Scourge of the Seas of Time (and Space)

by Catherine Lundoff

  The witch’s eyes burned red for a long moment and Maeve felt the huge deformed tree beside her shift and move its roots. She heard the vines creeping up behind her, the soft hiss of the plant coiling around itself towards her. She didn’t turn around, refusing to react. She kept her eyes steady on the swamp witch and tipped the pistol very slightly, preparing to fire. The magick left the witch’s eyes. There was a thud behind Maeve as the huge vines dropped to the ground, sounding far too close for comfort.

  “You got guts, girl,” the witch hissed. She batted the pistol away from her head with a gnarled hand and sat up. “Get that thing away from me.”

  Maeve tucked the weapon back into her belt and rose to her feet, reaching out a hand to the swamp witch, which, after a moment of hesitation, she took. The creature was smaller than on first appearance. Her face was yellowed like a dying leaf and her hair was a nest of straw laced with grass and lichen. She wore a gown of sorts, woven from moss, and it hung over her shoulders like a thin blanket.

  The witch stretched out her arm and opened her palm. Thin roots began to grow from its centre, knotting and twisting themselves over and over until they formed a small ornament in her hand. The knot was smooth and deep brown, the colour of swamp mud on a summer’s day. It was quite beautiful. “Take it. Whoever you choose to cross these lands, have ‘em bring my token. I will sense them. Bring token and blood. You will be allowed to travel.”

  “You have my gratitude, witch,” Maeve said. The swamp witch grunted and began to shuffle away. The thick shrubs and vines opened up around her.

  “Morag. Not witch. Morag,” she said. Maeve gripped the token tightly and as the marsh swallowed Morag completely, she raised her hand in farewell

  Maeve turned to leave, idly wondering how the hell she was going to get back to the Starling. Henry sat in their piroque just a few paces away. He quickly rose to his feet, his mouth hanging open in wonder.

  “How...what...how...?” he stammered.

  “I thought I ordered you to get out of here!” Maeve snapped. Henry closed his mouth and then shrugged.

  “Couldn’t leave you behind, Miss,” he said shyly. Maeve raised her eyebrows and climbed into the boat.

  “Your own damned fault if you’d been killed, then,” she said.

  Henry sat down and took the oars, but rested them in his lap, unwilling to move. “You must have powerful magicks Miss,” he said with some awe.

  Maeve shrugged. “Not really,” she said. “Unless you count knowing all the lore around these parts.”

  Henry shook his head in wonder. “But how’d you stop her, Miss? She was going to kill you! When I saw all them creepers going after you...”

  Maeve stared out across the bayou and watched the water slip back into stillness. Insects droned low over the water and she spotted the dark shadow of an alligator swimming purposefully towards the bodies of the dead. “Not everyone is the enemy, Henry,” she said softly. “She was just defending her territory. Much like we defend our own.”

  “But Miss, she had magic!” Henry stared at her reverently.

  Maeve dragged her eyes away from the beauty of bayou and scowled at the lad. “Was just nature,” she snapped. “ And we got ourselves a new ally, provided we got the blood to sacrifice for it.”

  “Powerful ally to have then, Miss, if she wants blood.” Henry positioned the oars and then guided the boat out of the shallows and turned it around. “We going back to the Starling? What you going to say to Captain Stuart?”

  Maeve gazed over at the deformed black tree and ran her fingers over the wooden knot she’d been gifted. They’d lost eight crew members, a dozen crates of supplies and would return back to the Starling empty-handed. Captain Stuart would likely lose his temper and she’d be under his thumb forever more. She suddenly felt very tired. Siding with Captain Stuart was no longer advantageous, she realised. If she’d gotten to the swamp witch sooner, she might have saved more of the crew. The guilt gnawed at her gut.

  It was time she took on more responsibility. It wasn’t just enough to look after herself. Most of the crew came from the wetlands—it was time she looked after them too. God knows Captain Stuart wasn’t interested in doing so. While he still captained the Starling, whether it be from the deck or the local flophouse, none of the crew were getting a fair deal and it was about time that changed. Maeve grinned slightly. Maybe there was a way out from under his thumb.

