by Chanda Hahn
My ears tuned in like a bat listening for every creak of a floorboard or sound of him moving about the room. I prayed he would stay on that side of the room, that he would not come closer, but at the same time wishing it, desiring it. I wanted him to call me on my bluff.
I heard the rustle of blankets as he crawled into his soft bed, and the room went dark as he extinguished the light.
A sigh escaped my lips, and I now waited for him to fall asleep. I hadn’t expected him to sleep with the windows open. The night air crept in, and my clothes were still damp in some areas. It was a battle of wills when I became so cold my teeth chattered.
“Only a foolish person would sleep in wet clothes,” Brennon spoke up. “We are both men. You can hang them out to dry.” He sounded irritable. Probably because I disturbed his sleep.
“Only a foolish person would sleep with the windows open,” I snapped back.
“I like the breeze across my skin.” His voice was husky.
I closed my eyes and tried not to imagine what he was saying. Instead, I put my finger between my teeth and used it to keep my teeth from clacking together.
Brennon sighed. “But I also value my sleep, and you’re keeping me awake.” The floor creaked, and I stilled, listening as I heard him move about.
He threw a quilt at my feet, and I grabbed it and wrapped it around me like a greedy child, even covering my head so that if my hat came off in my sleep, I would have another layer of protection.
Brennon retreated to his bed, and I heard his groan as he slipped back into his covers. I focused on his breathing and waited.
After a few candle marks, I heard his breathing deepen, and I knew it was time. Carefully, I grabbed my boots and tiptoed toward the door. When the floor creaked, I stilled, waiting for Brennon to catch me. When I didn’t hear a change, I continued to the door and opened it with only the slightest whisper. Then I tiptoed out and closed it with the softest click. As I headed out of the cabin, I noticed a thick fog had rolled in and worried about sailing in the murkiness. I glanced to the helm and saw an unfamiliar crew member working the wheel. He didn’t seem to even notice me. I made my way toward the steps to go below, but a haunting melody caught my attention.
I followed the music to spy Vasili standing at the side of the ship, playing his flute. Magic crackled in the air, and I longed for that connection. But it was the second person standing next to Vasili that gave me pause. It was a figure made of water standing on the ocean side of the railing. Vasili spoke, and the form took the shape of a woman, her hair watery waves down her back. She reached out her liquid hands to him, her mouth opening to speak, but no words came forth.
Vasili spoke, and she nodded, her hands beckoning and pointing to the ocean.
The boot dropped from my grasp, and both heads turned to stare at me. When Vasili stopped playing, the woman opened her mouth to cry out, and she dissolved into a wave that splashed across the deck.
Vasili’s face soured. He stormed off, brushing past me roughly to head up the stairs to the back of the ship.
I stood out on deck, staring at the puddle of water that now soaked my feet, and wondered. What kind of magic did I witness? And who was that mysterious woman?
Chapter Nine
“Wake up!” Howland hissed in my ear. My hammock swayed gently as he shook my shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. My eyes felt gritty from the salt air and struggled to focus on Howland.
“Everything! What did ye do to the captain?” he accused.
“Nothing,” I answered.
“Well, he is verbally tearin’ into Crowley, and the man’s practically a saint. The captain was perfectly fine until he went to bed last night.”
“Maybe he just ate something that disagreed with him,” I snapped.
Howland’s old face crumpled at the insult to his cooking. He shrugged it off and shook his head. “The last time I saw him this mad was the day he cuffed Caleb and sent him runnin’.”
I quietly counted back the days and remembered that was the day I eluded him during his valiant rescue attempt.
I uttered a silent curse and wondered how I could avoid the coming beating. I disobeyed a direct order and snuck out in the middle of the night. Although, I couldn’t hold back the smile that I had gained the upper hand.
“Wipe that smile off yer face,” Howland warned. “We’ve set anchor. And ye slept through it.”
“A-anchor,” I stuttered, suddenly afraid. “I thought we would be at sea much longer. Are we back at Fairehaven?” I tried to remember where the sun was and wondered if we turned around. I crawled out of the hammock and adjusted my hat. All the hammocks were empty. I somehow slept through the crew rising for the day and walking past me.
“No, it be an island.”
“An island? Why? Which island?”
“Maybe if ye make it above deck for the announcements, ya’d know what’s goin’ on.” He took off his own knit hat and swatted me on the shoulder playfully.
I dashed up the stairs hand over hand, racing to the railing to take in the island in front of me. We were still hundreds of yards away, and the men were lowering the longboat to go ashore.
The island was a green utopia upon white sands that stretched for miles. We were anchored in an aquamarine-colored lagoon. Black specks flitted in the air high above the trees, and I wondered what birds and animals occupied the island. Suddenly, I badly wanted to go on land.
But I knew I might’ve blown my chances by angering Brennon.
A whistle pierced the air, and the crew gathered around. Brennon stood at the upper deck. He was in full captain’s apparel. Gray pants, covered in a long navy-blue jacket with gold trim and gold buttons. His hand rested on his cutlass at his hip. His face was an unreadable mask. His hawk-like gaze searched the crowd for me, and I shrank, ducking behind Jessup. Terrified of what might happen if I met his cold blue eyes.
