The sun pulsed in the abyss, overbearing against the void of distant stars even as it opened to reveal a great eye. The stars creasing and morphing to form a corona of light around the growing intensity of its golden orange iris.
They Will Flee Before the Burning of the Righteous Sun. Wield the Sword.
It was not a question, nor an order, but like a demand. It was a request, a request that rattled his bones in his asking and stretched his mind to understand. What was this thing? A more dangerous question crossed his mind. Why am I here? What is this place.
Answer
Andrew gave the only answer he could while looking into the radiant scar in the darkest of nights. “Yes”
No air escaped his lungs, but his answer was heard all the same.
Good
A ray of light slashed across the darkened abyss, splitting the black canvas as it traveled the distance between the Star and himself in an instant.
Andrew BURNED
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For the third time in what seemed a day I thought to myself about just how far out of my depths I was.
My consciousness slipped back into its normal resting place within the my body, just behind the eyes. These same eyes burned with a cold heat as I tried to opened them, a weight seemed to settle and pull them closed even as I fought to pry their coverings apart.
A light greeted me, the lantern swaying in and out from behind the head of the man sitting above me, a look of concern on his face.
“Uhh, hello” I mumbled, still half caught in the dreary clutches of sleep and warm blankets.
The mans gentle frown, slightly covered by his greying mustache, seemed to deepen from what I could tell from my half lidded vision. Shadows played at the edges of my vision, hypnotic and tempting, drawing me back to the realm of sleep.
“Wake up. The Captain told me to notify him when you woke. So stay awake while I am gone, you will be fine”. With that he stood and I squinted as the light that he had been blocking hit my eyes as he took a step to the right. The newly brightened room pulling me awake and making me want to be even less so. My body ached as I sat up. The only thing I could compare it to was when I ran from the Sydney Boys through the entire city back home. I was only tired and sore though, not in pain, so better than the times I hadn't made it home.
The man eyed me one more time before he turned to leave, opening the door and quickly shuffling into the hallway.
It was only 10 minutes as well as I could tell before the Captain walked in bedecked in all the finery one might expect from a man of his station. I sat up as the door was quickly pushed aside. Captain Addison didn’t look all to happy as he entered, his face darkened with a scowl. He looked around the room, pausing only a second on me, as if my presence barely was worthy of any note. The man behind him, one of the men that had stood behind him on the deck walked in after him, looking bored as he closed the door behind him and nodded to someone outside.
“You are awake far earlier than I thought you would be.”
“Ihh”. My mouth felt like a desert. I grabbed the water by my cot as the captain walked to take a seat.
“You are welcome.”
An anger that I didn't know I had lit in my chest. He expected a thank you. He just whipped me half to death, knowing it was wrong. I should kill him. My gaze shifted to his bored expression, his casual apathy for my suffering. I should rip his disgusting taint from the world and salt the earth where all the things he loved once stood. I would kill him. It would be justice. It would be vengeance. It would be right. He would suffer.
What. I took a breath. Then another. Deep and slow. Calm, think. The anger in my chest dimmed as I quelled what had quickly become a blaze. Why would he expect a thank you? Why did he have a guard. I was basically bedridden, he should have no reason to be here. The only reason to have a guard would be if something was happening outside my small room. That must have been who the guard had nodded to, another trusted guard. Wait, someone both in and outside of my room. Were they guarding me? The hatred in the faces of the men on deck, even as I bled before their eyes. They wanted me dead, and there was disappointment when my punishment was announced. If the men onboard still thought I had killed someone then both the ostensible guard and the guard outside would make sense.
“Are you guarding me?”
“It was decided that your life was in danger after comments were overheard on the lower decks. You are in this room half to protect you and half to let you heal.”
“Why did you whip me”
“If I hadn’t then this wouldn't just be a precaution, it would be a necessity. Contrary to what most might think, as a Captain I try to keep my crew alive and loyal, this was simply the best way to achieve both.”
I nodded, my thoughts seemed to be correct. My life was in danger and he had tried to appease his crew with bloodsport. It didn't work and now he worried that they wanted more.
“But I hadn’t done anything, why do they think it was me?”
“You’re new, you’re unknown, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time with a whole lot of blood on you.”
