Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

Alōs’s nerves danced with a fighting mix of relief and dread.

  In the midst of the calm waters, three large islands stood proudly in the distance, while smaller isles floated above in misty clouds. Woven bridges connected them like silk spiderwebs, and glowing waterfalls crested their shores, pooling into the sea below. Thin fishing boats slid by lazily, their lanterns spots of warmth in the dark. But what drew all visitors’ eyes was the palace that stretched up gracefully from the center island, soaring above the dense foliage that covered the land. The architecture was a spectacle of shimmering starlight that looked as though it were made up of diamonds, and thin silver turrets sprouted from every rooftop, allowing floral blue ivy to climb and wind over their expanses. It was a castle that inspired bedtime stories and the promise of better times. Here floated the islands of Esrom, a sanctuary for all of Aadilor.

  Banished or not, Alōs could not help the twinge of pride he felt whenever he looked upon it.

  Anchoring the Crying Queen in a hidden inlet along the southern side of the main island, Alōs steadied his resolve as he went to instruct his crew to stay aboard.

  None had dared disobey the order since Tomas. Tomas, whose skull was now a bookend in Alōs’s chambers.

  Striding along the main deck, he passed Niya, ignoring her penetrating gaze on him. She no doubt wondered why they were here. But as she must learn, like the rest of his pirates had, no one questioned the captain when it came to Esrom.

  Alōs stopped beside Kintra where she waited for him by the portside banister. “I do not know how long this will take,” he admitted, a squeezing discomfort hugging his chest at what he was about to do. What he had been guilted into doing. “But I will be back as soon as I can.”

  “We’ll be here, Captain,” said Kintra, her features filled with understanding. “Take whatever time you need.”

  He had confided in her regarding Ixō’s visit, but still, he did not enjoy any grain of pity. He was Captain Alōs Ezra, the most merciless pirate in Aadilor. Pity was not for the likes of him and his cold heart.

  “Make sure she behaves,” he said, not needing to explain who “she” was. “Tie her back up if need be.”

  “I can hear you, you know?” said Niya from behind them.

  They both ignored her.

  “Aye, Captain.” Kintra nodded.

  Alōs faced the distant beach on the main island, where gentle waves hit the shore in a rhythmic crash. He took a deep breath in, tasting the sweet air. His gifts had replenished quickly once he’d entered his homeland; his muscles felt stronger, his mind sharper. The sea was everywhere, and his body vibrated with the sensation.

  With a final resolve and a prickling of ice armor running over his skin, Alōs grasped the banister and swung himself over the rail, dropping down. He stopped right above the water, his magic flowing out of him like a waterfall, pushing against the gentle waves beneath his feet. Alōs hovered in midair.

  Forward, he thought, which was all it took for him to float away from his ship and toward his old home.

  He approached a small, secluded beach; his boots crunched against the sand as he stepped onto land.

  Alōs paused, staring at the dark awaiting jungle that spilled out along the perimeter. He had not been on these shores in a very long time.

  But he had taken on more frightening things than this, so with sure footing he continued forward.

  The fresh scent of night and moss greeted him as he entered the forest. The air cooled as the buzz of bramble beetles and light hoppers filled the night’s silence. Twilight blooms glowed purple and blue, painting the trunks of trees in an array of colors, lighting his way. Not that Alōs needed light. He knew these woods intimately, and no amount of time away would have had him forgetting the paths he had taken many times as a boy.

  Alōs soon stepped from the wild tangle of trees onto a dirt road. A large ivy-covered wall stood between him and the capital city on the other side. Alōs stared at the stone. As a child, he had climbed those vines before falling and skinning his knees. But he had not cried. Alōs would learn later the amount of pain required for him to shed tears.

  Turning left, Alōs remained in the shadows on the fringe of the road, ignoring the spots of light cast by the lanterns along the wall to his right. He took note of how their normally orange flames had been switched to ones that glowed silver.

  Esrom was in mourning.

  Yet despite knowing why, Alōs kept his emotions placid.

  He’d already had his time to mourn the dead many years prior.

