Chapter 28 Tales by the Fire
Riley
Night had set, the crew was celebrating, and Riley was miserable.
She poked at the crackling fire with her stick, turning the potatoes roasting among the embers while the rest of the pirates drank and danced and sang around her.
Her hand was so close to the flames her skin was red, just on the edge of getting singed, but she did not flinch from the heat.
It distracted her from the abject failure that today had been.
From the gaping hole in her chest, yawning wider with every bell that passed.
Sable was not gone. She couldn’t be.
And yet every bark of laughter grated on her nerves, making her teeth grit, and she kept her eyes trained on the flames to the point they watered just to avoid glaring at everyone around her.
It wasn’t the crew’s fault they hadn’t found Sable. They had tried. Calla had tried. She’d nearly gotten them all killed trying.
No, Riley was mad at herself. Everyone had done everything in their power to follow her tracks.
Except for her.
A hand settling on her shoulder startled her. She looked up to meet kind blue eyes. A deeper blue than Calla’s, steadying rather than penetrating. Nyxen’s. “I’ll take your place. Go mingle, Riley. Crawl your way out of that head of yours.”
Riley huffed and turned back to the coals. “I’m fine where I am.”
Nyxen crouched beside her, bumping shoulders. “No. You’re not.”
She bit back what she wanted to say to that. And then she said it anyway. “You shouldn’t be either. Nothing about this begs celebrating.”
“Maybe not,” Nyxen conceded. “But not everyone here is in love with the first mate.”
Riley never blushed. It was not a thing she did.
It did not suit her. But she felt her face growing hot all the same.
This was the second time someone had thrown that word around in her presence.
It was a bit of a reach, wasn’t it? She didn’t think she’d ever used it.
Certainly no one had ever wasted it–the word or the feeling–on her.
“Not everyone here is best pals with Kittredge, either. But they’ve signed up for this mission anyway, even though there’s no reward or treasure at the end. So do it for the crew, if not for yourself. Everyone’s been steering clear of your pit of self-despair.”
When Riley looked at him again, his smile was both mocking and fond. “Is this you trying to make me feel better? Because that’s a funny way of doing it.”
Nyxen just shrugged.
A surly, ‘The crew can go hang for all I care’ was just on the tip of her tongue, but she’d been learning to look deeper than her immediate impulses, and so she knew that would be a lie.
She sighed, and without meaning to, she glanced at the town’s newly re-opened tavern, where Thorian’s booming laughter was echoing off the walls and into the night. Where Calla was.
“Trouble in paradise?” Nyxen asked, not unkindly.
Riley stiffened. “No,” she said, poking at the charred potatoes some more.
Then she realized, and she rolled them away from the coals with a start.
With Nyxen’s searching gaze burning into the side of her face, she reached to peel one for herself, only to drop it with a hiss.
She still had to get used to using her bare hands for things.
Nyxen leaned over and carefully loaded the burning-hot potatoes onto a tray.
Boarley snatched it away in passing, before either had the time to flag him.
He and Pip were at the top of their game tonight, keeping everyone fed and fed well.
An aroma of smoked fish and roasted potatoes permeated the air, and it made even Riley’s stomach growl, as much as she had little appetite right now.
“You know she’s doing everything she can, right?” Nyxen asked, softer, only for her ears to hear.
Riley had nothing else to distract herself with.
She braced her elbows against her thighs, looking as the crackling, burning fire sent flickering licks of flame up into the moonless sky.
The smoke reminded her of Sable’s scent so much she wanted to cry.
It was why she’d volunteered for the roasting. A twisted sort of self-torture.
“It’s not that,” she said quietly.
“Then why–”
“You’re right.” Riley stood abruptly, hunting for the first source of distraction she could get her eyes on. “I should go mingle,” she said, and left Nyxen crouching alone by the fire to join a small group of pirates.
They were clustered around Haddock, because of course they were. Sabine, the gunner, was there, too, but she barely gave Riley a tight-lipped smile before looking away. Despite herself, Riley’s lips twitched in amusement.
