The Mariner

The new adventure series by C. Hamlin Otchy

Part I

The man rose at dusk. He came on deck. The wind picked up from the northeast and he hurried to raise the sail. No sooner was it up than it was engorged with wind, and the sloop shot off across the pink waters on a swift track into the sun.

From the ship wheel, a fine mist sprayed his face, leaving the taste of brine on his lips. In the distance he spied the first of the Apollonian Isles, looking quiet and wild. Even high on the vertical faces of the limestone cliffs, trees had somehow dug in, their roots finding purchase between the rocky slits. God knows what evil runs through that jungle in the dead of night, he thought. I hope I never find out.

But he already knew. He knew exactly what happened when you drifted too close after dark. The parting of the water, the ropes, a short raft ride then getting dragged halfway across the island so they can show the chief what they caught… They don’t want to talk. They don’t even want to trade. They only thing those heathens are interested in is hearing the high, lolling sound of your voice when they do unspeakable things to you... Christ. If it wasn’t for that Jesuit missionary, those noises would have went on for days.

The wind changed direction and the man compensated with the sails. The sky told him it would be a quiet night. In the west, the sun kissed the horizon, and the sea hemorrhaged orange and purple in a long, diffused triangle. A gull passed overhead, calling out to a ghost he couldn’t see. When it passed, he was once again alone with his thoughts and the sound of the waves lapping against the boat. Moments like this made the man wonder why he ever came back to land at all.

What the hell am I doing out here again, he said to the wind. He picked an overripe apple from the bag of fruit that hung near the wheel and took a bite, swallowing the worm with it.

“You must be a glutton for punishment,” Brooks told him in a pub the night before he set out. The old sailor thought it was his god given right to tell the man things he already knew. “You lose a goddamn eye looking for some slag, and you’re going back for more?”

Yep. But he couldn’t explain that to a moron like Brooks. Guy like that would never understand. It was more than a matter of attraction. This girl had done something to him… something unnatural. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even pay for it. Made no sense.

He finished the last bit of his apple and tossed the core into the waves. The moon was already up, though the light hadn’t disappeared totally from the sky. The wind settled down to a light breath, just barely enough to carry the small boat on its way. Yep, it’s going to be a beautiful night.

That’s when the first arrow struck the starboard side.