  No one met him as he made his way down the path, and eventually he stopped in front of a wooden door that he knew hid behind dangling vines. Parting them, Alōs gave two, then three knocks.

  The door swung open with a rusty creak, revealing Ixō on the other side. The High Surb held a torch that threw flickering light across his metallic brow tattoo. His glowing turquoise eyes were filled with pain beneath his hood.

  “They’re gone,” said Ixō in greeting. “Tallōs left us by the time I returned. Your parents are now together again in the Fade.”

  The words settled atop Alōs’s skin like hot ash from a pyre.

  They’re gone.

  He dared not speak.

  Ixō waited, no doubt hoping Alōs would reveal grief, some sliver of emotion.

  He did not.

  With a frown, Ixō turned and led them down into a cool tunnel, one that eventually changed to limestone and then marble walls.

  Panic shot through Alōs as the fragrance of jasmine reached him and the familiar soft trickling of meditation pools echoed down the passageway like a warning. They were about to enter the palace.

  Ixō pushed aside hanging vines, revealing a courtyard.

  Glowing ponds filled the circular space with light. Moonlight lilies bloomed with purple buds on the water’s surface as firebugs floated through the space like pollen.

  The courtyard sat empty, quiet, as Ixō took hurried steps to cross through.

  Alōs drank in the spiral columns lining their walk, up to the vaulted stained glass ceilings, a majestic scene of a blue sky. Silver adorned every edge, every curl of a candelabra, every crack in the intricate tiled floor.

  Familiar. It was all too familiar.

  Alōs shouldn’t be here. He should never have come.

  Especially as he felt his gifts buzzing across his skin with contentment, crooning and sighing with longing recognition of the magic that stirred heavy in these halls, the power that flowed from the High Surb who led the way.

  Stop that, he commanded silently to his gifts, ignoring how they hissed when he hardened them to ice in his veins. He could not afford nostalgia.

  Ixō stopped at a corner, making sure they were still alone, before turning down a smaller hall, a less opulent one meant for servants to pass through. Their path twisted, had them climbing stairs before they were blocked by a wall. Or what seemed like one. Ixō placed his torch in the awaiting holder mounted nearby, and with a quiet click, a hidden door slid open.

  “Ready?” Ixō hesitated at the threshold.

  Alōs stared at the low candlelight streaming in from the room beyond, his feet feeling chained down.

  Ready?

  No, he thought before striding past the surb.

  Immediately he was hit with a heady dose of incense and the heat of a roomful of candles ablaze. In the center of the chamber stood a magnificently carved bed whose canopy depicted a twinkling night sky. As Alōs walked around it, he did not look at the bodies beneath the sheets; instead his attention remained on the young man who stood at the foot of the bed.

  He was dressed immaculately in seafoam green, the material, which was detailed with white thread, draping his thin body in an intricate wrapping of loose pants and long tunic. His smooth brown skin shone with youth, but what set him apart was the addition of silver skin running over his hands and up his wrists like frayed gloves. The same metallic discoloration ran down from his dark hairline and over his forehead, as if he had
been turned upside down at birth and dipped in a pool of liquid metal. It was a marking of a sickness stopped, of death frozen.

  Candlelight glinted off the man’s sharp alabaster crown as he turned his head. Milky-white eyes landed on Alōs, the bit of blue they’d once held now a faded dream behind a thick veil. Though the young man was blind, Alōs knew he had other senses to help him see.

  “Brother,” whispered Ariōn.

  The word rang in Alōs’s ears, the sound a mix of exhaustion and relief.

  Brother.

  Alōs had not heard it spoken by this young man’s lips in a very long time.

  Without thought, he walked forward, pulling his younger brother into an embrace. “Ariōn.”

  It had been three years since they last were together, and many more since Alōs had been in this bedchamber, in this palace. But as he held Ariōn, breathing in his familiar scent of mint and sea air, it felt like no time had passed at all.

  “They are gone,” said Ariōn, his voice still sounding so young. “It is just you and I now.” He stepped back but did not let go of Alōs.

