Wielder's Curse

by Elle Cardy

  A hand span away.

  A breath away.

  She could feel its energy crackle.

  Jasmine had flattened Finn against the bulkhead. His heat warmed her back. There was nothing she could do. If that thing touched her, instinct or fear told her she’d be lost to the vision forever, a prisoner of the void, food for the Beast.

  The phantom vanished in a swirl of smoke tendrils. The vision storm cleared. The roar hushed.

  Outside, Arassi cried, “Land ahoy!”

  PART THREE

  Chapter 27

  They spilled from the captain’s quarters onto the main deck. A light rain fell from the slate sky. The ghost ship had vanished, and the crew cheered at a tiny landmass on the southern horizon. Their thinned faces glowed with hope in the wet. Land promised full bellies, safe harbors, and restful sleep.

  But what had made the ghost ship disappear? What had banished the vision storm and the phantom? Jasmine didn’t trust the reprieve. This was merely a lull in the storm.

  “Go,” she said to Finn, hiding him with her magic. “Get back inside the captain’s quarters. Keep yourself hidden.” Too often her magic had failed when she’d needed it the most. There was no sense tempting fate.

  With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he left.

  “Ship off the starboard bow,” Cagg hollered as he peered through his spyglass.

  The ship was a normal ship. Nothing ghostly about it. It came from the island. With a single mast and a strange design, it was smaller than the Prize. Its long figurehead swept up toward the sky, stylized by a carving of a dragon. Its one and only sail was striped blue and white, and large kohl eyes had been painted on the hull.

  “What does a yellow and green flag mean?” Cagg asked. “One of their crew is waving two of them at us.”

  Durne turned to Gley.

  She had pulled her hood low over her face. Droplets of rain beaded on the wool. “It means they want us to follow them. The waters around the island are treacherous. They will guide us into their safe harbor.”

  “Return to my quarters and lock the door,” Durne said to her in a low voice. “In case that thing returns, do what you can to protect the lad.”

  Before she could sweep away, Jasmine caught her. “Can you protect him?” The faintest hesitation before the girl nodded didn’t ease Jasmine’s fears. “You couldn’t keep him hidden earlier.”

  “I’m all right now. I’ll need food and rest soon, but I’ll manage.” She glanced toward the landmass. “He’ll be safe. For a while, anyway.”

  Before Jasmine could ask how she could be so certain, Gley slipped from her grasp and entered the captain’s quarters.

  “Get to work, lass,” Durne said.

  Jasmine climbed into the rigging and helped furl the sails. Their speed dropped, mirroring the velocity of their guide ship. As they drew closer, the island revealed itself through the misty rains as a craggy lump of mountainous rock. As islands went, it didn’t look huge or inviting. No rolling green hills, no white beaches, no thick forests. There didn’t seem to be any sign of civilization either. Just rock, rock, and more rock.

  When it looked like the guide ship was going to sail them into the tall cliffs, huge natural stone arches came into view. Following their guide’s path, the Prize sailed under the arches, and a strange hush came over the world like a held breath. Even the rain seemed muted as it fell through the mists, turning the surrounding cliffs black and shiny like obsidian.

  “This ain’t no Auslam,” one crewmate muttered near Jasmine.

  She couldn’t agree more. The island was cold, craggy, and miserable. They were coming into summer months, yet the air was downright frosty. And there was something unusual about the place. It was as if the rocks carried the residue of unremembered dreams, the shimmer of half-forgotten power. Perhaps it was simply the bleak colors speaking to her, feeding on her remaining unease over the apparitions, Finn’s safety, and what was yet to come. The Beast hadn’t given up. It would manifest again. She just didn’t know when or where.

  A sheltered harbor soon came into view. Small fishing boats lined the bay, along with other dragon boats like the one that guided them. Little shacks dotted the shore with smoke drifting from their chimneys. They’d been painted bright colors. Little homes of yellow, red, or blue, striking a sharp contrast against their grim background.

  The rain had passed for now, but everything remained wet.

