“In that regard it doesn’t, does it?” Head listing, she brushed the hair from Phin’s eyes. “Captain Harwood seemed to consider the idea. Testing their resolve, he asked if they would give any protest to me becoming entertainment for the crew. They voiced no objections. Feeding off the weakness of their character, he asked if they would like to watch as his men shredded me to ribbons. The lot of them looked away, too ashamed to meet his eyes. The final degradation was to inquire if they would voice a complaint to me being hung from the mast and quartered, bathing them all in my blood and entrails. A few whimpers were the only protest offered. Evaluation of their valor complete, Captain ordered his men to claim the ship’s booty then sink her to the depths. When he turned my way, I convulsed with terror, so sure was I that my death sentence was about to be uttered. To my surprise—and the crew’s horror—he said that since they were willing to decide my fate, it was only fair I be allowed to reciprocate. Voice devoid of emotion, he asked who among them I chose to spare.”
“What did you do?” Needing a moment to find my voice, the words came out in a breathless whisper.
Pushing off the floor, Malyn walked to the fire and lost herself in its crackling embers. “I looked out over their sea of faces, searching for a morsel of good among them. There was Samuel, who snuck me an extra biscuit each night. Then went on to crack my rib when his friends goaded him into challenging me. Seemingly compassionate Martin said he would guard the door to the infirmary, and allow me to sleep. He later crept in during the wee hours of morning to try and take liberties with my battered body. Should I have shown mercy to William, who actually came to my defense once and said I owed him something for it later? In the end, I uttered one word. None,” she confessed to the flames. “There were no survivors. That was the first time I watched the crocodile appear. He ravaged The Enforcer and left none standing. Their shrieks still haunt my nightmares. When the last body fell, he stalked back onto the Jolly Roger with gore tripping from his fangs. Pausing beside me, his panted breath reeked of death. He could have killed me like all the others. I still question why he didn’t. Instead, he loomed beside me, wordlessly watching the ocean swallow the once proud Enforcer.” Slowly turning our way, Malyn rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, fighting off the chill of her sordid revelation. “I’ve been a grateful member of his crew ever since. You should know, the transformation wreaks havoc on his body. He has aged decades in the five years I’ve served under him. I do all I can to prevent his change; seeking to control and maintain all elements of Marooner’s Rock. Ours is an island of nothing. Even the weather is a testimony of neutrality. All of that changed when the three of you appeared. Whatever business you have here is of no concern of mine. My sole focus is to keep the monster at bay, and my captain safe.”
“Monster. What does such a word mean?” Dropping from the ceiling, Sterling melted from the rafters. Mid-fall, he flipped in the air and landed gracefully on his feet. “If one is deemed a monster, isn’t any act they commit considered a monstrous one? Simply by being, they are a monster behaving monstrously. As a loon acts looney, or a duck acts … ducky. It is their very nature. Who they are. Not wrong. Not right. Not good, nor bad. Connotations to the contrary are based purely on critical judgments.”
“Someone interject something,” I requested, lips falling into a mock frown, “because that actually made sense to me, and that’s terrifying.”
Bristling, my quip bounced off Malyn’s indignant front. She swiveled to face Sterling, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. “What is it you’re implying, sir?”
“I imply nothing.” He shrugged. “You call the thing within him a monster. As it is a faction of your captain, that would make your captain a monster as well. By definition then, every act he commits would be considered monstrous. It seems to me he would be a tough fellow to trust.”
Malyn stalked a circle around him, glaring him down with predatory intent. “We all have some sort of monster within us. Greed. Longing. Rage. Do you deny the daily fight we all endure not to give in to the dark voice whispering in our minds, tempting us to lose ourselves in unthinkable atrocities?”
“I would never,” Sterling simply stated, unruffled by her aggression.
She planted her feet in a wide-legged stance and jammed her hands onto her hips. “While the captain’s darkness manifests for all to see, it doesn’t make the beast in each of us any less real.”
Raising his hand in front of him, Sterling watched with mesmerized interest as his fingers rolled and twisted one way and then the other. “Well and true. How can we trust anyone … or, ourselves?”
