Pieces of Jade

by Lani Woodland

  From the throng of battle a voice called my name, “Sheridan. Get back.” Lafe stumbled toward me, emerging from the press of fighting bodies. He held a bloody hand against his stomach, the other loosely gripping a sword. I reached for him as he sagged forward and secured one arm around his torso. His wound was bleeding heavily and his breathing was labored. He needed a doctor. Even while bleeding, he’d cared enough to warn me away. He’d been thoughtful and funny and somehow I’d grown to consider him a friend. In that moment I realized it mattered to me whether he lived or died. His head lulled forward as I guided him toward sick bay.

  I groped my way down the dark hallways towards the sick bay, struggling to support the man’s weight. My heart thudded in my chest and I clung to the walls for support.

  I was soaked in sweat by the time I found the Doctor. Without knocking I flung the door open and stopped in mid-step as a sword pressed to my throat.

  “Don’t move,” a sailor warned. He pulled me into the light and got a good look at our faces. His eyes flickered between Lafe and me before he dropped his weapon.

  “Lafe is wounded. The captain asked me to help.”

  He put his arm around Lafe, taking his weight from me. The doctor was already tending some wounded.

  The guard lay Lafe down on the doctor’s cleared desk and held his hand over the cut in Lafe’s side. My attention turned to the patient on the surgical table who groaned in agony, and I cringed at the hole in his side. Other injured men were strewn around the cramped room. The air smelled of blood, gunpowder and charred flesh. My stomach heaved at the pungent stench and the wretched state of the men in front of me.

  I had the presence of mind to empty my belly into a bucket rather than on the floor, but the sour smell only contributed to the noxious odor in the room. Feeling weak and in danger of fainting, I sagged against the wall, and wiped the vomit from my mouth, pinching my eyes closed.

  “Can I help?” I finally managed, careful not to look at the desperate patient.

  “Not if you’ve got a weak stomach.”

  “I wasn’t prepared but I . . . I can help,” I stammered. “I can mix poultices or make salves.”

  “Are you handy with a needle?”

  I swallowed hard, the gritty taste of vomit clinging to my spit. “Yes.”

  He nodded and handed me a needle and some thread. “Good, then start with this one.” He paused for a moment to consider and then continued. “Clean it thoroughly before stitching him up.” The whole ship shuddered again. “The cannons are being used. If it doesn’t burn them or kill them on impact, then it embeds them with debris. So clean it well, and be sure you pour alcohol on it to stop infection.” He gestured to a few bottles of spirits on the table next to me and moved to help Lafe.

  I had seen knife wounds before, but I wasn’t prepared for the open, bloody mess of cannon shrapnel. I cleaned the wound as best I could while the man writhed in pain. The man who had guarded the door now acted as my assistant, holding the man still while I worked. My hands shook as I threaded the needle and stuck it into his flesh. The poor soul was already in so much pain that he didn’t feel the impact, and I focused hard to imagine it was just a sampler I was sewing. The two sides of skin began to close as I threaded them together, pausing occasionally to rinse the pooling blood with the alcohol.

  The man looked up at me with wide eyes, his face pale from the loss of blood. My tongue was heavy in my mouth but I felt the need to offer words of comfort.

  “This will fix you right up,” I promised. “My needle work is often sought after.”

  “Is Nate here?” he asked hoarsely.

  “Nate?”

  “Aye. One of those Manacle naval brats was moving in with the death blow when Nate stabbed him from behind.”

  My hand faltered for a second. “We’re fighting the Orean Navy?”

  He nodded. “Promise me that if I don’t pull through this, you’ll thank Nate for me.”

  “Of course,” I murmured as I worked through this information. Was the navy after me? How had they found me? Had Dorian somehow contacted one of the other Hounds and let him know where we were?

  “Why did they attack?” I asked my assistant, trying to sound casual, but hearing the tightness in my own voice.

  “It’s that blasted medallion. I told the captain to let well enough alone, but he pressed forward with his foolish idea.”

