The Boy Escapes

The bow of the ship breaks through the confines of the rushing ocean as the harsh winds pull and tear at the sails. The sailors on deck find no comfort in the darkness of the clouds, nor the pouring uncertainty of rain that falls upon their shoulders. The lightning cracks, the thunder ROARS!, and the rain continues to fall.On deck men scream, and shout orders to tie down the sails. Under all the panic, in the concealment of the downpour, pass the roars of thunder, a hatch continues to squeak. On the outside the hatch is just a hatch. It has no grand purpose, and one wouldn't notice it, let alone its tiny squeak. No, not the squeak, but perhaps the light illuminating out from its portal. A small handmade candle’s light. A man sits still on the wooden floor. He illuminates no light, but reflects it. His lips bust, his eyes swollen, and his body broken. His blood soaks his clothes, but the wounds in his heart not only match the beating of his body, but double them so. His name is not important, his skin doesn't matter, know only that he is a part of you, of me, and us all. Although small or large that part may be, or what it would be called, I do not know, but fate has dubbed him "John" and so shall we. We shall be but specters, phantoms  if you will, in his world, we will do nothing, only watch. Although, first we must understand how John has come to this point.  I must warn you, this story is not for the faint of heart, but you are strong. After all this book has chosen you as its owner, and  I must abide by it’s will. As such we venture forth ever slowly…slowly… soon we are stopping, the furious rain stops, even the lightening is at a standstill. The boat halts, everything moves not. Time starts to push back with a tremendous speed. As we are pulled  back through the confines of space-time we leave not but an echo in the still frame we've left behind.
            The time is simpler, the air is breezy, the island sun is warm and peaceful. A purple carriage with four horses is going down the main road. The carriage seems to be heading to the new Dragon Hearts Estate. The people look in ah as though  they have never seen such wonder.  “White horses! How majestic” a woman cries, “ Nobles killed my father, may they all burn in the forge!” mocks the blacksmith. The little boy inside the carriage has no recollection of such talk, only his pompous stepmother and his father’s impenitent face. The carriage soon comes to a grinding halt. The boy looks outside the carriage door to his new home. The mansion sits tall just off the shore with a gate three times the boy’s size surrounding it. The front yard is wild with flowers, and old statues of heroes long past and forgotten. The stepmother pushes pass the boy. He falls to the floor.
“Get up off the floor, less you tarnish our good name and ruin the suit I bought you.” says the woman.
The boy listens as his father exit’s the carriage.
“Listen to your mother, James she’s right with these kinds of things.” says the heavy gutted baron.
“No dear, I believe the boy’s name is Jimmy or Johnny” incorrectly corrects the woman.
John looks down in disappointment. Mother? I had one such person, but the heavens took her and left me for not, but hell.
            Now these be not the thoughts of an ordinary young  boy, but John  is no such lad. John is hold of to a mind of escape.  However, for noblemen, such a dream is long and far. Many do not take kindly to nobles, except thieves and beggars making such escapes difficult. He only claim such a dream through books and stories. In fact on the night of his mother’s death he read a fifteen books in one night. The people in the noble community called him a prodigy.  John hated them for neglecting his mother’s death so wholeheartedly, let alone his own anguish. They praised his father for his son’s brain. “Truly, he is of noble blood, he takes not from his mother.” some would say. John knows whom he has taken after. He knew then and now because she had read to him every night, cared for him, but more importantly he knew because he didn't carry a “noble” sense, but a common one. He liked to think that his father thought as much  somewhere in back his heart, but soon, with the help of a wealthy merchant’s daughter, even his father would completely forget the commoner he had fallen for and the son she bore, his father would only have a future of noble blooded children and a merchant’s fleet upon his brow
            As time passed, the days turned to weeks, the weeks into months, and the leaves into colors of browns, oranges, reds, and yellows.  John has just snuck out of the house, leaving his etiquette tutor wondering where he’s run off to this time. His father’s screams of anger can be heard from the courtyard as he yells at the servants to find John.  John knows they will not find him, if he does not wish them to do so. I have never hid in the same place more than once. Although more often than not, the place matters not, so much as them not taking notice. John hides behind the tallest statue in grand garden along the great black steel fence. As the servants look for their young master, John stares down the large hole in the fence. So many times he has stared at this break in the barrier, this overlooked gateway. He knows the complication of the people beyond, and yet… To run through the town, the will to explore, to escape, temps his heart with every beat. Just outside the walls, the town of Gluck(GL-OOK I) waits for him.  The children running through the streets, laughing, playing marbles. John never plays marbles, nor does he ever “get along” with the noble children. In fact they often just poke at John for his commoners blood. John knows he will face such discrimination outside the gates of the mansion, but the town is vast outside the garden, perhaps he could find somewhere to fit in, he could die outside the estate. A robbery, a rogue horse, the dangers were endless.
