Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  A deadly combination for a group that lacked strong morals.

  The only thought that kept her sane was the promise of what was waiting for them at the end of their journey. The Thief Kingdom. Though this did nothing to stop her impatience to get there, her magic a continuous churn of mirrored eagerness in her veins.

  Home, it crooned. Mischief, it begged.

  My sisters, Niya added.

  While she’d been unable to find Achak before they’d officially set off from the Valley of Giants, she only hoped the twins would be able to get word to her family of where the Crying Queen was sailing next.

  Niya’s chest swelled with longing and uncontained excitement at the prospect of Larkyra and Arabessa being there when she arrived.

  As land rose on the distant horizon, it appeared Niya was not the only desperate soul craving the kingdom or solid ground, for a dozen pirates rushed starboard, gripping the railing to take in the view.

  There were a few ways of entering the Thief Kingdom, but Niya had never sailed in through one of the marina ports.

  A small strip of beach sat in the middle of the sea. Not even a single palm tree marred its horizon. The only feature that rose up in glaring strangeness was a freestanding waterfall cutting through the middle. It rained down from some invisible source in the sky.

  Niya looked up as the ship slipped through, the loud roar of water parting like a drape, none on board getting wet. And then the Crying Queen entered from wide-open sea into the dark cave of the Thief Kingdom.

  Niya’s energy sang as she took in the spectacular hidden world. Cool mist rose from the waters, slowly revealing the twinkling lights of the dark city’s edge. Colorful puffs of smoke from chimneys curled around the massive stalactites and stalagmites, and hanging glowworms covered the cave’s ceiling, the stars of this world.

  In the distance the imposing onyx castle loomed like a guardian in the center of the cave. Its pointed turrets gleamed like liquid ink in the night as spits of fire escaped their tips, beacons for the wicked to come play.

  Niya breathed in deep, savoring the damp but sweet air, a cacophony of familiarity.

  If she were one who easily cried, she would be now.

  She was home.

  Home.

  Despite what still lay ahead, Niya felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. Somewhere within this city might be her sisters, and within the castle, seated above a river of lava, was her father. Her magic tingled along her skin, desperate to be reunited.

  “Oy, Red,” called Saffi. “Mind helping the rest of us?”

  Niya jolted from her thoughts, turning from the view to join the crew as they rushed about, readying the ship for port. After settling into a tight spot among other vessels, they dropped anchor and lowered the sails before making their way below deck to put on their disguises.

  Stopping by her bunk, Niya fished out a leather mask that Kintra had given her. It was worn, stained in odd places, and nothing like the disguises she was used to wearing here. But it would do.

  “Coming?” asked Bree as she waited by the stairs. Her small bunkmate had on a red, feathered mask that was a bit too big for her face.

  “Yes.” Niya slipped on her disguise. Though it was not hers, it still settled along her skin like a familiar hug. She was back in the kingdom where anyone could be anything. With a wide grin, she ascended topside, standing back as her crew members passed by, hauling heavy sacks on their shoulders, their collected bounty from past raids they’d be depositing at Stockpiled Treasure.

  Despite the grueling journey, the mood of the pirates had instantly lifted when they’d entered the Thief Kingdom, and Niya understood why. There was much promise before them for the next few nights: spirits, gambling, reunions with lovers. Their responsibilities to this ship could be forgotten as they lost themselves in the promised debauchery of this caved world.

  If only Niya could have been as lucky as they. Yes, she was back, but a part of her knew she would be tied to Alōs, committed to the duty of her binding bet. Still, her mood remained high, for she only hoped she could entertain a few grain falls away from him and with her sisters.

  Finding Alōs and Kintra by the gangplank, where they exchanged quick words with various pirates as they left the ship, Niya went to their side. Per usual, Alōs wore no mask. His dark, devastating beauty on full display. Niya now understood the only place he truly feared being seen was in Esrom. That was where he hid, keeping to shadowed outlets or empty passageways. In the rest of Aadilor, Alōs stood confidently in the open, wanting to be known as the infamous pirate lord. The more cities and realms that knew him as his current role—thief, scoundrel, murderer—the better. It was easier to hide trails to a past when so many led away.