Malyn filled her lungs to capacity, and exhaled through pursed lips in effort to maintain her slipping composure. “I trust the captain, because without him I would be dead.” Marching to the door, she threw a glance back over her shoulder. “Perhaps you’ll think him less the dastardly villain when you learn he has granted you access to the mirror.”
Hands on his knees, Sterling crouched down beside Phin to whisper, “Did I call him such a thing? I don’t remember using those words at all. Then again, I seldom listen to my own yammerings.”
A threatening laugh pinkened Phin’s cheeks, pulling at the corners of his lips. Wisely, he suppressed it.
Hand on the door frame, Malyn drummed her fingers against the weathered wood. “The captain is resting now. The change exhausts him. When he rises, you shall go before him to investigate the artifact under supervision.”
“And after we have viewed the mirror?” I ventured.
Tipping her chin, she peered my way with an icy indifference that prickled through me. “After, Captain Harwood will determine if you live or die.”
Chapter Seventeen
The fire had died down. Moonlight glistened through the glassless windows, bathing the shanty in a silver glow. Silently staring at the smoldering embers within the hearth, our trio perked at the crunch of heavy footfalls approaching. Glancing to the door, we found Potchis swaying there. Cradled in his hands, he toted what appeared to be a homemade teddy bear comprised of mismatched fabrics and loosely strung button-eyes.
“For the boy.” He extended the offering in Phin’s direction. “A lad needs something to hold onto, especially when there’s no one to hold him.”
Phin’s eyes, heavy with sleep, brightened at the sight of the toy. Dragging himself to his feet, he scuffed across the creaking floorboards to collect it. “Thank you,” he murmured, squeezing it tight to his chest.
A curt nod was as close to a response as Potchis offered. Frame filling the doorway, the giant I was coming to see as the gentle sort shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “All must come. The captain awaits.”
Hopping to his feet, Sterling shook off sleep’s hold with an aggressive shudder. “I do hope he lets us keep our heads. I’ve grown rather attached to mine.”
Oblivious to how he frightened the child, causing Phin to clutch his toy tighter still, Sterling strode out the door without glancing back to see if the rest of us were following.
Having to step into the shanty to allow Sterling passage, Potchis ducked his head to catch Phin’s apprehensive stare. “Stay by me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Phin reached out and closed his fist around two of Potchis’ fingers, trusting the towering chap to lead him out.
Trailing the odd pair, I was struck by the lengths Potchis was going to for the safety and security of a child he barely knew.
“Potchis,” I ventured, a gentle night breeze causing rogue strands of hair to lash at my cheeks, “are you happy here, serving your captain?”
Head bobbing, his hunched stature didn’t break stride. “Potchis is part of the crew, he is.”
“That’s not much of an answer,” Phin pointed out, the lilt of his voice an angel’s song compared to Potchis’ thunderous boom.
For a moment Potchis let his gaze travel to the tree line at the edge of camp, something that resembled longing cut deep creases between his brows. “Potchi
s leaving was never a question. Being part of the crew … was.”
Maybe I saw in him the part of myself that longed for freedom, and home. Maybe I was a dog with a bone that didn’t know when to let go. Unsure of my own motivation, I dug in further. “But if it was? What if you were given the choice to leave a free man, or stay? What would you choose?”
Steps faltering, Potchis’ head whipped in one direction then the other, scanning the landscape as if worried someone was listening. “Part of the crew,” he stated again, with a stern conviction that rang false.
Solidifying from the darkness in a chilling shimmer, Sterling offered Potchis a wide, manic smile. His eyes glowing orbs that haunted the night. “Every adventure requires a first step. You simply must choose which is yours.”
Potchis pulled back, yanking Phin along with him in panicked retreat.
Lunging forward, I clapped a comforting hand on Potchis’ tree trunk of a forearm. “He means no harm!” I soothed. Desperate to calm the spiraling situation, I beseeched the lonely child that lived in the depths of the giant’s stare. “He’s been alone, and dejected. Same as you.”
“I have?” Sterling’s nose crinkled. “What a miserable existence.”