Then she sobered, because she still felt Nyxen’s searching gaze itching between her shoulder blades.
She shouldn’t have been surprised he’d noticed.
The rest of the crew must’ve, too. She hadn’t approached Calla ever since Eryx had broken the news about the compass–not because she hadn’t wanted to, but because she couldn’t.
Shortly after Calla’s decision to steer into the storm, Riley had made a choice of her own.
And if Calla looked at her, really looked, she’d know.
“Why don’t you tell us more about the Heart, old man?” Gadrielle asked. Their boatswain lounged on the grass, drink in hand and a wry twist to her lips. “I get the feeling you know more about it than you’re letting on.”
Eryx sat next to her, and they frowned between Gadrielle and Haddock, a considering tilt to their head.
Then, imperceptibly, their face cleared in some sort of realization.
Riley was intrigued enough by that to take her own seat at the edge of the group.
After the heat of the fire, the light breeze stirring the blades of grass made her shiver, but the ground was warm beneath her, and she settled.
Haddock was the only one with a chair, and he perched on it as if upon a place of high honor.
He looked down upon them all from his seat, and Riley’s skin prickled in unease at the critical look in his eyes.
As if he were judging them. It lasted only for the span of a breath.
Then the old man sighed, turning his palms up in surrender.
Riley frowned to see them gloved. No one else on ship had flinched away after touching her marks. Some superstition, then?
“Maybe you’re ready,” Haddock said, drawing Riley from her head. “I can tell you how it all started.”
“He’s telling a story?” Pip called from near the fire. Then, “He’s telling a story!”
Just like that, the group sitting around Haddock doubled in size, and Riley wasn’t watching from the edge anymore.
Haddock smiled minutely. When he started talking, his voice went deeper, different, and Riley listened as if in a trance.
“There was once a woman who wished to learn the meaning of fear,” Haddock said, voice low and rhythmic as the beat of waves against the hull. “That woman was named Kass.”
“For years, she searched the lands, chasing the feeling that eluded her.
Everyone spoke of it–how it made hearts race, knees tremble, hands shake.
Just a flicker of it, she thought, and she would be satisfied.
She hunted beasts that made others flee, crossed haunted valleys, rode through plague and fire, and still she did not find it.
“When all the land had failed her, she turned to the sea.
“She swam with the sharks and judged them dull. She met sirens and called them beautiful. She looked into the eyes of a kraken and found only curiosity. So when sailors whispered of an island where a true monster dwelled–a creature born of the Abyss itself–Kass set course, weary and unshaken still.
“As her ship neared the shore, the waters rose like shattered glass, and a shadow vast enough to swallow the suns rose from the deep. The creature’s eyes burned with cold malice. Her crew fell to their knees.
“But Kass,” Haddock’s mouth curved faintly, “only folded her arms. ‘Is this what passes for terrifying these days?’ she asked.”
“The creature stilled. No one had ever reacted to its presence with anything other than abject fear. It had no name–only a title whispered by the deep. Scion of the Abyss. Yet in the face of this mortal’s scowl, she chose one for herself.
She called herself Leliana. Then she reached, taking shape of bone and salt and fury, to pinch Kass by the back of her shirt and lift her to eye-level.
“‘You are not scared?’ Leliana asked.
“A frustrated sigh came in reply, for Kass had heard that question all of her life. ‘What can you do to me that’s supposed to scare me? Kill me? Even a rusted knife could manage that.’
“In that moment, Leliana knew–she wanted to keep this mortal for herself.
‘I am a scion of the Abyss,’ she said, drawing ever taller.
‘You have intruded upon my territory. You have failed to show me proper respect. Worst of all, you have insulted me. For that, you shall be my prisoner until the end of time. Do you have anything to say in response?’
“Kass tilted her head, boots dangling above the sea. ‘Here?’ she asked. ‘I can’t breathe underwater. My imprisonment would prove rather short.’
“The Scion blinked, then carried her to the island and set her down. There, she took the shape of a human–still strange, still terrible, but smaller. For ease of conversation, she told herself.
“‘Show me around my prison, then,’ Kass demanded.
