by Ashley Nixon
“How will we stop this?” Barren said quietly.
“Any way we can,” Devon replied.
***
The next day, at dusk, they were called to the courtyard. The entire palace emptied and Barren watched as Elves made their way out of the forest dressed in white and gold robes, some carrying white lilies and others lanterns. They created a walkway, forming a line from the doors of the palace to a path in the forest. Barren and his crew felt out of place. They did not have nice clothes, and they had not been brought white robes. At first Barren had thought they had forgotten, but when he saw Leaf exit the palace doors, he was dressed as they were. In his arms he carried his father. The Elfin Lord was clad in white and gold robes. A heavy crown of gold and diamonds rested on his head. Though everything was crisp and bright, Barren could only see blood.
Behind them, Leaf’s mother walked. She carried her husband's sword in her hands. She, too, was dressed in white, and as she moved, her dress glittered with gold. A white veil covered her face, and a circlet of gold held it in place.
They moved like spirits down the lane and into the forest. The Elves then turned and followed. Barren and the others marched with them. As they moved under the canopy of the trees, the elves began to sing. Now and then their voices rose together, and the haunting melody made Barren’s skin ripple.
They continued to sing until they came upon a grove of willow trees that overlooked the sea. At the center of a grove, a marble pyre sat. Upon it was a bed of dry wood. Leaf was the only one who moved forward. He placed his father on the pyre, situated his hands and his hair gently, and kissed his brow. Then he stepped back and his mother moved forward, placing the king’s sword upon him, folding his hands over the hilt, and she kissed him.
She moved to stand beside her son, and for a moment, there was a pause, and Barren knew Leaf was preparing himself for this moment, the moment when his father would no longer be on this earth. The moment he would never see his physical form again.
Then he reached for one of the Elf’s lanterns, and with all his strength, he cast it at the pyre and it erupted into flames.
The fire burned fierce at first, cracking and popping. It made Barren flinch, but Leaf stood perfectly still, watching it consume his father. After a moment in silence, he began to sing. No one joined him, but his voice carried throughout the woods, and Barren knew that everyone, near and far, felt his sorrow.
***
After the funeral, there was a great dinner. Music played, and there was laughter, but Leaf and his mother were nowhere in sight. Just as Barren had thought to go in search of him, he entered the great hall. He had not changed, his clothes were those of the profession he swore to. The Elves grew quiet at his approach and they bowed. Leaf watched them for a moment before he spoke.
“Rise,” he said, and his eyes were still searching for something or someone. He saw Barren, and then he spoke. “War is upon us. War is upon our world. I do not speak simply of Aurum, but of Mariana, for if it falls, you fall, too,” he stepped toward them. “My father did many things right, and he was motivated to protect, but he was not always right. I know some among you believe that making war upon mortals is a solution. You hoped that by giving them weapons laced with dark magic, that they might destroy each other. Did you not consider that they might destroy you, too?” He let that question sit in the air as he walked among the Elves. They parted, and he made eye contact with those who would look at him. “And if mortals are so terrible, what are you? What traits did you believe separated you from humans? All I have witnessed is a people willing to kill for a chance to regain the past.”
He paused and then placed his hand over the ‘X’ on his chest. The Elves would know nothing of it, but Barren did. He was making a promise. “To those who still believe my father’s solution was best, if there are any of you left within this territory by morning, trust that I will find you all.”
He did not promise life and he did not promise execution.
Leaf left then, and Barren followed like a shadow. The Elf had come to a balcony which overlooked Aurum. He stood straight with one hand upon the rail. Barren took a deep breath and joined him. They did not speak for some time. They didn’t even look at each other.
“Do you blame me?” Barren asked at last.
“No,” he said.
“I’m sorry I did not save him.”
“It was not your place to save him,” said Leaf, and he met Barren’s eyes. “At least I can rejoice that Cove is alive.”
There was silence again. “Do you not intend to be a king to your people?”
“We have a lot to do beyond these boarders before I can be king of anything,” said Leaf. “We will come to war against magic. It has already begun. Datherious killed my father, and he has another piece of the King’s Gold. We cannot let him wield magic.”
Datherious was turning out just as his father and grandfather had, power hungry but somehow more capable.
“If he cannot find all the pieces, he cannot wield magic,” said Barren. “Em said there are five pieces to the King’s Gold. We can only account for four. That means the other one is still hidden.”
“So the question is, where would your father hide it?” asked Leaf.
“No,” said Barren. “The question is, how did your father find two of them?”
They stood together in silence, neither knowing that answer.
“What shall we do?” asked Leaf.
Barren looked at the Elf, stunned by his question. “You are a king asking for my advice.”
“I am a quartermaster asking for my captain’s guidance.”
Barren took in a breath. “I would wish to return to Silver Crest where my allies have gathered. Where friends of my father still live. Our only hope is to find the rest of the Relics before Datherious, before we must face the vacair in battle.”
