The Mariner

Exhausted and in pain, the Mariner lowered himself onto the stone. The wind was picking up and it felt cool against his skin. He turned his head into the breeze, tasting the salt in the air. Nearby, Pryce made a last few gurgling sounds as he died, finally leaving the Mariner alone in the dark with his pain.

He stayed there, unwilling to move and thus risk injuring himself, stretched out by the shore. And it was thus that the monks found him a little while later, lying prone next to an unarmed and very bloody corpse.

29. GETTING TO KNOW ALL ABOUT YOU

ALWAYS ERR ON THE SIDE of caution. That’s what the Mariner reminded himself as he was dragged through the overgrown foliage towards the central dolphin pool. It was a pity he hadn’t stuck by that maxim when the monks had found him moments before. In hindsight, he should have used the Mauser to keep them at bay until he’d had a chance to explain, but he’d been too relieved at having normal human company again. That was Grace and McConnell’s doing, he thought bitterly. In the old days he’d never have been so careless.

The Mauser now lay somewhere behind on that damn rock. He hadn’t felt the need to pick it up when they’d arrived, drawn to investigate by screams and gunfire. Only when hoisted to his feet by rough hands did he realise something was amiss.

Explanations tumbled from his lips, but a swift blow to the face silenced further pleas. Pryce had been popular and he a stranger.

Sighisoara all over again.

Except this time he didn’t deserve it! In Sighisoara he’d been a grave-robber and thief, the hatred justified. Here, he’d acted in self-defence! Were they not aware of the Mindless? Had they not seen how easily one could slip into barbarism?

Flaming torches lit their path, huge shadows cast amongst the trees. Monkeys, awoken by the commotion, began screeching in panic, and their voices were soon joined by the monks, as more and more were alerted to the congregation.

“Murder!” they cried, though soon the declaration of the act turned instead to broadcast of the accused. “Murderer! Murderer!”

The Mariner stumbled. Thinking he would hit the ground, he closed his eyes ready for impact, but found strange arms beneath his shoulders holding him aloft.

“Plenty of time to lay down later, you evil fuck!” snarled the man supporting him. The Mariner looked at him shocked, surprised to see someone who he’d only ever seen quietly meditating, now so animated with venom.

“Please,” he mumbled, but a woman leading the way turned and sucker-punched him, knocking all air from his lungs.

They emerged where he’d first been presented to Diane, and once again she was ready for him, though this time standing before her throne instead of reclining, ready to judge rather than rule.

“It is as I feared!” she declared. “What deed did this man do?”

The many responded. “He killed Pryce!”

“Shot him in cold blood!”

“Arthur, what happened?”

The Mariner turned and saw McConnell being held by two monks. Word must have spread quick.

“Mindless,” he managed to gasp. “Pryce turned Mindless.”

“Silence!” Diane bellowed, and the crowd complied. “Is this true? Is Brother Pryce dead?”

“It is. I saw his body myself,” the man holding the Mariner growled. “Shot and killed.”

She looked at the Mariner with cold reptilian eyes, and for a moment the Mariner was taken aback by what he saw. You shouldn’t have mentioned my book, they seemed to say with a petty jubilation.

“He came here to plot against us, to spread dissent,” she spoke with the smallest hint of a smirk. “He’s an agent of the demon, come to maintain the Déjà vu. I’ve suspected this for some time, as did Pryce.” She strolled along the bridge, coming ever closer to the Mariner. All watched her with awe and reverence. “But Pryce came too close to discovering this fact and you killed him, didn’t you? You thought you could contain your true identity, a secret sealed in blood! But you’ve been found out, demon-lover!”

You don’t believe a word of this, the Mariner thought as he looked into her eyes. But these poor bastards do, and that’s enough.

All around him the crowd began chanting again, though this time ‘murderer’ had been replaced with ‘demon’.

Diane was almost upon him now, smiling in her victory. He hadn’t realised how threatened she’d been by his small dissent on the beach, but now he knew. They’d read each other’s cards quite clearly, though perhaps his far more than hers.