be visited by a deity of death, several if they were lucky. The god would always offer two fruits to the chosen, and depending on which fruit was selected, the chosen would either die or be granted twenty years of life. If the chosen refused the god’s gambit, they would live, but never be visited again.”

“How did they die?” Interjected Ersel. I swear she had a knack for ruining my stories.

I shot a glance at her, annoyed, and sighed, “Their hearts would stop.”

Ersel seemed contempt at that, nodding once and leaning back.

“As I was saying. This man was a legend. His name was Icarus Crive.

His childhood was a mystery, but it was well known that he sold apples when he was older. He lived in one of the busiest streets of Trill, surviving by the skins of apples. He had different customers every day, yet had three regular customers. A merchant, a sailor’s wife and a street boy. All three loved apples.

That was how it began.

Icarus treated all three as his only friends. The merchant quick to give him advice about life, the sailor’s wife always willing to lend him an ear and the street boy happy to wile him with tales at any hour. They say he survived because he had those few to support him. Trill was never an easy city to live in. Bandit gangs and the slave trade made it that way. If one did not fall prey to the city on its own, they could just as easily lose their sanity. Icarus visited his three friends every day to keep his.

Then one day he was visited. In an alleyway, the one he normally slept in. Not by those friends he held so dear. But by a shadowy figure with a painted white face, pitch black eyes and bright red lips. The rest of its body was a mess of feathers as black as its eyes. It held out its hand like this.”

I extended my boney hand, it occurred to me that my hand was very similar to that described in the story. Odd.

“It was a twig like claw which shone a ghostly white. On it sat an apple. On the other was an orange.

‘Pick’ it said. Its voice as stiff as a whiff of air.

No-one knows what Icarus thought that day. What mad turn shot through his thoughts. All we know is that Icarus chose correctly.

The next day, the street boy was gone.

The poor often disappeared unnoticed. So what if another urchin vanished? It happened all the time. A human as lowly as a pig. Who would notice? Who would care? Icarus cared. And Icarus was never the same after.

Just five years later another god visited Icarus, this one similar to the first, but with a permanent smile and a small dot on its cheek. Again, he chose correctly.

Now the sailor’s wife had also gone. To lose two friends was hard on Icarus and soon he sold only to the merchant. They say Icarus spent his days speaking his woes to an apple in his hand, often rambling to it as if he were mad.

Two years passed until he was visited a third time. The creature this time, long faced with streaks of black hair covering just its eyes.

It offered two fruits. Icarus chose correctly.

The next day the merchant had gone to. He lost three friends and gained sixty years. That was when he broke. He abandoned his applecart and with it his humanity. He turned to the gangs and over a decade and a half he made a name for himself.

They called him the Young cutthroat, for he never aged.

After his tirade as a bandit he pledged his life to the sea and all it plunders. Stealing from pirates and merchants alike. He sailed with the same crew for twenty years and seven mutinies. He sailed to forty two islands and made off with enough plunder to buy two hundred apple carts.

Then it ended.

On a calm night, after the successful defeat of a rival crew, Icarus was visited by a fourth death god. This god visited all the sailors, for most their first encounter and one after the other each sailor fell from a heart attack. The only one who had survived was Icarus. Icarus stole all the loot for himself and brought the bodies ashore. He made a deal with a local fisherman and cut the bounties of his crew in half.

Icarus was a rich man after that point and so settled for a while. He had met a fisherman’s daughter who had caught his fancy and promised her a home as a big as a whale. The two settled down in a castle in the countryside of Dawnry, raised a family even.

Yet that ended as well.

One night, the countryside was ransacked by marauders. Crive’s mansion fell amidst the chaos to betrayers on the inside. Both his sons and his three daughters were killed, but he and as wife managed to escape.

On the morrow after, the two lay on the outskirts of their burning home still grieving. That was when the fifth death god appeared. It offered both Icarus and his wife the fruits. Icarus chose correctly, but his wife, who Icarus pleaded to refuse the offer, chose anyways with the hope that she could spend eternity with her love. She chose incorrectly.

Icarus left Dawnry within a fortnight. Disgusted, lost, distraught. The memory of his wife still in his arms what many say to be all that consumed him.

