Blood Captain

by Justin Somper

  “It’s steep,” Grace said, looking up at the sheer, exposed rock-face. Her own heart was beating fast. She was okay with heights — unlike her brother — but this was something else. She had to agree with Shanti. This challenge could well be beyond them. And yet she had absolute faith in the captain. She couldn’t believe he would have led them here to fail.

  “It is steep,” Grace repeated, “but we can do it. We’ll just have to be very careful.”

  “It’s a sheer drop!” Shanti said. “And the wind’s getting up, too. Can’t you feel how cold it is? My face is numb.”

  Grace didn’t think it would be helpful to point out to Shanti that as she was the only one dressed in fur, the others were feeling even colder.

  “We can make it,” she said instead. “The captain wouldn’t be leading us this way if he thought we’d fail.” Her words were gentle but firm. She looked ahead, realizing that the lights from the captain’s cape were now growing faint. She wondered why he had walked on so far ahead of them. Why didn’t he stay to help them?

  “Come on,” she said. “We can do this. Lorcan, do you want us to hold on to you or would you rather walk alone?”

  “Let’s try to carry on as we are for the moment,” he said. “If I need you to guide me, I’ll say.”

  “All right, then,” Grace said, turning to Shanti. “Do you want to lead for a bit?”

  “Lead?” Shanti seemed surprised.

  “Yes,” Grace said. “One of us needs to go ahead of Lorcan and one behind. Which would you prefer?”

  Shanti shook her head. “I can’t do it, Grace. I can’t climb that path.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Grace said, still calm. “I’m taking Lorcan up that mountainside because the captain tells me there’s a chance he’ll be cured of his blindness up there. Not a certainty, but a chance. And yes, it is my fault that he’s blind and so yes it is my fault that he isn’t sharing with you and that you’re growing wrinkly and old.” She couldn’t stop the rush of emotions and words. “All of this is my fault, Shanti — not yours, mine. But at least I’m trying to make it better. If we can just get to the top of this mountain, I think we can sort this out. So for Lorcan, and for you — though I really don’t like you very much — I’m prepared to give this a try. Now, either you come with us or we leave you here, but as long as Lorcan is willing to climb with me, I’m going on.”

  Shanti was speechless for a moment.

  “I’m willing,” Lorcan said.

  “Then I’ll lead,” Shanti said, stepping past Grace and striding up the path.

  “Good work, Grace.” She heard the whisper in her ear, realizing with a start that it was not Lorcan but the captain who was speaking to her. How could he hear her from so far up ahead?

  In some ways, Grace thought, it was a blessing that it was so dark. You could block out the fact that the path was bordered by nothingness on one side. You had to block out that fact, as much as you could. As long as you kept focused on the steadiness of your footsteps, and remained alert to the turning points, it really wasn’t so bad. Shanti was taking the responsibility of leading very seriously and calling out to Lorcan every time he needed to turn. The captain had slowed his pace, too, so that he was never very far in front.

  Once more, Grace found herself totally absorbed in the rhythm of her movements. She lost track of how far they had come, how high they had climbed. All she knew was that they had to keep going. For however long it took. It was strange making a journey that seemed to have no end point but, in a curious way, it was also a relief.

  A noise ahead of her drew her back from her musings. Alarmed, she saw that Lorcan had tripped. He had fallen on the path, thank goodness. But his feet had sent rocks tumbling down the mountainside.

  “Are you okay?” Grace asked, reaching out a hand to him.

  “Yes,” he said, gathering himself on his feet. “I don’t know what happened there.”

  “It’s my fault,” Shanti said. “The path is narrower and more broken up here. I should have said.”

  “It’s okay,” Lorcan replied. “No harm done.” Grace could see his smile in what little light there was.

  “Oh,” moaned Shanti. “I can’t see the captain. Has he gone on ahead? It’s so hard to keep up!” She hurried along the narrow track, practically running to keep sight of the captain.

  “Be careful!” Grace cried. “Not so fast!”

  But Shanti wouldn’t heed the warning. She was determined to catch the captain. As Shanti disappeared around the corner, Grace told Lorcan, “I’ve got to catch up to her, to stop her. Wait here!”