  My mind was reeling at the effort the kingdom was expending to get the medallion back. Not only had they sent Hounds after me, but the navy too. The medallion’s heavy weight against my breast became noticeable, warm now from nestling against my heart.

  I broke off the thread and tied a knot, then poured a last bit of spirits over the wound. Mercifully, the man had lost consciousness. I wrapped him with bandages the best that I could and moved onto the next man.

  I lost track of time and the number of men I helped when the doctor’s voice brought me from my haze.

  “We need clean water,” the doctor informed me when the buckets began to run low, “and more lavender to stop the bleeding. They’ll be in the galley.”

  Fresh blood coated my hands while dried blood caked my sturdy boots. I wiped my hands on a rag and stretched my aching back. I nodded to let the doctor know I had heard him and left the room.

  This was it. The moment for my escape. A pang of guilt pulsed through me at abandoning the wounded, but I knew I had already done all I could for them. I had to act now.

  My heavy heart lightened as I thought about the navy. I knew the officers there; they were honorable men and loyal to the crown. I could turn myself in with my task complete, and Pearl would be set free. A large weight lifted from my mind. It was almost over.

  I wanted to run straight to the naval ship and throw myself on their mercy but knew I couldn’t leave Dorian behind. I cast one wistful glance toward the other ship before pivoting and forcing myself to the brig. I sighed in relief to see the holding cells unguarded. The man had probably been called to lend a hand during the attack.

  Dorian lay on his back staring up at the ceiling. “Who is attacking the ship?”

  “The navy.” I grinned up at him as he sat up. “I have the medallion, it’s time to go. Our escape vessel is even here.”

  Dorian’s eyes glittered. “Perfect.”

  I slid the dagger through the bars to him, feeling a little smug. I expected Dorian to work the lock free, but instead he paused and considered me.

  “You’ll most likely be tempted to announce yourself as the Emmía as soon as we get on the naval ship. I heavily advise against it.”

  I opened my mouth to protest but he silenced me by the raise of his hand. “You need to understand, the navy is sailing under their own orders, and those orders are different than the ones given to me. I know it’s tempting to throw yourself into their care, but you can’t do that. You need let me do the talking, or you could end up getting yourself killed and not helping your sister. Remember, they can’t see through your disguise as I can.”

  The truth of his words sunk in and I nodded. The navy wouldn’t recognize me, and mistake me for a pirate if I landed on their deck in my disguise. They could very well kill me before I could utter a word.

  Dorian marked my look of resignation before angling the point of the dagger into the lock. He wiggled it for a moment until the door popped open. The hinges squeaked, but it was lost in the sounds of the battle.

  “Are we going to be able to get off the ship?” I asked as he rose to his feet. “I tried before—”

  “Most captains word that spell so that it dissolves during battle. That way the men can board the enemy vessel. There is no better time for us to escape than now.” He stepped out of the cell, taking my hand in his. “Let’s go.”

  Dorian led the way, holding the dagger ready to attack and we made our way down the halls. I could hear the fight raging as I stumbled down the darkened corridors. The moonlight glinted onto the floor from the deck above, and I fixed my eyes determinedly
on the wooden staircase.

  I jumped in surprise when a loud thud resounded from the wall next to me. Something had impacted the other side. Hard. It had come from inside the captain’s room. Through the wall I heard the sounds of clashing swords, metal clanging against metal. From the open door in front of us, a clock rolled into the hallway and it clattered to a stop against the wall. We were still a few feet from the opening, but the voices could be heard plainly.

  “Where is it?” a harsh voice demanded.

  “I'll die before I tell you,” I heard the captain respond.

  “And so you shall,” the voice agreed with pleasure.

  The shriek of metal scraping metal traveled to my ears as the men fought. I had no doubt that the captain meant what had he said. He really would die to protect the medallion. Fury unfurled through me at the stupidity of so many wasted lives. Surely no treasure could be worth such loss.

  We stopped near the open door, our backs pressed to the wall to remain out of sight. From the captain's chamber I heard the sound of a sword plunging into its human target and my stomach rolled. Had someone done what I had once wished and been unable to do? Had someone stabbed the captain? Was he bleeding at this moment? I expected to feel joy at this thought but instead it made me angry. I felt an overwhelming urge to check on him. I took a step toward the door, and then another, almost like my feet had a will of their own.

