Cutlass (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Barren knew it came from whatever had befallen him while he stayed in this tower. Places like these were horrible to experience for anyone, but in particular, for Elves because their senses were so heightened—the guards took great pleasure in that. Barren was only half-Elf, yet had already noticed an increased awareness after passing into this tower. His eyes caught creatures scurrying in the shadows—rats with plump bellies, strange worm-like things with thousands of legs crawling the walls, even dried blood on the floor. The smells were a mixture of death and mold, and of course there were screams, begging, and harsh laughter, all rising together from somewhere in the tower. All these things, Barren could hear, which meant Leaf experienced them at an even greater level.

  Finally, the Elf led them left—whatever he’d heard down the hall to his right must have driven him away. They moved with a certain amount of tension, sticking to the shadows. Barren kept his hand on the wall. It was gritty and wet in places, as if water were leaking through the cracks. It made him wonder how far below sea level they were, and where the drainage tunnels were located. Larkin might know—she’d obviously used them to gain entrance to the tower, as her hair was wet and her clothes—his clothes, the clothes he’d unknowingly given her for this very event—held the stench of the water. If they could locate those drains, maybe they would provide the best escape. It wasn’t like they were going to be able to walk out the front doors, and the jagged rocks he’d seen upon entering made a barrier around the tower. So windows were also off-limits.

  He considered their escape routes as he watched Larkin. She hugged herself, and her head darted around at every tiny noise. Watching her fight Cas was both amazing and terrifying and she should never have had to do it. This day, Larkin had fought for her life, she had fought for her innocence, and she’d fought to hold onto the morals she cherished. And she’d lost. She had just killed a man—brutally. What bothered Barren most was the fact that she’d fought for his life, too. While he was grateful, he had questions for her—most pressing: why did she risk her life for him?

  Pain registered with Barren—it was slight, but stinging. He looked down at his hand and released his fist—crescent shapes were indented into his palm, some bled. As the blood pooled, he felt weak. What was he becoming? He was noticing things about Larkin, worrying about her—it wasn’t long ago that he’d wanted to throw her overboard.

  Shouts rang out in the hallway. “Get them!”

  “Run!” Leaf commanded.

  Behind them, heavy footfalls sounded, and before them, growls erupted angrily—they were surrounded. They stopped in their tracks and backed into a circle as more and more guards encircled them. They were clearly human—for their flesh was like Barren’s, but what they’d experienced had taken them far beyond human comprehension, so that as they moved around them, Barren felt he was being watched by wild animals.

  “You have few options. You fight here and die sooner, or you surrender and die later,” a guard’s voice rose above the cries of the crowd.

  “Then I suppose it makes no difference whether or not we start now,” said Leaf.

  And the fight began. Barren knew there were too many of them, and Larkin was weak from her earlier encounter with Cas. The only advantage they had was that it was hard for all of them to fight at once, and even then, the crowd did not allow for much movement.

  Barren and Leaf fought, taking down guards as best they could, but Larkin struggled, and the more Barren became distracted with her distress, the less focus he had on himself. Pain shot up his arm, and he noticed his hand had been hit by a blade. He ground his teeth and looked up, thrusting his blade through the guard’s gut. Pulling it out, he went after another, cutting him down where he stood with a blow to the shoulder and head, but it seemed the guards thickened. They’d drawn every man in Estrellas to their spot. Their biggest mistake had been coming here, the second biggest had been killing Cas.

  From the darkness above, a figure fell. For a moment, Barren thought it was a guard, and that they were done for, but when the figure landed—perfectly on its feet, clad in a hooded cloak—it twisted and cut down guards as if they put up no fight. There was grace and skill in each movement, and fast and deadly precision. That fighting style could only come from one kind of person, an assassin—a woman assassin if Barren had to guess by her stature and slight build.

  Soon, more guards riddled the floor than stood, and they fell back, calling for reinforcements.

  “Follow me!” the hooded figure demanded.

  And they did.

  They followed, running as quickly as they could. The figure rounded a hall in the darkness and then crouched before a grate in the wall. Working it free, their savior slid into the opening without a word. Leaf followed, and Barren turned to Larkin.

  “I’ll help you down once I’m inside.”

  She nodded in agreement. Barren squeezed through the opening and then reached for Larkin, catching her long legs, and guiding her safely to the floor beside him. Leaf reached up and moved the grate over the opening.

  The group held their breath as feet shuffled past. Curses were whispered and weapons clanked. Soon there was silence again.

  “You can let go of me now,” Larkin said quietly.

  He looked down at her, surprised. Barren hadn’t realized he was still holding her. One arm was on her waist, the other positioned on her back protectively. Both of her hands were pressed to his chest, as if this closeness bothered her. He continued to stare at her. He’d forgotten how small she was, and having only held her once before, he found himself amazed that someone so delicate could kill someone as massive as Cas.

  “Barren,” Larkin’s voice was even. He shook his head, snapping out of his stupor. He released her, clearing his throat as he stepped away. He turned to observe his surroundings. There was light up ahead, but where they had landed, it was dark. Barren could hear water moving close to them.

