The Great Cabin,

Three loud thuds reverberated on the heavy wooden door, creaking the thick door frame and making the ironmongery flex and fill the room with a hundred distinct tones of metallic clattering. Each sound absorbing into the oak and larch of the great cabin. Leaving only the roar of the ocean and distant shouts and moans from the crew, working the deck outside.

Captain Kre’nene looked up from his seated position behind his desk, his eyes sunken and bloodshot red, hidden behind deep circles of black. He paused for a moment, before answering the knock at the door and took a long drink from the tankard in front of him, wiping the spillage from his matted beard with the back of his hand. The drink glazing his eyes over, disguising the weariness from within them.

“What is it! What do you swines want?” Captain Kre’nene barked, his voice rough as if the words were being chiselled out from rock.

“We have the stowaway Captain, as you asked.” a not so sure voice responded from the other side of the door.

The sounds of distant voices yelled and roared louder as the ship sunk to one side. Barrels and stacked boxes tumbled in the captain’s room as candles swung in their restraints. Water seeped in from small seams and cracks in the wooden walls as the ship righted itself, the vessel moaning as her supports took the weight.

Captain Kre’nene straightened up further in his chair. Either the drink was working or the news of his visitor’s arrival was revitalising his body. His eyes focused as he pulled his lip over his teeth, a grimace spreading across his face.

“What are you swines waiting for, bring him in? Don’t have me waiting any longer. I ordered him here five bells ago.” Captain Kre’nene snorted. He hadn’t. It had been less than two bells, but that wouldn’t keep the swines outside on their toes, he thought.

The wooden door swung open and a gust of fresh salty air whisked around the great cabin, flickering the candles in their holders, the light dancing off the walls as the wet musty air inside blew away. Two larger than average crewmen stood in the doorway holding up the body of a half-naked young man.

They fastened weathered metal shackles to each of the young man’s wrists. His arms were stretched above his head, held by rusted chains, secured to each shackle, like a pose one might make if diving into the ocean. Except here, the young man’s head hung limp. There was no grace or conviction. His feet twisted to one side, scraping his knees and shins along the damp wooden floor, as if a dead carcass was being pulled from the slaughter.

“Sit him there,” Captain Kre’nene ordered, pointing to a chair on the other side of his desk. “Make sure his bindings are tight, I reckon this one is as slippery as an oiled up Faye.” The Captain eye’d the two crew men with a look of loathing and disgust. “He must have been to get past you two fools. How dare you let him on my ship!.”

Captain Kre’nene glared at the two crew men as they dropped the young man into the chair. The larger of the two crewmen walked behind the chair and placed his hands on the occupant’s shoulders, pushing down, and pressing him into the chair. The other crewman removed one shackle from the young man’s right arm, fed it through a large metal ring that bolted to the floor and clasped it back onto the young man’s wrist, locking him in place.

Captain Kre’nene sniffed the air with satisfaction, a smile of wicked pleasure on his face, showing just a fraction of his yellow teeth. He was intending to have some fun with this stowaway. It was another four days to Caelmion and what better way to pass the boredom, than with a good old bit of torture. But first he was going to find out all he could about this stowaway, every little detail, every little secret this young fool had, and of course, why he was on his ship.

“Get out, you swines,” Captain Kre’ene shouted, turning to the departing crewmen and adding. “One of you, bring me a bucket of the lady’s wet breath. It blows a gale outside tonight and if she doesn’t have ice in her veins, let Hydrous himself strike me down. Hurry! Don’t have me waiting again.”

The two crew men scrambled faster out the door, one returning in mere moments with a bucket filled with icy sea water. He placed it next to the chair with the young man in it, glancing up at Captain Kre’nene, as some water spilled onto the floor. The Captain snarled at the crewman, even though he never noticed the spillage. Looking sheepish, the crewman bowed his head and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The captain took another drink from his tankard, finishing the contents, his beard catching as much as what went in his mouth, making it glisten in the candle light of the room. He let out a refreshing yawn and neglected to clean himself this time.

“So what have we here?” Captain Kre’nene said to himself, enunciating each word as he looked at the young man sitting in the chair. He was young, mid twenties, maybe younger. Slim but not skinny, muscle shaped the rags covering him. He had dark black hair that ran in waves to the base of his neck and not one hair on his face. A mother’s boy you could be, but that scars not going to do you any favours, the captain thought as he chuckled to himself.

The captain stood up, using the table to steady himself as the ship rocked once more and started walking around the table towards the bucket of icy sea water. He reached out his arm to grab the bucket when the young man lifted his head up, turned to face the captain and smiled.

The captain’s nostrils flared, part because of the smiling fool now looking at him and part due the fact he’d wanted to wake this young stowaway with a taste of the ladies wet breath. He wanted to startle this young stowaway. He wanted to see the shock turn into dread at the realisation of his current situation. Now though, the moment lost, spoiled by this smiling idiot.

“I take it you are the captain?” the young man said with more confidence, someone in his position should have. “I take it, it is you, I should thank, for the hospitality?” The young man said, displaying a row of pearly white teeth. “You, captain, have a mighty fine ship here. Does she have a name?”

The captain walked backwards around his desk, not taking his eyes from the young man, and sat back down in his chair. The captain hesitated for a moment, his face hardening as he thought. This half-naked, chained stowaway should be at his wits end. Yet here he was, calmly asking about the ship as if he was a welcome passenger.

