Wielder's Prize

by Elle Cardy

  Brusan looked around, at the tall cliffs that sat in brooding silence over them, at the narrow road that offered little shelter and no food. “Where would I go?”

  “You don’t have to stay at the cove. You could return with Petya to that village you mentioned.”

  “Not without you.”

  “Let me go.”

  “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “Do you?” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice. She wasn’t successful.

  Brusan wiped his hands down his shirt as if he wore an apron. “I may not understand the wielder side of things, but I know when a man wants to kill another. The look I saw in Kahld’s eyes when he…” Brusan swallowed. “He wants you dead. More than anything else.”

  “And he’ll want you dead for betraying him.”

  She thought his anger would flare, but she saw only pain in his expression.

  “I deserve nothing less,” he said in a quiet voice.

  She frowned up at him. “Don’t be stupid.” She had never heard anything more ridiculous. As much as she had hated him for taking her away from the Prize, she had to admit that he had saved her. She had frozen in front of Kahld. She had not been able to protect herself. If Brusan hadn’t taken her away, she probably wouldn’t have survived.

  “Why?” she said when he made no further response. “Why do you think you deserve to die?” Still he didn’t reply. “Because you chose to protect me over obeying your captain?”

  His eyes widened. “Bilge rot. I’d make the same choice. You mightn’t believe me, but you’re everything to me.”

  Jasmine stared at Brusan’s expression. She couldn’t stop staring at it. It was open and earnest. He believed he spoke the truth. She shook her head and took a step away. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.” She knew it hurt him to hear those words, but she couldn’t accept his claim. If she was everything to him, he wouldn’t have beaten her all those years. If she was everything to him, he would’ve been a better father. No, she couldn’t believe him.

  Brusan wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “You gotta know you’ve mixed yourself up in dangerous business. What’d you hope to gain?”

  She thought of her ship, the Wielder’s Prize. She closed her eyes and pictured the vast blue seas surrounding her in all directions. She felt the caress of the salt breeze against her face. The surge of the waves sighed beneath her feet.

  “Everything,” she said when she opened her eyes again.

  “You want to return to the Prize.” Brusan shook his head in confusion. “You can’t go back. You can’t never go back.”

  “I can and I will.” She pulled away from Brusan and strode toward the others at the wagon.

  “You’re mad, Jasmine,” he said to her retreating back.

  She stopped and turned on her heels. “All I want is my ship. That’s not too much to ask.”

  “It’s not your ship. We can find passage on another. We can leave this madness. You can walk away from whatever it is those wielders want from you.”

  She hadn’t even considered why Marcelo and Aurelius wanted her. She had been so focused on getting her ship back. Aurelius could sense her power. He already commented on how much she used it. Maybe he knew she was untrained. Maybe he was taking her to Marcelo to deal with her as all Guardians dealt with untrained, untalismaned wielders. Maybe she was mad. The thought of never returning to the Prize was unbearable. Unimaginable. The need to return was an ache that burned inside her gut.

  “I can’t walk away,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  Brusan’s shoulders slumped.

  When she joined Aurelius he offered her another portion of bread. She gratefully took it. He picked a piece of straw out of her hair. “Have you sorted things with your father?”

  “Aye.”

  He nodded. “We don’t have much time left. We have to get going.”

  They traveled for another two days before they reached the other side of the pass. It was rough travel with the ground slippery with ice and the air heavy with frost. Jasmine had long forgotten what it was like to be warm.

  Petya stopped the wagon and pointed into the distance. “There, below.”

  The cliffs dropped to a deep, yet narrow cove below. The cove was well sheltered and the waters were a vibrant blue swirl. The remarkable sapphire shade made Jasmine wonder what it would look like when the sun came out. From their perch, she could see out to sea. The waters darkened the further she peered. They became a steely gray expanse to the east. No ships were in view. Her heart sank.

  Patience, Jasmine. You have to be patient. And watchful, she thought to herself. Brusan’s words had reminded her she’d have to be careful in case this was some elaborate trap. Finn had told her she couldn’t trust the Guardians. From her experience with Angelica, she knew he was right.

  Petya whistled to his beasts and they started their slow gait again. The moment they began their descent, a feeling of danger welled up inside her. It was almost a tangible thing that rang clarion bells in the back of her head. She gasped and clung to the cart’s side. It took every reserve of willpower not to flee.

  Brusan had heard her gasp and watched her pale. “Midge?”

  She tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

  Aurelius looked over his shoulder and frowned. “Why are you wielding? What’s wrong?”

  Jasmine closed her eyes. She forced herself to take slow breaths. “Nothing’s wrong. Just afraid of heights.”

  “You have nothing to fear. Petya knows this track well and assures me we’ll reach my master by nightfall.”

  When Aurelius seemed satisfied his advice had helped, he turned back around. She flicked her gaze to Brusan. He brooded in silence. He knew she had lied. She had no fear of heights. She was more at home in the rigging of the Prize than any man.

  Brusan leaned forward and said in a low voice, “One day you’ll need help from someone but they won’t help you because they won’t trust you. Think about that the next time you lie.”

  She looked away. He didn’t know what he was talking about. Her whole life was a lie. What was one more? Or two? Or three?