Icarus sailed the seas once again set on piracy. This time he founded his own crew and led them to countless victories. That was how he spent eternity, traveling from isle to isle, Out-living each crew and too stricken with loss to marry ever again. Every so often he would meet another death god and each time he would lose something dear to him. Until finally he chose no longer to hold anyone dear again.

As for his treasure.”

Ersel brightened up. I puffed in disgust. Was that honestly all she cared for? I cleared my throat and stared at the fire in front of me. It was night time and we had set setup a fire in some neck of the woods. Ersel said we were close to the capitol.

“As for his treasure, he buried it with his family. All of it. They say he parted his tale with an old soldier one day then threw himself off a cliff. He was said to be oddly cheery those days, but what would one think of it? Though he was a thousand he looked not a day over twenty.

The last words he told the soldier were, ‘a thousand treasures to the man who follows the star. A thousand more to the man who reaches that far. ’ ”

“That means the treasure’s in Dawnry. It’s not only where his family died, it’s also called the star of the sea” Concluded Ersel.

I sighed, how could she be so stupid? I suppose I had to enlighten her.

“Icarus was a Trillman, one how believed in the ten pointed star.”

“So?”

“In Trill tradition, the underworld moves with the ten pointed star. One must follow the star every ten years and relocate their dead to that location. The star only moved in a certain space around the person’s world. So if that person were a peasant the star would be constrained to the land they worked on.

Icarus, however, was no peasant. He sailed the world sea and beyond. To find where his family lay, you would need the Trill calendar as well as how far Icarus traveled as well as when he died.”

Ersel looked at me with puzzled eyes. As if I could have said anything less clear. “What?” I questioned in my godly tone.

“It seems a bit much, even for Icarus. I mean. If he lived so long, why would he go to all the trouble to dig up and move his family to some far away location every ten years? If I were him, I would keep them close. Maybe bury them in the nearest graveyard and be done with it.”

Why humans cared so much to bury their dead escaped me. When trees died, they just stayed there. I assumed all dead did that. I suppose humans were an exception to that. In fact they were an exception to many things. The ability to think was one of them, Ersel so aptly proved that.

Ersel kept staring at me. I realized she could not hear my thoughts. A pity, maybe I could have shed some of my brilliance on her.

I decided to entertain her, “Say he did bury his family near his person. You would still have to find where he last was.”

Ersel scanned me curiously, “Another story then.”

I rolled my pearled eyes, “Ers-”

“One with a lot of treasure.”

I made a line with my mouth and glared at her. “If I remember correctly, you humans practice ‘sleep’ a necessity if you wish to stay awake once we start moving tomorrow.”

Ersel frowned immensely and got up, “Your right.”

Of course I was.

“But first.” She continued. She had to ruin it. “I got you this.”

“A present.” I said aloud. She did not answer. Instead she reached for her knapsack and pulled out a long cloak. It was crudely stitched, but as dark as elm.

She smiled as she handed me it, “I promised you I would ‘hide’ you.” She said with a snicker. Strange why she emphasized ‘hide’, as if she were trying to make a point. My thoughts reverted to the cloak as Ersel’s dumb smile turned flat.

My mouth made a half-frown. To deny the people of my aesthetic greatness was cruel. So very cruel. I glanced at Ersel, perhaps she meant good. I sighed, the girl often made me do that. “I suppose I cannot deny a gift from my devout follower. As a god, I shall accept your lowly-”

“Lowly!” She frowned again, snatching the cloak before I could, “Fine. Seeing as you are a god, I wager you’ll be just as divine when they cut off your arms and set you ablaze.”

I laughed, she had quite the imagination. Though she did not confirm my suspicion. She only stared at me, as stone eyed as before. I started to doubt myself. Was she serious? I tried to imagine what she said, what if it were true…

“No!” I cried, “I just got these arms!”

“Wear the cloak.” Pouted Ersel. I reached for it carefully, my arms wavering ever so slightly, and quickly grabbed the cloak. “Oh,” started Ersel “and I’m not your devout follower.” I tossed the cloak over my shoulder and watched her get up. She turned as I got the cloak in place, “But you are mine.”

The nerve!