Cutlass (Cutlass Series)

by Ashley Nixon

  Just as easily as Barren saw their images, they were gone and his body was being shaken. He opened his eyes, and the blurry image of Cove Rowell was over him.

  “Barren! Barren! I swear to Saoirse if you don’t wake up, I’ll kill you!”

  “Leave it to him to be sleeping on the job,” he heard Leaf add.

  Barren pushed Cove’s hands away. “I’m awake!” he growled, but his hands felt rough and hot and his head hurt. He sat there for a moment, recalling what had happened before he fell unconscious. All he could remember was blood and fire…and then the clear image of his parents.

  Suddenly he looked around for the compass. “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” asked Cove. He stood up straight, his arms folded over his chest.

  Barren was on his hands and knees. A few feet before him, he saw the compass. He reached, grasping the long gold chain in his hand and he turned it over quickly. Ash blackened where the raw red stone had been. Relief flooded him—they had succeeded, but just as suddenly as he felt relief, it was replaced by dread. They had succeeded, they had lived…so what oath had dark magic bound them to?

  Barren turned the compass over and stared at its face. The needle bounded back and forth. It was broken. He placed the chain around his neck and hid the pendant under his shirt.

  He looked up at Cove whose brow was raised in question, but he said nothing as he extended his hand to the pirate and helped him to his feet.

  “What happened?” asked Barren, looking around.

  The room looked nothing like he remembered. Before it had been dark and cold, and now it was alight with the day—all the windows were uncovered, and streaming rays illuminated dusty particles in the air. Parts of the wall were blackened, and smoke still rose from the marks, as if something had scorched them. The raised pyre was still there, only it had been concealed by a velvet cover, so that the body resting inside had peace.

  “You tell us,” said Cove. “We found you and Larkin sprawled on the ground, and thought you were dead. You both had pieces of glass stuck in your skin. If you look at the walls you can see where the hot shards burned into the stone.”

  Barren started to touch his face, but Leaf slapped his hand away.

  “You’ll irritate the burns,” he said. “It could have been worse. The shards could have been bigger, pierced your eye or your heart.”

  Barren rubbed the back of his neck.

  “You sure you’re all right?” asked Cove.

  “Yeah, I am fine,” Barren said lightly. “Where are the twins?”

  “The twins and Christopher are being watched by Alex and Devon.”

  “Christopher? He’s all right?” Barren was sure he wouldn’t see Christopher again, not after that snake carried him off.

  “Yes, as far as we could tell. We came upon him in the forest, chopping a giant snake to pieces. I think he was scared out of his wits, because he let us take him hostage. He didn’t demand that we let him go. He only asked for Larkin.”

  Barren’s heart picked up pace. “Where is Larkin?”

  “She is in the courtyard below. She found it earlier and hasn’t left since.”

  Barren was about to move past Cove when the Ambassador stopped him and nodded toward William’s body. “Did you?”

  “No,” Barren shook his head, and gave his brother a remorseful stare. “No, I didn’t.”

  Cove nodded his head once in understanding and let Barren leave the throne room.

  It took Barren some time to find the courtyard Cove had spoken of. He’d ambled down the halls of the Lyric castle, watching as the dust danced in the air, and the sunlight tarnished the walls. He could no longer feel the intense pull of the bloodstone calling to him, but there was still magic here. He almost hated that he could feel it.

  At last, he came to the end of a hall that opened onto a wide terrace. Here, Barren stood before magnificence. Mountains rose in tall peaks and the clouds seemed to be only a few feet from him; their backdrop was a bright blue sky. The courtyard that rested before him was filled with yellowed grass. Images of what it had once been were still visible—tall stone arches made a walkway into the yard, and pieces of the same stone fashioned ruined monuments. One of those monuments, a woman with her hands over her heart, peered back at Barren from the entryway.