  “Brusan, you’re coming with me when we land,” Durne said, his gaze set on the small hamlet nestled under the protection of the mountains and surrounding cliffs. “Everyone else will stay onboard until I get a feel for the place.”

  Near the mainmast, Brusan made a strange noise in the back of his throat. He’d wrapped himself in a thick cloak and scarf as if he felt the cold. She couldn’t recall him ever wearing a cloak and had long suspected the man had an immunity to all weather conditions.

  “What is it?” Durne asked.

  “If you’ll allow it,” Brusan said, “I’d be mighty grateful if you’d let me stay on the ship.”

  Durne lifted his eyebrows. “Very well. Arassi, you’re with me.” His gaze drifted to Jasmine. “You too.”

  She needed to stay close to Finn, to make sure he was protected. No, she needed to hold her tongue. She couldn’t make a habit of questioning her captain, especially not in front of the crew.

  “This could be a good learning experience for you,” Durne said to her. “Stay close, watch and listen, and don’t say a word.” He glanced at her feet. “And put on a pair of shoes. Borrow some if you must. We leave at the change of watch. Be ready.” With that, Durne turned his back on them.

  The crew was made up of burly men with large feet. If they owned a pair of shoes, then they’d be wearing them in this cold weather. What need did a man have to own more than one pair of shoes?

  Aurelius.

  He was small compared to the others, and she’d seen him wear more than one style. Jasmine dashed off in search of the kid. Although he wasn’t in his quarters, he was easy to find. Jasmine went straight to Marcelo’s quarters. She could hear the old man complaining from down the passageway.

  “You need to convince the captain to leave this place as soon as we’re resupplied. We must return to Auslam.” A murmured reply, then, “Because he won’t listen to me!”

  Jasmine knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” Marcelo bellowed.

  Jasmine opened the door to see Aurelius sitting on the only chair in the room, in a corner where Marcelo had the crew stack most of his boxed possessions. Marcelo stood over the kid, his face red. Probably from yelling so much.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m after Aurelius…”

  The kid shot to his feet, a hopeful expression beaming from his face.

  “I was wondering if I could…” She stopped when Marcelo gave her a look of impatient expectation. She wondered what the old man would think about her asking to borrow shoes. She didn’t know why she cared. “Just wanted to ask him for advice.”

  Marcelo raised one eyebrow. When Aurelius looked his way, the old man nodded and shooed them both off.

  When the door was firmly shut behind them, Aurelius let out a long sigh into the passageway. “Thanks for rescuing me. What advice do you need?”

  She grabbed him by the upper arm and pulled him toward his quarters. “I just need to borrow a pair of shoes.”

  “You don’t have any of your own?”

  “What of it?” She had no idea why this was so difficult. “Never had a need until now. Do you mind?”

  “No, no of course not.”

  When they got to his room, he invited her in. She’d not been inside before. It had mainly been used as a storage compartment for extra lines, spare winches, nails and hoists. The little things a ship needs but aren’t used on a daily basis. They’d shifted it all out, storing the supplies in the lower decks to make room for Aurelius because Marcelo had i
nsisted that they both needed their own space. Quiet study had been his excuse. Bunking with the crew had been unacceptable. Apparently. It meant the room Aurelius got was mighty small and could barely fit a hammock. Unlike Marcelo, the kid had no desk on which to work, and he had to share his space with Marcelo’s crates which could not, under no circumstances, be left behind at Sapphire Cove.

  Aurelius went straight to a small sea chest sitting in the corner of the room. It was buried under a pile of books. After shifting the books, he opened it. “What kind of shoes are you after?”

  Jasmine shrugged. “The kind you walk in.”

  Something she said amused the kid. He pulled out a black leather pair with tapered square toes, low heels, embossed brass buckles and maroon ribbons.

  “You making fun of me?”

  Aurelius looked from the shoes, to her, and back again. “I didn’t mean to. Just thought you’d like this pair.”

  Jasmine peered into his opened sea chest. He had about five pairs of shoes in there. “What about those ones?”

