Cerulean Isle (28 page)
“Jacob! I’m sorry… I…,” cried Grant.
I fell to the sand, one hand clutching my wound and the other clutching my sword. “Get him,” I groaned.
Grant went for L’Ollon. Weary from battle, his offense was awkward; his broken arm an obvious hindrance. The old captain was quick and slipped away from the streaking rapier. After creating enough distance, he drew his pistols and ordered Grant to yield. I fought the pain in my side, stood up, and charged.
L’Ollon turned a pistol on me. “Halt or the cooper dies,” he shouted.
I had no choice. The vile captain stood with his back to the ocean and the falling sun.
“For ten long years,” L’Ollon hissed, “I have searched for you backstabbing bastards. You could have had a great career among my crew but, like foolish children, you chose to throw it all away.” He sucked in another breath. “Every time I breathe I think of you, Jacob.” He touched his chest. “What did you leave me with? One lung and one goal. At long last I will reclaim my fortune and rid myself of your troublesome existence, just as your father did long ago.” The breath from his one lung screeched in my ears.
“As for you, Cooper. That old dream of piracy still burns inside you. One time you asked to be an articled crew member; in honor of that memory, I make you an offer. I will give you half of the gold on this island. We will sail up the north coast to meet some allies,” he wheezed, “and you can buy yourself a galleon and a crew to sail her. All of your dreams will come true. Just drop your blade and stand by my side. What say you?”
“Half of the gold?”
“Grant, don’t listen to him.”
“Aye. Think of the power of gold. You lived the last ten years in a hilltop farm bought with pirated gold. You had comfort, food, drink, and women aplenty. Everyone knew your name. It was all from the power of gold. All that was but a taste of what I offer.”
“What about protection? I want articled protection from you, your men, and all of your affiliates.”
“Grant! No!” The pain in my side was unbearable, but it was nothing to the pain in my heart.
How could he even consider this?
I remembered our old argument as children when I had asked him the question.
“In the end, we get only one chance to choose either right or wrong, the final moment when one decision makes the difference between becoming the person you’ve dreamt of being or becoming the person you feared. What will you choose?”
“Aye. You will be fully articled and fully protected. Look around you. See what I see. Aside from the gold and jewels, this land is desolate.” L’Ollon breathed. “These men are unworthy of your talent, your passion. Join me, Grant of Rosewing. Stand by me, Jean L’Ollon, and become a master of the sea.”
Grant looked at me with tears in his eyes. His rapier fell to the white sand. He turned away and stood next to L’Ollon. The captain wheezed. I stared at Grant, but he would not look me in the eye. My head grew dizzy with confusion. I felt the handle of my sword slip from my grasp. It clanged atop Grant’s rapier. My bloody wound pulsed and ached. I was losing too much blood. My knees trembled, and I collapsed.
“Say hello to your mother for me, Jacob,” remarked L’Ollon. He lifted his pistol.
My mother. The ocean.
I looked away from L’Ollon. I saw the sun diminishing. The ocean and sky were a swirling mosaic of purple and orange. The water sparkled as it caught the last hues of daylight. Tiny stars drifted on the water…starlight…the Merfolk. They were there, behind L’Ollon and ready for battle. Lord Sydin floated tall and effortlessly, clutching a readied bow of silver and bone. Driften was poised beside Sydin, his bow and arrow aimed. Manta emerged and nodded to me. Then I saw Cora. Her face broke from the water cautiously. It all made sense then—Grant was distracting L’Ollon so the Mer could get in position.
Sydin pulled back the bowstring. I ducked away from L’Ollon’s pistol and in that instant, I heard the twanging release of Sydin’s arrow and the immediate thud of the shot finding its mark. L’Ollon stumbled forward and clutched the arrow protruding from his chest. Grant moved in and snatched the pistols. He threw one to me, and we turned them on our enemy.
“Impossible…” L’Ollon tugged the arrow and cried out in pain.
Driften’s arrows began to appear in L’Ollon’s body. Blood sprayed as they drove into him. He staggered and swayed but remained on his feet. Globs of scarlet spewed from his mouth and nose. “No! My gold! I want my—”
The last arrow silenced him as it entered his forehead. Jean L’Ollon, captain of the
Obsidian,
fell to the sand. His cloak draped over his lifeless body, and the white sand around him darkened with blood. Grant put my arm over his shoulders and lifted me to my feet. We turned away from L’Ollon and walked toward the rolling surf.
