I hustled across the port landing deck where the Sieko waited. I couldn’t wait to leave the realm, but something was unnerving about the ship when I saw it. It looked like a prison ship. It bore the shape of a black stone knife, and there were no portholes. Red light and freezing cold air spilled out of the open cargo ramp. I stepped into a line of other voyagers leading up the ramp. Something befouled my nose like the sour funk of a dead animal.

  “Papers and reference letters,” grumbled a thing at the desk off to the side.

  His voice was like the crackle of two stones when you rubbed them together in your hands. He was a rock, ten times my size, at least, with broad shoulders, looming over me like a bolder with two thick arms and legs that wore a yellow, wooden, smiley mask. I handed him my reference letters and the small, leather-bound booklet containing my papers.

  “Lift your sleeves,” he said, and I showed him clean forearms.

  His cold, hard hand snatched my papers and dropped them into an open trunk at his feet.

  “Urm,” I said, pointing at the trunk. “You’re keeping my papers?”

  “Holding them. For safekeeping. I’ll add the pertinent information during the voyage and give them back when we make port.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just call me skipper,” he said.

  “You’re the skipper?” I said.

  “Aye,” he said. “I keep no first mate. Have you any problems on board you bring them to me. I’ll see to them troubles personally and get you squared away. Consider me at your service.”

  “Thank you, skipper,” I said, my tail wagging and my ears perking. “That’s really something.”

  The skipper’s words were kind as the guise carved into his mask, but he had shadows beneath his empty eye sockets.

  “You’ll check any weapons you have,” the skipper said, pointing at a second open trunk full of weapon rods. “You’ll get them back when we make port, or if the need be during the voyage.”

  “I’ve no weapon.”

  “Very well, then. Step to it and join your mates.”

  “Aye.”

  The hold beyond the open ramp was empty, save for the crew of masks that filled the red-lit space. The deck was gritty under my toes. I could see little apart from the red light. It was a unique vessel, though not one I would want to spend a lot of time on. The hold was a bit crowded, and I looked forward to being shown to more suitable environs for organic creatures. It was cold in there. I had the strangest feeling something terrible was about to happen. The other crew chatted casually. I kept to myself, leaning up against the bulkhead. I saw a brown grizzly wearing a friendly, blue iron mask. He was almost as large as the skipper.

  “Hey, how are you?” he said, shaking his paws as he walked through the crowd. “Good to see you. Welcome aboard. It’s going to be a good voyage.”

  The other mates seemed happy to see him. He walked up to me.

  “Who are you?” he said, his large nose sniffing at me curiously.

  “Burgeon.”

  “Teddy,” the grizzly said, offering his paw. His shake was gentle and warm, wrapping around my whole fist. “Where are you from, Burgeon?”

  “Weeping Wallows.”

  “A sad port, if you don’t mind my saying.”

  “No, I don’t mind. That’s why I left.”

  “I think you’ll be happier here on board the Sieko.”

  “You’ve crewed under this skipper before?”

  “No, but I’m confident he won’t lead us astray.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I just am. You’re part canid? The stink of this port must be driving you crazy.”

  “Okay, mates,” the skipper said. “That’s all of us. Let’s load, and make ready for liftoff.”

  “Aye!” the crew said, and we started moving the crates stacked outside from the cavern floor to the cargo hold. There was something about Teddy. I felt safe around him and was glad he was with us.

  “What the hells is in these?” one of the mates said, struggling to lift a crate.

  “Provisions,” the skipper said. “I know they are heavy, but get them onboard. We’re going to need them. Won’t want any of you mates going hungry.”

  It took four able-bodied voyagers to lift one crate and haul it up the ramp with much labor, though Teddy had little trouble. He lifted crates by himself that took four of us. Once all the crates and masks were aboard, we locked the capstan pegs and pushed closed the cargo door.

  “I hope chow is going to be soon,” one of the mates said. “I’m starving.”

  “Anyone know the way to the cabin?” another said.

  Several voyagers slumped against the bulkhead, exhausted from loading. My hands shook at my sides. I was famished and thirsty.

  “Where be the skipper?” someone said. “Let’s get ready to make way.”

  The locks snapped as though they were bewitched, startling every mask on deck. Our balance was thrown in the dim red light as the ship floated away. I felt a clunk, clunk, clunk beneath my feet as the landing anchors were stowed.

  “What the hells!” someone shouted.

  “Who be crewing the ship if we’re all locked in the cargo hold?”

