by Ashley Nixon
Barren scowled. He was mocking them.
The man looked around at his prisoners, and he seemed to be counting, or perhaps looking for one person. “I believe I had heard Lady Larkin was a member of your crew, yet I do not see her. Disappointing.”
Barren tightened his fists.
“Unlike others, I was cheering for you,” he said. “But it is so fitting that a noble lass would run to her father when things get hard.”
There were things Barren would never be able to hear about Larkin, things that, no matter how angry he might be at her, were never okay. So he snapped. Pulling his knife from his boot, he attempted to launch himself at the captain but found himself on his back staring up at the dark sky. The captain laughed.
“I should kill you for that,” he said. “But I’m much more interested in the angry Barren.”
He was allowed to stand, but his arms were held tightly behind his back. “Why didn’t you let that thing kill us?”
“Do you know what that thing was?” the man said. His accent, combined with his wide brown eyes, made the question feel heavy. Barren just blinked. “Of course you don’t. It is a Makar. Do you know why it attacked you?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps I was in its territory?”
“No, this is our territory. It attacked you because you have magic,” he said. “It is only drawn to magic.”
“Captain,” a voice called. Barren turned his head and saw one of the Corsair’s holding up his hand. “They have them.”
Barren turned to the captain. “Have what?”
The pirate walked to the captain and Barren heard the clank of bullets as they were dropped into the man’s hand. The captain’s eyes met Barren’s. Suddenly, he understood. Aryes ship had not been destroyed by Corsairs. It had been destroyed by that creature. The Makar.
“You don’t really have to ask, do you?”
Barren turned to face the captain completely, as if he were preparing to pounce. “You don’t want to use those.”
“I don’t?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side. “Don’t you?”
“They’re not what you think they are,” Barren said, and that anger the Corsair captain so much admired from Barren came back. This time, the man’s eyes brightened and Barren went still. The thud of the captain’s boots sounded as he made his way toward Barren. He drew back the collar of Barren’s shirt, exposing the ashy color of his skin.
“You are sick,” said the man.
Barren could only glare. The captain seemed pleased as he drew back.
“Take them away,” he said and suddenly a cloth hood found its way over Barren’s head. He struggled, but not for long as pain spread through the back of his head and all went dark.
Barren wasn’t sure how long they sailed, but soon he was being guided to his feet and directed off the ship. The gentle incline of the boarding plank led to a hard surface. Rock, Barren suspected. Which told him he was not on a typical island. This was some sort of hideout. A cave, perhaps.
He was moved forward, a steady hand on his arm. They walked some distance. There were a few twists and turns, and then Barren’s feet were kicked out from beneath him. He hit the ground hard and the hood was yanked from his head. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what was around him. And what was around him surprised him.
They were in a room. Barren couldn’t tell if this was a cave or some sort of stone structure. It was illuminated by a fire which burned at the center of the chamber. And there were several arched openings that allowed for a view of the outside. If it were light enough, Barren imagined the sea would meet him at the window. There were barrels scattered around, probably wine and ale, and sacks of potatoes, cabbages, apples and pears.
After a moment, he heard more footsteps and saw the rest of his crew. He counted. They were all here. His eyes fell on Cove, specifically when his hood was removed. The ambassador was pale, but his eyes were still fierce and determined. Barren was happy to see the fight remained. The men brought Sara last, which made everyone tense. She was guided to the floor to sit, and when her hood came off, her eyes shot to Cove. Barren had to look away.
“Are you impressed?” Barren heard the captain’s voice and he turned to see him approach. He had a piece of bread in his right hand. The cape still covered his left.
“Perhaps,” said Barren. “If it was light.”
The man laughed. “Do you know where we are?”
“At some point, you’re going to stop asking me ridiculous questions.”
The man just seemed more amused. “These are the marble caves,” he said. “Very hard to navigate if you’re not familiar.”
“Is that a warning?”
The man shrugged. “I suppose that’s up to you to determine.”
The man walked past Barren and his crew. For a moment, he kept his back to them, and then he removed the red cape. It slithered off his shoulder and to the ground. Then he turned and took a seat. He popped a piece of bread into his mouth, smiling as he chewed. On his right arm, he had tattoos that wrapped around him like a snake. The other arm, which rested on his leg, was covered with an iron cast. Barren couldn’t take his eyes off it. It ran from his wrist to the bottom of his elbow. Barren didn’t imagine it was comfortable or easy to wear, but it didn’t appear to be coming off anytime soon.
“You won’t figure out what it is if you don’t ask.”
Barren met the man’s stare, and the playfulness he’d maintained was suddenly gone, replaced by something dangerous. He leaned back in his chair, bringing one leg to rest over the other. “Your father had your curiosity.”
“You didn’t know my father.”
The man cocked a brow. “You sure about that?”
“You’re…you look my age. There’s no way you knew him!”
The man patted the iron cast. “I suppose this does have its perks. I don’t age. Can you guess way?”
“You continue to test me with your questions,” Barren said, but the captain was no longer paying attention to him. He clapped his hands and stood. “Oh, I love family reunions!”
