The Ophir

by Irene Patino

  “I swear to you, we pulled her up in the net along with the other three.”

  “Like fish? Why weren’t they wet? Where did they come from?”

  The lamia responsible for the safe delivery of the children slapped his knee in silent laughter.

  The vampires stood aside after each delivery; they watched the expressions go from incredulity to exasperation to frustration and rage.

  Ancient pirates are easily amused. It didn’t take much to keep them entertained as they listened to stories that would soon become myths.

  “We were fishing off the trench. Suddenly everything went kitty waddle, and ...”

  “Kitty waddle? What in the name of heaven do you mean by kitty waddle?”

  “Crazy, all over the place. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen. The sky turned all different colors. The ocean went still, smooth as glass. A fog rolled in and there in the middle of the fog was a boulder. The children were huddled in the middle of it. At first I thought I was seein’ things. I wiped my eyes and looked again, but they were still there.”

  Over the years, the pirates managed to build a better platform on which to develop communication skills as well as theatrical ones. The ships that were confiscated from the average man were scuttled at the center of a triangle formed by three of Antonio’s fleet.

  The ships formed scaffolding for more ships as they fell toward the bottom of the ocean. The mound grew over time, until it towered above the cordon of decaying ships that formed the triangle. The occasional yacht was often taken as their own, and all goods were transferred.

  Disappearances and anomalies would continue throughout the ages. More reports would be filed on missing boats, ships and airplanes when the time of man took to the air, but I would no longer care by then.

  * * * *

  The Ophir and her crew disembarked at the island now and again. I watched and recorded as best I could the annals for future reference. It was fast becoming more and more difficult to hold pencil or pen to paper. With no flesh upon my bones, the writing utensils slipped too easily from my grip. Betwixt and between those moments, I mused as best I could with decreasing mental acuity, to consider my life past, present and future.

  My past had been busy, quiet for the most part with a measure of respect from others due to my position with my master Joseph Ben Abin. That past seemed so distant as to make it a short, dim memory. The past, after the curse, was a fast paced life fraught with danger. It made me feel more alive even though I died a little with each draining. The adrenaline was always pumping. I stayed ready for flight when needed.

  The One’s quest of revenge for the rape and death of his wife was never ending. It took us through many parts of the continent that had never been explored. One could follow his route by following the trail of desiccated bodies left in his wake.

  In a recent conversation with Captain Antonio, my thoughts wandered, my sentences rambled with lack of cohesion, but I made my point. My future held no interest. I was nothing more than an empty-headed puppet. I could no longer parlay for the purposes of bargaining. My days were at an end, and I was glad of it. My condition begged questions: How much longer must I exist? Was there hope for me in the future? Could my life be rectified and made to count for something, or was I to simply cease to exist?

  I could no longer animate my old bones, all that was left of Ahkmed. I prayed daily for release.

  “What would you ask of me, Ahkmed? The fleet has gone its separate ways. Ask what you will and I will do my best to make it happen.”

  “Peace, Captain. I ask that I be allowed to savor peace. Allow me to rest on an unknown island. Lean me against a coconut tree with a bottle of rum where the crabs can explore the fleshless caverns of my body. It was never a pirate’s life for me, and I belonged less in the life of the lamia. Peace, Captain. Let me go.”

  “We head for the Ring of Fire. Until then you can stay in your cabin. The waters will be turbulent. I would not wish to lose you overboard. You served me faithfully, though it was not always to your liking, and I believe myself to be indebted to you for those first years of service. I learned many things because of you.

  There are many uncharted islands in that realm. You deserve great reward for your part in our history as well as that of your master. May you be blessed with dreams of things, as you would have wanted them to be, had fate not intervened.

  Busy your days with listing those things you wish to take with you. Please include your pencil and paper. I will provide a waterproof chest for your property to which I will add leather gloves, which will strengthen your grip on the stylus. It will protect the contents and will not break open so easily should another rogue wave hit.” The captain smiled and it amazed Ahkmed. His fangs had receded. His smile was both human and sincere.

  “You jest, right?” I smiled back. Having no lips, my jaw twitched to indicate a smile. The rotting flesh sloughing off my brow wriggled, unable to form a confident feature. The Captain chuckled low and walked away.

  After the Captain left my quarters, I went back to the maps. I had been following The One’s travels that reached me through gossip. If the accounts were true, my old master should be heading in the same basic direction.

  In the last 300 years or so, rumors had arisen of a man with a reputation of great strength, and no small amount of magik, at his disposal. He was described as exhibiting the same propensity for cruelty and debauchery as Kadar Nazim, prophet and cursor of my master.

  In actuality, the actions of this individual, Hadim Khadhulu, could describe either my master or Kadar Nazim. The map and timeline I devised proved it to be two individuals rather than one. Although both traveled in an eastern direction, they also traveled on opposite sides of the land.

  My master took routes that lead him from Egypt to Europa and through the continent of Asia. Nazim, whispered to be Hadim Khadhulu, travelled the southern coast in a parallel direction going from Africa to the Mideast regions and Asia. Unbeknownst to them both, they were being lead forward by fate. The dice had been cast.

