Curse of the Jackal: A legend

By Christopher Lake

Set in barbaric times, a young fisherman lives in peace on an island surrounded by warfare. At age 16, Elgin becomes a man but is soon faced with the brutality of ancient living. Innocence is swept away by violence, forcing two lovers to face life without each other. Surrounded by warring invaders, Elgin’s people must learn to fight or die.

Annon, the ascetic, is a disciplined spiritual seeker whose fate is intertwined with greater powers. Two lives are forced to experience the full range of human emotions and to rise above their circumstances. Shipwrecks, battles, and a spell-bound jackal navigate around a timeless love story between Elgin and Corina.

Elgin, with help from his wise teacher, must face his own demons while conquering his arch enemy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781638299882

Christopher Lake

Christopher Lake is an educator of 28 years and spent his formative years teaching English and History. He found an early passion for fiction in college, then enjoyed teaching middle and high school literature in public schools. His inspiration to write formed from the many impactful books that helped shape his adult life. In 2018, Chris decided to write on a regular basis to express his passion for literature.

Book preview

About the Author

Christopher Lake is an educator of 28 years and spent his formative years teaching English and History. He found an early passion for fiction in college, then enjoyed teaching middle and high school literature in public schools. His inspiration to write formed from the many impactful books that helped shape his adult life. In 2018, Chris decided to write on a regular basis to express his passion for literature.

Dedication

The soul can always heal itself. The challenge is to silence the mind.

– Caroline Myss

Copyright Information ©

Christopher Lake 2023

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Lake, Christopher

Curse of the Jackal

ISBN 9781638299875 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781638299882 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2023911184

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published 2023

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[e-mail]

[phone]

Chapter 1

Band of Seekers

--

Beyond the reaches of the northern continent, a group of spiritual seekers once traveled together to uncover life’s secrets. Their leader, Annon, withdrew his position in life, leaving his possessions behind. His wisdom grew as he traveled and learned from the forest, mountains, and villages. Self-denial and prayer guided his actions, and occasionally, a curious, like-minded seeker would join the mysterious traveler.

The bearded spiritual men, called ascetics, spent time alone, praying and meditating for long hours and fasting to the edge of starvation. Only the most disciplined could ever hope to reach a state of enlightenment. Most could not outlast the severe self-discipline, including starving and sitting with unmoving posture for days. In time, eight followers met Annon’s approval by outlasting his unrelenting pursuit.

Eventually, word traveled much faster than the spiritual band, and once near, each village gossiped and sounded alarm to their elders of the wandering men. Upon the ascetics’ arrival, some silently listened and pondered Annon’s strange words, while others vilified and condemned the strangers to the outskirts of their village walls.

On one occasion, dwellers along a mountainous divide attacked the tired group after the ascetics had long fasted in the forest. The evening before, Annon had visions of an eagle flapping its tired wings with nowhere to land. He awoke and understood there was knowledge extending far beyond his homeland. The forests and mountains taught him much, but something more – something unexplainable touched him through his dream.

In the morning’s early mist, Annon spoke calmly to his group, We have been to villages far and wide, and now we have been beaten and insulted. Our attackers know not what they do and cannot accept our truths. An omen appeared in my dreams, and now the stories of the elders make sense.

Strange stories of an island were mentioned to Annon throughout his travels, by only the oldest of elders from scattered villages. The omen and stories were enough reason for the ascetic to meditate on their curious rumors of magic and immortality. Since living in the forest, Annon often had visions that resonated in his soul after long bouts of prayer.

Annon paused but his inner voice whispered, Your self-denial and spiritual path have purpose. There is something larger…something more to unfold.

Annon steadily resumed speaking with a soft, low voice.

The mountains and forest have given us what we need thus far, but the voice of elders and an omen of an eagle signal a new path.

The men glanced at one another and crouched forward. Each word emanating from their leader’s mouth carried weight.

Annon’s wisdom exuded as his long black and gray hair rested on his shoulders.

We have been attacked, and your fresh wounds are your reward for fearless commitment. We will spend the day in rest and prayer.