Barren wasn’t sure what he was talking about until a familiar voice responded, “Shut up, Dom.”
He twisted from his place on the floor. “Devon,” he said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
He was not restrained in any way, and he was dressed in clothes similar to those the Corsair captain wore: the sleeveless blue shirt, dark pants, and boots. He looked the same, scars and all, his gray hair in a ponytail.
“Untie them,” Devon ordered, and the Corsairs listened. As the bonds came off Barren’s wrists and he was allowed to stand, he faced Devon who now stood beside the Corsair.
“You’re working with Corsairs?”
“Don’t sound so disgusted. I’m right here,” said the captain.
“It might make you feel better to know this is a recent occurrence,” said Devon, but when he saw Barren’s face, he added. “Maybe not.”
“He’s just like his father,” said the Corsair captain. “He doesn’t trust what he doesn’t know.”
“You didn’t know my father!” Barren yelled.
“Devon, help me out here,” the captain was enjoying this far too much.
Devon did not look pleased. "Dominique is cursed, and so he does not age and while his behavior might lead you to believe he is younger, he is about my age."
“Dominique Esquivel,” Barren whispered. “You’re the man Em was talking about? The man who survived the vacair wound?”
Dominique was also the man who had split from the pirates of Silver Crest after the Barbary Wars and created the Corsairs.
“I wouldn’t say survived,” he said and he flexed his hand. “This cast keeps me from dying, but not from the pain of death.”
Barren looked between the two. “And you know each other how?”
“We both served on your father’s crew,” replied Devon. “Until he deserted, and my memory was taken.”
“By deserted, you mea
n he left to start the Corsairs of Avalon?”
“He says it as if I didn’t have a good reason,” Dominique commented to Devon, who wasn’t amused by his light-hearted spirit.
“The story goes that you betrayed your captain, my father,” Barren said. “Can you have a good reason for that?”
“I do,” he said with a smile, and Barren got an uneasy feeling. “Your father is the reason I must endure this curse. He is the one who shot me with the vacair.”
Barren lifted his head a little, ready to defend his father, but what did he really know about the situation?
Instead of accusing, Barren just said, “Explain.”
“Your father and I didn’t see eye to eye on this magic thing,” Dominique said. “When we intercepted ships, we took the weapons. He wanted to destroy them, and I wanted to use them. I suppose you can guess the rest. We got into a fight, and I took a bullet. It was probably good for me, showed me why your father was so fearful of them. When I split and founded the Corsairs, the curse had not yet begun. It wasn’t until I began to feel the pain that I changed.”
“And why the cast?”
“Iron keeps the magic from progressing,” he said. “I guess you’ve figured out on your own what it will do. Takes your life force…slowly, it will consume your essence.”
“Who gave you the cast?”
“Em gave him the cast,” said Devon.
Barren felt the color drain from his face.
“I already know,” Devon managed to say. “Who was it? Who killed her?”
“A woman, a Lyric,” said Barren. “She calls herself Aethea Moore, but Em referred to her as Halya.”
“Halya, you say?”
“Do you know her?”
“Yes,” Devon said, looking beyond Barren, and the pirate turned around to see some of the Corsairs depart. Barren wondered what that meant. Where were they going?
“She is a second generation Lyric. Her mother was Ara, and if she is anything like her, she will only ever want power.”
“And revenge,” said Dominique. “When you destroyed the bloodstone, Lyric came rushing back, along with everything it had created, curse and monster alike. That’s how I knew what you’d done. The pain came back. What you have not guessed is that with the destruction of the bloodstone, Lord Alder became vulnerable. As you’ve learned from Em, I am sure, he is not a popular figure among the Lyrics.”
Barren glanced at Leaf. The Elf was very alert, glaring at Dominique, daring him to speak ill of the king. Dominique laughed.
“So it should also be no surprise that some of the Lyrics who escaped D’Avana and survived wish ill upon him.”
“Em said the vacair are new, that a Lyric has made them recently. Do you think they were made by Aethea?” asked Leaf. “Do you think they are meant for my father?”
Dominique laughed again, as if what he heard was amusing. “You have not yet figured out that your father is the supplier of these weapons?”
“My father cannot use magic,” Leaf replied bitterly.
“Of course not, which is why he has enslaved Lyrics at the Ore Mines and drained them of their power.”
“I thought the Ore Mines remained unoccupied,” said Barren. It had been thought that Tetherion would use Aethea’s attempted assassination to obtain the Ore Mines, but they had heard nothing more on that subject. Further, Aethea had said that Tetherion was not aware of the vacair. Had she been wrong? Or was Lord Alder keeping a secret?
“Lord Alder has never been one to follow mortals’ rules,” said Dominique. “Indeed, his hope is to destroy the human race. I daresay, I never thought I’d see him make the same mistake twice.”
“I-I don’t understand,” said Barren.
“Of course you don’t,” said Dominique. “Jess Reed was nice enough to protect Alder after he discovered that the Elf King funneled weapons—vacair—into the Octent and the Orient during the Ore Wars. Lord Alder’s hope was that the Orient and the Octent would go to war and destroy each other. Because if there is one thing Lord Alder hates most in this world, it is mortals. Jess offered Alder an ultimatum. He wouldn’t tell a soul about his treason so long as he gave up the King’s Gold.”
