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Looking down towards the deck, the lost crewmates seemed to haunt him with a vile chill - the recently departed and those long before. The chill that reminded him of his trip to the Underworld; cold and dark the whole way, killing the last of his mercy. Now, the survivors cleaned away the striking contrast of scarlet plaguing the ship.
He could taste the sea, salty and bitter - just as he knew the crew would be if they knew. But they never would. Never.
‘Captain!’ Came a shout from below.
Once the Captain had located who said it, he locked eyes with him, ignoring the man’s look of betrayal. He knows, he thought to himself. Before coming to the deck, where the crew member beckoned him, he grabbed his sword and hid it beneath the long coat. Stomping through the mess, he kept his eyes on him - holding his sword ever so discreetly as to not show it. He dared not to look anyone else in the eyes. Not now.
‘Yes?’
‘Tell me you did not know how that would end. Tell me that you did not just sacrifice six of our crew.’ His eyes shone against the moonlight and the few torches that lit the ship.’Say something!’
He paused, thinking of some excuse; but the eyes that tore down him, seemed to make it impossible to think.
‘I can’t!’ Waves crashed in his ears, shutting out the reason that fought to be heard.
The eyes that held him down, the Captain didn’t care for. It was survival and he refused to be on the losing side.
Holding back a quiver in his voice, just barely, he concluded, ‘Then you have forced my hand.’ And with that, he drew his own sword, shining just as his eyes did before he wiped them clean.
‘Don’t do this, Eurylochus. You would’ve done the same.’ Breathe in, breathe out.
‘Don’t test me, Captain. I would get us back alive. All of us.’
The Captain knew he had blood on his hands, enough to sink the ship he sailed, but he wanted to get back to the Docks. He wanted everyone to get back; with everything that had happened in the last ten years, he’d never get to say I’m sorry to the hundreds of men who’d drowned. Under his command.
Eurylochus was past apologies as far as the Captain could tell. It looked as if he was trying to kill him with only a glare, one vile and vicious dose of poison sentenced upon him. His wide posture, closer to the ground, closed in on him. Rather than retaliating instantly, he waited. He would not let this stop him. Now that the sea had let him regain his wit, he knew what to do.
‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ Eurylochus’ sword met the Captain’s shirt, dying it the same color of the deck. ‘I wouldn’t say that’s a great idea, knowing I’m the only one who can navigate.’
Never had he wanted to win by spite. The first crew member to . . . die, his best friend, had said to always greet the world with open arms. As much as he could he wanted to keep him alive by doing so, but you can’t win a sword fight with words. Not without the right words.
Now Eurylochus was right in his face, unbeknown to what he had in store.
‘You disgust me.’ He spat. And with that, the sword withdrew from his chest, making it cold once again now that he had adjusted to it.
Odysseus had an open window to attack. His mouth tasted metallic, the world tinted darker. His blood boiled, now roaring in his ears. Quicker than anything anyone had seen, he drew his own sword. Swiping a long gnash across Eurylochus' chest, rather than the usual satisfaction of taking down his enemy, he felt it.
His knees, now useless, collapsed to the floor, leaving the burning that only seemed to pierce him rising, cutting deep into him. Behind, another crew member drew his sword back. Rather than pulling it from his sheath, he jerked it from the Captain’s back, spraying blood over, not just the deck but, himself.
The Captain locked eyes with him, seeing the rage simmer from his eyes. Nothing could conceal something so overwhelming, pain creeping out as if, finally, it could let itself be known. It looked more like he had been stabbed in the back rather than the Captain.
He was dying. He knew that.
With his quickly fading vision, he saw Eurylochus rubbing his thumb over something. Oh, gods no. Of everything they could have done to him, taking justice for the blood he had shed, this goes beyond.
‘Please.’ He begged, distasted by how the word felt on his tongue.
‘You never showed any of us mercy.’ His tone was low enough just to be heard, but booming with power. The power the Captain no longer held. ‘Why should we show you mercy.’
Dropping it by the metal chain, he showed the Captain a compass, decorated with gold to contrast the dull bronze. It flew out of sight as the Captain dropped to his hands.
‘I don't need to be able to navigate.’ Eurylochus' voice was full of certainty, sending warm breath on to his ear that only infuriated to fires burning in his ears.
He stood up, using his sword for support, leaving the Captain on the floor, shaking from exhaustion.
Eurylochus strung the compass around the Captain's neck.
No reaction came when Eurylochus hung it around, what was there to do? He couldn't see, his vision had disappeared into the darkness, along with the pain. Maybe it wasn’t just the Captain who lost his mercy - maybe Eurylochus had too.
‘Any last words?’ He raised his sword, hands higher than head. Odysseus never responded and with that he took one final stab.
Pain had returned, as he cried out from the burning. Not just his chest where he felt another hole, but everywhere. His head felt as if it had been rammed against the deck over and over, then split open.
Then it all went quiet.
Pain disappeared instantaneously, but nothing took its place. Only numbness. Like he was floating but no enlightenment came.
‘Show us to the Docks,’He knew that voice, it was Eurylochus'.
As he tried to rebel, nothing happened. He had no choice but to comply. But rather than pointing, he felt a tiny needle point in the right direction.
It was then the Captain knew. He knew he was no longer Captain or living. He was the compass Hornigold had shown him. Or at least he was inside it, spinning the pin.
This was his punishment. Their revenge.