by Dean Cadman
“Although I doubt anyone truly knows what horrors Aamon would unleash on the world, I think it’s safe to say that we can’t afford to let it happen—no matter what the cost. So, with that in mind, I’ll make my first request, Captain. I need to speak in private with one of your crew members. I believe he knows the location of an island that I need to find.”
Captain Waylon shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, I’ll even order him to give you whatever information you need, if I ’ave to.”
“Thank you, Captain, but I don’t think your orders will count for much in this instance. The man I need to speak with is Lamar.”
“Lamar!” Captain Waylon spat. “He doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone where to find your island.”
“I know, Captain, but I’m hoping to be able to change that. I believe that I might be able to repair Lamar’s mind using my magic. Or at least I might, if there’s still enough of it left to repair.”
Captain Waylon cursed under his breath. “You said that you needed two things from me, what was the other?”
Lusam nodded. “Yes, Captain. And what I must ask of you next is no small favour. I understand from Byron that you have a consignment to deliver after you leave here today and that you’re on a tight schedule.”
“Aye, ’tis so,” Captain Waylon replied, glancing over at the harbourmaster suspiciously.
“Then what must I ask next, will be even more difficult for you. If I’m able to retrieve the information that I need from Lamar…” Lusam started to say, but was cut short by Captain Waylon.
“You’ll need my ship to get to your island.”
Lusam nodded and waited for his response.
“Aye, I’ll take you there. I can always deliver my consignment on the way there, providing it’s in the same direction, of course.”
“And if it’s not?” Lusam asked, knowing that they could ill afford any kind of delay. Captain Waylon paused only for a moment before replying.
“Then I guess Baron Tolfree’s consignment of timber is going to be very late indeed,” he said, grinning widely.
Lusam smiled back, but he knew he hadn’t yet given him the full details. “Thank you, Captain, but there’s one other thing that you should know before making your decision.”
“Oh… and what’s that?” Captain Waylon asked suspiciously, suddenly looking slightly worried.
“I’m afraid I have no gold to pay you with this time. You’re welcome to what little I have left, and I can promise you payment later…”
Captain Waylon roared with laughter as if Lusam had just said something hilarious. Lusam had expected a negative reaction from him once he knew that he wouldn’t be paid for his trouble, but he had never expected open ridicule such as this, and was quite taken aback by it.
“That’s a ‘no’ then, I take it?” Lusam said, over the laughter.
“What?” Captain Waylon replied, trying to calm himself down. “No… of course I’ll still take you. You didn’t really expect me to charge you for it, though, did you? Not after what you’ve already done for me, not to mention everyone else in Freeport. Seven Hells, Lusam, I bet you could walk out of that door and yell for a ship, and every Captain worth his salt would come running to your aid. And I wouldn’t want to be in the shoes of any that didn’t. What say you, eh, harbourmaster?”
“I couldn’t agree more, Captain,” Byron replied, grinning.
“Thank you, Captain Waylon. You’ve no idea how relieved we are to hear you say that,” Lusam replied. “I don’t mean to pressure you, Captain, but time is very much against us now. The lives of the men and women currently defending The Rift are in grave danger the longer we wait. Is there any chance that we could sail today if I’m successful in retrieving the information from Lamar’s mind?”
Captain Waylon whistled in surprise. “I’m not sure about that, Lusam…”
“Yes, he can,” Byron interrupted.
“Harbourmaster?”
“Even before you docked, I gave instructions that your ship should take precedence over all others. Your cargo will already be loaded, along with enough food and water for an extended voyage. You see, even though Lusam wasn’t certain that you’d help, I was confident that you would do the right thing.”
“Oh… you were, were you? And if I had said no?”
“Then your papers would have been rescinded, your ship unloaded, and another ship would have taken your place. Like you said, there wouldn’t be any shortage of volunteers,” Byron replied, grinning widely.
“You’re a hard man, harbourmaster,” Captain Waylon said, half in jest.
“Hard, but fair, Captain,” Byron corrected him.
Captain Waylon nodded his appreciation towards the harbourmaster, and Lusam and Neala shook his hand and thanked him for everything he had done for them. Lusam quickly retrieved the few items that Byron had stored for them in the walk-in cupboard, then headed towards the door, but even before he reached it, Byron called out to him.
“Lusam… is Renn… is he at The Rift now?”
Lusam nodded slowly. “Yes, he is. And so is Alexia, too.”
Byron paused a moment, then replied, “Then there’s nothing left for me to do, but wish you favourable winds and kind seas. Go… and may Aysha be with you, lad.”
Lusam smiled and gave him a slight nod, then turned and disappeared through the doorway after the others.
***
The Pelorus looked mostly unchanged, apart from the fresh timber which had been used to make repairs to its rails and deck, after it had been damaged by the Empire’s magical missiles the last time they were onboard. As they approached the gangplank the ship’s quartermaster called out to them in greeting. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Lusam and Neala again and shook their hands vigorously whilst thanking them for what they had done. Then almost as an afterthought, he reported the ship’s status to Captain Waylon. As Byron had promised, the Pelorus’ cargo had already been loaded, along with a large quantity of food and water for their potential voyage. The warm welcome didn’t end at the gangplank, either. Every crew member was there to meet them with enthusiasm as they stepped onto the ship’s deck, each one calling out his thanks and gratitude to them both—all except one: Lamar.
