Cutlass (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Barren made his way back to where he had left Larkin, but the passage was empty.

  “Damn it!” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands. He moved down the hallway in the direction Leaf and Em had gone. “Larkin, where are you?” he whispered hurriedly.

  Barren rounded the corner, and there he found Larkin—her hands were tied behind her back, and she was on her knees. Behind her stood her father, Lord Christopher Lee.

  “Barren Reed. Nice to finally meet you.”

  Pain spread through the back of Barren’s head, and all went dark.

  ***

  Barren was only half-conscious, but he knew something was wrong. As he opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the pain in his wrists. The feeling was intense, and he realized it was what had awakened him from his sleep. He hung suspended by iron chains, and now the metal was biting into his skin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the back of his head began to pulse violently. Barren struggled for a moment, but as his vision cleared, he stopped, realizing that Larkin was lying on the ground before him, motionless.

  “Larkin! Larkin!” Barren thrashed in his chains, causing the metal to bite into his wrists, but he didn’t notice, because Larkin still wasn’t moving.

  His desperate cries were met with laughter.

  “She isn’t going to answer you...not yet, at least,” William’s voice came from the darkness.

  “What did you do?” Barren demanded. William came into view; his dark eyes were full of hatred. He hadn’t changed much since Barren saw him last, but it was evident he hadn’t been inland in a while. William’s features were haggard and whiskers covered a portion of his chin. He had exchanged his noble suits for clothes more fitting of a sailor—a white shirt, brown pants and black boots. In his hand he held a long black whip. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the wound Larkin had left him with back in Conn.

  “She tried to fight for you. While it was noble, it was foolish,” said William, his tone mocking Barren. “And she fell. Not to worry, she is still alive.”

  William unleashed the long whip. Its tail landed on the floor and Barren cringed. The pirate had been stabbed, cut and shot, but he had never been whipped, and he dreaded the feeling.

  “Hold now,” Christopher Lee said as he entered the cell. He approached the still form of his daughter. Refusing to favor pirates, he opted to wear a blue suit, decorated with gold buttons and tailored cords. In his hand he held a metal bucket. “I have to see this for myself.”

  Taking the bucket, he aimed the contents at Larkin. Water washed over her and she woke, coughing and breathing as if she had been drowning. Christopher was beside her instantly, and he held her face between his hands, forcing her to look at Barren.

  “Father,” for a moment, she was confused. Then, she realized what was happening, and she became more frantic. “Father, no!”

  Christopher’s eyes were dark and thoughtless. William cracked his whip and the sound made Barren flinch. He gritted his teeth together in preparation for the blow. But nothing could have prepared him for the sting of the leather against his flesh. He could feel his skin split. Warm blood seeped from his burning flesh, running in rivers down his chest. The sound he made was one he had never heard escape his lips.

  “No!” Larkin tried to yell, but her voice was raspy and weak. Tears slid down her face, unchecked and forgotten as the whip sounded again. Barren struggled in the grasp of the iron.

  “Stop!” Larkin was desperate, she tried to pry her father’s hands from her face, but the harder she tried, the tighter he held. Every time Larkin begged, the violence of William’s lash grew, as if to match her grief.

  “The more you beg for him, the more he will hurt!” yelled William, whirling around to face her. The whip dripped with Barren’s blood, unforgiving and morbid. Christopher let go of his daughter. Larkin moved into the corner, away from her father.

  “Leave her alone!” Barren growled through his pain.

  “What are you going to do?” mocked William. “Kill him?”

  “You betrayed me!” Lee’s voice resonated through the cell. “You...you ran off with this pirate, chose him over your fiancé and now I find you begging for his life. What do you take me for?”

  “You’re a monster!” she said through her teeth. “You went along with the lie of my death....all so he could be king!” She jabbed a finger in William’s direction. “What kind of father are you?”

  “If a daughter’s manners are the judge, a very bad one,” replied Christopher evenly.

  “Manners?” Larkin piqued. “You used me! Used me! And I am to blame for my anger?”

