by Ashley Nixon
“Where is my sword, my knife?” he demanded of the figure in his room.
“I took them.” Lord Alder appeared in the moonlight. Barren looked around for Illiana, but there was no sign of her—had he been dreaming?
“She came to you in your dreams,” the Elf-Lord said, as if he were reading Barren’s thoughts.
“Where is she now?”
“She is dead,” Lord Alder said simply. “She used what remained of her power to appear to you in your sleep.”
He spoke of her death so nonchalantly. As if it were payment in exchange for her betrayal to him.
“You bastard! You threatened my mother! You took me away from her!”
Lord Alder’s features were like stone—perfectly sculpted and cold. “I see Illiana has done well giving her side of this story, but let me allow you mine.” When Lord Alder spoke, it was as if his voice surrounded Barren, commanding his obedience and punishing him for his disrespect.
“There were rules. Rules that dictated exactly how Lyrics were supposed to act. Your mother broke those rules, and because of that she was not allowed family. More importantly, she accepted it because she knew she would put you in danger if you were left with her. You see, of all those who betrayed their blood, perhaps Illiana was the worst. She wanted Tetherion. She believed she was in love with him and did not listen when we warned her of his deceit. I could not refuse their marriage without the threat of war on my doorstep. She wed him, swearing an oath that she would not speak of magic, but she broke that promise and Tetherion came to me soon after with the demand to give him more power. Illiana was ashamed of what she did, and she blamed herself for the deaths of many.”
The Elf paused and took a breath. “Your mother’s death was a tragedy, but I had nothing to do with her choice to destroy the bloodstone.”
“You threatened her,” Barren hissed.
“I did,” he agreed. “But here you are again, faced with your own devastation and not considering the other side. My people were in danger, Barren. A whole race, and my son—what was I supposed to do?”
“You had magic! You could have stopped—”
“It is exactly that thinking that got your uncle where he is today. I will not stop mortals with magic. I will not stoop to such petty thinking. I did what I felt I had to do.” Then Lord Alder smirked, and a horrible feeling crept over Barren. “You should feel empowered, Barren Reed—for you have the power. You can have your revenge all in one day if you choose. Destroy the bloodstone, and avenge your family. Would you not like that?”
Barren did not feel empowered. He only felt confused.
“I would feel empowered if I knew where the bloodstone was. If I knew where you had exiled the Lyrics.”
“Pity she did not tell you.”
“Why not just tell me? Why do your best to keep everything from me?”
“If you had lived as long as I, you would learn to mistrust any but your own kind.”
“I think you miss being powerful, that’s why you keep secrets.”
“I keep secrets to keep my people safe!” he hissed. “Do not pretend you understand me, young Barren Reed. How could you know anything of life when you have lived only for revenge?”
Barren set his teeth and the lord turned to leave, but he paused at the door.
“Dark magic is a tricky thing. It is almost alive, for it holds grudges…. and depending on what it wants, it could choose to keep you alive, but if it does, you need to consider what it wants from you. Because it will want…and it will take—from only you.”
With that, the lord left, closing the door behind him. Barren crashed against his pillow, staring at the shadowy ceiling. He hardly felt satisfied. He had so many unanswered questions. Why had Christopher kept Kenna a secret so long? Why had he not pinned Jess as the killer, if he truly believed him to be responsible? Barren knew he would have to tell Larkin, whether it meant having her hatred or not. He knew how horrible it was to be lied to.
“We will not be returning the bloodstone to Tetherion,” Barren said. He had made his decision. He expected resistance. He expected to be told he was stupid—and he hadn’t even explained the rest of his plan yet.
They stood beneath the skylight in the great hall. Water trickled in the background, making Barren all the more eager to set sail.
“But that will make you an enemy to the king,” Datherious said. Barren had wondered how the twins would react. They did not have the same information Barren had, and he would not divulge what he knew about their father. He didn’t want to be responsible for delivering the news. Looking at them now, they seemed surprised and defensive, but perhaps they were merely warning him.
“I have always been his enemy. I am a pirate.” As much as Barren hated to admit it, he saw that now. “I threatened his throne. No matter our relations, I cannot exist as a pirate and he a king and not be his enemy. It is the law of this world.”
“So what will you do instead?” asked Natherious.
“I know enough now to understand that keeping something so powerful, something so potentially evil alive, would be a mistake. No matter who possesses it. I will destroy it.”
His crew exchanged glances, and their stances tightened in defense, but Devon and Em bristled with pride and relief.
“Barren, you know the results of that decision,” said Leaf. “You will die.”
Barren shook his head. “There’s a chance I will live, but only if Larkin chooses to help me. We have no choice but to head toward Cape Oceaniana. I need Larkin.”
Leaf laughed. “I never thought I’d hear you say that aloud!”
Barren laughed, too, rubbing the back of his neck.
“And how do you propose finding Larkin in Cape Oceaniana?” asked Cove.
Barren smiled. “Is your famous Network not stationed everywhere? I’m sure they would know if Christopher Lee and William Reed graced their shores.”
The Ambassador smiled. “I am sure they would.”
