Careful to make as little noise as possible, Orianna lightly crept along the sides of the hallway, fervently avoiding any weak spots that threatened to creak under her weight
Careful to make as little noise as possible, Orianna lightly crept along the sides of the hallway, fervently avoiding any weak spots that threatened to creak under her weight. Not one sound other than the creaking of the boat against the dying strength of the waves could be heard and this was something she counted as a blessing. It seemed she had avoided the hourly patrol.
The door to the dining cabin was barely several meters away, sitting conveniently to the left at the hallways end. Its dark mahogany tint was almost unrecognisable in the darkness but its overly kitsch handle wasn't. Large and round, fashioned in the likes of a holly wreath, it was easy enough to seek out and, to Orianna's ineffable relief, unlocked.
As quick as her nimble body would allow, she swung the door open, barely set her feet within the room and not a second sooner, shut the door so gently it barely made a sound.
A heady mixture of thrill and panic washed over her senses as she turned to face the large room. Not willing to waste time letting her eyes adjust to the complete darkness, she breathed in the crisp air that filled the room and slowly started to feel her way along the wall to her right.
After a few near misses with the furniture and some knocks that would surely leave a bruise, Orianna finally found what she was looking for.
Being fully aware that at any moment she could be caught didn't do a thing for her bravado but it was reason enough to add a slight quickness to her movements.
She wasn't one with an ability to lie, not convincingly anyway, so the idea of trying to explain herself out of a situation such as this would be like trying to dig out of a hole with a toothpick. Nevertheless, casting those fears aside, Orianna knew she had something much bigger demanding her attention. Managing a few more steps, counting each painting that passed, she finally stopped and smiled.
Running her slender and cold fingers over its coarse frame, she hastily slid the painting off the wall and placed it preciously on the floor. Kneeling down beside it and staring at its dark and faint outline, she became wholly and horribly aware of the fact that she hadn't planned any further.
A sense of foolishness swept through her like a torrent; all the ideas she had in her head of finding some connection to her dream seemed to collapse almost instantly.
There wasn't enough light to study the image of the silver mirror more closely, and she couldn't exactly take the painting until morning without anyone noticing.
In her desperation, she had acted without a smidge of common sense, and look where it got her: nowhere.
"What was I thinking," she whispered to herself feeling all the more a fool.
With shame-fuelled anger, Orianna hastily picked up the painting and struggled to her feet. Using rather more force than necessary, she slipped the portrait back onto its hook and casting one last furious glance in its direction, she turned away for the door. She had barely made two steps when an unusual feeling literally hit her and passed through her. Looking dumbly at her hands and then down at her body, she found a strange shimmer where darkness used to be. It was weightless and, with a hesitant test with the tip of her tongue, tasteless. Turning slowly, as if following its trail, she saw something that caught her heart in her throat.
It was her mother. Although barely an arms length away, it was obvious she was not there in flesh and blood, but it was real enough to pierce through Orianna like a cold blade. Her resolve faltered and then fell away leaving unbelieving tears to cloud her eyes as she watched the unnatural vista.
It happened slowly. The image of her mother that she refused to believe was real, refused to accept as anything more than a delusion simply wafted around the room, until other strange things started to appear, furniture in fact. One item after another appeared out of thin air until a whole room, a woman's bedroom it seemed, became as real as the ground Orianna stood on.
Transfixed, horrified and yet unashamedly amazed, she watched as the scene became a story told in silence.
Sitting at a mirrored vanity, the ghost picked up a simple wooden box no larger than an outspread hand. Opening its lid, it picked out a small square piece of charcoal from within its depths and set its black surface upon the mirror.
Letter by letter, eventually a word Orianna had never heard of came into existence.
C….A…S…U…O…W
Reading the word, then re-reading it again, she couldn't make heads or tails of it. If it was a name of a person, a town, a creature or even an affliction she could not, for the life of her, tell.