  “I did not use you for anything. This is how the world works: it is not your place to choose your husband,” said Lee evenly.

  “I won’t marry him. I will not be his wife or his queen!”

  In retaliation for those words, William’s whip bit into Barren’s skin over and over again. The louder Larkin begged for his freedom, the harder William seemed to swing his whip. Barren had no energy left to fight the pain, or even react to it.

  “Stop!” Lee ordered. “Stop!”

  William stumbled back, and threw his whip in the corner, disgusted by it. Barren wanted to be dead. He would have relished in that numbness. Instead, his body was alive with shock.

  Someone unlocked his shackles one-by-one and he fell to the hard, cobble floor.

  “Barren!”

  He opened his eyes to see Christopher holding Larkin back. He had seen Larkin afraid, but this fear was deeper, and it was for him. To ease her panic a little, he tried to raise himself up on his hands and knees, but his limbs shook so violently, he collapsed. Lying there, he heard William and Christopher speak.

  “We are wasting time here, leave him to die,” said Lee. William didn’t say anything. He only glared at the old man. “We must search for Devon Kennings. We’ve been delayed far too long. Take the girl with you.” He sounded disgusted as he pushed her forward. “We will head to Cape Oceaniana after this.”

  William and Larkin left, and Lee crouched down beside Barren. He could see every line of the old man’s face. He placed something around Barren’s neck—something red. As he looped the ends around, Barren realized it was Larkin’s scarf. Then the fabric tightened around his neck. The pressure increased, and Barren clawed at Lee’s hands, but it was of no use—for someone so old, he was strong and full of hate.

  “You think you can kidnap my daughter and seduce her? Break her?” The words were cold and each syllable lingered like frost. Lee let go of the scarf, and Barren gasped for breath, his body heaved. Lee placed his knee on Barren’s chest before he could recover, and produced a needle. Barren could tell something about it was strange—it was black and thick, tapered at the end. He reached for Barren’s hand and touched the needle to his finger.

  “The effects will be slow, but once they take hold, they will never let go.”

  Barren watched as Christopher straightened and moved out of his line of vision. Barren felt as though Lee’s knee was on his chest again—the pressure was heavy and uncomfortable. Then, his heart rate began to slow, though the beats were like explosions, painfully pumping the poison through his chest.

  “Leaf!” He pushed himself up and began to crawl toward the door, but an acidic taste in his mouth caused him to heave. His limbs were weak, and numbing quickly. He collapsed by the doorway. His last effort was a scream—it was deep, gurgling, and frightening for those who heard it. It was the sound of the pain of defeat…of fear.

  “Don’t let them take her!”

  “Barren!” The pirate could no longer see, but he knew Leaf’s voice.

  “Barren, give me some sign you are alive,” the Elf’s hand was on his face, checking his forehead for fever. Automatically, the Elf picked up his hand and examined the needle-sized wound. “This is not good.”

  Barren wanted to say something, but he could feel the words being sucked out of him, muddled together in a mind riddled with poison. There
was nothing else for him to do but sleep.

  Barren was on a beach he didn’t recognize. The sand beneath his feet was pale and like velvet. He had never felt such soft sand. He glanced around: before him were trees. They were thick and dark but above them rose tall mountains, their peaks shrouded in clouds. It was beautiful but foreboding. Barren shivered. He turned and his heart dropped into his stomach. Before him in the ocean were several ships, all broken and beaten. They littered the coastline, as if an invisible line destroyed all things daring to come its way. There was one that had made it, and it stood still next to the only port. It was a massive ship with huge white sails and it was the only thing Barren recognized—his father’s ship.

  A figure walked slowly off the boarding plank and onto the dock. He was lordly, but dressed as a pirate. His jacket was brown, a white shirt beneath. He wore brown pants and black boots. A leather hat covered his head, but hair hung at his shoulders, bleached by the sun, and his skin was bronzed, too. It was Barren’s father, and all he could do was run to him.

  “Father!”