  “Everything alright, Miss?” said Henry, watching her carefully.

  “I was just thinking on your question,” she said. “What are we going to say to Captain Stuart?”

  “He’s going to be spittin’ feathers when he sees us come back,” Henry said nervously. “I ain’t looking forward to it, that’s for sure.”

  Maeve studied lad with more care. He was lean, but a couple of summers on the water had strengthened him. He was loyal and knew how to make himself useful.

  “You don’t like Captain Stuart much, do you Henry?” she asked gently. The lad looked away, but nodded slightly and carried on paddling slowly with long smooth strokes.

  “None of the crew do, Miss,” he said shyly. “He’s too free with the whip and too stingy with the loot.”

  Maeve nodded slowly. “That he is.” she agreed. She leaned forward on the bench, resting her elbows on her knees and toying with the wooden trinket between her fingers. “I was thinking it was about time the captain made one of these river route runs himself,” she said, watching Henry carefully. “Maybe introduce him to our new ally.” Henry was quiet for a moment, pulling on the oars as though he could do so for days.

  “I don’t think that he’d come all the way out here,” he said, staring out over the water. Maeve waited, hoping she’d gauged the boy’s loyalties correctly. “You’d need to give him a good reason to make the run himself,” he said after a moment. He turned his dark eyes to Maeve and his gaze was steady. A smile twisted at the corner of his mouth. “Something that would convince him to make the expedition.”

  “Something like a decent hoard of gold that we happened upon?” Maeve said.

  “I reckon you could convince him, Miss.”

  “I reckon I could too,” she said. “And the crew?”

  Henry thought carefully and then shrugged. “Half of them’ll scarper and the other half would be loyal. What with you and your powerful magicks.” He grinned impishly.

  Maeve scowled again. “Weren’t no magicks, I told you that!” she snapped.

  “Well...they don’t know that.” Henry said. Maeve cast her eyes out across the bayou once more, a smile playing at her lips. The lad pulled on the oars and the wetlands swished softly against the hull.

  “You know what, Henry?” she said after a while.

  “What, Miss?”

  “I think you’d make me a very good first mate.”

  “Um. Thank you, Miss.”

  Maeve pocketed the wood knot and sat back in the base of the vessel. A snake slid smoothly across a branch above them and up ahead, a heron took flight, its wide wings flapping lazily in the hot bayou air. The piroque cut smoothly through the marshes until the cypress trees and hanging moss engulfed them completely.

  The Dead Pirate’s Cave

  By Soumya Sundar Mukherjee

  Present: Waiting for Dawn

  The dark waves of the great Indian Ocean crashed at the bottom of our ship. I lay on the gently swaying deck and listened to the sound of water. At a distance, the darker silhouette of the island waited for us with a silent malice.

  We were supposed to go there at sunrise, and, perhaps, never return.

  Captain Natwar walked past me, eyeing my shivering body with compassionless eyes. Pawan crawled by my side and asked, “What do you think will happen tomorrow, Sima?”

  Pawan’s fate was even worse than mine. As I was the inventor’s daughter, sometimes the crew members gave an extra bit of bread to me. But Pawan, a thin boy of my age, had to really earn his food by the sweat of his brow. And that was expected. Pirates w
ere never noted for their hospitality.

  I said, “The worst? We’ll die.”

  “But do you really believe that the treasure’s real?” he asked, his face glowing with excitement.

  I smiled. “What could we do with it if it is? Both of us are probably going to die in that forest or in the cave - either at the hands of the wild things in the forest or in an explosion in the cave or at the hands of that monster.”

  “The monster!” Pawan mused. “When I was serving ale to the captain and the first mate this evening, they were talking about it. The captain said that it was far more ferocious than a Royal Bengal tiger. He was the first mate of the notorious Captain Dash, you know.”

  “And then Captain Dash sealed the entrance with explosive booby traps,” I yawned. “Yeah, I know the story, boy. That’s what’s expected from a pirate to protect his treasure for the ages. I wish I could meet him for once.”

  “Meet Captain Dash?” Pawan stared at me as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “He was not, you know, one of the friendliest people. He was cruel, bloodthirsty and clever as a fox. Besides, he is dead. Why do you have such a deadly wish?”

