Chapter 27

  As Jonathon reached the top of the railing and vaulted over to the deck below, there was a shift in the storm around him. All at once, the skies went silent, the rain stopped, and the sea went calm. It was as if someone had snuffed out the candle that was the storm. As far as any of them could see, there was no storm. The wind itself had come to a complete standstill. Not even a light breeze had been left behind to linger.

  As the remnants of mist settled back to the calm sea below, Jonathon surveyed the ship. The darkened wood was just as he’d seen it in his dreams! The sails and the riggings rocked gently back and forth in the breeze, no sign of rust or rot to be seen. Toward the bow, the doors that would lead to the forecastle of the ship; toward the aft, the doors that lead to the quartermaster’s cabin. If the intricacy of its design was any indication, Jonathon couldn’t wait to see the captain’s cabin.

  The rest of the crew stood in awe as they took in the sight of the legend that had been myth no more than just an hour ago. They finally looked to him, afraid to explore anything that Jonathon had not already looked over first himself. Jonathon smiled and said, “Well, lads, let’s check her hold, shall we?” Smiles crossed their faces as they followed him below deck.

  Unlike his own ship, the first two decks below the main deck were dedicated to housing the ship’s cannons and artillery. Ryden marveled at the sheer size of many of the cannons stored. Just as it was on the main deck, every cannon onboard was spotless and free from any rust or wear. Jonathon’s joy overshadowed the fear that would have normally accompanied this strange discovery. As far as he was concerned, whatever had kept these things in good condition before now had been chased off with the storm when he had claimed her as his own.

  The third deck was the orlop deck, housing many of the ship’s cables and ropes. One section was cordoned off for the galley. There also appeared to be a small space in the aft of the ship dedicated to treating the sick and wounded. Again, all of the materials here looked as if they had been bought yesterday.

  As they descended to the fourth deck, Jonathon froze in his steps. Aside from the powder room, provisional storage, and ballasts, the entire deck was dedicated to the storage of plundered goods. As Jonathon looked through these goods, he wondered if he would ever need anything ever again. Everything he could possibly think of was already housed in this deck. Cloth? Check. Cutlery and dishes? Check. Fine clothes and dresses? Check. Resins? Check. Furs? Check. Precious metals? Check. Everything his mother had told him about when he was a child. As Jonathon opened a chest towards the aft of the ship, his eyes grew wide. Before him was a pile of gold coins and jewels the size of a man’s hand–larger than any he had ever seen. He opened the chest next to it and found it, too, was filled with the same gold and jewels, as were the six other chests around it. Cries of joy, and many tears, erupted from the men onboard. There was no doubt they would never have need to work another day in their lives.

  “Well lads,” Jonathon said, “looks like she’s all here. What say ye we bring a couple of these chests over to the Mother’s Myth and show the rest of the crew a fraction of the booty we’ve found?”

  More cheers came as the men gathered around two of the chests. It took six men to each chest to be able to move them, but eventually, they all found themselves back on the main deck of Mother’s Myth, ogling the treasure that they had brought over.

  “I genuinely can’t believe there’s even more left!” Cass exclaimed to Jonathon.

  He smiled at her and teased, “Not too bad for ‘some wild goose chase,’ huh?”

  She smiled back, “Not too bad at all.”

  “All right, lads,” Jonathon said, turning back to his crew, “I say it’s about time we get back to our new ship and begin our journey back home. It’ll be hard with the crew we have, but with some luck, we should be able to sail her back to Brightstone. What say ye?”

  “Aye.” They all cheered.

  As they made their way to the ladders, Naomi approached him again. “Captain, may I request to stay with the new captain aboard the Mother’s Myth?”

  “You may not,” Jonathon answered flatly. “We’re both going to be operating with barely any specialized crew as it is. Beckett and Cass can handle things on their own here, but I need you with me. You’re new, but you’re the best option I have for a quartermaster, so you’ll be coming with us.” He paused to look at her fearful face. “Come now, Naomi, you can’t mean to tell me you’re still scared after all this? The storm is gone. We’ve walked the ship and come back alive. Whatever ‘curse’ your people believe haunts this vessel, it’s clearly gone now.”

  “Curses do not disappear like clouds on a sunny day, Captain Harding,” she replied, “and neither do storms.” She looked around at the sky, as if studying it would tell her where the storm had gone.

  Jonathon placed his hand on her shoulder. “Look, Naomi, you’re coming. That’s final. Don’t worry, we’re heading straight to Brightstone from here, okay?”

