Satisfied they had eaten their fill, she took the bowls and the cups and sat on the small, three legged stool and silently scrutinized them. “Yes,” she muttered. “I can see it.”
“She’s lost her mind,” Gregory said.
Estelle stilled him with a hand on his arm. “What can you see?” she asked gently.
“Mortis Rex” the old woman said.
“I’ve read those words before,” Estelle said.
“And no doubt you want to know what they mean.” The old woman cackled. “But first let me tell you that you won’t believe a word of it. You’ll think that I’m making it all up, telling you stories, that it couldn’t be true. You both think that I’m a foolish old woman who needs a good wash and a better place to live. I can see that, too. I can see lots of things.”
“Where have you seen those words?” Gregory asked, turning towards Estelle.
Estelle glanced sideways at him, but didn’t say a word.
“Still distrustful I see. I would have hoped for more. Still, you two are bound to each other. The chords of fate have tied you to each other. Even as you speak to me they tighten. That cannot be changed. That which has started by magic, will be finished,” the old woman said.
Estelle moved to the edge of the pallet and lent towards the old woman, “Nothing has started between us. There is nothing. There never will be. We are not bound in any way other than payment for what he has done to my father,” Estelle said.
“I keep on telling you. I have done nothing to your father. I have found where he is and you have stopped me from his rescue,” Gregory said.
The old woman tutted. “This will never do. You two are meant to be falling in love. It is the prophecy, the finishing circle of magic. Amor fati. The fate of love. It cannot be wrong.” She muttered to herself and began rummaging through the several containers on the table top.
“In love!” Estelle gasped.
“Nonsense,” Gregory said at the same time. Estelle treated him to a long sidelong glance.
“I used to be young and beautiful, like you,” she indicated to Estelle with the tilt of her head, “and the fates spoke to me. When it has a hold of you, there is no escape. Like you, I didn’t believe. Time has a way of showing you how wrong the young can be. I also thought I was in love. But your love, the love that you will have with each other, will be a real and lasting thing.”
“Madam, who are you and why did you bring us here?” Gregory demanded.
“You can think of me as your fairy godmother. And as for saving you, well, let’s just say it’s in my interest to have you together,” the old woman said.
“Surely you have a name,” Estelle said.
The old woman scooped out some items from a lidded bowl and replaced the lid. “Once I did. It has been so long since someone has called me by my name, I have almost forgotten it myself.”
“Maybe you can tell us where we are?” Gregory said.
“On an island surrounded by many more. There is old magic in these parts,” she said.
“Paradise,” Estelle whispered.
The old woman nodded, a humorless smile spread on her mouth showing several missing teeth. “It was magic that brought you here. I have asked the gods for so long and at last they have provided. They must have thought I suffered enough over these years. I knew if I just kept praying they would hear me. Even they know the good must balance the bad.”
“That is preposterous,” Gregory said.
“Let me show you.” The old woman threw the small stones that she held in her hand on the dirt floor. They scattered in all directions and Estelle saw that there were white scratches on the top and underside of the smooth brown stones. “The runes never lie,” she said, studying the stones with a practiced eye.
Estelle looked closely at the stones. The lines were not scratches at all, but were definite and quite intricate in their organization of the designs on each stone.
The old woman pointed to them with a gnarled finger, “There! I am right! There are the binding fates that surround a woman and a man brought to me on the breath of divine spirit. There is a task, something that binds you together, something strong enough to end these years of blackness. What is changed by magic must also be righted. Your fates have changed from an event caused by powerful magic. The gods have deemed fit to repay.”
“I can’t see anything except chicken markings,” Gregory said.
The old woman looked at Estelle, here eye glinting with an intelligence that age had not wiped away, “But you do, don’t you, Estelle. You believe. In fact, you know it is true. If not for your friend’s magic, I could not have called for you. You have your own magic, but you have only touched the surface of it. You are more powerful than you give yourself credit for, more powerful than you could ever imagine.”
“Can you tell me how to use it? My voice? Tell me, please,” Estelle pleaded.
“It is something that must be learned. It is different for everyone.”
“What is she talking about?” Gregory demanded.
“That is also something for you to find out for yourself. I cannot tell. The fates would not allow it. At long last I have been granted a wish and I will not jeopardize my chance. They have intervened and brought you to me to end that which should not have begun.”
Estelle perched on the edge of the pallet, silent. She pursed her lips. “If we do this task, will you help me get back to my crew?”
“You worry about them. Understandable.” She picked up the runes, pressed them into her palm and murmured some low toned, unintelligible words before scattering them over the floor. “Danger surrounds them, but for the moment they are safe but you will not see them again before you do what the fates intend for you. So many lands, which one is the most powerful? All pieces of a puzzle. All tell but one chapter of a long, ancient story.”
Estelle sighed, her shoulders sagging a little. “What do I have to do?”
“Not just you. Both,” the old woman said.
“I have had enough of this,” Gregory said, standing. The hut was too small for him to stretch to his full height and he had to bend his neck and shoulders. He held the old woman with an edge of steel in his eyes. “Madam, thank you for your rescue and for the meal, but I must insist on leaving.”
