by Eve Langlais
“I think it’s very unlikely someone managed to follow us over the edge of the world. Ergo that storm, while sudden, was probably just a fluke. It happens.”
He lied. She couldn’t have said why the certainty, but she called him on it. “It was a mage, and you know it.”
“Maybe it was. So what?”
“So aren’t you going to yell at me for putting the ship and your crew in danger?”
“Why would I do that? It’s not exactly your fault.”
“But they’re going to come after me again,” she stated.
“Probably.”
“And? Aren’t you worried?”
He snorted. “I’ve fought off an island of knee-high carnivores while escaping with their most treasured idol. I can handle a storm or two.”
“What if they try something worse?” she insisted.
“How about you stop freaking out over maybes?”
She pressed her lips tight. How could she not freak out? “Tanzie said the shortcut over the falls put us only three days from my uncle’s Island.”
“Aye. If the sailing is smooth.”
“You don’t think it will be?”
He lifted a bare shoulder. “Depends on how bad your enemies want you.”
“But you just said you didn’t think anyone followed and you weren’t worried.”
“It’s not the ones behind we’ve got to worry about but those trying to get ahead of us.”
She wanted to sink to the floor in a puddle of despair. “This is ridiculous. I’m putting you and everyone on this ship in danger. It might be better to just hand me over.”
“Giving up, princess? I’m surprised. Your father wasn’t a quitter.”
“My father is dead.” She said the words with all the bitter regret bubbling inside. She’d cried her tears the night before as the storm rocked the ship. A torrent of them. She felt dry and hollow inside.
“My understanding is he died saving your ungrateful ass. Try being thankful.”
The rebuke brought a bit of fire to her gaze. “Grateful for what?”
“You’re alive.”
“The question is, for how long?”
“Until they tire of the hunt or you fight back.”
“Don’t you think I wish I could fight?” she yelled angrily. All this might have been avoided if she’d inherited her father’s gift. Maybe if he’d let her answer that letter that promised a solution…
“Don’t get mad at me. Get mad at your enemies,” he retorted, stepping past her, shirt in hand.
Getting mad wouldn’t accomplish anything. Her enemies had all the power, literally.
He left the room, and she followed, feeling better the moment she emerged onto the deck. She spent the day there, even managing to keep down food and water. She was still sitting at the stern when they rounded a sharp rocky outcropping and a red stone cliff came into view. Atop it, a crumbling castle and yet she knew of it. “The Crimson Keep.”
The pirate, silent in his bare feet, startled her as he said, “Former seat of the Lazuli royals.”
“Do you know why they abandoned it?” Her father never said much about the Lazuli other than they couldn’t be trusted.
Darius pointed to the water, the blue waves turning purple as pink water hit it. The pale hue deepened into crimson closer to shore. “See the red water? Drinking it, hell even dipping flesh into it too long, will halt a beating heart.”
She glanced from the waters to him. “This is the Crimson Sea? I’ve heard of it. Is it true that the one they call Tin Man drowned the Emerald queen in it?”
“Actually, it was her daughter who did the deed.”
“She killed her own mother?” The very idea seemed blasphemous. She would have given anything to know hers.
“Trust me when I say Riella did the world a favor.”
“If they abandoned the Keep, then where do the Lazuli live now?”
“Far from these Crimson shores. They are difficult to reach without invitation.”
“But not impossible.”
He cut her a sharp glance. “Why the interest?”
She debated on what to say and settled on the truth. “They sent my father a message several months ago.”
“Why?”
“They wanted to do a trade, but not liking the terms, my father refused.”
“Probably a wise choice. They’re an odd people.”
“So am I,” she said softly. A princess with no kingdom, who belonged nowhere. She held onto the rail as they sailed closer to the Crimson Keep. Beyond it lay the bay and the mouth of the river. As they passed directly under the cliff, she craned to stare at the abandoned building, a slight crease on her forehead. “It appears lonely.”
“Most people would call that look haunted.”
“Ghosts don’t exist. There is nothing after death.” Because if there was, surely her father would have contacted her.
“Don’t be so sure about that, princess,” he drawled.
“You believe in an afterlife?” she asked, gazing at him with curiosity.
“I think there are things we don’t understand, and death is definitely one of them.”
“There is too much death in this world,” she muttered darkly. “Too much avarice. My father was killed because of greedy people.”
“Your father was murdered because he was a good king.”
“Is that supposed to be a consolation?” she snapped. “Because it’s not. For months we knew he was being poisoned, and then, when he finally found a cure, he was betrayed. Betrayed by the very people he raised to power.” Like that damned fool Infiero.
“I’m sorry.”
The sincerity surprised her. “Sorry doesn’t bring him back.”
“Sorry doesn’t do shit for anyone, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be felt.” He rolled a thick shoulder.
“It’s not fair,” she said, her voice thick.
“The world isn’t a fair place.”
“Why not?” she cried out. “Why can’t we have a world where the laws are just? Where people aren’t poisoned and murdered simply for being good?”
