Cutlass (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Nath said nothing. They both knew they were in this situation to betray Barren. It had been their job to maintain their location, and give it away when needed. Nath had not fallen into the task easily, and he really had no reason to—he would never be king, being the youngest twin.

  The door to the cabin opened and shut and the thud of boots crossed the floor. Now and then, the click of his cane against the wood sounded between the shuffling of his feet. Tension immediately filled the room as Christopher Lee made his way toward the twins. The three did not get along, and they didn’t pretend to. Most of their time was spent ignoring one another. Christopher stopped before the desk and glared at Datherious.

  “Lord Lee,” Datherious acknowledged the old man with a nod. “Shouldn’t you be manning the helm?”

  “Do you really think leaving the pirates below deck to plan their escape is a good idea?”

  Datherious chuckled darkly. “What are they going to do? We stripped them of their weapons and shackled their hands.”

  “You are making a mistake—not all pirates work together, but they do. They are probably devising a plan as we speak.”

  “I am not doubting their plans,” said Datherious. “I am doubting their ability to do anything in their present state. If you are so concerned, Lord, then why don’t you sit with them?”

  Christopher scowled. “So what will you do when we arrive? Who will stay with them? And who will search the island?”

  “You are mistaken if you think my brother and I will stay behind. We have a duty to our father—really, I am not sure why you are here.”

  “Why are you here?” asked Natherious, lowering Barren’s sketchbook and staring at the lord.

  Christopher narrowed his eyes. “You are both childish. You know nothing about what your father and I have done to get this far, and here you are, taking the weight of what you are about to encounter without consideration, without care.”

  “I think you are afraid,” said Datherious. He dropped his hand from his chin, and then took slow steps toward the old man. “I’m not sure why you have been around here so long. The bloodstone is obviously of no use to you, and you’ve never been here for our father, have you? You hate him.”

  Christopher’s eyes were pale, and he didn’t look at the young twin.

  “See,” Dath said lightly, backing away. “I think when your wife died, you swore revenge. I think that’s why you are still here. It could have all been prevented, you know—had Kenna listened to father.”

  “She would have died either way,” said Christopher slowly, almost sadly.

  “What care would you have had, had you not loved her?” the twin paused and rubbed his whiskered chin. “What good came of it anyway? Your daughter is a disloyal brat. Her reputation is ruined, tainted. She will never be anything in Maris now.”

  Christopher raised his head slowly to meet Datherious’s gaze. He was still smiling, mocking the lord, waiting for him to snap. The dark twin was succeeding—he could see the old man’s eyes burn with rage.

  “Unless….”

  “We do not bargain with my daughter, Datherious Reed.”

  “No?” the prince furrowed his brows. “Did you not bargain with William? Murder Jess Reed in exchange for her hand in marriage?”

  “A marriage I knew would not last.”

  “It will not last now—her affection has turned to Barren. I suppose girls make mistakes. She has merely fallen into the trap Barren has led her into. He does not love her, she will see. Once he is dead.”

  Christopher gnashed his teeth together, glaring at the prince. “Barren may die, but my daughter will not see a future with you.”

  Datherious shrugged. “Then she will die, too.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  The twin raised his hands in defense. “If she is not my wife, she is nothing to me.”

  Christopher moved his cane into both hands—it was his instinct, but as he did, a dangerous smirk spread across Datherious’s face.

  “Careful, Lord. I am a prince, and the definition of treason can include raising arms against royalty.”

  “I gave your king my life,” said Christopher through his teeth. “I will not give you my daughter, too.”

  “You really think she’ll come back to you after this? She has a choice now—she has always had a choice, you just kept her sheltered, immobile. Not teaching her how to swim…that was a good trick. It kept her away from pirates for seventeen years, but I am afraid Barren has done what you would not.”

  Christopher turned from the twin and headed for the door. “What are you going to do? Go get her? She is my prisoner—a fugitive until I say otherwise.”

  The old man stood rigid, angry, but just as he was about to turn and face Datherious again, a knock sounded at the door and one of the privateers appeared.

  “Your majesties, Lord,” he bowed. “Better come take a look at this.”

  The three men filed out of the captain’s quarters. They didn’t need to go far to see what the privateer had been talking about—it was right before them. It was night, and all around was darkness, except for the horizon, where light ripped through the sky, illuminating it. The clouds were like billows of smoke piled upon one another. It was both frightening and deadly, and none of the men onboard wanted to go near it.

  “There’s no way we’ll make it through that storm. Our mast will be the first thing to fall,” said the privateer.

  “Were you asked for your opinion?” Datherious’s dark voice cut the air. The man shrunk away, and Datherious’s blue-gray eyes turned to Christopher Lee.

  “Can you navigate us through that?”

  The old man scoffed. “You sailed with Barren Reed and cannot navigate a ship through a storm?”

  “I asked you.”

  “Of course I can’t—all that I remembered from those days are gone.”

  Datherious looked at his brother, and the brother shook his head. “Not me, but there is one who could do it.”

  The twin waited.

  “Barren.”

  “I will not bring him to this helm. He will kill us all for vengeance!”