The old woman tutted and shook her head. “Such a long way to go.”
“How many miles to the nearest town?” Gregory asked.
“I wasn’t talking about location,” the old woman said.
He stiffly bowed his head towards the old woman. “Madam, good day to you.” Gregory made to step through the rough doorway of the hut when the old woman held him by his forearm with a speed remarkable for her age.
She touched her finger to her lips. “Shhh. They are coming.”
As she whispered, Estelle saw shadowy figures pass the hut, blocking out the twinkling sunshine as they moved. There were no crunching of stones or snapping on twigs as heavy men would do as they walked. There was only an eerie silence that had blanketed the animals and birdsong. The old woman held her finger to her lips, facing both Gregory and Estelle, silently warning that they too keep quiet. Estelle slowly stood and drew her sword, triggered by the stark fear she saw etched into the woman face.
She watched them pass, shadows sliding between the small, uneven gaps in the bracken walls. They were dressed head to foot in black, their large hats obscuring their faces in deep shadow. All had their swords drawn, gleaming dull silver in the sunlight. They didn’t speak, but moved with a purposeful intent.
By the look of their clothes, they were the pirates from the ship. Estelle glanced at Gregory. He returned her look. His jaw clenched tight and a pulse ticked at the base of his throat. He also knew who they were. His hand went to the hilt at his belt then fell away slowly.
As if reading his thou
ghts, the old woman moved to the pallet, reached beneath the dirty blankets strewn on top and withdrew a golden, gleaming broad sword. It was the most magnificent sword Estelle had seen. The handle was intricate in design, having an intertwining patterns of lines where hand met sword. The ends of the lines wound into two dragon heads facing each other as if poised to fight, mouths open, revealing large pointy teeth and licking flames. The eyes were glowing rubies and emeralds dotted the lines along the handle. The cutting edge of the sword was broad and curved in a flowing arc, from the handle to the tip and glinted in the dappled sunlight. It tapered to a paper thin edge that would cut through a man’s arm like butter.
The old lady dragged it across the dirt floor and pushed the handle into Gregory’s hand. “Take this. You will need it.”
Gregory took it, open amazement on his face. He gripped it as though he had fought with it from childhood. He weighed it in his hand, tipping the end upwards and testing the weight of the handle, the sword a true extension of his arm. He would make the blade dance if he wanted to. He looked like the true owner of such a fine sword, a magnificent swordsman.
A hunter.
The men outside the hut closed formation and surrounded them. Silent sentinels. “They have found us,” the old woman whispered.
Gregory positioned himself in front of the woman and Estelle, barring them from the entrance to the hut with the width of his body. Estelle stepped around him, shot him a heated glare and took position, sword drawn, shoulder to shoulder, ready for battle. She thought she heard a quiet snort behind her back, but she couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t the blood rushing through her ears.
The men did not move. Estelle’s nerves frayed and she gripped her sword handle tighter, repositioned her fighting stance, knees bent, feet shoulder width apart, muscles tensed. Her skin was heated, flushed. Still the men stood silently, grouped around the hut, human barricades. “Why aren’t they coming in?” she whispered.
There was a dark shadow at the entrance and a large figure blotted out the sunlight as he slowly entered the hovel. He had to stoop low. His clothes were as black as the men on the outside of the hut. On his head was a large ebony hat with a wide sweeping brim that hid his face. A feathery plume decorated the side.
Then he stood. Smiled. There was no humor, no laughter in that smile. It was no more a smile, as lips stretched over white, even teeth. The man’s steel grey eyes glinted in staggering animosity. Greed and hatred bored into her. It was a handsome face, a young face, belying his advanced years. But even so, a deep chill raced through Estelle’s insides, threatening to choke her. She knew the man, knew who had been tracking her down, knew who had been trying to kill her and end the life of all her crew. “Cutlass,” she hissed between clenched teeth and frigid lips. She was barely aware that Gregory said his name at the same time as she did.
“Away!” The old woman screeched so loudly that the hovel seemed to shake with her voice. Gun powder fumes clogged Estelle’s throat. Her eyes stung and she brought her hand to her face to try to keep the smoke from entering her mouth.
Estelle cracked open eyes and saw that the old woman and the hut were gone. Jack Cutlass still stood solidly in front of her, as did the silent men in a full circle around them. Only Jack seemed to be as affected by the wind as she was.
She had to take action. Once the wind settled, they would be trapped. She pounced from the ground, pushing from the balls of her feet. Her shoulder landed in Jack’s soft stomach. She heard the breath expel from his mouth and he collapsed to his knees. There was a flash of bright metal, and she glimpsed a golden skull as his sword fell to the ground.
“Run!” she yelled to Gregory. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he heard then darted into the dense bush, Gregory’s heavier steps at her heels. Branches lashed at her, stinging her skin and wanting to trip her, but she kept on her feet, losing herself further into the dense underbrush. She didn’t know how long she had run, only knew she had to stop when she couldn’t breathe and her legs had become too heavy to move. She gasped, coughing back air into her lungs. Gregory was next to her, bent over on one knee, catching his breath too.
