A World to See

By Alex O'Connor

The Age of Exploration has dawned, and with it a disturbing mystery: why do those sent to the New World return hideously scarred and hopelessly mad... if they return at all?

In the three years since his mentor’s disappearance, the Captain has desperately sought a ship to search these strange new lands for the Admiral. When the King finally grants his wish, his adventure - and terrors - begin.

Through strange waters littered with evil omens, the Captain battles otherworldly creatures to arrive at last in a land permeated by an eerie, unnatural darkness overrun by unknowable horrors.

As the Captain and his crew struggle to survive, he begins a different journey of his own. Traveling deep into his past, he will struggle with his own history, and will question everything he’s ever known about himself, and the man who brought him all this way.

This adventure will reveal questions in his soul - if unknowable monsters reign in the skies above, can God be trusted? How can he hold onto his humanity, or his sanity, in the face of such horror? And what if the greatest monsters are the ones we bury deep inside ourselves, always itching to rise?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex O'Connor
• Release date: Dec 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798986602004

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A World To See

Copyright © 2022 Alex O’Connor. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be stored or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews without written permission from the publisher or author.

ISBN

979-8-9866020-0-4 (Paperback)

979-8-9866020-1-1 (Hardcover)

For Dana

Circe, Circe,

who can pilot us on that journey?

Who has ever reached the House of Death

in a black ship?

The Odyssey, 10.550-551

Table of Contents

Chapter One: The Eyes

Chapter Two: Rosalie

Chapter Three: The Beggar

Chapter Four: Leave-taking

Chapter Five: The Paintbrush

Chapter Six: Ulthar, and an Omen Ignored

Chapter Seven: Dolphins

Chapter Eight: The Storm

Chapter Nine: Fear the Lights

Chapter Ten: Landfall

Chapter Eleven: The Hunted

Chapter Twelve: A Bloody Circle

Chapter Thirteen: In the Bowels of the Earth

Chapter Fourteen: The Death of the Admiral

Chapter Fifteen: Alea Iacta Est

Chapter Sixteen: The Betrayal

Chapter Seventeen: Labor Pains

Chapter Eighteen: Ruins Shrouded in Night

Chapter Nineteen: The Sun-Eater

Chapter Twenty: Fury of the Heavens

Chapter Twenty-One: Light

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

The Eyes

It began as a dream, in that momentary haze of clarity as I slipped into sleep. The sinking, crushing sense of being watched. Of being felt and known by something unknown, and filled with rage. The presence dogged me day and night.

As I woke, they were there. In my dreams, I could feel their eyes, forever watching. They followed me and knew me. What began in dreams quickly changed into a waking nightmare.

At times, I could sense its sinuous approach; others, it caught me unawares. Some days I would wake up screaming, covered in sweat. I would lose track of myself and of time only to return with blood on my hands, covered in filth. Losing one’s mind is a thinking man’s greatest fear — to return to the primordial beast that ruled the hearts of men before faith and ritual tempered the worst of those edges. I had no control over when the presence would take me.

I was better when the sun was shining. It crowded out my worries, my fears. The presence of those all-seeing eyes. In those moments, I felt some relief, but the fear never truly left me, because I knew that the night was coming and with it the Eyes on her wings. We are, each of us, bent toward either worship or hatred in the presence of an unknown god. Each day, this struggle weakened my spirit, and I felt the edges of that Dionysian beast claw closer to the surface of my soul.

I had waited for an audience with the King for two years and seven months. When the day finally came, it was raining. I felt the Eyes the moment I awoke. The gaze was unrelenting, and the rain offered little protection. The darkness mirrored my mood; a bad omen for what was to come.

I walked into the palace and was met by several guards, who glanced up to meet my eyes. Captain, said one with a questionable grin, We are pleased to welcome you to Court. I nodded and took my place in the midst of them.

Dull-eyed courtiers flitted across our path, wasting no time looking down their noses as we passed. I was a walking intrusion into their sacred space, trailing mud and filth in my wake as if in deliberate metaphor. I flexed my jaw, and one of the ladies staring at me flinched back, aghast. I felt a stirring of shame, but one of the guards escorting me snickered.

You’ll find their souls are as cold as the jewels they wear.

I said nothing, and we continued in silence, given space by the dull-colored poppets gossiping on the periphery as they parted before us, unholy pagans before the mighty and righteous wrath of God.

