Page 47 of Virelai's Hoard
In the chaos of pirates excitedly getting ready to search and plunder for treasure, Calla found Merrow.
“I’m trusting you with the Moonshadow,” she told the old man. She stepped closer, lowering her voice to a murmur, “And keep an eye on her, if you will.”
He didn’t need to be told any more than that. “Yes, captain.”
***
As the dinghies got lowered on the water, Calla’s skin crawled. Looking at the pirates good-naturedly ribbing each other, she convinced herself the shivering was from the cold, and from being so close to the salt-water. She looked down at it longingly, only just stopping herself from reaching her hand out and skimming her fingers across the surface. The compulsion was so strong it was physically painful for her to show this amount of restraint. But it was necessary. Just a while longer.
The Moonshadow shrunk in the distance as Draven pulled on the oars, his muscles rippling under his heaving. Soon, they entered the fog, and the world around them momentarily disappeared. Calla only knew the other pirates were still with her thanks to the soft grunts following their exertions, and the soft lapping of the water. If she closed her eyes and imagined she wasn’t here, braving an island said to eat people alive, this would’ve almost been therapeutic.
The silly thought kept her entertained until the small boat landed against the sand, and Draven offered her his hand. A cool look was all it took for his gesture to falter, and she leaped on the sand unaided, careful not to get her boots wet as she walked on shore.
“If you grovel now, I might let you get a taste of that rum,” Venn called from one of the dinghies as he made it ashore. “But you gotta do it all nice-like, believable. Eh, what do you say?”
Draven grinned, a flash of white splitting his dark beard. “I say fuck right off, Venn.”
Venn laughed. “Your loss!”
Calla barely stopped herself from snapping at them. Now was not the time to mess around, but a good-humored crew was better than a spooked one. Loud and confident was preferable, if only by a slight margin.
As the pirates kept poking at each other, Calla knelt on the sand and sifted it through her fingers. It was dry and coolfrom the night that passed, Aelion just now starting its warming ascent. The two suns’ rays didn’t penetrate the thick fog that hung like a curtain beyond the sandy beach, hiding the sea and the Moonshadow from view. If it weren’t for that fog, the island would have appeared like an oasis. Rich and soothing, with lush vegetation, the clear ripple of a river flowing just a dozen feet from where they landed, and a gentle wind rustling through the trees.
Her crew’s shoulders relaxed visibly as they took in the visage.
Calla’s didn’t.
She let her voice carry to the crew dispersing around the sandy beach. “This is not the time to get distracted,” she admonished, and it was enough for the others to loosely gather in their chosen teams. “The ones with me, we will follow along that river, see where it leads.” Calla turned to Sable, turning the corner of her lips up. “Sable, since you’re so eager to put your machete to use…” She gestured to the thick of the forest. There were no paths in sight. To the snickers of her own group, she added, “Try not to get lost. I would hate to have to replace you.”
Sable scoffed. “No one could replace me.”
Calla looked at her first mate for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded in acknowledgment. “We’ll meet back here when Aelion sets. May the best team win.”
15. Roots and Ruin
Sable
Sable searched through the supplies they brought along and got a hold of her spare machete, tossing it over to Venn. “Here,” she said. “You’re gonna help me cut a path through the forest.”
Her gaze fell on Thorian next. Obviously, the quartermaster hadn’t joined her group because he favored her over Calla. Sable had known them both for long enough to recognize this as just another episode of that twisted game he and the captain entertained themselves with–about who could be the biggest thorn in each other’s side. She really didn’t care for it. Especially now. It meant she couldn’t trust him at her back. He might try to sabotage her and make her look bad to the others.
“Thorian, you’ll close the line. Make sure no one’s getting the jump on us.”
Thatshe trusted him with. They were still part of the same crew, after all.
They approached the edge of the jungle in silence, and Sable picked a path where the vegetation seemed less thick. Wasting no time in pulling her blade out, she started hacking. Efficient and merciless. Venn followed close at her elbow. Their machetes sliced through reaching branches and thick undergrowth as if through butter, and the severed plants fell at their feet withbarely a sound. The air pressed thick and hot around them. Dry. The breeze whistling through the trees made Sable’s skin crawl.
Something was wrong. The thought hung persistent and oppressive, like the heat. This wasn’t what a junglefeltlike.
“The trees are weird,” Ignatius grumbled somewhere at her back, his voice barely rising above the sounds of Sable’s and Venn’s labored breaths, the pump of blood in her ears.
“Weird how?” Venn asked, heaving. He paused to glance over his shoulder when the gunner didn’t bother answering, but Ignatius stayed silent. A careless shrug, another hack of the machete, a soft grunt as his blade caught in the bark of a tree. He tugged it free, briefly inspecting it for dents. “Doesn’t look like we needed to worry about this island so much. You know, maybe someone lived here once, back way before the sea banished us all to Vareth, and they didn’t want any visitors, so they spread rumors to keep everyone away. Then years passed, everyone died, and the rumors shifted to legend.” A self-satisfied nod to himself, then a soft chuckle as he passed his free hand through his hair. “Can’t believe we were so worried about it we all hadnightmares. Talk about an overreaction.”
Calla would’ve liked this explanation. When he was away from his brother, Venn was nearly tolerable. Not that Sable would ever tell him that when he would’ve clearly preferred being on the captain’s team. She kept hacking.
Before long, a clear path opened to her left. They took it. Sable didn’t sheathe her blade, but gripped it tighter as she led the way through the narrow path. At her back, boots fell over the earth, the following pirates silent but for their heavy breaths. As they passed through, sharp branches scraped at her face, her skin, her clothes, prodding and tugging and trying to hold her back. But that was nothing. The heat was nothing. It was the smell that threw Sable off. Her nose scrunched in distaste. It was mild,familiar, and entirely out of her grasp, niggling at the back of her mind like an annoying insect.
Something else did, too.