  Jess laughed when he saw Barren, a wide smile on his face. He stooped to one knee, holding out his arms to embrace him. Barren hurried to his father, hugging him around the neck.

  “Father!” behind him a younger William ran toward them—about the age of thirteen. He embraced his brother and his father, and Jess laughed deeply.

  “I see my boys are growing.” His eyes shone with life Barren didn’t remember. “Come.” Jess stood, the hands of his sons in each of his.

  “Father, you must fight me,” said William. “I will show you I have improved. I will beat you.”

  “Oh? And who has been giving you lessons?”

  “I have been teaching myself in your absence. I fight with mother.”

  Barren’s heart began to race when William spoke of their mother. Did he remember her?

  “Well then,” said Jess as they reached the shore. “Let’s fight.”

  Jess unsheathed his sword and William did the same. Will was shorter than Jess, but only by a few inches, and he had been practicing daily, sometimes for hours straight. Barren was too young to understand Will’s wish to fight better, or his determination to prove to their father he could fight just as well as him, but he knew it had started at a young age. Now Jess and William stood opposite one another, swords poised, ready to fight. William charged at Jess, but all he did was move aside and hit the top of William’s sword. The pirate laughed as William stumbled forward.

  “You’re too passionate a fighter,” said Jess and William whirled around. The young man growled and charged after his father again. This time his sword met Jess’s and the clash of metal was fierce and powerful.

  “You act as if I am your enemy.”

  “I will be fighting enemies, won’t I?” countered Will quickly, trying to deflect Jess’s easy movements.

  Jess sighed and hit Will’s blade with all his strength. The blade flew from the young boy’s hands and into the sand, too far for him to reach. He was left to stare into his father’s eyes. “You fight with hatred,” said the pirate. “Why?”

  “I fight to win!”

  “But you didn’t win,” said Jess. “You fight without a goal, only anger.” Jess stuck his sword in the ground. “When you can fight with a goal, I will fight you again.”

  Barren and William watched the image of their father head to the dark forest before them.

  “I will never be good enough,” said William, staring at the sand.

  Barren looked up at his brother.

  “Father loves you...you should listen to him.”

  William turned his gaze on Barren. It was filled with anger and disappointment. “Father will never be proud of me because I am not like him. You are like him, Barren. You will always be his advocate, and he yours.”

  A crease formed between Barren’s brows. “I don’t understand.”

  “You will one day...we are not alike, you and I.”

  “We’re brothers.”

  “Yes,” William nodded. “But we will never be the same.”

  Suddenly, their surroundings changed, and the image before Barren was that of Conn. Barren hid behind a coil of rope and peered out at the scene of his brother sneaking up on Jess. It was the same fear that paralyzed him before—he was shocked, and wanted to cry out, but he couldn’t speak. He stared, wide-eyed, watching his father’s death again—Jess, jerking in pain, falling to the ground and William running from his father’s dead body— and he was reminded of William’s words.

  We will never be the same...and they weren’t.

  ***

  Barren opened his eyes. Pure, white light flooded his room. The covers, like silk against his skin, were pale green; the walls were made of earthy-stone and gleamed with gold as the sunlight washed over them. He was not on a ship.

  He sat up rigidly, his body stiff. The memory of what had happened flooded his mind: He had made a mistake. It was a mistake to enter Estrellas, and while it might not be his fault that Larkin was taken, guilt pierced him like a knife. His chest tightened, and unchecked shivers ran down his arms when he recalled her cries as she begged William and her father to leave him alone. He wasn’t sure what punishment she would face for her betrayal, but they would attempt to break her of her favoritism.

  Barren had to save her. This time, it wasn’t about the code.

  He pushed his legs out from under the covers and onto the cool floor. His body felt rigid and little shocks of pain shot through him. As he looked up, he caught his reflection in a mirror that ran from floor to ceiling—it was one of several along the walls, breaking apart the windows. It was the first time he had seen himself since arriving in Estrellas. He was bandaged up—arms, chest, abdomen—and some of the white stripes were stained with blood. His face was pale and haggard, his eye still bruised slightly. He never remembered looking so rough, even after some of his worst fights.