I sighed, to most men that was enough to kill, both reality and fiction taught that lesson. Not that there was a lot he could do about it now. My options were limited as it was, it was best not to think about what I could have done better in the past. That hadn't gotten me anywhere but where I was now, and if I didn’t focus now there would be no time to do it in the future anyways. I sat up, my back oddly painless “Sir, do I need to get offboard?”
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He nodded, grimacing. “In all likelihood, yes. I cannot guarantee you safety without assigning you a guard, and that can only last so long. I would prefer to not deal with another murder, to many problems follow them, especially gruesome ones”
“What did happen”
“To put it simply a room was decorated with blood and organs of a victim who was quite beloved on board, he was the cook. He loved the sailors, making sure that they got the best food he could provide, and they loved him in turn, making sure that he was treated like a king. He was cut over a hundred times, but the cause of death was a puncture to the neck. I don’t know how no one noticed, but the fact that we have no leads is very worrisome, especially with the influx of soldiers aboard”
I shuddered, “How did you know I didn’t do it, it isn't as though I could provide concrete evidence.”
“You were noted as the most likely suspect due to your appearance on deck covered in blood. This spread around the crew and very quickly they were hounding for your blood. I was informed by some less bloodthirsty sailors below deck that my chances of dissuading my crew from pursuing your death were low. It might have seemed bad on deck, but I assure you, there was a frenzy before I called for the faux trial. It was obvious once you started talking that you couldn’t murder anyone, you didn’t have the eyes for it. Your location was accounted for for the vast majority of the night, with the exception of the period between the finish of sunset and your finding about 1 hour later. You are two meek to kill anyone and in all likelihood you were knocked out but the transportation of your body below decks without being noticed was too difficult.”
That made a surprising amount of sense. Who was that man that he had seen? Could that have been the murderer? Were my visions just hallucinations. That wasn’t unheard of. I had heard my father talking with his friend Professor Ambel about the topic once, he had said that after a rattling of the brain, or as he called it, a “concussion”, that the patient sometimes suffered hallucinations. Though he had said those were temporary and usually just after the hit. I didn’t have any other symptoms though. My head felt fine beyond its typical pounding, and light felt, if anything, more energizing to me than before. If not a concussion than what else? I hadn't been hit in the head before my whipping and I still heard the same voice.
My dream, I had forgotten about my dream. The immense eye of a thousand burning stars. How could I forget that.
“Once we reach shore you will be summarily discharged and put into the care of my younger cousin, Captain Leopold Addison. You can do as you like, but I would recommend joining his company. He will allow it if I put in good word, but it will be my standing that will be at risk, and you must act accordingly.” He eyed me as if unsure of whether I could conduct myself with any sense of decorum, and slowly drawled out, “Is that understood?”
I sneered. “Your confidence is heartwarming sir, I am honored that you would give me your personal recommendation”. He frowned. He was saving my life, but the condescension was unwanted and misplaced. There was one thing I hated above all, one thing that always pushed me to anger, and that was being looked down upon. The bite in my voice was crossing a line, I needed to calm down, it usually didn’t bother me as much as it was. It was probably the stress.
“Well” He straightened, his voice a calm measurement of detachment. “We will see shore within the hour”
“What!” I didn’t know what time it was, but I couldn’t have been out for more than a few hours. “How long have I been down here?”
“It has been two days.”
“Two days? What happened to me.”
“You are correct in assuming that it is abnormal. At first there was worry that your wounds were more severe than was previously thought, perhaps aggravating an internal injury you previously sustained, but very quickly we were disabused of that notion when you back healed after the first night. No scars either, just smooth skin. It is unnatural. The men fear you are possessed by a demon. I don’t want to believe that, but whether your healing is supernatural or a simple oddity, the facts remain the same, I do not want you on my ship”
What in the world happened to me? Whatever it was I could deal with it afterwards. “And the second day I just slept?”
“No, you burned up with a fever, though the physician noted that you displayed no other symptoms than the heat. Apparently you were hot enough that even after your back healed he still feared you would die. ‘Scalding to the touch’ as he put it, though I think he exaggerated a degree”
“Why are you here yourself? You could have just sent someone to tell me all this.”
“I certainly could have, but I felt the need to do it myself, call it guilt if you must. Your innocence I know, and though the punishment was necessary for your own safety, I still regret its necessity. With that, I apologize.” He suddenly stood, “I have spent enough of my time here, you are free to leave this room, though I would suggest you not, and if you feel absolutely compelled to do so, then do so with caution. I must go prepare for our turn into the river. Get off the ship after we dock and wait near the landing. I will send you a guide who will take you to my cousin, good day.” With that he turned and walked to the door. He turned back just as the door opened, “I wish you luck”. And with that he turned and strode into the hall, his guard following behind him. The door shut.
