by Ashley Nixon
Larkin stared at where he was pointing. For a moment, she didn’t see anything.
“It’s a sail,” he added, and as if her vision reacted to the word, she could suddenly make out the sail of a ship. It was strangely connected to a hull that was composed of six points in the sky.
“It’s a bit of a stretch, but I see it,” commented Larkin.
Barren chuckled. “Well, if you can see it, you should be able to see the bow sticking out from the right?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“It’s pointing south,” said Barren. “So from Silver Crest, you could reach Arcarum if you could find Navis in the sky.”
“Do you use constellations often?”
“No,” said Barren. “I don’t really need to, but it’s nice to know if you are a beginner. Sometimes the Orient likes to teach you a thing or two. Before I was an experienced sailor, she sent me far into the Octent, south of the Orient. I’d never been there before, never had a map, only what my father taught me about the stars. I used Circinus to find my way home. Depending on how you look at it, it points east or west—meaning you can also find north and south if you spot it.”
“Circinus?”
“The drafting compass,” said Barren.
Larkin returned her gaze to the sky. Barren laughed a little. “You probably think this is silly,” she heard Barren say. “But my father always told me that stars ensure all that is lost is found.”
“No, your father taught you survival,” she replied. “My father didn’t even teach me how to swim.”
“Your father did not raise you to be a pirate, either,” Barren pointed out.
“Do you think your father raised you to be the man you are today?”
For a moment, Barren thought that was an easy question, and he almost said yes, but he hesitated, and thought of all the ways he would be different had his father not died. Everything he was today—the murderer, the angry hunter, was a result of what his brother William had made him, not his father.
“Not the man I am at this moment,” he said. “The man my father created is buried deep—but if he were ever to surface, he would be wise, understanding, and happy.”
“Why can’t you be that man?”
“Who is there to bring those traits out in me?” asked Barren. “My father is dead.”
“You do not believe your crew can do the same?”
“They make me better,” he agreed. “But they have not changed me.”
There were times when Barren did want to change. Times when he wanted to be more like his father. Jess had been a man who fought for Saoirse. He fought for everything it meant to be a pirate and sail the seas. While Barren felt it was important to avenge his death, he sometimes wondered if his father was disappointed in the path he took.
The commotion started suddenly—one moment, Larkin was sleeping deeply, and the next she was jolted awake by Barren, who had stood suddenly from their place on the porch swing. Several pirates who had fallen asleep at the table and chairs taken from the Bloodshed were also on their feet. A bell was ringing steadily from somewhere on the island.
Larkin rose to her feet immediately, her heart pounding. Whatever was happening, she knew it wasn’t good. “What’s going on?”
“Someone’s threatening our shores,” said Barren. He turned to head inside, but was met by Leaf, who threw open the door to the McCloud house. The Elf handed Barren his sword. Leaf’s quiver was already on his back, and his bow in hand.
“Privateers,” he said.
Behind him, the remainder of Barren and Cove’s crew filled the door. Barren took his sword. It seemed the bell had grown louder and the ring more consistent.
“Stay here,” Barren warned Larkin.
“Do not tell me what to do!”
“You’ll want to listen to him this time,” said Cove.
“Why?”
“Because they’re here for you,” Barren said.
Larkin’s eyes widened.
She watched as the pirates hurried from the McCloud house. Before Barren ran too far, he turned, and it was as if the look he gave Larkin was supposed to weld her to the spot. Instead, she set her teeth and threw off her blanket. She took off running for the shore. The bell hadn’t ceased, and a crowd of pirates hurried from their homes, weapons drawn. They ran for the beach.
Amid the ringing and the shouts from the pirates, several explosions sounded, rocking the entire island. As Larkin came to the edge of the shore, she saw the damage. The beautiful, magnificent ships that had once crowded the coastline of Silver Crest, were now reduced to ash and fire. Smoke rose and filled the air, and it was suddenly the perfect backdrop for battle.