  “What are you doing?” Dorian hissed, grabbing my arm.

  I shook him off and glanced into the room where the captain stood over one fallen opponent, facing another with a sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. Blood trickled down his left temple and a wound on his arm stained his shirt.

  The naval man swiped hard with his sword towards the captain, ducking in turn as the captain returned the move. With each swing of the sword the navy man was backing the captain into a corner. With a look of shock, the captain tripped over the fallen soldier and tumbled to the ground, hitting it with a dull thud. The soldier advanced on the captain with a swagger in his step and pressed his sword against the vulnerable flesh at the captain’s neck.

  “We’ve got to move!” Dorian ordered, pressing forward. My brain told me to follow him but my feet remained still and my eyes remained riveted to the captain. Blood gushed from the wound on his arm as he deflected the sword and continued to defend himself. His parries slowed as he struggled to disarm the naval soldier.

  A strange sensation bubbled through me as I stared at the sight of the captain so close to death, and as I looked down at my arms I saw they were faintly glowing. In an instant I realized what was happening and my stomach sank in despair.

  “No,” I pleaded, but it was useless to protest. Despite how I felt towards the captain, the blood bond was compelling me to protect him.

  The glow around me intensified, and I felt as though I was being pulled in half, one part telling me to follow Dorian, the other part commanding me to aid the captain. I struggled against it with all my might, determined to break free and leave the captain to his fate.

  I tried to force myself towards the stairs and a small moan escaped my lips as my body refused to obey. The desire to protect the captain was overpowering now. It felt as though a hand was pushing me into the room, and I sobbed as I involuntarily took a step forward.

  Another complication of the blood bond. I had known that it would tie me to the crew, but to experience the overwhelming urge to protect the man lying helpless on the floor was something I hadn't expected. My glowing hand grasped the dagger tucked into my belt and I continued to move forward and creep up on the soldier, feeling like a puppet in a twisted play.

  The soldier was so focused on the captain he didn't notice my approach. The soldier leaned over the captain and with a one blow knocked away the captain’s sword. The soldier let out a shout of triumph and re-gripped his sword in the unmistakable stance of a man about to deliver death.

  My mind fogged and I stumbled forward. As if in a dream, I lunged at the soldier, still unnoticed, and shoved my dagger between his ribs. As soon as the dagger struck its target the glow around me vanished. My mind instantly cleared, allowing me to witness every detail of the cruelty my hand had just inflicted.

  The soldier let out a gasp of surprise and looked over his shoulder where a crimson spot was already forming on his jacket. He grunted as he reached around and pulled the weapon free. A fresh pool of blood gushed onto his uniform, mixing with the cobalt threads and staining them purple.

  The dagger had punctured his lungs. I could hear him rattling as he struggled futilely to take in air. The soldier turned and faced me, his mouth held in an O of surprise, while his hand grappled behind him, trying to stop the blood gushing down his back. I backed away slowly as a liquid gurgling sound came from his throat.

  What have I done? I asked as I continued to back away, my eyes locked onto his with horror. I knew him. His name was Jeremy Graywater, and he had helped in my secret lessons in defense back at the palace. He had always been kind, respectful and loyal as he taught me, and now I had turned those moves against him and he’d die by my own hand.

  The captain leaped to his feet and advanced on Jeremy who spun toward him in a desperate lunge to preserve his fading life. The captain's face was full of concentration as he held up his sword and, with a grunt, lanced Jeremy through the heart.

  “NOOOOO,” I screamed. My vision tunneled and my blood ran cold. Visions of August’s death rolled past my eyes, his face replacing Jeremy’s then switching back. I blinked my eyes but the faces refused to fade.

  Jeremy hung in the air for a moment before the captain released his sword with a hard pull. Jeremy’s body, unable to support itself, fell lifelessly to the floor.

