Dance of a Burning Sea

by Mellow, E. J.

  Niya’s blood ran cold.

  “Do you think . . . ?”

  “Yes,” said Alōs, stepping deeper inside. “These are all who have died here. It appears we’ve found the chief’s trophy room.”

  As if she were tranced by the gore, Niya walked the rows, a buzz filling her ears. Creatures of all kinds filled the cases, not just humans, and on some she began to take note of a difference on a few of their plaques. “What do you think this symbol means?” She pointed to a cluster of stars stamped on the metal nameplates. These stuffed trophies, compared to all the others, were always situated at the front, as though they were the jewels of the collection.

  “I think”—Alōs came to her side, studying the hollow eyes of a woman whose arms were raised up, as though she were pushing out something from within—“that means they were gifted.”

  Niya blinked. “What? With magic?”

  He nodded. “It appears they are their favorites to eat.”

  Niya backed away, her throat growing tight. “We have to get out of here.”

  But as she turned into the next row, a rumbling growl vibrated the stone at her feet.

  Niya froze.

  If it weren’t for the gently swooshing tail, Niya would have thought it was another stuffed trophy.

  A large feline lay curled by a lit fireplace a stone’s throw away. Its head rested on thick paws while its slit hazel eyes stared straight at them.

  Niya was seized with cold panic, just as her nose instantly began to itch. Cats. She hated cats. Especially abnormally large ones.

  The feline lifted its head then and gave a sleepy yawn. Sharp teeth, the length of Niya’s forearm, gleamed like ivory daggers in the firelight.

  Niya’s heart lurched, but not because of the toothy daggers, but because there, dangling from the cat’s collar, in the center of swirling metal, winked a red gem.

  “Alōs—”

  “If you’re going to make a joke about me referring to us as mice earlier,” he said from where he remained motionless behind her, “you can save it.”

  “No, look.” She jutted her chin forward. “At its collar.”

  “The Prism Stone,” whispered Alōs before his tone turned annoyed. “Decorating a cat?”

  Despite the tension gripping her entire body, she found herself rolling her eyes. “I think you’re concentrating on the wrong part here, pirate. We found it.”

  “On a beast that might be worse than a giant.”

  Niya’s magic crashed against her sides, a rippling of anticipation as she studied the creature who studied them. “It’s not so big.”

  “Yet one roar could alarm all the guests to come running.”

  “Not if it’s too tired to make a sound,” she suggested, the beginning of a plan forming. “And it already seems awfully tired.”

  Approaching slowly, Niya ignored Alōs’s hiss of warning as she began to sway her hips.

  The feline’s ears pressed back as it watched her approach, its back arching in readiness before she pushed out her magic in a puff of red haze. Relax. She sent her intentions soaring through the air, covering the cat like a warm blanket.

  Its eyes drooped.

  Sleep, she instructed, moving her fingers as if she herself were petting the beast instead of waves of her magic.

  Slowly the cat lowered its head back onto its paws. Vibrating purrs filled the room.

  She glanced to Alōs with a grin, satisfaction radiating through her. “See? Sleepy. Now come be a proper thief and steal your jewel while I keep him drowsy.”

  Alōs stepped to her side, eyeing the cat suspiciously. “How do you know it’s a he?”

  Niya shrugged. “He feels lazy.”

  Alōs gave her a dry glance. “Nice.”

  Turning back to the cat, he let out a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. The jeweled medallion on the feline’s collar was now half-buried beneath where its head rested. Alōs would need to dig under its chin to pull it free.

  Though Niya felt like a twisted-up tangle of nerves, she continued to twirl her wrists in a soothing rhythm. She could sense the strength of the beast under her fingertips, though this animal appeared already half-domesticated. But even the gentlest of cats could scratch at random. Another reason she loathed them. Distrustful creatures.

  Niya watched Alōs step over one large paw, knocking into a whisker. Niya sucked in a breath as the cat shifted, belly up, bringing Alōs with it.

