Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  They made it through the next wave, one much smaller, and the storm was suddenly at their backs; the Crying Queen had sailed through.

  Niya breathed heavily, her ears ringing with the echoes of retreating thunder, and peered out at the tranquil gray water and overcast sky that greeted them. If she hadn’t been able to turn to see the evidence of the shrinking storm behind them, she would have believed it all a dream.

  Though her magic still hummed through her veins, her head still abuzz with the adrenaline of all the recent movement, Niya’s shoulders drooped as a swarm of relief entered her chest.

  She left the bow to walk along the main deck. The ship was drenched, parts of the banister splintered from the storm, crates broken, sandbags spilling out, one sail ripped. But it was still sailing, still floating. The Crying Queen was strong.

  “Well, that was fun,” said Niya, walking to Kintra, who knelt by the port side, handing Mika bandages as he wrapped the few pirates who were cut and bleeding.

  Kintra glanced up at her, a pinch to her brows. “How are you dry?”

  Niya glanced down. Her clothes were no longer clinging to her skin from the storm. In fact, they looked rather perfectly washed and laundered. Her hair wasn’t a soaked mess, either, but felt warm and full in its braid. Her back even seemed renewed. Oh! she thought with surprised glee, looking back at Kintra. “Magic?” said Niya with a smile.

  Kintra harrumphed as she stood, her wet boots squashing with the movement. “Mind sharing the gift?”

  “All right.” Niya rubbed her hands together, gathering her magic into a glowing red ball. She reached up and dropped the mass of heat onto Kintra. It flew down her in a puff, dissipating at her feet and leaving her brown tunic and trousers bone dry, her skin shining like she’d just had a good steam.

  “By the lost gods.” Kintra twisted around, gazing at herself in wonder.

  Niya smiled before the prickling sensation of being watched had her turning to find Alōs standing above them on the quarterdeck.

  He was imposing in his black coat, hands gripping the banister before him as the chill of his energy mixed with the already-cool air. His gaze swung from her to Kintra, who stood by Niya’s side, then to the gathering group of soaked pirates who were poking the quartermaster’s dry clothes like it was a miracle.

  When Alōs looked back at Niya, something in his eyes softened ever so slightly, and he gave her a nod.

  One that could almost be interpreted as a thank-you.

  Despite herself, a warmth seeped into Niya’s chest, foreign and uncomfortable, but she didn’t have long to analyze these feelings: wet sailors were beginning to line up in front of her.

  It appeared she had just been put on drying duty.

  Biting back a smile, she waved the first one forward.

  Niya had just finished drying off the last pirate when a horn blasted from the crow’s nest.

  “Prepare yeselves!” yelled Bree from above. “The Mocking Mist approaches!”

  Niya walked to the banister along the starboard side, peering out.

  She had heard whispers of this mist from the crew, but given they’d still been ignoring her at the time, she had yet to learn what about it had these usually formidable pirates muttering in fright.

  Niya watched the mist slowly grow up from the gray water, as if hands from the Fade were reaching to snatch an unlucky sailor into its depths. Vapor filled the air, clogging the view forward and slowly erasing the ship as it pierced into the cloud. The Crying Queen no longer sailed through sea but floated in a world of nothing. Niya squinted into the whiteout, hardly able to see two paces in front of her. The wooden boards beneath her feet fell out of existence, as if the lost gods had begun to erase this part of the world.

  Green Pea and Felix, who stood nearest Niya, began to back away, frantically shoving their hands into their pockets to retrieve items to push into their ears. Others cupped their hands and crouched into balls on deck before the mist covered them from her sight. Pirates who had just rushed into a storm’s mouth now scrambled and cowered away at the enveloping mass.

  Kintra approached her, extending two small wax balls. “Best be clogging your ears now.”

  Niya took them. “This is the Mocking Mist?”

