Penumbra
Mother
knelt before the crew of the Silent Night. He had intended to lead them in
prayer, but could barely bring himself to form a vowel without beginning to
blubber and sob. The Monks had dressed the captain in a white linen shroud and
wouldn’t allow his triorne captain’s hat to be placed on the body. Mother
clutched the filthy hat against his chest and buried his face into it as he
sobbed, smearing his face with filth and sea salt.
The crew
was now crying, although no one pulled against the rope that bound them to the
funeral pyre as a thirty-man pyramid. Each ragged respiration from the crying
crew echoed off the stonewalls of the cavern and were lost, bouncing off into
the vast expanse of the chamber. Some of the monks began to pour oil on the
pyre, the crew and finally themselves before taking a seat on the ground in a
loose circle around the funeral pyre. The remaining monks lit torches and
incense flavoring the air with a could scents Mother had yet to encounter
despite all his travels. The smoke began to irritate Mother’s eyes. He pulled
his kerchief from his neck and wiped away tears and salty filth from his face.
His captain
would be furious if he saw the state of his first mate and his crew. He would
rage and the sea and storm would rage with him. To be dishonored on his wedding
night would shame the soon to be immortal name of the dread pirate; Captain
Abraham. Mother righted himself and took a long pull from the flask of the
captain’s rum that dangled from a rope tied to his belt. He never wanted the
Silent Night nor it’s beastly crew. He had only ever wanted to serve his
beloved captain.
Mother had sailed over every ocean. He had stood on lands
his own mother and father would not have been able to believe if the archangels
themselves sang their praises in the privy. He had only his captain to thank
for that. Mother owed Captain Abraham many debts that could very well extend
beyond this lifetime and he intended to pay as many of those as he could right
now.
Mother clapped together his thick, salt stained hands. His
captain has taught the crew this trick. One clap called for silence two for
prayer. The singular thunderclap echoed off the cavern walls fading into an
unseen distance. Mother’s mind wandered for a split second as it followed the
sound deeper into the mountain sanctuary into recesses that he doubted many of
the monks had ever ventured. The crews had stopped their mourning and were
working to restrain the tide of grief they were feeling. Mother licked his lips and tasted the last of
the captain’s rum. He took a torch from the nearest monk and inhaled gently.
Although, Mother had never led the captain’s dream song, he
knew it well enough. Captain Abraham led the crew with the song in the evening
before supper from the first night after he had the first of his dreams that
eventually lead them here. Mother had felt inspired by the clarity the dreams
had given the captain. He knew where to guide the Silent Night from that point
forth, as easily as he knew the song upon waking.
“Ohm Na
Mo… Chi Va
Ko…Si Ra Saa…” The crew blinked absently at Mother. Maybe they would only
respond to Captain Abraham’s deep rugged voice.
A panic caught Mother. What if the crew were over come by
their passions? The crew of the Silent Night were renown for their demonic
furies thought the seaways. Over come with grief and madness there would be
nothing Mother could do to quell their wild rage. Mother licked his dry lips.
The salt filled his mouth, mixing with whatever rum remained in his saliva. He inhaled
and relaxed into the next verse of the prayer allowing the words to build on
the vibration within his chest, giving the song a nice hum.
“Ar-Hang.
Ka Ru Ni Ko. Shap Pha Sat Ta Nang.”
The monk
standing to Mother’s left began to sing the prayer as well. There was almost a
look of surprise across the monk’s face. Mother couldn’t bother to give it more
than a passing notice. He inhaled deeply and allowed to next verse to come from
deep within his belly.
“Oh Sa Ta.
Tip Pha Man Tang. Pa Pha So.”
The remaing
crew and monks began to sing along filling the cavern with song. The monks
sitting on the floor joined the prayer a moment before the pyre crew began to
stumble through the round. Through tears and ragged breaths, the full chorus of
the captain’s prayer was sung.
Smiles
began to break out on both monk and crew alike. The rounds were flavored by
smiles and the prayer exalted. As the second corus swept into the third, the
monks and sailors were laughing and smiling. They joined hands and began to sway
in unison.