  I looked at the dark island from our anchored ship. “I just want to ask him what exactly happened to my mom when they visited the island for the last time.”

  Past: Old Friends

  They came with two revolvers and one shotgun to our house and since Dad was incapable of moving, I had to open the door for the unwelcome guests. They replied in a civil manner by shoving a revolver on my face.

  “Don’t shout,” one of them hissed.

  “I won’t, I promise,” I said, trembling with fear.

  They had a big wooden case, but there was no way to know what was inside it. They carried it in and placed it beside the door.

  “Who’s there, Sima?” Dad asked from his bed.

  “Old friends, Alok,” said the one with a scar on his right cheek.

  Even from the door, I could see the shock in Dad’s face. But he promptly regained control of himself and calmly said, “Yes, that’s true, Natwar. Where’s the dear Captain?”

  Natwar gritted his teeth. “So eager to see old Captain Dash! Remember whom you buried in the island, Alok?”

  My dad’s eyes burnt with anger, but he kept silent in front of the three guns.

  The tallest one said, “We need your help with something, Alok.”

  “You? Need my help?” Dad laughed. “After what you did to me, do you still expect me to humbly serve you pirates with a friendly smile? No, Vipin, time has changed. You killed Ratna, don’t ever forget that.”

  “We didn’t kill your wife,” said the man with the shotgun. “Captain Dash took her to that cave. All of us were with you in the ship. Later, you recovered her corpse from outside the cave. Don’t you remember that? We didn’t kill your wife, man; Captain Dash did. You and Dash—both of you were mumbo-jumbo doers and the woman died because of your witchcraft.”

  Dad sighed. “It was not witchcraft, Satish. It’s called ‘science,’ but leave it; you’ll never understand.”

  “We do understand a little science, Alok, like you press a trigger and crack! You got a dead man. Enough for our business,” Natwar pointed his revolver at me and gestured. “Hey girl! Come here and don’t try to run, or your lame father here will take a bullet.”

  I came and sat beside Dad quietly, although my heart was beating very fast. Mom was killed by a pirate? Why hasn’t Dad told me anything about it?

  Dad could understand what was going inside my head. He put a hand on my shoulder, as if trying to say, “Don’t worry, I’m still here.”

  “What help do you need, Natwar?” Dad asked. “Where’s your captain?”

  Natwar said, “The rumour is that Captain Dash is dead.”

  Dad laughed so loudly that I started, just like the three pirates. “That’s why you’ve come to me, you greedy jackals. Now I understand it all. You want to visit the Cave of Treasures, don’t you? And who’ll be the new captain, Natwar? You?”

  Nobody answered his questions, but their faces told me that Dad was correct every time.

  Dad spoke again. “As you can see, old mates, I don’t have legs. I can’t go with you in your treasure hunt.”

  “We know that you can’t,” Vipin said. “We’ve decided to take a replacement.”

  All three of them stared at me and Dad shouted, “No!”

  Vipin smiled like a wolf, knowing that he had hit Dad in his weakest spot.

  I hated to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I said, “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll go.”

  Dad’s eyes were full of tears. I knew that he was afraid of losing me, but I had to do this. I couldn’t let them get an upper hand on Dad.

  Natwar said, “Do you remember, Alok, what gifts you gave to your friend?”

  Dad’s face darkened. “I know that I had friends whom I should never have trusted.”

  Natwar smiled and gestured to Vipin who started unpacking the big wooden case they had brought with them. The metallic right hand came out first, and then the torso. I could see the horror of recognition in Dad’s eyes.

  “What’s this, Dad?” I asked.

  “One of my greatest mistakes,” Dad replied.

  Shotgun Satish reverently said, “A dangerous piece of witchcraft—this thing, I say.”

  “Who’s this friend of yours?” I asked again, still looking at the unboxing of this strange thing.

  “Oh, you don’t know!” Natwar laughed like a demon. “Perhaps your father forgot to tell you about him. Why don’t you tell her his name, Alok?”

  I stared at Dad. His jaws tightened as he lowered his eyes and said, “Yes, Sima, Captain Dash was my friend.”