  I pushed my way through the crowd of masks to stand next to Teddy.

  “What do you make of this?” I said.

  “It’s a bit dark in here,” he said.

  I followed Teddy over to an unlit lantern on the bulkhead.

  “Anyone got a match?” he said.

  I took a box out of my pocket and handed it to him. He struck one and lit the wick. The added red light glowing from the lantern didn’t help much. I caught another whiff of that stench I smelled when I first came on board. I thought there must have been a dead cockrat under the deck or in a vent somewhere.

  “That cargo was hefty for simple crew provisions,” Teddy said, moving over to one of the crates.

  Teddy jammed his claws into one of the wooden lids and pried it open. Then he went to another crate and did the same, and another, and another. He held the lantern over one of the open crates, and everyone peered inside.

  “Rocks?” they said.

  All the crates were filled with stones.

  “What do you think they’re for?” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Teddy said. “But I’m sure there’s a good explanation. They must have some purpose, or the skipper would not have made us load them. The crew’s provisions must be in one of the other holds.”

  “He said these was the crew provisions,” someone else said.

  “He must have been mistaken,” Teddy said. “There must be a good reason.”

  “Who permitted that lantern?” the skipper growled from the shadows.

  All the masks looked around. We couldn’t see him.

  “Who be the one that lighted it?” the skipper said. “Who it be?”

  “I,” said Teddy. “I lighted the lantern. Most of your crew don’t see in the dark.”

  “Insubordination it be,” the skipper said, stepping away from the bulkhead as though he’d been standing there all along.

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  “What?” Teddy said.

  “Insubordination, I say!”

  “A thousand apologies, skipper. I meant no offense.”

  “Apologies,” the skipper said. “Then you admit that you insulted me?”

  “What? No, sir, I…”

  “String him to the support!” the skipper said.

  The crew looked at one another dumbfounded.

  “Well?” the skipper roared. “You’d best follow orders, or I’ll flog the lot of you one by one! Shackle him, now!”

  He couldn’t flog us for any reason he wished. I could smell mutiny, and the ship was barely off the ground.

  “Five lashes you get for your crime,” the skipper said.

  “Did you hear Teddy say anything offensive?” a mask said behind me.

  “Nay, I heard nothing,” another said.

  “Shh!” another snapped. “He’ll hear you.”

  “This ain’t the law!” someone said in the back. “There was no insubordinations made.”

  “Everyone be quiet!” Teddy said. “Don’t make it worse. I’ll take the lashings if it puts the skipper’s mind at ease.”

  Teddy took the pair of shackles hanging on the bulkhead and handed them to me. Then he walked through the gaggle of voyagers and hugged the center support beam.

  “Do it, Burgeon,” Teddy said.

  I wanted no part of it. Everyone turned, surrounding me with artificial faces that glowed in the dim red light.

  “Come, Burgeon,” Teddy said.

  I did as I was told. I clapped Teddy’s paws in the irons, securing him to the strut, and stepped away. The skipper stood at the far end of the hold and uncoiled his whip, tossing it the length of the deck, where it landed at Teddy’s feet. He drew back on the handle and lobbed it forward.

  “One,” he shouted as the first crack was delivered.

  “Two!”

  Some voyagers took their masks off, wishing not to sense what was happening. Our eyes were on the deck at our feet, our ears low.

  “Three!” the skipper shouted with glee in his voice.

  I saw a couple floggings when I crewed aboard the Hearth. It was an ancient tradition that I could not understand. There had to be consequences for crimes, sure enough, but flogging someone’s flesh on an already dangerous voyage made no sense, especially considering how many succumbed to infection afterward. A flogging could be a death sentence.

  “Four!”

  Teddy was the only one I’d ever seen who didn’t yell out and struggle from the agony of the whip. There was no pout upon his muzzle, just a lonely tear dripping down the face of his friendly iron mask. It smelled like a tear of anger, not agony or self-pity.

  “Five!”

  Relief coursed through the voyagers standing beside me, thankful it was over. They placed their masks back on, and a couple moved forward to unshackle Teddy. But it wasn’t over. We were thrown back when the wicked whip careened the length of the deck, finding its target between Teddy’s shoulders.

  “Six!” the skipper shouted as blood spattered his smiling yellow mask.

  He drew the whip back and continued.

  “Seven!”

  Masks calling out in protest and waving their fists.

  “Eight!”

  They shouted louder.

  “Nine!”