  He now sat straddling the beast, the pendant directly in front of him. He kept still.

  Niya forcing her rapidly beating heart steady.

  Calm, she breathed into her gifts. Gentle.

  Sleepy purrs emanated through the room once more.

  A sigh of relief.

  Alōs’s gaze became marble then, eyes trained on the winking red gem a reach away.

  He pulled one of his daggers free, silver gleaming in the firelight.

  With a barely audible pop, he lifted out the red stone. It winked as he turned it over and over before his glowing eyes landed on her, a triumphant grin beaming.

  “It’s here,” he said. “It’s all here.”

  A rush of relief and elation threatened to knock Niya to her knees.

  We did it! By the stars and sea, we did it!

  The last piece of the Prism Stone.

  Esrom would be saved.

  She would be free.

  Alōs slid down, returning to her side, and with her buzz of adrenaline she hugged him.

  His strong arms held her tight, their blue gazes colliding as they pulled away.

  The moment felt oddly perfect.

  His eyes dipped to her mouth, setting off new flutters in her stomach.

  Niya held still as he leaned in, knowing and wanting what was about to happen.

  And then she sneezed.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Niya could now attest that being chased by a giant cat was an overrated experience.

  She and Alōs careened around the corner leading from the trophy room back into the hallway just as another roar of the beast shoved them from behind.

  Niya’s breaths pumped harsh in her lungs as the heavy movements of the animal fought with her own as she sent a blow of her magic toward the feline.

  A wink of red sparked out of the corner of her eye, Alōs shoving the Prism Stone into his pocket before he twisted, pushing out green pulses of his powers.

  But the damn cat was nimble. Because it was a cat, and it pounced away from each surge of their spells.

  Niya wondered then if animals held the Sight or if they could merely sense magic, as they could sense other oddities humans could not.

  But Niya’s musings were soon stolen from her as the stone floor began to rumble with new meaning.

  “Giants!” she cried as she and Alōs turned to find five of them crashing down the hall behind the cat who chased them.

  Normally she could gather and use the motion around her, but this was too much. Everything charging toward them only made Niya feel like she was drowning in her gifts rather than controlling them.

  Alōs cursed. “Stop using your magic,” he rushed to say as they continued to flee back to the domed room.

  “But why?” she shouted. Even if she could not do much against the giants, hopefully it could buy them a little time.

  “Because we’ve seen how they treat those gifted,” Alōs said hurriedly. “It will almost ensure our deaths.”

  His words sank in, adding to the weight already pushing her down. They were not going to escape.

  For her father had been right—in a few quick strides the giants were upon them, more arriving at the other end.

  They were trapped.

  Niya scurried to the wall of the hall along with Alōs, attempting to bury themselves into the vines, but then large hands swatted down, ripping out plants in violent yanks.

  She was knocked unsteady, the thick motion of so many moving at once dizzying her bearings further. Somewhere at her side she heard Alōs call her
name, but her head spun, and in the next moment she felt a force like boulders shove her from the wall, and she was dropped into a large glass cage.

  She hit against the hard surface, bumping into Alōs as it was turned and twisted until finally righted. She collapsed onto the wooden bottom, Alōs beside her, as they were swiftly lifted up and brought eye level to a circle of toothy-grinning giants.

  A distant meow could be heard far below.

  “Visitors,” one rumbled, his breath fogging the glass.

  “And at this late hour,” tsked another.

  “Our chief will not be pleased,” a female pointed out. “But once they’re cooked up with some of his favorite seasoning, he’ll be happy.”

  “So you are cannibals,” Niya couldn’t help blurting out from where she crouched.

  The giant holding them spun the cage, causing her and Alōs to fall back.

  “How odious you smalls always are,” he said. “Cannibalism would mean we eat our own kind. You most certainly are not our kind.”

  His companions laughed as they made their way forward, parading her and Alōs past all the other giants. They drew quite a long procession as they entered a throne room.