John doesn’t want to doubt himself. He runs for the hole. Before he can think, before he comes to regret the decision, he plunges through the fence. He runs down Mayweather street, running anywhere his feet will take him with a smile wide across his face. The people all look in befuddlement as a noble boy rushes down the street in his royal purple garments.  The rush to John’s head seems to have thrown his head for a loop or he may have seen  the marbles on the floor. He fell back first right on the chalk circle use for playing marble. The three children who had been playing surround him.
“L’ok at what ya done, ya left f’ot s’n o’ a walkin’ c’in purse” scowls the taller of the three.
“Jimmy let's teach him a lesson!” says the boy behind him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean too…” whimpered John.
“No, ya’r not, but ya wills be” smirks  Jimmy.
Jimmy’s big fat fist comes down swiftly on John’s face. John’s body swayed in confusion.  The other two throw him in alley and proceed to stomp their boots further into his body.  He has never felt pain such as this. The pain hurts. John clenches the dirt in his hand. He grips it tight and lets it into the face of the big ball of fat and muscle  known only as Jimmy. He shoves another into a wall, making a break for it down Stranger’s Street  making his way through the crowds. The other children give chase, but do not dare go in ahead of Jimmy lest he turn on them as well. John in the meanwhile runs behind the clockwork building looking for a place to hide. He notices some old ship crates long abandoned. Just as he is about to take cover behind them a whisper comes from behind him. “No, they’ll find you there, Come. This way.” Suddenly, a child about his age drags him into a thin crawl space at the very back of the building made by the partnering of both the clockwork building and the butcher’s shop.
“Shh don’t move, less you wanna get bonkered in da face. Alright?”  says the whisper.
            John remains still and silent. Jimmy’s horde runs into the alley. They look around, but ignore the crawl space, finding nothing.  They leave the alley making their way down Cherry street.  John crawls from his place of hiding.
“Thank you. I owe you one.” says John gracefully.
“Oh good. I’m glad you feel the same way.”  The whisper no longer a whisper comes from a young boy dawning  clothing scraps, an old wool coat and a cap for his attire. The dirt and dust of the city seems to fall off his very shoulders as he walks.
“Pardon?” John questions.
“You heard me. You owe me one. I saved your  backside. The LOWER part might I add.” says the boy.
“I am grateful for the help, but what can I do for a...um...for a…fellow…such as yourself.” asks John.
“You won’t huh? Then I’ll have ta beat some sense inta ya-Wait you agreeing with me?” says the boy  with a slap of confusion upon his face.
“You came to my aid, and it’s the noble thing to do.” says John much to the boys astonishment.
“Noble you say? I like the ring of that. Noble. You're alright kid. I like the way you think. The names Billy Holeboots, on a count a the holes in m’ boots.” says Billy as his hand stretches out in greeting.
“John of the Dragonhe--” John hesitates. He can’t tell him he’s from the Dragon hearts family. He thought for a moment then pushed forward with his words.  “--I mean of the DRAGON! I like stories about dragons.”
“Well Dragon, you and me, we’re gonna make our way inta high society. You, with your great stealing and me with ma brains.” John looks at Billy befuddled. “What? I assumed you were a thief with the duds your wearin‘. I mean the only other way you could get duds like that was if you’s was a noble and if you’re a noble I‘m the queen of New France!” Billy laughs.
John laughs awkwardly  hoping Billy doesn‘t think too much into the situation. “Don’t worry I ain’t gonna rat you out, now come on we got a job to do.”
Good he doesn’t suspect anything. Well at the very least I hope he doesn’t suspect anything. Mother always said “Lies are like dog fangs. They can go unnoticed, but when bare, can cause for a lot of trouble.”