“That seemed reasonable. Leliana obeyed and waited for her prisoner’s verdict with bated breath.
“In the end, Kass said, ‘Yes, this will do. You will have to bring me food.’
“And so it was settled. Though she was her prisoner, Leliana did everything Kass asked of her. She built her shelter, hunted her food, even brought her seeds from faraway shores, and wyvern cubs for company.
“The Abyss, deep and dreaming, watched through its scion’s eyes as the days turned to months, and the months to years, waiting for Leliana to tire of playing with her food.
“The opposite happened.
“The two stopped pretending they didn’t love each other.
“As soon as the words were spoken, the tether between the Abyss and its only scion slackened. It opened one lazy eye and summoned her back. Leliana’s pleas for freedom stirred no mercy, but they roused a question. What was so special about this mortal?
“The Abyss reached for Kass for an answer, and Leliana stilled. She made a bargain. She would remain beneath the waters in exchange for Kass’ life. The Abyss agreed.
“When Kass woke, she was alone.
“She searched the island, the shores, the sea. She cried and called and waited–for days, months, seasons–but the waves gave no answer. Her chest tightened. Her hands trembled. A strange thing crawled up her spine, whispering of loss and loneliness.
“That,” Haddock said quietly, “was fear.”
“Leliana heard it all. She told herself Kass would move on, build another life, forget her, for she was only mortal, and their memories were short.
“It did not happen.
“One day, Leliana could bear it no longer. She broke the surface–to explain, to say goodbye.
“But the Abyss was watching. The moment its scion broke their bargain, it struck her down.”
Haddock’s gaze swept the gathered crew. No one moved.
“Leliana collapsed into Kass’ arms, lifeless. And that was when Kass knew terror.
“‘Give her back,’ she cried. ‘Give her back.’ Her sobs became a prayer, to the skies, to the depths, to anything that would listen.
“‘Why?’ the Abyss asked, a whisper on the breeze of the ocean.
“‘Because she’s mine.’
“The Abyss laughed, one long quake that split the island and boiled the sea. ‘She is not.’
“Kass pleaded still. ‘Anything,’ she said. ‘I will give anything.’
“For one long moment, the Abyss considered. ‘Your life,’ it said. ‘I would have your life.’ It wished to know. Would this mortal truly die for a creature she didn’t even comprehend the makings of?
“Kass did.
“Leliana awoke in her lover’s arms as the Abyss watched on in warm satisfaction. ‘Nothing will take you from me now,’ it whispered.
“But once again, its scion did something unexpected.
“Leliana, gazing upon Kass’ slack features, could not fathom a lifetime of such pain. No, better to forget. Better to feel nothing at all. But first, she would have vengeance.
“She tore open her own chest and pulled out her heart, staring as it beat in her palm, crimson and bright as a dying sun.
‘Take it, if you dare,’ she told the Abyss.
‘It will twist your every wish as you twisted hers. It will not stop until you are destroyed.’ And she poured everything she had into the Heart–her hurt, her power, her anger, until it darkened and hardened in the palm of her hand.
With the last of her strength, she cast it into the sea.
“The Abyss did not dare touch it.” Haddock peered at them from beneath his white brows. “Neither should any of you.”
Riley, like everyone else, was stunned into silence.
Let her sacrifice herself. That was the message, wasn’t it? That loving someone meant letting them go to their death.
Fuck that.
With a scoff, Riley rose to her feet and walked off in a huff, nearly stumbling upon a half-empty bottle of something at the edge of the still-gathered pirates. She moved to swipe it for herself, but one of the pirates slapped her hand away.
“Get your own,” they said. “I had to play for that.”
Riley frowned. “Play?”
They jabbed a thumb towards the open tavern, drawing the bottle to their chest with their other hand.
She looked between the pirate and the open doors, and then at the rest of the crew, and only now did Riley notice how strange it was that only some of them were drinking, and how those with bottles weren’t sharing a single drop of what they had.
Play.
She did need a distraction. And a fucking drink. Alcohol might be exactly what she needed for her plan to finally start fucking working.
She headed for the tavern.