All of this splendor was but a preview of the extravagance just beyond the gilt doors of the King’s receiving room. Gold clung to every surface; purple cloth and frescos begged for the past grandeur of ancient Rome. But the beauty and elegance surrounding the King only served to outshine this most unimpressive man.

He was small, nestled in clothes that billowed around his slight frame. His eyes were like dirty puddles drying in the summer heat, but their blackness contained unspeakable violence. Perfumed incense wafted across the room, barely hiding his scent that evoked a swaddling child. Under his burning gaze, I felt every inch of his authority and fury.

So, he began, voice high and somehow fragile. You are the Captain who will sail again to this New World for us, for Spain? He glanced at his courtiers as if to signal some private joke. Why are you so willing to sail to the world’s edge, knowing the fates… of previous expeditions?

I am aware of only rumors, Your Grace, I replied from my knees. Glory and gold have equal weight, whether from here or there. It makes no difference to me.

He bore down on me from his mighty throne. Rumors. Rumors, Captain? Is that why all who return have been driven to madness or death? I kept my eyes trained on the floor below his throne, uneasy at his change in tone.

Hoping my downward glance would disguise my deceit, I replied, I know nothing of those facts, my liege. I am but a simple sailor, anxious to return to the sea.

He grunted, unconvinced. Silence spread across the room; the uneasy guards behind me shifted their feet. My neck remained prostrate, as I had not been asked to rise.

We are told that you served admirably in the war? he remarked with a suddenly silky voice. I glanced up and saw his eyes glimmering with a hint of madness. I suppressed the shudder making its way up my spine.

Yes, I said, with forced calm. I had no desire to remember those days.

You were taken prisoner?

Indeed.

The King began to hum, an odd sound muffled by his large teeth. We are also told that the Admiral of our previous failed expedition to the New World was your commanding officer throughout the conflict? We sincerely hope that you are better at leading men than him, yes?

I ground my teeth, I still hope for his and his crew’s safe recovery and return to the mainland.

The soft, tuneless humming continued as I spoke, and I felt gooseflesh erupt on my arms. My neck remained inclined. I had no desire to see his face.

Are you at all concerned about the rumors of the darkness that allegedly cloaks this New World? he asked with a click of his teeth. Not many captains are willing to sail into that God-forsaken land.

I rarely take the ravings of madmen into account when planning my voyages, Your Grace. Perhaps you should, he snapped. I glanced up sharply, and his eyes held mine as if spellbound. Are you a man of faith, Captain?

No, I replied and watched as his lips curled into a sneer. My faith had long since been drowned in that French prison, all those years ago.

All the better, he spat. We find men of the cloth irritating at the best of times. We will, however, need to include a Priest with your crew for the journey. Propriety, you understand. We simply cannot send our subjects into damnation without the power of God alongside that of the Spanish throne. His grin was toothy and cruel. I forced a smile, nodded, and made platitudes of appreciation.

The King’s troubles with men of the cloth were well known. His many highly placed bastards at court were testament enough to everyone where he stood on matters of faith and faithfulness, and his war with the Church was fought from the pulpit, a battlefield as deadly as any in France.

Why should we finance your venture, Captain? We grow tired of wild goose chases across the sea. Your famed tutor is likely dead at the hands of whatever rules beyond, his soul cursed to wander in eternal darkness like a shade in the Underworld. Why do you deserve this chance? He laid back on his throne; his moist eyes surveyed the room.

My silence was sufficient for a response.

What of the Dark? he finally asked, prodding before the silence could stretch into uncomfortable lengths.

I have torches, my King.

He smiled, but his eyes remained uncomfortably fixed on mine, shining with greed and a hint of something more. You could make us a tidy fortune, sir.

Suddenly, he shook his hand at his courtiers, gesturing them to leave. I felt my stomach drop, knowing what was to come. They left, confused. Only the King, myself, and a few guards at the throne room doors remained. He savored the moment, enjoying this petty show of power.

I supposed the King had to take satisfaction where he could find it. His country was one misstep away from ruin and known to be on the decline. It was the talk of the salons and parlors that the French were sending an armada of several hundred ships to investigate the Darkness, while Spain had only managed three ill-planned, failed expeditions, not including my forthcoming foray. From what I had heard, France had sunk a great deal of her treasury into this particular endeavor; a bid for prestige and glory. What pitiful excuses men contrive for gold.

