The Sea People
Large, well-formed humans, with bright red skin and bright blue hair, which they wear long and wild. They have a single eye in the centre of their foreheads - a sign of their oracular powers - and long, sharp teeth. They wear thick armour of mother of pearl, and fight with bolas, spears, nets, and hammers. They make their homes in tall, shimmering, white stone castles of great beauty, which rise above the foam of the sea, pale and luminescent, in the pink light of the dawn.
The Sea People drink nectar and eat honey, and, lacking nothing, spend their days in idleness when not at war. They play music, enjoy games of skill and chance, and compose poetry which is incomprehensible to outsiders. They are easily insulted, but also easily befriended.
Their faces are frightening in battle, but kind, virtuous, and smiling in friendship. The wise among them are very wise, and they live for a long time. They say that they have seen the future of the world, and, fearing it, taken the islands where they live out from the flow of time.
The islanders of the Lantern Berth tell stories about the Sea People, with whom they trade when the islands can be seen. Intermarriage is unheard in the present day, but there are old, old stories of courtships and even children. Those of unusually large stature born on the Lantern Berth are still called 'Westerners'.
The Flower of Life, the Fruit of the Invincible Heroes
On the furthest island, so far West that you find yourself walking not on solid earth but in dream, or nightmare, or the past and the future, or the world as it should have been, it is said that there is a flower of indescribable beauty, that grows above a pool that is still, cold, deep, green, dark, and utterly clear. To see this flower is to know tranquility and the end of striving. Each year, it weeps a single drop of golden nectar into the pool. If you can catch it and drink it, before it disappears forever into the shadowy green depths, your body will be made whole, and you will live as the immortals do.
On that same island, where only the virtuous may tread, there is a mountain of sheer rocks and precipices. It stretches up to heaven, and the gods sit at its crown, amusing themselves by sending down fortunes and sorrows like javelins. At the peak of the mountain is a pear tree that was there when the gods arrived. Its fruit are green like precious jewels, and the gods guard them jealously, but if a human is very lucky and very brave, they might be able to steal one. To eat the fruit is to be strong like a summer hurricane, terrible as the sea in anger, quick as time passing, clever, light-hearted, loved and crowned with victory.
The Serpents and their Poisons
On the Western Isles there are great serpents that swim in the sea, and that whisper poison into the ears of the unwary. Those that heed them grow sick and inward-looking, and shutter themselves indoors, counting their misfortunes until they die. The serpents sometimes walk about in the forms of people. They have a special fondness for wearing the faces of priests and magistrates, such that their poisonous words may spread further and do more harm. Those that live on the Western Isles will council you to stay polite with those who preach sermons, but to check theirs eyes, their tongues, their faces, and to know them well before you heed them.
Once in each generation, the populations of the Isles will lead a great pogrom against the serpents who walk like people. They say that they have a simple test, infallible, to pick out their quarries. It is a word, they say - a word that the humans tell their children, and that the serpents do not know and cannot pronounce. What is the word? Do not ask them - once and they will insult you as a dangerous fool; twice, and they will kill you and hang your body from a scaffold, for the rest to beat to pieces with sticks.
The King of the Isles
A man who wears a cloak of shimmering fish scales, and who travels the islands in a thin, proud boat that moves swiftly, without sail or oar. He carries royal weapons, a terrible, heavy mace, and a knife of bronze, wave-bladed, like the sea, and he commands loyalty from all the lesser kings and queens of this place. He rules in truth, where others claim to rule. He is mostly content to accept the hospitality of the island courts, but sometimes, when he is angered, he will demand a child from his hosts. None dare defy him - he is beloved by the sea, and holds within himself its awful strength.
What happens to the children none can say. It is said that you can see them sometimes, staring up at you from the water where the sea is deep and wide - thousands of their faces, of children who did not grow old, swimming up to see you, and catch a fleeting glimpse of the land of air and sun and sky that they were stolen from centuries ago. Some of them are armed as though for battle; some bears the marks of violence. All watch you, with an expression impossible to read, and then disappear back into the depths.
The king has a pleasant singing voice, and he loves to sing. You will hear him before you see him. Be polite, and grudge him not his royal share in your wealth.
The Observatory of the Apes
The apes of the Isles are not like the apes of the mainland - they do not live beneath the earth, or drink petrol, or dream of black stars and burning seas of iron. The apes of the isles are astronomers and philosophers, and they live in a walled city that they call University. They speak all languages, and collect texts on all topics from around the world in their great library. The largest building in University is the observatory, with its hundred telescopes, and its single Great Lens, which the apes say can look through time. It is not yet ready, but it soon will be - then the mysteries of the past and future will finally be laid bare.
In the meantime, the apes debate and practice rhetoric. They are beloved by the other islanders, and University is sacred, neutral ground, never to be disturbed or warred on. The apes themselves have a great fondness for fanciful dress and flowery language. The laws of University are strict - the only capital crime is to tell a lie. If you are found to have lied you will be stripped in court, beaten (to tenderise you), and eaten alive by your monkey judge and monkey jurors.
How to get there...
You can't, the islands don't exist. Or maybe they exist or certain days, or beneath certain stars. Those that live on the Lantern Berth will laugh at you for asking, and if you press them will tell you - it was possible once, but no longer. Those that try are never seen again, and the Western seas boil and smoke and writhe with monsters. Maybe, maybe, you might get there if you can see them when you set out. But to see the islands is a thing that happens only once in a lifetime, if that.
Give up on this idea, you will throw away your life, and the lives of your companions.
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