That’s when I read the emotions of the crew. They weren’t excited like I was; many averted their gaze, shuffled their feet, and some looked downright uncomfortable. Jessup moved to the left, and my shield disappeared.
I knew when Brennon saw me. His shoulders stiffened. His lip curled up in a wicked smile, and I knew he planned to punish me.
He cleared his throat. “Men, we have dropped anchor near one the forbidden isles.”
A collective murmur of disapproval moved through the crowd. Their unease became even more evident. Many swore, and I heard their anger and whispers of dissent.
“Which island exactly?” Crowley asked.
Brennon hesitated. “It’s her island.”
The murmur became louder. “It is said that any man who steps foot ashore that place will be cursed,” Conroy added.
“He’s mad,” Jessup said.
“We’re all going to die!” Adair cried out.
“Silence!” Brennon roared. “Most of you will stay on the ship. I will only take the bravest of you inland.”
“It is not safe to stay in these waters!” Jessup yelled. “The waters run with the blood of those who have never stepped off that island.”
“We have been guaranteed safe passage.”
“By who?” Conroy called.
“By me,” Vasili’s voice rang out across the boat. He had been watching the entire affair from the bow of the ship and walked up and placed a ringed hand on Brennon’s shoulder.
He plucked a ring with a ruby the size of a grape from his pinky finger and held it aloft for the men to see. “This ring is the queen of the Undersea’s signet ring. By right, it should grant us safe passage.”
Barley raised his hand. “I heard tales that there are seven rare treasures on the island.”
Vasili shrugged. “We hope so. I can’t guarantee what we will find.”
The crew, once hesitant, now became filled with lust at the promise of treasure.
“Now, I ask you once again. Who will go with us to the island?” Brennon asked.
A roar of affirmative answe
rs was his reply. Men clamored, jumping up and down and waving their hats; a few even tried to make a run for the lowered longboat.
“Wait!” Brennon roared, upset by how fast his men changed their tune. “I will remind you that this is a dangerous island and that not all of you can go ashore.”
“I will go!” Rothbart called.
“No, I will,” Swiftly answered.
“Me!” Jessup jumped up and down.
Howland shook his head in disappointment and waddled back toward the steps below.
“Do you not want to go?” I asked him.
Howland pointed at the beautiful floating oasis. “There’s nothin’ on that island but death.”
“Do you mean the island is dangerous?”
“It’s not the island itself ye need to worry about,” he warned, “but the sea witch who lives on it.”
The longboat bobbed against the hull of the ship as the captain organized the offshore party. Brennon ordered Fang and Thorn to stay on board, which I found odd. Many of the same men who only a full candle mark ago cried outrage at going ashore were eagerly climbing down the rope ladder. They lowered a trunk filled with supplies followed by an armory of weapons.
When they were almost loaded to go, Brennon and Vasili were the only two left on the deck, and I could see the worry upon their brows.
“Are you sure the answer is on the island?” Brennon asked. He buckled a bandolier with knives over his shirt and adjusted his cutlass to rest over his left hip.
“I made contact last night with the sea witch. She says she can help.” Vasili’s eyes glowed with excitement. His dark hair hung long and unbraided, the wind toying with it.
I had to wonder if that was what I witnessed last night—Vasili communicating with the sea witch.
“But those answers have a price, and I only hope this is enough to pay for it.” He held up the ruby ring. “She seemed eager for our arrival.”
“That makes me wary.”
“I know. But we are running out of time, my friend. She says she has vital information on what we seek. Or would you rather agree to the en—”
“Stop!” Brennon waved his hand. “I understand. But that is my sacrifice. Not yours.”
“Thank you, my friend.” Vasili squeezed Brennon’s shoulder. “I know what this will cost you.”
“Only if we don’t find what we’re looking for. It hasn’t come to that yet.”
Brennon’s grip tightened on his sword, and his gaze flickered over to me. He stormed across the deck to confront me.
“Where did you disappear last night?” he whispered heatedly.
“I went back to my hammock,” I snapped.
“When I gave you a direct order? Disobeying your captain is punishable by a lashing. You work on my ship. You obey my rules.”
“But what if those rules make little sense?” I challenged.
His lips pressed together, and he stepped closer, his face leaning down to where we were now eye level. “I couldn't care less if they make sense. If I told you to walk across burning coals, jump overboard, or even sleep in a perfectly comfortable room, then you better well obey. Or I can find an even less comfortable place for you to reside for the rest of the voyage. The brig.” His nostrils flared, and I could feel his anger roll across my body. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said meekly.
“I can’t hear you!”
“Yes, Captain,” I retorted.
“And stay in my quarters until I get back. In fact, don’t come out onto the deck for any reason at all. Even to help Howland.” He turned to leave.
“B-but—” I protested.
Brennon spun around. “Already, you’re questioning my authority.”
I bit my tongue and looked out across the water toward the island. Being trapped inside all day while being anchored with no wind seemed like a severe punishment.
I nodded.
“Good.” Brennon pulled me forward and pointed at the bow where Fang was visibly kicking a crate. “And stay out of Fang’s sight.”