  Teddy roared in a rage, struggling against his bonds. He clawed and splintered the support strut.

  “Ten!”

  There were open lash wounds in his fur. Blood began to pool at his feet and spray the masks and stone bulkheads.

  “Eleven!”

  “Stop it! someone shouted. “Stop it now!”

  “Twelve!”

  A gaggle of masks formed a huddle and stood before the skipper, who pushed them back against the bulkhead with his stone arm.

  “Thirteen!” he roared happily, delivering another lash.

  Teddy flailed wildly, his roar piercing the ear, his claws snapping as he scraped the support strut.

  “Monster!” someone said.

  “I’m gonna rip your head off and stuff it in the furnace!” Teddy roared.

  “Fourteen!” the skipper shouted.

  Groups of crew members jumped on top of the skipper, trying to prize the whip from his stone fist. The skipper brushed them off like dust, then delivered another lash. There was no way we would take down the skipper without weapons or Teddy’s help, exhausted as we all were from loading the cargo.

  One of the crew lunged for Teddy’s shackles. The skipper bound down the deck and lifted him off his feet by the scruff on his neck. A trap door popped open, and the skipper dropped the mate down the hatch. The creature fell into the dark expanse, and the trapdoor slammed shut. The skipper roared with laughter and returned to his place on the other end of the deck. The lashing continued.

  Teddy died. The skipper delightedly continued whipping his corpse until it was no more than a pile of dead fur and flesh under the support strut. We stood helpless, numb and defeated. Eventually, the skipper coiled his bloody whip and strolled up to Teddy’s corpse, bent down, and ripped one of the claws from his lifeless paw. He unlocked Teddy’s shackles and popped open another trap door. The reek of what must have been a hundred corpses filled the hold. I gagged, and almost lost my guts. The remains fell into a crawlspace below, and the hatch slammed shut. The skipper walked away, ogling the claw.

  “Y-y-yessss,” he said, stroking his tiny trophy.

  The skipper disappeared in the dark. We couldn’t tell if he’d gone or was still there, waiting invisible against the bulkhead listening.

  “We must find the weapons,” someone later said, breaking the silence.

  “Ssh!” someone said. “He’ll hear.”

  A mask came forward. He was about six cubits tall, with flowing green hair, fair green skin, and pointy ears. He smelled like a spring forest.

  “I am not going to die on this ship,” he said.

  “Thirty ships I’ve crewed aboard,” someone else said. “And never been ordered to surrender my hilt.”

  “Or my papers,” another said.

  “Or seen someone flogged to death for no reason,” another said.

  “Aye.”

  “The skipper stashed the weapons in a trunk,” the green creature said. “Find it.”

  Masks scoured the hold, looking for the crate, but it was nowhere to be found. Nor was the crate where our papers and letters were stashed. It was probably dropped down one of those secret hatches.

  “Where could it be?” the green creature said. “Did anyone see the skipper stash it somewhere or carry it away?”

  “Nay,” several masks said.

  A hatch on the far bulkhead slid open with a bang. A white light shone from the entrance. We followed it, filing in, entranced, hoping to relieve our hungry bellies. The hatch slammed shut as soon as everyone was in and the light went out, leaving us in total darkness. Several masks went into fits.

  “We’re doomed!”

  “Let us out!”

  “You’ve no right to hold us hostage!”

  “I’ll pound you into dust when I find you!”

  I pressed my back against the bulkhead.

  “Hold!” I heard the green creature shout. “Calm yourselves. Gather your courage. Feel up the bulkheads for a switch or a lever.”

  We did as he bade us but with no success. The chamber appeared to be an enclosed tomb that none of us had the strength to crack.

  “No way out,” someone cried.

  “I’ve heard stories,” someone said. “Stories about rocks from the Abyssiq Deep that murder their crew. He’s one of them; I swear he is. He’ll kill us all.”

  “We don’t know that story is even true,” the green creature said. “Get ahold of yourself.”

  I heard a screech, and red light flooded the chamber from the overhead. The rock appeared above us. He’d removed his mask, revealing empty eye sockets like voids above his cheeks. He picked up the terrified voyager by the head, broke him with a snap, and dropped his lifeless body to the deck. Then he grabbed the green creature and hauled him up by the arm, disappearing when the overhead trap door slammed shut, and the light went out.