Before she could question further, everything around her changed. The images began to fade, the air became colder and the shimmering light weakened until all that was left was the blackness of the night.
It was now that the full intensity of what happened hit Orianna and although she had a strong mind, it couldn't fully adjust and with trembling legs the only warning, the curtains closed on her conscious mind and she fell to an ungraceful heap on the floor.
Vaguely regaining consciousness, she heard what seemed like a surprised curse then footsteps before once again, blacking out.
Her head snapping backwards as she was lifted up off the ground brought Orianna too.
An involuntary groan escaped her lips. Feeling heavy and slightly dizzy, she leaned her head against the shoulder of the person carrying her, grateful for the support.
"Where am I?"
A heartbeat of silence passed before a faintly familiar voice broke through. There was no denying to whom it belonged and it instantly made her stiffen.
"I found you unconscious on the floor, so in truth, I should probably be the one asking questions"
It was true, she couldn't deny that. Her mind had now cleared sufficiently enough to comprehend the situation and it really didn't like what it saw. She had a thousand different excuses waiting to be said, but each just didn't sound good enough. Why did it have to be him, out of a whole ship of people, who found her? Life, it seemed, got a kick out of making her miserable.
"Make you a deal. If you don't ask why I was there lying unconscious, then I won't ask you why you were there as well… at night and all alone, I might add. Does that seem fair?"
"Quite". From the amused lilt in his voice, it was clear he didn't feel guilty in the least for being caught out. This confidence brushed against Orianna for a reason she could not explain.
Although it was dark, she could see well enough to understand he had carried her out of the room and was slowly making his way back down the hallway. Although she knew she wasn't steady enough on her feet to walk, her pride gave her nerve to ask to be put down.
The look the man gave her said enough to silence any complaints. "You would fall as soon as your legs touched the ground and I won't risk you injuring yourself again. And if you complain that you're too heavy for me to carry, which I know would've been your next excuse, don't worry…I can manage." As if to prove his point, he easily shifted her weight in his arms to keep her from slipping.
A muffled "harrumph" escaped from Orianna as she deftly resigned herself to the awkward situation. "My cabin is the last door on the left."
She remained silent as he treaded the last few meters until they reached her door and didn't complain when he gently set her down, leaving his hands on her waist to balance her swaying frame.
Grasping the doorway for support, she waited until he stepped back before she faced him. Although one part of her, quite a large part in fact, couldn't seem to trust him, she knew she couldn't be completely ungrateful for his help.
"I guess all I can say is thank-" but before she could finish, the man raised his hand in a silencing gesture.
"Don't. Just turn around, go inside your cabin and lock the door. I did what I had to do and that's all, now it's your turn."
Orianna attempted to argue but the cutting seriousness in his voice made her decide otherwise. She wasn't used to receiving orders, in fact since her mother disappeared, she all but ran the household…although admittedly, it was only her father who was around to get the brunt of it.
With puzzlement clearly written on her face, she gave the gentleman a curt nod of her head and muttered a cautious "Goodnight" before turning and opening the door. Pausing for only a moment she felt the urge to question the man, to at least ask his name, but something told her to ignore it, to hold her tongue and just do as she was told. And in the end, she did.
"Captain," yelled a young man.
"Captain," he tried again. Finding no answer, he continued along the deck, furiously scanning for any signs of Captain Helm. Calling out again in one last attempt, he got his answer, but not from his intended source.
"Over in his bunks," answered a cabin boy.
"Thanks", replied the youth before hurrying towards the captain's personal quarters.
Steadying himself and running a hand over his uniform to smooth it out, he knocked on the door and stepped back.
Captain Helm slowly got out of his bed, cursing whoever woke him at this hour. After only four hours rest in two days, he was close to falling asleep on his feet. Opening the door, he faced a sullen looking young man and instantly knew it would not be good news.
Before he could even murmur a word, the young man spoke.
"Captain there's a problem".