  “All right,” he agreed, relieved to catch his breath.

  Grace pressed on ahead. She hadn’t got very far when she heard a cry, followed by something that sounded very much like crumbling rock. She felt a wave of dread even before she heard Shanti’s strangulated cry. “Help!”

  “Shanti!” Grace cried, striding ahead.

  As she turned the corner, the sight that confronted her confirmed her worst fears. Shanti was suspended over the side of the mountain, a sheer drop beneath her. The path had given way around her and all that was keeping her from falling into the abyss was a precarious-looking shrub. A shrub that, by the looks of things, could uproot itself at any moment.

  “Shanti!” Grace cried once more, crouching down and extending her arm. “Take hold of me. I’ll pull you up.”

  Grace had never seen such raw terror as she saw now in Shanti’s eyes. “No,” she rasped. “Grace, I can’t. You’re not strong enough.”

  “Oh yes I am,” Grace said, though really she wasn’t all that confident. She and Shanti were of a similar weight. What if Shanti dragged her down rather than Grace pulling her up? Grace had to shut out the thought. She was going to do this. They were both going to be all right. She reached out her hand. “Come on, Shanti,” she said. “All you have to do is let go of that plant and I’ll catch you.”

  “I can’t!” But as Shanti spoke, the shrub began to move. The ground was loosening again and, as Shanti closed her eyes and prepared for the worst, Grace reached out and grabbed her arm. “I’ve got you,” she said. “I’ve got you.” Now, all she had to do was pull her up onto the solid patch of path.

  But as Grace began to pull, she had the grim realization that she was not strong enough. Now what was she going to do? There was no sign of the captain and there was no way Lorcan could get here without someone leading him. She felt a rising panic but was determined not to transmit it to Shanti.

  “What’s wrong?” Shanti asked. “I was right, wasn’t I? You’re not strong enough! We’re both going to die!”

  Now Grace faced a terrible dilemma. Either let Shanti fall into the void alone or be dragged down with her. She looked down the brutal drop. There was no way either of them could survive such a fall.

  Suddenly, Shanti’s weight became lighter. Grace wondered if she had managed to summon some unknown resources deep within herself. Then she saw that another pair of hands were reaching out to hold Shanti. Grace turned and saw a young man crouching beside her on the path. He was dressed in the robes of a shepherd.

  “I’ll count to three,” he said. “Then we pull her up, okay?”

  Grace nodded. The man smiled at her. It was a smile that instilled complete confidence and calm in her.

  “One, two, three . . .”

  Grace focused all her strength as they pulled Shanti up and onto the path. She lay on the ground, covered in dirt, sobbing. Grace’s own heart was pounding. They had both faced certain death. If it hadn’t been for the shepherd, it would have ended very differently. What a miracle he had been passing at that very moment.

  “Thank you,” Grace said, turning to the man.

  But he was nowhere to be seen, gone as mysteriously as he had arrived.

  She glanced down at Shanti. “Well done!” she said.

  “I nearly died,” Shanti said, twisting her head back toward the drop. “We both nearly died!”

  “N
o,” Grace said, reaching out and turning Shanti’s trembling face toward her. “Don’t look down. Don’t look back. We must only look forward! Do you understand?”

  Shanti nodded, too terrified to speak.

  “Wait here!” Grace said. “Catch your breath. I must go and fetch Lorcan, then we’ll all go on together.”

  “No!” Shanti cried out. “Don’t leave me!”

  “It’s just for a moment, just to fetch Lorcan.” Grace wavered. “All right, let’s get you up on your feet first.” She held out her hand and helped Shanti to her feet. The girl was hobbling. For a moment, she feared that Shanti had twisted her ankle or worse. Then she saw what was wrong.

  “The heel has come off one of your boots,” Grace said.

  “Where is it?” Shanti asked.

  Grace glanced over the mountainside. “It doesn’t matter where it is,” she said.

