Pieces of Jade (Pirates of Orea) (28 page)

“Hold,” William interrupted, putting his arm out to stop the captain. “Something isn’t right.”

I shaded my eyes, trying to see what had spooked William but saw nothing, and I said as much.

“Hush, you old fool,” the captain snapped. “If William says something is wrong, then it is.”

“Stay here,” William said. “I’ll scout ahead.” William spared me a glance before opening the door and slipping into the room.

I stared at the doors, marveling at the masterwork of my ancestors. I rested my hand against the cool stone of the doorway. Here I was, a living descendant of the
Myleans making contact with a relic that hadn’t been touched in a thousand years. I pressed my head to the frame and closed my eyes, savoring the experience. I could almost hear music floating to my ears, the airy sounds of reed flutes and the percussive staccato of drums.

I trailed a finger against the elaborate door but the captain grabbed my hand and pulled it back.

“Didn’t you learn anything from the altar, Sheridan? Don’t touch anything! There’s something ghostly about this place!”

I blushed, ashamed I had forgotten so soon. “I’m sorry.”

He shuffled from foot to foot. “Something isn’t right—I’m going after William. Stay here.”

He disappeared through the doors.

I leaned around the door, and peered into the room beyond the doorway. I was careful not to let any part of me cross the threshold. “William?” My voice echoed back at me through the chamber and my eyes grew wide as I took in another room filled with skeletons.

“Do you hear that?” the captain asked, reappearing from around the doorway. His body was tense and he held his breath, as if straining to hear something quiet. I turned my head, listening for anything out of the ordinary.

He and William were the only living people in the room, and yet . . . I could hear something. The music I thought I had imagined was growing louder, vibrant, buoyant, and very real as it carried across the threshold, echoing around the chamber behind me.

“What is that?” I breathed.

A flash of light emanated from the threshold between us, blinding me with its brilliance. The captain and I were both thrown backwards, flinging me back from the room and the captain deeper inside it. With a hum and a crackle like the chime of bells, a magical barrier flared to life inside the doorway. Tiny pin pricks of light danced across an invisible plane.

As quickly as I could, I picked myself up and ran towards it.

“William?” I called. I could see him moving inside the room, but he didn’t answer. Afraid to touch the shimmering wall, I held my hand out tentatively. When nothing happened I slowly eased my hand forward until my skin made contact with the barrier. Tiny prickles of energy bounded throughout my body. From out of nowhere an entire assembly sprang to life inside the room, complete with costumes and music.

“Sheridan, what are you doing?” the captain yelled from his place inside the chamber.

“It’s not me,” I said, inspecting the magical divider. Remembering my blood opening the outer barrier, I picked up a sharp rock and pressed its edge into my thumb until it prickled with blood. I took a drop and spread it across the door. Nothing happened.

With a frown I glanced inside the room, where the captain stared open-mouthed at the full-blown celebration underway. Gone were the desiccated bodies, replaced now with men and women dancing, eating, and drinking. Some were dressed as for a masquerade ball I would find in
Orea, the silk embroidery of their formal attire and animal masks illuminated by torchlight. The rest of the people looked to be from a different culture, the women in twined-leaf skirts and short sleeved blouses of bright, flower-patterned cloth, the men walking shirtless, displaying dark, coppery skin covered in intricate black patterns.

Against the far wall, the king—probably King
Henare—sat on a throne of carved stone. A wide sash of woven grass crossed his chest, disappearing under a feathered cape. On his head, bright yellow flowers formed a crest like a rooster’s comb. He held a long wooden staff propped upright, reaching almost as high as his crested floral crown.

Were these the
Myleans? My ancestors? I searched their faces, hoping to feel some connection to this fallen people. In Orea, my blood made me different and I didn’t want to be on the outside anymore. I wanted to belong. A woman near me in leaf skirts laughed and looked toward the door. Her eyes were violet. Like mine. I searched the room, my heart expanding. All the Mylean people had violet eyes. I smiled. Some part of them still existed in me.

A group of
Mylean women danced to the music, their hips following the frantic rhythm of the drums while their hands flowed with the rise and fall of the bamboo flutes. One Mylean looked startlingly familiar, but before I could place him, the vision changed.

A line of
Orean servants trooped into the room, their faces also covered for the masquerade ball in a ceremonial mask with a long, thin, hooked noses. They handed each Orean a bottle of wine. One of the Orean nobles proposed a special toast to the new treaty.

In one choreographed move, the
Oreans, opened the bottles with a flourish, wine foam spraying forth. But instead of pouring the wine, the Oreans ran through the room, the frothing bottles clutched like torches in their hands. The Myleans clapped at their showmanship, but what started as cheers turned to guttural screams.

As the green foam spewed from bottles,
it rose like mist, spreading like an emerald fog. Any who inhaled the tainted air collapsed, coughing until their life was snuffed out. The Oreans, breathing through their masks, were the only survivors.

“Poison,” I whispered.

Even after the vision ended, the screams of the dying still rang in my ears and I shook my head.

The once happy and vibrant people were now a mass of skeletons, desiccated by the ravages of time. Some still had cups between their bony fingers; others were clutched in immortal embraces on the dusty floor. The king still sat on his throne, his head lolling to the side. Moss sprouted from his empty eye sockets—the same green moss that covered the walls.

With a flicker of light, the barrier over the door dissipated, setting the brothers free.

“Stand back, Sheridan,” William commanded. “The captain and I have both been exposed.”

I slid back a few feet and stared at the moss-covered walls, suddenly thankful that I had been outside the barrier. “Surely it’s not still poisonous after a thousand years.”