  He stepped outside into the sunlight, and was overcome with a variety of smells—that of crisp, cold air, and decay. As he moved along, examining every inch of what used to be his mother’s home, he wondered what it had looked like before it fell to ruin.

  At last he found the figure he was searching for. In the distance, he saw Larkin’s back. She was hunched before a piece of stone, her legs drawn up and her chin resting on her knees. He approached her carefully, watching as her hair twisted in the wind. He stood beside her; his shadow crossed a gravestone marked with her mother’s name. Larkin didn’t look up at him, and he knew why—he could hear her quiet sobs as she tried desperately to wipe her tears away.

  Barren bent to his knees and sat beside her, pulling her into his arms and soothing her uncontrollable tears.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked. “I have never cried over her before.”

  “I understand.”

  Barren held her until the sun dimmed, and the clouds above grew a little darker. She pulled away, wiping more tears from her puffy eyes. He could see the marks on her face where the shards of the gem had burned her skin. He wanted to reach up and touch them, brush them away and forget that he had dragged her into this life…but without her, none of this—this triumph, this heartache, this hope—would be possible.

  “I found her,” she said, gesturing toward the stone. “I didn’t think she was here. I’m so glad she is.”

  Barren nodded. “Me too.”

  They both looked at the stone. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said at last. “I couldn’t let him kill you. It’s ironic that I would be the one to deal the deadly blow when I protested his death so feverishly.”

  “It was not your fault, Larkin, and for all that it’s worth, I am glad you were there to save my life,” he paused for a moment and chuckled. “I think we’re two for two now.”

  She smiled faintly, still fighting tears.

  “Will you stay with me?” Barren asked so suddenly, the question surprising him, too.

  “What?” she asked. He studied her face—her lips parted, and her hair stuck to her wet cheeks, but her tears paused for a moment.

  “Will you stay with me? Will you sail the Orient with me?” he began to clarify. “I know a pirate’s life isn’t glamorous, and I cannot always offer you the best protection, but you can take care of yourself, and…” his voice faltered as he began to ramble and he exhaled sharply. “Please stay.”

  Larkin laughed, and then rubbed her face. “Yes,” she nodded her head. “Yes, of course I’ll stay. Oh!”

  She threw her arms around him, and they tumbled into the yellow grass. Barren wrapped his arms around her, grateful that they had survived everything. Grateful that, after this long and arduous road, he still managed to have Larkin by his side, even if she had been the most difficult female he had ever encountered.

  ***

  William’s body rested in the dinghy comfortably, though the look on his face was not one of peace. The more Barren observed his dead brother, the more he wished he had spent the last few years doing something other than seeking revenge for his father’s murder. If only he had known then what he knew now—that this would not bring peace, only heartache and a deep wish that nothing had ever come between them.

  He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Leaf.

  “Do not burden yourself with the way things could have been,” he said. “He’s in the otherworld now. That is the ultimate form of Saoirse.”

  Of all people, Leaf knew that best. Barren nodded and then moved to the head of the boat. Together, he and Cove pushed the dinghy into the Orient’s waters. She rushed forward and grasped the ship with all her strength
and propelled him along.

  Leaf stood with his bow and arrow. Alex dabbed a few drops of oil onto a piece of cloth and tied it to the Elf’s arrow while Hollow sparked flint against a stone. The flaming arrow was released into the air and landed with ease in the bed of hay where William rested. Flames erupted and consumed William’s body. The pirates stared as the boat was taken away over the horizon. William would sleep eternally where he belonged—with the sea.

  ***

  Barren walked the length of the deck, watching as his crew worked—Slay labored up the tall mast, heading for the crow’s nest, Seamus inspected cannons and ammunition, Sam took the helm, and Leaf checked the sails. Cove, Hollow and his crew had taken on the duties of the twins, who remained below deck with Christopher, chained to the wall. Alex had pulled himself up on a barrel and removed the wooden peg from the end of his leg all while reminiscing with Devon and Em.