“My point,” hushing Sterling with a glare, I turned a friendly smile in Potchis’ direction, “is that while our crew isn’t much, you’re welcome to join us.”
“Look out for the boy? Keep him safe?” The possibility twinkling in his irises was quickly snuffed out with a glance in the direction of the Jolly Roger and its waiting captain. Shoulders sagging, Potchis’ broad face folded into a frown. White wisps of hair falling into his eyes, he shook his head. “Part of the crew, he is. Never leaving this never-land.”
“Of course, I meant no disrespect.”
If he heard me at all, Potchis hid it well. Stillness washed over him, leaving nothing behind short of an empty shell of acceptance. Peering my way with eyes as vacant as the teddy bear’s buttons, he dutifully returned to the task he had been charged with. “Can’t keep the captain waiting.”
Potchis pivoted on his heel, resuming his wide stride, rushing us toward our rendezvous with destiny.
Seated in a wingback chair, Captain Harwood was propped up by pillows, appearing more shriveled and frail then before. Dressed in a crimson velvet robe, he outstretched one arthritic hand to wave us into his private dining room aboard the Jolly Roger. Potchis and Malyn took their place against the wall opposite him, stares trained straight ahead as they awaited their captain’s command. Entering the room, with Sterling and Phin tucked close to my sides, I scanned the space. Even in its dilapidated condition, the stately magnificence of the ship could not be denied. The mahogany table was hand-carved mastery, the walls draped with jewel toned tapestries.
“Come, join me for a meal,” he rasped, his quaking hand gesturing to the chairs opposite him. “I am sorry to say I only offer what the island grants us, but you’re very welcome to it.”
The spread before us was barely enough to feed one person; a halved pineapple, one smoked fish, a bowl of some sort of grey mush, and another of macadamia nuts. While Sterling and Phin took their seats, I remained standing, hands gripping the back of my chair.
“May I?” I asked with a nod to the humble buffet.
The corners of his pale grey eyes crinkling with interest, Harwood bowed his head in approval of the unspoken request. “By all means.”
Head falling back, I rolled my shoulders and tried to recall how it was I manifested things before. Far as I could tell, I simply thought of them. In my mind I pictured the great feast served at Caselotti. The salty sweetness of a glazed ham. Succulent roast goose. Bowls of fluffy mashed potatoes. Towering plates of warm biscuits. Fruit by the bushel. Trays of desserts I could never name, but would never forget their heavenly decadence. The vision was so vivid I could smell the mouthwatering aroma.
A bark of laughter rattling from Harwood’s chest popped my eyes open.
“That is a handy skill to have!” The captain peered my way with a fresh appreciation. “I’m inclined to offer you a position with my crew with talent like that.”
My chair squeaked across the wood planked floor as I dragged it back to take a seat. “Were I not duty bound to King Liam of Caselotti, I might be inclined to consider such an offer,” I politely lied.
“And a man of honor, to boot. I can respect that.” Scooting himself up in his seat, he waved the three of us to the now grand display. “Please, help yourselves. I would hate to enjoy all of this alone.”
Phin needed no further invitation. Grabbing the polished silver spoon, he heaped his plate with mashed potatoes. Content with the helping of fluffy spoils, he dove in and enjoyed each mouthful with audible appreciation.
Watching Harwood’s hand shake as it struggled to grip a serving fork, Malyn took a tentative step forward, hovering in case she was needed. Only when he managed to finagle a piece of ham onto his plate did she step back into formation.
After cutting his meat with the side of his fork, Harwood shoveled a bite into his mouth and talked in between noisy chomps. “Many have sought answers held within the mirror you seek. Myself included. Yet, a scarce few are granted them. Sadly, I’m counted among that unfortunate lot as well. I have no qualms allowing you to gaze upon it, but would hate for you to be disappointed as I have been so many, many times.”
Hungrily wetting his lips, Sterling reached over his plate to tear a drumstick from the roasted goose. The moment his skin touched it, the headless foul leapt from the tray. It flapped its featherless wings, and flew right out the open window. Hand flitting to his mouth, Sterling emitted a stunned eep.