John and Billy walk down up Mayweather street. For the first time John takes in the strong buildings carved of stone and wood that passed him by before when he was running. The people busting in all directions to get to where they want to go, coming from buildings, riding out on horseback and into town. The merchants sell their goods all along Mayweather street all the way down to Moby’s lane near the docks. “Get the fine wares in all of Loradon! Only three don!” and another shouts “The finest wine anywhere! I guarantee you’ll fall happy with one sip!” John notices a woman with a small wooden table. He walks to the table falling behind Billy. Her face is nothing but empty shadows behind her cloak.
“Hello child. I see you have taken notice of my crystal ball.  Sit, I will tell your fortune.” says the old woman.
“But I do not have the money.” John says in despoilment.
“Worry not child. I shall read your fortune for free.” says the woman.
“So be it. I shall hear your fortune.”
The woman looks deeply into the crystal ball. She hums the words of strange decent. John has never heard such words. They confuse him, but simultaneously calm him. After a moment of silence a hand comes over Johns shoulder. John jumps. It‘s Billy. “Come on, this lady is only trying to swindled you out of your money.  They are a million like her all over town. Beside we got a job remember?”
“Right” John walks away following Billy.
As the children walk away  the old woman whispers to herself “This is odd. I could not see his future. This has never happened. I am certain that it is there, but I am blocked from it’s presence. Why?”
*
The house does little to stand in the pillars of buildings.  The height is not so great and the fence not so tall. At least not when compared to that of the Dragon Hearts mansion.  The merchant who lives there is a mean old man. Calls himself Shelp Goldford. Greed fills his heart like the dirt fills the land. He thinks nothing of Christmas nor any other holiday for that matter, as a reason to stop production, and only as means of taking from others.  His workers hate him, his wife left him, and even his dog can’t stand the smell of him. As for the mansion’s small stature, it wasn’t that he could not afford an expensive mansion so much as he did not want an expensive  mansion. Now so filled with his love for coin, he will regret focusing his eyes on his coin purse and not the two boys working their way around the back of his cheap old mansion’s short fence into the bushes.
*
“So we’re going to steal?” asks John “and from this house? Why?”
“I figured the greediest merchant in all of Loradon, if not the entire world, would have something of value. So I started asking around. The rumors say he‘s got a gun and after three people tell you the same thing, it’s pretty much fact. That’s what we're stealing taday.” answered.
“I don’t think this is the best of ideas.” says John hesitantly.
“Listen you, you owe me one. This is the one. You agreed. Stop chickenin’ out on me and let's get this thing going.” commands Billy.  
“Okay. I get it. I’ll do it.” says John earnestly.
“Good. Its the noble thing to do after all.” smiles Billy “Anyways here’s the plan. You get in there. I’ll be lookout. If someone’s coming I’ll give the signal. I’ll throw a rock at the door or somethin‘. For now I’ll work on opening the back door.”
They walk to the big wooden door at the back of the house. The lock is old, but sturdy. Much to John’s surprise, Billy take out an assortment of  steel thieves tools. He delicately places them on the floor and works them on the lock. After a minute or two the falls off. Billy looks at John with a smirk.
“Best twenty don I ever spent in my life. Definitely worth a week’s worth of empty stomach too.” says Billy “Now its all on you Dragon. Get the gun. Don’t get side tracked. You're only there to get the gun. Got it?”
“I got it. Get the gun. Get out.” John says nervously. He had never robbed from anyone. He never needed too. This would be his first time.
“Good, now go” says Billy hurriedly.
John pushes the door open slowly and makes his way into Shelp’s abode. Almost from ceiling, antiques fill the room. A red carpet stretches  across the long marble floor, it too an antique. The walls are painted a very royal blue. A global catches John’s attention.  John has always had a good respect for the geography of the world and its history. He spins the global until it comes to Loradon. Loradon is made up of a small region off the coast of the papal states and a large part of what was once Tuscany before the civil war. I wonder what would’ve happened if the kings fell and the church left? Would there be a world at all? His eyes fell into wonder. In this world there are very little things one can say to defend oneself in its chaos, freedom of speech is limited in political expressions. I detest this world, but it is mine, all I have ever known, so I guess it can’t be the worst. Can it?