  “Mmm.” Kintra nodded. “And it is as it sounds, but worse. Now go on—plug your ears. If you can hear me, you can hear it, and no one leaves the mist the same if they listen.”

  Niya glanced over her shoulder, just making out Alōs beside Boman at the wheel. The pirate captain was like a black ink spill in the white abyss, his glowing eyes a hazy blue beacon in the murky air as they peered forward.

  Niya caught Boman slipping in his balls of wax.

  “What about the captain?” asked Niya. “I didn’t see him—”

  “Some men need the mist’s reminder,” Kintra replied simply before she blocked up her ears as well. Niya weighed the balls in her hand.

  Her sisters mocked her all the time. Almost incessantly. She was also part of the Mousai, had witnessed many terrifying frights, and had had audiences with the Thief King in all his varying moods. How bad could this mist really be in comparison?

  Closing her hand around the wax, Niya decided to wait and see.

  The whispers started softly.

  They didn’t come from one direction but all around, as if the air itself held the voice of thousands.

  Hello, Niya, it crooned. Look at you here, amid this lot. How much you’ve aged and wrinkled and burned aboard this ship. What beauty has been lost. What a pity, what a shame.

  A tinkle of high-pitched laughter filled her head.

  Such hard hands and blistered toes. Scars along your back. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. And what will your family do once these two years are through? For that’s how long you’ll be shackled here. You stupid, silly girl. You always bet what you can’t win. You disappoint your family. Disappoint. Your sisters will have no use for you now. No use. No use. They have moved on already. Forgotten you. It’s been too long. And your father, yes, yes, poor Dolion, he will replace you, find another to be a part of his precious Mousai. So much you must have missed. So many adventures your sisters have gone on without you. Who is Niya? No one remembers.

  Chimes of giggles all around as Niya’s breaths grew quick as her deepest fears echoed in the air.

  You’re all alone now. All alone, continued the mist. But you’re used to being alone, aren’t you, fire dancer? The voice took on Alōs’s deep drawl, running cool down her neck. Niya spun around, but no one was there, just fog, just mist. Even when I warmed your bed, you were alone. So naive, so eager to please me. You chose me over your family. Gave me your heart, which I never wanted. Tell me, did you cry after I left that night? Do you cry now? His words swam around her, ripping her open, before returning to the high chime of the mist.

  You are a fantasy, it said. They only desire you for what you’ve spelled into their minds with a turn. A twist. You’ve feared it, Niya. We know. We knoooow. We know your doubts. You are not clever like Arabessa. You are not kind like Larkyra. No one values you for your mind. More laughter. Nonono. Not for you. It’s for your body. For your magic. Only for what they want to be theirs. What they long to touch. Who are you without these? What can you offer your family? What can you offer the pirate? Worthless. Worthless and alone. You are the weakest link in your trio. For look how often you disappoint them. If your mother lived, she’d be ashaaaaamed. Ashaaaaaam—

  Niya shoved the wax into her ears, cutting off the vile whispers. She stood shaking. A well of shame was cut open hot in her chest.

  Yet even with her hearing blocked, she still made out the cruel words ringing through her soul. They have moved on. Forgotten you. No one values you for your mind. It’s for your body. For your magic. Who are you without these? You are the weakest link in your trio.

  Niya wrapped her arms around herself to hold in another shiver. Her magic had even retreated deep inside her, small and huddled like a lost child in the da
rk.

  Did you cry after I left that night? Do you cry now?

  Niya’s cheeks burned.

  What a horrible place this was.

  She would never make the mistake of listening through it again.

  After another quarter sand fall, the mist slowly dissipated, bringing the ship back into focus. Nets, crates, masts, a stretch of deck.

  Niya saw Therza helping up Bree and Green Pea from where they had sat together, crouched, while others worked out the wax from their ears. A few pirates, Felix being one, remained rocking themselves in corners, soft cries emanating from their bowed heads.

