The Guardians of Island X

by Rachelle Delaney

“We must have been chasing one of them the other day!”

  And on her shoulder she’d had—

  “That’s it!” Jem snapped his fingers again, picturing the girl’s bow. She was the one who had shot at the King’s Man and pinned his coat to the tree. He knew it couldn’t have been Smitty!

  Feeling like a brilliant detective, Jem turned around and marched back to the clearing. He would show the crew what had been under their noses all along.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It wasn’t that Scarlet didn’t want to believe Jem. Her brain was just so full of questions (When to pay attention to a creature in distress? How to teach the aras to hang on to their rubies? How to fight off and/or attack Lucas and his crew? What the flotsam to do about her father?) that she feared one more might make it explode.

  But the look on Jem’s face when he returned to the clearing told her she had better take this one seriously. If he was right and there really were Islanders on Island X, it would change everything.

  “All right, Fitz,” she said. “Show me.”

  She told the spying mission to wait a few minutes and followed Jem into the jungle—to the spot where the King’s Man had killed the pig the day before.

  “Look. There are two arrows here. There’s this one.” He picked up an arrow from the jungle floor. Too thick and crooked to fly in a straight line, it had obviously been carved clumsily and in haste. “And there’s that one over there.” He led her to the tree where the King’s Man’s coat still hung. “This second one is perfect. You can’t tell me it belongs to Smitty. I know he means well, but he’s no fletcher.” When Scarlet raised an eyebrow, he added, “That’s an Old World name for someone who makes arrows.”

  Scarlet’s stomach turned a somersault. The second arrow was straight and smooth, its head a sharp black stone.

  “Captain,” Jem said seriously, “this was the job of an expert.”

  Scarlet bit her lip and whispered, “You’re right.” She looked from the arrow to Jem. “But then…where are they?”

  “I don’t know,” Jem said. “But I’m starting to think they’re never far away.”

  Scarlet shook her head in amazement. Islanders, here all along, and she hadn’t even felt their presence. “They must be first-class spies,” she murmured. And she couldn’t help but wonder if they’d recognized her.

  Jem nodded. “I bet the girl will be back for her arrow and this coat, too. She seems to make her clothes out of Old World cloth and plants. Actually, I think she used your coat for her dress.”

  “My coat!” Scarlet cried. “My stolen coat?”

  Jem nodded. “So maybe we should wait here until they come back, although who knows how long that’ll be.”

  “A girl and her brother,” Scarlet said. Who were they? Could they be childhood friends? Or…cousins? Dazed, she nodded. If there really were Islanders on Island X, she had to meet them—even if it meant putting the pirates on hold for an hour or two.

  She chose a large plant with heart-shaped leaves and crouched behind it, moving over so Jem could sit beside her.

  “I hope this works,” he whispered.

  They rustled around, checking for snakes and spiders and getting comfortable on the forest floor. Then they settled into silence, passing the time by watching leaf-cutter ants march single file across the dirt. Each one carried a tiny piece of a leaf on its back. Scarlet felt their stoic determination, and it reminded her of the King’s Men.

  That brought her father to mind. His refusal to remember his past still made her want to throw things. If he would only try, it would all come back to him—of that she was certain. Maddening, maddening grown-up.

  Grown-ups. Scarlet sat up straight as a wild and wonderful thought came to mind. If these children were indeed Islanders, could some grown-ups have survived as well? Namely, her mother?

  Don’t get your hopes up, she told herself firmly. One thing at a time. And yet, wouldn’t it be amazing…

  Jem’s head lolled beside her, and she poked him in the ribs to wake him up. He grimaced and crossed his eyes. Scarlet stifled a laugh and touched her tongue to her nose. Jem puffed out his cheeks and pulled on his ears. Scarlet flipped her eyelids inside out.

  Jem looked horrified. “That’s disgusting!”

  “Shhh!” Scarlet raised her finger to her lips, then noticed the nice shadow it made on a nearby tree. Jem noticed it, too. He twisted his hands into the shape of a bird in flight and made the shadow fly across the tree trunk.