Despite what I had heard about this dark New World, I felt it in my heart, in my very bowels, that the Admiral, my tutor as the king implied, yet lived. If anyone could survive the very damnation of God on earth, it was that man.

My reveries were interrupted by the King, asking in a conspiratorial tone,

You are likely wondering why we called you here away from the gaze of our court. He paused expectantly, but I made no move to respond. He continued. This meeting is quite the scandal, oh Captain. Our court is rapt with interest. Grinding his teeth, he continued,

Your mission is indeed controversial amongst them that think themselves vested in our country’s future. Our brothers in the Church, meddlers though they be, are under the conviction that the Admiral’s loss is a sign from God that these lands to the West are cursed, a blight before the eyes of Almighty. They say… that no self-respecting citizen of Christendom would ever dare to set foot on such soil. After a brief pause, he added earnestly, God-fearing men should flee such abominations. His wet lips ripped a crater across the soft terrain of his face as he grinned.

But as we say, leaning forward atop his gilded throne, does not Almighty God own the cattle on a thousand hills? Cursed and blessed hills alike. Our problem has been finding sailors foolhardy enough to venture into this darkness. Their persistent reticence is the only reason why we would consider you now, he spat, his fury breaking like a fever. I retreated into myself and offered up a dead smile, desperate for this audience to end.

Thank you for giving me this trust, my King, I obliged.

As the only man present who was willing, we have little choice, he snarled. If any of the rumors about your time in the French prisons are true, then it is likely the darkness that lives across the sea will welcome you as a brother. Let that comfort you on your journey! At last, you may come to reside in a land as dark as your soul. His eyes were ablaze with undisguised hatred; they cut past me to the guards standing at the door. In a beat, those at the door took half steps forward, hands placed pensively on their weapons. Still, as they hesitated, a wave of relief washed over me. I had no wish to spill their blood today, so close to finally achieving my goal.

Did you know one of my own bastards served under you in the war? he hissed. His corpse is now rotting under the earth because of you.

I did know. He was right, of course. I was surprised it had taken him this long to mention it. How could I forget that blood-stained sail? I had thought that the body of a bastard prince would be different somehow. But his pretender son had been broken just as easily as any other man.

Let me be clear with you, Captain, he added, regaining some of his composure. We could find no other candidates to lead this mission. Had there been anyone else, they would be standing before me now instead of you. However, time runs short. Should you fail us, though, we cannot say that we would find any space in our heart to grieve. In fact, we hope that your body will lie fallow and rot.

With the tenor of my audience quickly deteriorating, I bowed my head nearly to the floor in an attempt to raise the mood. Gracious King, I will do all that is in my power to repay in some way your irreplaceable loss, the loss that I inflicted upon you. I can never balance the scales but will do everything in my power to bring glory to your name.

He sneered. It must have pricked his pride to finally acquiesce and allow me to lead this expedition. I believed him when he said that I was the only willing applicant. But he was also an irrational man, prone to fits of passion. I bowed my head to the ground, and there I remained.

Finally, the King said, as if an afterthought, I have one more surprise for you. The Ranger I am assigning to your mission. I am sure you have heard of her. His eyes glittered above his languid cheeks, revealing naked joy at this last parting gesture.

My spine stiffened, and my head rose, Her, Your Grace? I stammered. Yes… He lingered in reply, Her.

My blood began to boil, and I felt it flush my face. Yes, I knew her. Everyone did. That ambitious little bitch. During the war, she had found all the paths behind enemy lines; her skill had led to the few victories Spain had enjoyed. She was equally renowned for her relative youth. Looking at her now, she appeared hardly a year or more into child-bearing age.

She swaggered into the room from behind the throne as though waiting for her cue to appear. If women had been allowed to act on the stage, she could have achieved legitimate fame. A small, self-satisfied smile played on her lips, and I clenched my teeth.

Her voice cut across the air with a slight bow, a light note in a heavy room, My Captain. Ranger, I growled.

Her eyes glinted, and her head bowed, My King, I am thrilled to be the one who will finally find this lost city of gold and make real the rantings of so many mad sailors.

Blood pulsed in my ears. Forcing a smile, all I could manage was a grimace.

Be not pained, dear Captain! You and I will have much time to get reacquainted.

With that promise, the King stood and turned in one smooth motion, and his robe flew over the room, washing this audience from his memory and relieving the empty space of his presence. And with a nod, the Ranger turned to nip at his heels.