            He strips his eyes away from the global. He searches the room, but finds nothing but old expensive looking knickknacks. He comes across papers burying a desk at the far end of the room.  John glances at them for a second. They talk of new prototypes for some kind of weapon. John ignores them. He keeps looking for the gun. He moves up the stairs. He walks into the first room nothing, then the second, and then the third. In the third he doesn’t find a gun, but he does find a….Library? A Library! There are books here that even I have never seen before. He takes a book off the shelf and begins to read. After what seems like a moment he puts down the book, and  makes his way for the fourth and final room. The flintlock gun is conveniently on a mantle hanging off the wall. He goes for the gun, but can’t reach it. He looks around the room for a solution. A desk sits facing the door with a window behind it. A trunk sits at the side.  He pulls a chair from around the desk and uses it to grab the gun.  He notices something as he holds the gun. The gun is gold and heavy. Something is wrong. Guns don’t use gold,it’s too heavy, and the barrel is too short. This goes against everything I have read about them.  He put the gun back on mantle. For what the decoration may be worth, John hates the notion of fortune in the shape of a powerful weapon,  besides it doesn't hold any real power. Now if I were a merchant where would I place a REAL gun? He walks over to the desk and notices a draw. To his surprise the draw is unlocked.  He opens the draw, grabbing the gun inside along with the metal pellets laying next to it. A real gun. The cold steel, the carved wood, the weight of  the bullets in your hand. Never would I think to have hold one in my lifetime.
            He puts the gun in the space between his pants and his waist. He makes his way down the stairs. As he reaches the last step the doorknob turns. John is frighten. He doesn’t know what to do.  He hides among the great pile of antiques and prays that he is not seen.
*
Mr. Shelp walks through the door of his home trembling in fear. Only terror on his mind. The terror of a weapon falling into the wrong hands. The terror of many deaths being on his hands. “The town could be destroyed! What was I thinking! My greed has always served me well, this weapon was originally meant for the nation’s welfare. Now I fear that the town may crumble…I know what I must do. I must leave, but they would fine me, for my crime will have been too great, and when they do they’ll torture me. I do not long for this world.” says the merchant shaking, talking to the air as only a dead man walking can.  The merchant runs upstairs. He opens the draw to find his gun missing. He hears the back door slam. He runs downstairs, and opens the door. Nothing. For a thief to rob the one tool in my home able to set me free... Perhaps even the gods wish for me to suffer.
*
Billy and John ran back to the alley as fast as they could. The children couldn’t believe how well that had gone. John hold the gun out to Billy along with the bullets.
“You’ll make a nobleman yet, Dragon. Now with this we can make our way to the top.” says Billy excitingly.
“Yes, about that. I think I’d rather stay at the bottom.” says John remorsefully.
“Why in the word would ANYONE want to stay at the bottom. The only thing at the bottom is rotten people, crumbs for food, and…” Billy does not finish, and is interrupted by John.
“and Freedom.” says John.
“Freedom, Shee-dumb. Think of the money. The power.” says Billy’s eyes widen with money and dreams of fancy.
“Yes, and the responsibility. The rotten people with money. Rotten people who, in fact, have not earned the right be rotten.”  says John with a grim look.
“Come on. Let's not think about this crap. We robbed a gun! A freaking gun!” says Billy with a smile wide across his face.
“Yes, I guess you're right. It was pretty exciting..” says John “No thanks to your look out skills though.” John cracks a half a smile, a bit awkwardly, but a smile nonetheless. The first smile, in fact, in a long while.
“Oh come on. I was keeping lookout,” says Billy angry “besides I’m the mastermind behind the whole shebang, so wipe that smile off your face. “
Unfortunately for Billy, John’s smile only grows wider. Soon both start to laugh. Somehow Billy knows that his friend needs it, and his anger seems to have fallen away.  Friend. Feels weird. Never had one of those, then again never had someone I felt I could trust.
Suddenly a hand claps down on John’s shoulder. The owner of the hand a guardsman of his father’s. John tries to resist, but fails.
“My lord, your father is worried about.  You have been gone for hours. Your stepmother is also...aware of your disappearance,” says the guard “I am to bring you back on his order, so stop fidgeting.”   
Billy stood in surprise, as he stared at the crest on the shoulder of the guard.  Dragon hearts! One of the of the King‘s hand. So they say. John on the other hand would not have any of it. No, I won’t go back. Never! Billy seeing his friend struggling, hits the guard with a piece of raw meat from the butcher’s trash.  Dragon hearts or not, if anyone messes with one of my friends they get rotten meat in the eye!  The guard keels over in pain as he wipes the rotten meat off his face. Billy looks at John.
