Chapter 2

The Master of the Island

Kuatron looked out of his large bedroom window which overlooked the harbor. He watched as the fishing fleet prepared their nets and pushed off from the docks out into the blue ocean. He continued to stare as if in a trance as the water swirled with debris and sand churned up from the bottom by the receding ships. The master of the island let out a great sigh and turned away from the view. Quatrina had always loved the sea. Thinking of her was always very painful, but wherever he went he was reminded of her long light brown hair that framed her petite face and her wide, gentle eyes. Her eyes were the thing he missed most about her. Those expressive, sea-green eyes. Whenever he thought of those eyes though, he thought about his son.

The very thought caused a snarl to come to his lips and he wished every time he thought of Quatrina that the child had not been born. True, he had been wishing that she would give birth to a son so that the inheritance would stay in the direct family, but he would rather the child had died instead of his wife.

Kuatron decided to try and forget about his son by immersing himself in his work. However hard he tried though, his thoughts always wandered back to the boy. Kuatron knew that the birthing nurse Pertania had him and was raising him in her cottage. What had she named him again? Oh, yes he remembered. It was Quatre. How dare she name that thing after him and his beloved wife!

That name nagged on his brain all day and finally convinced him that he would go to the cottage and request, no, demand that the childs' name be changed! The boy would never inherit this island and would certainly not have the family name, much less his wife's and his. His mind made up, Kuatron prepared to head to the little cottage on the edge of town. He was just pulling on his boots when a messenger from the main town on the island, the town that the Winner palace was situated, hurried into his office.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Sir, urgent news from the harbor. You are needed there at once," the boy gasped out.

It wasn't until after dark that night that Kuatron remembered about his plans of going down to Pertania's cottage. The idea had been pushed out of his head until then with one thing after another that he was required, or urgently needed to do. He suddenly realized that just changing the boy's name really wouldn't help him much. The child being the only male and direct descendent of him would inherit the throne no matter what he did. The last thing in the world Kuatron wanted to do was to put Quatre on the throne. It was enough just having to remember that it was that child that had been the cause of his wife's death. Oh how he wished, as he did every day, that the child had died instead of his Quatrina!

His rambling thoughts had suddenly given him another idea. What if he were to say that the child had come down with a disease and died? Then he could chose who ever he wanted to inherit the throne! That was the answer!

There was still one problem though. He couldn't really kill the boy, and he couldn't banish Pertania and him from the island. She might very well tell him about his bloodlines. He would much rather keep the child nearby to make sure that he never found out.

Kuatron took out some parchment and ink and began writing the terrible letter to Pertania ordering her not to tell the boy that he was the direct descendant of the Winner bloodline under pain of death. Then all that was left was get this news spread across the island. He smiled and realized how easy that would be with the way that the inhabitants of the island loved to gossip about the Winner family. All that was needed was to pass along the false information to the right people and soon the whole island would know about the tragic death of his only son and direct heir to the throne. He grinned maliciously. It was all but too easy.

The news of the death of the Winner boy did not sit well with the people of the island of Cailon. At first they felt pity for the son, because he had hardly a chance to live at all. Then the pity turned towards the father. How awful it must be first to lose his wife, and then his only son! When Quatre's funeral was held, the line of mourners stretched from the Winners private burial ground by the sea, where the burial was being held, throughout the streets of the main town to the very outskirts and the slums of the suburbs.

Pertania was ordered to attend the funeral and act as though she was mourning the death of the child. Afterwards she was to continue caring for the child, but she was never to let him out of the house and was never to tell him who his parents were. The old woman asked several times why this elaborate scheme was being held but she was told not to ask questions and to just obey the wishes of Kuatron.

Pertania knew in her heart though why Kuatron was posing his son's death. It gave him the opportunity to name whoever he wanted as successor to the throne. She felt a strong hatred toward Kuatron and his biased and unjust plan. He didn't even know his son, and yet he was ready to forget all about him. Pertania thought that Kuatron's hatred was misplaced. He shouldn't carry a grudge against his son. It wasn't the boy's fault that Quatrina had died. For some reason though, no one could make Kuatron see that.