The Mer swam toward the shore. Lord Sydin greeted me. “Jacob. I would like to apologize. I am sorry for abandoning your people. My heart was crying and…”
“There is no need for apologies. I share the grief for young Brine. I regret that I did not get a chance to know him.”
“There will be plenty of time for that once he is fully well.”
“You mean that he is not—”
“No. The wound is serious but not fatal. He will survive; he is
my
son after all.”
Driften, Manta and Cora joined us. “Jacob, you are bleeding!” Cora exclaimed.
“I will be fine.”
“Good,” piped Manta. He came out of the water, his powerful lower body coiled beneath him. “There is more that needs to be done. The enemy’s ship is still a threat. Cora, how many men did you see aboard?”
“Fifty after one hundred. We have little time. The
Obsidian
is readying her cannon. We have no defense.”
“With no defense we have only one option.” Manta cracked his knuckles. “Offense.”
“Manta,” Sydin commanded, “gather the others of your trade. Quickly.”
“Yes, my lord.” Manta dove away.
“What do you have in mind, Sydin?” I asked.
“Manta is a Wrecker. He and his team will go beneath the ship and pry apart its hull board by board. The
Obsidian
cannot fire if it is underwater.”
Bart noticed the blood streaming from my side. He tore his shirt into strips and tied them around my wound, a crude but effective bandage. The deep rapier wound had weakened me and my head ached.
“Should we take you back to the sloop?” asked Bart.
“No. I want to stay on the island.”
They brought me to a smooth boulder and helped me sit against it. The blue rock, warm from the day’s sun, soothed my body. I wanted to close my eyes and sleep, but the sudden boom of cannon fire echoed over the sea. A wide portion of a nearby ledge was blown to shards. Small boulders smashed into the sand. The
Obsidian
had begun its assault.
Where was Manta? Would the wreckers make it to the ship before the fall of Cerulean Isle?
The beach quaked from another explosion. A cannonball thundered into the powdery sand behind us. A thick cloud of white fell around us. Our crew hollered to clear the area, but there was no safe place to go. I looked back and saw four of our men run toward the cerulean forest. A horrifying eruption broke the stone entrance over them. Massive chunks of crystal fell upon them.
Waylin motioned for Grant and me to join the rest of the crew in the rowboats. The Merfolk had tied all of the mooring lines together, ready to pull the boats away from the island. Waylin called out to me, but I could not understand him over the roaring cannon and breaking island.
The Water People disappeared under the waves and began to move our boats away from the island. The
Obsidian’s
hull flashed as it let loose its firepower. Cannonballs blasted through the surrounding water, each shot striking a random place. I thought this odd. Something had altered their aim.
The ship’s stern was falling lower than the bow. The
Obsidian
was sinking rear first. Manta and his team would be deep under the water, Manta’s mighty fists pounding the body of the ship, splitting and cracking the old wood, while the other Mer peeled away the planks. I imagined water flooding the bilge and the old barrel hold where Grant and I had spent so many days and nights.
The
Obsidian’s
bow lifted higher and the stern sank into the water. A bright orange fire engulfed the main deck. I could hear the screams of the pirates and the creaking of the tilting masts. The Caribbean Sea raged around the ship. Several loud explosions lit the darkening sky. The three masts broke and fell into the water as the sea swallowed the figurehead of the Spaniard corpse. A dark and almost tangible silence fell over the ocean. The
Obsidian
was gone forever.
The Merfolk of Cerulean Isle honored us. They worked to ensure that my crewmates and I were comfortable and healing. Cora’s brother, Driften, and our tribal seafarer, Konopo, formed a fast friendship, sharing much in the ways of medicine and cultural pride. The two worked tirelessly to tend to the wounds of men and Mer. A soothing paste was concocted from strange seaweed found around the coral reefs and when applied to injured areas of the body, it numbed and closed the skin. Within two days time, I felt like my old self again, having enjoyed meals of fish, clams, and ocean vegetation.
