Curse of the Forgotten City

by Alex Aster

  “How about my emblem?” Engle asked enthusiastically. “What would I do if I was an assassin?”

  Violet glanced at the spyglass on his skin and shrugged. “You’d be the lookout. Nothing surprising about that, I’m afraid.”

  After their plates were empty, Violet offered them a place to stay for the night. “I have plenty of rooms,” she said. “And a penchant for guests.”

  Though Tor wanted to, they couldn’t. Melda produced the small arenahora from her pocket. “We have a long way to go and not much time,” she said.

  “I see. Another time, perhaps.” Violet peeked through a sliver of exposed window. “I don’t see them anymore, but who knows what’s lurking out there. I’ll take you through the back way.”

  Violet led them down to the bottom level of the town house. It looked like an ordinary bedroom until she slid over the bed, revealing a hatch.

  “These tunnels run all through the city,” she said, opening it. “And are only accessible by a select few.” She whistled, and her lark flew into the room. “She’ll show you the way,” she said. “If I can ever be of help to you, just say my name to the nearest bird. Word will get to me.”

  Tor thanked her, and climbed in first. The tunnel was made of stone and was small enough that Captain Forecastle would surely have to hunch over. Melda, last to say goodbye, jumped as the bird sped past her, down the corridor. It led them like a guiding star, beneath the many dangers—and wonders—of Perla. Already close to the docks, it took just a few minutes before the lark showed them to a door that emptied out in a quiet corner at the base of the harbor. Engle went first, to make sure the coast was clear. The bird chirped a last goodbye, and Tor watched it fly back down the tunnel.

  Then, on swift wind, they finally left the City of Seekers.

  The Young Princess

  There once was a princess who lived in a castle on the coast. The young royal spent hours in one of the castle’s towers, eyes fixed on the water. She stared so long at the sea that the sea began to stare back.

  Come closer, child, it said.

  So one night, she snuck out of bed. She creeped past guards and down to the sand, which had always been forbidden.

  Three heads bobbed within the waves, and the princess knew them to be mermaids.

  It was rumored that long ago, one of her ancestors, a king, had lured a siren from the sea and made her his queen.

  The call of the ocean had been passed on to the princess, and she took a step into the water, unable to resist.

  Come closer, the sea said, and the mermaids smiled.

  With each step into the water, the princess found herself changing. She yelled out as her legs turned glittering blue—screamed as they began to come together.

  By the time the mermaids reached her, she could not run away, she had no legs to run with. Only a tail.

  And so the sea took back what had been stolen from it long ago, evening the scales.

  14

  The Silver Scale

  Captain Forecastle kicked his feet up onto a barrel on the deck as if he had never left.

  “I suppose he did save our lives,” Engle said, shrugging. “If he wants to help, we should let him.”

  The pirate was the least of his worries. Melda’s hourglass had emptied considerably since they had been attacked by the capsizal. If they were to have any chance at finding the pearl in time to save Estrelle, they needed to find it soon.

  If the ice keeping the Calavera at bay unfroze before they returned, it was all for nothing.

  Tor thought about the Night Witch’s visions and what the assassin had said. The spectrals were planning something… Is that what the Night Witch was so afraid of? What she had warned him about?

  He remembered that Vesper had said something about them on the first day of their journey. He took her aside.

  “What do you know about spectrals?”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “Why?”

  Tor ground his back teeth together, wishing she could just give him a simple response. “Swordscale bans writing about violent topics, yet you know about them. How?”

  Vesper stilled. She was silent for a moment, before saying, “Why do you ask so many questions, Tor?”

  He saw Melda out of the corner of his eye walking toward them. Tor didn’t want to worry Melda or Engle about the Night Witch’s visions, not yet. Not when they had so much else to consider.

  “Never mind,” he said and joined his friends.

  Melda seemed in a better mood than usual, which Tor imagined had everything to do with the assassin’s mention of the giantesses. “Are you ready?” she asked Tor.

  He raised an eyebrow at her.