The sun unveiled its daily routine, and the band of seekers sensed a change in their leader. The forest and the villages were no longer enough for Annon. The ascetic’s thoughts now rested in the world of dreams and omens. Evening time was presented as a quiet dinner, and no laughter and conversations were heard in the forest. After a long period of silence, the leader stood up to gaze upward at the distant horizon. He then sighed and walked away as he spotted an old oak. The leader carefully sat and saddled his legs in a folded customary position.

Rest well, Annon sharply spoke, and we will wake with the dawn.

The weary men, consoled but curious, rested as the fire drowned to darkened ash. The silhouette of their leader remained fixed under the moonlight.

Annon, wanderer of the forest and mountains, reflected on his life.

Once he was a son and a brother. Then he was a young man who once experienced love. He witnessed the perils of battle and saw the true ignorance of man. Finally, he found prayer and discovered that joy and sorrow were the same. One day, Annon disappeared from his village without explanation. His villagers concluded he must have been dragged away by a wild beast while alone in the forest.

The fire’s pre-dawn embers finally eroded to nothingness. Annon stared at the black pit as his thoughts faded.

Nothingness.

The ascetic slowly inhaled and closed his eyes. Annon’s followers did not understand their leader was ready to sacrifice everything in pursuit of their new adventure.

--

Carrying bare necessities, the band of seekers rose with the sun and headed with a new purpose, determined to find the sea. With only days between them, the northerly travelers breached their last mountainous divide, and the soft-colored sea lay before them.

Joebin, Annon’s closest guide, understood the land like a mother understands her child. Annon was quietly impressed with his friend’s simple wisdom and his dedication to prayer. The others knew Annon and Joebin’s spiritual bond was beyond words and filled them with a quiet, jealous inspiration.

As Joebin forced his way through a clearing of long grass, there appeared a village, affixed between miles of golden wheat. The comforting sound of distant waves eased the men and filled them with a sense of awe. Only Joebin experienced the sea in his youth, but the rest walked toward the noise in quick anticipation.

The sea-faring people bustled about the shore in a small village-port named Corletus. Scores of fish were hurdled into creaky carts; sea life was transported either to fat barrels of ice, or to market. Saddled boats expressed adventure, and tanned men joked as they shared stories of their favorite exploits. A young boy ran along a row of bouncing sterns, dragging a stick, making a repetitive noise.

The band of seekers sat outside the gates, guessing their surprise arrival might draw fear with the locals. Annon walked along the busy shoreline and felt sand for the first time. Hours later, he returned with his arms full of fish and remnants of bread, wrapped in worn cloth.

I have found a man that knows of a distant northern island that instills fear with all villagers, Annon quietly spoke. Steep craggy cliffs along its coast and unexplainable currents keep even the most daring sailor at bay.

The island is named Insloden.

The ascetic pointed beyond the horizon.

The natives are rumored as blood-thirsty and evil – with fair skin but dark eyes. Few sailors from coastal villages have attempted the currents, let alone considered what they may face if they survive the sea.

Annon only spoke when necessary, so his words created fearful silence with the seven men.

Let’s build fire and eat, Annon concluded. I will sit below the stars until I have an answer to how we will reach this island.

Joebin exchanged a nervous glance.

Wise one, why do you choose this as our path?

Annon returned, I have known from the day I relinquished everything dear to my heart that I will meet a fate that is glorious but dreadful. The island embodies my fate, this I know, and you all must decide tonight whether to continue what lies before us.

Joebin looked away from Annon to the others, but the group only stared back, absorbing their leader’s words.

You very well may end up as a water-bloated corpse on an unfamiliar beach, or better yet, an exotic dish for a fair-skinned cannibal, Annon continued with a half-smile.

Go pray amongst yourselves – until your answer speaks to you as it has spoken to me.

The next morning, Annon had not moved from his spot in soft grass. The tired men waited with patience until their leader finally awoke from his deep trance.

Finally, Annon turned toward the group, and Joebin spoke on behalf of the group.

Your fate is our fate, your life is our life, your death is our death. We are ready to cross the sea.

Annon sighed and hugged his companions. His life’s work had detached him from everything in life, except these seven men. The ascetic masked his sadness as he quietly pondered if they would escape his fate. Annon motioned them to face the sea, and in morning’s light, they stared at an unfamiliar horizon while their leader told them of his plan.