  “I assume we are going straight there?” Niya asked Alōs as the last of the pirates descended to the docks below.

  “You assume correctly,” he said as he set off down the gangplank himself, her following on his heels. “Kintra will meet us once the rest of the ship is secured.”

  “Could we grab a bite first?” asked Niya. “The lines at the fountains are always horrid, and I can guarantee I am much more cooperative when I’m not starved.”

  “You must be starved often, then,” he said before turning to have a quick word with the port master, who stood at the edge of their dock.

  Niya huffed her impatience as she went to wait on the boardwalk for him to finish.

  Leaning against a lamppost, she watched the stream of citizens strolling by. The docks were filled with the sweet fragrance of honey pies and coffee from a nearby vender. Niya’s stomach grumbled loudly.

  “This is maddening,” she mumbled, marching away and straight up to the nearest masked merchant. “I’ll take three pies, and don’t even bother wrapping one of them up.”

  She paid with what little silver she had acquired as part of the Crying Queen’s crew and hardly took a breath as she devoured the crumbly delight. “By the lost gods,” she moaned, savory flavors exploding across her taste buds. Niya was about to open her bag for the next pie when the tingle of familiar energies played over her skin.

  Swiveling around, Niya searched the crowd, her heart picking up speed.

  The world seemed to stop as she saw them. Two figures walked toward her. One wore an immaculate purple three-piece pantsuit with a black cloak and top hat, while the other was wrapped in a pale-green dress that flared dramatically at the waist, a matching veil covering her hair. Each had on a marble black eye mask, and together, arm in arm, they appeared like a genteel couple out for a stroll.

  Despite their disguises, Niya would know them anywhere, for their energy was her own.

  Niya ran toward them, her food forgotten on the street as the three collided with squeals of delight. Well, Arabessa didn’t quite squeal as much as Larkyra and Niya.

  “Achak got word to you?” Niya hugged them close, inhaling each of their scents. Lavender and rose.

  Home.

  She was home.

  They were her home.

  “Achak did,” said Larkyra, pulling back to look at Niya. Her blue eyes shimmered behind her mask. “And we’ve been strolling the docks every day since, waiting for the Crying Queen to come to port. Oh, sister, look how much of a pirate you’ve become! You’re practically freckled all over.”

  Niya’s heart was overflowing, almost painfully, at finally being reunited with her sisters. She hardly knew what to say, do. “New shoes?” she deflected, glancing down at Larkyra’s silver-heeled boots.

  “A gift from the duke.” Larkyra pointed her toe out. “Do you like?”

  “He spoils you.”

  “As he should.”

  “I miss new shoes.” Niya sighed. “And being spoiled.”

  “I’m glad your vanity has survived your sentencing,” said Arabessa.

  Niya shot her eldest sister a grin. “All my glowing personal attributes are still much alive. It’s my physical ones that I’m afraid have been threatened.”

  “Y
es.” Larkyra flapped her hand under her masked nose. “You smell rather . . . fragrant now.”

  “And my hair is a rat’s nest.”

  “Well, it has always been in the mornings.”

  “And my hands are dry and scabbed.”

  “At least they now match your feet.”

  Niya swatted Larkyra on the arm, but despite the insults, Niya laughed. The sensation was freeing as it burst from her lungs. It had been far too long since she’d laughed like this.

  “I think the real difference is in your energy,” Arabessa mused, her blue eyes assessing beneath her mask. “You now seem . . .”

  “Tired?” Niya suggested.

  “More mature,” finished Arabessa. “You’ve seen much in these few months.”

  Niya waved away the seriousness in her sister’s voice. She did not want to go there. Not yet. “Few months? It has been at least three hundred years since I’ve last seen you,” she corrected. “I mean, look”—Niya pointed toward Arabessa’s coiled black locks—“is that gray starting to sprout at your temples?”