  “Jolly!” Scarlet mouthed. She added a bouncing rabbit to the scene. Then Jem transformed his bird into a dog and turned it on her rabbit. A frenzied chase ensued, and they were mere seconds away from bursting into laughter when they heard a soft padding just beyond the ferns. Rabbit and dog froze in mid-chase, and they slowly, soundlessly, turned back into fingers. Scarlet parted the ferns as quietly as she could and looked out.

  Her stomach turned another somersault at the sight: A girl, perhaps a year older than her, was sneaking toward the arrow in the tree. She had long black hair like Scarlet’s, but without the tangles. Behind her trotted a boy, even smaller than the smallest Lost Soul. Scarlet’s heart began to pound again. Jem nudged her, mouthing, “Do something.”

  Trembling, she rose and cleared her throat. “Hello.”

  The children whirled around to face her. Jem stood up as well. The girl, caught with her hand on the arrow, froze for a moment, then in one swift motion yanked it from the tree, grabbed her bow, and drew its string back to her eye, pointing the arrow right at Scarlet’s face.

  “Oh!” Scarlet threw her hands up. “Don’t do that! We don’t mean any harm. We…oh scurvy.” Now would be a perfect time to remember my old language, she thought, taking a slow step back from the pointy object aimed at her nose.

  Beside her, Jem raised his arms as well. “Can you talk to them?” he hissed.

  “Obviously not, or I’d be doing it!” Scarlet shot back. Think, think, think, she urged herself. But no words came.

  The girl muttered something to her brother, then motioned for him to get behind her. They began to move backward.

  “Wait! Don’t go!” Scarlet stepped forward and found herself with an arrow an inch away from her left eye. “Okaaaay…” She stepped back again. Blasted memory. Blasted language. Blasted father for making her forget. She decided to try English, anyway. “Look, I’m Scarlet…I mean, Ara! My Islander name is Ara. And this is Fitz, er…Jem. We don’t want to harm you, I swear. We’re here to protect the island. You see, it’s my home, too. You might not remember, but we probably all grew up together.”

  The girl blinked but didn’t lower her weapon.

  “I don’t think she remembers,” Jem whispered.

  “Thanks, Fitz,” Scarlet replied through clenched teeth. She decided to simplify things. Poking herself in the chest, she said, “Ara.” Poking Jem, she said, “Jem.”

  The girl muttered something to her brother, who nodded and replied.

  “What do you think they’re saying?” Jem whispered.

  The girl gave Scarlet a scornful look, gestured to her trousers and dirty shirt, then shook her head at the boy. Scarlet’s ears burned. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t the warm welcome she would have liked.

  But before she could say anything more, the children turned and zipped off into the jungle.

  “Wait!” Scarlet gasped. “Don’t go!”

  “Should we go after them?” Jem looked ready for another chase.

  Scarlet shook her head. “If we chase them, it’ll just scare them even more.”

  “Oh.” He looked dejected. “But if we don’t, no one’ll believe us.”

  Scarlet watched some branches shake where the Islanders had pushed through them. She remembered the way the children had looked at her and how it felt to flounder for words she had completely forgotten.

  Her anger began to simmer again.

  “I’m going for a walk,” she announced. And she turned to her right and pushed her way into
the trees.

  “Oh. Okay,” Jem said to her back.

  He began to say something else, but she ignored it. She only had one thing on her mind: The sole person on Island X who could help her remember what he had once made her forget. If he would only try.

  It was early afternoon by the time Scarlet reached the cluster of gray canvas tents. She stopped and looked around, suddenly realizing that marching up to her father and demanding some language lessons might not be as simple as it sounded. First off, she had to find him without attracting his crew’s attention. A few King’s Men were chatting off to her right, so she sneaked toward them for clues.

  “Come on, Donovan,” a young man sitting on an overturned pail said to another standing before him. Scarlet recognized the one seated as the yellow-bellied boy she’d followed through the jungle a few days before. “You’re sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing?”