I exhaled, still simmering and catching my breath. The doors behind me opened with a clap, and I was finally allowed to leave. At once, my audience was over, and my mission began.

Despite the King’s hostility, he had provided a gorgeous ship. His provision belied his hope for success and the much-needed riches that success would bring. She was yar and sleek—a three-masted carrack with a massive hull for storing beer and cargo, and hopefully gold. At a distance, she dwarfed the lines of men who looked like ants carrying barrels of food on their backs up the planks from the dock.

I walked down to the figure directing the men at the docks. Tall and bulky with muscle, he had the bearing of someone who had spent time in the service. I squinted and saw the patches on his sleeve marked him out as a musketeer. Then, my eyes widened as I recognized the insignia of the King’s Musketeers of the Guard of France.

What are you doing here? I barked, placing my hand on his shoulder none-too-gently. His eyes cut over me and dismissed me with an arrogance that only the French could muster.

Loading this ship, he drawled, gesturing to the men working around us.

My cheeks flushed. Obviously, I replied. But why are you loading my ship?

Because I am the Musketeer for this mission? He looked at me as if I was a child tugging on his sleeve.

The King had sent a Frenchman. Naturally. The ultimate slight, a slap in the face. This doubtless was a costly insult, for the French had already conscripted their best to man their fleet, the departure of this armada to the new world was only a year out. Where could the King have found a French musketeer willing to join a Spanish mission?

What are those? I asked, pointing to the dozens of unfamiliar and unmarked barrels rolling up the gangplank.

Insurance. He grinned.

I shrugged, annoyed as he turned away, ignoring me and continuing to order the men about, growling at them to be careful with the casks of unknown contents. Musketeers were notoriously close-mouthed about their trade secrets — especially in matters of artillery. Hopefully, no crisis would come, and those trade secrets would not be revealed.

This Frenchman musketeer was just one more twist of the knife from the king. I imagined his doughy smile as he thought himself clever with his tiny barbs and festering insults. As the primary patron of our voyage, he had the final say in the composition of my crew. Given our history, I expected that he would hide little knives against me throughout the crew. However, despite this, I hoped the king desired success above reprisal. Seeing the stripes, bars, and medals on the Musketeer’s sleeves and chest it appeared my hope was not in vain. A Musketeer of the Guard was a soldier of incredible dedication and tenacity, the elite of the French military. How had the King of Spain wooed one of France’s best for his own? Questions upon questions.

As I turned away to leave, I glanced back to watch the sun descend into the bowels of the faraway sea. The sky was a burnished orange, and the moon peeked its crescent head on the opposing horizon. In the far distance, some dolphins breached, and I heard their calls in the distance amid the dock’s clamor: beautiful creatures, the protectors of sailors, the bringers of good luck. I wasn’t sure if I believed in luck, but I knew that every voyage where I saw a dolphin was a voyage that had smooth sailing throughout. Maybe this small mercy was an omen for the trip to come — that the God or gods above would protect us from the gods below the sea. I hoped. I needed all the hope and luck the gods could give.

Chapter Two

Rosalie

As night fell, I walked to Rosalie’s. Her quarter of the city was neither dangerous nor safe. It was well-lit, and unlike other quarters, rarely frequented by the city’s watchmen . At least not when they were on duty . The streets narrowed as I approached, silent save for the clop of my boots on the smooth cobblestones. Two ravens perched above a fountain long dry let out a shrill cry and fluttered into flight, melding into the speckled darkness above. A one-eyed beggar sat in the gutters that banked the street amid the grime and debris. My approach appeared to wake him from his stupor.

Last night before your ship leaves port, Captain? he called from his filth with a wink. I glanced at him, grunted, and started up the stairs to Rosalie’s.

His cackling floated after me like wind, so I quickly knocked on her door and entered. A wave of warm air hit my face, perfumed by sex and sweat. Her small room seemed almost bright compared to the darkness behind me, but the light soon dimmed. Rosalie sat reclined on a couch with a knowing grin. With the faintest tilt of her head, she bid me enter. I swept passed her furniture of faded silk, making my way to her bed. I deposited a few coins from my purse on the bedside and smiled. A lone candle on the bedside table flickered in a gust of wind as the rain pattered on the window shutters.