  Barren came to the back of the ship, his eyes taking in the waning image of the island they had labored to reach. He almost felt that he was leaving a piece of himself behind. It was strange to have felt the power of the bloodstone call out to him, strange to feel it pulse in his hands—and now all that had faded, and what it left behind was a surprising emptiness.

  “The name is D’Avana,” Devon’s voice rasped.

  Barren turned to face the old man. Em was at his side. They were both watching the last bit of mountain disappear at the horizon.

  “D’Avana?” asked Barren.

  “The island of light and dust,” said Em.

  Light and dust. Barren had heard that before—from Illiana. She’d said she was of light and dust.

  “Do you remember everything?”

  Devon shook his head. “No, but I will let time give me back my memory—I am not too eager to remember the folly of my past.”

  “How many were there? How many Elves were like my mother?”

  Devon shrugged. “I do not know, but if I were an Elf with the power that the Lyrics possessed, I would not tell a soul. It comes with too many responsibilities, too many expectations.”

  Em smiled at Barren, then she and Devon moved away from him. He turned his gaze to the horizon again. He hadn’t thought about the prospect of there being more than three Lyrics. If no one knew exactly how many there were, how could anyone truly know if they were all dead? They’d already been wrong once. The thought bothered him more than he liked, and he pushed it away quickly.

  Larkin approached and filled the space beside him. She didn’t speak, but Barren could feel the tension rise between them and knew she had something to say.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she leaned over the rail as if to get a better look at the Orient. At first Barren thought she would express more grief about William’s death, but the conversation took a different turn.

  “I saw my mother,” she said.

  “I saw my parents, too.”

  “You know what was strange?” she asked, staring at him. “I saw my father, too. It was an image of them together. They were happy. They loved each other, Barren.”

  Barren understood—Tetherion’s words had been that they had used the Lyrics to gain what they wanted, disregarding all attachment easily.

  “My father is going along with a lie and I don’t know why.”

  “Perhaps he fears losing his title. Without his status, he has only one option: to become the thing he hates most in the world—a pirate.”

  “He did not mind that once,” she said quietly.

  “Then I’m not sure.” Barren couldn’t give her any more excuses for her father. “You can ask him.”

  She shook her head. “He will tell me nothing. In his eyes, I have chosen a side.”

  “Haven’t you?”

  She smiled, but it was a wistful smile. “I hope we are not always divided by sides,” she said. “But, yes, I suppose for now I have chosen Saoirse.”

  ***

  The sun was fading, casting orange rays of light over the stone courtyard. The rumor was that Barren Reed had been captured, and he, with his crew, were en route to Maris to face their deaths. Tetherion had received Datherious’s correspondence over a week ago informing him of their victory against Barren and their prompt return to Maris. Now, the courtyard was packed with people from all over Maris—the nobility crowded the balcony, while the peasants stood against each other, clustering around the gallows. Many were here because they did not believe the son of Jess Reed could be caught; they needed proof.

  Tetherion knew his people were watching him closely. When he’d returned to Maris to find them revolting, he’d promised them justice, and now he was bringing it—as soon as Barren handed him the bloodstone. Tetherion clenched his fists in anticipation of the exchange. He would be the most powerful man in the Orient—no one could oppose him: not his people, not the Elves and their magic, and certainly not the despicable spawn of his brother, Jess Reed.

  Trumpets sounded in the courtyard, and two lines of soldiers led a group of prisoners with hoods over their heads. The crowd roared with excitement, throwing vegetables, dirt, and rocks at the men who marched to their deaths. As the soldiers managed to make a path through the unruly throng, the prisoners stumbled along with difficulty, tripping over the chains that held them together. When one fell, the others would tumble down with them, lost in the darkness of their masks. It was almost impossible for the soldiers to get them to their feet again, as the crowd began to attack them—kicking, hitting or beating the prisoners with whatever was in their hands.

  The captives were led to the gallows, and the chain that linked them removed. The hangman placed each man beneath his respective noose, and then stood back as Tetherion got to his feet.

