Wicked Runaway: A Mark Cannidor Adventure

‘He’s a thief!’ ‘He’s a coward!’ ‘He’s an i***t!’ ‘He’s a moron!’ There was a clink of glass hitting wood. ‘Look, I’m not making any excuses for the damned boy!’ declared Captain Sigourney Malcheffi on that warm and bitter evening in July, when the sky was clear, but the air was stale. ‘But seriously, I don’t see any reason how…’ ‘Come on, Captain,’ pleaded the head chef. ‘How do you explain the disappearances of those thirteen bags of gold? Thirteen! All in one night, I ask you!’ ‘That pot of gold was our entire budget, that was!’ another crew member cried out. ‘£13,000! We worked hard for that money. It’s shocking, it’s abysmal. It’s a rotten old nightmare!’ ‘It was enough for the upkeep of our entire crew and then some!’ ‘All gone!’ ‘In one night…’ ‘What will we do now?’ ‘In the middle of the sea, too!’ barked the warden. ‘I have been patrolling this ship day and night for the past week! He’s a sneaky little one, that’s what he is! He has never been seen, but he is certainly the culprit behind all this mess. We never had this amount of trouble before we took him in…we shall have to sail back to land now, that’s for certain…’ ‘Spoilt little brat…I blame the parents…’ ‘He lurks in the corridors on his own…’ ‘At night-time, too…’ ‘Creepy. So creepy’. ‘And he never makes eye contact with anyone…’ ‘Not a single soul…’ ‘And he’s strange…’ ‘Strange. So strange’. ‘No boy should behave like that’. There were excited murmurs of agreement amongst the crew gathered inside the captain’s quarters. Outside, a young boy was panting, panicking, frightened, and shivering. It was young Mark Cannidor who stood there and listened intently, leaning closely against the door, trying with all his might to remain silent, so that none of the people inside could hear him eavesdropping on their conversation. His breathing was heavy, his heart was beating fast, and a cold sweat poured down his forehead. He was in such a helpless situation; it was too much for him. It was typical how an entire crew had blamed him for everything that had gone wrong since his arrival. However bad or strange they believed his behaviour to be, Mark was just an ordinary boy. He had been kidn*pped by the most feared wizard, taken away from everything he knew and loved, with the promise that the crew would return him safely to England once they had finished their work. At least, that was what he thought was going to happen. Instead, since he arrived, there were fires on the ship, personal possessions going missing, explosions and loud noises below decks and storms at sea. Mark could not recall using any magical powers being used to cause these things to happen, yet somehow all these things were happening because of magic. It couldn’t be him. He wasn’t a wizard. He had never heard of magic before his encounter with Malcheffi, let alone having no magical blood inside him. His parents brought him up away from any sort of magic. It was unspeakable, simply unheard of where he came from. His parents were not wizards either, at least he hoped they weren’t. He had no magical abilities to make all these things happen. So, how could the crew of the Lady Sinatra really believe that it was him who had caused all these strange things to happen? And what exactly did they want from him? There was only one explanation. He had been framed. Exactly who had framed him, he did not know. He could not tell. He didn’t know the crew well enough to know exactly who was behind the missing money, the fires, or the rough storms at night. Nor had there been any lawful explanation as to why some of the crew of the Lady Sinatra had died without any rational cause. At least a dozen bodies had been thrown overboard in the space of a few days. It must have been a natural illness. It was more than likely where they were, in the middle of the cold sea. Pneumonia, or some other illness or disease which must have made its way on board the Lady Sinatra. Or perhaps there was someone on board who was trying to poison the crew? Either way, they did not sound like attacks. It just wasn’t plausible. It surely wasn’t Mark’s fault, either. But when he thought about it, how could Mark really be capable of committing such horrendous crimes? He was just a boy. He didn’t have the skill or the knowledge to commit such terrible actions. Who could be accusing him? Then it occurred to Mark. It couldn’t be a coincidence. This was a sorcery which Mark could never have imagined. This was all caused by terror. Fear. Horror. Dark magic. If that sort of thing were to exist in the first place. The sort of horrors you read in stories from the Brothers Grimm and the likes of Dracula and Frankenstein and other stories which Mark’s parents had told him about over the years. The kind of stories that