CHAPTER THREE
I doubted my ability for any task at all—every uneven step, the name that rang through my mind that felt as if it didn’t belong to me, and my past just…
gone. The job ahead was just as empty, something I was expected to do but couldn’t even begin to imagine.
I caught myself on the railing while the ship drifted into the dock of Iredale as if even it had more sense than I did.
Studying the crew from the main deck steadied me as they worked independently, yet somehow also simultaneously to moor the ship.
Jun hurled a thick rope to a nearby worker on the harbor, who caught it with ease and secured it to the dock.
Zahara steered the vessel into position with a wheel nearly the size of her body from a raised platform, and Calvin adjusted the billowing sails to guide the shifting wind.
“We’re heading into town to get some food, gear, and—gods willing—clothes that actually fit you,” Calvin teased with a sly smirk as he inspected the oversized ivory tunic and sable pants I wore.
It suddenly made me all too aware of the wind that whipped through the unflattering material.
I’d never tell him that Zahara’s offering of her too-large clothing warmed me greater than anything I thought I’d ever worn before—and not only in temperature, but in solace.
I huffed. “There’s nothing wrong with my clothes.”
“Keep telling yourself that and maybe, with the luck of goddess Neyari, it may be true,” he laughed. “When we return, we will catch you up on our last two years.”
If they hadn’t completed the task in two years, how ever would I be the missing link?
I couldn’t produce a response, uneasiness creeping along my spine with every inch closer to solid ground. My heart palpitated inside my chest until it ached, tenseness overpowering the tenderness that still wracked my body.
“Have you ever seen land before?” In the hours leading up to docking, Calvin enjoyed questioning me about my understanding as if doing so would bring them all back. Or maybe he didn’t believe me.
I hesitated, scouring my mind for an answer, hoping the memories might resurface all at once, but only images shuffled through my hazed thoughts—light flickering off the surface from below, the void that skulked like a predator assessing its prey, coral homes that opened on command to allow finned dwellers inside.
“It looks… different in the depths. Darker. More dangerous.” It was the only thing I could bring forth, and even that seemed to let the hopeful Calvin down.
The crew worked to solve why there was nothing left in my mind when they worked to purge the day's events from me, but we all came up empty handed. Calvin settled on the possibility that I hit my head during the sacrifice itself, but the idea sent scratching sensations along my nerves.
My vision faded to black as I scoured my mind deeper—a lone faint light beam piercing through an underwater chamber, casting attention to the particles that swirled within.
In a grimy corner, I saw myself rocking back and forth, holding my knees to my chest, but the strange memory dissipated in a flash. The knee ache remained, though.
I barely had time to catch my breath before Zahara’s hand slapped firmly on my shoulder, sending my heart and head whirling.
“Well, I wish I could say it was any better up here,” she cut in from behind. “Here, this is for you.”
“You can’t do that to her, Zah,” Calvin bit.
Damn right. I already hated the skittish feeling I had at merely existing.
She extended a compact auburn-hilted dagger to me, odd markings etching into its reflective surface.
“Will I need it?” I murmured, voice thick with hesitation.
My fingers twisted nervously at the hem of my sleeve, but Zahara refused to let me back away from the weapon.
The pirate reached forward and gripped my uninjured wrist, placing the dagger firmly into my palm.
An order she insisted be obeyed. And I was willing to oblige the woman who saved my life.
“Keep this in your bones, girl. You can’t ever be too damn prepared out here,” Zahara warned, her eyes sharp but gentle, and she pivoted briskly and charged off with Jun treading at her side.
Her warning brought sweat to the nape of my neck, my eyes scanning the surroundings in search of what she feared.
Calvin’s lips tilted softly toward me, his arm outstretched toward the gangplank. It was enough to convince me to follow the crew upon the land of the Terraguard Bound.
Beyond the harbor buzzed with life, but I focused on the stiffness in my legs as they loosened with each step into town. The crew seemed to mimic my pace, a blessing they did without trying, and when I finally looked up, my heart ached to see every inch of the land.
Ship bells, merchants shouting, and the sound of cheery discussions surged around us. Mingling scents of roasting meats and the salty tang of the sea thickened the air. Horse-drawn carts flew through the bustling village, kicking up lingering dust.