It didn’t take Lusam long to spot Lamar mindlessly swabbing down the foredeck, and he looked even older than he remembered. His unruly silver hair and stubble made him look unkempt, and his dark wrinkled, wind-beaten skin only served to emphasise the ancient appearance of his ice blue eyes.
“He’s got even worse lately, ya know,” Captain Waylon said, startling Lusam out of his reverie. He came to stand by Lusam’s side and looked across at Lamar with a hint of sadness on his face. “He originally came to the Pelorus having been dismissed from his post as first mate aboard the Eventide. The Captain there accused him of dereliction of duty, a crime aboard ship worse than any other, apart from mutiny, of course. What he did, or didn’t to do to earn that distinction, nobody really knows. Sure, there were rumours within the fleet, there always are. Everything ranging from the theft of ship’s property to him being drunk whilst on duty, or even assaulting the Captain. But one thing is certain, it earned him a harsh new life on the streets of Fairport. No Captain would take him aboard their ship again, nor any warehouse employ him due to his tainted reputation. He had spent years on the streets by the time I found him.
“I inherited the Pelorus from my wife’s father, and if I’m honest, I didn’t have a clue what I was doing when I first acquired her. To say I was ‘green’ would have been a huge understatement. My father-in-law had been ill for a long time, and his crew had long since gone to find employment elsewhere. I literally had to start from nothing. No crew. No clients, and most importantly, no reputation to gain them by. It’s no secret that the best Captains in the fleet often attract and keep the best crews.
“Eventually I managed to source a crew, of sorts, and amongst them was old Lamar over there. They were a scurvy, undisciplined lot,
fit for nothing better than guttin’ fish and drinking ale—all except for Lamar. I heard the others whispering about him behind his back, and kept a close eye on him, just in case even a fraction of what they were saying about him was true. But what I saw, was a man who knew far more about sailing a ship than I, or any other man aboard for that matter. I made some discreet inquiries around town about him and discovered that he once captained his own ship until he was usurped by the ship owner’s nephew. Apparently, he refused to serve under the man, and that’s how he found himself as first mate aboard the Eventide.
“Having learned that information, I reluctantly made him my own first mate, which as you can imagine didn’t go down too well with the rest of the crew. Several crew members quit that first day, followed by a handful of others over the next few days. But the few who remained were soon brought to heel by his strict, but fair hand. And his expertise was soon clear for all to see, gaining him the respect he deserved amongst the crew. He took what were little more than a bunch of drunken misfits and turned them into a half-respectable crew. Now don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade a single man aboard the Pelorus today, for that entire crew back, but I will say this—without Lamar, I wouldn’t have had a crew at all, nor a ship for too long.
“Instead, the Pelorus quickly built a reputation within the fleet for its punctuality and fair prices, and soon gained a solid clientele base to go with it. By the time Lamar came to speak with me at the end of that first year, I’d already begun to notice several lapses in his memory. They were only small things at first, such as failing to remember a conversation we’d had, or not remembering to sign an occasional document. So, when he came to me and explained about his random lapses in memory, it didn’t really come as much of a surprise to me. He said that he fully expected to be dismissed as first mate that day, but I respected his honesty, and more importantly, for the first time I understood why he’d been relieved of his position aboard the Eventide. He hadn’t done anything wrong after all… well, not knowingly anyway. We both agreed that day, that he would continue to serve as my first mate for as long as he was able. That was twenty-two years ago, and he’s been deteriorating ever since.
“The original crew were gradually replaced by better men, and Lamar never officially stepped down as first mate—he just simply appeared to forget his duties one day. I don’t know what went on in that head of his. Some days he seemed completely normal, whilst others he couldn’t be reached no matter what I said or did. I always suspected though that during his… more stable moments, that he knew exactly what was going on, and also knew that I’d replaced him as first mate—but he never once complained, or even brought it up in conversation.”
“And you’ve kept him onboard the Pelorus ever since?” Neala asked, suddenly seeing the old man in a different light.
Captain Waylon turned to look at Neala, as if he’d forgotten she was there, then began to chuckle to himself. “Actually, during those first few years, I had him thrown off my ship twice. Once for almost setting the ship ablaze when he dropped an oil lantern, and a second time when he incited a riot amongst the men with what he said. Trouble was, from the moment old Lamar’s feet touched the dockside, to when we returned three weeks later, we had nothing but bad luck aboard the Pelorus. You name it, and it happened. The weather seemed to set itself against us the moment we left port, and never let up until we returned. We sprung several leaks in the hold, ruining the cargo we had onboard, and even the mainmast split almost in two. By the time we returned to Fairport there wasn’t a man aboard not calling for me to reinstate old Lamar. And the second time I sent him packing was no different. Since then the crew has adapted and accepted him for what he is. They might tease him a little now and then, but they watch out for him all the same—as do I.”
“Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll certainly do my best to fix him,” Lusam said, still watching the old man swabbing the deck.
Captain Waylon grunted. “There isn’t a man aboard who deserves it more,” he said, almost in a whisper. He cleared his throat, then turned back to face Lusam. “Would my cabin be sufficient for what you need to do?”
Lusam smiled and nodded at the Captain. He obviously cared a great deal for old Lamar, and Lusam hoped desperately that he could help him—for everyone’s sake.
Chapter Eleven
Captain Waylon held the door of his cabin open for Lusam and Neala to enter, then told them to make themselves comfortable whilst he gave the order for Lamar to be brought there. Nothing much had changed inside the cabin since the last time they had been there. It still held the various pieces of expertly crafted dark wooden furniture as it had before, complete with their ornate inlays made from exotic woods and fine metals. And the small crystal chandelier still graced the ceiling above them, but many of the wall hangings had been replaced by new ones. Lusam remembered thinking that the old ones had been luxurious, but their replacements were positively ostentatious by comparison. It was good to see that Captain Waylon had indeed prospered since giving up his gambling habits, Lusam thought to himself, as he studied one of the oil paintings in more detail.
They heard the commotion out on deck long before the cabin door opened. Lamar was screaming like a stuck pig by the time he was manhandled into the Captain’s cabin.
“Calm down Lamar, no one’s gonna hurt ya,” Captain Waylon said, pointlessly. It was obvious that Lamar had no idea what was going on, nor could he understand what the Captain was saying to him. He struggled and thrashed around trying to escape the grip of two other crew members, but his withered frailty was no match for the two much younger and fitter deckhands holding him. Lusam had no idea if it would work, but he attempted to calm Lamar down, in the same manner he would a wild animal, by using his magic to project a feeling of safety and security towards him—but it seemed to have little or no effect. Whether it was because his magic affected animals differently from humans, or Lamar simply didn’t have enough of his mind left intact to respond, he didn’t know.
“How long is it likely to take you?” Captain Waylon asked, over the desperate screams and wails of Lamar. If anyone outside was listening it would have sounded like he was being tortured.
“To be honest I haven’t a clue,” Lusam replied, “but I know that I won’t be able to work on him whilst he’s struggling like that.”
Captain Waylon gave Lusam a considered look, then after a moment’s hesitation went to his desk and opened one of the drawers. He took out what looked like a cosh and moved towards Lamar with it.
Lusam’s eyes went wide when he saw what the Captain was about to do. “Wait!” he called out over the ruckus and quickly stepped in front of him.
“It’s for his own good,” Captain Waylon said.
“Not if you kill him it isn’t. Besides, I already have enough damage to repair, without you adding to it,” Lusam said, holding out his arms so the Captain couldn’t reach Lamar. He lowered his cosh and stepped back away from Lusam.
“Then what do you suggest?” Captain Waylon asked, dropping the cosh back into his desk drawer and closing it. Lusam looked around the room for a place where he could comfortably work on Lamar, but only one place seemed suitable: Captain Waylon’s desk.
“Would you mind me using your desk to treat him?” Lusam asked.
“No, of course not. Would you like me to send for some rope so we can tie him down?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you, Captain.”
Captain Waylon removed several ornate cut glass decanters from his desk, along with various charts and books, then nodded towards Lusam.
“Okay, I’m going to put him to sleep now, so don’t drop him,” Lusam said to the two men holding Lamar.
“Aye sir, don’ be frettin’ ’bout dat. He be no ’eavier ’an the clothes on ’is back,” one of the men replied in a thick accent. Lusam looked over at Neala to see if she had understood what the man had just said, but she only shrugged at him.
“I’ll take that as a �
�yes’ then,” Lusam said, placing a hand on Lamar’s shoulder. He quickly located and tapped into Lamar’s small reservoir of magic, then drained all but a tiny fraction of it into himself. Lamar immediately blacked out, slumping forward in the men’s arms, and the room was plunged into an almost eerie silence.
“Don’t just stand there, get him on the desk,” Captain Waylon ordered.
“Aye aye, Capt’n,” both men said in unison, lifting Lamar clean off his feet and onto the desk with ease. Captain Waylon nodded to the two men and they quickly left his cabin to return to their other duties aboard ship—no doubt after they’d informed the rest of the curious crew about Lamar first. Captain Waylon waited until the footsteps outside had faded away before speaking, and it reminded Lusam to erect another soundproof barrier around the room.
“What did you do to him?” Captain Waylon asked, curiously.
“Do you remember when I took some of yours and the crew’s magic outside Prystone?” Captain Waylon nodded. “Well, I just did the same thing to Lamar, except I took almost all of his magic.”
“Will he be alright?” Captain Waylon asked, looking at the unconscious form of Lamar.
“Aside from a nasty headache when he wakes up, he should be just fine.”
