by Deirdra Eden
I gathered my courage and descended, squeezing my eyes shut as I slipped from the last rung of the rope ladder to the water below me. My feet hit the hard surface Alamar had created for me, twinging my ankles, which hadn’t been ready for it. Alamar took my arm in his and led the way across the solid surface.
Once on the safety of the dock, I breathed fully for the first time since leaving the ship. I cinched my cloak tight around my body and covered my face with the hood. Torches lined the fort and towers surrounding the city. Alamar held his arm around my shoulders protectively and led me down the filthy streets toward the main tavern.
Women dressed in ale stained lace and flaunting dresses called to the men from the sides of the streets. Their faces were painted in heavy white powder, blood red lipstick, and thick eye paint. Some of them had drawn black moles on their cheeks and around their nose. They danced and jingled bells they wore around their necks and ankles. When a man strode by, they bent low to display their plunging cleavage.
I had never seen women act so unrefined and promiscuous. Two pirates stumbled toward the line of women who rang their bells wildly when they approached. The pirates didn’t care about who they were; they just snatched the two closest women and hurried off down the street to dilapidated wooden buildings. I cringed at the abusive way the men handled them.
“Are you all right?” Alamar asked.
“Yes,” I forced myself to answer and pushed the tragic images from my mind.
A group of three bandits, dressed in billowing black coats, eyed us. Alamar pulled back his cloak to show he was armed.
“This is like Hell,” I whispered under my breath.
“Welcome to Drakeland.” Alamar chuckled darkly.
Footprints left pools of water in the muddy road, glistening in the firelight coming from the door of a tavern built of rotted island timber. Part of the roof had caved in and was mended with straw. On one side of the tavern several lean-tos served as an inn.
“All travelers stop by Olde Marlo’s,” Alamar said. “Maybe the innkeeper has seen our man.” He pushed open the door, and I took in my last breath of semi-clean air before we entered the filthy, pirate-infested tavern.
Alamar’s gaze darted around the room. Stringy haired pirates with pipes of tobacco hanging from their lips watched us. A woman with a worn face served bread and drinks to the guests as she resisted their bantering and crude comments. I couldn’t help but think of Alamar’s mother when I saw the barmaid.
Without loosening his grip around my shoulders, Alamar marched to the counter. “Excuse me, sir.” He caught the attention of a burly man with a long, scraggily beard. Colourful beads hung from dreadlocks that dangled like dead rats around his face.
The man gazed at us with dark, sunken eyes. “I need to see the woman before I let her ‘ave a job here. A woman who hides her face is sure to be ugly.”
I wanted to tell him he had it all wrong, but reminded myself to let Alamar do the talking. I was only there to help find the murderer and protect Alamar if a fight broke out.
“She is not looking for a job,” Alamar said. “She’s my sister.” The burly man laughed with a mocking tone, but Alamar ignored him. “We are looking for a man with a tattoo on his forearm, a snake coiled around a human skull.”
The innkeeper tapped his lips thoughtfully. “Yeah, I seen that,” he said, surly. My heart raced in anticipation for our first clue. The innkeeper smirked. “What’s it to you?” he asked.
Alamar slid a few coins under his hand and dragged it across the counter top. He kept his hand over the coins, but lifted it momentarily to let the innkeeper count the money.
“I’ve seen a man with a tattoo like that, but he don’t come often. And I haven’t seen him since about a year ago. He works on a ship that doesn’t dock like others.”
“So he’s a pirate?” Alamar took his hand off one of the coins.
The innkeeper expertly snatched the coin off the counter and slid it into his pocket. “Yeah, he’s pirate all right, ‘bout yeh tall,” He held his hand to his shoulder.
“Do you remember his name?” I asked from behind my hood.
The innkeeper shook his head. Alamar dropped a bag of coins on the counter top. All the patrons of the tavern turned and stared at us when the unmistakable sound of coins clanked together.
The innkeeper hesitated then leaned across the counter top. “I’ll tell you what. Come back tomorrow and I’ll ‘ave a name for you.”
