The Pirate’s Jewel

by Casie, Ruth A.

  Maria turned to her. “My heart pounds when he looks at me and I tingle in places no proper maiden should mention. My mouth opens, but I can’t produce a clear word. He must think I’m daft.”

  Darla put her arm around her friend. “He probably thinks you’re quite shy. He’ll find out soon enough he is all wrong and you’re domineering, relentless, sharp-witted—”

  “Don’t be so arrogant. Your father is speaking to mine about a match for you. Perhaps Father plans to marry you off to one of his old arrogant military commanders. It would serve you right.”

  The thought curdled Darla’s stomach. She didn’t like the way Maria turned the situation against her.

  “I find little humor in what you say,” Darla said, hands on her hips. “Besides, what political gain would I bring to a suitor? I’m not a lord’s daughter.”

  She could pretend all she wanted, but Darla was quite aware her father brought her to Dundhragon on this trip to be introduced to eligible suitors. If she didn’t find someone acceptable, which she had not, her father and Lord Ewan would make the decision.

  Her father was adamant he wouldn’t marry her off without her consent. Her hands slid down her skirt. She tried, truly she did, but she refused one suitor after another. None made her feel any fire, not even a small candle flame. Her dreams of a love match like her parents’ were just that, dreams.

  “You’re a Maxwell. That should be enough for any man. But you also possess special abilities. Those talents and your lineage are what you bring to a marriage. You’re quite a prize, I assure you.”

  Maria was her confidant. The only person, besides her mother, to whom she felt comfortable exposing her innermost secrets. Her friend didn’t see her second sight for anything more than Darla being smart, intuitive, and able to work her way through tangles of emotions to get to the answer when others could not.

  Darla let out a large yawn. Maria gave her a questioning look.

  “I heard you up and wandering around the room last night. Does it have anything to do with you wanting to go home?” The genuine concern on her friend’s face touched her.

  “No, it may have been last night’s pigeon pie,” Darla said.

  “It couldn’t have been the pie. You didn’t eat any. Why won’t you confide in me? Perhaps I can help you, share your burden.”

  “There is nothing to share. The weather has kept me indoors too long. Come to the garden with me. I promised I would harvest herbs for the kitchen and infirmary.”

  “No, you go on. I must speak with Mother.”

  Darla crossed the room, opened the door, and swept her hand in a grand gesture. “After you, your Majesty.”

  Maria grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. The two laughed until they came to Lady Eugena’s door. Maria moved inside while Darla continued down the stairs to the kitchen.

  After choosing one of the baskets from the shelf, she stepped into the garden.

  The wind had turned into a mild breeze. Water from the recent rain dripped from the edges of the roof and leaves. A small rivulet made its way down the stone path and branched off pooling around the plants in the flower beds. Puddles dotted the ground everywhere, some larger than others. With her basket in hand, she moved among the plants and selected herbs until she stood before a large puddle at the far end of the garden.

  A ripple danced across the water and held her attention. The simple wave revealed a reflection, but it wasn’t hers. The unwanted murky image emerged, the same one that haunted her since she arrived at the castle. She closed her eyes, but that didn’t help. The elements of his face were burned into her brain.

  The misty face was unknown to her until Lord Ewan arrived home and she sat at the evening meal with his future son-in-law. The realization at that meeting left her bereft and desolate. She cursed under her breath at the burden she carried.

  Young, handsome Magnus would be dead before the end of the year with Maria. Helpless, she stood with Maria knowing there was nothing she could do to shield her friend from Magnus’ fate.

  There had been other times when destiny was revealed to her. Each time she took action to try to alter the outcome, insisted on precautions, sent people away, but in the end, she always failed.

  Her eyes opened as another ripple swept over the puddle and the undefined face sank beneath the surface.

