The sand under his feet. The shade of the trees and the scent of the plants. Such simple things and yet to Lloyd they felt like manna from heaven after being stuck on the confines of the ship. He paused on the cusp of the forest, turning to look over the sea and breath in the salty air, filling his lungs with fresh air that was free from the smell of body odour.Nathaniel used perfume. At least, he certainly had a fragrance of musk about him, his personal hygiene far superior to that of his crew. Lloyd supposed he'd given up on keeping his crew in half-decent order. What was the point? Even if some of them smelled as if they were rotting from the inside out, there was little he could now.He didn't notice Blake standing in the shadows of the rocks and glaring at him, a strange smile tilting his lips. Nathaniel had. And he frowned. Blake was dangerous. He knew that. Out of all his crew, Blake had been the one who gave him the most trouble. He had never dared mutiny, he knew how far h
Lloyd felt himself drawn deeper into the heart of the island. Pulled by an unseen force. The amulet on his neck glowed, providing a comforting warmth and light and, Lloyd believed, it was his guide.'Just go with it.' He thought, nervously looking to the bushed as something stirred unseen, 'It'll keep me safe. I know that...I hope...'There were others here. Nestled in tumbledown dwellings in their overgrown villages. Lost to nature and modern times. And they were who he assumed he was being pulled to.Even though he knew better, it was hard to chase away images of violent, feral humans, craving the flesh of their defeated enemies and driving back anyone who dared tread their land.'Stop it,' Lloyd stepped carefully over the knotted mess of roots and weeds. 'Freaking yourself out isn't helpful. As far as science knows, cannibalism faded out. And most tribes sound far more civilised than we are in the so-called developed world.'The trees leaned in like a grim canopy as his eyes were
Blake had noticed Lloyd wandering off but, whilst curious, was not in the position to have anyone follow him. There was something about the amulet that set his nerves on edge and that was only heightened by the determined look in the boy's eyes. "Ask Thomas, he's friendly with the boy,' one of the others suggested when he mentioned it."Ain't any point," Blake snapped as he pushed away a tangled branch that reached down from the darkness. "He won't say anything. And there's the chance he'll go and blab to Hemlock."His hand drifted to a sliver blade at his side. The metal was tarnished from age but it remained lethally sharp. Perfect for a blood offering. 'Do not spare suffering on the human,' a voice whispered to him alone. He paused briefly in midstep. 'The token dies swiftly. The victim must linger. So long have I waited for one who seeks agony. Such boons I can give if my needs are met.'The voice concerned him but the smooth guttural tone had an oddly soothing effect and stirre
Lloyd didn't remember going back to Nathaniel's room. Nor did he remember falling asleep. But the sights that greeted him could only be dreams. Figures blurred about the edges like smudged paintings, voices that were clear but hollow.He was standing on a cluster of rocks overlooking a shale-covered beach. Weed clung to the jagged edges under his feet, and the waves lashed cruelly.But he didn't feel any danger. Not from the elements.There was a child on the beach. The only figure who was clear enough to make out. It was too far to make out the gender, and the unisex cut of the fair hair made it more challenging, taunted the sea, jumping back before the wash could tickle its feet.Laughter bounced and echoed, but Lloyd felt no joy at the scene.Amid the boulders were shadows. Human? Creature? It was hard to tell. But they watched the young child, inching closer like snakes stalking prey.The sun radiated down and illuminated the shapes as they emerged. One was human. The others only
The very deep did rot: O Christ!That ever this should be!Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs,Upon the slimy sea.About, about, in reel and routThe death-fires danced at night;The water, like a witch's oils,Burnt green, and blue and white.And some in dreams assurèd wereOf the Spirit that plagued us so;Nine fathom deep, he had followed usFrom the land of mist and snow.The words swirled like a winter storm around Lloyd's mind as he took up a worn book that Nathaniel had left out.He had left soon after placing them on the deck. They had shared a lingering look, holding just a second too long and revealing more emotion than either wanted.He muttered something, a few garbled words that probably made as little sense to him as they did to Lloyd before he left more slowly than normal. The only thing that had been clear was he would be back shortly. Lloyd assumed he wanted to clear his head, and he could understand why.There was a strange warmth in the room, and it penetrated in
'We are our own devils; we drive ourselves out of our Edens...to roam without purpose in the chaos we were born within. Using nature, so pure and perfect, to fulfil our darkest lust and desires.'Nathaniel's hands clamped on the rail as he watched the tide swell and the waves curl and claw at the sand and shale.The air was fresh. The salty scent pulled away the stagnancy that stillness sometimes brought.That voice. That damning, cherubic voice...it took all the beauty from the scenery. Stripped it away as if it had been doused in acid.'We play the pipe, and the mortals dance...even God despairs.'"Be silent," Nathaniel hissed through gritted teeth, two of his nails snapping as they unconsciously clawed the wood. A splinter pierced his fingers, and crimson blood bubbled to the surface. When it fell, the mist swirled, clamouring for the bitter taste."A heart once made of pure stone, now sees that life is Hell alone...but still the eyes refuse to see, the pain and woe coming to thee
When had night fallen?Lloyd hadn't a clue. Locked in a state of coma, occasionally able to open his eyes and see the blurred surroundings.If they were familiar, his brain couldn't place them.In fact, Blake had stowed him in the storage room. Going about his day with trepidation. Every time someone went below, his heart seized. Night could not come soon enough,As soon as the moon rose, Blake signalled for his closest allies. They dragged the limp figure across the deck, concealed by shadows and the blessing of whatever beast watched them.The cave wasn't far. The musty air was stagnant with the smell of rotted seaweed and brine, and the gloom was barely broken by a single, dying candle.But it was enough to make the engraved dagger, lying on a ragged rock, glimmer menacingly."I know the words..." Blake whispered. "He speaks to me. Good job, too. I ain't book smart, and I don't know these strange languages. But I hope you all have strong stomachs. This ritual is gruesome, but," he
Lloyd pulled violently against the ropes that seemed to bite deeper into his wrists, like the jaws of sharks thirsty for blood. His desperate efforts only served to chafe his skin. And amuse Blake more, or whatever it was that inhabited him.A low mist oozed from the damp floor, surrounding their feet and hiding the ruby droplets that stained them.Smirking, Blake grabbed Lloyd's legs and pulled him forward, bending them roughly up to his chest and pressing his weight down.His intent was clear, and the men behind turned their heads, mouths dry and minds whirling. "Get off me!" Lloyd kicked his bound feet, hitting Blake squarely in the chin and making him drop his legs. With a low snarl, Blake reached out and struck him across the face, his nails ripping into his cheek and splitting his lip."Just be good and take everything I'm giving..." He breathed harshly, pressing the knife to the trembling throat. "Consider yourself a martyr to a better cause. You know Hemlock ain't goin' to