“All right then,” said Sam, rubbing his hands together. “To Cape Oceaniana.”
***
Barren traced Jess’s map from Devon’s arm, and Leaf studied its outline. They still had no idea where the bloodstone was, and the only clue was the map. Leaf’s brows took turns furrowing and smoothing as he tried to figure out what everything meant, but he was at a loss. He had never seen anything like this before, and he turned it in every direction, trying to figure out what it said.
“If you ask me, it’s not a map,” said Leaf.
“Then what is it?”
“A poorly drawn picture,” Leaf handed the map to Barren.
They sat on the deck of the ship, legs crossed, and a basket of bread and water beside them. As soon as the Elf’s hands were free, they dove into the basket, pulling out stale bread and dried fruits for him and Barren to eat.
“This is serious, Leaf. I believe Em when she said my father did nothing in vain.”
“The map isn’t the vain part,” said Leaf. “It’s feeding everyone poison so they don’t remember anything about it.”
Barren couldn’t argue with that, though he now understood his father’s decisions better.
“I want to know if Tetherion’s intentions are truly evil,” Barren said quietly. He had told Leaf everything that happened the night before. Part of him still wanted to believe Tetherion only wished to keep the bloodstone in the King’s vault, and to not use it for power. He wanted to believe that all the trust between them wasn’t false. “Perhaps he has changed.”
Leaf considered that for a moment. “Perhaps. It is not wrong to hope.”
He could tell by the way Leaf had spoken that he shouldn’t be too hopeful. Barren stared unseeing, at the space before him, thinking.
“Only weeks ago I thought my brother would be dead at my feet. My behavior seems silly now. I think I pursued revenge so diligently because I believed I was partly responsible for my father’s death. That second before William attacked—those moments when I could have cr
ied out, gotten his attention, made him turn. Now I realize it would have been in vain. He was going to die anyway. He’d prepared himself for it. He’d prepared us all for it. I just wish he hadn’t taken my memories with him.”
“That is when you must remember that Jess never did anything in vain.”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose I must.”
Barren could feel the Elf’s eyes on him as he sat, staring at nothing in particular.
“You seem most unlike yourself, Captain.”
Barren laughed a little. “I suppose I am just regretting my mistakes.”
“Is this about Larkin?”
Barren shrugged a shoulder. “Among other things,” he replied. “I wish I had not been so selfish.”
“You are young, Barren, and the young are selfish, but there is a lot about you that is selfless. You would do anything to protect those closest to you—the result of watching the one you love most, perish, perhaps.”
Barren looked down at his hands. The way Leaf spoke of him sometimes made him sound overly heroic, and Barren didn’t feel he could claim such an attribute.
“Besides, Larkin has been good for you,” the Elf mused. “She argues with you, and that’s entertaining. And who would have thought Barren Reed would become fond of someone so willing to defy him?”
“I could never be fond of the daughter of a lord and the fiancée of my brother,” Barren replied quietly.
“Well, I don’t know about that. You’ve probably spent more time with her than either Christopher or William.”
Barren picked up the map and stood, wanting to put an end to this conversation quickly.
“I am the epitome of everything she hates, as she has made quite clear to me time and time again.”
“If you truly believed that, why are you so desperate to help her? Never mind that you need her for the bloodstone—you wanted her before you knew that.”
Barren’s features grew hard. “You’re a pirate—what would you know of any of this?”
Leaf smiled, but it was a melancholy smile. “More than you would ever know,” he replied distantly, and Barren knew he’d said the wrong thing. The Elf’s features were pained—this was the look of real loss. Of never being able to see, much less touch a loved one again. Barren knew that look well.
Leaf moved from his place on the deck and walked like a ghost toward the front of the ship where the Orient crashed into the hull. Barren followed, unsure of what terrible memory he had unearthed.
“I joke about many things, Barren, and I know you do not always take what I say seriously, but believe me when I say, I have known love and I have known the loss of that love.”
“I-I didn’t know.”
“Not many do,” said Leaf, his eyes were set on the sea, and she, as if in reaction to his feelings, grew more restless. “Remember when I told you I spent time in Estrellas?”
“Yes, for the murder of several men.”
“I killed them for her.”
Barren wasn’t sure what to say next. Part of him felt like he should leave the conversation as it was. These feelings Leaf was digging up had been buried in his subconscious for years, and having them rush to the forefront of his mind was not good. On the other hand, Barren felt that he needed to know more.
“What was her name?”
Leaf smiled, and it was as if he was remembering sunlight, sweetness, and the gentleness of spring.
“Her name was Fira. She was brave, beautiful, and she loved me. Me, the rebel Prince of Aurum—she wanted me. I was never so enchanted and never so much in love.”
“What happened?”
“She was murdered,” said Leaf quietly. “She sailed with me against the wishes of her father. We came to port on an island called Aryndel, in the Octent. We should not have gone, for rarely are Elves of Aurum welcomed in the Octent. We were only staying there for a night—we needed supplies, but a few drunken men at the Inn couldn’t keep their eyes off Fira,” Leaf laughed bitterly. “They may not like us, but they like the look of our women. I didn’t like it, so I felt it best we leave. We just wanted to return to our ship and sail on, but the men had a different idea and followed us. They surrounded us outside the Inn, and took Fira from my side. They didn’t know I was armed, and they assumed they could beat me in a confrontation. When I drew my blade, they split up—three attempted to take me and the other four dragged Fira away.