Sydin reminded us of the deal we had agreed upon. The Merfolk of Cerulean Isle needed a new place to store their gold; it could not be certain who else followed in L’Ollon’s wake. What enemies hunted him? What bands of seafaring scavengers sought the fabled gold of the Merfolk? We would honor them in turn by transporting their empire and guarding their secrets.
Lord Sydin instructed Cora to lead us to the heart of the isle and show us the reason for L’Ollon’s obsession. Grant, Waylin, Konopo, Bart, and I followed Cora Star into the dark chambers that we had stayed away from before. We walked through the twisting damp corridors while she swam beneath us, following the waterways that led to the different rooms.
Each deep cavern and damp grotto was different than the one before it. Some had arching ceilings; others were low with dangerous stone teeth. We entered caverns that were dry with a single, bottomless pool in the center; we came to areas that required us to wade through waist deep water. Cora led us into a small room with a circular pool in the center.
“This is the waterway to the Golden Cavern,” Cora explained. “You must swim now, but I fear you will not be able to hold your breath long enough, as the waterway is very long.”
Cora thought for a moment, then smiled. “I have a wonderful solution. Please wait here. I shall not be long.”
The Mermaiden slipped down into the pool, her lovely purple fin fluttering from the water as she dove away.
After half of an hour, we saw motion in the pool. I looked for the rainbow hues of her hair and the shimmering purple of her fin, but I saw only white and gray forms tumbling and turning in the water. A smoothed gray face with a long snout and beady eyes broke from the surface. Grant leapt back, startled by the creature. The gray face opened its long mouth to reveal a row of smooth white teeth.
“Relax,” chuckled Waylin. “It’s only a dolphin.”
“I know that,” retorted Grant. “I thought it was some strange…Mer-thing.”
Four more gray faces emerged, and then Cora appeared in the center of the group. The dolphins dipped in and out of the water playfully. Cora caressed their snouts and heads.
“These are my friends,” she said. “They will help you through the waterway. If you take hold of the dorsal fin, the dolphin will guide you wherever you wish to go. It is fun for them and fast for you.”
Konopo leapt into the pool with a laugh. The dolphins swam around him, playfully nudging his sides. He motioned for us to join him. “Come now, Captain Grant, or would you rather Cora bring a shark?”
We held tightly to the fins of the dolphins and raced through the waterway. Cora led the way and I could see how she swam. Her fin moved up and down in cadence with her thrusting hips. The gold and purple banner flowed like liquid silk. She was an undersea deity in my eyes, a peaceful female creature who lived in a world of wet crystal light and warm soft sand. In that instant, coursing through the waterways, I felt like one of them. I felt connected to their world.
The magic ended, and we emerged from the water. A vast, domed cavern opened above us. It was filled with riches from near and distant lands. Cora sat at the edge of the pool as we walked around in speechless awe.
Gold, polished and unpolished, forged and raw, was piled, stacked, and crated. Nuggets, coins, statues, jewelry, weapons, all of it made of lustrous yellow gold. Stone tables held heaping piles of jewels, silver reales and eights, shards of gemstones and sacks of diamonds. The cavern was so full of gold that there was scarcely room to walk.
“Welcome to the Golden Cavern,” said Cora. “There are many smaller rooms like this throughout the island.”
“Cora,” I said in wonder, “did all of this belong to L’Ollon?”
“Not all of it. We have collected this cache for many decades. Some of it was recovered from L’Ollon’s fallen fleet, but you must remember where he got it. The gold he claimed was his had been taken from other kingdoms of men. Those men took it from others and so it goes. It does not belong to anyone for very long but still, humans keep killing each other for it.”
“Perhaps one day,” I said, “mankind will see the true wealth in this world and treasure the things that are more beautiful than gold.”
“Like what?” Grant asked as he examined his reflection in a golden shield.
“Like the sunrise over a calm sea,” replied Cora. “Like the silver moonlight trapped in droplets of water.”
“Like the warmth of a fire and the laughter of friends,” I added. Cora’s amethyst eyes looked deeply into mine. “Like the times of quiet when you can hear the ocean even though it’s far away.”
“And,” added Cora, “when you can hear the voice of the person you never thought you would know, and when you close your eyes so you do not have to see him leave.”