“Because the altruistic have a hard time doing what has to be done.”
“Meaning what?”
“Truth is, princess, your daddy knew who was plotting against him. In the early days of his reign, he would have nipped it in the bud. Perhaps if he’d kept that hard edge, he might have lived.”
“My father wasn’t a tyrant.”
“No, he wasn’t, and in the end, he died for his scruples.”
The reminder only served to thicken the anguish in her.
A head popped from a hatch in the deck and beckoned. “Cap’n, a word if you don’t mind.”
Darius disappeared then, a moment later, reappeared, grumbling and shouting, “We need to anchor for some emergency repairs.”
Jorah stuck his head out of the bridge. “Wassup?”
“We’ve got some loose welds that need fixing.”
“How close to shore do you want us?”
“Tether us to the old docks below the Crimson Keep. While Clyde slaps a torch onto a few places, I’m going to take the princess on a tour.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened.
He turned twinkling eyes and a rakish grin on her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to visit a haunted castle.”
She’d actually never thought of it. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
“Probably safer than anything that’s happened recently,” he said with a smirk.
His expression indicated he expected her to be cowardly and refuse. She lifted her chin. “I would be delighted to receive a guided tour.”
He winked. “Be sure to grab me tight if you get scared.”
The pirate had a way with words that made her blush, but that didn’t stop her from following him once they were docked. She gripped the ladder tight, all too aware of the deadly water if she fell.
Before she’d reached the dock, hands spanned her waist. “You can let
go. I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Funny how she didn’t fear him dropping her. He set her on the dock, close to him, forcing her to tilt to see his face. “Thank you.”
“Oh, the pleasure was all mine,” he purred.
She turned from him and glanced upward. “How do we get inside?”
“We go up.”
She eyed the stairs at the end of the docks with a grimace. There were a lot of them. “I hope they’re solid,” she grumbled as she began climbing. She didn’t get far, though.
A passing pirate scooped her and dumped her over his shoulder. She squealed then laughed as he ran up the steps, saving her the effort and barely panting at the top when he set her down.
She giggled. “Are you insane?”
“You were taking too long. And besides, my way was more fun.” A teasing remark that finished with a wink.
At the top of the stairs, they emerged onto a large open area, a plaza of sorts with crumbling balustrades enclosing it. The tatters of stalls, rags still attached, fluttered in the breeze that tugged at her hair. The view proved incredible, and she took a moment to enjoy it.
In Port City, she’d mostly looked out over the sprawling homes and businesses that had sprung up in the shadow of the castle. The ocean itself was smooth blue expanse broken only by passing ships and the occasional hump of a creature surfacing.
Atop the cliffs holding the Crimson Keep, the panorama proved different. Exciting. The sea in front of her showed islands in the distance. The turquoise water turned purple that deepened until it became crimson from the bay. Behind her, she could see the lush treetops of the thick jungle that spread as far as the eye could see.
“Didn’t there used to be a town?” she asked with a frown.
“Used to be. Once abandoned by its inhabitants, it wasn’t long before nature took over.”
“But the castle is still intact.”
“Because it was built on rock.” He stamped his foot.
“Why did the bay turn red?” she asked.
“There are a few theories on that, but I couldn’t tell you which one is true.” He tucked his hands behind his back. “The most likely scenario is something bubbled up from below and contaminated it. But my gory favorite is the one that claims the Lazuli, practicing sacrificial blood magic, kept washing the evidence of their perfidy into the sea and the souls of those they killed wanted revenge. Thus, they tainted the water, hungry for life, sucking it dry from anything that dares touch it.”
She shivered and hugged herself. “That’s gruesome.”
“You asked.”
She had and now kind of wished she hadn’t. “Will the waters ever be safe again?”
“No idea. I know they tried many things to clean the bay. None of them worked. Given it contaminated their well system, the survivors had no choice but to pack up and leave.” He glanced at her. “Ready for a peek inside?”
Her heart hammered in her chest, part fear, part excitement. She nodded.
To her surprise, he laced his fingers in hers as he tugged her toward the towering walls of the keep. Up close, she could see the pitting of time wearing at the red stone, the surface porous and crumbling. He led her around the corner to where the grand arch sat, its heavy metal doors rusted and askew on their hinges.
“I’m surprised they left the place open,” she noted as they stepped through.
“They didn’t. That would be the treasure seekers that came after.”
“Were you one of them?”
The slow lazy smile caused heat to spurt in her lower region. Why did the man have to be so sexy?
“I’m a pirate. We plunder any chance we get. Not that there was much left to take. The Lazuli stripped the place bare and left behind only the things that were too firmly bolted.”
They entered a receiving area, dusty and forlorn, the tile underfoot scratched and faded yet still hinting at the pattern that once adorned it. Archways led off to the left and right while, straight ahead, a hall passed under matching staircases that looped around and met in the middle, the railing partially collapsed.
“I don’t recommend using those steps,” he said with an angle of his head. “The wood has warped and I doubt they’re safe anymore.”