As she recovered, she glimpsed her surroundings. Giant gums grew around them. Leaves sang a papery rustling song in the slight breeze. Estelle straightened, watching for shadows chasing them, but there were none. “I think we have out run them,” she gasped.
“Indeed.” Gregory also straightened, faced Estelle, pointed the tip of his sword to her throat. “How did Cutlass find us?” he demanded.
Chapter Ten
She pushed the blade away, eyes darkening and staggered to her feet. “I know as well as you,” she said, her voice strained and husky.
Her hair was tussled with the sudden whirlwind they had passed through. Autumn curls tumbled in wild abandonment over her shoulders. The thin sheen of perspiration covered her face. Her cheeks were flushed and when she faced him with intent in her eyes, the breath hitched in his throat. She looked just like he had imagined she might, sated and content after giving of herself.
An unfamiliar kick of disquiet touched his mind and brought him up short. He didn’t like the thought that she might have given herself to another, but he could assume a woman of her capacity would have in the past. She was no longer the virgin child he had seen, quietly sitting beside a glowing fire at her father’s side in the sitting room of his greatest mentor and friend.
She had been so quiet he had soon forgotten she had been there at all on many occasions. She was, after all, just a child then, a near grown girl not yet of age, but now before him stood the fully grown woman and he wondered with some amazement why he hadn’t looked more closely at her all those years ago. She had bloomed into a stunning woman that had the capability of setting his blood on fire and his mind wandering to areas he knew it shouldn’t, and yet he couldn’t stop the thoughts, or his unruly emotions from surfacing.
Yet he had to. This was no time to be thinking with his instinctual baser thoughts, and given the situation, he couldn’t make any sense why he should be tempted by her at all. He would have to reign himself with the tight control he had mastered after all his years at sea with the Navy. She was just a woman, no matter how this infatuation seemed to be growing. There was no room for one, especially this fiery Valkyrie, in his foreseeable future.
He’d been on the cusp of finding her father, when she had set all this in motion. Years of investigating all to waste and there was no more time to lose. She was the cause of all this madness. She also knew more than she told him. He had to know exactly what.
“You can’t sail the waters of the world without knowing of a criminal like Jack Cutlass. He has maimed and destroyed more Navy ships that others combined. How he does it is a mystery to us all. His ships are faster than the best ships I know of and he seems to melt from horizons in seconds. No one can outrun him. No one can catch him. He is wanted the world around by our allies and enemies. But he is one of your sort. Is that why I saw that flash of recognition in his eyes as he entered the old woman’s hut when he looked at you?”
“How dare you suggest I would sail with such a vile man.” Estelle’s eyes flashed. “I have rescued more women from him than any other ships. I daresay he recognizes me because I would be the first to have a knife at his throat in any chance I could get.”
“Tell the truth,” he demanded.
“Are you sure you want to hear the truth. I could tell you many things that are true, but you won’t believe a word I that comes out of my mouth. The world is a harsh place and so too is the truth.”
“I would like to hear your truth.”
“You still want me to tell you. I guess it does not matter that you believe me or not, as I know it is the whole truth. You want to hear why I would sail with a man like Cutlass or any other man in this world then you shall hear it, although you may wish you had never. Sara. The doctor aboard my sh
ip who tended you.”
Gregory nodded, remembering her unusual behavior towards him when he had held her wrist, far beyond that of reasonable surprise. “Go on.”
Estelle spoke, surprising him that she would disclose this secret to Gregory. It was as though some small region of her mind wanted him to know that she would never, could never be tied to a man like Cutlass. “It was from Cutlass’s ship that I rescued her from. She is a doctor’s daughter and she knows everything a doctor should know. When she was thrown out by her husband, Cutlass knew that too. He needed a doctor on board his ship, so he took her. No one cared where she was, and those that did couldn’t do anything about it. She was on board for weeks before I found her. She still hasn’t told me what she was subjected to, but no man has touched her since. You were the first and you saw how she reacted. It comes out in her nightmares at night.”
Estelle shivered. Her eyes grew distant and her voice low. “From what I can piece together, no living thing should have had to go through what Cutlass did to her.” She shook herself and settled her gaze back to him. “There are others on Paradise who would try and beat me to his neck and I could tell you a thousand more stories, each of them as atrocious as the rest. He is a vile man and one the world would be better off not having him in. I have been tracking him for years, and for years he has eluded me.”
Her brows lowered over glimmering eyes. By the firm set of her chin and tilt of her head he knew she was telling the truth. Anger that deep could not be hidden. Yet he still had to push, had to know that he could trust her while they were both stranded in a land neither knew and trust was an emotion hard won from her. He had to take her to the edge of anger so that she might see that they had to rely on each other.
It seemed as though they had a common goal and neither one could go on without the other. It was a realization that sat uncomfortably. He was used to being in charge, used to the one whose orders were followed, as she was, and as far as she was concerned, he was still her captive. He had to put her off balance, off guard, so that she would step down and work as a team while they were here. “Then how to do you explain his appearance at the old woman’s hut?”
Paradise Island Page 9
