‘Well, we don’t allow stowaways,’ I say, cautiously taking the steps down to the doorway. My hand is on my scabbard, and I unsheathe my weapon as I open the door.
At first there’s only the dark hallway beyond, and then the putrid smell of death.
‘Stop!’ Biba yells, emerging from the dark. She runs out onto the deck and tries to shut the door behind her, but I’m blocking it.
‘What? What is it?’ I try to ask her, but she’s frantic.
I see the silhouette of a huge man in the shadows and drive my blade into soft flesh. I meet resistance, and then I’m being pushed back, and as we reach the light, I find what’s on the end of my weapon.
They walk out in all their viscera, bloated from their time underwater, bones visible, clothing mottled. I pull my blade from the body I speared, but the thing keeps on walking. This one is tall, with a tattered hat on their head. Another with decaying puckered skin makes their way over to the capstan and gets to work. More swab the deck, gripping the mops with gnarled and swollen fingers. They keep coming until they outnumber us and then some, getting to work as if we aren’t there.
Biba screams, backing herself up against the taffrail. Ris and Isagani have their fists up, ready to throw hands. Sinigang hisses, shaking himself like his fur is wet.
‘Whatarethose things?’ Ris asks, veering out of the path of one of them who shuffles by humming.
‘They look dead,’ I say, staring at them with morbid fascination.
‘Why aren’t you stabbing them, Fin?’ Ris asks, panicked.
‘It didn’t seem to do much!’ I counter, laughing nervously.
‘Are they... helping us?’ Isagani asks, eyes following a corpse ascending the rigging.
‘Looks like it,’ Sinigang says, bristling.
Isagani follows behind a corpse, and with a deft movement they filch a box from the undead, sliding it right off their belt loop. They quickly work at the puzzle of the box, sliding the pieces into place so the picture on the outside is complete. It clicks open, and out pours seawater and grime. All that’s left is a freshwater pearl and a rusted sextant.
‘A sailor?’ I ask, examining the treasures over Isagani’s shoulder. ‘They move like they’re acting on instinct.’
A great cacophony under the hull, like an explosion beneath the water. It ripples outwards and back towards the Paranishian mainland.Saltsweptbucks and roils, and we find something to hold, although the skeleton crew are unfazed. Akin to Sinigang whipping us up a breeze, a strange wind catches in our sails, and the undead continue their labour with organisation and fervour.
‘This didn’t happen to you the last time, did it?’ Ris asks.
I shake my head. ‘This is new. I would’ve remembered a crew of undead sailors rising up.’
‘What nonsense,’ Ris admonishes me. ‘Everyone who passes is ushered into the Tree of Life.’
‘Tell that to them,’ Isagani says warily.
‘A temporary waking from their eternal slumber,’ Sinigang says, slinking around Biba’s feet. ‘It reeks of unholy magic.’
Biba slowly unpeels herself from the taffrail and approaches the sailor who swabs the deck. She touches their skeletal hand and jumps back, as though burned. ‘Restless souls,’ she says, her voice strong and words like an incantation. ‘Sailors who died for the crown.’
‘Plenty more of them since I last did this voyage,’ I say, checking Biba’s hand for a wound. She looks fine, if shaken.
‘Do you think the royal seal summoned them?’ Ris asks, looking pale.
I nod grimly. ‘Looks like it. I’m not ungrateful for the help; we need all hands on deck.’
‘It’s an abomination,’ Ris snaps and then claps a hand over her mouth.
‘Life and Death must be respected,’ Biba echoes, staring at her mother.
The tension is as thick as the fog we just left behind, and I try to suss out what is unspoken between them.
‘There is nothing good about this. It’s disgusting,’ Ris insists, heading towards the balustrade.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask. ‘Aren’t you going to help me navigate?’