  Natherious shrugged. “He has a vested interested in reaching that island just as you do.”

  The twin thought for a moment, running his finger across his bottom lip. “Hmm. Bring me Barren Reed!”

  ***

  Larkin traced the scars that bubbled across Barren’s skin. He watched her do it for a long moment, thinking it strange that she felt so comfortable touching them. Each scar had a story, and they were mostly all well-deserved. Some were small and unthreatening, some were long and frightening.

  She started on the path of one scar that ran from his thumb and disappeared beneath the sleeve of his shirt. It had been a deep cut, severing muscles in his shoulder. Leaf worked long and tirelessly to save his arm, and he came out fine in the end.

  “My skin is a map of scars,” Barren said quietly. “None have been good. Those that look the best were mostly Leaf’s handiwork. I have him to thank for my survival.”

  “He is a good man.”

  Barren smirked. “He is an Elf.”

  Larkin stopped tracing his scars for a moment and looked at Barren.

  “Was Estrellas the first place you thought you might die?”

  “Hardly the first where it was possible, but I have never thought of death in those situations.”

  Larkin’s fingers moved to trace his palm, causing an electric sensation to run from his stomach, through his chest and flush his cheeks.

  “If we do make it to the bloodstone, have you decided what you will do with it?” asked Larkin.

  This was the question Barren was dreading. He would have to tell her—the only way they could destroy it was together, with their blood, but that could mean their deaths, and Barren would not ask her to pledge to that uncertainty. “Barren?” she shifted to look at him, seeing worry pull at his features. “What is it?”

  He rubbed his face before speaking,
as if trying to erase what he knew was clearly written in his features. “Destroying the bloodstone is a harder decision than it seems, Larkin.”

  “How? There must be a way! You cannot hand it over to Tetherion.”

  “It can be destroyed,” Barren said evenly. “But dark magic is tricky and there is no way to tell what will happen after it’s destroyed. If it were only my life in question, I would destroy the stone without a second thought, but that is not the case.”

  Larkin narrowed her eyes, and Barren could tell she had already guessed what he was going to say, but she asked anyway. “What do you mean?”

  Barren stared at her for a long moment, taking in her fierce gaze.

  “The bloodstone can only be destroyed if it comes into contact with the blood of Sysara and Kenna—our blood.”

  “And that means we may die?”

  Barren nodded.

  “Then we have to take that chance, Barren.”

  “You should not have to lose your life for this. This isn’t…this wasn’t your doing.”

  “And it wasn’t yours, either,” Larkin reminded. “But what Tetherion does affects both of us, and if we don’t at least try to end this thing…he will defeat us and everyone we care about.”

  Barren swallowed hard. “It’s not so simple. It’s the magic—that’s what determines my life or death—your life or death. Lord Alder said that if it chooses to let us live, it’s expecting something in return. I can’t imagine what’s worse, dying or being a slave to such a terrible thing.”

  “Well, it doesn’t sound like there’s a choice,” Larkin argued. “Barren, I know you feel you need to protect me because of the code, but I hardly think that applies now that we’re held hostage by my father and the twins.”

  “It’s not about the code, Larkin,” Barren said and then he bit his bottom lip, as if trying to stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “I don’t want you to die. I mean…it matters to me that you live.”

  It wasn’t about the code anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. He watched Larkin as she leaned in toward him, and he was sure she would kiss him again, but in the darkness beyond the yellow lanterns, a loud boom escaped into the air, and two men came forward, their eyes set on Barren. They jerked Barren from the floor and unlocked his shackles.

  “His majesty wants to see you,” one said, his voice rasped.

  “What are you doing? Leave him alone!” Larkin cried. She reached for one of the guards, but he slapped her away. “Better not defend him, Lady. You’re in enough trouble.”

  They dragged Barren away, and all his crew could do was watch and wonder what the twins needed with him.

  Barren entered the hostile night. The wind picked up and gusted over the ship. The sky pulsed with fire, just waiting to explode in pounding thunder. Barren recalled Devon’s words, and knew this storm was not good—they’d be lucky to survive it, and their only hope lay in the fact that this ship was built for battle.

  The guards kicked Barren in the back of his knees so he fell before the twins.

  “What do you want?”

  “So much anger,” Datherious chided. “You must learn to control your temper; you are speaking to your superior.”

  “Traitors can never be superiors.”

  “Oh, but you are a pirate—everyone surpasses you.”

  “You already forgot so much of your past.”

  “I was only following orders from my father; I was never loyal to you.”

  As Barren sat on his knees, large drops of rain began to fall. They were like ice as they hit him, increasing as the seconds passed.

  “So why pay so much attention to me now?” he asked.

  “We need you to sail this ship to the coordinates you provided.”

  “No,” said Barren evenly.

  “You want everyone on board to die?”

  “If the Orient wants you to pass, you will.”

  “This is not the Orient’s war—it is your mother’s.”

  “If I am at the helm, there is no guarantee we will make it,” said Barren.

  “Then I suppose we will meet our end.”

  The guards jerked Barren to his feet and hauled him to the helm. Barren placed his hands on the wet spindles, but the guards weren’t finished with him yet. They wrapped rope around his wrists and tied them to the wheel.