“Run  Dragon, run!” Shouts Billy. The echo is heard throughout the alley as John runs outside the alley. In a panic he runs into the clockwork shop. The bell rings as John rushes in. Clocks fill the walls, and a strange wooden puppet sits on display. No one  is present behind the counter, and so John makes his way behind it, taking cover just in case the guard decides make his way in. He tries to catch his breath, then bell of the door rings, his breath escapes him, it‘s the guard.
As the guard makes his way in, and a the back door behind  the counter opens, making escape less impractical and more impossible. It seems John will be caught here and now. It seems the shopkeeper will walk through the backdoor and see John, all confounded, or so john thinks.  However, when the shopkeeper came out of the door, he stared at John for but a moment, then winked.
“Excuse me, have you seen a boy come through here?” said the guard.
“No, can’t say that I have. I can’t say for the life of me why I would, children aren't very fond of clocks and such.” said the old shopkeeper.
The guard doesn't seem to suspect much. After all why would an old man lie? He would have nothing to gain harboring the child.
“Very well, if you see anything, alert one of my guard, or the Dragonheart household.” stated the guard as he left.
“I’ll do that.” smiles the old man.
The bell rings and the guard is gone.
John looks at the old man and the old man back down at him. A weak and weary man. An old man, worn man. His eyes broken by times passing, once so blue and full of life, now miserable,  peering at the darkness that haunts a man of loss, and  lonesome woe.  He bends down to meet John at eye length. He smiles.
“Well, young man, what would your story be?” says the man kindly and warm.
John’s face full of  puzzlement. How did your day go?  Where are you going? Where have you been? No,  the answer to this question isn’t in his repertoire, and even if  it is, it has never been said so kindly, so warmly...so informal.
John unsure how to answer, while a little uncomfortable,  stands firm, and tells the truth. The man did help him escape the guard.
“My name is John…John  Dragonheart, I fled from my home to see the town.”
“Hmm, I see.” says the man.
“Well, aren’t you going to state your name?” John asks.
“Nope. A man who holds the name of another holds power over that man. I would not be so foolish as to give my name to a child, especially one of nobility.” answers the man.
“I may hold the house of Dragonheart, but I am born of half common blood.” says John with pride.
“A man cannot be half nobility or half commoner. Unfortunately you existence in a world where there is no middle. Where even the wealthiest merchant falls to the second rate noble.”
John’s anger grows with annoyance, and perhaps a little arrogance. He should know better, he may even know so, but his dream will not be sullied by a man who traps himself in a shop making…clocks!
"Listen, and listen well clock-maker, I have lived as a child of nobility only in name, I have parents that I assume may question my very existence, all nobles are of the second rate, and I ..." it is now that John realizes he sounds like the very thing he does not wish to become, a noble.
"You realize, yes? Do you not?" Says the old clock-maker, "You are a noble."

Salt water fills the eyes of John, but there is no sea near, his throat starts to compress, but not a soul lays their hands upon his neck. The tightness in chest starts to trap the air inside his lungs, it dares not escape. Had the clock-maker set a curse upon him? No, he has felt such feeling before, so many a time, but only once worse than at this very moment. Only once, at the funeral, only once.  

The old man's eyes roll over in guilt, for only the lowliest of men do not feel guilt for a weeping child. He reached for the old wooden puppet and pulled upon the strings to grant it new found life.
"Why do you cry child?"  Says the puppet, "You must smile! For you are young, fill of hope, and you shouldn't give into an old man who has forgotten himself, specially this one!"
"Excuse me? I have not forgotten myself at all!" Mocks the old man to the puppet.
John could not help but smile, he knows the puppet is but the voice of the old man, but somewhere inside John's young heart, far past his superior intellect, he wanted to believe that perhaps... the puppet...did in fact... talk. The seawater tears left with the passing tide of the would be puppet and his would be puppeteer.
"Yes, he has forgotten himself, but he is right, I'm a bad, no good, noble demanding orders just as the rest do, putting myself above the others." mourned John.
"Well,  perhaps if you do a servant's work your nobility will have a commoner's mark?" Said the wooden boy, "you could sweep and dust the floor's of this very shop!"