“The men weren’t hard to fight, I must admit. They were too drunk to realize they had messed with the wrong person. They mocked me, and I took them down. All the while I could hear Fira screaming for my help somewhere in the distance. I followed her cries, but as soon as the men saw me, they knew their friends were dead. Only one of the men took his revenge—an ugly, greasy man with black hair. He withdrew a knife and drove it through Fira over and over again. He met his death just as violently as Fira…and the others followed.”
Leaf was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was strained.
“She died in my arms, and the soldiers found me soon after. I refused to move until they let me lay her to rest. I sent her body away in flames and then let them take me. At first I did not care what happened to me. I took the torture, and I wanted to die.”
“What changed?” Barren’s voice was barely a whisper, and as he spoke, he felt chills rise over his skin.
Leaf smiled. “A dream, a beautiful dream. She came to me as real and warm as she had been before her death. She asked me not to give up, and I would never deny her what she wanted. Since then I have searched for a dream like that one.”
“I am sorry, Leaf.”
“It is easier to keep her death in the back of my mind and her life at the forefront. My point is, whether from shame or your stubbornness, do not let what you feel for Larkin slip past you so easily. You will never forgive yourself.”
“You make it sound…simple.”
“Well, I never said it would be easy,” said Leaf. “But the fight for Larkin never promised to be easy. You learned that the day you met her.”
Barren touched his chest where she’d hit him with the heels of her boots. She’d been so angry…so unexpectedly violent.
“And you have come a long way from that,” Leaf continued. “Which is good…I have never been so sick of the Cliffs in all my life.”
Barren laughed quietly. “But it should not have happened. She was my prisoner.”
“You don’t need to care that it happened,” said Leaf. “You only need to know that it has, and embrace it…because the rest of us have been taking bets, and I want to win.”
Barren slugged Leaf in the arm, but couldn’t help laughing. “I should have known something was up. You never offer advice without something in it for yourself.”
“Well, there is something in it for you, too,” said Leaf. “She has taught you a lot, and she’ll continue to teach you a lot. She’s not afraid of you, Barren Reed. Never has been, and never will be.”
For hours, Barren stared at the design he traced from the tattoo on Devon’s arm. He had tried to take it apart piece by piece to see if any of it morphed into something he recognized, but so far he had gotten nowhere. He looked between the image and the map of the Orient, thinking he could make a comparison, but he felt as if he really had no starting point.
Throwing his pencil down, Barren pulled his sketchbook toward him and turned the page. Larkin stared back at him. He had never finished the drawing. He had planned to tear it to pieces so no one would ever find it, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Now, he was thankful he hadn’t.
Turning the page, he found the invitation to Larkin’s engagement party. For a moment, he studied the handwriting, wondering who had taken such care to write them. It seemed so long ago that he had met her—beautiful and ignorant, but so determined. He knew the only thing he could do was hope against hope that these invitations never came into use again. Without another thought, he tore the invitation in two and shoved the pieces in the sket
chbook.
He missed her, feared for her. Every night he lay down to sleep, and images of their time in Estrellas passed through his mind. He saw her pain, the anguish, the betrayal she felt as her father refused to listen to her pleas. Suddenly, Barren was filled with a deep, burning rage. He sat for a moment, brooding in the thick air surrounding him, repressing the sudden wish to take revenge for Larkin.
Then the feeling crashed and it was replaced by severe sadness. Everything Barren was at this moment was the opposite of what he should be—the rage, the merciless thoughts of murder—none of that belonged to him. He was a product of what William had done. Larkin had asked him that once, while they stared up at the stars—an ancient pirate’s map.
Suddenly, Barren had an idea and his eyes went to the image of the tattoo. He pushed back his chair and began pulling open drawers, emptying their content upon the floor. Papers spilled everywhere, empty inkwells rolled, and metal mapping tools crashed to the ground. One drawer after the other piled before him.
“Come on, Cove!” Barren growled to himself. “I know you’ve got to have a star map.”
Barren pulled open the last drawer, and it was full of rolled scrolls. He picked them all up and laid them out on his desk. He opened them one-by-one, placing the ones he didn’t need on the ground. Finally, Barren came to one scroll with silver edging. As he unrolled it, images of the sky’s constellations rose before him. He saw them all—Orion Navis (the ship), Pyxis (the mariner’s compass), the legendary Kraken, Jack Ketch (the executioner), and finally the constellation Barren was looking for: Circinus, the drafting compass—the constellation from which Barren could navigate in any direction.
The pirate sat the drawing of Devon’s tattoo beside the constellation map—the two drawings were essentially the same design: an open-ended triangle. Both were also the same length. It was then Barren remembered something Leaf had said—that the Lyrics were placed on an island to themselves, isolated, forbidden to interact with mortals. Perhaps the island wasn’t far from Aurum.