With a grimace of unease, he pushed his plate in my direction. “Would you get me a slice of ham … please?”
Blinking in astonishment, the party as a collective unit decided to shake off the oddity witnessed.
“We know of the legend.” I cleared my throat, and forked two slices of ham on to Sterling’s plate for him. “They say it takes one pure of heart and gifted with sight to behold the truth within the reflection. If I may ask how you came to possess such a treasured artifact?”
“I sought it out for many years, hoping it would hold the key to breaking my own … curse.” Reaching for his napkin to dab his mouth, his opposite hand pointed to his face in reference to his reptilian alter ego. “Tracking and researching led me to a ship known as The Enforcer. Our own Sergeant Malyn was among the treasures I found aboard.”
Bristling at her name in mention to part of her own tale she had never heard, Malyn risked a glance in her captain’s direction.
Fork suspended over his potatoes, Harwood leaned one elbow on the table. “I heard rumor of what was needed to access the mirror’s well of truth. Knowing what it required, I chose to spare her. Wouldn’t it have been poetic if that slight lass fighting for her life was the key to all knowledge? Sadly, poetry is not the way of magic. At least not in this case.”
Whatever Sergeant E’toil felt at this revelation, she managed to keep her face blank of emotion. Only a series of rapid blinks clued she heard anything at all.
Beside me, Sterling slapped at a biscuit, fearing it would come alive.
“Stop it,” I muttered out of the corner of my mouth.
Utensils scraping over his plate, Hardwood topped a slice of ham with a dollop of potato and popped it in his mouth. “Since then, I have taken in several wayward youths during my travels—such as Potchis there—and brought them here under the pretenses of joining my crew. Each I gave an attempt to glance in the mirror, without ever telling them the real reason why. Saw no purpose in that, they had a home here either way. After all, even a currently landbound ship needs tending to. A captain is nothing without his crew.”
Unlike his sergeant, a shadow of hurt drifted over Potchis’ features before the demands of his duties could chase it away.
“If I’m to tell the truth of it,” picking up his stein of ale, Harwood treated himself to a hardy swallow, “I fe
ar my time is growing short. The change is taking a harder toll now than ever before, my body failing to recover as it once did. My prayer is that the winds of fate blew you here for a reason. Mayhap we could have the boy peer into the mirror? See what he can see?” Stein returned to the table in a slosh of auburn liquid, the captain snapped his gnarled fingers at Potchis. “Lad, bring the mirror over. I don’t have the strong back I once did to retrieve much of anything of weight.”
Venturing to the far side of the room, wood floor creaking beneath his feet, Potchis tossed aside the black velvet shroud. Beneath was an oblong frame etched with gold scrolls and leaves. Hoisting it off its pedestal, he swung it around, giving me a momentary glimpse at its surface. The images I saw reflected were of those in the room with me, yet somehow … not. Sterling’s eyes were glowing feline slits, faint stripes of blue wisped over his cheeks. Harwood’s croc reflection I had to check against the real thing, fearing the beast had made a sneaky return. Disturbed as I was by both of these glimpses, they in no way prepared me for Phin’s likeness. His sunken eyes were lined with dark shadows. Skin, the grey pallor of death, cracked and oozed with rot and decay. Lifeless eyes stared back at me, beseeching me to save him.
Then it was gone. The mirror turned at an angle I could no longer see into, much to my soul’s relief. Propping it up on the table beside Captain Harwood, Potchis dutifully held it in place.
“Well done.” Harwood barely looked up from his plate, dragging his last bite of ham through the remnants of his potatoes.
To my right, Sterling stabbed his fork into his ham with merciless strikes. Pausing his attack, he tapped his index finger to it, as if trying to resuscitate the lump of meat.
Twitch developing behind my eye, I gave him a sideways glare. “If you keep playing with your food, I’m going to take it away.”
Aghast by the mere thought of simply eating, Sterling stabbed a hand at the window. “The goose flew away!”
Entombed in Glass (Unfortunate Soul Chronicles Book 2) Page 11