Cutlass (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Barren shook his head.

  “Or maybe you’ll find someone to share your bed,” Cove smirked, then he quickly changed the subject. “I must thank you for allowing my crew and me to come with you. We would not miss this journey for the world.”

  “I assure you, Cove, it is I who am lucky to have you aboard my ship.”

  Cove chuckled and gestured to the room. “See? Not so hard to get used to this, is it?”

  The Ambassador departed and Barren was left alone in the big, empty room. He picked up his bag and threw it on the bed. There was a trunk in the corner he managed to pack all his clothes into. He tried to make a point of using his injured arm, but the more he did, the more painful it was. Finally, Barren stood behind his new desk; the map upon it was just like the one he had admired in Alex’s study. Barren narrowed his eyes, examining it closely—the island of Conn had a small red speck upon it—it had been Alex’s. Barren shook his head in disbelief. He would have to find some way to repay them all for their kindness. Then again, he had a feeling this was their way of repaying him. What they were about to set out on was an adventure. It was a quest. This is what they had craved.

  The ship set sail when the sun broke over the horizon. It was a slow start, but Conn was not very far from Silver Crest, and all Barren could hope for was an easy voyage there. The pirate left his cabin, and headed to the back of the ship with his leather-bound sketchbook. He took a seat on the deck, leaned against one of the barrels of ale, and positioned himself so his knees were drawn up and his sketchbook rested there. Though his right arm was still in the sling, he managed to move the charcoal between his fingers and begin sketching faint outlines of sails. He wasn’t sure when this habit had begun, but it always brought him peace. In these drawings, he could make anything happen—they could be his reality, or his fantasy. Because of that, he felt his sketches should be kept secret. Leaf was really the only one who knew of his talent, and even then the Elf had stumbled upon it one day by accident.

  Barren didn’t have many memories of his father, but there was one he always cherished, one that never made its presence in his dreams, though he would love to relive it. He and his father sat on the shore of Silver Crest. Jess had taken up a stick and began to draw images in the sand. Barren, then no more than a small child, thought they were magnificent. While drawing, Jess told the story of a very mean king who hated his sons. In retaliation, they fled and joined a pirate’s crew. He would make up adventures for the two brothers—encounters with lost treasure, evil sea monsters, and other worlds. Barren hadn’t realized how important those moments were. The stories. The time he had with his father.

  After a moment, he looked up from his drawing—Cove stood with his hands in his pockets, examining the picture Barren was working on. The pirate quickly shut his book and straightened.

  “Albatross,” Barren grunted.

  “I apologize,” said Cove, he bowed his head a little. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Barren smiled, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of being watched, especially at something he tried to hide most of the time.

  “I….want to talk to you,” Cove continued. “About Conn.”

  Barren waited for Albatross to continue, but before he did, he took a seat next to him.

  “I know you’d rather go at this alone, but I think it would be a good idea if Hollow or I came with you into Conn, too, since we can still appear in public as figures of authority. You know, just in case things go wrong.”

  “That is exactly why you can’t come with me. What does it say about you if you are protecting me? You will only be seen as a traitor.”

  “I don’t think it will come to that,” said Cove. “But I think it would be beneficial if you’d let us at least get you past the ports. After that, Alex can take the lead.

  Barren was silent; he traced the metal clasps of his sketchbook with his finger. He didn’t want to agree to this—both he and Cove knew what it meant if he was caught with Barren. No one would excuse his betrayal. The Ambassador would be forced to leave a life of privilege. He didn’t know how lucky he was to have a place to call home.

  “I have no blood in Arcarum I am bound to.”

  “You are lying,” said Barren quickly, and he met Cove’s dark gaze. “I know you are. I saw the look on your face when Hollow made that same statement. There is someone.”

  Barren had never seen Cove’s features turn so cold before. His jaw clenched and his eyes lost a little of their luster. He looked away, attempting to gather himself before he spoke, and when he looked back, Barren saw a very confused man.

  “It isn’t what you think. The affection I have for her is not shared, and even if I acted upon my wish, I do not think I could bring her into this world. It is too dangerous.”

  “And I only make that danger more real,” said Barren.

  “I can control my desires, Barren,” said Cove. “What I am helping you with—this is far greater than two people. Besides, even if not my lover, she will always be my friend. I will never lose her.”

  Barren studied Cove for a long moment. He had known the Ambassador for years now, but he had never heard him speak of affection for anyone—not even his own family. Cove was a private man; he had to be. He carried too much knowledge—he knew about scandal, betrayals, and plans for revenge, both in his political world and the pirate world. Cove was given the nickname Albatross for that very reason. To those who sail the sea, the Albatross symbolizes burdens.

  “Very well,” he said. “You and Hollow can lead us into Conn.”

  A smile spread across Cove’s face, and he stood quickly. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

  Barren chuckled, following the Ambassador, and getting to his feet. “If you find yourself in trouble, remember that I did not recommend your coming.”

  “I will keep that in mind,” said Cove, and as he was about to depart, he paused. “By the way—nice drawing.”

  Barren narrowed his eyes, muttering a thank you as heat burned his face. The Ambassador smirked, and then turned quickly to leave.