  The word had reached many that Hadim Khadhulu was a descendant of Kadar Nazim, or Nazim himself. If it were so, it would mean that Nazim had also become immortal. I was unable to make sense of the possibility and implications of such a thought, but kept it in mind and my ears stayed open for reports of his whereabouts.

  There were signs that time was shifting in preparation for great change.

  “Look. Are those not Leopard Shark? Why are they swimming with instead of against their prey?”

  “Unusual. They may be confused.”

  “Confused. You may be right. Seems to be a lot of that going ‘round. Heard they’ve been seen in colder waters too.”

  “They may be following the anchovies south. They’ve been spotted in the waters off the southern tip.”

  “Not only that but there’ve been reports of whale beaching and one was even found swimming up river.”

  “I remember that. The sighting had been just after an earthquake more than a thousand miles away.”

  “That one’s new. Where did you hear that one?”

  “There was a ship we took about three months ago. They fared from France, headed toward the Cape of Good Hope.”

  “I love the French. They always have that well-seasoned taste.”

  “Garlic.” The vampires looked at each other and broke out in laughter.

  “Well, so much for that myth.”

  Now and then I would get word that The One had been caught and beheaded. But the next storyteller would erase that story and recite “news” that indicated that my master was still in this world. The story would include details of disappearances of citizens, mass killings and bloodless bodies torn to shreds. I knew by the tales that he still prospered.

  I listened and remembered to write the information down. Someday it would be found, perhaps, and clarify parts of history not open to public discussion.

  * * * *

  Visitors to Ophir Island were welcome
d. Soft island music would add to the illusion that they’d discovered an island as yet to be mapped.

  Captain Antonio and his crew, as well as the other ships, stopped on the island now and then while waiting for the time of man to end. The vampires aboard played their cat and mouse game with their island clients, until it was time to pay up. The veils would come down and the victims would succumb with little fight, but wonderful memories for as long as they lasted. But even those would be taken from most of the humans as they were drained of their life’s blood.

  In books kept by marine services of the history of what was known as the Bermuda Triangle and The Devils Triangle, there would be many disappearances recorded. The phenomena would give birth to numerous fantastic stories that were real--for the most part.

  Of all the myths and tales, my personal favorites were always the ones of love. The one I wish I had witnessed was of Elena and Ricardo.

  * * * *

  Elena was a robust girl who dreamed of marriage and children. Her husband died at sea serving his country. Elena missed him and wished to join him. She took care of all her business, closed all accounts and left a note dividing her savings and property among relatives. No one recognized her actions as those of one about to say ‘goodbye’ to her existence.

  When Elena went on a long trip alone, her relatives were happy for her. Her husband had provided handsomely; she deserved to travel. They thought, “Perhaps it will cheer her up, poor girl.”

  When she took sailing lessons, the women thought, “Good for her. She needs to become independent. This will shore her up some.” The men whispered, “Umpf! Bet that’ll be short lived.” Little did they know how wrong their statements would be.

  Determined to join her husband in his watery grave, never to see land again, Elena told everyone that she just needed a bit of privacy to be with her own thoughts; she leased a catamaran and sailed away from the harbor without looking back. It was either a storm or just plain fate that swept her onto Ophir Island.

  Her thoughts, focused on her husband, were strong and clear. Her vision distorted by the vibrational pull of the lamia blurred her reality. She thought, “Is this a dream?”

  “No, madam. This is no dream. See me with your heart. It’s been 15 years since I was marooned on this island.”

  “Ricardo? But, it can’t be. It must be a dream.”

  “Come here. Let me take you in my arms. Do these arms not feel like the arms of man? Your man. Elena my sweet, I’ve longed for this day. You have no idea how much. Take me in your arms. Hold me.” The woman wept as she gave herself to the man she believed to be her husband. She wanted so much for this to be true.

  The cast of vampires played various roles as the “couple” frolicked on the beach. As Elena offered her throat to her imagined lover, each took a sip of the nectar that was her blood. Each lived in her dreams of love and pain. Each loved her. Each exchanged a drop of themselves for a drop of hers. Three days later, her catamaran was discovered floating at sea. It was empty. Elena’s body was never found.

  Had she succumbed to the vampire’s kiss? Had she drowned at sea in a storm? Might she still be on Ophir Island living her dream? I can’t answer those questions, but I can tell you this: it was rumored that a vampire’s blood was much like a human man’s sperm. It could regenerate and mutate into a living cell that could be passed from woman to woman.

  I prefer this explanation to be more scientific and therefore more plausible. The woman was taken to an undisclosed location and left there to be found by a kind man who nursed her back to health. He fell in love with her and she with him. They married and had three daughters they named Juanita, Antonia, and Patricia. It would be them and their female progeny that would carry the lamia line into the future of man. But then, that’s my ending. You can put whatever ending you prefer when it becomes your story.

  * * * *

  Of the pirates that chose to remain at sea, few survived. They were young and reacted on impulse when left without leadership. They lacked the navigational skills that Captain Antonio had been given by the Knights Templar.

  They strayed from shipping lanes and often went in circles trying to find their way. Lost, they retreated into a frame of mind that was not that far above what they were reputed to be, animals.