  This was when Alōs noticed the falling of sands. His brother had grown since he’d last seen him, now almost equaling Alōs in height. His shoulders were wider, too, but his hands were still boyishly soft, his chin void of stubble.

  “They asked for you,” continued Ariōn. “Each before they went to the Fade. Mother and Father, they asked for their sons.”

  Their sons.

  The words sent shards of ice falling from around his frozen heart. Alōs held in a wince of pain. Dangerous. It was always dangerous to come here, and not just because he wasn’t allowed. Alōs couldn’t play the caring older brother and remain the ruthless pirate. One would always win out over the other, and he could not let emotions in, not when it had taken him so long to force them out. He could not hurt if he did not feel, did not need to mourn if nothing was lost. And to give up this land, this peace and beauty, his family—and to survive beyond it—Alōs had to leave behind everything that went with it. Himself included. He was no longer a brother. No longer “their son.” He was not Alōs Karēk, firstborn to the crown, but Alōs Ezra, the infamous pirate lord.

  “Their son was with them,” said Alōs. “You were here.” He stepped from Ariōn’s grip and was met with a frown.

  “But we both should have been.”

  “Do not lessen your final moments with them on my account. It happened as it was meant to, or have you learned nothing from your High Surbs’ sermons?”

  Ariōn glanced toward Ixō, who had remained quiet in the shadows.

  A shared concerned expression marred each of their faces.

  But Alōs’s attention turned from them as he finally gave in to the pull that had hooked into him since he’d stepped into this room. He looked at the two bodies lying motionless in their bed.

  Their hands were clasped together above the sheets. Eyes closed. Their dark, aged skin was a shade paler, grayer, stiff. Their white hair was combed neatly beneath their silver-dipped coral crowns.

  These lifeless bodies had once been Alōs’s source of eternal happiness; now they were the source of his deepest guilt.

  The king and queen of Esrom.

  Alōs stared at Tallōs and Cordelia Karēk and waited.

  But the bitter irony of manifesting a cold heart, of fortifying it so thoroughly against emotion, was that it worked. For as Alōs gazed upon his dead parents, he felt nothing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Niya knew she was going to follow Alōs as soon as he left the ship.

  He might be her captain, but he was not her king, no matter what he thought.

  Leaning against the railing, Niya stared at the main island’s distant shore, at the silver-spun palace, which erupted through the thick green vegetation like gemstones through dirt.

  Alōs walked on water, she thought with unease. Bree had been right.

  What else was he capable of?

  Despite their past intimacy, it was growing apparent they had been as good as strangers then.

  Niya shifted with discomfort at the thought. It appeared the pirate captain had many tricks up his sleeve that she had yet to learn.

  And learn she certainly would.

  While the crew seemed entirely too uninterested in why their captain had gone ashore alone, she was crawling with curiosity.

  What did Alōs need in Esrom so badly that he’d diverted them from their journey to the Valley of Giants? Did it have to do with this red stone he sought? But most importantly, why did he hide within his own homeland?

  He had docked them deep within this shadowed cove. Out of sight.

  Niya’s curiosity was not merely overflowing. It was drowning her.

  Alōs is afraid of something in Esrom, thought Niya. Why else would he go to such pains to remain a ghost in his own home?

  Whatever the reason, she needed to find out what it was immediately.

  Leverage, her magic cooed.

  Leverage, she agreed, tapping her foot impatiently.

  If played right, whatever was here could be the key to shortening her binding bet.

  A desperation gripped hold of Niya. She had to get off this boat.

  Turning around, she glanced over the deck.

  Saffi was leaning against a cannon on the starboard side, talking with Therza. Green Pea and Bree were sitting together up on the ropes of the mainmast, feet dangling in the cool night air. Emanté sat in a nook by the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, head back and eyes closed. Kintra and Boman were most likely below deck or in the galley with Mika, while the rest of the pirates were in similar repose, relaxed, lazy, taking advantage of their captain’s absence. For who knew how long he’d be gone.

  It took hardly a grain’s fall of thought for Niya to conclude what she needed to do next: spell a ship full of pirates to sleep.