Though it was chaotic, and their precious ships destroyed, the pirates stood in ranks by weapon, ready to attack an enemy Larkin had never beheld before. Her eyes shifted to the dark dots that spotted the water. The privateers were grizzly, with tangled hair, unwashed skin, and lustful gazes. They were what she’d imagined Barren to be before she had met him. Behind them, sitting on the Orient’s waters, were two massive galleons, which had brought these men to Silver Crest’s shores.
Why were these men here? Barren had said they wanted her, but how could he be sure? If the privateers had found Silver Crest, surely they were here to battle with the pirates. Perhaps this was her father’s way of rescuing her. But why would he send these men? Why would he not come himself?
“You do not listen,” Barren’s voice came from behind her. She whirled around and faced him.
“What if my father sent these men for me?” Larkin asked. “You could prevent bloodshed if you handed me over.”
“Your father might have sent privateers for you,” said Barren. “But that will not prevent bloodshed. Besides, do you think these men intend to return you to Maris? Didn’t you hear what Tetherion said?”
Larkin narrowed her eyes. “Do you want proof?” Barren asked with a raised brow. She hesitated, glancing at the privateers, and Barren seemed to take that as a yes. “Let’s go ask them, then.”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along with him. He walked fast, so it was hard for Larkin to keep up at first. They were walking toward a man who looked ten times bigger than Barren. Larkin could only assume he was the captain of the privateers who now littered the sandy shore. He had frizzy hair and a black beard. His body was weighed down by excess clothing and holsters which supported various weapons. Larkin wondered if he really could use all of those in a fight.
“Well! It is Barren Reed!” he exclaimed, and laughed deeply. He clearly thought he already had this victory in hand. “And Larkin Lee, too! Come to hand her over, have you?”
“Not exactly,” Barren replied, glancing at her. “Just to be clear—you have invaded my shores for the purpose of reclaiming Lady Larkin, correct?”
“What’s with the diplomacy?” The man was still amused. “Tryin’ to impress the lady?”
“More like…proving a point,” Barren clarified. “Who instructed you to come here?”
“We’ve orders to reclaim her for her father—wants her taken some place safe.”
“That doesn’t sound too promising,” said Barren. “Let me guess—some place safe doesn’t mean her home in Maris, does it?”
The privateer laughed and looked at his mates on either side of him.
“Doin’ that would ruin some very important plans, don’t ya think, boys? I think we’ll take her for a little cruise across the Orient. There’s places she’s not yet seen, things she’s not experienced.”
Larkin cringed hearing that. She didn’t think her father would approve of their language, and suddenly felt she’d be better off with the pirates than these privateers.
Barren raised a brow and looked at Larkin. “You might want to take this.” He handed her a knife from his belt, and then charged the burly privateer. He was unprepared and stumbled back to miss Barren’s blow. The men who stood on either side of their leader, drew their weapons, but were distracted by the twins, who
had drawn their double blades.
Suddenly, the pirates and privateers converged in a fierce rage that sounded of clashing metal and cries of hatred. Larkin stumbled back with her knife in hand. Perhaps this would have been a great time to listen to Barren, but she had expected these men to take her home. Instead, she’d discovered her father’s plans fell in line with William’s, and going home to Maris wasn’t going to happen as long as they needed the people of Maris to believe her to be dead. That meant Tetherion’s assumption that her father was a traitor rang true.
“This would be a good time for you to run!” Barren yelled.
But Larkin didn’t want to leave. Where would she go? Everyone around her was fighting, but that wouldn’t stop the privateers from going into town where women and children were hiding. She held up her knife, ready for a fight, but as she showed signs of staying and defending herself, privateers moved to encircle her. She stood tense but ready. She would fight them—she was skilled with a sword. How different could a knife be?
One of the men chuckled. “Feelin’ scared?”