  The mates panicked and called out in horror, pounding on the bulkheads, flailing about, and fighting against one another. They screamed and scratched and bit. I did what I could to protect myself, tucking my wings and arms. I stood back against the bulkhead, dodging, ducking, and moving when one of the deranged masks came toward me. It went on like that for a long time, painfully long, until the crew ran out of energy and collapsed from exhaustion.

  “Are we going to die?” someone uttered next to me.

  “Yes,” I said.

  The chamber fell silent, except for the green creature’s screaming that we could faintly hear vibrating the stone bulkhead. I have no idea how long we were locked in that chamber. Thirst. Hunger. Exhaustion. Everyone was startled awake when someone would scream in their sleep. I’d had nothing to eat since the Withheld, and nothing to drink since the tavern in Thirsty Taints. I hoped I would die before the skipper had his way with me. He would appear from time to time, snatching the crew one by one. The more he killed, the more time the survivors spent with their hands clasped before their lips, praying. Obviously a waste of breath, as most of them were already dead.

  “Down on your knees!” the skipper said, appearing in the trap door above us, and the crew did as they were told.

  “I’d like to start my morning with a beheading?” the skipper said as though he were ordering breakfast. “But who to choose? There are still so many of you left.”

  The mask next to me clasped his tentacles, tightly wound around one another in a spiral, and started to pray. Tears streamed down the front of his mask. Even without hope, they wanted so badly to live. I thought maybe I could give them a little more time.

  “Take me,” I said.

  “Shh!” snapped the mask beside me, bumping me with his elbow.

  “Take me!” I said again, standing up.

  “Who said that,” growled the skipper, his empty gaze snapping in my direction.

  I pushed through the group of kneeling creatures.

  “I said take me! If you have the stones.”

  Fear pinched my stomach, but I pushed it down. I stood tall. We all had to die somehow.

  “Just get it over with!” I said.

  “You want to die, boy?”

  “I don’t care anymore. You’re gonna kill me anyway. Might as well be now.”

  I still have no idea what came over me, but I squared off before the skipper, glaring into his empty eyes.

  “Don’t look at me!” he said, refusing to gaze at me in return, but I refused to look away.

  “My name is Burgeon. I am a creature of the Loyal Trench. If you want to kill me, you’ll do it on my terms.”

  A sense of calm washed over me as I realized I was in control, not him. My words were to be my last will and testament. Any survivors would report this incident to the port authority when the ship arrived.

  “Don’t look at me!” he roared.

  The skipper balled his fists so tight I could hear them cracking under the pressure. My ears were drawn behind my head. I took my mask off.

  “Eyes on the deck!” he said.

  My gaze remained fixed on his empty sockets.

  “Stop looking at me,” he said with a quiver in his voice.

  This was my death. He was going to look me in the eyes if he really wanted to kill me. I would not cower. I would not die standing in a pool of my own fear. I would die with dignity. Moments passed. The rock raised his fist, threatening to strike, but never did. I could smell a frustration, which soon gave way to fear like booze on his breath. The crew looked on silently. His expression changed. The pity he suddenly felt for me ruined his pleasure. He couldn’t kill me. The skipper disappeared, and the trap door slammed shut.

  “How’d you do that?” the crew whispered.

  “You’re a magician?”

  I was as confused as they were. I didn’t know what had happened. I was ready to die and fully expected the skipper to oblige. I thought about what had happened until the crew fell asleep again. Then, a notion occurred to me. We could survive. I just needed to get the crew to follow my instructions.

  “Wake up,” I whispered, stepping between sleeping bodies. “I know how we’re going to survive the voyage. Everybody wake up.”

  The crew gathered around me, eager and ready to hear what I had to say. I was surrounded by masks and began to address them.

  “Okay,” I said once everyone was rousted. “I know the skipper’s weakness. I can save us.”

  I felt a hard footstep on the deck behind me. Before I could turn around, something hard and cold grabbed me by the scruff on the back of my neck and jerked me off my feet. The skipper! I tried to turn and look into his eyes, but his grip on the back of my neck made it impossible for me to turn around. The crew gasped in horror, fleeing to the other side of the deck. The skipper’s grunts were a wind passing through a fissure. A trap door opened under me. I fought the fear rising in my gut, knowing what would come next, but it was too late. The skipper dropped me. I fell through the hatch before I had time to spread my wings. The ship’s underbelly shrunk as I fell. The last thing I saw was the rock skipper’s twisted face through the open hatch, roaring with triumphant laughter.

  *******

  What would you do in the company of a stone psycho? Run? Hide? Stand up to it? Let us know in the comments!