  Niya had already learned that brute force was a familiar adversary for this crew. One she had yet to win against them. Stealth was needed here, magic as subtle as the evening’s breeze.

  After they’d spent a night of debauchery in Barter Bay and then immediately been ordered to set sail, it was only natural they take advantage of their captain’s absence with a nap. A very long nap.

  Niya stalked closer to Saffi. Those with magic she would need to take care of first. As soon as those with the Sight saw her haze of powers, they’d know something was up.

  Taking up a rag found at a nearby cannon, Niya settled herself behind the master gunner. With each wipe and shift of her body, she let her magic slip from her, keeping it low and to the ground.

  Sleep, it whispered in her veins, crawling to slink up Saffi’s legs. Niya sensed a tug of resistance, the thick layering of the master gunner’s gifts growing aware of an intruder. Saffi shifted to glance behind her, a furrow on her brow, but Niya was more gifted than she, and like a lioness pouncing, she forced her magic to lunge forward, smacking Saffi right in the head, a cloud of red. The master gunner blinked, dazed, before a loud yawn overtook her and she fell into Therza’s arms.

  “By the stars—” Wide, confused eyes landed on Niya as the short woman tried to hold on to Saffi’s much larger form. But then Niya gave a flick of her wrist, and Therza, too, was covered in a hazy mist of Niya’s magic.

  Both women fell to the deck, asleep.

  Niya smiled, continuing to pour out her slumbering spell as she swayed around the deck.

  Close your eyes, she fed into her movements, a lulling whisper. Rest until I return. She twirled around Felix and a few more of his cockpit team. They each sank to the ground, snores sounding. Feeling emboldened, Niya let her spell grow stronger as the pirates began to nod off, one by one. Until the entire Crying Queen was covered in her magic, any soul within range falling drowsy before lying down for a long nap. Bree and Green Pea dangled above, heads bowed over rope, unconscious.

  Coming to a stop, Niya stood on the quarterdeck by the wheel, taking in her work. Across the ship, men and women leaned o
n one another, heads bowed, eyes shut; others sprawled along the deck, curled around coils of rope or bent along the banisters of crow’s nests, asleep. The gentle sway of the ship a mother’s rocking, the movement feeding further into Niya’s gifts.

  “If only you were here to see this, Ara,” said Niya, hands on hips as pride filled her. “No longer could you say I am too reactionary, for this one I thought through.”

  Yes, she imagined her sister answering. And look what that got you—exactly what you desired.

  “Sticks,” said Niya sourly. Arabessa’s advice had been right, again. “She’s always right,” she continued to grumble as she descended below deck, pushing her spell to meet any pirate in her way, before she went to find Kintra.

  The quartermaster was in the captain’s quarters with Boman, looking over maps laid out on Alōs’s desk. Kintra glanced up at the squeak of a floorboard and frowned, finding Niya in the doorway. “What do you—”

  Niya threw up her hand, cutting off Kintra’s question and sending the potent magic she had gathered on deck to hit the quartermaster square in the face. She and Boman collapsed, one on top of the other on the desk. Tiny mewls of sleep filled the room.

  With a giddy grin, Niya danced her way back up top, singing a favorite lullaby of Larkyra’s.

  Slip quiet into your tangle of dreams

  Let your eyes grow ever so heavy

  Sleep is waiting to taste new schemes

  You could not create in your daily medley

  Sleep soundly, sleep deep, sleep away

  Until awakes a new day.

  Close your mind and I shall close mine

  It is time we block out our worries

  Now is our chance, my dearest, my darling,

  to make all our other stories

  Sleep soundly, sleep deep, sleep away

  Until awakes a new day.

  Once on deck, Niya turned her back on the slumbering ship, intent on finding where Alōs had gone.

  It was awkward work lowering one of the boats strung to the side and rowing to shore by herself, but she managed. As Niya did most things. She had grown stronger in her time on the Crying Queen, her body molding different muscles than it had under any of her previous training, the skin along her hands and feet calloused from rougher work than throwing knives and kicks.