A Journey to the Mind




The ship bobbed gently in the harbour, sleek and streamlined, it was built for speed. It had golden hued timbers and clean white sails. Its figurehead, like most in that era was a woman, but this one was different; her wooden tresses streamed back merging with the ship itself, symbolising her speed, her face was of astounding beauty, but her hands held twin cutlasses, a symbol of her strength. Speed, beauty and strength combined, she was the Sea Queen and her crew, the Ladies of the Ocean. Her captain was walking along the docks talking with the first mate.

These two seemed the odd pair. The captain of the ship was tall and muscular,; her skin was black, pure black as was her hair, but her irises were white, shining like stars against her night dark skin. By comparison her first mate was small and slim, her skin, pale, showed only a few scars, a testament to her rough life. Her golden hair fell free to her shoulders, framing a face which was pierced by eyes the colour of the deep sea.

“So, Tamra,” the black lady was saying, “how are our little girls?”

“Well, we have been here for barely an hour and already they have started three tavern brawls.” The blonde, Tamra replied.

The black lady gave a small laugh, “What over?”

“You won’t believe this Visoca,” Tamra replied with a small chuckle of her own, “it was those boys from Flamewings’ dingy again, trying to score.”

Upon hearing this Visoca laughed long and loud. As she cleared away the tears of laughter she gasped out, “They will never learn.”

“But seriously Visoca,” Tamra said, her tone changing entirely, “this kind of thing, its not a good idea here…” she petered out.

“Continue” Visoca said, still seeming slightly amused.

“You know how the culture here treats women.” Tamra began.

“Yes, they are things, considered fit only for cooking and sewing.” Visoca replied, anger now tinting her voice.

“Well the men here do not like you; they claim you are encouraging the women to leave their proper place. Inciting rebellion.” Tamra continued.

“Do not dwell on it Tamra, we shall be fine.” Visoca seemed to have regained her previous happy mood.

Tamra became quiet, watching, inspecting her captain. Visoca was still barefoot as she was aboard her ship. She wore a typical white long sleeved top and a pair of crimson tights. Visoca’s waist length black hair was pulled back loosely. Unlike most captains she wore little jewellery; a few rings, two or three bangles and a single earring in each ear, all these gold. She also had a small diamond nose-ring, which only served to draw attention to her diamond tinted eyes.

Visoca watched Tamra in return. Unlike her captain Tamra was wearing her soft boots, those that sailors only wore when onshore, she was dressed though in similar clothing to Visoca, only that her tights were the same colour as her eyes. She wore even less jewellery than Visoca, a single silver ring, a single silver bangle and a sapphire nose-ring.

Visoca became distracted; a slight stinging was spreading from a spot on her shoulder. Tamra’s expression had changed to on of shock and agonising fear, focused on Visoca’s left shoulder. Slowly Visoca turned her gaze towards her shoulder, and there she saw embedded a small blowdart. Hazily she looked up to see a number of women in sailors garb running towards her, her crew. Suddenly she fell to the ground, pain like a thousand stabbing swords infused her entire body, rendering her helpless.

Visoca could hear female voices “Visoca” “Poison” “Get help” “Where?” “Healers street” “Flamewing has a healer” “hurry” “Visoca”

But all this was lost on Visoca, who could not comprehend anything, her mind too clouded by the pain which coursed through her body. A liquid was forced down her throat and for a moment she could understand the voices.

“She is very lucky, it was a common poison.” One voice claimed.

“Will she be alright?” That was Tamra’s voice.

“She is strong, she has a high- “

Visoca hear no more as a fire coursed through her body, banishing the swords of before. Blissfully she fell into unconsciousness.



Visoca paced the deck of the Sea Queen, staring out to the sea which stretched in all directions. Loud was the creaking of the timbers, the lapping of the waves against the ship, but some sound was missing and Visoca could not tell what.

“Common sense would indicate that the sound missing is the voices of your crew. It can be seen they are missing themselves.”

Visoca spun to see that the speaker was herself, or seemed to be herself. Visoca knew there were differences but her mind would not process them.

“Where am I?” Visoca asked.

“Common sense would say you are in your own mind.” The other pointed out.

“But why?” Visoca queried, “Maybe the poison?”

The other thought hard, “If we apply common sense to the things you, we, heard, what do we come up with?”

Visoca thought, “A poison, common but with a low success rate in healings I would assume.”

“Common sense would point to one in particular then.” The other stated.

Visoca became distracted “That’s what you are, aren’t you, my common sense.”

The other gave a smile, “That would only be common sense.”

Visoca examined her common sense closely, noticing the clothes, the jewellery and the eyes, the deviations from her own form.

“Why do you wear the clothes and eyes of Tamra?” Visoca asked.

“Well, common sense would say that Tamra is the one in the crew with which you most associate common sense.”

“We must get back on track.” A new variant on Visoca had appeared, this one wearing a long purple skirt and a white blouse; spectacles rested in front of eyes as green as seaweed and under her arm was a book of charts, otherwise she was identical to Visoca herself.

“You wear the garb of my navigator, wait you must be my knowledge.’ Visoca concluded triumphantly.

“The poison, mindweed, those who wake up after being cured of this poison can sometimes have totally different personalities. Now, this occurs because during the cure of the poison minor personality traits such as us may uprise, seeking control of the body. You must stop them.” Visoca’s knowledge proclaimed.

“Well then, how can I trust that you two will not try to take over?” Visoca asked.

“Because I am am smart enough-“

“And I have the common sense-“

“To know that we need all parts of the personality to function; we need you. Now we have warned you,” The two alter versions began to fade as they continued; “now we go, and you can knock down the upstart personalities.”

With that they were gone, leaving Visoca once more alone on the Deck of her faithful ship the Sea Queen.

---

Tamra looked up as the cabin door opened and a large imposing man entered. He was dressed extravagantly, a white top frilled out from under a sky blue coat and flame orange tights tucked into large boots. His red wavy hair brushed his shoulders and his beard was lush. Foremost of the many pieces of jewellery he wears is a large earring, gold and rubies, crafted into the shape of an outstretched wing.

“Oh it's you Flamewing.” Tamra said, worry tinting her voice, “What did your healer say?”

“The poison mindweed sends the mind stormy before killing, the cure only stops it from killing, she must still ride out the storm.” He looked sadly towards the inert Visoca, “But Tamra, how are you going?”

Tamra sighed, “The crew has promised to mutiny if I declare myself captain, not that I'd want to, but are still willing to follow me if acknowledge Visoca as captain. How are the other captains taking it?”

“We have suspended all our activities here and plan to give you and honour guard when you choose to leave. Then we will make sure that all others know what has occurred here. Visoca was... is well loved, no mercenary ship will stop here until Visoca herself forgives them.”

The door closed gently, Tamra's mouth perked into a small smile, “Thanks Flamewing, that will give them some hope.”

Flamewing deflated with a small sigh and sadness tinted his voice as he asked, “How is she?”

“She hasn't stirred,” Tamra said, returning her attention to Visoca's still form, “Once I think she murmured my name, but maybe I was wrong. I am so worried.”

“We all are, but we have to keep a brave face for our crews, she was well love, not only by her own crew.”

“I know.” Tamra said softly.

They fell into silence, both watching the comatose form of Visoca, sadness tinting both their faces.