  He pulled out the plainest one she could see. Brown leather, square toe, steel buckles. No fancy embossing, no bright colors, and certainly no ribbons.

  “You won’t mind them getting mud on them?”

  “Mud can wash off. Take them. They’re yours.”

  “I only need to borrow them for a short time.” She slid her feet into them. Her toes immediately felt cramped, the leather rubbing against her heels. The shoes were heavy and cumbersome. Whoever invented them had a lot to answer for.

  “And what will you do once I leave this ship and have need of a pair of shoes again?” he asked.

  Once he leaves this ship. Everything about him said he was missing his hometown of Auslam, that he wanted to and intended to return there as soon as he was able. Yet that was where the Guardians were, where his punishment was for betraying the Order. It was as plain as his face that he had no intention of leaving Marcelo. And that was when it hit her.

  “In Oakheart you lied to me. You didn’t want to escape punishment by leaving Marcelo.” She looked at him a little closer. The magic around him shifted and bubbled. In the flow and jitter, she saw the truth. “Marcelo asked you to get me to leave the ship.”

  Aurelius went paler than normal.

  “You intentionally worked against me.”

  He didn’t deny it. He just stood there with his shoulders slouched.

  “What do you know?”

  He shook his head, like a sharp shiver at a sudden cold breeze. “I don’t know anything. Marcelo told me that if I do everything he asks of me, without question, then he won’t take my betrayal to the Guardians.”

  “So you lied to me and led me astray.”

  Still no denial and no apology. Yet what would those things bring? They couldn’t change the past and had no bearing on the future. Jasmine kicked off the kid’s shoes and left.

  She found an old pair of boots of Brusan’s. They were badly worn, but they were better than the kid’s. She put on three pairs of woolen socks then shoved on the boots, lacing them as tight as she could. Still her feet slipped around in them, but they’d do just fine. She wanted nothing more to do with Aurelius. It seemed people couldn’t change after all, and no one could be trusted.

  “Them my boots?” Brusan asked as she passed him on the way to meet her captain.

  “What of it?” she muttered and stomped on without stopping.

  Brusan made no further comments. His lack of reaction made her angrier, so by the time she met Durne on deck, she was a storm about to burst.

  “What’s got your breeches in a twist? Never mind. Time to meet the locals.”

  Durne’s timing had been impeccable, as Finn would say. Under Cagg’s direction, the Prize sidled in next to the deep-water wharf, secured her lines, and lowered the gangway. Maneuverability for the Prize had been tight but not impossible.

  A cold breeze brushed against Jasmine’s skin. The misty slate-colored mountains crowded the flat white sky.

  Durne grunted. “A mite nippy.”

  Jasmine wondered if she had time to get a cloak. A warm presence appeared beside her and a soft weight fell on her shoulders.

  “You’ll be needing this,” Brusan said, his voice muffled under a thick scarf wrapped around his head and shoulders.

  Her first instinct was to throw off the cloak, but the extra warmth was too good to toss away because of pride. These small acts of kindness were making it hard to stay angry at him.

  “Thanks,” she muttered. Why couldn’t anything be simple?

  “You watch your back, now,” Brusan said. He gave Arassi a pointed glare, and the crewman nodded in response.

  Jasmine would bet a small fortune that Brusan had arranged with Arassi to keep an eye on her. She wasn’t a child anymore. She didn’t need looking after.

  Power filled the mists and the surrounding mountains. It hummed in the very air. This was not a land she wanted to set foot on. Whatever the power was, it could be what kept the Beast at bay. The thought wasn’t reassuring.

  Locals had already started gathering on the dock, peering up at the ship. Knowing Arassi would look out for her brought an unexpected comfort.

  “Let’s do this,” Durne said as he wrapped a dark green scarf around his neck and tightened his coat.

  Chapter 28

  Jasmine and Arassi followed Durne down the gangway. None of them carried weapons. A show of good faith, Durne had called it. The rain had turned the ground to mud and puddles. The locals had laid out a line of planks to serve as a temporary boardwalk.

