Despite it being a cool night, Duglin’s shirt was soaked with sweat as the witch hunter’s unnerving cat like eyes bored into his. The boy could feel his heart pound in his chest feeling like a cornered rat as the bald man approached him. The boy backed away until he felt the gunwale against his back and looked over the prow where Fultern was sitting motionlessly.
Cornered, Duglin could do little as the witch hunter bent down to sniff the air around his neck. “Yes, her stench is all over you.”
Andar straightened himself and towering over the boy, spoke imperiously. “What spell did she cast on you? A fortification spell? A bewitching spell?”
The boy’s hand pulled his shirt tighter around his chest as he shook his head vehemently. “No, sir…”
The witch hunter’s voice suddenly turned soft. “You needn’t be afraid. You’re the victim here, and if she has bewitched you, I can help. No blame will be placed on you, I can assure you of that. However, that is, only if you tell me what she has done.”
Despite his instincts screaming that he couldn’t trust the witch hunter, Duglin felt himself waver. Perhaps if he just showed the man instead of telling. He took his hand off his chest and slowly began to lift his shirt.
“I thought we agreed that you were not to interact with my crew.”
Duglin quickly lowered his shirt and escaped from his corner as Firch stepped onto the quarterdeck. The Captain’s eyes were red rimmed but alert, and he had a hand on each of his weapons.
“Ah, Captain,” Andar said smoothly. “Good evening. I thought you had forgotten about our daily ritual.”
“I had other things to attend to,” Firch said evenly. “I’m sure you can understand.”
“Of course, Captain,” Andar smiled.
“It looked like you were in the middle of accusing my crewman of something,” Firch said coolly.
Andar shook his head. “I wasn’t accusing him of anything. However, he was unattended with a witch. I needed to see if…”
“They weren’t alone,” Firch interrupted brusquely. “There was another, and they were out of our sight for but a few minutes.”
“That’s all it takes for one of these to plant seeds of evil, I’m afraid,” Andar remarked as he tugged on Kerma’s chain violently. “These seeds grow quickly into destructive things if not quickly uprooted.”
“My crew is not so easily corrupted,” Firch said. “There will be no inquisition on my ship. Is that clear?”
The witch hunter held the Captain’s gaze for a moment before nodding. “It is against my better judgement, but this is your ship, Captain.”
“Now that we have an understanding, I’m afraid it’s a little late for your evening stroll going to have to ask you to return to your cabin,” Firch said. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
“That’s fair, Captain,” Andar said. “Come along, now.”
Duglin felt his temper flare as the witch hunter roughly dragged Kerma down the stairs by the chain. The Captain put a hand on his shoulder, and the boy realized he had been clenching his fists.
“Don’t get attached to her,” he warned. “Her fate is not something we can interfere with.”
Duglin wanted to protest but thought better of it when he saw the look in his Captain’s eye. When they heard the door to his cabin close, the Captain’s shoulders sagged, and he looked like he aged ten years.
“Evening gents,” Inder called as he climbed out onto the deck. He joined them on the quarterdeck and lowered his voice. “He’s going to be trouble, isn’t he?”
“We are going to have to be very careful when we drop him off in Darvigan,” Firch agreed.
“What makes you say that?” Duglin wondered.
Inder smirked. “Witch hunters are dogged bastards. There’s no way he’s dropping the matter so easily.”
“You had best keep your distance from him while he’s on board, Duglin,” Firch warned.
Inder nodded thoughtfully before clamping a meaty hand on the Captain’s shoulder. “You look shattered lad. Go below and get some sleep. I can help the boy keep an eye on things until the next watch. The Vesper needs her Captain in peak condition for what is to come.”
Firch nodded and turned to Duglin. “Next time he comes out from his room without permission, you ring the ship’s bell, wake the entire ship. Do you understand?”
Duglin bobbed his head, and the Captain walked away. Instead of going below decks, he fell into the pilot’s seat and wrapped a blanket around himself. After consulting the binnacle for their heading, he was fast asleep.
“I’m surprised,” Duglin murmured as he watched the Captain sleep.
“What by?” Inder asked.
“Now that I think about it, no one on the crew seemed interested in what happened when Marsel and I were alone with the witch,” Duglin replied.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Inder rubbed the back of his head and shrugged. “Well, according to the superstitions, it’s best not to ask too many questions about a witch’s affairs.”
“The Captain doesn’t strike me as the superstitious sort,” Duglin pointed out. “And he hasn’t asked me a thing about what happened.”
A crooked smile spread across the first mate’s face. “I’ve known the Captain for oh, going on eight years now and I still don’t know what that boy is thinking most of the time, but I do know one thing.”
“What’s that, sir?” Duglin ventured.
Inder looked over at the Captain before replying. “If he ever does ask, you had best tell him the whole truth.”
It was just before dawn when the faint smell of rotting eggs permeated the air. Duglin sat bolt upright and sniffed the air before looking over at Firch, who was still fast asleep in the pilot’s chair.
“What is it, boy?” Inder asked. The first mate was relieving himself through one of the scuppers and shook himself dry before returning to the quarterdeck.
“Do you smell that?” he asked. “I think some of the stores might have gone bad.”
“No, that isn’t it,” Elran said as he emerged from below decks. “That is the smell of sulphur.”
“What’s that?” Duglin asked.
“Brimstone I believe is what it’s more commonly known as over here,” the doctor replied.
“That’s all well and good, but where is it coming from?” Inder asked.
“It’s my first time in these waters,” Elran said as he peered out into the predawn gloom. “But if I were to hazard a guess, it’s from a volcano. That at least would explain the beacons mentioned in Master Dernish’s charts. My sister has been tearing her hair out over them all night.”
Duglin gave the doctor a blank look. “Volcano?”