  The sense of danger shimmered on the edges of her consciousness. Her mouth went dry. Refusing to acknowledge the fear, she buried it and thought instead about her Prize. She may not know what waited for her in Sapphire Cove, but she did know her ship would come. And then she could at last go home.

  Chapter 27

  True to Petya’s word, they reached the cove by sundown. The sun sank behind the surrounding cliffs and lit the clouds with an orange flame. The whole sky had set itself on fire. Everything in the cove glowed with the eerie light.

  Petya stopped his beasts before the road ended. The ground had become soft with sand and the cart could go no further. Without saying a word he pulled out a small wooden box that had been hidden under his seat. It was a simple box with no adornment and he took care to carry it upright. He left the cart where it stopped and strode off toward what looked like a garden growing against the southern cliff. It was only then Jasmine noticed an outcrop of rock near the garden and a shanty style hut leaning there. The small hut looked like it would collapse at the merest breeze. Gardening tools hung against its side and a fishing net hung from a hook.

  In the glassless window, a curtain made from a fraying piece of old sackcloth moved to the side. Jasmine tried to peer inside but the shadows were too deep.

  “You’re here at last!” a voice cried in delight. After a rattle and a crash, an old man appeared around the side of the hut. He had a shock of white hair that reminded Jasmine of sea anemones shifting in an ocean current. His face was cleanly shaven and though he smiled, his features sagged with age, yet his movements were that of a young man. He waved at his visitors and he clapped Petya on the back when the driver reached him.

  Petya gave him the box he had carried so carefully. The old man opened t
he lid and looked in. His smile broadened and he clapped Petya on the back again.

  “Good man!” He disappeared into the hut and when he came out again, he carried with him a bottle of liquor. It was pale blue and Jasmine recognized it as gralla, an expensive drink produced in Auslim, the sister city to Auslam in the north. The old man handed the bottle to Petya who took his hat off and bowed in gratitude.

  “Who is that?” Jasmine whispered to Aurelius. “And what was that about?”

  “That’s Marcelo. I assume the box carries spices. He loves his spices.”

  This was the infamous Marcelo? Finn’s trainer? Highly regarded within the Guardians? She had expected someone more austere. Someone taller. This grandfatherly type of man didn’t fit her mental image. She peered at him in the fading light. She wondered why she couldn’t see or feel his power. She remembered again the sense of danger she felt when they had approached the cove. Although she didn’t feel it now, she couldn’t let her guard down.

  Marcelo turned his attention to the others. “Come, come. Welcome. Make yourselves at home.”

  Jasmine hopped off the cart and felt the cold soft sand between her toes. She glanced again at the shabby hut and didn’t like the thought of sleeping inside. Maybe that was the source of the danger, she thought with a laugh. Maybe the hut was ready to collapse. If it weren’t so cold, she’d consider sleeping outside.

  “I bid ye farewell,” Petya said and put his misshapen hat back on.

  “You aren’t staying?” Marcelo said. “I have clam soup on the boil.”

  “Nay.” He glanced at Brusan. “Coming?”

  Jasmine, surprised that he had known enough to ask, shot a look at Brusan. The man was studying her. He sighed. “Nay, I’ll be staying here.”

  Petya didn’t waste time. He returned to his cart and whistled his beasts into action. They didn’t protest or argue. They ambled forward and soon disappeared up the narrow trail.

  “Come, come,” Marcelo said again and ushered them into his dwelling.

  Just like the man, his dwelling was full of surprises. For starters it was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. It was an extension of a deep cave in the cliff wall. Frayed woolen rugs covered the floors, books and parchments littered every free space, and wooden crates of supplies were stacked in the back. In the center of the cave burned a welcoming fire. An iron pot hung from a tripod over the heat. The aromas of seafood chowder filled the room and gave the dwelling a homey feel.

  “You must be hungry.” Marcelo set about scooping soup into wooden bowls.

  Jasmine thought the fire would make the room smoky until she spied a blackened natural vent above them that carried the smoke outside. She moved closer to the fire to warm herself and Marcelo shoved a bowl into her hands.

  Their fingers touched for the briefest of moments. Jasmine’s world tilted sideways. Power swirled around her. It wasn’t her power but Marcelo’s. It was a torrent that coursed through her. It searched and plucked and pulled. She felt her secrets falling away without an uttered word. She had to protect herself.

  She didn’t know when she dropped the bowl, or when she fell to her knees. She only knew when the storm stopped. She stared at her shaking hands and felt Brusan’s arms around her.

  “Midge, are you all right? What happened?”

  “Oh my,” Marcelo said.

  Even Aurelius fussed around her. “Why did you wield?”

  She wielded? She couldn’t respond at first and allowed Brusan to help her to her feet. Her stomach roiled and her legs gave out. Brusan caught her before she fell and lifted her into his arms as if she were a small child.

  “Where?” he barked.

  Marcelo gave a start and pointed to a low pallet behind the fire. Brusan gently laid her head on the pillow. The room shifted and churned. She covered her face with her hands and curled into a ball.

  “Step aside,” Marcelo said. “Let me take a look at her.”