There was silence between them, and after a moment Barren spoke. “I fear that I will not always be your ally,” he said. “I fear that this curse, it will use me for evil. I would wish that you, at least, were armed against me.”
“I could not kill you,” said Leaf. “Even at your worst, and you will not ask me to do it.”
“Is that a command, King?”
“It is a promise.
There was an explosion and Larkin woke with a start. Her heart beat erratically in her chest, and she rushed to her feet. There were no windows in her cell, but as the gunshots and screams sounded, she knew they were under attack. Another explosion shook them, and Larkin went to the door of her cell. Guards hurried past shouting orders. “We’re under attack! Call to arms!”
Then they were left alone unguarded as the commotion above continued. The other prisoners in the cells started to shout and clank things against their cell in hopes of escaping during the chaos. Larkin couldn’t deny that she had that hope, too.
In the cell opposite hers, there was a window, and a large man waited there, staring idly outside. After a moment, he began to whistle a tune. It was harsh and jagged; it made Larkin’s blood run cold. Then he laughed and turned, his eyes finding hers immediately.
“Someone’s a’coming for you,” he said.
Her first thoughts went to Barren, but she quickly pushed them aside. Barren would not come for her. She’d known that the moment she left. No, this attack was something different.
“They’ve broken the gate!” she heard someone cry, which meant they were in the castle now.
“Who’s coming?” she called to the man. “Who is it?”
But he only looked at her with a scornful smile.
Larkin scowled and turned from the bars. She hurried to the corner of her cell and began to pry a small section of the brick away where she’d managed to hide the makeshift shiv she’d been forming since she had been placed here by Natherious. The edges of the rock weren’t yet sharp enough, but it was still a weapon.
The door to the dungeon opened and voices rose in the hall.
“She’s in ‘ere, least th
at’s what he said!”
She recognized that speech, and suddenly she knew that the man in the cell across from her hadn’t been lying. They were looking for her. These were the men of Estrellas. She’d left an impression on more than one guard at the fugitive island, killing their leader, Cas, and wounding another. To make matters worse, she was the daughter of Lord Christopher Lee, the man who was partly responsible for their torture.
Larkin turned so her back was to the corner, holding tight to the makeshift weapon. She watched as two of the Estrellas guards walked into view. They were dressed in black, their faces masked. They had those strange long swords with the bent ends. She shivered. The two were almost past her cell when one stopped and swiveled toward her.
She tried not to breathe when she saw his face. He wasn’t wearing a mask like she’d thought, just a black leather helmet. The torture he’d experienced was clearly mapped on his face. Burns covered the right side, and knife marks the left. One of his eyes was missing, and when he smiled, deep scars made it seem endless.
“Well, well, well, so it is true. Christopher Lee’s daughter has found herself in a cell,” said one.
“Betcha don’t remember me,” the other sneered, but she would remember those yellow eyes anywhere. It was the Estrellas guard she’d stabbed through the hand just before Cas had found her. She’d known he’d wished her dead the moment he’d discovered who she was, and now he was here to see to it.
The man with no eye raised his hand. A set of keys clinked against each other as he twisted them around his finger. “Look what I got. Your freedom,” he said, and that strange smile deepened hideously.
He inserted the key into the lock, and the man with yellow eyes moved forward. He was the only one who advanced; she supposed the other felt this was his opportunity for revenge. He raised his blade. “I’m gonna stick you good, then hang you so your father will know my pain.”
He was upon her, blade raised to meet her neck. She watched it, unable to take her eyes off it. She could feel the magic rise within her. It was in her stomach and moved from there, through her veins. It was strangely a part of her just as much as her blood and skin.
“If you close your eyes,” he said. “It won’t hurt a bit.”
But she watched the blade, and when he went to move it forward, he found that the blade would not budge. He looked between her and the blade, and when he loosened his grip enough, she took over. Jamming her feet against his legs and shoving the rock into his face, she dragged her makeshift blade down. He screamed and wrenched away from her. His own blade clattered to the ground. She went for it and heard the words she’d dreaded to be called.
“Witch! Sea-witch!”
She ran the blade through the yellow-eyed prisoner and then pulled it from him harshly. He fell slack to the floor. The other Estrellas prisoner rushed forward, sword drawn. She blocked his initial blows, but he used his body to fight. He hit her face, and she fell back, blocking his next blow at the last second. She needed to get closer to the open door of her cell. It was the only way she might escape him.
The prisoner brought his blade down harder, and he hit her again. This time she fell to the floor. She rolled to miss a blow to her head and hurried to her feet in time to nick his arm. It was only enough to make him angry. He charged at her again, and each blow rattled her to the core. She knew he’d hit her when her arm started to burn, but she refused to look at it. She wouldn’t survive if she did.
The magic inside of her had a reaction to the pain, however, and as she went to strike a blow against the prisoner, a swirl of energy exploded from her hand and hit the man square in the chest. He was blown backward. He hit the floor and fell in a heap on the ground.