  Naomi, fear so severe her eyes were lined with tears, slumped her shoulders and said, “Please, Captain, please just make sure I get home. I was foolish to have disregarded my grandmother’s warnings. I just wish to return home now.”

  Jonathon squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, “Hey, come one now, Naomi. It’s okay. I know it’s scary, but I’ll get you home safely, okay? I promise I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  No response came from her as she began climbing the ladder back to the deck of The Spectre. Jonathon could see the poor girl’s hands were still trembling. Honestly, a few days aboard The Spectre and she’d be fine, he thought to himself. She just needed to see that her fears were unfounded.

  He followed her up the ladder. Once back on the main deck, he looked over the railing to Cassandra, “I think we can go ahead and disconnect the ladders and lines. Wouldn’t want to scuff up your new ship, would we, Captain Reeves?”

  She smiled and said, “Aye, Captain Harding.” She began ordering the skeleton crew, a mere ten men, that would be left behind to disengage from The Spectre.

  “Feel free to go ahead and start making your way back toward Brightstone,” he called out to Cass as the men began working on the lines. “We’ll be right behind you!”

  “Are you sure?” Cass asked, concerned.

  “Aye, we’ll be fine,” Jonathon said with a smile.

  Cassandra returned his smile. “Aye, Captain. We’ll see you back in Brightstone.”

  “Alright,” Jonathon called out as he turned to face the fifty crew members in front of him, “everyone find yer positions. We’ll be runnin’ our own skeleton crew here fer the time bein’, but we’ll make ‘er work. Ryden, you and yer boys join Dryden and help with the sailin’. Naomi,” he turned to face the young woman, “come with me. We’ll observe everything from the quarterdeck.”

  She nodded solemnly and followed Jonathon up the companionway.

  “Now, once you get a feel for your duties,” he began, “you’ll be down on the main deck like Cassandra is. Until then though, I want you up here with me. After all, you’ll also need to start observing some of the duties of a captain. Being my second-in-command, the responsibility of leadership will fall to you should any misfortune or illness befall me on our journey back to Brightstone.”

  Jonathon stood from the quarterdeck and looked back out over the deck below. She was a marvel to behold. Her rigging and sails swaying in the breeze. The men moving about, getting ready to loose her ropes and sails.

  He turned back to the helm, his finger tracing the intricate design along each of the handles. As he studied the design, he felt a sense of familiarity. Suddenly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the piece he had grabbed from his cabin. The designs certainly looked similar. He began searching the wheel for spots that the piece may have chipped off from. Finally, he found a divot in one of the handles. Delicately, he slid the piece into place.

  It fit!

  Excitement flooded Jonathon. In reality, it meant absolutely nothing, but how cool was it that he not only found where the piece came from but that the piece was from the helm itself?!

  He looked over the helm one more time, and as he took control of it, a thought occurred to Jonathon: how is the rigging swaying if there is no breeze?

  Too late.

  Horror struck as Jonathon watched the rigging come alive. He tried to call out a warning but found he was unable to speak or move. The ropes reached out, slithering through the air like serpents in the grass, and wrapped themselves around the necks of every man below him. He tried to close his eyes and turn away but found he was unable to do even that. He stood helplessly as he watched Ryden, Dryden, and the remaining forty-seven men struggle against the strangling ropes. He watched as they kicked and clawed at the rope. Watched the desperation in their eyes as they looked to their captain for help, only to see him staring at them, seemingly unaffected by their plight. Jonathon's heart pounded in his chest, helpless against the nightmare unfolding before him.

  Jonathon could hear distant screams as he saw the tempest resume in full around the ship. Despair struck as he thought of the rest of the crew he’d left aboard Mother’s Myth. Of Cass.

  He heard a sound behind him, as if someone was gasping for air. He found himself turning, or rather being turned, around to face behind him. Naomi stood, eyes wide with horror, feet outstretched, toes struggling to maintain their purchase on the deck beneath her, hands grasping the rope coiled tightly around her throat. Jonathon followed the rope to the entity standing behind her and his eyes went dark. The world around him disappeared into blackness save for Naomi and this entity. All sound was gone, save for his breath, Naomi’s grunts of desperation, and the entity’s slow, unnatural breathing.