“Fire mountains, boy,” Inder said. “I didn’t think there were any in these seas. We saw one erupt on our… Well, I’ve seen one erupt. I thought the world was ending.”
“They are common enough in my homeland,” Elran said. “Living in one’s shadow makes one relish life more.”
“I can imagine,” Inder grunted. “At any rate, the smell means we’re getting closer to the Murkwater.”
“Well, that explains the dream I had.”
Duglin turned to see that the Captain’s eyes were opened. He checked their bearings before slowly climbing out of the pilot’s chair.
“At least that proves we’re on course,” he mused. “Mister Inder, have you had any sleep at all?”
“No, I had second watch and it’s just about to end, Captain,” he announced.
“Well, get below decks and sleep for at least a watch.”
“Aye, Captain,” Inder said as he headed below decks. “Just didn’t think the boy should be alone for his watch now that our passenger has his eye on him.”
“A wise decision.”
More of the ship’s crew began to gather above decks as the sun’s first rays crept above the horizon, woken by force of habit as much as the growing stench. In the growing light, Duglin noticed for the first time that the sea had taken on a slightly milky green colour.
“I can see why they call it the Murkwater,” Raimala remarked.
“Perhaps we should summon our passenger,” Bardrick said sourly as he sniffed the air. “There is witchery afoot.”
“There’s no witchery,” Firch said before Duglin could protest. “This is just a sign that we’re where we’re supposed to be.”
“Navigating using active volcanos,” Raimala remarked from the helm. “This will be a novel experience.”
“What makes you think they’re active, pilot?” Firch asked.
“Based on their descriptions, Skip,” she replied.
As the light grew, the crew became aware of the mist that now lingered above the sea’s surface. Duglin ran his finger over a gunwale and saw that a thin film of dust had gathered.
“It’s volcanic ash,” Elran said. “There’s going to be a lot of swabbing of decks.”
“And everything else,” Firch said. “Batten down the hatches, tell everyone to close them behind them if they’re going between decks.”
“Aye, Captain,” Bardrick frowned. “It’s going to get stuffy below decks…”
“We will be counting that as a blessing before long,” Firch replied.
“Land off to port!” Fultern cried. “An island about a mile out.”
“I can’t see anything,” Duglin said as he peered into the hazy morning.
“Neither can I,” Firch remarked as he lowered his spyglass. “But if Fultern says it’s there, then it is… Pilot?”
“It has to be Thilbury, Skip,” she replied after consulting her charts. “Nothing else out here, but that puts us thirty leagues further west than I anticipated.”
“That is welcome news,” Firch breathed as he eyed the sails. “We need to get the sails mended so that we can squeeze a bit more speed out of her.”
“Reckon we’re still behind them, Captain?” Bardrick ventured.
Firch nodded as he looked off the port bow. “Unless they went to Thilbury first.”
The Captain paused thoughtfully before addressing his crew. “I did make a promise. Does anyone want to get off there? It is but an hour out of our way.”
“Not me, Captain, I’m with you until the bitter end,” Bardrick said. “Of this little adventure, at any rate.”
The others nodded in silent agreement, and the Captain shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn the lot of you.”
The mist grew thicker, and with it, the stench of rotten eggs. It also grew humid and warmer as the day went on. Soon, visibility was limited to a few hundred yards.
“Well, Skip, it’s safe to say that celestial navigation is now impossible,” Raimala remarked, sounding more than a little worried.
“Well, I hope you’ve got your bearings right, then,” Firch remarked. “I want speed and bearings taken every quarter of an hour.”
Inder, who had woken up at around noon, nodded. “Aye, Captain.”
“And station someone in the crow’s nest at all times,” Firch ordered.
Inder glanced at Marsel, who was seated on the deck, using the canvas they had picked up at Jerning to mend the mainsail. He then growled. “Boy, get up into the crow’s nest. Look to the sky for anything resembling a beacon.”
“Aye sir,” Duglin’s sentence was punctuated by a fit of coughing triggered by the stench of rotten eggs.
“Skip, I have to admit, I’m terrified of navigating using dead reckoning,” Raimala remarked.
“Don’t go losing your nerve now, pilot,” Inder warned.
It took around four hours for the red glowing hue to appear on the horizon. Initially, Duglin thought it was the setting sun until he realized sunset wasn’t for another three hours.
“I think that’s the beacon two points off our port bow!” he cried.
“Two points,” Raimala breathed as she broke out into a cold sweat. “We were supposed to be dead on.”
“Figure out your mistake and don’t let it happen again,” Firch warned before turning to Tash. “Helm, two points to port.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Inder breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s the first challenge overcome.”
“It only gets harder from here,” Firch warned. “Pilot, you had better get your act together.”
“I’ll try, Skip,” Raimala said bitterly.
It was another hour before Duglin could see the volcano through the mist. It seemed to have sprouted out of the sea and belched thick smoke into the air. Rivers of red hot magma bubbled from the peak and oozed down its sheer sides to the small island that had formed around the volcano’s knees before turning into black slag when it touched the sea.
“Reef ahead!” Fultern warned from the prow.
“Hard to port!” Raimala cried. “Lower the sails.”
The Vesper soon came to a rest just under two hundred yards from the reef. Firch observed the feathered white tops in the milky green sea through his spyglass and grunted. “It looks like an atoll. We’re at the first ‘beacon.’
Meanwhile, Raimala frowned as she scanned the horizon. At length, she called up to the crow’s nest. “Duglin, do you see another beacon?”
“No, Pilot!” came the reply.
“I don’t understand,” she breathed as the colour drained from her face. “We’re supposed to be able to see the second beacon from here.”
“What do we do now?” Inder demanded.
“I don’t know.”