She was stunned for a moment, completely out of breath. She lowered her blade and looked at her hand. She marveled at how normal it appeared. It was her hand, calloused, but hers all the same.
“Sea-witch!” she heard someone say, and she whirled around. It was the man in the opposite cell.
“Sea-witch!” he called again, and the others in the prison began to join him. They chanted it over and over again. Their voices rose in a terrible rhythm. Just then, the one-eyed man stirred and awakened. He growled and started getting to his feet. She turned and hurried out of the cell. The prisoners’ haunting voices followed her as she made her way down the passage to the door.
She heard the one-eyed man bellow as he came after her, the girth of his body seeming to shake the dungeon.
“Little wench! I’ll teach you a lesson!”
As she ran, the passage curved and more cells were on either side of her. The people inside joined in the chant and reached for her. She lashed at them with her blade and some fell away, but the chanting continued.
She came to the door. It was ajar. She hurried through and then turned to pull the heavy door shut behind her, but she wasn’t fast enough. The guard wrenched the door open and she stumbled back, raising her blade prepared to fight.
The man fought hard and fast. He lashed out at her with his blade. There was nothing graceful about it. He wanted blood. She fought against him, her arms shaking from exhaustion and ringing from blocking heavy blows. Then there came a point where she couldn’t hold onto the hilt of her blade anymore and with one heavy blow, it slipped from her hands. The guard hit her again, and she fell to the floor. Larkin spun, reaching for her blade, the only defense she had against this man.
His heavy footfalls sounded, and his boot met viciously with her hand. She screamed, and he stepped harder. There was only pain. Pain and magic. Why did the magic only come with pain?
He brought his blade over his head, and she reached out, her other hand spread wide. She could feel the energy gathering there, but it was weak. As his weapon came down, a blade exploded through the man’s chest, sending blood splattering across her face. She covered her head as the one-eyed guard dropped his sword. It clattered to the ground and he fell to his knees. She scurried out of the way, and he hit the stone with a hard thud.
Behind the fallen man, Natherious stood. For a moment she lay stunned, wondering if this was him just defending his castle, if he would take her prisoner as he had before. When he reached forward, it was all the confirmation she needed. She wrenched away from him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “And if you delay, you’re not getting out of here. Come on!”
He took her arm and pulled her up the stairs to the first level of the castle. He paused at the door, peering down the halls before moving forward again, keeping to the shadow. Now and then they would stop when footfalls drew near. The sound of gunfire and clashing blades continued in the background. Screams and howls accompanied the symphony of the battle.
She held her left hand to her chest, the pain reverberating through her entire body, and even her teeth ached. She had no idea how this would heal. And if it did, her hand would never be the same again.
“Who are they?” she asked as she followed Natherious.
“These men who have attacked are from Estrellas,” he said.
“Did they escape?”
“I do not believe they escaped on their own,” he said.
“What do you believe?”
He paused and looked at her. “Only the strongest survive in Estrellas. Those men were made to be weapons.”
He turned and continued.
Cove had said Estrellas was made in the hopes that the men would destroy each other, but instead they’d united around a single purpose, the hope of destroying those who had put them there. So who had they found as their savior? She could only think of one man—Datherious.
They were in the west wing at the moment and from here the ocean could be viewed from any window. Once, not too long ago, the Cliffs could also be seen from here, but they had all been destroyed. She peered out now as they passed each open window, streaming with moonlight. There were ships upon the horizon, dark ships with sails that seemed to sprout out of the ocean like blades. How could she hope for escape w
hen their shore looked like that?
Finally, Natherious ushered her into a room. It was dark, but moonlight poured in from the window, and she could see that it was a sitting room. He moved her to the back of the room toward a large bookcase. “You’ll take this passage here,” he said. At first she saw nothing but a wall, but Natherious managed to pry open a seamless door which revealed a dark and narrow passage. “It leads upstairs to the second floor, right into my father’s study. He will be there. He’s locked himself up with his madness. I know you’ve heard that my father has a piece of the King’s Gold. Lord Alder gave it to him, but my father is mortal, and the gold bears the curse of madness. I don’t care how you’ll do it, but get that piece from around his neck and run. Get on a ship and don’t look back.”
Larkin stared at him pointedly. “How long?”
It was more of an accusation, but she was also angry. Natherious was one of two brothers who had caused Barren and his crew much toil and strife, and suddenly he was acting more friend than foe.
“How long have you been on our side?”
“Always,” he breathed. “Now go!”
He pushed her toward the passage and into the darkness she stumbled. “Wait,” she whirled around. “What will you do?”
“I still have a part to play until I am called elsewhere.”
He pushed a sword into her hand and she took it, then he closed the door on her. She turned and faced the darkness. She felt around for a moment, found the first step and then another. Her confidence rising, she moved up the steps fairly quickly until suddenly she lost her footing. She gave out a cry as she caught herself with her injured hand. Her sword clattered down the stairs, and she followed.
She sat in pain for a long moment before standing and grasping her sword once more. Exhausted, she moved up the steps again, slower this time.