  Present: To the Island

  Morning arrived with the squawking of seagulls. The eastern horizon poured bright blood over the waves as the red sun gradually started moving upwards. On the deck, the sailors were getting ready. Captain Natwar and Vipin came to the place where I was standing with Pawan. Natwar said, “Pawan, this’ll be your test. If you fail…” He made a gesture of slicing his own throat.

  Pawan nodded. “I know.”

  Pawan had told me the story he had told to these pirates. The infamous Captain Dash spent his last days in his house. Captain Dash, a paying guest in Pawan’s household, had been suffering from a high fever and passed away recently. The little dagger-locket on the gold chain on Pawan’s neck had belonged to Captain Dash, every one of the pirates confirmed that. “The last gift on his deathbed,” Pawan said, “along with the directions to the cave.”

  Vipin said, “If you can’t lead us to the Cave of Treasures, boy, I myself will take the responsibility of flaying you alive.”

  Vipin was known for his unique ideas of torturing people. One of the crewmates once told me never to enrage him, for he enjoyed doing bad things to people.

  Pawan smiled and said, “I know what you’re capable of, Vipin.”

  I liked his courage in the face of imminent danger. Pawan smiled recklessly at me, and I could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. It’s good to have a friend who can keep a cool head in time of need. The thought gave me a little hope as I looked around us. The blue waves of the Indian Ocean were streaked with ever-changing white lines of foam. The morning air seemed so cold on the deck that I rubbed my hands together to keep myself warm.

  “Lower the boats,” Natwar ordered.

  Satish came over with his shotgun and nudged us from behind. “Get in the boats.”

  The two motorboats sped over the water to the island. The green of the island was very soothing to the eyes against the dazzling blue of the sea-waves in the bright morning.The sun was comfortably warm upon my skin. The whirring sound of the motorboat, the seagulls overhead and the waves under the boat—all of it made the journey quite pleasant, even though I knew that it was going to be just the opposite of ‘pleasant’ once we set foot on the island.

  “They say that the treasure consists of kilos of go
ld coins and jewellery,” Pawan whispered in my ear, the dagger-locket dangling from his neck as he leaned over. “All the loot that Captain Dash hid. Can you imagine how big that is?”

  Perhaps Pawan doesn’t know that a pirate’s gold is always stained with blood. The thought reminded me of Dad and I tried not to cry.

  Shotgun Satish came a little forward, probably to listen to what we were talking about.

  I said, “You know, Pawan, I’ve no interest in the treasure. All I know is that my father lost his legs and my mother lost her life because of this cursed treasure. I’ll be the happiest person on Earth if this whole thing goes to hell for good.”

  “A little girl on the ship is already a bad thing,” Shotgun Satish growled. “Don’t bring more bad omens by speaking ill of the treasure, I warn you.” He pointed his shotgun at me.

  Superstitious pirate! My heart was beating faster as we neared the shore. From here, we could see the yellow shoreline and the greenery behind it. At a distance, we could see the topmost portion of a brown hill with green patches that stood like a giant from fairy tales.

  Somewhere near that hill, Dad had buried Mom’s body.

  Natwar jumped on the low water and waded to the beach. Vipin went after him, an AK-47 slung around his shoulder. Shotgun Satish ordered us to follow, “Move, you two.”

  There was another man named Rahul with us. He was a short, bearded man with a long sword in his hand. Satish had told us that he was one of the finest swordsmen in all Southwest Asia. I wondered why they needed the swordsman when they had all the guns, but I didn’t ask.

  The beach was full of soft yellow sand. The forest waited for us beyond a mile from the beach. We could see the grey outline of the hill from here. In this forest, my Dad placed two… But I had no time to finish the thought.

  As we gathered on the beach, Natwar said, “Now, Pawan, show us the map again.”

  Pawan hesitated for a moment. Natwar said, “I don’t have all day, boy. When I tell you to show it to me, you show it to me. Remember, I can easily cut your hand from your shoulder and use it as my portable guide to the treasure.” He gestured at the naked sword in Rahul’s hand, dazzling in the morning light.