The Mariner

The Oracle suddenly stopped her ranting and her once knowing, then furious, eyes widened with fright. Colour drained from them, as colour would drain from a frightened cheek.

“What do you know of the Wasp? How could you? Unless?” Her hands suddenly flew up, covering her face. “Unless?” Fear became terror. The Oracle leapt to her feet, jumping up onto her bunk as if he were a rat nipping at her toes. “Get away from me! Get away! Don’t look at me with that horrid head of yours! Don’t bring the Wasp here!”

“What is the Wasp?” He grabbed the bars, pressing his face closer, eager to learn. “Where can I find it?”

“I didn’t wake it! I wasn’t the one! The Pope, he knows! The Pope! The Pope!” she screamed, bawling like a frightened toddler. “Just stop looking at me. Please, please leave me alone! The Pope woke it, it’s his fault!”

Behind him, the Mariner heard an intake of breath.

“What is it?” he whispered.

“The Pope!” Heidi hissed back, although the Oracle, still wailing and shrieking, was beyond listening. “We’ve been searching for him as long as any Anomenemy. He’s worshipped across the whole ocean.”

“Where is this Pope?” he yelled at the Oracle. “Where is he?”

“North! Past the waterfall, where the air is cold and the Ethusmanier swim. He lives on the Moors, not the sea. He hates the sea. I would too if I’d woken the Wasp!”

“But what is it? What is the Wasp? What’s happening to the world? Is the Wasp a demon, stealing our world from us, is that it?”

The Oracle, suddenly stopped crying and peered at him between her fingers. “No, you’ve gotten it all wrong, the Wa—”

The gap between her fingers exploded with dark blood as a bullet pierced her hand and then her face, shattering skull, snuffing out life. The creature known as the Oracle was thrown back against the wall, where she stood for a second or so, teetering on shaky legs, before sliding down into a heap. Stunned silence followed and the Mariner, ears ringing, turned to Harris, his shotgun still smoking from the blast.

“We have the location of the Pope,” he said, unapologetic. The Mariner’s fury was dark. “He’s the most notorious Anomenemy in the whole ocean. Other than that, I can’t see how listening to any further heresy can help.”

“It was going to tell us the truth!”

“What truth?” Harris laughed. “Do you think that creature knew anything? You’re not the only one to spend time with that witch. She was mad, and she’d tell you anything to buy her own freedom. But that doesn’t stop it being nonsense. Besides, we know what’s happening to the world. Mavis told us. We know what needs to be done.”

34. FIVE-FEET HIGH AND RISING

“WORD OF THE POPE FIRST came to us through graffiti scrawled on walls within abandoned ships. Usually they would be in the most squalid of cabins, the sort littered with drugs and faeces, but later they appeared in more extravagant abodes. At first we thought they were deluded references to some shared hallucination, a mass dream if you will, but as we began scavenging more and more vessels, we began to realise that the Pope was real, and had wide reach.”

Heidi spoke with a slow sincerity, easily heard by those gathered around her upon the Neptune, a small fire lighting their faces in an otherwise stiflingly dark night. McConnell sat behind Grace, with her leaning against him, not just for warmth, but for protection from the ghost story being told, for that’s what the Pope had become across the endless ocean: a whispered ghost story.

Crowded aboard the Neptune were a number of Mavis’ loyal followers, those chosen to remain with Heidi and Harris whilst they searched for the Pope. The rest had been returned to the Beagle, to protect the old lady and her research.

The devils, suspicious of strangers as ever, had growled and spat at the new crew, before scampering into the lower chambers where they could have peace. For the Mariner himself it was all part of an ever increasingly uncomfortable intrusion, like being put on display. Still, if it helped him find the Pope, the Wasp, and the Island, then perhaps the discomfort was worth it.

“I’ve heard of the Pope,” said McConnell. “But only a little. It was something sailors used to talk about in Sighisoara, though they were careful to hide their words near me. I’m a religious man, and they knew not to bring heresy to my door, yet still I couldn’t help but pick up scraps of information here and there. His followers lurk at all ends of the world, though I’ve never met one myself. Crazy I hear, and dangerous, all dreaming of performing some sort of pilgrimage to receive his blessing.”

Heidi confirmed McConnell’s story. “We’ve heard that too, some event called ‘Mass’, though what goes on is a mystery. We’ve never found one of their followers alive to interrogate.”

“But you have found followers?” The Mariner was intrigued.