  A twinkling canopy greeted them, more firebugs hanging from jars, while thick trees stood like columns leading up to a pillowed dais. On either side, Niya glimpsed more beasts gathering in the dim light, their green and blue skin blending into their environment.

  The giant who carried them stopped a few paces away from the front of the throne room as drumbeats pounded out.

  Niya’s heart thumped along with the heavy rhythm, fear prickling over her skin as Alōs stepped closer to her. A brush of a finger ran along hers. I am here, the touch seemed to say. While she was grateful for the reassurance, Niya had entered many throne rooms before, stood before the oppressive gaze of the Thief King, and because of that, she had learned how to bury deep her dread and stand tall before all.

  She might have been small compared to those in the room, her gifts trapped under their weight, but her courage matched them in size.

  With a hardening gaze, she clenched her hands into fists and trained her eyes on the new giant who entered. He walked with a hunch, as though he were a tired mountain, a thick layering of necklaces weighing down his front beneath a silver beard.

  Settling into the pile of pillows on the dais, he rubbed his drooping eyes. “Tell me, Dthum, what was so important to summon me from sleep and those of us who were still making merry?”

  “Sire, I caught some night crawlers.” Dthum placed their cage on the ground before the chief’s large feet. “They had made their way into the manor.”

  The crowd rumbled with the news as the old giant blinked his eyes clear, leaning forward to peer at them through the glass.

  “It has been some time since we have had smalls here,” he said, curiosity lighting his features. “Some time indeed. What herbs have you risked your lives to come for?”

  Alōs stepped forward. “We have stolen no plants, sire.”

  “Of course you haven’t,” said the chief with a wave of his hand. “To steal means you have already successfully absconded with the items. You haven’t successfully done anything. But you are here. In my manor. Which means you risked your life for a reason. So I shall ask again: Which herbs have you come for? Mystical Moss? Make Me Fly Ficus? We may not be gifted creatures, but we are collectors of many magical items and know how to harvest some of the powers the lost gods took with them. And we only keep the most rare in the manor.”

  “We do not care for your botany.”

  The chief threw back his head, letting out thunderous laughs, soon echoed by his subjects. “Of course you do,” he assured. “You smalls are all the same. Always taking, never giving. Do you know what it is like to be constantly stolen from for centuries? We have found ways to quiet the ships on our shores, however. Islands with monsters are much more peaceful than one would think.” The chief displayed a row of file-pointed teeth.

  “My companion speaks true.” Niya stepped forward. “We are mere explorers who have heard of what lives on Hallowed Island. We are not here to take anything but to observe. Look at us for the truth. We come only as two and carry no purse or sack for looting, merely the clothes on our backs. We have come to see for ourselves if rumors of the cannibal giants were accurate. We can now see how unjust Aadilor has been to your kind. You are much more than that. You are great creatures, with intelligent minds and beautiful horticultural skills.” She gestured to the lush, leafy room. “Let us leave, and we can carry tales of your wit and engineering. We can help give you trade rather than thieves.”

  The old giant studied Niya from his perch, an amused spark entering his dark eyes. “Well spoken, small female. If such words had been given in times past, they may have moved me. But you see, we have grown comfortable in our isolation. In fact, we have thrived in it. While your intentions may be sound, we know the tales of war and greed of your kind. Peace is never long at hand. I fear your trip here will end the same as all the others. The only question which remains is who would like to be eaten first.”

  A true pang of fear entered Niya’s chest then, and she looked toward Alōs.

  Was this really it?

  Had they made it so close to the finish line for it all to end now?

  The idea of her death had always been a faraway vision. Inevitable, to be sure, but never now. And certainly not here, eaten by giants.

  A shiver ran through her, and whether her magic was useless or not, she would not go down without a fight. Her powers swirled ready in her gut, a growing ball of fire. If she could not burn these thick-skinned giants, surely she could burn the plants that surrounded them.