  “Nice try,” said Arabessa haughtily, smoothing back her perfectly tucked-up raven locks. “Whatever has happened,” she continued, “I’m glad your travels have led you here, my love. We were sure it would be a full year until we saw you again.”

  “With the way things are going, it might have been two,” she found herself admitting.

  “Two?” Larkyra’s gaze widened behind her disguise. “You must tell us everything. Achak was rather vague in their information.”

  “Lord Ezra,” Arabessa announced, the group turning to find the pirate approaching.

  “Ladies.” Alōs inclined his head. “It is good to see you both looking so well.”

  “And it is good to find our sister still in one piece.”

  “With her aboard, I fear it is my crew you should have been more worried for.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Arabessa, assessing the pirate. “I can hardly believe your boat does not display a single singe mark.”

  “It seems your sister chose to leave her mark by relieving me of a few of my crew instead.”

  “Truly?” Arabessa glanced to Niya. “I guess she always has fancied herself as valuable as three or four men combined. She probably did not see them as a loss to lose.”

  “Yes,” said Alōs with a grin. “On that we can agree. She does think rather highly of herself, doesn’t she?”

  “I thought we were in a hurry.” Niya glared between her eldest sister and the pirate. “Or would you like to stand around all day sharing more of my faults?”

  “If that is an actual option . . . ?” asked Larkyra with a smile.

  The sound of Alōs’s husky laugh did nothing to improve Niya’s suddenly declining mood. It was one thing for each party to poke at her from their separate corners; it was another entirely to find the odd pairing commiserating together.

  “I leave you three to it, then.” Niya turned, heading up the cobble road to town.

  Alōs was by her side in two long strides. “I thought you were more cooperative when you had food. Or do you still need to eat the other pies you bought? Though I fear they aren’t as good now on the ground.”

  She chanced a glance, catching his amused grin.

  It only made her frown more.

  “And I thought we were to go to the fountains immediately.”

  “We will accompany you there as well,” said Arabessa as she and Larkyra caught up to them. “And you will not argue, Lord Ezra.” She raised her hand, stopping his interjection. “It is the least you can do after taking away our dear sister.”

  “As much as I wish to argue against your point,” he began, “it has been a very long voyage, and I don’t desire this day to be wrought with any more difficulties.”

  “Wise man.” Arabessa nodded. “Now let us hurry. It is midday, which means there is bound to be a line forming.”

  The Fountains of Forgotten Memories were at the center of the Gazing District, where an array of beautiful temples lined the streets. The fountains were the most ornate, however, in an exposed marble pavilion with dozens of columns holding up a stained glass dome. The scenes above were said to have been childhood memories of the architect. It was a mixture of serene blue skies with blooming flowers and dark stretching forms looming over the fields as if soon to cover them completely in shadows. A multitude of glowing pools lined the rotunda, where indeed queues, four to be exact, curled around the space. Keepers stood at the helm of each pool, attending customers one by one.

  It took a full sand fall for them to finally reach a Keeper of the Cup. Theirs was a round figure whose identity was hidden beneath drapes of white robes, their hands wrapped in gauze. They sat on a cushioned pillow before their small glowing basin of water. Alōs stepped forward and placed two silver coins into the jar by their feet, which was already brimming with past payments.

  “Who will be drinking?” asked a raspy voice.

  “I will,” answered Alōs.

  “You have skin, bone, nail, or hair?”

  “Hair.” Niya pulled forth Queen Murilia’s small gray braid, handing it to Alōs.

  The Keeper dipped a ladle into the glowing blue water, sending ripples across the surface, and poured the liquid into a large goblet resting on a side table. They took the braid from Alōs, lit it on fire, and dumped the ash in the drink, swirling as they did. “Drink.” They extended the chalice to Alōs. “All of it,” they urged as he pulled away, choking on the flavor.