Pertania did attend the funeral, and her sadness was not simply an act. She felt truly sorry for Quatre. Not because he was dead, because he wasn't, but because of the isolated life he would have to endure. With the orders that no one was to know that he was still alive, Quatre would never know anyone else but Pertania. He would never have any friends, and would probably never even be allowed to leave the confines of Pertania's cottage. When he was older how would she keep him from asking why he was never allowed to leave? A boy of his already known intelligence would not be satisfied with the lies that Pertania could tell him. No, thought Pertania, if he ever asks I will tell him the truth.

It was doubtful that Kuatron would ever find out that she had disobeyed his orders. Anyway, the truth was always better even if it was a harsh truth. With that renewed sense of purpose Pertania headed back to her cottage where Quatre was in his crib fast asleep.

Quatre grew quickly over the next few years. Even though he was a very curious child, he never asked any questions. Pertania noticed that he was a very sweet child and whenever she was home he would follow her around clutching the edge of her skirt and sucking on a small cloth. His beautiful blue-green eyes were always alert whenever he was awake, taking in everything that happened around him. His eyes though seemed to do all the talking for him because he was very quiet. He was very attentive though and listened to everything that Pertania said.

"Yes, I went down to the street market today and picked up some fresh fruit for you Quatre," she would babble on, "and I also bought you a new pair of trousers, because you are just growing so fast, aren't you pet?

He listened to this and would always smile and nod at her around the edge of the wet rag he clutched in one fist, the rest of it in his mouth. Quatre also began to show another interest besides listening to everything Pertania said. He experimented with his gift. He would make small objects and toys zoom through the air into his playpen. Every time he did this he would laugh happily and look up at Pertania to see if his action had amused her too.

Most of the time though, she would shake her head and cluck her tongue at him disapprovingly. Quatre could never find out why this displeased her so. He didn't want to make her angry, but he couldn't help using his power. The small boy used it as much as possible when she was out of the house, but was always careful to make everything return to where it had come from before she returned home. As careful as Quatre was, Pertania still realized what he was doing. She didn't know how to tell him not to though because he was only three years old.

When he was five years old though, Pertania finally her foot down on the matter. She had told him for what seemed the hundredth time that week, that no, he could not go outside. He then tried to sneak out be the back door, but she caught him and began to lecture him fiercely that he was not allowed outside. Thinking that the matter had been settled, she turned back to her work. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye she saw a brilliant flash of blue light, and then the sound of glass breaking. She turned around to see Quatre standing in the middle of the living room surrounded by the glass from the shattered front window.

"Quatre!" she shouted."What did you do?!"

"I...I didn't mean to!" he cried and ran from the room.

Later that night after she had cleaned up the glass and put a sheet over open window, Pertania called Quatre to her. With head bowed low, he walked in slowly. He looked quickly at the window and then up at Pertania. The boy looked so dejected that she walked over to him and put her arm around his small bony shoulders. She steered him over to the soft couch and sat him down on it.

"Quatre, you must listen to me. Now don't look at me that way, I'm not mad at you. What you do need to understand is that you shouldn't use your gift."

"But, why not?" he asked.

"Because Quatre, there are people that if they ever found out about your gift they would try to hurt you. Do you understand?"

He shook his head slowly, "Why would anyone want to hurt me? They don't even know I'm here."

She looked at him sharply, "How did you know that?"

"Because I listen to you," he replied mischievously.

"I never said...but anyway people might want to hurt you because, well, a long time ago two bad men who had powers like yours came to the land and hurt a lot of people. Now it is rumored that one of those men has returned. People are afraid that those who have extraordinary gifts like yours are following that bad man and want to hurt people too. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he began slowly, "but I don't want to hurt anyone."

"I know that Quatre, but there are those out there that don't know that. And Besides, you might hurt someone on accident, just like what happened with the window. That's why it isn't good to use your powers. You must promise me that you won't ever use your powers again unless it is an emergency. Promise?"

"Yes, I promise," he said as he let out a huge yawn.

"It's late, and you need to get to bed. Goodnight," she watched as he stood and walked wearily to his bedroom down the hall. The old woman felt slightly relieved. She knew that it was unlikely that he would disobey her after what she had said. Pertania sighed with relief and headed to her bedroom feeling every bit as tired as Quatre.