  She waited for Alōs to give the word, a nod, some signal for them to start their final dance.

  But he appeared unmoved by the chief’s words as he dusted off the bits of dirt from his coat and shirt. “Doesn’t such monotony bore you?” asked Alōs.

  The chief’s brows lifted. “Does eating exotic, well-seasoned meat ever bore you?”

  This elicited more chuckles from his subjects.

  “Of course not,” said Alōs. “But what I meant was, Doesn’t the way you always kill our kind bore you—just as our kind always bores you with our thievery? It sounds like a tedious existence. I would think clever creatures such as yourselves would want more sport from your meals. Especially if you will eventually display us as trophies.”

  A dangerous smile edged the old giant’s lips then. “I see you have traveled far into my manor, small one. So tell me, what sport has your skin adding more value to my collection?”

  “Let us play for our freedom or to be your food.”

  “A game?” the giant mused.

  “Yes.” Alōs nodded. “Some entertainment before your possible supper.”

  The chief’s eyes shone with delighted curiosity. “And what game is it you’d like to propose?”

  “A hunt,” said Alōs. “Set us loose with a quarter–sand fall head start. If we reach the beaches before getting caught by your subjects, we can leave. If we fail, we fill your belly.”

  An excited murmur flowed through the room.

  “Are you mad?” hissed Niya, stomach dropping. “We would need a half sand fall, at least, to beat their strides.”

  The pirate did not look her way, only kept his gaze on the chief, waiting.

  “A hunt?” the old giant mused. “Between us and your tiny kind? That is an amusing prospect. But I can think of a situation far more exciting.”

  Niya swallowed. What could be more exciting for him than a hunt?

  “You fight each other for your freedom.”

  “Fight each other?” repeated Niya with a frown.

  “Yes, my simple one. No weapons but hands and fists, I think. A way to tenderize your meat for us.”

  The room tittered with laughter.

  “Whoever knocks down the other first is set free and can tell whatever tale they’d like of our island. B
ut don’t forget to share what happened to your companion who lost . . .” The chief patted his belly.

  “That’s a horrible game.” Niya folded her arms over her chest.

  “Worse than you both being eaten?” asked the chief.

  Niya didn’t reply, for she realized with a wave of cold dread that she didn’t actually know the answer.

  “Do we have your word on this bargain?” asked Alōs.

  “You cannot seriously be entertaining this?” Niya swung her gaze to him.

  But again, he would not look at her.

  “Alōs,” she demanded, actually stomping her foot.

  “Do we have your word?” he asked the giant again.

  “You do,” assured the chief. “My oath as the ruler of my people. The winner will safely be allowed to leave this island.”

  “Then you have a fight,” declared Alōs.

  The hall erupted in noise and movement, sending Niya’s head momentarily spinning from such large waves of energy.

  They were dumped from their cage and then pushed apart.

  “Alōs!” She stared in disbelief, entire body vibrating with uncertainty. “What have you done?”

  His blue gaze locked on hers, cold and determined. “I have saved one of us.”

  “I will not fight you.”

  “You must fight, little one,” the chief said from his padded throne beside them. “We have a bargain. A gracious one on my part. I could eat you both, right now, but your companion promised sport, so sport is what you shall provide.”

  A wall of giants surrounded them. Eyes blinking down with vicious glee. She saw wooden chips go from hands to pockets, wagers. With her throat tightening, she realized this might be the first bet she had no desire to get in on.

  Her gaze settled back on Alōs, standing tall and imposing in front of her. Somewhere in the folds of his clothes was the last piece of the Prism Stone. Their joy of victory had been fleeting.

  “Alōs,” she said again, a plea this time.

  This could not be their only choice. Every bad situation had many doors to exit through. Arabessa had taught her that. Thinking of her sisters twisted another blade of uncertainty through her. She could not die here. She could not! But neither could she allow Alōs to.