Larkin narrowed her eyes, trying to appear as collected as possible. “Never,” she said. Her eyes shifted to Barren who was still engaged with the frizzy-haired leader of the privateers. It seemed the problem was that there were more privateers than pirates. With four men surrounding her, she had a few options that might keep them at bay.
One man reached for her, and she struck. The knife hit him. He drew back quickly, holding his bloodied hand to his chest, and after that, there was no time to lose—the other three men moved for her. She twisted, her knife brandished.
“Come now, love, don’t you wanna go home? What’d your father think if he heard you were fightin’ to stay at Barren Reed’s side?”
“He shouldn’t have sent a bunch of ragged privateers to claim me,” Larkin replied. An arm wound its way around her neck, and another hand pried the knife from her fingers. Within seconds, she was pressed against a privateer’s chest, her own knife to her throat. He began pulling her away. She had allowed herself to be distracted. She struggled against the man, and found that the privateer wasn’t afraid to press the knife into her skin further. She relented a little.
“Gone soft for the pirate now?” the man said against her ear. “Well that’s certainly a tale for your father. Though, I might be willin’ to keep it a secret for a price.”
“I’d rather you told!” Larkin’s nails dug into his arm, but his grip only grew tighter.
“Oh, I’ll tell all right,” the man’s breath was on her neck and she cringed. “And I’ll have my way with you, too.”
Larkin moved to elbow the man, but the blade at her neck cut into her skin.
“Now, now—we are playing nice. Just ease back and no harm will come to you.” Larkin remained tense. The three men who surrounded her before now formed a barrier, and all fought pirates who were trying to come to her rescue. Larkin’s eyes found Barren and she watched him fight. His muscles rippled as his blade crashed with his enemy’s. She had fought with him, but never observed him before. She expected his fighting style to be brutal, almost unfair—instead she found that he was precise, calculated, and fast. It was because of this, that he was finally able to take down the leader of the privateers. When Barren turned to face Larkin and her captor, she felt the man’s arm tighten around her neck in fear, and he began dragging her quickly away.
The barrier meant to protect Larkin and her captor from Barren failed, as each person was engaged in battle with another pirate. Barren rushed around them, only to be met with another privateer who had come to the captor’s rescue. With her abductor distracted by Barren’s attempts to gain ground, Larkin was able to grasp the man’s sweaty arm tightly, and relieve the pressure of the knife from her neck. She jammed her foot into the man’s leg. He hollered in pain, and released Larkin enough so that she could pull away from him, twist his arm, and take possession of her knife once again. She raised the blade at the greasy privateer and he snarled. “Now what’re you gonna do with that?”
“What I meant to do before,” she replied.
He rushed at Larkin, and she jumped out of the way, slicing the man’s arm. He howled in pain. Whipping around, he pressed a hand to the wound, blood seeping from between his fingers. He glared at her, breathing harshly. “I’m gonna kill—” his voice was cut short and he fell, an arrow in his back.
Larkin stared at the lifeless body before her. She wasn’t sure she could have killed him. She tossed the blade into the sand as a bloodied Barren approached her.
“Larkin,” he was breathless. “Are you okay?” The privateers were retreating, hurrying to their ship, and leaving their ruins behind. The pirates weren’t finished with them, however, because a few had produced hand cannons—they were smaller, and anchored into the ground by a piece of wood. Shots rang out and crashed into the privateer’s ships.
Larkin stared at Barren; she was unable to think clearly. He grasped her shoulders, but only for a moment. As she looked at him, a crease appeared between his brows and his eyes grew wide. Larkin hit the sand as two gunshots rang out. She saw Barren fall. He was on the ground, his voice rose in painful gasps.
“Barren!” Larkin crawled to him. Blood pooled from a wound at his shoulder and one at his side. Barren’s hands dug into the sand as his breathing grew heavier and heavier. Larkin gathered the fabric of her skirt in both hands, pressing it to his wound.
All she could think to do was scream; she was afraid. “Someone help me!”