"Wait a minute." said the old man "That is preposterous, a noble can't work in MY shop. I am but a common man."
"Nonsense the boy can, and will work here." Disagreed the puppet, " However, he must have a commoner's sense and a yearning to work for a commonwealth."
"Well do you have common sense?"
"Certainly, I do." Says John.
"And you have a yearning to work for the commonwealth?"
"Yes, I undoubtedly do." answered John.
"Ah well, he will never be able to convince his parents of such a task, will you boy?" Says the old man.
"I will old man, I will!" Boasts John.
"Good. Then you have only tonight to do so for tomorrow work starts bright and early. Ah and one thing before you go. You mustn't tell your father that I place this labor upon you, for if he knew he would grow angry at me. I fear he will break all my clocks, and I will have run out time."
John is unable to believe that he will begins working in a common shop. It would mean time away from the house he so loathes. He could finally have conversations with children who would not pick on him and. maybe even see Billy again. All he has to do is confront his father. Simple enough.
John runs out the door to confront the guard with new resolve. Telling the guard  to take him home, and that he wishes to speak with his father.
"That's the last will see of him" says the puppet.
"Maybe, but what do I know, I'm just a worn old man...." said the old man.
"...who plays with puppets." The elder stares at the puppet for sometime after John's departure, and perhaps he wishes for a response, but it is to no avail. The old man smiles and places the puppet back on counter and continues to work on the clocks that need fixing.
***
Now, Leoknightis Dragon had always been a good man of sorts. In his youth he often saw the poor and wished to help them. However Leoknightis's ideas were scolded, or ignored at the thought of aiding the commoners. He grew to hate the nobility,it had been one of the reasons he had taken a wife of commonwealth, and perhaps love. However, love has long left a vile taste in his soulful tongue. With Eleanor's death the man inside crumbled. His spirit detached from his body, and now what's left, but a hollow man wrapped around a serpent's fangs pumping venom into his feeble shell. He knows the truth, but death is numbness so great that even pain can be mistaken for affection, stupidity for joy, and chaos for reason. So it is this, young John stands before, it is he who fathered him, and it is he whom young John must reason.
"Absolutely not," shouts Leoknightis "no son of my house will work for a....a... commoner..." The words felt ill and concocted, especially the last.
"Father, you have forgotten my name this morning, you have ignored me ever since mother's passing! This is my only wish!"

The boy is right. Leoknightis alone in his thoughts in the chamber of his office could not ignore this. The boy makes sense to his ears, in fact it is himself whom he is starting to doubt. It is so much easier when the serpent's venom is there to force his hand. Leoknightis so much wished to tell him the true reason for his betrayal, about how he could not bear to gaze upon the boy without spirits of the past bellowing their way into the confines of his conscience.  He always wishes too...but the air holds his tongue.

"I said NO! You are a noble of the Dragonhearts! What would Clara say!" enrages Leoknightis. His anger begins to fester, for reasons he cannot  comprehend, won't comprehend. His teeth grind shut as John begins to speak further.
"That greedy, arrogant woman is not my mother. Even if she bore offspring I doubt she would be worthy of such a title. No, my mother DIED!" Yells John.

The next few seconds seem to happen in hours. Leoknightis's fists begin to crawl. His stomach starts to turn and his arm begins to rise. His fist comes down hard upon John's cheek from a cross the old office desk. Shock and horror echo with in John’s mind, but more so in Leoknightis. He had never hit anyone in his life before this moment, not the people who belittled him, not his servants, no one. Now he had hit someone. Now, had hit his own son.

"Do as you like, I shall take care of Clara, now be off John, and speak of this to no one." Says Leoknightis.

Like a ghost John leaves without a word. Silent. Alone. Leoknightis stands in his chamber. He looks around mournfully, he feels something has changed. He looks at the walls, but only fresh white paint stains them, he looks to his desk, but it shows not an answer, he looks at the windows, the curtains are uncovered, but darkness looms as the clouds start to grey. As the minutes pass, rain starts to pour. "Ah, it is just the rain. Just the rain..." he takes a bottle from his draw, takes a large gulp, places it firmly on the mahogany desk and begins to finish the scattered papers. "Just the rain....."

_End of Chapter 1
***