  A deep breath, that’s it. Now another. The fragrance of the aromatic mint, sage, dill, and chamomile flowers in the basket brought her back to the present. She took another breath. The aroma of angelica mingled with the herbs. The scent of the tall, bold beautiful white flower grew more intense and sickening. Many people planted angelica to bless their home, guard it against disease and … witches. She hurried back to the kitchen to escape the vision, the fragrance, everything.

  “As above, so below. As within, so without. Let none come here to hurt or maim. Please, don’t let my plea be in vain. So mote it be.” She mumbled the chant to no one and touched the small pouch she wore at her waist for comfort.

  She must be wrong. The vision had to be a good omen, one of health and prosperity. Her visions weren’t always tragic. But which was it? Death and gloom or love and glory? She couldn’t discuss any of this with Maria and she couldn’t wait for her father any longer. Only her mother could help her decipher the vision.

  Lord Ewan was the one person who could get her home. She had to undo Maria’s not-so-helpful interference. It was important to approach him at the right time when he would be more apt to grant her request. She puzzled the problem. Perhaps after he listened to … the village grievances. She spun and faced the direction of the great hall. This may be the perfect time to speak to him.

  Darla put the herb basket in the kitchen, lifted her skirt, and rushed toward the great hall. Her skirt fluttered as she hurried down the corridor and through the doorway into the room.

  The darkness of the chamber stopped her. She waited for her eyes to adjust, as well as catch her breath. Out of the darkness, Lord Ewan’s ceremonial chair emerged empty on the platform. A storm brewed inside her as she scanned the room. Finally, she stamped her foot at the injustice and swished around to leave when a movement caught her attention. She took a step forward. Lord Ewan stood by the hearth.

  A slow smile spread across her face and she let out a huge breath. Gathering her thoughts, she shook out her skirts and hurried to her host.

  “M’lord, if I may ask your permission.” She dipped a swift curtsey and stood tall. Her hands clasped in front of her. Keep calm and present your case clearly.

  Lord Ewan turned toward her. His somber face lit with a smile. “Darla, do you ask permission for Maria or for yourself. I must tell you, my daughter is trying my patience of late. Yesterday all she wanted was new silk dresses.”

  Silk dresses? Maria told her she asked her father for an escort to take her home.

  “No, Lord Ewan. I ask for myself.” She settled her shoulders back and met his gaze. “I wish to return home.”

  Lord Ewan’s smile slipped from his face. He let out a deep sigh. “What words have you had with Maria that you don’t want to stay for her wedding?”

  “Oh, no. It is weeks until the wedding. I’ll return by then. You and Lady Eugena make me comfortable and welcome here. I’ve enjoyed the last three months, but I would like to go home and visit my mother for a short time. Nothing more.”

  “Has it been three months? The days go by quickly.” Lord Ewan put a protective arm around her. “I would gladly grant your request, but at the moment there is no one to spare for either a week’s long land expedition or a day’s sail to Ellenbeich. I expect your father to return soon. You can sail home with him.”

  Sail. A patina of sweat drenched her skin. Her heart thumped in her chest. Fear pushed against her like the invisible wind threatening to blow her over. Water didn’t scare her. On the contrary, she was a good swimmer by her third year, much to her father’s surprise.

  “How did you learn to move so well in the water?” he asked
as they walked home from a swim.

  She took the small silver dragon out of her pouch. “The dragon you gave me is magic. In order to keep up with him, I must move fast.”

  “You tell stories as good as I do.” He tousled her long hair, laughed and they continued home.

  By her sixth year, they made daily pilgrimages to the shore. Her father said she swam like a sea dragon darting around, racing him across the narrow channel between the castle and the mainland. No one could keep up with her. No one wanted to, so she and her dragon swam alone, dove to the bottom, and rushed to the top exploding through the surface.

  “Excuse me, m’lord. A message from the dock,” one of the Dundhragon soldiers said. Lord Ewan stepped aside and spoke to the man.

  She closed her eyes. Once again, she was seven. After all these years the memory still haunted her.