  After Cove’s request, there came another—from Larkin Lee herself, who made it known she would not stay in the shadows while Barren paraded through the Orient in search of the bloodstone. She was still Barren’s responsibility, and he was bound by the code to keep her safe. He hadn’t considered her leaving the ship. She was probably the most recognizable of all of them, and once she was spotted, the rest of them were doomed.

  No matter how many times he refused her, she fought all the more feverishly for her side.

  “You do realize if you are caught, you aren’t going back to Maris,” said Barren. “They’re going to hide you, or worse, let privateers deal with you.”

  “Then that’s just more incentive for me to keep my head low when I’m out and about,” said Larkin.

  “Or stay on the ship where you won’t have to worry about being spotted,” Barren pointed out.

  “And what if they search the ship? They’re going to be looking for you now that everyone in the Orient believes you killed me.”

  She had a point.

  “And how can I trust that you won’t tell the entire population who I am?”

  Larkin raised a brow and smirked. “You gave me a sword,” she said.

  “And what does that have to do with what I just asked?”

  “You trust me.”

  Barren opened his mouth to speak, but found that he didn’t know how to respond, which angered him even more.

  “Well, Lady,” he mocked. “Do what you prefer, but I am not responsible for anything that happens to you from this point on.”

  When Barren turned from her, he came face-to-face with Leaf. “Abandoning the code?” he questioned. “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

  “Come on, Leaf! She’s practically agreed to join us.”

  “Your uncle said she could not go back to Maris, privateers came for her in Silver Crest—I don’t think there was a choice in the matter.”

&nb
sp; Barren scowled at his quartermaster.

  “I’m not letting you out of your responsibility for that girl. You had better watch her close in Conn.”

  “When you’re around, I don’t feel like much of a captain.”

  The Elf was amused, and then his features softened. “You know you’d rather hear it from me than the Elders.”

  There was truth to that.

  The night wore on, and Barren was glad for the silence, despite the fact that it gave him more time to think. They would be at Conn by mid-morning, and he wondered how the island might have changed since the last time he was there. A lump rose in his throat at the thought. Conn bore the stain of his father’s blood. It would never be washed away, not until William’s death.

  ***

  Barren slept lightly that night and woke early in the morning. Stepping out of his cabin, he relieved Sam from his duty as helmsman for a few hours. As he observed the gray morning and the slow sunrise, he was reminded of how peaceful the Orient really could be—here she was at her best: cool and crisp. As the hours passed, Barren watched his crew rise and begin preparing for the day. It wasn’t until the island of Conn came into view that Barren passed the ship’s helm to Leaf.

  Despite Barren’s fear of exposing Cove, Hollow, and the other Arcarum pirates, they had a good disguise—he was on a ship from Arcarum and Cove would present himself as the captain. It would take all the attention away from him and the other members of his crew who would follow him into Conn.

  Barren disappeared into his cabin. Walking up to the washbasin, he stared at himself in the mirror. Though he looked tired, he couldn’t feel the heaviness of it yet. He splashed cold water on his face, and tied his hair into a ponytail as best he could with his injured shoulder. In exchange for his normal brown pants, he pulled on black ones, and shrugged into a black jacket. As he stepped outside, he appeared much like the other Arcarum senators.

  “I don’t like it,” Larkin said when she saw him. “The way you look.”

  “Have you ever?” he asked with a smirk. Larkin averted her eyes, but her cheeks colored with pink. “It is your turn now. Everyone in the Orient knows your face.”

  Larkin frowned, but she must have agreed, because she disappeared into the hatch, appearing later with a darker cloak on, her hood drawn up over her head. It was a simple solution, and it did its job, shadowing her face and hiding her hair.

  “That will work,” said Barren, observing Leaf in comparison—he had opted to hide his body in a cloak, and keep a hat pulled over his ears. They would draw more attention if anyone could tell they were Elvish.

  Conn was a small island, mostly dominated by three-story brick buildings that made the island a maze to travel through. It was not a town focused on the sea, which was one reason Barren never understood his father’s favoritism for the island, but it was quiet and peaceful and as they walked off the ship in a pack, eyes did not follow them.

  Alex followed Cove in the line-up, waiting for his chance to take over. As they made their way down the dock, they could see that the square before them was crowded with people and tents, stained with mud. A gray light seemed to illuminate everything, and a fine mist was in the air. Barren felt particularly vulnerable, surrounding himself with so many people, but there was no backing out now, and from what he could tell, there was no other way into Conn but forward, for, at the very back of the courtyard, a large wall of rock rose up, enclosing the market. The only way through it was by a dark causeway in the distance.

  The pirates moved forward into the crowded market before the town of Conn. The ground was covered in uneven cobbles, and mud and straw. The tents were small, and not everyone had one to protect them from the mist. Some sat crouched down beside wooden carts, heads bowed from the weather. It seemed a miserable place, and because of the obvious poverty, it was easy to pinpoint those of wealth. It was paraded around, evident by their attire—flaunting the privilege that came with a prestigious surname. It was hard for Barren to watch.