  Jonathon studied the entity. Its body was tall and gaunt with elongated limbs. Its entire form was composed of dark, shadowy tendrils that somehow stood out amongst the black around him. The tendrils writhed and shifted as if they were alive, seeming to peel away from its body like wisps of smoke. Its head was elongated and irregular, with twisted, horn-like appendages that extended backward. Its arms were long and thin, ending in clawed hands that looked as though they could tear the flesh from Jonathon’s bones as easily as he could scratch an itch. Its face was a horrifying visage with a large, jagged maw filled with glowing, sharp teeth that extended back farther than any creature's mouth should. Its eyes were shaped in a similarly terrifying fashion. Both its eyes and mouth seemed to emanate a glowing orange light. Jonathon recognized the light as the light he had seen in the sea dragons’ and corrupted sirens’ eyes. He again felt a surge of familiarity that he couldn’t place. As he looked closer, he realized that the same light seemed to fill the entity from the inside, shining through the cracks in its dark exterior. Jonathon felt a seething emanating from the entity, a hatred so deep that the whole of the sea could be dumped into it and not come close to filling it.

  “Ah, so nice of you to join me, Captain Harding.” The entity’s maw twisted unnervingly, its voice resonating from every corner of the void around Jonathon.

  He tried to speak and found that, though his mouth couldn’t move, words were still produced. “Who are you? What are you?”

  The entity laughed a laugh that filled every ounce of Jonathon with despair. It was as if it had managed to take all of its hatred and malice and convey it in a way that was a laugh in name only. “I am The Spectre. I am the ship and the curse, the prize and the peril. The goal you’ve been so desperately chasing.”

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  Jonathon thought back to The Matriarch’s story and her words of warning, the figure he’d seen reflected in the compass underneath the ziggurat. He cursed himself for dismissing their warnings as superstition. “What did you do to my men?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” it said, almost bored. “I killed them. Oh, they made a fine meal. It’s been so long since I’ve feasted on the souls of humans. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now.”

  Jonathon stared in horror. “Th-Their souls?”

  “Yes,” it goaded, its eyes squinting with sadistic glee, “and how delicious they all were.”

  “Wait,” Jonathon said, desperate to make sense of everything, “I thought you couldn’t take the soul of someone without them offering it to you first?”

  The entity’s eyes widened as its smile grew. “I suppose you’re right…but what is it to offer one’s soul? Take you, for instance. Weren’t you willing to do anything to take control of The Spectre?

  “Every decision, every ambition, every time you disregarded the warnings–it was all an offering. Your desperation, your hubris, your unwavering belief that you could tame me–it was all I needed. And your men? Didn’t they swear themselves to you and your cause? Did they not swear their lives to you and your decisions? Did they not yearn for the treasures aboard my ship just as much as you? Do you think William Lancaster’s men all individually offered me up their souls? No, ‘offering one’s soul’ doesn’t need to be anything so specific and direct. Sometimes, overzealous desire or devotion can be more than enough.”

  “L-Liar,” Jonathon said, “that can’t be true.”

  The light from within the entity flared. “Don’t be so dull as to resort to such predictable and facile remarks,” the entity hissed, its voice a chorus of tortured whispers. “Unfortunately,” it tugged on the rope attached to Naomi’s throat. Her feet flailed helplessly in the void for a moment before finding slight purchase on what Jonathon assumed was still the deck, “it seems as though this one wasn’t completely devoted or committed to you or your cause. There’s much resistance in her, but I’ll break her soon enough. Oh what a sweet taste a broken soul makes,” it added, its voice shuddering with sadistic anticipation. It leaned in closer to Naomi until its mouth was right next to her ear. “Go ahead, give up. Surrender to me. Surrender and your struggling will end. Your suffering will end. Your fear will end. All you have to do is give up.”

  Jonathon watched helplessly as tears streamed wordlessly down Naomi’s face. The entity turned its attention back to Jonathon. “Oh, how I do love to season the soul before it breaks. Once I finish with her, then I can move on to the rest of your crew trying so desperately to escape. A futile attempt, really, even if they did have a slight head start. I may not be able to take their souls from here, but I can certainly terrorize them all before I kill them.”

  Dread lurched through Jonathon again as he thought of Cass back on the ship. Had she been able to get away? Gods, was she preparing to board The Spectre? He had no way of knowing. He hoped she would be smart enough to leave though. If she was fleeing, he’d need to try and buy her as much time as possible.