  Brusan grunted and moved away. Marcelo’s cool touch pulled her hands away from her face. “Open your eyes, Midge. Let me see them.” She tried to roll away from him but he was insistent.

  “What did you do to me?” she asked as she fought him.

  “I did nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  “I did nothing you should have felt.”

  She opened her eyes and looked at him.

  “Hmm.” Without sharing his thoughts, he let her go and turned to Brusan. “The journey has taken a lot out of your daughter. She needs to rest. She will feel stronger by the morning. Aurelius! Clean up that mess.” He sighed. “Such a terrible waste of good food.”

  They moved away and spoke in low voices on the other side of the fire. She wanted to join them, to question Marcelo, to find out what had happened. A terrible weakness burned through her. It was similar to the weakness she’d felt on the Seahawk but more powerful. It claimed every crumb of her strength. She fell into a dreamless sleep.

  *

  Jasmine woke just before dawn. She didn’t know how she knew the hour because she couldn’t see the sky from where she lay. She just knew. The weakness had passed. In its place was hunger. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate a decent meal. It felt like a decade ago. The fire still burned in the center of the cave and she wondered if there was any soup left in the pot.

  She sat up and looked around. Brusan snored on a pallet close to her. He was too tall for his bed and his feet dangled off the edge. She spied a man-shaped lump in the hut section and guessed from the size it was Aurelius. If he snored, she couldn’t hear it above the crackle of the fire. She looked in the direction she thought Marcelo’s bed might be — a deep bench covered in blankets where the most number of books were strewn around. The bed was empty.

  Marcelo’s short shadow ambled around the fire and approached her. He handed her a bowl. “Try not to drop this one.”

  She was too hungry to argue and took the bowl from him, careful not to touch him. She spooned the soup into her mouth and tasted a world of pleasure in the fresh ingredients, the root vegetables and the hint of spices. She was so used to the ship’s gruel that she’d forgotten what real food tasted like.

  “Slow down,” Marcelo said.

  She ignored him, refusing to even look at him.

  “May I?” he asked, indicating the end of the pallet. He didn’t wait for her to give him permission. He sat beside her and waited for her to finish her food. When she was done, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and handed him the empty bowl.

  “More?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  He handed back the bowl. “You know where you can get it.”

  She hid a smile and padded across to the fire. Brusan still snored and Aurelius stirred under his blankets to turn around in his sleep. She filled the bowl and looked for somewhere else to sit. There was nowhere that didn’t have books or papers strewn over it so she returned to the pallet and Marcelo. She hunkered down over her food and ate in silence.

  “I need you to help me with something,” Marcelo said while she ate.

  She pretended she didn’t hear him and kept eating.

  “I need you to help me kill Captain Kahld.”

  She almost choked on her food. She stifled a cough and glanced at Brusan. His snoring stopped. She held her breath. His reaction to such a request couldn’t be good. He loved his captain. Betraying Kahld didn’t mean Brusan would allow anyone to kill him.

  Eventually his slow snore started up again and she relaxed. She stole a glance at Marcelo. He was watching her. His expression was passive as if all he asked of her was to make him some bread.

  “What did you do to me last night?” she asked, remembering again the intensity of his power as it washed through her.

  “Peace now,” Marcelo said as if he tried to calm a dangerous beast. “There’s no need to wield. I promise never to do it again.”

  “I’m not —” she stopped herself before sh
e confessed to a Guardian that she didn’t know when she wielded most of the time. She took a breath. “What did you do?”

  “I merely wanted to see the level of your power. It’s an old habit of mine. You weren’t meant to feel it.”

  “I did feel it and it made me sick.”

  “That wasn’t me. That was you. Your natural instinct to protect yourself is really quite strong. And impressive.” He stared at the fire with a distant look that made her think he wasn’t seeing it. He blinked and turned back to her with a smile. “You need to be more careful. I can’t have you over extending yourself before the captain gets here.”

  “I can’t do what you’re asking,” she said. “As soon as the captain gets here, I’ll be leaving.”

  “You won’t be able to.” The firelight flickered against his face, deepening his lines. It revealed none of his thoughts. “Do you really want to hide forever? Besides, the sooner you do this for me, the sooner you can return to your ship.”

  “How do you know I want to return to the Prize?” How did he know she could hide? Or was he just speaking figuratively?

  Marcelo chuckled. “It’s written all over you.”

  She scowled at him. As much as she wanted to go home, if this was the cost then the price was too high. She had no reason to kill a man or to help someone else kill a man. Either way, it was killing and she wanted no part of it. All she wanted was to live in peace on the Prize. There had to be another way.

  When she didn’t say anything, Marcelo sighed. “You know the captain is a dangerous man. You saw for yourself how he killed those people from the Wild Rose.” He sat back as if in remembrance. “He killed my Angelica. I warned her not to interfere but she was always headstrong.”

  The sense of danger returned to Jasmine like a wall crashed down on her. It threatened to suffocate her but there seemed no escape. “How do you know all this?” She should flee. She should disappear. She didn’t move.

  “You know he is uncontrollable,” he went on, ignoring her question. “He will get everything he desires. And he desires a lot.”