  The day was cold and damp. The gray mist that hung low over the water made seeing difficult.

  “Why did you insist on coming here today?” her mother asked as they walked along the narrow rock-littered strip between the cliff wall and water.

  “Something made me come here. Now I fear I may be too late,” she said softly.

  A woman’s frightened scream pierced the air and brought them to a halt. Darla’s eyes widened. Her pulse quickened as the cry echoed along the stone wall making it hard to locate its source. The scream came again, this time desperate and terrified.

  Darla’s legs pounded along the shore, her ears strained for any clue as to where to find the woman. Another wail, painful and pitiful broke the silence. In the thinning haze not far away, she saw the woman weeping at the water’s edge by the base of the rock spur that reached far into the water and disappeared into the gray mist.

  “Help me, please. My boy,” the woman pleaded and pointed into the mist. “He went out in a boat with a friend. I told him not to go, but he insisted.”

  Darla’s mother tried to calm the woman, but nothing helped.

  “I’ll never forget the sound of the boat crashing against the rocks. I called out to him, but he never answered.” Tears traced down the woman’s cheeks. Her mother cried with her.

  This was why she was drawn here today. She ran down the rock spur. Pieces of wood floated in the water.

  “Here,” another boy called. “I tried to reach him, but he’s down too deep.”

  Without hesitation, she dove in the water as she had done a hundred times. Down she swam to see what she could find.

  Over and over she dove to the bottom and searched. People gathered on the shore, some out on the spur.

  Her mother begged her to stop, but the agony of the boy’s mother’s sobs pushed Darla to her limits. She wouldn’t stop until she found him.

  She climbed onto the rocks for a wider look and concentrated, the boy’s friend not far away.

  “As above, so below, as within, so without, I ask for help and a clear mind, show me where the boy to find, so mote it be.” She repeated the words over and over.

  Her hand brushed the small pouch she wore. Another deep breath and she dove back into the water. It was a foolish chant, but one that helped her focus. For a moment, she hung suspended trying to find inspiration on where to search next.

  A movement to her right caught her attention. The vision of her sea dragon rushed up from below and darted in front of her. She followed and skimmed along the bottom until she reached an underwater cliff. Could the boy have fallen to the valley below?

  She didn’t hesitate. Darla rose to the surface, took a breath, and dove for the cliff. Deeper and deeper she went passing the edge of the cliff and deeper still until she reached the valley bottom. Sunlight barely touched this place. As dark as it was, she managed to make out debris from the boat. She knew the boy was near and rushed on to find him.

  Her lungs demanded air, but she kept on going. She feared she was already too late. Mud and debris swirled beyond the large boulder in front of her. She hurried, reached for the rock and pulled herself around. The mud settled and the outline of a boy pulling on a rope caught in the debris emerged.

  She wasted no time as she and the boy worked the clumsy knot until it fell away. With renewed energy, she grabbed him, kicked off the bottom and pulled for the surface with her free arm. Her lungs burned as she fought the instinct to take a breath. The light grew brighter as they raced up, but the surface remained beyond her reach. Her legs ached, her arm tired, her lungs were on fire.

  The boy slipped in her grip. It would be so easy to let him go and swim to safety, but that wasn’t a choice. She repositioned him and felt his arm tighten around her.

  She kicked hard and rushed to the surface as if pushed from beneath. She looked down, the image of her sea dragon forcing her to the top.

  Up they went the water brighter with each stroke. No more air. Just. Keep. Kicking. Pull. Stretch. One. More. Time. With energy she didn’t think she had, she stretched her arm over her head and felt air. She looked beneath her. Her sea dragon was gone.

  Darla and the boy broke through the water. Arms grabbed the boy from her grasp. He was safe. They were both in a boat. But still, she didn’t take a breath. Strong fingers held her chin and wiggled her face.

  She opened her mouth and sprang up gulping for air.