  No one acknowledged these individuals as they walked past, merely leaving them to whatever evil still echoed silently in their hearts.

  Niya searched out Alōs, wondering what horrid reminders the pirate captain needed to hear, but when she looked at his usual spot beside the wheel, Alōs was no longer there.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The sun was greedy in the Valley of Giants, gluttonous to cover everything, and Niya was hard pressed to find an unoccupied bit of shade on deck. Hugging close to a stack of crates along the port side, she shielded her eyes from the bright day as she studied the land that rose up around her. They sailed through a canyon, its sides painted in slashes of crimson, the sun’s relentless heat blistering the towering sandstone rocks, which were what she had learned had earned this place the name of Valley of Giants: the rising rock monoliths.

  It had taken another two days to reach the wide river they now floated down from the Obasi Sea, the water here a muddy green compared to the pure azure-blue sky. And though the air was dry, it smelled sweet, as if the sediment held fragrance. The ship’s sails were down, for no wind was needed to guide them forward. Somehow the current flowed quickly inland, as if this place knew the destination all visitors sought.

  Saffi leaned against the crates beside Niya, cleaning her nails with a splinter of wood, while Therza and Bree rested in the last slice of shadow by their feet.

  The crew was tired, but of course they were. They’d just sailed through a storm, only to face the Mocking Mist. Everyone was in need of a drink.

  “Captain’s making an announcement.” Saffi nudged Niya.

  Alōs strode to the center of the quarterdeck as they gathered around. Kintra took up her usual spot on his right.

  Despite the rising heat, the pirate captain remained in all black. His stance was relaxed but commanding as he waited for his crew to assemble on the deck below. Niya was so used to seeing him at night that she had forgotten how the sun complemented the hue of his brown skin and softened the severity of his features. The breeze filtered through his ebony hair as his sharp gaze took them each in.

  “My brothers and sisters,” Alōs began, his deep voice echoing through the canyon. “I first want to commend you on your brave work entering the west lands. Not many have survived to see this part of the world, but I did not doubt our success. You may be scoundrels and thieves, but you are the most gifted scoundrels and thieves.”

  A few hoots came from the group. Niya crossed her arms over her chest, amused at how easily charmed this lot could be by their captain.

  “We will soon be met with the people of the valley, and I must remind you that this is not a pillaging mission. We come here for rest, to repair what’s been broken in the storm, and to restock items in trade for some of our bounty. We cannot make war here, or enemies. This river”—he gestured to the water around them—“is our only way out.”

  Murmurs filled the air.

  “What?” Niya leaned over to ask Saffi.

  “Death trap,” the master gunner muttered, pointing to the canyon’s edge on either side. Niya could just make out piles of boulders clustered together along the top. “No way we’d make it out if under attack. The valley people have ensured it. Push those and splat.”

  “How long will we stay, Cap’n?” asked Bree beside Niya.

  “And will we be filling more of our coffers soon?” questioned Emanté, who hung by nearby netting. He was a man who either didn’t own a shirt or felt them a useless accessory, for Niya had yet to see him wear one.

  Murmurs of shared curiosity filled the group, and Niya waited for Alōs’s answer with similar eagerness. She had wondered how he would play off their purpose for sailing here.

  “If welcomed by Queen Runisha and King Anup, we will remain here a few days at least,” said Alōs. “This stop is for rest, but it’s also to acquire information on where we might find some more pretty items to add to our last raid in Cax Island. We collected rumors while in Barter Bay of possible bounty to be found farther west. So you know how to work these visits, my beautiful scum. Keep your ears alert; talk with the people. There are always clues of which nearby cities might be too blessed by the lost gods. Plenty of high and mighty that need a bit of rodent infestation to take them down a peg.”

  Chuckles and hollers filled the air.

  Niya rolled her eyes.

  “And who knows,” Alōs went on. “We all might need to make a stop at Stockpiled Treasure the next time we’re in the Thief Kingdom.”