  “To chart a final course.” She called everyone to the helm.

  Engle pulled the compass from his pocket and handed it to Vesper. She closed her eyes, and, as per Captain Forecastle’s instructions, thought very hard about the pearl.

  “A drop of blood would help,” Captain Forecastle said quietly.

  Without hesitating, Vesper made her dagger charm large enough that Tor could see its blade and pierced her hand with it.

  Blood dripped onto the compass’ glass.

  They held their breath.

  The needle whirled around and around, fast as lightning, as if invigorated by the blood. It swung this way and that, in endless sweeps, before finally settling on a direction. North.

  Tor commanded the ship to follow.

  Finally, finally, they were headed for the pearl.

  Captain Forecastle yawned and murmured about needing a good night of sleep. Before he could leave, Melda stopped him. “What else did you hear about the pearl in Perla?”

  He shrugged. “Just that those three characters were looking for it there. The captain, the spectral, the silver-haired one, like her,” he motioned toward Vesper.

  “That’s all?” Tor asked.

  “There was something else about the Calavera captain… He was sniffing around for an enchantment…” Captain Forecastle gave him a pointed look. “Something to melt ice.”

  Tor stiffened. “Did he find it?”

  “Couldn’t tell ye.”

  Melda began walking in small circles, head down. “This is good. If they had already found the pearl, they wouldn’t be looking for a melting enchantment. They could simply unfreeze the sea themselves.” She brightened. “We still have time then, we could still find the pearl before them.”

  Tor hoped she was right.

  They didn’t know where they were going—so they didn’t know when they would get there. All they could do was go forward, blindly following the compass.

  And hope time wouldn’t run out.

  Tor ran into Vesper in the hallway before bed. “Has it healed?” he asked. The cut she’d made in her palm had looked deep, and Melda had concocted a simple elixir to soothe it. Vesper had shrunk the compass and now wore it on her charm bracelet.

  She looked at him, dazed, like she might not have heard him.

  He lowered his head. “Are you all right, Vesper?”

  She blinked. “Um—yes. Of course. Just…tired.” She gave him a curt nod, then retreated to her room.

  Tor noticed her green eyes had been slightly swollen and pink at the creases.

  Like she had been crying.

  The next day, Tor woke up shivering beneath his sheets. They had kept traveling north throughout the night, and the weather had turned, quite suddenly. He asked the boat for thicker clothing and piled the layers on before leaving his cabin.

  Melda was on the deck, wrapped in her blanket, sitting beside Engle. Tor snapped his fingers and a mountain of jackets appeared, along with a pile of wool blankets, socks, and a table lined with warm drinks—hot chocolate, canela tea, and hot rum for Forecastle.

  The pirate merrily tilted his hat at Tor, then went straig
ht for the drink.

  “You know, lots of really interesting fish live in temperatures like this,” Engle said after taking a jacket and hot chocolate, which he finished in an impressive gulp. He peeked over the side of the ship, and Tor wondered how far into the sea he could see. “Ombré haddocks, longtail connies, lemon sea snails, giant salmon, ribbon-tailed flounders.”

  Melda quickly turned to face him, intrigued. “And how would you go about catching a giant salmon?”

  Engle frowned. “Those types are very sensitive to movement, so if I wanted to catch one, I would make lots of motion in the water to try to attract it.”

  Melda beamed at him. “Great. Catch one.” She undid the bright golden ribbon from her hair and handed it to him. “And use this as bait.”

  Engle frowned, then shrugged.

  Tor looked at Melda as she walked over to him. “You really think it’s out here?” He knew exactly what she was hoping Engle might catch, only because he had finished the Book of Seas in the last few days. Engle clearly hadn’t.

  She shrugged. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?” She took a hot chocolate, topped it with a fat dollop of cream Tor had thought up, and sat down to watch Engle make a plan. “If anyone can catch a mythical sea creature, it’s him.”

  Vesper joined them on the deck twenty minutes later, sitting next to Captain Forecastle, who was brushing through his beard with his miniature sword. The waters had gotten so cold she couldn’t swim in them, and she stared down at the sea longingly.