  “Now, now, sit back.” A gentle hand pushed her down.

  “She’s fine,” the man shouted over the noise. “Come Lass, we’ll have you back to your mother. You gave her quite a scare. If you’re worried about the other boy, he’s safe.”

  Darla didn’t struggle. She didn’t have the strength. Her arms ached, her chest heaved, thankful for each breath and thankful the boy had enough strength to help get them to the top.

  As the men rowed to shore, she silently said a prayer of thanks. She had brought him home.

  The men moved them quickly from the boat on to the shore. A tingling at the back of her neck made her turn. She stared into the dark insolent eyes of the boy on the rocks. He said nothing, simply turned and walked away.

  The men carried the boy to shore, his mother ran to his side.

  “Mother,” he murmured.

  The woman bent close to hear him.

  Darla turned her head and gazed into the boy’s eyes that were filled with intelligence and gratitude. Her eyes went wide and her heart pounded against her chest. She pulled away from her mother and rushed to him.

  He held her hand and bit his bottom lip over and over. She bent her ear to his mouth but heard only a whisper. His grasp weakened. A smile spread across his face before water dribbled from his lips and his eyes clouded over. Nothing she or the others did could save the boy or console the grief-stricken mother. Her sobs continued as they carried him away.

  Wrapped in a blanket, her mother slid her arms around her as they sat on the shore.

  “What good is my gift if all I am is a useless witness?” She spat out the words.

  “You brought the boy to his mother for him to say goodbye. Maybe that is why you were here, not to save him, but to save her.”

  Darla turned to her mother, her anger fading as the words sank in.

  “How was I able to find him, bring him out of the water, and still survive?” she said softly.

  “The talisman I gave you,” her mother said pointing to her pouch.

  Darla stared at her mother. Had she heard her correctly? Without thinking, she touched the small bag. To her, it was something she always wore. Her brow wrinkled as she tried to make sense of her mother’s words.

  “From the beginning, you were an exceptional child. When you were born, I knew it was so.” Held close in her mother’s arms, Darla took comfort in her soothing words.

  “Yes, Mother. You always told me I was precious, strong, and special.”

  Her mother kissed her forehead.

  “You were born with a veil covering your head and face. A blessing,” her mother said. “You see things that no one else can see, but that is only one of your gifts. There is another.”

  Darla pull
ed away from her embrace.

  “Your talisman protects you in the water. That is why you were safe today. You must keep your ability to yourself. And no one must know about your talisman. While there are many who understand your gift, there are those less enlightened who think it …” Her mother’s arms tightened around her. “Unnatural. You must know it is a blessing.”

  A blessing her mother told her all those years ago. She still believed her mother was wrong. She pushed the visions away, denied them.

  Soon after the tragedy, Father became the leader of the Maritime Association and the family moved to Ellenbeich.

  She refused to travel to Ellenbeich by sea. She forswore swimming altogether. Her mother understood, but her father didn’t, not her avoidance of water or the vision that brought her to the shore. He claimed all her visions were a creation of her mind.

  Now thirteen years later she still didn’t swim and dreaded sailing. Instead, she traveled to the castle by land.

  Once she was away from Dundhragon her visions stopped. They were replaced with playful imaginings, an alternative happy ending to the tragedy. In her dreams, she, the boy, and her sea dragon swam and explored the hidden caves along the coast, scoured the bottom of the channel for treasure among the shipwrecks. As she grew older her imaginings with the boy and her sea dragon faded, until they were gone.

  Three months ago when she returned to the castle, the visions returned. Two visions persisted, the man’s face and the drowned boy’s lips.

  She was unable to remember the drowned boy’s features, not even the smile that had haunted her in those early days after the tragedy. All she imagined was him biting his lips and his raspy whisper.

  She let out a sigh. Perhaps both visions will be replaced by her sea dragon. That made the corners of her lips tip up into a smile.