  “Imagine it? Imagine it?” the other man exclaimed. “You think I just left my coat behind by accident? Ask Collins and Watt. They saw it.” He stepped toward the man on the pail. “Listen to me. Us and those pirates, we aren’t the only ones on this island.”

  “So there are spirits,” the yellow-belly scoffed. “How much harm can they do? I say we march right back there and drag that pig home. I’m hungry.”

  Donovan shook his head. “Not me. No, sir. You can face those spirits—or whatever they are—yourself.”

  The yellow-belly laughed. “What did the admiral say when you told him?” He jerked his thumb toward a very large tent off to Scarlet’s left.

  That was just too easy, she thought, and turned in that direction.

  Donovan harrumphed. “Told me that next time we follow him without his permission, he’ll see to it that we never leave camp again.”

  Good, Scarlet thought. Although I personally would keelhaul you.

  The yellow-belly snorted. “At least he’ll be gone soon. If you ask me, the old man should’ve retired years ago.” Donovan shushed him.

  Retired? Scarlet paused. The admiral? Had the life of a King’s Man finally worn him out? She shook her head; she had more pressing things to think about.

  Once hidden in the bushes beside his tent, she thought hard and fast. What would get his attention and draw him out? The idea that came to mind wasn’t exactly creative, but it would do. She began to search the ground for pebbles and lobbed them at her father’s tent.

  Sure enough, moments later, out he stomped, scowling left and right.

  Scarlet poked her head out of the bushes. “Father.”

  His eyes fell upon her, and his mouth fell open.

  “Scarlet!” he hissed, moving toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Meet me in the clearing,” she whispered, slithering backward out of the bushes.

  He met her there within minutes, breathing hard. “Scarlet, this is dangerous. You shouldn’t be—”

  “I know, I know.”

  “No, you don’t know. One of my men was almost killed yesterday. Nearly had his arm taken off by…” His voice trailed off as he watched her reaction. “Scarlet, tell me you weren’t involved with that.”

  “Well, I can tell you I didn’t shoot at him. But he deserved it after what he did. Killing the smelly wild pig and all.”

  “Smelly wild pig!” the admiral exclaimed, then lowered his voice again. “This isn’t a game, Scarlet. This is serious.”

  Scarlet took a deep breath to calm her temper. “Father. I need your help. This is more important than your man getting pegged to a tree.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “What is it?”

  She paused, then blurted out, “I need you to teach me the Islander language again.”

  “You need…what?” He looked bewildered. “Why? Scarlet, I don’t remember any of that. It’s gone.” He said the last two words as if each one weighed a ton, then looked away.

  “Look, this is important. Couldn’t you at least try?” She considered telling him about the Islander children but decided against it. What if he wanted to see them? That would just frighten them even more.

  “Try? No, I can’t try. It’s a waste of time!”

  “Please? I know that if you thought hard—”

  He shook his head. “No. There’s nothing left in me. I don’t remember.”

  “It is in you,” Scarlet insisted, not caring that she was raising her voice. “I found memories inside me even though you tried to erase them all. Blimey, Father, I had even forgotten my own mother!”

  The admiral spun to face her. “Don’t you bring her into this! I won’t talk about her.”

  “Well, I—”

  “You don’t understand.” His voice was hard and jagged like his face. “You can’t begin to understand what it’s like knowing that you were the reason your wife and her entire family, her entire village died.”

  Scarlet froze. “What? What are you talking about?”

  He turned away again, and his shoulders sagged.

  “You didn’t do it, Father,” Scarlet whispered, her anger fading fast. “You didn’t bring the fever yourself.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “It doesn’t matter whether it was me or the next King’s Man or all of us. I was part of the problem. And I have to live with that every day.”

  Scarlet wanted to reach for his hand, but he looked so full of anguish, so old, that it seemed like a single touch might shatter him. So she could only stand there until finally he straightened and turned back to her.

  “I can’t remember,” he said. “And I can’t be here any more. I have to get off the island.”