  “We’re waiting, boy,” Captain Forecastle said to Engle from across the deck, rum sloshing around in his mug.

  Tor grinned. “I hope you don’t plan on using yourself as bait instead of the ribbon.”

  Engle stuck his tongue out at them. He had been trying to come up with a plan for almost half an hour. At first, he had wanted to jump into the water himself and splash around. Melda had quickly shot that idea down, citing not only the sharks that had trailed the ship for the last few miles, but also the freezing water. Engle had asked Tor to ask the ship for a number of things, none of which he had touched.

  Tor watched Engle lean over the ship, his belly on the side, and cup his hands around his mouth. He started yelling, then singing, butchering some of the pirate songs Forecastle had a habit of singing in the morning.

  “There once was a fiddle

  That smelled like a…riddle?

  And played music sweet as a gem…

  Enchanted it was,

  to make songs that we love

  Until something…something happened…”

  Captain Forecastle winced at Engle’s pitchy voice and took another swig of drink.

  “Wait, I actually know this one!” the sightseer said.

  “There once was a captain

  Who’d been everywhere I’d been

  From Tortuga to Perla to Estrelle…

  Though one day he made port

  Ran into the wrong sort

  And fell victim to a blood queen’s spell

  From that day and on

  His luck was all gone

  And his ship was swept into a tempest

  In the hurricane he resides

  Each year taking more lives

  For the crew of his stormy ghost ship!”

  Vesper rolled her green eyes. “If you want to catch a salmon through movement, your voice won’t do much, lovely as it is. It doesn’t travel well—from the surface down into the sea, it barely makes a vibration.”

  Engle stopped his singing and turned to her. “What would you suggest, then?”

  She sighed. “We’re going to need some planks.”

  * * *

  “Ready?” They were all stationed at different points throughout the ship, two planks in each of their hands. Engle looked behind him, making sure they were in position, then said, “Now!”

  In one solid rhythm they beat their planks against the ship’s sides like it was a giant drum. Vesper had explained that the vibrations made would attract fish much better than singing. Tor was surprised Captain Forecastle agreed to help, and he smirked as he watched the pirate half-heartedly thump his instruments against the wood. They continued beating, Tor’s arms quickly getting sore, before he saw Vesper was right.

  Dozens of curious sea creatures approached the boat, surfacing from the great below. A few sharks, with heads he’d never seen before. Some long, exactly like a saw. Some squished, their eyes on opposite sides. Some with two eyes on one side, like a flounder. Some with two giant, sharp front teeth like a vampire.

  Tor had now slowed the ship to a crawl, almost completely still.

  “How much longer of this, boy?” Captain Forecastle asked, barely hitting the side of the ship yet looking just a few breaths away from passing out.

  “Just a little longer!” Engle said. He drummed more enthusiastically than anyone else, seeming to have an endless stream of energy. “I’ve never seen a giant salmon,” he said dreamily. “Wait, is that an optagorp?”

  “What’s an optagorp?” Captain Forecastle asked at the other end of the ship, still thrumming, sounding out of breath.

  Engle squinted intently, then brightened. “Vesper, get ready!” he yelled, grinning at the sea, fishing rod with the ribbon in his grip, seeing something no one else could. Vesper rushed to his side, dropping her planks to the deck.

  She waited, hand outstretched. They all stilled, stopping their drumming until Engle yelled at them and they kept playing. Hands moving at a rapid pace, Tor stood on his toes and watched as something bigger than even the sharks surfaced, golden and sparkling, like the sun reflected onto the sea. Before it could swim away with the ribbon, Vesper shrunk it down, then floated it to the deck.

  As soon as it touched the wood, it expanded, and Tor jumped back.

  In its full size, the fish was bigger than Tor. It thrashed and splashed around wildly, and he thought it might simply jump back into the water.

