The Fervor

     “So,” he asked, his long moustache drooping over his mouth. “Ain’t seen you around here. In fact, ain’t really seen anyone around here. We don’t get many visitors besides the locals, you see. And well, sorry, but you don’t really strike me as a local. A nice Halloween Xweetok like yourself don’t belong in this part of Krawk Island.”

     I forced down another sip of rotten orange juice. Was that pulp or was it mold? Or seeds? “Well, it’s a lovely establishment you have, truly.” Sometimes a little lie goes a long way.

     My name is Jolene Jackdaw. I’m a Halloween Xweetok, an amateur Gormball player, a fan of Usuki dolls, but most of all, I’m a ghost hunter. My work takes me to some strange places and The Thirsty Cobrall is no exception.

     The innkeeper smiled politely and pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Thank you, ma’am. It ain’t much, but it’s mine. Would you believe that years ago it was one of the finest establishments this side of Terror Mountain? We used to have all sorts of guests, not just wanderers and pirates and folk either. Some of the finest names in Neopia have sat right where you are. I have signatures from Thyassa the Chia and Farvin III.”

     That caught my attention. “Farvin III? Gormball star Farvin III?” I had a poster of him in my room for years now. I was more than a passing fan. But Gormball wasn’t why I was here today. Reel it in Jolene, I told myself, and cleared my throat. “Actually, sir, I wanted to ask you some questions.”

     He raised an eyebrow. “Questions?”

     I stammered. “Yes, you see, there’s been some rumours. Of a haunted ship.”

     The Kyrii narrowed his eyes and motioned me to move closer towards him. After several quick glances over his shoulder, he whispered, “Be careful with talk like that. Many of us still think they ought to be home any day now. The ship ain’t gone, maybe it’s a little off track.”

     Ah, to be expected. The Fervor set sail years ago. Year 7, to be exact. What a year it was, I thought to myself, remembering both my youth, the day I scratched off a winning card at the Lost Desert Kiosk, and of course, the day a team of explorer Neopians discovered Geraptiku. The discovery led to a rapid age of discovery, each adventurous Neopet was desperate to make a name for themselves, explore the forgotten shores in the north and south, hoping to set foot on a land previously unknown.

     The fools.

     “With all due respect,” I gulped down the last my orange juice, trying not to chew the pulp, seeds, mold, or whatever mystery was left on the bottom. “It’s been nearly two decades. The Fervor and its crew aren’t coming back. At least, not as the Neopians they once were.”

     “So you believe in those ghost stories, eh?” The Kyrii waved away a patron asking for a glass of slime. He was too invested in this conversation to hope for a doubloon tip. The Mynci frowned and left, his long golden earrings jingling against each other. I looked around a little more at the patrons inside. Nearly all were dressed as if they were headed out to sea, in either their finest naval suits, or a more cutthroat look festooned with jewellery fit for a pirate king. Whatever their backgrounds were, there was not a single soul inside that would look out of place on a deck. Landlubber like me, I was the odd one out by far. The only ship I ever set foot on was a glass bottom boat on a short river cruise.

     “Fine. I’ll tell you all I know. But keep it under lock and key. No writing any articles or books about this. I don’t want to see this story front and centre on The Neopian Times or on the bestsellers list next time I’m in town.”

     I promised. My curiosity was insatiable but my fingers were crossed under the seat. I had bills to pay, after all.

     The Kyrii stared at the ceiling pensively. The rain outside pitter-pattered against the roof, and a few drops of condensation threatened to fall on us. He began his story.

     “My uncle Fitzleroy was second in command of The Fervor. A fine man, a strong Kyrii with a sharp jaw, an even sharper wit, and something to prove. He was always second best, in all things. He was born to be just one step behind the winner, but nevertheless, I respected him something fierce. Handsome, charismatic, funny, fast on his feet, and able to work a deck like he was a Swabby. When The Fervor set sail, my whole family and I saw him off, waving flags and blowing kisses, sure we would see him in a few months' time with a fresh new land to explore.”

     “A land up north?”

     “Of course. Look at any old map and tell me you don’t think there are secrets up there in those icy hills. Like I was saying, we thought he would come home a hero. The sea was his home, he was born on a boat, and spent more than half of his life on a boat. He might as well have been a Jetsam for as much as he loved to swim. Well, he came back alright. But he wasn’t a hero. And there was no land up north to find.”

     I nearly fell off of my stool. Holding onto my hat, I gasped. “He came back?”

     The keeper of the Thirsty Cobrall motioned for me to keep my voice down. A few patrons looked up from their grubby plates of beige food. A Lupe with one eye grunted and shook his head disapprovingly at me, the loud, uncouth tourist. I blushed.

     “He came back? But no one ever heard from the ship again, I thought. Sightings, sure. Plenty of Neopians reported seeing it sailing at night, black flags at the mast, ghostly blue mates on board.”

     The Kyrii sighed. “Plenty, eh? Well, I can only tell you what I know. He came home. I was sleeping in my room. It was Friday night, I remember because I was going to Hubert’s Hot Dogs the next day, as was my Saturday tradition.” He chuckled fondly. “Anyhow. I was sleeping and I awoke to the sound of the door opening. There was a light. I thought it was my sister or my mom. Maybe even our Petpet Spardel asking to go out for a midnight potty break. But there was a cold, clammy paw on my shoulder. I heard breathing. Then I felt cold water drip on my face. When I opened my eyes, there he was. Fitzleroy stood above me, wearing the same hat and breeches he was when he left. He looked like a right mess. There was a scar behind his ear so deep I thought that someone attacked him with a zombie paintbrush. His hair was all shaggy and in his face, and his eyes were hollow.”

     I gripped the table in front of me, my claws digging into the wood. “And then what?”

     “Then he told me not to worry. That’s all he said. He said don’t worry, and that he would be back in a year’s time to visit and see how well the family was doing. Then, just as quickly as he came, he walked out of my room the same way he came in. Funny enough, his boots were all wet, leaving a mess of muddy footprints behind him. Of course, my mom was really happy about that. I was scrubbing them down all day.”

     I chewed my lip.

     “The wildest thing, my dear, is that he told the truth. He came back every year. I got older, I even moved house twice. But he always came. He would shake me awake, tell me I was looking well and that the sea was his one true love, so powerful and temperamental as she was. All was fine. Then he would leave.”

     “Was he a ghost, do you think?”

     A loud Eyrie interrupted us, asking for a refill of his dinner and drink. I had some time to think to myself about this. The Fervor was a mighty ship. The sea couldn’t have really taken all of those skilled sailors, could they have? Fifty brave, skilled Neopians set sail on her wings. What if it was still out there riding the sea, pleasant as the day was young, full of song and life after all?

     I looked down at the dirty floorboards, lost in thought.

     The Eyrie’s boots were sopping wet. He left muddy footprints, thick and wet and full of kelp. I looked back up and scanned the crowd. The Lupe, too. He looked freshly wet, as if the rain was inside, his coat sleek with water running down his arm. An Acara was practically drenched, her paw dripped water into her bowl of mashed Neggs.

     No, it could not be. Could it?

     The Kyrii spun around to grab another fresh plate for the Eyrie. It only lasted a moment, but I could see a great gash behind his ear, raw and red as if he was…well, either painted zombie, or something much worse.

     I gulped.

     “Sir, I don’t quite think I caught your name?” I asked gently, voice shaking, knowing what he would say.

     The Kryii turned back around and smiled. He extended a paw.

     “Pleased to meet you, young lass. The name’s Fitzleroy. And don’t go asking no more questions about The Fervor, understand?.” He winked.

     I promised. This time, I didn’t cross my fingers.

     The End.