  “Let’s go,” an unfamiliar voice said.

  “Wait,” Barren demanded. “We don’t even know who you are.”

  “Do you need to know who I am? I just saved your lives.”

  “And by the looks of things, you’re an assassin,” said Barren. “So I’d very much like to know why you’re here and why you saved us.”

  A sigh escaped from her mouth and a light flashed in the darkness. The woman held up a small torch she must have been carrying under the cloak. “You’re like your father,” she said and the assassin threw back her hood. “Suspicious, even of old women.”

  She was older. She had long, silver-blonde hair pulled back into a braid, and blue eyes as bright as a youth’s. Her cheekbones were high, which made her seem aristocratic. And the voice she spoke with—it was warm, like honey…like a mother’s voice.

  “You knew my father?”

  “I helped Jessdia out many times when he was in need,” said the woman. “If he were still alive, I am sure he would owe me many a debt.”

  “Not many called my father by his full name, even close friends.”

  “You’re right,” she agreed. “I was the only one of his friends to call him Jessdia, but then again, I was not always his friend.”

  “So…are you or are you not here to kill us?” Leaf stepped in. “Because I can’t tell whose side you’re on.”

  “That all depends on why you’re here,” she said, and suddenly that warm voice was cold and frightening. Barren’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, but her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure you want to attempt to fight me?”

  Barren didn’t want to fight her—she could probably take him down in a second, but he was tired of stalling. “Tell us who you are.”

  The woman considered it for a moment, and then began. “You do not know me, or rather, you don’t remember me, so my name will bring you no comfort. I am Emmalyn. You can call me Em. Like your father, I prefer my nickname.”

  “Wait,” Leaf interrupted. “You knew Jess, and you say you were his friend, which means you could only be here for
Devon Kennings.”

  The woman’s lips twitched. “Now what I need to know is why three pirates are searching for an old man?”

  “Perhaps we are here for the same reasons you are,” said Barren. “Unless you’re the one who placed him here.”

  The woman scoffed. “I was not the one who placed him here, and it is unlikely we are here for the same reasons, as you do not love the man you’re seeking.”

  Barren felt stunned. He certainly hadn’t expected that. He cleared his throat. “Well, you’d be right about that.”

  “We believe Devon has some valuable information concerning the bloodstone,” said Leaf.

  Em’s features became hard, and it was evident she knew exactly what the Elf was talking about. “Devon would be of no use to you in matters concerning the bloodstone.”

  “What makes you so sure?” asked Barren.

  “If you are doing anything that involves its recovery, you’d do well to leave him out of it. He will not help you.”

  “Then will you?” Barren was becoming impatient with this woman. “Because you seem to know a lot about it.”

  “I did not come here to relive my past,” said Em. “I came to find Devon.”

  Em turned and headed down the tunnel.

  “It is not my wish to see the bloodstone recovered,” said Barren quickly. “Please, I…I just need answers.”

  There was truth in what he said: it really wasn’t his wish to actually find the bloodstone, but to stop his brother, and he really did want answers. It hadn’t been long ago that he discovered his mother’s identity as a Lyric, and his father’s supposed involvement in her death. There had to be someone who could give him clarity, someone who could tell them where the bloodstone was.

  Em froze at his words and turned slowly to face Barren. He almost wished he couldn’t see her features in the torchlight—while she seemed angry, she also seemed to pity him and if there was one thing Barren hated most, it was that.

  “If you’re going to ask him anything, we have to find him first. Let’s go.”

  Barren felt triumphant, though he wondered why Em seemed so resolute that Devon would not help. He had a lot of questions, but they could wait until after they found Devon.

  Barren realized they were now roaming the duct system of the tower. This tunnel would lead outside the tower walls. The smell around them was rancid, and Barren pulled his cloak over his nose and mouth to muffle it. There were torches interspersed along the walls. They were far enough apart, though, to force them to follow only the light of Em’s torch for long intervals.

  For a while, Barren didn’t want to speak—but the silence in the duct grew to be too much for him, especially since they were following a woman they’d just met in the tower of Estrellas.

  “So were you a member of my father’s crew?”

  “Yes, but only after I tried to kill him,” she replied, her voice so warm, Barren knew it was a part of her disguise. “I was once a royal assassin.”

  “A position as a royal assassin isn’t easy to come by,” said Leaf. “You must have been good.”

  “I was,” she agreed. “But Devon was better.”

  “But…I thought Devon was a Chancellor,” said Barren.

  “Yes, he was…but he was also a killer. You can be two things at once—after all, isn’t that what Albatross does?”

  Barren clenched his jaw—he decided not to acknowledge that last part.

  “I worked closely with Devon before I knew of his betrayal to the king. That was how Devon was able to protect your father, which I should say I am grateful for now. It wasn’t until after he was exposed, and I was sent to kill him and Jess that I realized I might love him.”

  “Why were you sent to kill my father?”

  “Because Cathmor was desperate for him to cease his involvement in the Ore Wars,” said Em. “Apparently whatever there was to gain from that battle was far more important than his son’s life.”