--

The coastline and its neighboring woods provided everything needed for Annon’s men. It was midsummer and the daylight provided its longest mark of the year. The village accepted their new guests, but Annon insisted they sleep in the forest and enter the gates only when in need. Wild apple trees, root vegetables, and sea life provided them a sound diet.

The band of seekers had long survived the challenges normally found in the forest. A shelter of trees and leaves was built next to a stream that provided reasonably fresh water, and with camp set along a steep ravine, the evening’s fire shielded the random, coastal piercing winds. The men looked forward to sunset as it was the only time of day the disciplined men could forget their serious demeanor and instead share stories and laugh by the warm fire.

Weeks passed since the band of seekers came to the northern seaport. Annon slowly earned the trust of the village elders and convinced them to allow his men to work in the varied surrounding fields. In return, villagers offered Annon a large, retired sea boat that needed much work. Tools were loaned for cutting wood and Annon could work along carpenters and learn their craft in hopes of repairing the worn and tired seacraft.

One day, while carrying wood, Annon met Micah, a sea-fairing sojourner. The two men made time for one another each day as neither had a place to call home. Micah shared stories from the sea, helped Annon with his tasks, and provided good company. The seaman learned of Annon’s plan and asked to join the crew. Annon knew from their first encounter that Micah was part of his journey. He gladly accepted and the two endlessly talked about troubling currents surrounding this mysterious island named Insloden.

The final days of summer hinted it was time to act. The band carefully packed the restored boat with just enough provisions. Annon and Micah, confident from much advice from villagers, plotted the weather and currents for their northern trek. A crew with only one experienced sailor would be sea-bound for weeks. Their large boat had sturdy sails and Micah explained the voyage to his crew. To avoid troublesome waters, the boat would arc to the west, and he explained a south-easterly stream could guide them to the western shore of the massive island. There was much room for error, but Annon and the rest agreed this was their best chance for survival.

Annon stood on the boat’s creaky prow as Corletus grew smaller and smaller in its wake. He knew the lives of his men were tethered to his decision to journey to an unknown place. If a storm arose, or if predicted currents weren’t accurate, the crew would perish and add to a graveyard that littered the ocean floor.

The ascetic reflected as he stared into a suspecting horizon. Annon taught ideas that separated his men from most others. He wanted each of them to find their own vision of truth, but each of their experiences showed that spiritual atonement could not be achieved without extreme measures.

Who could have guessed, Annon thought, my prayers and meditation would lead us to a village named Corletus? And now we sail to an island filled with purpose but shrouded in mystery.

Annon couldn’t guarantee the safety of his men, yet all willfully followed him into the jaws of hell. He felt a sense of pride, turning to face the crew, but his sadness pervaded. His visions and dreams didn’t include everyone in the boat. That would be impossible. Annon knew only a few men could outlast the vague challenge that he felt but could not see.

With hair both dark and gray, and his beard swaying like the waves, Annon sat against the mast after conceding orders to Micah. His men adjusted to their new occupation as seamen, and each knew their roles. Micah was their captain and proudly shouted orders. He was the happiest of all – the sea was his true home. Fully unleashed, the sails flapped to make their music with the waves, and loose provisions on board vibrated to what became a slow mounting crescendo.

--

After increasing wind, clouds drew dark on the sixth day and the smell of rain alerted Micah to warn the men.

Be ready to draw your sails and secure supplies to the hull! he barked nervously.

Annon gripped a rope and wound it around his wrist as he stared at Micah. What lurks ahead, friend?

The captain replied, I don’t like the wind. And the waves – I have not seen this before. The sky!

Annon heard enough.

Rain split the night into two and each increasing wave mounted unsteady fear. Raging currents swirled about and breakers brushed across the vessel threatening to sweep men into the sea. The fates turned into rage by shattering the wood hull, and the starboard’s protection ebbed away with each crashing wave.