  “You mean you’re moving your men?”

  “I mean I’m leaving the tropics.”

  Scarlet started. “I’m sorry?”

  “I’m retiring. I told my men this morning. I’m going back to the Old World.”

  Scarlet could only stare. She’d now officially received too much information for one day.

  “And I expect you to meet me here tomorrow. Spend one more night with your friends if you must.”

  “My…”

  “You’ll meet me here tomorrow. We’ll leave promptly.”

  Leave? For the Old World? Scarlet’s jaw dropped. “But…I can’t come with you.”

  “Now that is not up to you,” he said curtly. “As my daughter, you’ll do as you’re told.”

  Scarlet felt dizzy. “I can’t,” she said again. “This is my home. My crew is here and—”

  “Your crew? Scarlet, be serious. You may have spent the last few years playing with some street children, but that’s not how you’re going to live from now on.”

  “Playing with street children!” Scarlet cried. “How dare you! My mates are the bravest, most tireless—” she stopped, partly because she was about to give away their identity and partly because she was fairly certain her brain was about to explode.

  “I leave tomorrow,” said the admiral. “I trust you’ll be here to meet me.”

  Then he turned and walked back to his camp, leaving Scarlet utterly speechless.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Scarlet staggered away from the clearing, feeling as if she’d just been run over by a schooner. She wasn’t sure what was more disturbing: her father assuming she’d pack up and return to the Old World or her father blaming himself for the Islanders’ deaths.

  All these years he’d been carrying that awful guilt. Scarlet couldn’t begin to imagine what that felt like. No wonder he didn’t want to rustle up old memories.

  And yet, she wondered, did that excuse him for trying to forget? And forcing her to forget, too? She wasn’t sure.

  After a while she stopped and looked around to determine just where she was. This business of relying on the island to direct her was just plain tiresome. She really had to get back to the Lost Souls. She’d been gone the better part of the day, and they’d be getting antsy by now.

  “Speaking of antsy,” she said as her eyes fell on a familiar line of leaf-cutter ants. “Maybe if I followed—”


  “Captain!” Jem’s voice floated through the trees.

  “Fitz!” Scarlet cried, looking up. “Where are you?”

  “Right here.” He popped out from behind a nearby tree, wearing a grin she wouldn’t have expected on someone who’d made the discovery of a lifetime but couldn’t convince his mates it had happened.

  “Tell me you have good news. I need good news.”

  Jem shook his head. “I don’t have good news, Scarlet. I have great news. I think I’ve finally got it.”

  “Got what?” The sight of a happy crew member filled Scarlet with such hope that she was able to crack a joke. “No, let me guess. The cure for baldness.”

  “Better.”

  “Feather beds for everyone!”

  “Uh-uh. I know where the Islanders live.”

  Scarlet gasped. “What? Where? How did you figure it out?”

  “Well, I went back to the clearing and consulted my map. And I noticed something I drew yesterday morning. A clue!”

  “What?” Scarlet was dying to know.

  “Liam’s squash helmet.”

  “Liam’s squash…” She shook her head, mystified.

  “The Islanders must grow them!” Jem jabbed a finger in the air.

  Scarlet gasped. “You think so?”

  Jem nodded, whipping out his map and unfurling it with a flourish. “Now all we have to do is find the squash. And by my calculations, it’s this way.” He turned and marched off. Scarlet followed, reflecting that maybe a map wasn’t such a bad thing to have around.

  A few minutes later, they came upon the root she’d tripped over twice. (Thankfully, this time she avoided it.)

  “Here’s the root. So the squash should be right…there.” Jem pointed to some short plants with jagged leaves. The tree canopy was thinner there, so the sun could speckle them with its late-afternoon light.

  Scarlet stared at the plants, and after a moment she realized that they were growing in distinct rows.

  “It’s a garden!” She kneeled to part the leaves, revealing two bright-orange gourds. Suddenly, memories of roasted vegetables flashed through her brain. Of course the Islanders gardened! “You’re brilliant, Fitz.”