  Trapped in the Sargasso Sea, faced with starvation, they turned on one another. In an act of desperation, the last man set his ship ablaze as the sun rose to the horizon. Tears of blood coursed down his petrified cheeks and turned to ash as the flames consumed his body. And another skeleton filled ghost ship was added to the list of pirate lore.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Ophir met and challenged pirates, privateers, and galleons alike, but never ships such as the war galleons of the Knights Templar.

  Warrior monks, blessed with the knowledge possessed in the Templar treasures, made it their responsibility to commit to memory all the information recorded in the leather bound books. The books contained scriptural treatise on sacred geometry, art, science and scriptural scrolls, holding the mystical wisdom of Judaic and Egyptian ritual traditions.

  Many believed that the Poor Knights were guided by a universal mind. The Templars were somehow led to the precise locations to excavate the ancient treasures of the world. In truth, the treasures were located by the Templars because they had buried them there. One of the major goals of Templar excavation in the Holy Land was the Ark of the Covenant.

  When the excavations were near completion in the Year of Our Lord 1127, the future King of Jerusalem would join the Templar order, and later grant land and a rule. The rule placed the Templars and their authority of the treasures above the control or manipulation of bishops, kings and emperors. The Grand Master of the Templars would, from that point on, answer to the Pope, and the Pope alone.

  Captain Antonio, for the first time since leaving the circle of influence of The One, found himself facing and impressionable foe.

  * * * *

  As the Ophir penetrated a thick fog not of their making, the Captain found himself on the inside edge of a semi-circle of twelve war galleons. It astounded the ancient captain and his crew. No one from his fleet of nine ships sensed the presence of man. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late.

  “Do my eyes deceive me? Pray, what source is there to spark such a show?”

  “St. Elmo’s fire?”

  “Can’t be. No Storm.”

  “Aye. True that. They’re almost at level with the horizon.”

  “What horizon? I see only mist. And you, what do you see?”

  “A warning, Capn’. St. Elmo’s Fire with neither storm nor sound. Low in the water. Not a good sign.”

  “Oogooly boogooley, I say.”

  “Oogooly boogooly?” Eyebrows cocked, Contona’s question rippled more of sarcasm than curiosity. Captain Antonio gave Contona a quick side-glance.

  “Yes, oogooly boogooly is an ancient swashbuckling term, used only by people of extreme intelligence. Try tacking toward the lead ship, Contona.” A moment of mirth shone in his eyes.

  “No wind, sir.”

  “Belay that order. No wind. Strange.”

  “Oogooly boogooley’s a fair accurate description, Cap’n’.” Contona’s features remained stoic.

  Captain Antonio coughed into his cupped fist. “Indeed, Contona. Indeed.”

  “Oars in the water? Put their backs into it?”

  “My thoughts exactly. Make it so.”

  The semi-circle changed its formation, and was now a square. No matter which way one, or any of Antonio’s ships tried to row, the galleons would shift to keep them trapped. As the Ophir turned toward the widest corner opening of the square, the warrior monks maneuvered their ships into a triangular formation and closed the gap. They were caught in a net, and the net was being pulled tight.

  “Do you hear oars? They move much faster than we do but make no sound.”

  “Aye. But, the lights stay on that one ship.”

  “I noticed.
Give the orders.”

  Contona envisioned the Ophir rowing hard toward the ship presumed to lead the opponent’s fleet. His silent message was heard; it was followed by the sound of oars dipping into the still ocean. The ship stayed in place. It could move in circles, but neither forward nor back.

  Antonio telepathically signaled his men to stay firm; war galleons, rams at ready, dropped anchor. The Ophir’s boatswain’s mate was directed to lower the bombastic Jolly Roger and hoist the flag of a neutral nation. Captain Antonio’s curiosity peaked and, unable to penetrate the shielded minds of the foe, asked for parley. He couldn’t board without invitation.

  * * * *

  The winds that pushed the Ophir in a northern direction around the west coast of Spain and France had ceased as suddenly as it started. The waters became calm; the fog lifted just enough for murky vision within the triangle.

  The ocean seemed to be glowing from the bottom up. It was an unnatural light, illuminating the immediate area of the lead galleon alone.

  Powered by neither man nor wind, that ship, boasting no flag, broke from the formation of twelve and moved in close to the Ophir.

  A deep, but gentle, voice spoke into the Captain’s left ear. It whispered that he would herald a new beginning for the world, if he would but choose to do so.

  “You have been chosen above all others deemed worthy of this sacrifice. A new order will rise and you will rise with it as vanguard. The question before us is ... are you prepared to give everything to the one and only true God?”

  Antonio looked around to see if anyone else heard the voice, but his men were mesmerized by the sight of the ship that dwarfed theirs by a full third. The ship sailed in close enough to board.

  The Ophir’s Captain no longer practiced his religion, but he’d not forgotten it, and was also enthralled by the ship as it shimmered before his eyes. He fought the compunction to make the sign of the cross. That he should do so would be laughable.

  “Come” said the voice. “We will talk of things no man knows, save us. We will share these memories with you, that you might understand why we have chosen you, above all, to honor.”