  Barren glared at Datherious. “You know—just in case you try anything.”

  “Like jumping off this ship in a raging storm?”

  Datherious shrugged. “You never know.”

  Barren watched as the twins disappeared from view, preferring to stay warm and safe in their cabin. Even as captain, Barren never left his crew alone on deck in a storm, but he expected no such loyalty from the twins. He set his sights ahead, having the coordinates memorized by heart, and challenged the storm.

  “Tie down your cannons! Anything of use to you!” Barren called. “And when you have nothing left to save, save yourselves!” From experience, Barren knew just how merciless nature could be.

  The first harsh wave rocked the vessel, and water rushed into the night sky, flooding the deck. The privateers were all frightened, and held onto anything they could for dear life. Never had they seen a storm like this.

  The rain came down in thick sheets, coating Barren’s vision. All he could do was keep his arms strong and resist the oceans push and pull. Wave after wave rose to crash upon them. Barren lost his footing and fell to the ground, his wrists straining against the ropes tied to the wheel.

  Steadying himself, he focused on the battle again. Before him, he watched a mirage of light converge. He knew somehow that this was the end. If he didn’t get through this, he would have failed, and the Orient would leave them in limbo, lost in the breadth of darkness. As the ship was consumed in light and water, Barren was also—he and all on board. His only consciousness was silence—stark, deafening.

  Barren lay there for a moment, his body weak and sore. As he opened his eyes and tried to move, he was overcome with pain. He waited for the spasms to pass before he moved again and made it to his feet, stretching his back. Somehow in all the madness of the storm, he had broken free from the helm, and now red marks surfaced on his wrists. He looked around, and could do nothing but stare.

  Before him were hundreds of wrecked ships, jutting out from the Orient and into thick fog. It was a graveyard of wood, sails, and debris. A few of the ships’ masts still rose from the water, tattered flags rippling in the air. Barren shuddered—he remembered this, though it had only been in his nightmares. It unnerved him to see that this was real, and he wondered how many had died in these waters. As he observed the scene, he swore he heard a low, haunting melody. As if ghosts were roaming about him. He didn’t like it.

  “Why aren’t we moving?” Datherious demanded, coming out of his cabin. “Where the hell are we?”

  Datherious grew quiet as he saw what was around him—there was something silencing about the graveyard—perhaps it was the realization that they could have joined the throngs of sailors resting beneath them.

  “This is where we’re supposed to be,” said Barren. “The island must be ahead of us.”

  Datherious’s dark eyes fell upon Barren. “Then make this ship move.”

  Barren wasn’t even sure if it could. From the looks of it, they had lost most of the crew. Only a few haggard men, Christopher Lee and the twins were on board.

  There was barely a breeze, but the few men who were left, freed the sails. They were off to a slow start, which was probably best, as Barren had to cut through a maze of wrecked ships and their ancient debris—it was good he had spent so much time among the Cliffs of Maris. As they crept along, Barren had the haunting feeling that his father had done this very thing.

  No one spoke as they passed the graveyard, even Datherious and Natherious remained on deck, staring out at the destruction. The only person who didn’t seem affected was Christopher Lee, and Barren wondered if he was slowly remembering what had taken place all
those years ago. He seemed troubled and pained.

  Barren peered through the mist as it swirled around them like smoke, looking for any sign of land. It was no use, however. All he could see was a wall of gray.

  “Must’ve been fate that got us through the storm,” said Natherious.

  “Yes, but for who?” questioned Lee.

  Datherious smirked. “I think you used up your turn when you got here the first time. It’s someone else’s turn now.”

  “Do you even know what you are looking for? Or the significance of such an object?”

  “A stone composed of dark magic that will give our line invincibility—pretty significant.”

  “You think Tetherion wants you to rule?” Christopher laughed. “Tetherion will let no one but himself come into possession of the stone. He has no wish to share power with you.”

  Datherious’ eyes turned dark—it was a very calm anger, eating away at his irises.

  “The stone only makes my father invincible. It does not make him immortal,” Datherious replied curtly.

  Shrouded in thick fog, the graveyard seemed to last for an eternity. Barren soon noticed that the amount of debris was lessening, and that the fog was dissipating. The first thing he could make out in the distance was the tall peak of a mountain, then a thick curtain of greenery, and last a white strip of beach. The fog slipped away, and in this state, the island exuded peace and serenity, but Barren had a bad feeling about what lay beyond that shore. As he stared, flashes of his nightmares reeled through his mind. He remembered standing on the sandy beach, staring wide-eyed at the graveyard, and watching his father and William fight.

  As Barren and the rest of the twins’ crew prepared to dock, he noticed Datherious growing tense. Now it had come to it—the race. Who would stay and who would go? There were three people on this ship who needed the bloodstone, and all with different intentions.

  Barren began moving toward the rail of the ship when a harsh voice cut through the air.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Datherious had turned and stood with his sword drawn. “You don’t get to leave this ship, and neither do you.” He looked at Christopher Lee. “My brother and I are the only two who are going.”