  Whispers shimmered from the crowd as the locals watched the newcomers’ approach. Jasmine’s booted feet clomped along the path’s length until her landing party reached a short man with a full orange beard and scruffy orange hair. He had round red cheeks, a round nose, and dimples formed when he offered them a large smile in greeting.

  “Welcome to Hefnargatt on Island Pruma,” he bellowed. “We don’t much get visitors. Kristolf is name, and I am keeper of Slaughtered Pickle.” He pointed to a bright red cabin with a high-pitched roof, and a soft warm light glowing in the windows. His grin broadened. “Only drinking room on island. You and your tribe most welcome.”

  “Pickle?” Arassi asked.

  “Aye, pickle. Baby of sheep.”

  “Lamb. The offspring of sheep are called lambs,”

  Kristolf hissed a short, sharp word in another language. “Young brother’s son has been playing sport with me. Don’t get large practice with making your words.”

  The whispering grew louder. Jasmine couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was a language full of strange twangs followed by breaths of air. It was a music that carried a strange power, though they didn’t wield magic by speaking them. Power continued to shimmer in the surrounding mountains too. No more did it feel like an unremembered dream. Instead it filled the air with a resonance that pressed against Jasmine’s exposed skin.

  She glanced longingly at her ship.

  “I’m Captain Durne of the trade ship Wielder’s Prize.”

  The folk within hearing narrowed their eyes and muttered to each other. Jasmine wondered what had upset them. Maybe they weren’t upset and it was simply how they bore themselves. Harsh people living in a harsh land.

  “And this is Arassi and Jasmine. My crewmen.”

  Thrusting out his hand in greeting, Kristolf said, “Is good to meet. Your crew’s first ale is on drinking house. And yours too.”

  A sparkle appeared in Durne’s eye, and he reached out to shake the hand of the orange-haired man.

  Kristolf snatched his hand away. He peered under Durne’s bushy eyebrows and took a step back. “You cannot be here.”

  The murmurings in the crowd grew louder. Someone muttered in the common tongue, “Soulless.” The word caught like a flame in dry grass and spread through everyone gathered until it turned to a hiss.

  “I… I sorry, Captain Durne, but
you must need withdraw. Just you. Others welcome for staying.”

  “Might I ask why?” Durne said in a deep rumble.

  “You can’t be blamed for way you born.”

  “Pardon?”

  Kristolf’s gaze darted around the increasingly restless crowd. “Best go now and not show self during tribe’s stay.”

  Durne growled under his breath and nodded. To Arassi, he said, “Get the trade channels open and report back when you’re done.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Durne bowed to Kristolf then stalked off up the gangway, leaving Arassi and Jasmine alone among strangers on shore.

  As soon as Durne disappeared from view, the locals stopped whispering. Kristolf raised his arms and bellowed, “Welcome!”

  The locals crowded in, all with large smiles. One woman gave both Arassi and Jasmine a basket each filled with pastries. “Come by my home by flowing waters. I’m weaver, spinning bestest wools.” Her accent was thick but she got her message across.

  Kristolf expertly pulled them away and led them to his tavern. He pushed open the door with his hip and welcomed them to his place. The cabin was bigger than it looked from the outside. A warm fire burned in a long narrow brazier down the middle of the main room. Only three small tables sat near the walls. The rest of the space was left open with long bench seats lining the fire. Between antlers and tusks, thick furs covered the walls. A giant sword hung above the entrance, along with a few shields, looking more ceremonial than practical because of their fancy detailing which included fox tails and ribbons.

  A mug the size of Jasmine’s head was thrust into her hands.

  “Finest mead in all lands.” Kristolf saluted with his own enormous mug and encouraged Arassi and Jasmine to drink.

  Arassi downed the lot in one go. He let out a long slow burp and wiped his upper lip with his sleeve. Kristolf bellowed a hearty laugh.

  There was no chance Jasmine was going to drink all that in one go. She’d sworn off drinking since she’d been captured by the crew of the Seahawk.

  “It’s an insult if you don’t drink, lass,” Arassi said in her ear.