can haunt and t*****e a person. Those which live inside the mind, where one questions whether such things could actually be possible. He scrambled around in his pockets. It was still there. The wand of Captain Sigourney Malcheffi. A thin, purple stick with golden writing bearing the name of the dark wizard. The very one that was given to him by the only friend he had on this ship. It had ended up inside his jacket. How no one had noticed that the wand was missing, Mark had no idea. He was just relieved that this was his only way off the Lady Sinatra. This was far too overwhelming for young Mark Cannidor, a boy with no prior magical experience. It almost felt as though someone was after him. Someone with dark powers. Someone who could use Mark for their own gain. Someone who had an ulterior motive. There was someone on the Lady Sinatra watching him. Following him… Spying on him? Or maybe they were controlling him. Keeping watch on his every move. Or was someone trying to take revenge on Mark? For what reason would they have to seek revenge on an innocent young lad? Young Mark was powerless. He was scared that, if he was captured for any reason, he would be killed if he got into the wrong hands. If the crew on board the Lady Sinatra found out that he had stolen Malcheffis wand, he might be sent back to Britain and tried before a court of law. Then again, that would not be possible. Mark could not use magic. Unless… Mark had all the evidence he needed. Mark was in possession of the very thing. The wand of Captain Malcheffi. It was in the hope that, if he could hand this into the authorities, he could eventually turn him in. Mark had witnessed some of the horrible crimes that Captain Malcheffi had committed, and young Mark Cannidor was determined to put him behind bars. What else did Mark have to do to prove his innocence? ‘I say we return to England,’ Captain Malcheffi suggested. ‘We need to hand young Mark back to authorities. It’s only the right thing to do’. There was an uproar in the captain’s quarters. There were cries of outrage, anger, and frustration from within those four walls. ‘Captain, that will set us back from our work!’ shouted one of the crew mates. ‘We need to be on the continent in time for this service. We need to exchange the goods on time as per the contract. If we turn back now…’ ‘If?’ barked the head chef again. ‘There’s no if about it, Sonny! We should hand our stowaway to authorities on the continent. End of story’. ‘Oh please,’ said the captains wife. ‘What will the authorities do? In case you haven’t forgotten, magic is still legal in some areas of Europe. They will go nowhere near the young lad. That much I can tell you’. Mark felt like a bucket of ice had been poured over him. How could she know that he was a wizard? There was not a drop of magical blood in his body. It was preposterous. It was all a horrible lie. ‘But think about what he has done to our ship!’ the cook shouted. ‘Theft! Arson! Murder! It’s treason. I’ve never seen so much damage caused by an individual. I say we have more than enough evidence to back up our case. The authorities shouldn’t listen to him. They’ll take him to a school for orphans, and then we can get on with our mission’. There were excited murmurs of agreement within the quarters this time. Mark felt uneasy. Trapped. And the truth was that he knew too much. Perhaps it was because he had been exposed to magic… No. It wasn’t right… His heart was pounding. It was too late. If Mark was taken back to England, he would be handed over to the government and tried for wizardry. He couldn’t imagine how the crew were right – the authorities wouldn’t give a care in the world about his testimony. He could be sent to a specialist school or put in prison. Maybe he would face certain death, he wasn’t sure. As for his parents…if they learned that their son had been taken away… The consequences would be far too dire. It was no good. Either way, it was clear to Mark that he needed to get off this ship. Now. He ran. Ran as fast as his legs would allow him. Despite his legs feeling weak like jelly at that moment, Mark’s only plan at that point was to be free of the Lady Sinatra forever. As he reached the top of the steps leading up to the main upper deck, he looked around at his surroundings. Crew members were maintaining some of the masts. A few kids who were his own age were happily playing games. Not a care in the world. They were safe. He wasn’t. And he could see that the captains first mate was at the wheel, making sure that all was in order and that the ship was moving in a steady direction. Mainly, the ship’s people were minding their own business. This was the only opportunity available to Mark. He had to go overboard. Whichever way he did this, he had Malcheffi’s wand. It was still