  As he was about to stand, he noticed only two things rested on his side table—a wooden cup filled with a brown liquid that still steamed vigorously, and a crimson scarf...Larkin’s scarf. It had come to represent many things for him. Carefully, Barren gathered the piece of fabric into his hands. It was soft to the touch, vibrant, and...bloody. Barren cringed and crushed the fabric between his hands. Horrific flashes of that black whip curling around his body jolted him. He could hear Larkin’s screams echoing in his ears. He had never been as helpless as that night.

  As Barren stood, he heard a clear voice behind him.

  “Drink,” it said. He turned and saw Cove sitting in a chair in the corner. He was dressed all in black; a very strange contrast to the brightness of the room, though it seemed to make his eyes all the more vibrant.

  Barren reached for the cup slowly. The wood was warm against his skin, and as he placed the drink to his lips, he was overwhelmed with the scent of mint and sandalwood. He drank, and the liquid burned, but only for a moment. Suddenly, all the stiffness that paralyzed his joints was gone.

  “Where are we?” he asked, putting the cup down. He kept the crimson scarf in his hands, running it through his fingers.

  “In Aurum,” replied the Ambassador. “Leaf thought it was best since you were near death when we found you.”

  “Found me?”

  “Yes, Leaf found you...in the cells of the tower.” Barren struggled to remember. Everything after Lee’s little trick with the needle was a blur. “Leaf said only the Elves could heal you then. He didn’t have enough supplies to deal with your wounds or that poison.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “With his father,” said Cove. “He has been for some time. I am not sure we are welcome here, but because you were near death, Lord Alder didn’t refuse.”

  Silence settled like a cold breeze in the room. Barren would never have expected to be welcome here in Aurum, mostly because of his tainted blood. Now that he knew more about his mother, however, he imagined Lord Alder saw his stay as a threat. The Elfin Lord had worked ha
rd to banish any memory of the Lyrics, and Barren’s presence threatened to unearth those memories.

  The pirate swallowed hard and moved away from the bed toward a wall of arched, glassless windows. He walked slowly. Though his legs didn’t cause him pain now that he had drunk the Elvish medicine, they still didn’t want to move properly.

  Barren studied the courtyard outside his window. It was beautiful and bright, like his room. Several willow trees kept it secluded and personal. A statue of pure white stone stood at the center of the courtyard in the shape of a beautiful woman. She was clad in robes that seemed to flutter around her, and long white hair rose in tangled disarray like a halo. Graceful hands covered her heart...and indeed, it did seem like she was sad, for her eyes were downcast, and her mouth pulled into a solemn frown.

  “They tortured you.” Cove stated and Barren cringed visibly. He didn’t want to talk about what they did to him. That wasn’t important.

  “She begged for my life, Cove.” Barren shook his head; he glanced briefly at the Ambassador, and then stared into the bright courtyard again. “I must find her,” he twisted the scarf around his hands. “They will hurt her.”

  “That’s what they want you to think,” said Cove. “Christopher would never hurt Larkin.”

  “I can’t believe that,” said Barren. “He is a cruel man.”

  “Barren.” Cove stood, his black cloak unfolded behind him, and he was frightening, though Barren knew he was only desperate for him to listen and understand. “You showed Reed and Lee that you had a weakness. You know not to underestimate those two—and here you are, doing exactly that! They know they can lure you wherever they go if they have Larkin.”

  Cove was quiet for a moment. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a low breath.

  “What I’m trying to tell you is that you’re forgetting she was your prisoner. She’s home now, and we’re after the bloodstone, nothing more, nothing less. “

  “I didn’t ask you to come!”

  His shouting gave way to tension and silence. All of Barren’s strength seemed to be in the words he had spoken, and suddenly he felt weak: his shoulders fell, and a heaviness settled in his chest. Maybe part of it was the realization that he would never be able to continue forward against his brother or Christopher Lee without help. Cove also had a point—Larkin wasn’t his to rescue. Technically, she was home.