  “But what am I supposed to do?” Shanti’s voice spiraled into panic. “I can’t go on, Grace. I’ve tried. Haven’t I tried? I really have but I can’t do this, not with one shoe without a heel.” She slumped to the ground and pulled herself into a ball, sobbing.

  Grace made a decision. She crouched down and took Shanti’s foot in her hand. Grabbing the one remaining heel, she twisted it as powerfully as she could. It came off in her hand.

  “What are you doing?” cried Shanti.

  Saying nothing, Grace threw the redundant heel over the mountainside to join its partner. Shanti looked at her with rising panic.

  “Now, just stand up and see how you balance,” she said to Shanti.

  “I can’t walk without heels!”

  “The important thing is, how does your ankle feel? Do you think you’ve twisted it?”

  “But my shoes!” Shanti continued.

  “If you’re really uncomfortable, we’ll swap boots,” Grace said. “I think we’re the same size.”

  “You’d do that for me? But . . . but you said you didn’t like me.”

  Grace smiled, in spite of herself. “I don’t think you like me very much either, Shanti, but we’re in this together. We have to work as a team.” Her smile faded and she looked more determinedly at Shanti. “It’s vital we get Lorcan to Sanctuary . . . for his sake and for yours. Whatever it takes.”

  Grace’s words hit their target.

  Shanti nodded gratefully.

  “I’m going to get Lorcan now. He’ll be worried about us.”

  But just as Grace set off, she saw that Lorcan was making his own way toward them. How had he negotiated that tricky and dangerous stretch of path alone? Grace had a sudden image of the shepherd who had helped them just now. Could it be?

  “Are you both okay?” Lorcan asked.

  “Yes,” said Grace. “Yes, we’re fine — aren’t we, Shanti? Shanti had a fall but she’s okay now. Aren’t you, Shanti?”

  “Yes.” Shanti nodded, somehow getting the message not to give Lorcan any further reason to be alarmed. She paused. “Thank you, Grace. Why don’t we swap places? You lead for a bit?”

  Grace nodded and went to the front of them. She glanced up the dark mountainside. How much farther did they have to climb? As the question formed in her head, she suddenly heard a familiar whisper.

  “Not far now.”

  She glanced ahead, seeing the lights flickering on the captain’s cape. He must have waited for them, or perhaps even come back for them. But if he had been so near, why hadn’t he helped? It seemed there was more than one mystery to ponder on this strange mountainside. But as Grace began thinking further about it, she heard Lorcan call out from behind her.

  “Snow!”

  For a moment, it seemed a random word. Then she felt it too as the first snowflake rested on her nose. Ordinarily, it would have thrilled her, but not here, not now. A snow flurry was the very last thing they needed if they were ever to make it to the mountaintop.

  Soon the path beneath Grace’s feet was utterly white. A shiver passed through her. She realized she was being tested to her physical limits.

  “It can’t be much farther!” she heard Shanti moan.

  “Not long now,” said Grace.

  “So you keep saying!” Shanti whined.

  “Look up ahead,” the captain’s voice whispered through the breeze.

  “Where?” said Shanti. “I can’t see anything.”

  But Grace could see it. There, in the distance, twin lights pierced the darkness. Two flaming torches stood like giant sentinels on either side of the gates. The gates to Sanctuary. They had arrived. At last.

  “About time!” sighed Shanti, as she too noticed the light.

  “What a whiner!” Lorcan whispered in Grace’s ear. Grace smiled. Her thoughts exactly.

  “Oh, Lorcan,” she said, excitedly. “We’re nearly there! What a journey it’s been . . . now we’re almost at the gates.” She looked up ahead. “Can you see?” As the words left her mouth, she could have kicked herself. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean . . .”

  “It’s okay,” Lorcan said. “Don’t upset yourself, Grace. Why don’t you describe it to me so I can borrow your eyes to see?”

  “There are gates made of iron,” she said. “They’re twice as tall as you, I’d say. There are spikes along the top and below is an intricate circular pattern, a bit like a clockface or sundial. It’s very beautiful.”