“You are lying!” Leaf accused, and he stood. “My father would never allow something as dangerous as this to happen. He despises magic!”
“Do you know your father?” Dominique asked, his eyes burning with fury. “If you want proof, go to the Ore Mines. See what your father is planning first hand.”
Leaf moved to attack, and Barren held him back.
“Leaf,” Barren said.
“You don’t believe him, do you? You cannot believe my father capable of something like this. He didn’t want the bloodstone found. He knew it would bring magic back!”
“He didn’t want the bloodstone destroyed because he knew it would give Lyrics the power to destroy him. It would also make him a slave to Tetherion once again,” Dominique straightened his shoulders and raised the iron cast so that Leaf was forced to look at it. “I don’t blame your father for looking for a way out, but what he’s chosen means our world will be destroyed.”
“And why should we believe you, a man who turned against his own kind? You’re not necessarily known for your good will,” said Leaf.
“And neither are you, so we’re essentially the same,” Dominique started to leave. “Let me not give you the choice. You will visit the Ore Mines. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
Dominique left them then. Barren turned to face Devon. There was something different in his eyes. Perhaps he was looking at Barren this way because he’d been one of the last ones to see Em alive, perhaps he blamed him. “Devon,” Barren said quietly.
“I have to agree with him this time,” he said, and he left, too.
Barren met Leaf’s gaze. “Whoever my father has become, it is because he has only ever tried to do what is best for his people,” said Leaf.
“You may be right,” Cove said quietly. “But more than one kind of people occupy this world and all must learn to live side by side.”
Leaf moved away from them, and though Barren knew the Elf could still hear, he looked to Cove.
“He needs time,” said the ambassador, his breath was short, his skin ashy. “Everything he knows has fallen apart in the last week.”
Barren knew how that felt, but so did Leaf. Was it fair that he had to go through this devastation over and over again?
“If what we've heard is true, Aethea will tell Tetherion of Alder's plans. We have to warn Lord Alder.”
“It will be some time before Aethea reaches Maris,” said Cove. “Let us hope that is enough time.”
While Barren was just as eager to find out what was at the Ore Mines, he wished he could protect Leaf from whatever they would see there because he knew it wasn’t going to be good.
Dominique returned after a moment and walked to Cove. He carried a steaming cup in his hand.
“Here, this will ease the pain, help you sleep,” said Dominique, handing the cup to the ambassador. Cove drank the tea without hesitation and fell asleep shortly after. Dominique left again, and there was silence for a long moment until Sara rose and came to kneel before Barren. Her wide blue eyes met his.
“You won’t let him die, will you?” her eyes brimmed with tears.
Barren’s throat was tight. If this had been Larkin, he wouldn’t have hesitated in telling her the truth. He would have said he wouldn’t promise, he would have explained the reality. But Sara was different. He reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly.
“I’ll find a way, Sara,” his voice was low, rough. “I promise.”
And Barren never made promises lightly.
Barren woke early. He moved outside the strange room and found himself on a stone bridge, which lead to another room. He had no desire to speak, and so he sat outside and watched as the world awoke. He could not see the sun rise, but he followed the light as it burned away the darkness inside the cave. No warmth came from the b
rightness and the cold ate through his thin clothes, but the beauty before him was distracting enough that he didn’t mind.
The water at his feet was turquoise in color, reflecting off several marble structures erupting from the surface of the water. Some appeared to be large, solid walls, and others formed haphazard arcs creating a tunnel-like passageway. Barren wondered where it led, but also believed it to be a trap. At least an opponent with a blade hinted at his next move, but nature was a great deceiver, as it was truly unpredictable.
“You weren’t thinking of swimming away, were you?”
Barren turned to see Dominique standing in the door of the opposite room. He wore a long sleeved shirt this time. The red cape covered his injured arm, and in this white and turquoise world, it flickered like a flame. Barren wondered if he hid his arm because he despised it. The pirate turned to stare at the water again.
“I would like to, but I do not trust the water,” he said.
He heard Dominique laugh and then the soft tread of his boots as he joined Barren on the bridge. “These marble caves were created by the water. She is a fine sculptor, is she not?” The question was met with no answer, and so Dominique continued. “Of course, she is as fine a killer as she is a sculptor, and as clever with the world as she is with her army.”
“Army?” Barren echoed his words.
“We were not called to sea to enjoy its splendor,” said Dominique, as if the very thought was a joke. “She is a vengeful spirit, the sea.”
There were old legends that spoke of the sea-spirit, just as Dominique was now. Some called her a goddess and others a serpent. The Elves had a name for her, Acionna, and the Elders tended to use her tales as bedtime stories. There were times when Barren echoed those legends and believed he answered to something in these vast waters. He didn’t understand it, and wasn’t sure he wanted to, so he kept quiet as Dominique spoke, choosing to watch the light dance off the walls of the marble caves instead.
“Come, she will not want us to linger much longer,” he said and turned, trusting Barren to follow.