  Niya had visited the fountains once before, when she and her sisters had been gifted a lock of their mother’s hair by their father for one of their birthdays.

  The experience of living through some of their mother’s memories had been amazing, but the drink had been disgusting.

  “Sit there,” the Keeper instructed, pointing to a carved stone bench where others were slumped, eyes closed behind their disguises. Some twitched and moaned. All still in the trance of memories.

  Alōs complied, settling into the small space as Niya and her sisters crowded around him.

  She wondered if Alōs knew what he was in for. How memories could be an extremely overwhelming experience.

  Niya drew her brows together, that wiggle of discomfort again that any part of her was beginning to care for any part of him. Her main concern was meant to be about this working; otherwise she was out of options. Her next year aboard his ship as good as solidified.

  “Is something supposed to happen?” asked Alōs after a moment.

  The Keeper didn’t answer, merely watched from his perch as Alōs suddenly gasped, his eyes rolling back to white. He collapsed against the bench.

  “You may wait over there,” the Keeper told Niya and her sisters. “Depending on what he seeks, it may take some time.”

  The girls stepped to the side, where others waited for their companions to wake from walking through forgotten memories.

  “So tell us,” said Larkyra, drawing close to Niya. “Why are we here? What is it Alōs searches another’s memories for?”

  Niya glanced to the unconscious pirate across the way. He was so vulnerable like this, she realized. Tranced, unable to wake until the thoughts he swam through released him.

  Something akin to guilt tugged at her chest at the idea of speaking his secrets to her sisters when he was in this state.

  Of course, she had no bind not to tell them of the Prism Stone, but . . .

  “He searches for an item that was lost,” explained Niya vaguely.

  Larkyra huffed a laugh. “Well, of course, isn’t that why all go searching forgotten memories, to look at things lost?”

  “What I mean is”—Niya turned back to regard her sisters—“he is trying to find a particular gem that has gone missing.”

  “A pirate searching for treasure?” asked Arabessa. “How boring.”

  Niya smiled at the sentiment, for she had said something similar herself when first learning of the Prism Stone.

  “Yes, boring,”
Niya echoed.

  Her eldest sister eyed her from beneath her mask. “I have a sense that is not the entire truth,” she accused.

  Niya shifted on her feet, her resolve slipping. I have no loyalty to Alōs, she reminded herself, merely a momentary truce. And she was kidding herself that she could ever keep such a secret from her family. Not after she had hidden what Alōs had known of them for so long. That omission was what had gotten her into this whole mess to begin with. And though she hated to ask for help, this time Niya decided she would try leaning on others for a change.

  “I can’t get into the details here,” she began in a whisper, forcing her sisters to angle closer. “But it’s a gem that is very important, very powerful,” she added. “It belongs to Esrom and has been lost for some time. And if not found soon, the magic holding the kingdom deep underwater will relinquish, and their world will surface.”

  Larkyra and Arabessa were quiet for some time, seeming to take in her words. “What do you mean . . . surface?” asked Arabessa. “As in . . .”

  “Esrom will be at the mercy of Aadilor after centuries of hiding away as a sanctuary.”

  Both girls drew back.

  “By the stars and sea,” breathed Larkyra.

  “But why is Alōs seeking it?” asked Arabessa. “To hold it ransom from his old kingdom for payment?”

  In an unwanted shock, the accusation against the pirate stung Niya.

  While she did not know the exact details regarding Alōs’s first reasons in stealing the stone from his kingdom, she knew it was connected to Ariōn, knew it had helped the young king at the time, helped Alōs’s parents. He had stolen it for them and now was searching to return it for them as well. Of course, her sisters wouldn’t have known any of this, only saw him for the nefarious pirate lord Alōs wanted all to see him as. The heartless man Niya was still trying to believe him to be.

  But despite her past convictions, something in Niya was changing, forcing her to open her eyes to the true motives behind all of Alōs’s sins. Her animosity toward the man was dimming, and she wanted her sisters to understand what she was growing to realize herself.