Beams of sunlight hit the boys face, he had a frightening dream of fire, blood and, but now as warm sunlight hit his face and his body was warm beneath the blanket he felt content.

But as he opened his eyes, an icy gauntleted fist hit his stomach as he realized it was no dream.

He was still in the tent, his back resting against the canvas wall and a wooden pole, the movement of the room told him he was at sea, his family was dead, his brothers were dead, his mother and father, most of all his sister was dead, not one person left to protect or love him.

Again he froze for he didn't dare to move and the sunlight and animal skin covering him became his prison as cold sweat started running all over his petrified body, slicing his skin like cold razors.

His ears pricked up and he heard creaks outside the room.

Frightening thoughts raced through his mind.

One of the horned warriors had to come in any minute now, they would barge in to throw him over board, in an endless sea with no cost in sight, for the sharks and beasts of the deep to strip him of his flesh or was the boy their slave now?

A man without rights, to be sold at the next harbor? A whip was hanging from one of tents poles, was the boy to feel its bite, turning his back into crimson strips of flesh before he was to be killed for the murder of their brother in arms?

There was an itch but he didn't dare scratch it, for he feared to move the skin, as it might attract the men outside.

Maybe if he was quite enough, they would forget him. He wished the bold warrior would just come in and strike him down, to end his torture.

Death had an appeal by now, he couldn't even stand up, get out and let them kill him, for there was something in his mind, a fear that there was something else they would do something worse then death, he didn't know what it was it was nothing but vague feeling, but it scared him even more then the mercy of death.

He imagined them just standing there, looking at him, nothing more and somehow he felt this would be worse then being struck down by a blade.

This way he spend almost three hours, although these mere three hours, from his perception, stretched into eternity.

One time he dared to scratch his nose, another he scratched his knee, but the scratch returned worse so he decided not to scratch again, even though the unscratched itch began to sting and tingle in weird ways.

Finally the tent door opened and the bold warrior entered, the boy was so surprised he didn't jump up and took a dignified seat on the bed as he planned, but instead just watched the bold man sit down on a foot rest opposite him.

"Stand up boy." the bold man commanded.

The boy followed suit and arose.

"You have killed one of us. Death would be a fitting punishment for such a crime."

The boy answered only with a stare, while his mind raced, he was not about to kill him, if he wanted to kill him, he would have dragged him out and done it already.

So what did he want?

It must have something to do with the scarred warrior he killed last the night.

The bold warrior and scarred one did seem to hate each other, maybe they fought over power among their people. Because of the short time the boy stuck with his first hasty conclusion and decided to move forward.

"Do you have any idea why you are still alive?" the bold man asked just as the had made up his mind.

"Because I killed your enemy." the boy replied as steadfast as he could manage.

The bold warriors eyes widened, he smiled approvingly.

"So the little murderer isn't an idiot then? There is truth to what you say, but to be honest. What you have done is actually more trouble to me then it was worth. The people of the man you killed want you dead and that could be a problem."

The boy knew he had to say the right thing now, his fate depended on it, he mustered up all his bravery to sound as strong and sure of himself as he could.

"No they won't! He was important, and they won't go against you without his prompting."

The bold warrior seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Well and he is bold, too. You have a good instinct boy, but your only half right. You being alive will be trouble for me. Still, I think there is worth to you. You're one of us now. Come on deck when you are ready boy."

With this he just stood up and left the tent.

As the door closed the boy slumped down on the bed, he didn't know if his situation was better or worse then death.

He felt alone, naked, unprotected from what ever laid outside the cabin door.

Hot tears ran across his cheeks, he pulled his legs tight towards his body and rolled into a ball.

The tears ran freely, he didn't even think about it, he felt so alone, remote, he thought of his mother and he knew her arms would never wrap around him again.

He just wanted to feel her warmth once more as she held him tight, he thought of his little sister and her clear blue eyes smiling at him, he now could never be the good brother he wanted to be for her and he though of his last moment with her, when she wanted to hug him, but he ran and he almost screamed as thought that would never return her love and she had died without ever knowing why he ran that day.

He set his teeth and screamed inside himself.

For a while he just lay there the tears had dried on his cheeks, and he had to rub them from his cheeks, for they were dried.

After that he stood in front of the door, thinking of the things outside, what could happen and how he should approach.

A few times he lifted his hand, but couldn't do it. His head was full of things to say, replies to questions and challenges, and several times he couldn't find the answers.

His thoughts began to spin, he realized there was no way he could be prepared for what was to come.

So he took all his bravery and just walked through the tent door.

At first he was confused as he stepped outside, he saw the warriors all over the boat, but he had only seen them in combat covered in black leather armor with the helms menacing horns protruding from their heads, but now they just sat there in knee long linen skirts, going about their daily business.

Some mended broken nets, others were working on broken scale armor, a few were fishing on the left side of the ship, and another group sat there talked, some of them took notice of him and passed him curious glance.

The boy didn't really know what to do or say, so he just walked on, some of the men follow him with their eyes, some just continued their work.

There was much going on in the boys head, but all he could do was just walk on until there was nothing left to walk to, so he sat down at the front of the boat and looked at the sea.

His feet hanging over the ships bow he just sat there, not talking to anyone just listening.

He was still scared and every minute he sat there, the situation became more awkward, he lost his will to stand up and talk to the people.

Hours passed as he saw the suns disk roll over the sky, sometimes people tried to talk to him but he was to scared to engage them, answering only with one two words.

As the sky turned purple and the suns disk rolled down into into the sea, the boy knew he had to engage the people, for his hunger had become unbearable.

When his resistance to hunger finally ran thinnest, he stood up and walked over to the men who gathered around a pot in which they prepared the evenings meal, a mouth watering smell escape from the pot, fish soup, the famished boys nose could tell.

He regretted declining earlier as one of the warriors asked him to join, but now his hunger gotten the better of him.

"May I have some of the soup." he timidly asked.

"Only our people can eat this soup, are you one of us?" the bold warrior asked, as he withheld the steaming bowl of soup.

"Yes" the boy cautiously answered.

"Then how come I don't know your name boy? Mine is Pataran."

He had a name but it was gone now together with his family and so he decided to take a new one for his new life with his new family.

"My name is Apollas."