  “My people! Today you will witness justice! The tyrant Barren Reed has been captured and he will finally answer for his deeds!” There was a mixture of cheers and boos, and at Tetherion’s words, the prisoners began to wriggle in their bonds, their muffled screams filling the air. Tetherion smiled. “But before we hang these selfish men, you should be allowed to look upon the faces of these murderers. Witness the man who killed your loved ones, take revenge upon him in death! Remove their hoods!”

  The order came with a steady drumbeat as the guards returned to remove the hoods. The drumbeat ended and the masks were removed.

  “Get them out of those nooses!” Tetherion roared. “Barren Reed! Find Barren Reed!”

  The princes, Datherious and Natherious, stood with nooses around their necks, and their mouths gagged with cloth. Christopher Lee stood beside them, a scarlet scarf tied around his mouth.

  Tetherion’s rage stirred fear into the crowd and chaos ensued as the soldiers who led the prisoners into the courtyard rushed toward the exit, intent on finding the ship they had come from.

  Tetherion turned toward one of his guards who had come from the ports. “Who delivered the prisoners?” he snarled.

  “Why, Ambassador Cove Rowell of Arcarum, m’lord. Looks like Barren Reed fooled even him.”

  Tetherion’s eyes blazed and he tore through his guards, intent on heading for the port himself. A sudden explosion caused everyone to fall to their knees—but just as suddenly as fright had shocked their hearts, awe replaced it as colors of blue, yellow, green, and red burst into the sky—fireworks littered the inky night, meant as a celebration of Barren’s death.

  ***

  From their ship some distance from Maris, Barren and Larkin stood on deck, watching shimmering explosions of light in the sky—it was beautiful—it meant freedom, but it was also a signal to run.

  “Guess that means Tetherion knows,” said Larkin quietly as they watched various golds and reds illuminating the sky off the coast of the island she once called home. Barren grasped her hand and drew her close. She rested her head against his chest, comforted by the sound of his heartbeat.

  “Are you sad?”

  “No,” she said. “Though I never thought I would have to run for m
y life.”

  “It’s really not so bad.”

  “Says the man who has been a fugitive since birth!”

  “True, you are the only one who is new to that title, Lady Larkin,” he mused.

  “I cannot very well be a lady and a fugitive at the same time, can I?”

  She pulled away from him, and Barren placed a finger against his cheek as he thought. “Well, you can be my lady and a fugitive to the government all the same.”

  “What do you intend to do now?”

  Larkin didn’t finish the sentence, but Barren knew what should come next…now that William is dead. Now that your vengeance is realized. That still made Barren’s stomach turn. The thing he’d waited five years for was bitter and tasteless.

  “You may disagree with my decision.”

  “And why would that be a surprise?” she asked, a smile turning the corners of her mouth, and Barren’s matched hers briefly before his eyes became somber.

  “I am waging my own war against the crown. I will do as my father did and impede the king’s efforts for power, slavery, or anything I find in conflict with Saoirse.”

  “So where will you begin?”

  “With the impostors, the privateers,” said Barren. “I’ve no desire to see them taint what I stand for any longer.”

  “Will you kill these men?”

  “I do not know,” Barren said honestly. “If either I or my crew is threatened, I will not hesitate to end a life.”

  Larkin regarded Barren in silence.

  “If you come with me, you may see things you never wished to see. Things that might make you wish you had never agreed to accompany me.”

  “Perhaps those things will be true,” Larkin said, taking one step closer to Barren. “Or perhaps you will be ever-vigilant in reminding me why I chose the life of a pirate.”

  He smiled at her and then kissed her. It was a little simpler now, a little easier, and yet there was still something so new about her mouth against his—something that caused his stomach to flutter and his chest to pull tight with anxiety. Heat flooded his face, and soon his entire body felt like a hot spring. He pulled away, staring into Larkin’s eyes, glazed with passion.