The mast broke and crushed two crewmen, leaving them in bloody shock. It was here that Micah shouted orders to throw supplies overboard and to cut the anchors. He knew each pound of weight spelled death and didn’t speak about their slim chance for survival. Enough food and water remained for a final meal, but even that would escape them.

Annon was aware the captain was looking at him but did not turn his head. Stay close to me, Micah. This is not the end of my journey and tell Joebin to draw near with ropes and both of you tie yourselves to the stern.

Annon’s beard and hair blew in the swirling wind. His posture was steady, and Micah felt he was staring at an ancient god. The captain had more wisdom of the sea, but Annon’s order felt prophetic. Annon prayed for his men who huddled against wood. Each wave swallowed more of the sky and the rhythmic vertical tilt made it impossible to hang on.

Finally, it was nature’s decision to release any unspent fury. Micah never saw a wave such as this and briefly understood how legions of dead seamen met their fate with one final blow. It was the last moment the band of seekers were together. The awesome wave both hurled the boat toward the watery trough, then crashed down upon a splitting vessel. Wood, provisions, and men disappeared into the sea and only remnants found their way to morning light.

--

Grays skies remained for days and then the sun broke. The moment of Annon’s consciousness was unclear, but once alert, he could feel his lacerated face. Also, painful breathing revealed broken ribs. A noticeable cut seared from the corner of his left eye to his earlobe as the seawater caused an uncomfortable burning sensation. He clutched what may have been remains of the stern – he was not sure.

Running blood from his face created a discolored surface on the water, reminding Annon to keep a cautious alert for sea predators.

Remember, his trembling lips whispered.

Micah and the villagers had talked much about survival at sea. Removing his torn shirt, Annon placed it on the meager wooden platform, folding cloth into a makeshift bowl to collect rainwater. Two more days passed and only a light rain gave Annon enough water to stay alive. The challenge of survival was unbearable, even to an ascetic who could master great feats of self-discipline.

Annon searched to remember his lessons of wisdom – born from many years of spiritual discipline.

Pain was illusory.

He breathed slow breaths and remembered, long ago, days in the forest where he felt barely alive after self-inflicted denial. It was there, in the forest, he discovered his only chance to move beyond the sensory world was to release from all attachments, however big or small.

Once he meditated within a thorny hedge for many days, learning to cease all function – save the long breaths that grew further and further apart. It was then, in the forest, that ‘Annon’ ceased to be and became one with the great void that included the heavens, earth, and sky. His trance was only broken by a bewildered hunter days later who thought he had saved a bloody wanderer from the grips of death.

Annon continued with long breaths. Each one slow and deep.

He became one with the ocean.

Inhale.

Even now, Annon knew it was not his time to die. In the far distance, he saw something…moving.

Exhale.

--

Looming across Annon’s peril at sea, there waited, a shrouded island, veiling itself against the rest of the world.

Insloden!

What lay ahead was an isolated island possessing a brutal people. The villages of Insloden wouldn’t allow anyone of unfortunate circumstances to live among them. The sick or afflicted were considered outcasts and their conditions were believed to be a result of some moral consequence. Along the western shores, a colony of lepers lived among the many coastal caves, and the other banned outcasts, including criminals, found refuge in their settlement. Together, they became the shadow people of the caves. Whether disease or an unforgivable past, the colony was ignored, and if its unwanted citizens were seen within any of the village gates, they would surely meet an easy death. Those who were banished would disappear and fend for themselves. Such was the rule of law on Insloden.

One morning, a young boy set traps along the rocks, then peered over to a thin beach head. Full of surprise, he saw what looked to be two bodies lying on the sea-drenched sand. He ran toward the unsightly surprise and stopped just in time to hunch directly over his findings. Lying motionless, and amidst rope and wood, there lay strange trespassers whose blood stained the sand to a dark crimson. He quickly ran back to the cavern to alert his elder of the castaways.

The day turned to unordinary events. The two strangers, soon to be known as Micah and Joebin, were carried to a cave while others from the colony moved along the narrow stretch of sand and rock, searching for more potential survivors of the sea. The castaways’ leader, Annon, was finally found between enclosed rocks. Awake, but delirious, the ascetic attempted to hide from the unknown natives, but he couldn’t conceal his own tracks enough to fool the