clutched into his hand, away from plain sight but ready to use, nonetheless. He would try to use this to make his escape. He knew that he probably shouldn’t, but this was an emergency. His only plan at this point was to try use magic. However, he had no idea how to use Malcheffi’s wand to conduct magic. He didn’t know any true spells. He learned a couple in fantasy folk tales, but surely, they couldn’t be used in the real world. It all seemed very unusual. He had the dark wizard’s tool to perform spells, so why not? This was a chance he would have to take. On the starboard side of the ship were a dozen emergency lifeboats used by the crew if they needed to evacuate. Surely, magicking one off the ship wouldn’t hurt. Then again, why would Mark care whether there were enough lifeboats left for the crew? And, at this point, what harm would it do if he were to use magic to escape? He didn’t know any spells, but he could at least consider in his mind what he wanted to do to escape. Surely, that couldn’t be difficult. It would take some concentration, but due to the situation he was in, he had to remain confident. The people on this ship were so cruel towards him. They were hostile, arrogant, and quite simply rude. If anything were to happen to them, it would be of no fault to Mark at all. He had little clue about what he was doing, but Mark took his chances. He had to think carefully about what he wanted to achieve. He studied the wand carefully, thinking. Just thinking about the end goal… He pointed his wand towards the main mast. With a spark, it caught fire. Just the diversion he needed. As the crew started to panic and attend to the fire, Mark seized his opportunity to magic a lifeboat outside of the ship’s perimeter. The plan was simple. Mark would launch himself into the lifeboat, magic a few supplies over, and speed of into the dark night. Freedom would finally be his. Once again, making sure no one was looking, Mark pointed his wand towards a lifeboat. The chains holding the lifeboats into place sprang open, and the lifeboat hovered. Using the wand, he raised the boat, and he directed the boat to hover over starboard. With all his might, he tried to magic the boat to stay in place. ‘Look!’ a girl screamed, pointing at Mark. ‘That stowaway boy is getting away!’ ‘And he’s…is that magic?’ asked a small, red headed boy with freckles. His mother had to cover his eyes and draw him away from the catastrophe. ‘It’s that weird lad the captain brought on board!’ shouted another crew member. ‘Captain! Captain Malcheffi! The wizard is getting away!’ Struck with fear and anxiety, Mark became distracted. He had drawn so much attention to himself, it was impossible to regain his concentration. The boat he was trying to control fell into the water with a loud splash into the sea below. Quickly, Mark ran over to starboard. He looked down and saw that some water had splashed into the boat. ‘He’s getting away!’ barked an angry voice behind him. ‘Oh no, you don’t!’ shouted Captain Malcheffi. ‘You get back here at once!’ Mark looked round his shoulder and saw a crowd of angry crewmates trying to reach Mark as quickly as possible. He screamed as he pushed with all his might to escape. As he looked round once again, his eyes met those of Captain Malcheffi. Mark had no other choice. He had to jump. As a sudden last-minute thought, Mark grabbed a small crate of what he hoped would be enough supplies to keep him going and jumped for it. He narrowly missed the boat, instead hitting the water. He didn’t care about what was in the crate, but it had crashed into the sea with him, which made it easier for him to float on the surface. He resurfaced just in time. From up above, he could hear screams, cries for crew members to jump down and seize him, and the sound of pistols and spells shooting down at him. Mark used the crate as a floating device, one arm holding onto the crate and the other grabbing onto the side of the boat. He struggled to swim towards the boat with the crate under his arm. It was too much work, and it was painfully tiring. Luckily, after several painstaking moments, Mark grabbed onto the boat. He pulled himself and the crate in, then frantically scrambled around for the wand. A shot hit the side of the little boat, leaving a dent which resulted in water flooding in. That didn’t matter to the young lad. Mark tapped the wand onto the boat, and it started to float above the rough waves. He sped off into the night without a second thought. One final last look up to the ship, and some of the crew members were starting to slide down some ropes. For Sigourney Malcheffi, it was too late. Alas, Mark Cannidor found what he wanted. With just one tap, he zoomed off into the darkness of the night, away from the Lady Sinatra. Freedom at long last.