The ship sank again, the room growing dark as it blew the candles, teetering on the verge of extinguishment. A flash of light filled the room as an enormous boom roared from every direction. More water made its way in, several puddles now joining on the floor, covering the last dry spots of any timber.

The candles regained their flame, illuminating the great cabin again. The captain shrugged away his feeling of uncertainty and answered, trying to match the young man’s confidence.

“I am Captain Kre’nene, and this is my vessel, the might of the oceans, the sword of the sixteen seas, the Lady Val’shar. You, my friend, are her newest prisoner. I, Captain Kre’ene, am the one that is in control of her, and now, am in control of you. Now tell me, boy! What’s your name? What are you doing on my vessel? Who gave you permission to set foot on my ship? Lastly, and the most important thing for you right now, is for you to tell me one good reason I should just not feed you to the sea beasts and have done with you? Be quick about it and don’t lie. Or the sea beasts will be the least of your worries.”

The young man kept on smiling at Captain Kre’nene, unphased by the captain’s questions or threats. The ship creaked and moaned as if the bones of the Val’shar, twisted and stretched. As the ship’s moans became softer, the young man’s grinning smile relaxed into a more natural one and he looked about the great cabin, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

He was in the captain’s personal quarters,, a room no bigger than that of a comfortable inn. Barrels littered around the edge of the room, several candles in crude metal frame boxes hung from the framework. The flickering of the candles making the shadows from the barrels dance around as if a fire of black and orange raged on the walls..

A large desk covered with maps and plates of half eaten food filled up most of the room with two chairs, one either side. Behind the captain, a row of narrow windows ran across the top of the wall just before the ceiling started. The rain was obscuring the view from outside, only a small dim light, some distance away, peered through. Water poured in from the seals around each small window and ran down the wall, soaking into the wood and making the wall look much darker than the rest.

A storm was raging outside and the great cabin was feeling the effects. It was as if it soaked the ship, from the inside out, there was not a dry piece of timber. The fresh air that had filled the room only moments ago was now returning to the musty smell of damp.

“My name, of course, how rude of me. You can call me Racs. As for your assumptions and questions, I have but a few caveats. First, I am not a young man. In fact I would say I am at least twice your elder, give or take a year. I know it may seem not to be that way, but I assure you, it is true. You should be mindful of that fact.” Racs said as he pulled slightly on the chains binding his arms. “Second, you are not in control here, far from it, to phrase your good self, the most important thing for you to know right now is, I am not your prisoner, you are mine.”

The Captain roared with laughter, and slammed his hands down on the table several times, knocking a plate of dried bread to the floor and causing one map to dart across the table as it rolled up. The laughing turned into coughs as the Captain tried to catch his breath. He heaved in several long breaths and brought his hysteria under control.

“Well haven't you got a massive pair, boy. Might even be big enough to string you up by,. But not just yet, no. First, I’ll have you tell me, old man, is it?, Why do you think you are not a prisoner, yet I chain you to my deck? I am sitting here, sword at my side, with 100 men at my disposal. Does this not prove who is in charge?” The Captain said, pulling his sword from its sheath and placing it on the desk. His fingers strumming the hilt.

“Like my age, Captain, not everything is as clear as it first seems.” Racs answered. “Not everything in this world, and others, is what they first appear to be. Maybe, if I tell you how I came to be on this ship, why I’m sitting with you here now. It might shed some clarity on the situation. Illuminate you from the shadows and you could see for yourself.”

The Captain filled his tankard, leaned back in his chair and swung his legs onto the table, sending another dish crashing to the floor. He ruffled his fingers through his beard, pinching his lip between thumb and forefinger. His eyes narrow in contemplation. After a few moments, he lifted his sword and pointed it across the table at Racs.

“Very well, old man. Tell your story. But I warn you I am bore easily, so make it a good tail, don’t make me regret my charitable disposition. Or I will string you up. I’ll have you hung at the mast for the rest of the voyage. I’ll give every one of my men five free lashes with the whip on your naked body.” Captain Kre’nene drawled, his voice dripping venom, his mere words enough to poison you.

The ship rocked from one side to another, becoming more rhythmic, Racs pulled a little harder at his chains. The sharp jagged edges of his shackles digging into his wrists. Blood ran down his hands and fell to the floor, getting washed away with the sea water that washed in from under the door.

Racs kept on smiling at the Captain, there was no sign of discomfort on his face. “I doubt you will have heard of such a story as this, Captain. I know it ypul be entertained. In fact, I dare say you’ll be dying, to hear how it ends before long.” Racs said as he let his hands fall, the tension on the chain easing, and sat back in his chair.

“My story, Captain, starts not at the beginning of my life but at the end. Far away in a different world, or perhaps a different time, where a thousand languages were spoken, yet not one word is ever whispered now, in all of Tallium. My story is of an old man, cursed or gifted, I’ll leave it for you to decide.”

“I could have died tomorrow and I would have been happy. Happy with the life I led, that is. I’d had everything a man could want and a few things he didn’t. I’d fought other men’s wars and won. Loved, been loved in return and lost. I’d shaped my path and was proud of my life's direction.

“Like I say captain my story starts the day I died. It was much like tonight, raining…”