“Na Pai
Tang Vean. Na Vean Ma Ha Kuu. Ey Hi Ma Ma.”
Mother
could feel himself choke up as they neared the end of the song. He would not
allow himself to cry again and noted how bitter the lump in his throat tasted.
Mother swallowed hard and finished the song.
“Na Ah. Na
Wa. Ro Kaa. Pa Ya Ti. Wi Nas Santi.”
Mother
exhaled from his belly, releasing the last line of the prayer.
“Sa Tu No
Pan Te.” A silence seized the chamber almost immediately. Against the
oppressive silence of the moment, Mother forced a whispered prayer from the
captain’s old gods.
“Yit'gadal
v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba. b'al'ma di v'ra khir'utei”
Mother
could not press against the silence anymore than that. He’d never felt a moment
to be so silently demanding before. They had invoked some god or another and it
would not suffer the mumbling of fools any longer.
Mother felt
to monk to his right slip a hand gently under his elbow and begin to guide him
towards the pyre. The remaining monks followed while the remaining crew
maintained a circle behind them.
Mother had
already said goodbye to the crew and fixed his eyes on the captain. Beneath the
shroud the captain’s skin had already accepted a grey and blue hue. His thick
black hair and beard framed a now other-worldly face. Captain Abraham looked
almost peaceful or as peaceful as a thunderbolt could possibly look.
Within a
few steps and before he cold ever possibly be ready, Mother and the monk were
mere cubits from the ring of monks and the pyramid of martyrs. Mother could
smell the salt, sweat, and oil mix with the lavender the monks had used to
covered the captain’s body. Without pomp, Mother tossed his torch into the
kindle. The remaining monks did the same.
The fire
leapt from the ground and sucked the air from Mother’s mouth and momentarily
blinding everyone in the cavern. Mother was flung backward, groping at the air
for purchase he managed to dig his fingernails into the forearm of the monks
beside him. The monk was wild with fear and religious ecstasy, and responded by
grabbing at Mother and clawing at his face. Mother fell to the ground beneath
the wild monk. The remaining crew pulled
the monk from Mother before too much damage was done. They flung him to the
side where he thrashed about and gnashed his teeth. Four monks carried him by
each limb towards the steps carved into the walls of the cavern. The fire had
flared and extinguished itself almost instantly. Later, the crew would swear
they had see all the colors of the rainbow shining out of the funeral pyre
Mother bit
his lip against the pain he felt from the burn he had on the right side of his
face and arm. The monk had clawed away a portion of his left cheek, but the
pain from the burn canceled out any other stimuli. Mother pulled himself to his
knees and looked upon the pyramids of ash that were the remains of the martyrs
and monks. Captain Abraham had taught him to count, to read too, but he
wouldn’t need either of those skills. He knew that the pyre was short one pile
of ash. Where the captain had been laid there was now only a gleaming black
jawbone that looked to have been carved from the same volcanic glass they’d
found from time to time in their journeys. The crew and a monk were pulling Mother to his
feet and helping him towards the long ascent.
The monks
were chattering in their tongue and rushing Mother and the crew up the mountain
steps. Mother and the crew of the Silent Night walked the two hour ascent in
silence. They shuffled through the monastery and out into the snow shower
outside. The monks had erected a small tent city with a large tent in the
center serving as hospital. Mother understood that the crew of the Silent Night
would not be welcome inside ever again and he could feel that they were not
long to over stay their welcome in this shanty town. As soon as they had guides
and the weather broke they would make the journey back to the ship.
Although a
small portion of him yearned to be hurt and confused Mother wouldn’t have it.
He accepted that he was no longer within the protection of his captain. He was
once again a pawn in the ploys of others. Mother layback in the arms of the
monks as they carried him. Above him the stars sway in time with the movement
of the men’s shuffling as they hurried towards the hospital tent. Mother absently
clutched at his chest. He was surprised to find that he still held the
captain’s triorne. Mother pressed it gently against his nose and inhaled the
fading scent of Captain Abraham’s dirty hair. A pained smile started on
Mother’s lips. They would again set sail in a month’s time and search the Night
for a new captain.