She stood, placed her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow. Glancing up, I saw her dark eyes glaring and full of reproach. She made no move, undid no button, bent no knee, simply staring at me. What? I grunted, unbuckling my belt.

I hear that you’re going to sea in the morning to sail to the cursed lands, she said, as her arms folded under her bosom. Her voice was soft but somehow managed to fill the entire room. The faint grunts and moans of pleasure behind the walls around us faded as she spoke.

That may be, I replied, leaving my belt alone, sensing a lecture.

Why can you not just guard some wealthy merchant like other soldiers?

Ex-soldier.

Why do you insist upon testing God?

I chuckled inwardly at the irony that I should receive theology lessons from a whore. God? Who is she to speak his name?

God, my love, abandoned me long ago. I gestured to my surroundings.

Don’t mock, she snapped, slapping away my wandering hands. There is sin that can be forgiven… and there is evil that no penance can erase. The place you are going… It is evil. A stain that you will not be able to cleanse. Her eyes were wide and full of judgment but also concern.

I sighed. I am not seeking a philosopher or priest tonight, Rosalie.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she turned away from me, arms still crossed.

Hey now, I said, feigning gentility. The evils you fear are just rumors, spread by French sailors to frighten children and old wives. A curtain of lies to conceal the gold they found. If I don’t get any of that gold, how can I keep seeing you? I folded her into my arms. This time, she didn’t resist.

The Church says it is an abomination to go. Her eyes sought mine from within my arms, imploring me. The church wouldn’t lie, not about this or anything! They can’t!

The Church has many mysteries, my dear, but their love of gold isn’t among them.

I laughed and then felt shame well in my chest as she shot me a cutting look. She and I banter like this often between our other activities, but tonight was different. It broke my heart to see this brilliant, beautiful girl in this filthy place. With filth like me.

Not many whores go to church; how did I get so lucky? I asked her with a smile. She glared and spat, Maybe I’ll become a nun.

Would I still be able to visit you?

A small ray of light broke through her unhappy pallor. I would be the bride of Christ. So no. I chuckled, and silence came over us.

I don’t want you to go, she finally whispered. Have you heard that the sun does not shine in that place? A Frenchman told me. That there are creatures there that hunt with Light. The French sent a ship, and only one sailor came back.

They always say things like that, trying to impress pretty girls like you. How would a creature hunt with light, Rosalie? It’s nonsense.

She wasn’t convinced. Her arms were still crossed beneath her breasts, and her foot was lightly tapping on the dusty floor boards.

I’ll be back before you know it and be a much richer man. Maybe I’ll even marry you. Lord knows I’ll need someone to spoil, to shower with gold. I plastered an impatient grin on my face.

Her smile faltered. You’re just a lonely old man.

Not just lonely, my dear…. I smirked.

We laughed, and she pressed herself into me, and I breathed in the scent of her hair. Then she was serious again. I had a dream about you last night.

Oh? I said, pulling her closer. I started to undo her bodice, but her small, gentle hands took hold of mine. I paused, looking into her eyes. Beautiful. Her gorgeous blonde locks cascaded down in a stream toward the valley between her breasts. I felt warmth in my chest and below.

In my dream, you were running through a dark forest, blood streaming down your face. Crying tears of blood. You… Your eye was missing, like someone had plucked it out with a pincher. It felt so real. I was terrified. Her gentle, cool hand brushed my right eye. Someone hurt you, and you were trying to get away from them. I didn’t see what happened next.

The swelling in my pants died as I looked at her tear-stained face. When had she started crying? Tears like rivers carved canyons and gorges through her immaculate face paint; the drops formed dark leaves in the dust on the sandalwood scented floor.

I… I was scared of the Lights for a while after that. My lantern scared me…. She forced a laugh, then paused again. It was like a demon had possessed the world around me… You just shouldn’t go. She implored. Let’s go to a priest; he can marry us and….

The slap of my hand cut off her voice and my sight, and I found myself in a new silence. I wasn’t there anymore; I was in a dream of my own. I was in the dark; the pits, suffocating, the presence I feared grabbed ahold of me. Please, not now. Screaming in silence, screaming until my throat bled. I never saw the sun. The mocking voices of the French guards, laughing, spitting on me as I sat on a shit-covered floor. My stomach clenched into knots, folding in on itself. The gnawing hunger, hunger drove men to do horrible things. Unspeakable things. The soft throat of that boy who tried to steal