  Barren let that last sentence settle into the silence. There were few things he actually knew about the time of the Ore Wars. Most of it involved his father fighting to prevent Cathmor from gaining more territory. Jess had been an advocate for freedom, an advocate for islands whose wish was to remain immersed in their own culture. There was so much to love about that, and Barren hated the thought that his grandfather had attempted to destroy it.

  “Where are we going?” Larkin’s voice quaked in the stillness. Barren wondered if it was from fear or cold. His fingers ached for her in a way he didn’t really understand. He just wanted to touch her, believing it might comfort her—but what comfort came from the hands of a killer?

  “We’re heading for the cells,” Em replied. “I checked the chambers—where men are tortured, and thankfully Devon was not there. However, the cells are for men who are held for a purpose…held because someone expected them. It’s much more dangerous to go there.”

  Again there was silence.

  They walked on until Em found another grate. She pulled herself up and looked through for a long moment—Barren figured she was listening. Then, she slowly pushed the grate aside and soundlessly climbed out of the duct. Leaf followed next, and Barren lifted Larkin to the opening, while Leaf helped her to her feet. Barren was the last out, and he looked at their surroundings, finding them similar to the place they’d entered—dark, plain, and cold.

  They continued down the hallway, stopping every so often as the sound of shuffling feet and the clank of weapons reverberated off the walls. Barren kept a close eye on Larkin—she watched everything with unveiled fear. He started to reach out to her, but when her gaze met his, his hand faltered.

  “They won’t harm you,” he said.

  “You can’t promise that.”

  Maybe not, but he’d like to think he could.

  They continued down the hall. Barren found himself wondering exactly how Em knew her way around here…and how did she know to look for Devon? Had she been watching him? And if so, why?

  Em paused at the end of a hall and peered around the corner. She motioned for everyone to stay where they were and disappeared. The three heard a faint crack and shuffling. There was a click, and more snapping and shuffling. Barren assumed that was the sound of necks breaking. When Em returned, she motioned for them to follow. As he suspected, there was no one guarding the cells and the door stood wide-open. Barren looked around in the shadows, trying to guess where she might have hidden the bodies, but he saw no evidence of where she’d disposed of them. He swallowed thickly.

  She motioned for them to hurry inside the cells. Once there, she closed the door behind them. Like the rest of the tower, this place was dimly lit by torchlight. From here, Barren could see several halls twist before him. This place was hot, and when he breathed the air he felt as if it were full of toxins.

  “These are the cells,” said Em, she peered around, sword aloft. “Devon may be in here somewhere. The cells are like mazes, so be sure you are aware of your surroundings, and kill any guard you encounter. Let’s split up into pairs.”

  Em charged forward into the labyrinth without another word, and Leaf followed her. Barren took a step forward, taking one of the torches from the wall. He hesitated, turning to Larkin. “Are you coming?”

  “I’ll be fine here.”

  Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she leaned against the wall, as if she willed the shadows to consume her. He knew she was exhausted and shaken. He hated that he wanted to help her so much.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She looked at him and shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be here. I was wrong to come. You were wrong to come.”

  Barren swallowed, his teeth set tight. “Don’t sound like Leaf. You know I had to do this. And no one told you it was a good idea to come here.”

  Larkin pressed her lips together, and her eyes got brighter, but she didn’t say anything. Barren turned from her and made his way into an adjoining hallway. Several passages branched off to his left. Each one was l
ined with barred cells. Some were lit by torchlight, and others were left in shadow. As he managed his way down this hall, he moved slowly, listening carefully for any signs of life. What he found so frightening was that there were none: he heard no breaths, no cries—nothing. If anyone was here, they were all dead.

  That thought didn’t sit well with Barren, not that much in Estrellas did.

  He was halfway down the hall when an odor accosted his nose and he gagged.

  “Oh, God,” he grabbed a handful of his cloak and put it to his face. “What is this place?”

  He moved farther down the hallway, and the passages to his right were all darkened. The farther he went, the stronger the smell became. Bile rose in this throat, and his eyes watered. He knew what it was—it was the smell of death, but he moved toward it. What if it was Devon? How would he know? He only had a description from Alex, and by the looks of things, men who entered Estrellas didn’t come out resembling who they once were.

  He came to the last row and pushed his light into the shadow. The first cell had three bodies in it. Barren could only assume they were dead. They hung by their hands, suspended by chains. Their heads rested against their chests, and blood colored their faces. A lump rose in his throat, and he moved on to the next, but he did not approach it with the torch—the odor came from here. All he could see was a hand twisted around the base of the bars holding the corpse inside. He could no longer hold the bile down. Tossing the torch aside, Barren hurried away, vomiting in the hall. The acid burned his throat and nose, and the smell of death seemed to cling to him, making everything worse. He would never forget this nightmare.

  He rose with his sword, wiping his mouth. Suddenly, panic filled him: they had to get out of here. Devon might be their only link to the bloodstone, but surely their sanity, surely their lives were far more important than that stone. Larkin was right. Leaf was right.