  The market led into a passage that opened to the rest of the island. It was narrow and shadowed, and now and then haggard men and women passed them, dragging sacks or pushing wheelbarrows full of vegetables or fruits down the narrow way. The moisture covering the walls made the moss stand out against the stone, and the odor in the air was a mixture of decay and filth. Trash lined the crevices where the buildings and cobble met, and fat rats with red eyes munched on leftovers. Barren half-expected Larkin to scream at the sight of the creatures, but she remained quiet, only glancing their way briefly, and hurrying a little faster down the passage.

  The causeway ended, and a three-story brick building rose before them. Like the one they had just passed under, its facade was blackened brick, and dark windows lined the front in drab rectangles. It was long and stretched from one end of the island to the other like a giant wall. The only way to get beyond it was through another passageway built into the center of the building.

  “This place is set up like a maze,” said Larkin. “It doesn’t seem convenient. Are these the only passageways people can go through?”

  “Yes,” said Alex. “Conn is not built for convenience. It is built for survival.”

  “Survival? From what?”

  “Attacks,” replied Cove. “Pirate attacks.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Larkin. “How do these buildings protect against pirate attacks?”

  “Usually, when pirates attack, they send a warning shot—a cannon. Because of the way Conn is fashioned, it is unlikely that pirates would be able to raid. A cannon would destroy the first building, creating a barrier between the attackers and the rest of the island.”

  Barren looked around uneasily.

  “Well, Conn is in one piece...they must not have much trouble with pirates,” said Larkin.

  “No,” agreed Cove. “But then again, pirates are not the only ones with cannons.”

  The crew continued, forward, entering another causeway. Finally, they came to the end of the island and the last brick building. It was probably the shabbiest of them all—broken windows were scattered randomly across the front. Parts of the building were black from age. Stone stairs, chipped and crumbling, led to a weatherworn door, stripped of paint. The pirates looked up at the building and cringed.

  “I don’t think anyone lives here at all,” said Cove.

  “‘E’s on the third floor,” said Alex. He took a step forward.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” asked Larkin.

  Alex looked back at her. “No, but we look pretty suspicious just standin’ out ‘ere starin’ at this place.”

  Alex made his way up the stairs, and pushed in the rickety door. As the pirates entered the building, the smell of mildew hit their noses. Furniture still crowded the entryway and living room; old rugs covered the dusty floor. It looked as if nothing was out of place, even the cobwebs hung undisturbed. Many of the windows were painted black, so the only light that greeted them were the bits that peeked in through the chipped panes. Alex didn’t pay attention to the look of the place; he had eyes only for the stairs, and hurried up them. The company followed, only slower, because as they moved over the steps, they creaked beneath their feet, worn and warped.

  “I don’t think anyone is here,” said Larkin.

  “People are ‘ere,” said Alex. “They are just hidin’.”

  The silence was deafening. If anyone was here, they were dead.

  The third floor was just as lifeless as the rest of the building, except that the air was warmer, and the smells were stronger—spice and sweat hit their noses. The hall was filled with dust and cobwebs, and the walls were covered with peeling patterned paper—dark green with pink flowers. Alex hurried to the end of the hall and knocked on one of the many doors. There was no answer.

  Barren stepped forward and withdrew a small knife from his boot, jamming it into the lock. The door swung open.

  “I bet this isn’t what you expected to find,” said Barren.

 
The room had been ransacked. Nothing was left unbroken—wooden pieces from chairs and tables were everywhere, the windows were shattered and glass covered the floor. Barren stepped inside the room, looking around at the mess. Luckily, there was no body or blood—whoever had been here hadn’t killed Devon Kennings.

  “Did William find him?” asked Larkin.

  “We did lose three days,” Alex stated grimly, shifting garbage around with his cane.

  “What do we do now?” asked Leaf.

  Barren looked at Alex who was about to respond when an elderly man stumbled into the room. He was dressed in a tattered blue coat. A long white beard adorned his face, stained with alcohol.

  “Ye lookin’ for Devon?” When he spoke, gold teeth were visible beneath his mustache.

  “Yes,” said Barren, turning to him. “Who are you?”

  “No need fer names, but there was some soldiers in ‘ere the other day. Took off with the ‘ole man. He gave ‘em a fight, but they took ‘em anyway. Trashed the place.”

  “Did you recognize the men who took him? Were any of them from Maris?” Cove asked.

  “They were all hooded. Didn’t fit in well with this crowd, I’d say.”

  “Where’d they take him?” asked Barren.

  “Well, I’d imagine Estrellas,” the old man leaned against the door. “That’s where they take all those fugitives.”

  Estrellas was a fugitive island. It was where the islands of the Orient sent their worst criminals. To the pirates, it was known for its brutal forms of punishment.

  “What’d they arrest him for?” asked Alex.

  “He’s involved in piracy. Was part of Jess Reed’s crew, he was. Guess it came back to haunt him.” Barren turned again to look at the room. He didn’t want to listen to the man anymore—he could tell by the way the old drunk was speaking that his opinion of Jess Reed was not favorable. “What do you need with ‘em anyway?”

  “That is none of your business,” Cove’s voice rang with authority, but the older man just looked amused and narrowed his eyes.