  “So, you can take souls without them being directly offered to you, but you can’t take them if they’re not physically on the ship. Sounds pretty limited if you ask me,” he said, trying to muster up as much courage as he could and project a haughty air to hopefully not bore the entity.

  The smile that was too wide for its face returned and it said, “A decent observation. You’re not exactly what I’d call clever, but at least you’re able to put two and two together. Though, I know your memories, you were pretty much given that information, so maybe it's more like you’re able to put one and one together?

  “These are only temporary setbacks. All I need is more power, and such petty things as permission will matter naught to me.”

  “How would you know my memories?” Jonathon asked, his heart sinking at the entity’s claim. “Are you able to read my mind?”

  The entity shrugged, “Not really. Though I don’t need to be able to read minds to predict the actions of humans. No, any time our minds were linked, I was able to sift through your memories and gather the information I needed.”

  “Minds linked?” Jonathon asked. “When did our minds link?”

  The entity smiled cruelly and said in a familiar voice, “Every time you saw my face, my sweet boy.”

  Jonathon stared in horror as he realized why the glow had seemed so familiar. Before him, holding the rope in a delicate hand, stood his mother. Her smile was warm, her eyes glowing orange from behind a kind and understanding visage. “We’ve been linking minds almost every night for a little over a year now.”

  Jonathon’s mind reeled. The Matriarch’s words suddenly echoed in his mind, “There are, however, inhuman spirits that prey on the weakness of mortal minds, preferentially by appearing to us in the form of lost loved ones.” Had he really fallen for such simple tricks? “A year?” he heard himself ask. “How? Why?”

  “The why is simple,” his ‘mother’ continued in a voice that curdled his own memories of the woman. “I need a captain to take the helm.”

  “Let her form go, demon!” Jonathon strained out. “And if all you need is a captain, why all the obstacles? Why the sea dragons? Why the storm?”

  The entity’s form shifted back into its unknowable form, and Naomi’s gasps continued as the height of the rope increased. Jonathon felt an immediate wave of regret. Before it could answer, he said, “And let Naomi go. Please. You’ve already taken my men, let her go. Why continue to torture her?”

  The entity smiled again and said, “So many demands from one who can’t even move without my permission.” Its eyes shifted to Naomi’s struggling form, the fear in her eyes vast as tears streamed down her wordless face. “Souls aren’t the only thing I can feed on. Panic. Fear. Dread. Despair. These all make for adequate snacks along the way. And as I said before, an offered soul can mean many things. Surrender is another means of offering, is it not? All I need to do is break her.” It brought its face closer to Naomi’s and Jonathon could hear a deep inhalation coming from the entity as though it were breathing something in. “Besides,” it said with a shutter, “her despair is just so…palatable.”

  It turned back to Jonathon. “To answer your previous question though, it takes a lot to helm my ship. I need a human with an indomitable will. Finding a suitable captain requires a suitable test, wouldn’t you agree? One you passed with flying colors by the way,” it added, its voice a disgusting mixture of genuine pride and vicious mockery.

  Jonathon felt confusion, anger, loss, regret, guilt, hopelessness, and above all, despair. Why? Why had he been led to this? The Spectre was supposed to be the answer to his troubles in life, not the end of them.

  That sickening ‘laughter’ filled the space between them. In an instant, that space closed and Jonathon found himself staring deep into the creature’s face, its demonic internal glow an endless abyss of agony and pain. Despite the burning glow from within the entity, Jonathon felt a rush of bone-chilling cold envelop him at the entity’s sudden closeness. He heard the deep inhalation, and the entity spoke. “Oh, but what delectable despair you produce as well. Such a variety of emotions to choose from. Your questions waft off you like rot from a decomposing corpse.”

  It took a step back. “Very well, I suppose you deserve something for making it this far. In terms of why this is happening to you, it’s happening because I willed it. Well, because I willed it and because you were stubborn enough to ignore every single sign and warning you had along the way. Honestly, I was beginning to worry you’d actually listen to them at some point. Thankfully, the pull of your blood was too strong.”

  The more ‘answers’ the entity provided, the more confused Jonathon felt himself become. “What do you mean ‘the pull of my blood’?”

  “Well isn’t that obvious?” the entity snided. “Your Lancaster blood, obviously. I may not need a willing soul to take it, but since the original pact I made was with Billy Lancaster and his blood, I am unfortunately tied to that lineage. Oh, it’s been a long century of waiting, but thankfully, your line is quite proliferative. Would you be surprised if I were to tell you that you weren’t the first of your relatives to try and reach me?”