“Under ordinary circumstances,” William said slowly, “I would agree with you, but this place is filled with deep magic.” William and his brother made their way to the pool of water and kneeled beside it, scooping up handfuls to wash their faces.

I gulped. “Do you think that in the moment the room sprang to life the poison became active again?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” William said. I took a few more steps back and sat on one of the polished benches against the wall. “What I do know about this poison is that it’s the first inhalation of it that does the trick. We may already be doomed,” he said, gesturing toward the chamber. “The walls were alive with green mossy stuff still clinging to them. It’s a lethal plant compound that grows back in the
Manacle.”

“Nothing on this island is how I imagined it. Booby traps, poison, murder,” I said, my eyes returning to the room where the murdered skeletons of my ancestors lay. “The histories say the
Myleans died of a plague, not from beheading and poison.”

The captain glanced at me. “History is written by the victors, Sheridan.”

“I can’t believe the Oreans did that.” I shook my head. “Why? For what purpose?”

William l
ay on his back and placed a damp handkerchief across his forehead. “The Oreans were searching for someone with enough magic to cure their soil. When they arrived, their Hounds discovered that Dawn was the strongest of her people. They tried to arrange a marriage between Dawn and the Orean prince. Her people rejected the offer, so they kidnapped her.”

My mind spun, trying to make sense of all the new informat
ion. It was not the version I’d been taught. “They wouldn’t have had to kidnap her. The Myleans were poor and needed the riches the kingdom could offer for—”

“The
Mylean people were in no way poor,” the captain cut in. He too was lying near the pool, not looking any better than his brother. “Look at this place. You’ve seen the jewels and carvings that fill this palace. And you’ve seen what really happened here.”

In that magical room, I’d witnessed a grotesque genocide, one I couldn’t deny. I stared silently at him, unable to reconcile what my eyes saw and what I had always been told. It was incomprehensible.

William spoke again. “The Myleans were powerful magicians and offered their services of magic to many kingdoms, always at a fair price. After the rejected marriage proposal of Princess Dawn, the Oreans came, pretending to seek a similar arrangement. They planned this elaborate feast to distract them from their plot to steal the princess. The princess’s bodyguard, a powerful warlock, uncovered the plot and warned the king. Afraid to start a war with the Oreans, the king ordered the warlock to bind the princess’s magic, so they wouldn’t want to take her. But the bodyguard was interrupted while in the act of binding her magic, unable to finish the spell. Most of her magic was bound, locked away from her use, but not all of it.”

“I don’t understand.” I crossed my arms. “If the
Myleans were so powerful, why didn’t they fight back once they knew about the threat to Dawn?”

“They were a peaceful people, and had no real military.” William’s breathing seemed labored, a rose color blooming across his forehead. “For generations they were respected and revered by the other kingdoms that they aided. They thought they were too important to be in any danger.”

Clay wiped the sweat off his forehead. “But back to Princess Dawn. She was kidnapped, probably during the very feast we just witnessed. The warlock who bound her was injured defending her against her kidnappers, but he survived and went after her. Because he was not at the feast when they opened the poison, he was spared the fate of the king and people.”

“I’d always been taught . . .” My hands were shaking and I pressed my fingers over my mouth.

“Did that look like a plague to you?” the captain demanded, gesturing to the room again. “Did the skeletons in the village look like they died of a plague? You’ve seen it with your own eyes.”

The foundation of my beliefs were cracking and I didn’t know how to stop it, or if I should. “Why would the
Oreans do that?”

“Because they’re evil,” the captain replied.

“I don’t believe that. There must be more to the story. Dawn wouldn’t have married into the family that destroyed her people.”

William turned and looked at me with sad eyes. “She didn’t know at first. They took her and told her if she married their prince and gave him an heir, they would spare her island. For years she acquiesced to the kingdom’s demands, thinking she was protecting her people. She didn’t know that they were already dead. Once she discovered the truth, she summoned what remained of her magical strength and put the barrier around the island, and then bound up her remaining magic.”

I twisted a strand of my hair around my finger. “Why murder the whole race if they already had Princess Dawn?”

“Greed,” William said quietly. “They did it so they could keep her power for themselves. The other nations affected by the warlock’s curse would have to come to them to get the blood they needed to survive. And to make sure her people never stole her back. They built the barrier for the same reason: to keep her magical blood for themselves.”

William began coughing and I stood to go check on him. “Stay there,” he said, holding up his hand. “I’ll be all right. When Dawn refused to help them, they tortured her. In the process, they discovered that her blood nourished the soil, exactly what they wanted. Being without her magic left her unable to defend herself, but able to bleed for them. They liked it that way. And the binding spell she had put on the medallion was especially attuned to her descendants. That’s why it was passed down from Emmía to Emmía, to keep their magic bound.”

Dawn’s medallion?
My medallion? Some kind of magical muzzle? “That can’t be right. The whole kingdom wears medallions. It protects them.”

“The medallions were introduced to the
Orean culture at the birth of the second Emmía, so she would never want to remove her necklace.”

I shook my head. “What happened here was horrible. But it was centuries ago during a time of desperation of the Kingdom. The royal family can’t be blamed for the actions of their ancestors.”

“They still lock the Emmía behind the barrier.”

“She isn’t a prisoner. She’s there for her safety.”

The captain snorted. “For the safety of their pocketbooks.”

“I know it’s hard to accept,” William said, “but it’s all true. Outside the kingdom there are history books and other sources of—” He cut off in a fit of coughs.

“Other sources of what?” I asked when the coughing subsided, but he didn’t respond. “William? Captain?” I shouted, but got no response.