Leaf pulled her away and she fell into the sand. “Nath! Dath! Help me!”
They picked him up and carried him toward town. Larkin trailed quickly behind. The trek to the McCloud’s house seemed to take forever as they hurried through the small town of Silver Crest, sad eyes following them. They entered through the front door and hurried Barren upstairs. His head fell back and she caught his gaze.
“Don’t die,” she whispered, standing in the doorway of the house, Barren’s blood dripping from the hem of her gown.
Barren woke up on a cold table. Darkness surrounded him. He shivered, not remembering how he had gotten here. After a moment, he sat up, studying the air. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—maybe a light to blaze, or someone to say his name, but silence filled the space. He moved off the slab, his feet touched the ground. Pushing his hands out, he ran them over a cold wall—it was smooth like marble. With the guide of the wall, he inched forward, stumbling into a set of stairs. He found, however, as he tried to climb them, that they only led to a thick set of doors—he could feel the cool handles beneath his skin. He struggled against them—their weight on his shoulders. Pausing, he rested for a moment, before taking a deep breath and pushing against them again.
The doors flew open with force, and he stumbled through, attacked by light. He fell, unaware that there were steps leading down from the place he had been. As he lay in the grass, his eyes adjusted, and he could see a figure above him—Larkin, but she was not paying attention to him. Her gaze was on something else. He followed it. A great mausoleum rose up before them—marble and magnificent. He realized it was the room he had just stumbled from, only now the doors were closed, and above them was a name, etched in black: “Barren Reed.”
Barren shook his head, “No,” he stood, reaching for Larkin, but his fingers only produced a chill. She didn’t even look his way. Then he noticed something different about her: a gown of deep purple was wrapped around her body. She wore a cloak of the same color, a gem clasped tight at her neck. The engagement ring that once hung there was on her finger. Upon her head was a crown of gold and diamonds, but all the wealth she wore could not hide her unhappiness. Her face was pale and drawn with loss. What had happened here? Why was she this person?
She wasn’t meant to be this person.
But how did Barren know that? He had taken her from her home, from her life. How did he know she didn’t belong?
Because it didn’t feel right. Because no matter how stubbor
n Larkin was, she did not deserve William’s inattention.
As if on cue, the bulky form of his brother appeared. He was happy—a stark contrast to his bride. He placed an arm around her and pulled her to him. He was dressed in a rich red shirt with gold clasps, black pants, and a fur-lined cloak, but the one thing Barren couldn’t take his eyes off of was the crown on his head. It was a gold circle of fleur-de-lis, and at the very front, a bright red gem glowed. Barren could only assume it was the bloodstone. But if William was king...where was Tetherion? Nath and Dath...everyone else? Barren slowly moved beyond his mausoleum and horror met him. The graves of his crew stretched before him. He felt sick. All he ever wanted was for them to be safe.
He ripped his eyes open, sitting up with a start. Overwhelmed with pain, he fell against the pillows, breathing hard. He reached for his chest, where the sting was worse, but someone stopped him, moving his hand to rest against his stomach. Larkin appeared above him, worry written all over her face. She sat down on the bed, smoothing his hair away from his face and laying a wet towel on his heated skin.
“Larkin,” he breathed.
She smiled faintly. The worry in her eyes receded a little.
“What happened?”
He remembered fighting privateers, but everything after that was a blur.
“You were shot,” she whispered. “The bullets didn’t exit. You almost died.”
Barren swallowed. His body felt clammy and he shook with cold, though somehow he knew he was probably feverish—his body was covered in sweat. He was trying to think clearly, but his mind was muddled with pain.
“Jonathan is dead,” Larkin’s voice shook as she spoke, and her eyes were red. “There were privateers...they came to kidnap me so I could not return to Maris and ruin my father and William’s plans.”
Barren was quiet for a long moment. Larkin’s gaze fell as tears threatened her eyes. “I should tell Leaf you are awake. He will want to know.”