Brennon didn’t need to warn me a second time. With a final stone-faced glare, he pushed me toward his quarters and flung his cloak around his shoulders, securing it before disappearing down the ladder.
Vasili watched the entire exchange, and he pursed his lips at me in thought. “Interesting.”
From the captain’s doorway, I watched Vasili leap over the railing and heard him land in the boat below, surprising the crew. They cast off, and the longboat rowed toward the island. I sighed, closed the door, and began my punishment of waiting.
It didn’t take me long to straighten up Brennon’s room, since he hardly ever used the room except for sleeping. I rolled up the bedroll and tucked it away in one of the built-in cupboards, since I had no intention of sleeping anywhere near him. No matter how many lashings he threatened me with.
Half a candle mark later, I finished and sat in his chair, drumming my fingers across the oak table. Feeling extremely closed in, I pushed open the windows and went out a side door onto the captain’s private balcony. It was small, and because of the way the ship was anchored, I could only see the island from the starboard side. It was here I sat with my knees pulled up and watched the boat, now a speck in the lagoon, row up to the sandy beach.
Even from this distance, I could make out Vasili’s dark hair and Brennon’s sun-kissed blond. Dark and light, opposite sides of a coin. They headed together up the beach and into the densely populated island.
Hidden by the landing above me and knowing the crew had all disappeared inland, I took off my hat and let my hair fall to my shoulders. I hummed softly under my breath and ran my fingers through my red locks like a comb to try to break apart a few of my tangles, unaware that my singing was attracting attention from below. I heard a whistle in return.
Startled, I quickly tucked my hair up, looked over the balcony, and blinked in awe as a school of undines dancing in the sea’s foam. I had only ever read about the water elementals but had never seen them in person. They were blue, no bigger than my palm and sang in perfect harmony.
“Stop that dang racket!” a disgruntled Fang cried out. Tossing a bottle from the upper deck into the ocean, he scattered the undines. I pressed myself against the back wall as I waited to see if he would peer over the upper deck.
“Dang witch,” he murmured. “Sending her minions to taunt us.”
I snickered and wondered what he would think if he knew that a sorceress was onboard with him. He was too close, so I crept back toward the door and spent my day either watching the island or napping on Brennon’s bed.
Being this close to shore, a few of the crew went out in the skiff early in the morning and set out crab traps. By sundown, they brought in full traps. I felt guilty for leaving Howland to prepare the food all by himself, but I dared not go against Brennon’s orders and leave the room. I worried about Vasili and Brennon when they did not return by sundown and spent the early evening on the captain’s balcony, watching the shoreline.
The fresh crab lifted the spirits, and those who remained brought out their instruments and played. This was a nightly tradition and one I had grown fond of, since I loved music. Except for tonight. There was an odd feeling in the air, a heaviness that permeated everywhere, especially when an overlaying fog rolled in. The others must have felt the same wariness, for once the fog came, the music stopped.
My stomach growled in protest at being forced to stay in solitary confinement, which meant I hadn’t grabbed my rations for the day, and I wasn’t on deck when the crab was grilled over the fireboxes and distributed. I was not one to miss meals, and therefore my temper was rising and my fuse was very short.
Feeling vindictive, I raided Brennon’s stores, opening up his trunks to where I had seen he had his saved rations. In a fit of anger. I decided I would revenge eat through his food. I poured myself a cup of his best wine. After a sip, I decided it was not meant for me. Instead, I took it and dumped it out the window. All
drinks on the ship were wine, rum, or mead, for fresh water went stale fast.
I found a sweet dessert cake in a tin, ate all of it, and put the tin back in the cupboard, leaving not a single crumb. With a full stomach, I crawled onto Brennon’s bed, leaving the heavy drapes pulled back and the window and door to the balcony open to the island. Tucking my hand under my head, I waited eagerly for the sound of oars on the water, Brennon’s booming voice commanding the rowers, or the boarding party.
Those sounds never came.
In the middle of the night, something cold brushed across my cheek, and I gasped. Sitting up in a tangle of blankets, I slapped and punched the air and met nothing. The room was black, the cabin door still locked from inside.
Gently, I touched my cheek and felt cold water drip down my skin. I lit the bedside lantern, held it up in the air, and almost cried out in fear, for a set of wet footprints trailed from the balcony to my bed and then back out.
I grabbed a blanket off the bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and followed the wet trail out the balcony door, where it disappeared over the side into the sea and to where I only assumed it came from—the sea witch’s island.
Chapter Ten
By the second day, I became impatient. Surely, Brennon did not mean to keep me locked up here permanently? What if he didn’t return? I would have to leave eventually for food.
The floor in front of the balcony windows would probably have a permanent wear pattern from my pacing feet. My stomach betrayed me, and it growled in hunger. I had already eaten through Brennon’s lovely rations yesterday, and there wasn’t anything left in his room.
To try to take my mind off my hunger, I dug through his trunks again and searched for the book on the Undersea. It seemed to have changed since the last time I held it. It was a deeper hue, and the colors were more vibrant. I opened the pages and stared at the swirls and whorls and shapes that made up the dead language.