I looked into the innkeeper’s small black eyes. His gaze shifted erratically and never met Alamar’s gaze fully—he was lying.
Alamar swept the bag of coins from the table. “Then I will pay you tomorrow. I expect you to have better information,” he said in a hard tone as we turned to leave.
A man’s voice shouted from the corner of the tavern, “Aey, there he is. That’s the filthy dog who fired his whole crew for a wench.” I turned to follow the voice and caught sight of a man I remembered from Alamar’s ship. “He’s gone soft and scabbed us all,” the pirate accused. The men in the tavern mumbled profanities under their breath, all glaring at Alamar and I.
“Let’s go.” Alamar tugged on my arm and I followed him out the door.
“The innkeeper is lying,” I spoke through my teeth. “I’m sure he must know where the man we’re looking for is.”
Alamar hesitated, probably working out if it was a good idea to reenter the tavern and risk a fight if it meant finding out more right away. He grumbled in Italian under his breath. “The tavern owner will likely warn him if he does know and the murderer will gain an advantage over us if he realizes I am looking for him.”
I reached for Alamar’s arm. “If he escapes us now, it won’t be for long. I know a ship that can out pace any vessel on the sea.”
Alamar looked flattered. He opened his mouth to reply but a bottle shattered against his back. Ale and glittering, razor sharp glass sprayed over us.
He spun and brandished his silver sword. A dozen men from the tavern trudged toward us in a drunken stupor. The pirates produced decrepit weapons and rushed us. I flung my cape open and spun two daggers around me with adroit skill. The blades whistled through the air deceptively fast.
The thugs eyed the daggers and backed way. They were about to run when someone from across the street yelled, “Aye, it’s a fight!” Suddenly the street filled with every low life thief and pirate in the vicinity. Scores of thugs surrounded us and closed in.
Alamar glanced at me. A smile turned on his lips. “Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?”
He obviously referred to whether or not we should use our powers. “The easy way is no fun,” I answered with a playful grin.
“You take this side.” He swung his sword toward a crowd of men on our right. “And I’ll take this side.” He motioned to the left.
A gangly pirate, armed with only a broken bottle, turned to the man on his left and whispered, “Do you suppose they knows sompin we don’t?” He was obviously referring to the way Alamar and I were confidently challenging half the town.
“Only one way to find out,” was the reply.
A dagger hurled through the air. In a flash I flipped my spare dagger into my other hand and caught the blade flying toward me in my immortal fist. My fingers crushed the sharpened metal. I dropped the weapon and redistributed my own daggers in either hand.
“Did you see that?” a voice cried. “It’s a witch.”
“I am not a witch,” I snapped through tight teeth. The reference always brought horrible memories of living with Hazella to the surface of my mind.
A pirate with a wide brimmed hat lifted a small weapon that looked like a miniature cannon and aimed it at Alamar. He pulled the trigger and a ball of fiery metal shot toward Alamar.
Chapter Twenty
The Clue
I dove in front of Alamar. The red-hot ball hit my shoulder blade. The flattened metal ball dropped to the ground at my feet. He froze, his wide eyes filling with fear. He gl
anced at the ball on the ground before returning his gaze to my face.
“It’s time to go.” He raised his hand and drops of water sprang from the puddles on the road. Muddy water swirled around us and shot in all directions. The thugs scattered in confusion. “Hurry!” Alamar snatched my hand and whisked me down the road toward the entrance of the village.
“There they be!” a gruff voice shouted. “Don’t let ‘em be gettin’ away!”
Alamar and I raced out of the gated city. It seemed like all of Drakeland was against us. Most of the pirates involved in the fight didn’t even know why we were fighting. I turned to the crowd and stood my ground.
“What are you doing?” Alamar shouted. “Run!”
I raised my hand and a pillar of fire blocked the exit of the village, trapping the angry mob inside and keeping them from following us to the docks.
Alamar laughed darkly. “You never cease to amaze me.”