I paused just to relish in it. Calvin wandered behind, hesitating to allow me time to take in the new scenery.
“Welcome to Gringham, city of merchants on Iredale island and home of the finest scams in all the Bounds,” Calvin announced and gestured around.
“All the Bounds? As in more than one?”
He scoffed. “Seafolk skip school, huh? The Bounds–you know–the Aetherkin, Terraguard, Oceanwrought, and the Shadeborne. Sky, land, sea, and the underrealm.” Calvin used his hands to name them off, layering them from top to bottom, from sky to grave.
“And you’ve been to all of them?” We started the trek back to catch up with Zahara and Jun, Calvin jogging to meet my side.
He shrugged, a wry smirk playing across his lips. “Not exactly, but I’m pretty sure they all know who’s really in charge.”
I rolled my eyes, and it almost felt natural. That man was one compliment away from proposing to himself.
“This is the Terraguard Bound?” I asked, and Calvin nodded once. “And I came from the Oceanwrought Bound?” He nodded again.
There was nothing I was more eager for than to understand our role in ending the sacrifices; however, to do that, I needed to actually know what I willingly signed myself up for.
Sweat drenched the crew’s worn bodies as we approached the first building. Even in the blistering heat as distant storm clouds rolled in, Jun’s hood stuck to his head. I couldn’t help but wonder what he hid beneath the cloak.
Bars barricaded the open windows, the door ironically left ajar on the dilapidated wooden plank structure. I tilted my head to read the slanted sign, years of age and weather making it near impossible to make out.
Anchor’s Rest Shop.
Zahara entered first, and the rest of us followed closely behind.
Sconces peppered the walls, offering slight visibility in the dim shop.
Shelves covered the floor, rows built from wood that collected different types of gear in hoards.
The scent of smoke billowed throughout as the shopkeeper puffed through a crooked pipe, the tendrils curling around shelves crammed with ship supplies, rust-specked weapons, and all manner of seafaring oddities.
Unsure how to help, I casually strolled through the aisles while the crew moved amongst the shelves themselves, carrying handfuls of supplies. My fingers lingered longer on the blades, the weapons that curved and bent to cling to the wielder's prey.
As they pressed toward the front for purchase, my eyes caught right above the head of the shopkeeper. A Missing Poster printed on inky parchment, yellowed with age, the edges curled and brittle unveiled a secret I was sure the keeper was not aware of.
The eyes, the curls, that feline grin. Every detail in the sketch resembled Calvin. No, not just a resemblance. A mirror.
And now we were going to end up in handcuffs.
Below the photograph, I made out the words.
Missing: Benjamin Wisterbow
Reward 10,000 Gold
Calvin—or Benjamin—confidently strolled toward the front desk, meeting the middle-aged shopkeeper who stared down at her journal, a lit cigar wedged between her yellowed fingernails.
He chanced a bemused glance back at me, and I shot my wild gaze toward the poster, trying to get him to notice.
He trailed my line of sight, but when he returned my stare again, he knowingly smirked and flashed a wink.
He is out of his mind.
Calvin leaned against the desk before the woman, a charming smile intact with Zahara and Jun at leisure behind—a cohesive force running a seamless, common operation.
He reached for the shopkeeper’s hand that rested upon her journal and slid his over, closing the bound book to get her attention.
Her interest peaked when she laid her dusky brown eyes on the young male.
Fan club of one.
Watching became brutal as they stared at each other for a lingering moment.
“Will that be everything you need?” she purred, fingers trailing across the journal’s worn edge, inching their way up his arm.
“Unless you’ve got anything else worth sticking around for,” he replied, leaning in further, just blurring the line between joke and invitation.
A cackling laugh escaped her chapped ruby lips, high pitched and strained in the middle.
He slid three golden coins across the desk, never breaking eye contact, as the crew collected their supplies, and we all slipped out quickly.
“Benjamin? What’s going on with that?” I shot under my breath to Calvin… or Benjamin.
A chuckle escaped his lips, and I was caught between wanting to push for more answers and wanting to hear him laugh again. The lie festered fury beneath my skin as if the hours of knowing them meant enough for the truth. Especially after I’d given them every bit of knowledge I had.
“Wait until you find out what Jun did before joining us.”
The hooded male punched Calvin’s shoulder without looking, sending him into a fit of hysterics.