  The sundrop salmon’s golden scales were mesmerizingly bright. They were reflective, fracturing sunlight into miniature, blinding rainbows. For a moment, Tor was frozen, spellbound, the same way he had been dazzled by the Melodine’s song over a month before.

  Only one scale was a different shade—the silver of swords.

  His first reaction was to take it. But Tor froze. He had read the story and knew what had happened to the fish that had tried to steal the salmon’s scale.

  His breath caught in his chest as he realized they probably should have made a plan. The salmon thrashed violently along the deck, whipping this way and that. They would likely have to simply let it go, the scale wasn’t worth one of them dying trying to get it…

  “Stop,” Melda commanded, her loud voice shocking the fish still.

  Part of Tor wanted to tell Melda that her leadership emblem didn’t work on animals…but the salmon had listened. Her marking couldn’t control the fish, however. It only had the ability to convince.

  Melda inched closer, reaching a hand toward it, careful not to touch. “Your scale. Would you be willing to part with it?”

  The salmon jolted.

  Melda stumbled back. Tor thought it might attempt a jump off the ship or bite her, but there was a glimmer, and the silver scale slipped off, a golden one waiting just beneath it.

  “Quick, we don’t want to kill it!” Engle said.

  Vesper shrunk the salmon again, then deposited it back into the water in its full size. It promptly swam away, joining the rest of the fish, which had left after the drumming had ended.

  “Everyone else must have tried to simply steal it,” Melda said quietly. She bent down and carefully took the scale between two fingers. It looked slightly translucent, and smooth, similar to the mother-of-pearl inside the compass.

  “What does it do again?” Vesper asked. She eyed the golden ribbon, still in the water,
as if finally realizing why Melda had insisted it be used as bait. The salmon they had caught was no ordinary fish, clearly. Tor thanked the universe again that Melda had read the stories so carefully.

  Melda pressed a finger against the scale, and it shimmered. “According to the Book of Seas, it magnifies an emblem’s power.” She admired it from all angles. “It’s a rare, coveted treasure.” Jaw very tight, Melda handed it Vesper. “Here.”

  Engle blinked in shock. Tor didn’t dare say a word.

  Melda shrugged, her nose very high in the air. “You should hold it…for now. None of our emblems can truly be amplified to make much of a difference, but yours…” She sighed. “Even Violet said it, there are other ways, beyond the obvious, that your power is useful.”

  Vesper raised an eyebrow, surprised. A moment passed before she carefully took the scale. It glowed in her palm. She nodded, then shrunk it down, adding it to her bracelet for safekeeping.

  Engle grinned. “I did it,” he said triumphantly. “I caught a mythical sea creature. And practically all by myself.”

  Melda gave him a look.

  Engle ignored her and skipped to the table of warm drinks, grabbing himself a handful of congratulatory marshmallows meant for hot chocolate. With three in his mouth he said, “Hey, Forecastle, how’d you end up in that hole, anyway?”

  Captain Forecastle sat on a barrel, and it groaned beneath his weight. “That there’s a long story.”

  Engle turned toward the helm, squinting. He faced the pirate again. “Nothing for miles. We have time.”

  Captain Forecastle shrugged. “All right then.”

  Tor, Melda, Vesper and Engle sat on blankets before him, the pirate looking quite pleased to have an audience.

  “The truth please,” Melda said. “No exaggerated hogwash.”

  Captain Forecastle grinned. “Not to worry, young leader. This story hardly needs embellishing.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “Thousands of years ago, something on Emblem Island erupted, charring the whole island. Chunks of its original enchanted core went flying like mad, and were lost in the sea—unmatched treasures…jewels coated in power. The first pirates hunted these to their watery death. Why? Because just one had enough ability to topple cities, to end the greatest of enemies.” He took a long swig of his drink. “Over time, these ores of energy were split into many more pieces, then forged to make The Twelve. Objects, they were. A necklace, a ring, a pocket watch, a sword, a fork, even! Wouldn’t know it was so powerful unless ye made the mistake of touching one. Each pirate king received one, to be passed along his line. To split power equally.