by Ashley Capes
On the floor, his blood slid toward Luis a moment then came to a stop.
Luis clamped his free hand over the cut. His face had paled. “My blood seemed to surge toward yours,” he said.
Never nodded. “Unchecked, I can drain a man in moments.”
Ferne’s eyes were wide.
Ruveo’s face was twisted into loathing. “You are cursed.”
Never sneered; how typical of the man. “Congratulations, Ruveo – your eyes function perfectly.” He glanced to Ferne. “I drained a sea-creature and now they fear me. So if you want to find the Sea King’s Jewels, about which I do not truly care, I can help you while I search for answers. Otherwise, we can go our separate ways at the bottom of the stairs.”
“No. We can work together.” Ferne moved to the stair and spoke without turning. “Luis, Ruveo?”
“Fine with me,” Luis said. His eyes were a little wide but he still offered Never a smile as he bound his cut with a strip of rag.
Ruveo sneered. “Only while we’re on this island.”
“Good enough,” Ferne said. “Lead on, Never.”
“I don’t suppose anyone has any water first?”
“There are puddles outside from the rain,” Luis said.
Never stepped out into the dark. The sky glittered above the sea, which was barely visible on the horizon. A flash of light between nearby rocks revealed a puddle – it didn’t look too clean but it was better than nothing. He exhaled and stood a moment before lowering himself to drink. Another close call. But everyone had survived, that was something. He had controlled his blood once more. That was more than something.
He returned to Javiem’s chamber. “Down we go. Slowly in the dark.”
At the bottom Never led them quickly by the cell-like rooms, outlining his guesswork about the light, then finally down to pause in the amber glow before the door and its leaf symbol. “According to the map, this leads to the treasure room. Down that passage behind us, is the door to the altar room where the sea-creatures gather. We should keep an ear on it.”
Ferne nodded. “But you can open this?”
“Not yet.”
Ruveo snorted.
Never gestured to the door. “Well then, step up and let’s hear your brilliant idea. No? Nothing?”
“Shut-up,” Ruveo said.
“Careful, you’ll start a battle of wits with that comment, my friend.”
Ruveo swore and stomped along the passage; hopefully to stand rear guard.
Ferne was frowning. “Stick to the job at hand, will you?”
“Of course.” He pointed to the interlocking leaves. “This isn’t like the other doors, there’s no point that twists or allows pressure in the symbol. I think the lock isn’t within.”
“Here?” Ferne turned in the chamber. “The walls are featureless.”
Luis examined the ceiling as best he could. “Not much up there. Nor is it practical.”
Never nodded. “Agreed. That monastery bunker and the altar room nearby suggest at least some traffic to this room in the past.”
Ferne snapped his fingers. “The altar.”
Never chuckled. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Don’t worry, you still have to open the door. And that’s if I’m right,” he added.
“Let’s find out.” Never headed down the dark corridor, pausing where Ruveo waited. “Can you hear them?”
“No. Why?”
“The altar is the key to opening the door,” Never said. “And it’s out there.”
“You’re sure?”
“No,” Ferne said. “But we have to try.”
“Here’s what we do then,” Never said. “I open this door and we run for the altar. It’s close. You hold off any sea-creatures and I look for a way to open the other door. If you’re in trouble, call. I’ll set my blood loose.”
“Sounds safe enough. For you,” Ruveo said.
“Very well. We’ll use the curse on your blood then.”
Ferne grunted. “Enough. No point holding off – let’s move.”
Never pressed the symbol and stepped back, letting the door swing open. Amber light flooded the passage. Never dashed into the domed room and across to the altar, stepping down to it. His boots squelched, sticking as he walked. He chose not to examine the slush too closely. The altar was cut from quartz – no surprises, but it was stained green and red. Silver patterns had been obscured by the muck, the edges barely catching the glow. He felt around its sides for a symbol.
“Anything?” Luis hissed.
The three stood guard around the altar, knives ready.
“Not yet.”
“Hurry it along,” Ferne said.
Never paused. A glimpse of leaf-symbols beneath the trail of grime. He pushed on it and a deep click echoed. A moment later, a second, softer click. “Found it.” He stood. Beyond Ferne, the door to the passage was sliding closed, swinging inward. It would seal them within the altar room!
“No.” Luis dashed forward to lean against the door, but it pushed him back as it slid shut with a thud.
“They’re coming,” Ruveo called.
Never threw a curse over his shoulder. Sea-creatures were moving into the room from the main stairs. They strode with purpose, the hissing breath echoing in the chamber. A tall figure led the group. Perhaps a dozen, with more slapping of webbed feet coming from higher up on the stairway.
Ferne strode to brace himself before the altar. “You better do something, Never.”
Never slapped the symbol again. Two distinct clicks and now the door was sliding open. “Check the other door,” he shouted. Luis slipped into the hall. He returned within moments.
“Closed,” Luis said.
Then it was one open and one closed, but not, it seemed, two. “Help me with the body.” He waved Luis over, lifting one end of the dead sea-creature. It was still slick with ichor. He grunted; arms straining at the weight.