  And that was how they came to the end of their journey — Grace describing the ornate fretwork of the vast iron gates lit by torches as they finally arrived at Sanctuary. Until they reached the gates themselves, and Grace fell silent. Suddenly the magnitude of their journey caught up with her. It wasn’t just a question of how far they had come but the importance of what lay ahead. This was the place that would decide Lorcan’s future — a future which she already felt was as deeply entwined with her own as the thick mountain vines were within the iron fretwork of the gates. It was impossible to separate one from the other.

  5

  ANOTHER KIND OF DANCE

  Above the dance floor, where Connor even now turns his partner, is the row of curtained booths where those wanting — or needing — privacy can go. As the tango music starts, all the curtains are closed. But the melody soon pierces one of the booths. A pale hand reaches out and gently pushes back the velvet curtain. Just a fraction. Then a nervous eye leans into the gap, glancing down to the checkered floor.

  The sight of the dancers is heartbreaking. There is little finesse in their steps, but there is so much life down there. So much life in their faces and limbs. The papery hand, the nervous watery eye, would do anything for a drop of that life.

  Three pairs of the dancers are familiar. Of course they are. And it is as if they are flaunting their aliveness before his eyes. Once, he would have been down there himself, but now something much stronger than a velvet curtain separates them. They are on one side of it, striding and twisting across the floor. And he is on the other side, reduced to the role of watcher.

  The sound of footsteps. A voice — high and light — from outside the other end of the booth.

  “May I come in?”

  He has barely formed the word “yes” on his cracked lips, when the curtain opens and a serving girl pokes her head into the gloom.

  “Good evening, sir. Are you in need of something to drink?”

  He nods. Yes, he thinks. How well she puts the question. Yes, he is very much in need of something to drink.

  She is watching him, waiting for more of an answer. She watches him, but she does not truly see him. How can she? It is pitch dark inside the booth.

  “Your candle is out, sir. Here, I’ll light it.”

  “No,” he says. “No, I don’t like . . . fire.”

  But his words are too slow and her hands are too swift. The candle is lit and now it grows and glows inside its glass. He shivers at the sight of it.

  “You need something to warm you, sir. Look, you’re shivering.”

  “What do you recommend?” he rasps, trying to keep
the edge from his voice.

  She shrugs. She has no idea of the danger she is in. “We’ve got everything you could wish for here. Rum, beer, wine . . . your choice, sir.”

  He looks at her. She’s a pretty thing. A memory stirs. But he cannot be sure if he remembers her for herself or if she just has a certain look. Lately, this has been happening a lot. Faces merge. He finds it hard to distinguish one from another. That’s why he must act before it grows worse. He glances down at the dance floor once more. The music comes to an end and the dancers hug, congratulating themselves and each other on their prowess. After the merest pause, the tango begins anew. The partners swap but the dance continues. He lets drop the curtain and feels water in his eyes.

  “Are you all right, sir?”

  So, she’s still here. Part of him wants to tell her to get out, to run away. But, of course, he does not.

  “Yes, I’m . . . all right.”

  “Are you sure?” She steps closer to him, leaning in. “You look so pale. Like you’ve seen a ghost. I think maybe a brandy . . .”

  “Yes,” he says. “Yes, there’s an idea. Fetch me a brandy.” Let her go. Let her go, and he will take his leave too — before anything happens. Before any line is crossed.

  The candle flickers. She slides the candlestick along the table. Now, for the first time, she sees him properly.

  “It’s funny,” she says. “You look so like someone I used to know. Well, not know exactly. Someone who came in here. Awful popular he was. A pirate lad.”

  “Really?” He wants her to go. He doesn’t want to hear this. And yet he does. He needs her to stay.

  “Yes, sir. You’re his spitting image . . . you could be his twin.”

  A twin? He smiles at the thought.

  “Terrible sad it was,” she continues.

  “What’s that?”

  “Terrible sad, what happened to him.”

  “What did happen to him?”

  “Killed, sir. Killed in a duel on a pirate deck, they say.”

  “A duel.” The word sounds so noble. Not like his memory of that day. The hot sword. The unleashing of his blood. The life gushing out of him. The dying of the voices around him until everything was cold and silent and lonely. . . .