  The crew laughed before Alōs dismissed them to prepare for port.

  “I’ll definitely have to stop there,” Bree said, turning to her and Saffi, “especially after the Cax raid.”

  “Wait . . .” Niya frowned. “You really have an account at Stockpiled Treasure?”

  This was the most exclusive bank in the Thief Kingdom. Only the richest of the rich held their valuables there. Valuables that were usually tainted by illegal trade or acquisitions, of course, but no less worthy.

  “Sure,” said Bree. “We all do. Where do you think we store everything we pillage? This ship is big, but it can’t hold a vault large enough for all we’ve grabbed over the years. We’re pirates of the Crying Queen. Fastest vessel on the Obasi waters. Most feared crew in all of—”

  “Yes, yes.” Niya waved a hand. “I know perfectly well all of this ship’s shiny accomplishments.”

  “Then it must come as no surprise to learn that many of us own land too,” explained Saffi. “Own stores, homes, and support lovers.” She winked. “We need somewhere to hold our investments.”

  “Investments?” Niya lifted her brows. “Who knew pirates could be so financially responsible?”

  “Apparently everyone but you,” said Saffi.

  “Niya,” Kintra called to her from where she stood by the stairs leading below deck. “The captain wishes to see you.”

  “In trouble again already, Red?” asked Saffi with an amused grin.

  “Would it be a good day if I wasn’t?”

  Niya left her master gunner and bunkmate to their laughter and followed Kintra to Alōs’s quarters.

  Her nerves buzzed with each step she got closer to his open door, the darkness of the hall closing in on her as she moved toward the light. Images of the last time she had come here played in her mind: his glistening exposed chest, his taunting grin, and the offering of seaweed oil to help heal her scabbing wounds. It had been an odd moment of generosity from the pirate captain, which she tried to forget as she entered his space.

  Like always the room was swimming with his cool presence, a light-green tinge of his magic possessively covering all.

  Niya’s own gifts swirled ready in her gut as she took in his large form in all black hunched over his desk as he peered into a delicately carved box. A red glow filtered out, painting his features and angular cheekbones.

  “You wished to see me?” asked Niya as Kintra came to stand at her side.

  Alōs’s bright-blue eyes glanced up, roaming the length of her as he closed the lid with a snap. The ruby light cut off as he sat back in his chair. “Yes, I wanted to discuss what will need to be done while we are visiting the people of the valley.”

  Niya waited as Alōs ran a finger along the edge of the box on his desk.

  “As you know, we learned from Cebba that someone representing the royal family bought the other part of the Pris
m Stone from her to be made into a gift for the young princess Callista. What we don’t know, however, is what sort of gift. Could it have been for a necklace? A bracelet? A scepter?”

  “A ring,” suggested Niya with a knowing glance.

  “Yes, even a ring,” said Alōs, eyes narrowed. “Though that would be quite a heavy accessory, given the last part of the stone is quite large.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Niya.

  “Who do you think split the gem up to begin with?” countered Alōs. “Yet despite these unknown details, it’s good to assume that however the Prism Stone is kept, it will be in the princess’s vault of valuables.”

  “Assuming she has one.”

  “All royalty have personal vaults,” said Kintra at her side as she folded her arms. The raised burns on her exposed biceps bulged.

  “Friends with many royals, are we?” asked Niya with a dry glance to the quartermaster.

  “I’m a pirate and a thief. And a good one. I’m friends with any place expensive items are stored.”

  “Yes, and for us to get to this room,” continued Alōs, returning Niya’s attention to where he sat like his own royal behind his desk, the large river they sailed in a backdrop through his windows, “we’ll need to get into the palace. Which won’t be hard, given that when any visitors such as us visit a place such as this, the rulers always demand an audience to make sure no threat to their people is present. We will be gifting the royal family with a hearty peace offering in exchange for our stay. Out of custom they will ask us to dine with them.”