I sat for a second, staring at the door, “What the fuck is happening?”.
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The last hour spent within the confines of the stifling room had been spent in thought. These dreams, if I could call them that, were real. They had to be. At the very least I had to believe I wasn’t insane. To admit insanity was to question every thought, to look at my mind and see it fractured. Something was different, yes, but insanity, no. My personality hadn’t changed, my morals remained the same, I could still look back on my life and remember my favorite passages and memories, my father and mother, my days spent in the corner of the shop beneath the open window reading whichever book caught my fancy. Would I remember these things if I was insane. Maybe - but thinking I was insane would do me no good. I already spent thirty minutes in an intense staring contest with a wooden plank across the room over this very issue anyway, and had nothing to show for it beyond my conclusion that, no matter what, I could not question my sanity. That led down a dark road of half-shadows and shifting perceptions which I could not return from.
So it was real, the voice was real. This I knew for “certain”. This thought may be scarier than me being insane, but it was nonetheless what I had to work with. What it was, I don’t know. What it wants, I don’t know.
It had come to me twice when I was awake. Why it had done so, I wasn’t entirely certain. But I had ideas. Heightened emotion seemed to be part of it, or a byproduct. Looking back I had been very happy and very scared before each, I didn’t really know what to call it, but the word “connection” was perhaps the closest word to what he felt. It was almost as though something was tethered to him. If he closed his eyes and simply sat, focusing wholly on his own mind in the void, he could only feel it, a flame deep within himself, guttered and low. It was within him, was him, and yet was distinct. A second aspect of it, seemed to be the surreal calmness that turned to understanding throughout both connections. Even this was difficult to put into words, but that feeling of lightness, of “being”, it was something I couldn’t not remember. Through reaching for the unknown beyond, one could see themselves amongst existence, could feel the connection they had with the rest of reality, could see the divine. And then came the connection. In reaching out I found something, something which now watches me, even as I think. I need fresh air.
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I found my personal belongings below my bed, carefully folded and stowed. Someone had obviously been through them, but nothing seemed to be missing. I threw on a shirt which laid beside my pack. It was a clean white cloth, and obviously meant to replace my torn shirt. A jacket had also been laid over pants which were not mine either. After putting both on, I resolved myself, picked up my bag, and walked for the door.
Squeezing between the rushing sailors and laughing soldiers, I made my way to the deck. No one seemed to have taken a particular notice of me yet, and I was hoping that would persist. It was hard to stay unnoticed with my height and gangly limbs, so I just kept my head down and tried to walk like I belonged there. I had failed to consider just how bad of an idea this was. I shook my head. “Had to do it sometime” I murmured to myself.
The lower decks passed quickly. No one seemed to be looking for me, though I did rush past a few sailors I remember from my whipping. A heat burned in my chest, anger flaring to life. I clenched my fists, not the time or place I reminded myself, taking a deep breath. I needed to get to the surface.
Stepping onto the deck was a problem in itself. Men hung from the reefs of the ship and the netting along the side, dangling like monkeys while their counterparts below scrambled about pulling lines. I looked around. A group of men stood around the wheel, pointing into the distance before the ship and talking. I saw the Captain among their number.
“Land spotted Captain” came a shout from above. The ringing of a bell followed. Looking up I saw a man waving from the crowsnest, a spyglass in hand. “Between port and bow sir, a few miles out.”
Men continued to move about below, but all joined in a cheer before returning to their tasks. I walked to the portside edge, joined by a few idling sailors, to see if I could spot the fine line on the horizon that would be shore.
The sea breeze blew as I looked out, ruffling my hair as I took a deep breath and looked out over the sparkling sea, a brilliant aquamarine reflecting the beautiful blue sky. I couldn’t help but smile. It was all so incredible. No matter what came it would be okay. I looked to the sun, sitting in the clear, shining above all. I closed my eyes, the light streaming through my eyelids, its warm heat on my skin. The breeze refreshing and calm. My smile widened. A weight lifting from my shoulders as I let out a breath I hadn’t known I had been holding. It would all be okay.