Fall of the Archer pt. 1

The Fall of the Archer

"For we are all made disastrous spectacles by the fates and autumn destroys the everyman and the everygod."

“I’ll try.” She screamed. “Try not to lose you.” It was more of a soft whisper. Emotions made her voice crack even though the words were barely audible. Her soft blue orbs were thunderstorms as silent rain cascaded down her tanned cheeks. Her dark hair danced in the wind that swept through the park. The skies were ominous and quiet and the object of her affection, the target of her words, stood with eyes that were just as radiant and just as thunderous. He bit his bottom lip, in a nervousness that was child-like. The young man wore torn denim jeans, a dark brown shirt with the emblem of a grenade, and a gray bandanna that hung loosely around his neck. He closed his eyes and his thoughts were accompanied by a sudden thunderous exaltation from the dark clouds above him. Run now Ryan, run as you never ran before.
The young opened his eyes and stared through the soft soul of the beautiful girl before him, a girl who could squeeze her hand and crush his heart with a word. It was not a matter of love anymore, but a matter of escape. He read somewhere in some book before a line that had always had some indirect influence of his actions: Escape artists never die.
He spun and as the next chord from the heaven ricocheted through the sky, his legs pulled him across the park. Behind him he could hear the girls screams of protest, she beckoned him to stay, he wanted to stay. Something was wrong and so he ran. He ran after himself and away from himself and even the heavens found no peace. More thunder crashed and he ran harder, his feet splashed through puddles, he jumped park benches, and cut through a couple who walked hand in hand next to the water’s edge. He neared the edge of the park were bushes lined the edge and he pushed himself harder. As he sprinted up the border of bushes he threw himself over them. As he landed the last thing he noticed was a pair of headlights that swung low. Like a sweet and bitter chariot, ushering him like a dark priest into the night. Darkness took his eyesight and the last thought he found in the fathoms of pain that wrecked his body was simple, confusing, and from nowhere. I will miss her… a light music took over that though, like a soft playing violin, or a slow guitar riff. He fought against the music in his head, pushing himself to hold on to his mind and to hold onto his life. The music grew louder and slowly. The music was painful, annoying, and chilling. It fought against Ryan’s defiance easily and without much effort. He would be lost in it, he felt himself being tied and bound by it. He fell into bleakness, into nothingness. He fell.
The sun rose the next day, like Morningstar, brilliant in itself. It rose like a king, filled with pride of its beauty manifest, and standing above all in its created radiance, allowing none to raise themselves against it. The oceans merely reflected the light, offering none in itself, but using the sun to bring a sting of brightness across the sea-green wakes that trailed behind a huge ship that was not unlike the massive instruments of the medieval Spanish armadas under the command of the Duke of Medina Sidonia. The ship contained countless rows and columns of cannons that stuck out mimicking the spines of a porcupine. It cascaded across the sea, with great powerful sails that mastered even the hardest of tempests. 
Aboard the ship, in the front of the foremast and above the bowspirit (a relic that depicted a incapacitated mermaid wielding two battle axes), stood the captain of the Firemind. His hat was crimson, his coat yellow, and buckles and leather straps held his clothing, swords, and guns in place. Pouches of various coins, medicines and relics, hung off his belts lightly. He stood with a gait of confidence, silent strength, his spirit oozed authority at his mere presence. He was born to command, fate instigated his soul to sail, and he was a prisoner of his light-hearted and adventurous spirit. He was the everyman, wild to the depths of his heart. He turned from the horizon of the sea and looked back to the ship, where the crew he commanded, ran to and fro like a well-oiled systematic machine. 
“Hold men! Poseidon is blessing our sails today! We’ll make port in two days at these speeds!” He roared.
“Aye captain! Hold!” The crew all spoke in complete and undefiled unison. The echoes of four-dozen men lashed through the inner works of the ship. The Captain spun back to look at the waves. The waters held his heart firm in his passion. He was a master of the sea in as much as he was a bondservant to its depths. He would die on them, and his life would only be complete in the waves caress of his ship. His dark eyes watched the horizon and he smiled.
In a suddenness that took even the Captain in surprise, a thunderous boom shattered the skies. With not a cloud in the sky, his eyes searched for the source of the noise. For a clue to where it originated. His eyes pulled a black speck from the sky several spans away, it freefell from the bright blue infinitude as if appearing out of nothing and nowhere. The freefall lasted for several long moments and finally crashed into the waters ahead. The captain’s own mouth opened in shock and he spun to his crew, who all met his gaze with the same surprise. 
“Something fell from the sky. Perhaps it is a blessing from the gods. Full ahead!” He commanded and his crew obeyed with an uncertain hyper-activity. They have all been sailing for these many months without event. Anything would be a mere excuse for a surge of excitement. The ship groaned in response and picked up speed as the crew manipulated its sails to trap even more of the great winds. 
Before the next hour was up, the ship had traveled the several spans to the object the fell from the sky. The captain watched from his place before the foremast with intrigue as a small boat was landed to the waters and a small crew paddled out to the floating dark object. They pulled in it with haste and after a quick inspection the leader of the crew yelled out back the captain. 
“It’s a man or a boy! He is still alive, if barely!”
“Bring him aboard!” The captain commanded back without hesitation.