  I turned in disgust. The air was silent for a moment, and then the captain's footsteps echoed as he advanced towards me. From the corner of my eye I saw him lean down and pick up my fallen dagger, which he wiped on his trousers before holding it out with an unsteady hand.

  I shook my head as a sob made my chest concave in grief. I covered my mouth with my hand only to find it smelled of blood, and I dry heaved. It didn’t matter that the final blow had come from another, I had as good as killed him myself. The blood on my hand seemed a symbol of an internal stain, one I would never be able to get rid of. It joined the taint of August’s blood. The kingdom would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself.

  I was a murderer. This hadn’t been an accident. I’d struck Jeremy intending to kill him. Even if the bond had caused my action, it had been my hand that did the deed. I had killed another innocent man, a friend no less, to save the life of the man whom I hated, the man who had ruined everything for me. I didn’t even have the comfort of knowing I would do it differently if given the chance, because I couldn’t. If placed in the same situation five minutes later I would deliver the same blow. The blood oath was too strong to break with willpower alone. If only its magic could erase the lingering guilt that accompanied it. I rubbed the blood from my hands onto my already bloodied clothes, trying to clean it off but knowing the stain would always be there.

  The captain watched silently as I stood there, staring at Jeremy and drawing ragged breaths. With a huff he grabbed my wrist and shoved the dagger forcefully into it.

  “What are you doing?” I cried, opening my palm and letting the dagger clatter to the floor.

  The captain’s hands were still on my wrist and I noticed a cut gushing blood on the top of his hand. The healer in me, trained to ease suffering, pulled a handkerchief I had embroidered while in Rizo from my pocket and wrapped the captain’s bloodied hand. The captain bore my ministrations with impatience, and as soon as I finished he shoved past me toward the fray of the battle, stepping over Jeremy’s body.

  “Wait!” I cried. “Don’t leave me alone with him.”

  The captain appeared startled, and I knew my expression matched his. I had just asked the man I hated not to leave me. Was I really that far gone, or was I simply that shaken? I didn’t wa
nt him, I just didn’t want to be alone. Not with the body of a man I’d helped kill.

  His bloodied hand rested on my shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze. “My men are still fighting,” he said simply before marching straight out the door.

  I couldn’t stay in that room with Jeremy’s sightless, frozen gaze staring at the ceiling. It was no less accusing than August’s had been.

  “Wait!” I called again, but he was already gone.

  Like a ghost I drifted after the captain, down through the corridor and up the steps that led to the deck. Once there I stopped in my tracks, frozen by the scene of gore spread out in front of me.

  There were huge holes in the ship, where the cannonballs had impacted. Men, bloodied and dying, were lying on the deck, too wounded to crawl below for help. Pained screams and the clang of swords echoed through the air, as flashes of gunfire illuminated the darkness.

  I moved quickly towards the bow of the ship where traces of morning could be seen on the horizon. A thick haze clouded my mind, blocking out the horrible things I had seen and done. Trying to rise above the cruelty happening on the ship, or maybe just trying to distance myself from it, my less than agile body scaled the railing at the prow. I teetered back and forth with the roll of the waves, not caring that I was completely exposed.

  All this blood, all this death, all this destruction. For a treasure. It had to end. No matter who ended up with the medallion, that blood could never be unspilt, the lives could never be reclaimed. The medallion would never be able to fix this. Somehow, I had to get rid of it. It was a cursed piece of jewelry and it needed to be destroyed. I felt it cradling like a viper in my bosom. If I threw it overboard and buried it in the sea, unreachable forever, the madness would stop.

  Before I could make a firm decision a cannon blast cut through the air and hit the ship with a jolt. My arms wind-milled as I struggled to catch my balance, but it was in vain, and I screamed as I was pitched face-first toward the sea.

  I thought I would die that way, but before a second had passed, a large wave surged from the ocean and hoisted me back over the railing. I sputtered as I landed on the deck, the wave breaking around me and sloshing against the sides. Salt water flooded my mouth and I coughed on its brine as I slid and slammed into two fighters, knocking them off their feet. I struggled to stand as my body shivered in my icy clothes.