We raced along the grey sand beach, laughing like two pranksters who had just pulled off a mastermind charade. After we had put plenty of distance between us and the town, we stopped running and searched the deserted beach.
Alamar sat on a piece of white driftwood and bent over his knees, breathing hard from our sprint up the beach. I sat beside him and rubbed my back where the small ball had hit me. The damage had left a hole in my cloak and clothing.
“What was that weapon?” I had never seen anything like it. My first thought was that it was a secret weapon from the Dark Rebellion.
Alamar’s calm voice contrasted mine. “It’s called a gonne.” His features tightened into a stony glare. “A hand cannon or a gun.” Suspicion laced his tone. “No one survives after being hit by a bullet the way you were.”
I laughed, trying to sound confident. “The gun must not be as strong as everyone thinks.” I had always been a bad liar, and by the way Alamar tightened his jaw, it was clear I hadn’t improved recently.
He put his finger into the hole of my cloak. “You are not even bleeding.” He pulled away and stroked his chin. “I figured out your secret.”
I gulped several times to smooth out the lump in my throat.
“I know you are invincible.” There was no doubt in his voice. “I have suspected it for a while, but it is time for us to be honest with each other.”
The waves of the sea crept closer as Alamar studied me. I stood and took a step away from the approaching water. I tried to change the subject. Nodding back toward the town, I put my hands on my hips and asked, “What do we do now? The innkeeper at the tavern could be warning the man who killed your mother as we speak.”
Alamar raised his eyebrows as he stood. “Perhaps,” he finally said. “We will go back to the dock and wait for him. If the man with the snake tattoo was warned about us, he may try to board a ship to escape.” He strode briskly toward the dock. I marched beside him, wondering how he had explained my immortality to himself.
“I see now why you kept this power from me, my love,” he said, his lips spreading into a wide smile.
“You promised not to call me that anymore,” I reminded.
He laughed, and my skin prickled at the arrogance in it. This was the side of Alamar I didn’t like. “It proves everything I said was right,” he continued. I ignored him, striding onward, but he easily kept pace. The sand shifted constantly underneath me, unnerving me as much as this conversation did. “Your invincibility proves you are a demi-god, just as I said.” He sounded so smug that I longed to tell him the truth and wipe whatever triumphant expression he had on his face right off. “When I first saw you, I suspected it,” he went on, careless of any reaction from me. “I pulled you out of the sea and saw how beautiful you were. Your lungs were completely filled with water, but your heart hadn’t stopped beating. I drained your lungs of the cold salt water. I knew you should be dead, but you weren’t.” He gripped my wrist and spun me around to face him. “I knew Apollo would honor the alliance with Poseidon and create you for me.”
“It’s not true,” I said and yanked my wrist from his grip. I didn’t know what was worse, Alamar finding out I was Immortal or Alamar believing I was from a mythical god.
“When I cut you in battle, you didn’t bleed,” he went on.
“My powers, my invincibility,” my tongue tripped over the words. “Are because I am a Watcher.”
Alamar kicked a piece of driftwood into the ocean. “Face it, Auriella, the druids have you brainwashed. You believe in a legendary kingdom. No one has ever seen it, therefore it does not exist. There is no Erebus, there is no Neviah, and you have no king!”
I came to a halt. My throat tightened with emotion, so I couldn’t speak louder than a whisper. “I could say the same for your stories as well.” I pointed a finger accusingly at him. We were friends at times, Alamar and I, but I could see it hadn’t changed anything about his beliefs, and it never would. It was time, once and for all, to cut my losses with him and hope that the druids would be able to send someone more successful than I in my place. “I promised you I will help you find the man who murdered your mother,” I said, my words burning with a fire that rose inside me. “But after that, I demand you leave me at the nearest port so I can wash my hands of you.”
Alamar’s expression turned hard. “Fine,” he spat. “But don’t ever go near the water again or I will send you, my worthless gift, back to Poseidon.”