He led her to their left, entering a vast chamber a few stories in height, ringed in a gallery that overlooked—
“A ballroom,” she exclaimed. A grand one with a domed ceiling that once held glass but now was an open shell.
“They didn’t entertain much, but when they did, apparently they would project fantastical scenes on the walls and ceiling. I heard they once threw an under-the-sea ball and the entire room appeared as if it had sea creatures swimming through it.”
She heaved in a breath. “Oh, I would have liked to have seen that.”
Most technology was reserved for things of import. Since the Fall, their ability to manufacture had dwindled with only a few tri-dimensional printers surviving and difficult to replace. More and more, people were resorting to actual crafting, which, according to her father, created a more quality product and employment, which had excited her father to no end. Something about it stimulating the economy and growth.
“Come, you have to see their kitchens.”
An odd thing for him to say, but she eagerly followed him as he led her from the grand space through a maze of dusty corridors, the paint on the walls flaking, the ones that were papered peeling. No sign of furniture, just empty pedestals and nooks along with the sense of not being entirely alone.
She couldn’t have said why she thought it. The place appeared utterly abandoned. Not even a skittering insect to startle, and yet, every so often, it was if she saw a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye. When she’d quickly turn to peek, nothing.
Eerie. Haunted. But since Darius didn’t seem afraid, she did her best to pretend she wasn’t either.
The kitchen had her gasping. The counters were huge expanses of wood, till retaining some of the shine. There were ovens stacked upon each other with dials. Giant walk-in fridges with empty shelves. Strange contraptions with vats filled with a greasy sludge, baskets suspended over them.
The kitchen back home didn’t rely on electronics at all. The stoves burned clean sealphin blubber. For a fridge, they had submerged chambers that kept produce cool.
He pointed to the basket contraption. “These used to be full of boiling hot oil for frying food to a crisp.”
Her nose wrinkled. “Sounds unhealthy.”
“But delicious.”
Their wandering took them in and out of more rooms, showing a faded splendor. It was only as passed a staircase going down, the stone steps disappearing around a curve, that she halted. “What’s down there?”
“Nothing you should see.”
She cast him a sharp glance. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you calling me weak?”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t call you nuthin’.”
“Then why can’t I see what’s down there?”
“You want to see? Fine, let’s go.” He headed for the steps, and now she was the one to balk.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t. Didn’t you say the stairs were unsafe?”
“The wooden ones above ground, yes. These are carved into the very stone itself and aren’t going anywhere. Come.” He held out his hand.
She laced her fingers with his, which meant she felt the tension thrumming through him as they headed down. Expecting to descend into darkness, she was surprised to see the steps faintly illuminated.
“Why are they glowing?”
“Special paint. Easier than maintaining an electrical system with light filaments.”
The stairs went further than expected, several floors with the passages at the landings blocked off. She eyed them and wondered why they’d been sealed.
She got her answer when they finally came across one on the third landing that had been smashed open. The glowing paint on the floor was faint down here. Darius fiddled at his waist and, with
a flick, held aloft a tiny flame. He lifted it to a sconce on the wall, the glass dirty, but whatever fueled it ignited and lit the doorway.
Her nose wrinkled at the smell. Musty. Moldy. But more disturbing was the sense of not being alone. She could swear she heard the faintest of whispers.
She stepped inside and sought to make sense of the shadows. Darius entered behind and lit another lamp, then another, and by the third, she held a hand to her mouth.
Her heart hammered in her chest as she beheld the stacks of bodies.
“It’s a crypt,” she whispered.
Chapter 7
It took Shereen a moment to mentally process the horror. While she came to grips with it, Darius explained.
“In the early days, when the water was just starting to turn, the Lazuli didn’t realize the full extent of the issue. Diluted, the poison worked more slowly. Hundreds got sick and died. Too many to bury and the Lazuli don’t believe in cremation, so as the body count kept rising, they took to storing them. Placing them in the chambers underground and sealing them shut.”
“You mean all the rooms we passed…” Her voice trailed off.
“Are burial crypts. They closed them off with the bodies inside to try and contain the problem. Because, you see, before they discovered the water was killing them, they assumed some kind of virus was what infected them.”
“Why would they have drunk the red water?” she asked.
“It wasn’t really red at first. More like a purple. When the sickness started, they boiled the water.”
“To kill any bacteria,” she muttered aloud.
“Except whatever poisoned the water survived boiling.”
“And hundreds died.”
“More like thousands,” he said softly. “When the waters fully turned red, they say the dead jammed the bay. Human, fish, crustacean. In the space of a month, the Crimson Keep and its citizens were almost completely wiped out. Those that managed to avoid getting sick, left. This place has been empty since.”
Why would they return? It was a giant graveyard on a scope that churned her stomach.
“How did it happen?
“No one knows.”
“I need to leave.” Surrounded by all the death, she couldn’t handle it. The flickers of movement, the sense of hearing something, her fear threatened to strangle her.