“Hold them a moment,” he said to Ferne and Ruveo.
The first few creatures were already closing as Never crab-walked the body to the doorway and dumped it. “Help them,” he told Luis before sprinting toward the altar. Ruveo and Ferne had engaged the nearest of the sea-creatures, slicing and ducking swipes from barbed hands. Ferne landed a cut on the lead creature then leapt back.
Their numbers were increasing.
Never knelt by the symbol. “Get ready to run for the door,” he shouted. Once again, he sliced his own wrist and blood strained beneath his skin. He thumped the symbol and sprang atop the altar, arm outstretched.
“Now!” He released control and blood shot from his arm to strike the leader in a red spray. The sea-creatures scrambled back as the bigger figure stumbled. Ichor streamed from its chest, mixing with Never’s own blood.
He fell to one knee at a wave of dizziness...
All he knew was water.
Wavering, cold, sharp. The ebb and flow of it. The light of the moon on the surface. The caress of bubbles. Then, animal rage at intruders on his island. The thrill when a barb struck home. The weight of a comatose body dragging behind him; the difficulty in gripping the fleshy limbs. Laying the bodies across the altar –
“Never.”
He blinked as the amber room came into focus. Luis was dragging him from the blood-covered altar. Never flinched back, breaking the red flow. The sea creatures had receded and now the leader’s body lay in place of the first. He fought the stream of blood, clamping a hand over it and tensing up, as if to seal off his veins.
“Step over,” Luis said.
One after the other, they squeezed through the door, which was jammed by the body of the first creature. Never managed a grin; just as he’d hoped. Luis started leading him down the hall but Never stopped. “Pull it free. We have to seal the altar room.”
“Can you stand?”
“I’m fine, just do it.”
Ferne and Ruveo appeared as Luis leapt to the door and bent by the body, cursing as he tugged on it. “It’s ca
ught.”
Ruveo and Ferne charged forward. Ferne knelt and hacked into an arm with his knife. When the body finally came free, half remained with them and the other half on the far side of the door as it swung the rest of the way closed. Safe. Never leant against the stone, breathing hard. The fever had eased, but the taint of the sea-creature blood was almost as unpleasant. The walls appeared as if through a thick film of water.
He shook his head until it cleared.
Ruveo returned. “Well, that was all for nothing.”
“What?”
“The door is still closed,” Ferne said.
“No.” Never shot up. He’d heard a second click at the altar. It had to be open. Or be unlocked at the very least. Never dashed to the symbol, jaw clenched as he slapped his hands against the surface and pushed. A click and the door slid open to a dark passage. “There.”
Chapter 12.
Ferne strode into the shadows, head shifting left then right. “Help him,” he told Luis.
Never accepted an arm from Luis, and together they followed Ruveo into the dark. The passage stretched beyond the limit of light left by the amber walls at their back.
“That was disturbing. And maybe even impressive,” Luis said.
“My curse?”
“It saved us, Never.”
At a cost.
“Do you still feel weak?” he asked.
Never nodded, or what passed for a nod. “But more than that. Ruveo’s reaction.”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s like that.”
“Which is like most people who discover my true nature.”
“I don’t care.”
“Bless you for it, Luis.” He paused to catch his breath again. “But what I meant was that you have to watch a person like that – if he doesn’t see me as human, he’ll have less trouble betraying me. Which means all of us.”
“I’ll watch him, don’t worry.”
Ahead, Ferne and Ruveo became silhouettes against a cool blue light. They split apart, disappearing.
Never stopped when he reached the light thrown from the typical quartz veins; it bounced off something wondrous. A sea of jewels covered the floor. Brilliant white diamonds and sapphires in every shade of blue, from those pale as the sky to fist-sized pieces richer than the sea. A walkway of stone encircled the room and split the middle of the floor like a stone bridge between the gems.
Ferne and Ruveo were knee-deep in the jewels. Luis moved away to walk the perimeter, shaking his head in what had to be disbelief. “There are chips in the quartz here,” he said.
No-one answered; they were too busy with the jewels. The treasure, as the map promised, but not the treasure Never sought.
But there was an alcove.
He strode along the walkway. There had to be something beyond the arch – it had to be the last secret.
“I shouldn’t have doubted you, Never.” Ruveo was trailing diamonds between his fingers, letting them tinkle back into the piles. His eyes were almost as bright as the treasure.
“I hold no grudge,” Never told the man. And it was not a lie – he’d long grown accustomed to such misconceptions when his true nature was revealed. And a bit of fear was probably prudent.
Ferne climbed after him, placing a hand on his shoulder before Never could reach the entryway. “What about the Sea King’s Eye? Did your map mention it?”
Never shrugged. “In the pile? The next room?”
“Let’s find out.”
The next room spread around a central column, upon which rested a square shard of quartz set with a dark, golden piece of topaz.
“It is here,” Ferne cried. He took the Sea King’s Eye and ran a hand over the surface, spinning it to examine from every angle. Never moved directly to the walls. Faded pictures were painted on the surface. He traced them back to the side of the entryway.