I spun away from him without another word. I would help Alamar find the murderer, take him to the authorities, then I would go back to the sanctuary and report on my failed mission. It was foolish to think I could change Alamar when he, himself didn’t want to change.
I reached the base of the dock first and searched for a good place to hide so we could see who came and went from the boats. When Alamar joined me I said, “There’s no point in both of us hiding out here. One of us should stay and one of us should search the island.” Perhaps this chase would be over sooner than I hoped, and I could get home. Then I wouldn’t have to be near Alamar and his stubborn attitude.
Alamar nodded, his body language as tense as mine. “All right, you stay here while I go look in the city.”
I grabbed his shoulder and held him back. “I don’t think so. I have better stealth than you do and if a ship tries to leave the dock, you can use your powers to stop them.”
He narrowed his eyes, and then surrendered. “Fine, but if you find anyone you suspect might be the murderer, you must bring him to me.”
I didn’t reply as I left him on the beach and raced back to the pirate village with inhuman speed. My fingers pierced the wood of the fort as I sprang over the towering wall.
Daylight would come soon and fugitives were retreating into the inns to sleep the day away. I slid against the walls of the village shops and darted between empty barrels in the narrow alleys until I reached Olde Marlo’s Tavern.
I scaled the tavern timbers until I found the place where the roof had caved in. I slid in-between the broken planks of the roof and dropped into a dark, empty room like a graceful jaguar. I made my way to the doorway that led into the hallway of the upper story. Without making a sound and keeping to the wall I hurried down the hall and to the stairs, where I spied the main tavern room below. A single candle burned from a back room where the innkeeper cleaned up for the night.
I prowled between tables and chairs, toward the front desk. If I could search the innkeeper’s books, perhaps I could find a clue about the man with the snake tattoo.
A bell jingled as the door to the tavern swung wide open. I dropped behind one of the tables and crouched low in the shadows. Three men in cloaks strode ominously toward the front counter. Their polished boots pounded against the wood floor like a sharp beat of a drum. The men kept their faces veiled and their shoulders square under the heavy layers of cloth.
The innkeeper emerged from the back room. “May I help you?” Even though he must have seen his share of scoundrels, the dark presence that seemed to emanate off these men affected the innkeeper as they
had me. I shivered from more than just the cold.
“We are looking for a pirate named Alamar,” one of them said.
I covered my mouth to muffle my gasp. It shouldn’t have surprised me that authorities of some kind were looking for him. He had spent years plundering ships. I recalled the sailors he had robbed just a few days before. That was bound to put a price on Alamar’s head.
The innkeeper didn’t ask for a bribe, but offered the information readily. “He was here earlier this evening, looking for a pirate with a snake tattoo. The man he sought had bought a bunch of supplies from me and taken off into the jungle. Alamar was with a woman. Both of ‘em started a nasty fight then retreated toward the dock.” He pointed, his finger trembling. The innkeeper saw all kinds of rotten men yet appeared so intimidated by these cloaked men.
The three cloaked men stared at each other as if communicating through telepathy. They marched across the floor and exited the inn without another word to the innkeeper. The door slammed shut, and the innkeeper wiped the sweat from his brow on his dirty sleeve. His tired face lined with worry before he pulled a sword out from under the counter and returned to the back room.
I had all the information I needed. The murderer was not planning to leave the island or stay in the town. The jungle was his hideout. With the innkeeper in the back room, I crept across the main floor of the tavern and slipped out the door as well, careful to hold the bell above it still as I exited.
The streets were completely empty, except for a drunk lying in the mud, and no sign of the men who’d left the tavern only a few minutes ahead of me. I watched the drunk’s chest rise and fall with breath to be sure it wasn’t a dead body someone had discarded. Even the prostitutes in this town seemed to have retired for the night. This was no man’s hour. The dawn would be coming soon. With any luck, the murderer would be in the hands of the authorities by noon. The question was, would they search for him first or for Alamar?
I reached the docks and Alamar looked surprised to see I had returned so soon. “That didn’t take long.”