  Jonathon’s confusion continued to grow. With each increasing interaction with the entity, he felt his mind becoming foggier, slowly burdened by whatever this thing was doing to him. He stammered desperately, “B-But I have no relatives. And my mother had no siblings. My name isn’t even ‘Lancaster,’ it’s Jonathon Harding!”

  “Maybe I was wrong about putting one and one together…” the creature muttered. “Your Lancaster blood doesn’t just cover you and your mother. Billy Lancaster’s daughter was born nearly a hundred and forty years ago. Daughter, I would emphasize, by the way. You know, the one whose name changes when they get married. You, Jonathon Harding, are the great-great-grandson of dear Anne Lancaster. Oh, they tried to escape the curse, but each generation experienced the pull of my call. All it took was a significant enough loss, and I was able to lure them to me. They all knew the story of The Spectre, but you were the only one to completely ignore its lesson like you did. The others required so much more manipulation.”

  Within the growing fog of Jonathon’s mind, the entity’s words conjured a memory, one unaltered by the entity’s influence.

  ~~

  “...is not the point of the story, darling,” his mother interrupted. “The point is that neither vengeance nor a ship overflowing with gold is enough to overcome mismanaged grief. What happened to Captain Lancaster was a terrible tragedy which no human should have to endure, but by giving in to his grief and his hatred, he squandered the sacrifice his wife made on his behalf. And though he terrorized the sea for another forty years, he never lived another day after his wife died.”

  She smiled warmly at her son, her pale hazel eyes wrinkling on their edges as understanding finally began to dawn on his young face. Then his face scrunched, and he said, “But Mom, you said you had to tell me a story about our family. What does that have to do with us?”

  Her smile weakened as she said, “Unfortunately, it has everything to do with us. You see, you and I are both descendants of William Lancaster.” Surprise lit Jonathon’s young face as his eyes widened. “And because of this,” she continued, “our family is cursed, my sweet boy. We all feel the call of The Spectre pulling us to it, but you must resist it!”

  Jonathon smiled confidently, “Don’t worry, Mom. No stupid ship will stand a chance against me! I’ll take her over and break whatever silly curse there is.”

  ~~

  Jonathon’s mind returned to the present. “She tried to warn me?”

  The entity ‘laughed,’ “Oh yes, frequently. At first, she was adamant and steadfast in her warnings, and you, well, you were convinced you could break the curse and take the treasure. Eventually, she feared her denial of its pursuit was worsening your obsession, and she decided to try a more subtle approach. Unfortunately for you, all this did was cause you to further brush her concerns aside. By the end, all you could see was the treasure. All it took was a slight manipulation of your memory, the small remnant that had subconsciously held you back all these years, and your path was set.”

  The fog had almost completely encapsulated Jonathon. He could barely keep his thoughts in the present.

  “Ah,” the entity began, its eyes widening with excitement, “it looks like we’re almost out of time.” It turned to Naomi. “You’ve been a delectable treat, my dear, but I’m afraid I have pressing matters to attend to.”

  Jonathon watched helplessly as the entity slowly raised its hands. Naomi’s feet kicked out and began to flail, desperately searching for anything. She clawed at the rope around her neck, blood beginning to coat her fingertips as she tore strips of flesh away in her desperation. Eventually, her attempts grew weaker and weaker until her body went limp. The creature ‘laughed’ again and let her body fall–limp and broken–to the deck.

  It crossed the space between the two of them again, slower this time. As it approached, it reached out its hand to Jonathon and said, “I’ve appreciated this talk, but I think it’s about time we set sail, don’t you Captain?”

  It reached out its clawed hand and grabbed Jonathon by the head. The darkness around Jonathon thickened, swallowing him whole as the entity’s touch burned through his mind. He felt his senses slip away, his consciousness fading into the void as The Spectre claimed him.

  In his final moments of awareness, Jonathon could hear the roar of the tempest around him. In the final moment before the darkness consumed him, all Jonathon could see was Cassandra. I hope she gets away, he thought.

  As Jonathon’s thoughts faded, the entity whispered one final, mocking truth into his mind. “You wanted to captain this ship, Jonathon Harding. Now you always will.”

  With orange eyes that glowed like the burning embers of a fire, Jonathon turned and grasped the helm. The Spectre, now fully awakened, steered her own course, her new captain bound to her will, forever lost in the shadowed depths of her curse.