The first depicted a pair of figures facing one another in sleeveless robes. Male and female. Each held a knife. In the next panel both had made an incision in their wrist and blood spun between them in a dark twine. Even with the age of the images, the slight difference in colour for his blood and her blood was clear – different shades of tiny inlaid rubies, twisted like rope.
He ran a thumb across one of the scars in his palm.
The third image showed the two figures apart and a new female with a knife. In the next panel the heads had crumbled from the wall, but the same exchange of blood occurred. He stepped to the next and the next and in all pictures there was never an indication of death or pain. New players entered and left and eventually the robed people began to meet other peoples. Those with pale skin; those with darker skin and always in different states of dress.
The green and brown, precursor to Hanik peoples? And the gentle curves of the swords at one belt – the Kiymako?
The next image was broken. Only feet and the hints of robes remained. A breath caught in his throat. He traced the broken stone. Fresh, regular cuts, as if from a chisel? Someone had been here, recently. How recently, he could not tell. But the chips and broken parts of the other images appeared natural. Or at the very least, ancient, the breaks near to matching the colour of the walls.
Not this piece.
Who? Who had been here? Had one of the treasure-hunters survived? Cut a jewelled piece of stone from the wall? Where then, were they now?
In the final image two of the robed figures sat enthroned high above a mass of different peoples. In one hand each, again, they held knives but the other hands held open books marked with five-pointed leaves. Each face was calm, benign. The throng of people stared up, adoringly.
“Quite an image,” Ferne said.
Never blinked. Luis stood beside the hunter, smiling. Never gestured. “Indeed. They obviously saw themselves as rulers of mankind.”
“Looks like they were.”
“Perhaps for a time.”
“So you’re really a descendant of them?” Luis’ eyebrows were raised.
“Possibly.”
Ferne jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The pictures suggest so.”
He shook his head. “I remember my mother before she died – we lived in Quisa, my brother and I and her. No-one in our family ever mentioned the curse before...before we learnt of it.”
“And your father?” Luis asked.
“I don’t remember him.”
Ferne clapped his shoulder. “Seems like your ancestors were once rulers – you come from exalted stock.”
Never said nothing.
Luis laughed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Take heart.”
“Luis, your cheer is a beacon.” He smiled; the spearman had a point. His search for secrets had borne fruit. Only...he could have laughed, he could have wept. How dissatisfying – and how predictable – that the answers he’d gleaned led only to more questions. Always more questions!
Twenty years of searching and now, what? Twenty more ahead? “I have answers but they are incomplete. Why wouldn’t my mother name us? Who and where is my father? If I am a descendant of these people, what led to their downfall that no-one speaks of them today? And why has my family hidden itself? I do not even know where to look next.” He clenched a fist. “You can see how I’d be somewhat disheartened.”
“The Forests of Hanik,” Luis said. He pointed to the final picture. “Those people there – look. They remind me of Hanik folk.”
Never peered closer. Standing on the dais below the enthroned figures but above the adoring crowds, were smiling figures with pale skin whose robes were forest-green. He hadn’t noticed them before.
“Could just as easily be Vadiya,” Never said.
“Maybe,” Luis said. “You could keep looking around the Isle.”
“Not with our scaly friends lurking about.” And perhaps he already had the most valuable secret the island had to keep. And capital. He’d have to take a few diamonds – passage to Hanik or Vadiya would not be cheap. At least that was covered.
Maybe a smile wouldn’t hurt.
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Ruveo leapt into the room. Sapphires slipped from his clothing, as if his pockets were overflowing, but he held a long bone. “I found this in the jewels. It’s human.”
Ferne frowned. “Are there more?”
Jewels stirred in the next room.
A pair of man-like shapes were rising, jewels trickling from broad shoulders. When the tinkling of diamonds stopped the things stood seven feet tall – covered in jewels from head to toe. He gaped. Covered? No. The shapes were made of jewels. The toes themselves were buried in the piles of diamonds but the faces were no more than indents, grooves where mouth and eyes ought to have rested.
Once they had formed, they fell still.
“Gods. What now?” Ruveo asked.
“They aren’t doing anything. They’re just standing there,” Luis said, glancing from figure to figure.
Never waited. Still no movement from the towering jewels. Were they sentinels? Why rise now? “I don’t like this.”
“They’re not moving. Let’s leave before they change their minds,” Ruveo said.
“Wait.” Never held up a hand. “Too many surprises in this place.”
“We can’t stay here forever, can we?” Ruveo stepped onto the trail around the edge of the room, eyes locked on the sentinels. Never spun his knife in his palm, taking comfort in the familiar action. “This isn’t a good idea, Ruveo.”
The man offered no response. Instead, he crept along the wall.
And the guards offered no movement.
Jewels glittered.
A sapphire slipped from a pocket in Ruveo’s pant leg. It hit the stone walkway and bounced into the heap. Ruveo froze. The guards remained still.
“He’s going to make it,” Luis said.
Ruveo drew level with the nearest figure, a good ten feet from where it stood, and the strange hulking sentinel of jewels did not even twitch, nor did its face shift. The hunter stared long at the thing before taking another step.
Colour flashed across the room.