Alphas of Black Fortune Complete Series (12 page)

Kelly got his arms around Cressida as she cried and bundled her close to his chest. He needed both to comfort her and to hold on to something. It took them a long moment to turn away from the cliff’s edge, to face the huge shadow of the jungle once more after losing Esterbrook. He’d thought his rage for the loss of Harry was full and complete, but now he felt it blanket over him anew, fresh and hot and awful.

His fool’s errand had taken two of his crew’s lives already. What madness and evil had he condemned them all to face?

He stood there waiting for them to rebel. Cort would have had every right to kill him and take over as captain. Even Fat Tom, who’d never had much interest in leadership, could have made the move then and Kelly doubted anyone would have opposed it once they heard the story. Harry dead. Esterbrook dead.

But neither Cort nor Fat Tom said anything. And eventually it was Cressida who pulled free of his arms, wiped her face on her sleeve and just took his hand, pulling him towards the jungle.

“We should keep moving,” she said quietly.

He glanced at Cort and Fat Tom, both of whom had started trudging after them, their heads bowed. Fat Tom eventually just spilled forward and shifted into his bear skin, where no doubt it was easier to grieve. Let the beast take over for a while, while the man curled up on himself and wept. Kelly was almost jealous. He considered letting the bear drive for a while himself, but he had to keep his wits about him. It wouldn’t have been fair.

From here it was north, to the river. They seemed also to be moving further up the mountain, and the trek was slow going as the jungle around them rearranged itself on an incline. They were all exhausted again in short order, but he wouldn’t let them stop. The river itself would be welcomed fresh water, where they could sit and cool off and perhaps spend the night. But Kelly thought that if they stopped now, or anytime before they got to the river, they might never get up again. No matter how determined Cressida now seemed to be.

He wondered if she would have agreed to go back had he suggested it. But going back now felt like they were giving up on Harry and Esterbrook as well. It felt like they were giving in and like those two brave men would have died for nothing. Kelly kept going because he could not give up, could not bear the shame of it, of so disregarding their memories. Their deaths would never be justified, but at least he could say they had died for something if he managed to get his hands on the treasure and used it to give their people a home.

What had perhaps been a fool’s errand was now the only recourse he had, he realized. And he hated himself for his blindness. And he wondered if he was brave enough and clever enough to make it to the top of the mountain at all.

Reza had gone to Kamala’s home to clean himself up after fleeing the pond. He’d just finished getting dressed, and tying his hair back from his face, when he heard her come stomping into the hut and right into the little spare room he’d slept in the night before. He turned to look at her, surprised to see the anger on her face.

“Kamala?” he asked. “What is it?”

She smacked him hard in the arm. “You stupid idiot!” she cried. “Why did you rebuff Prija? Don’t you want to be a part of this tribe anymore?”

Reza winced, rubbing at his arm. “Kamala, stop it. I didn’t rebuff her. I was being
honest
with her. Do you want your friend locked into a loveless marriage for the rest of her life?”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard!” Kamala yelled. “Why would you never love her? She’s beautiful and smart and wonderful! She’s the only one who’s kept me happy in
my
marriage, Reza.”

Reza winced again. She might as well have smacked him again, too, with those words. He had been careful not to ask about her union with Chaiya, but of course he’d suspected that it had been forced at least in part.

“I’m sorry, salamander,” he murmured.

“I just got you back, Reza!” Kamala sputtered, and then she lurched forward and hugged him tightly. “I can’t bear to lose you again!”

Reza’s arms came swiftly, automatically around her and he bundled her close and warm against his chest. Then he frowned, confused.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You won’t lose me. I’ll make Sajja understand why I cannot marry Prija.”

“It’s too late for that,” Kamala whimpered. “He gave Chaiya permission to fight you to the death, Reza. If you don’t marry Prija, you must fight.”

All the breath went out of Reza. Of all the things he’d thought he might have to do to gain Sajja’s permission to rejoin the tribe without wedding Prija, the blood fight had not ever entered his mind. It was an old, archaic ritual, from a time before his people could even speak in their man skins. When the only way to solve a slight or an argument had been with death. The blood fight had gone out of style two generations ago, dismissed as barbaric and stupid by Reza’s own grandfather.

“He can’t be serious,” he said, looking down at his sister.

She sniffed and looked back at him with watery eyes. “Chaiya has already won four of them in the last year, Reza. How do you think he got his wreath?”

Reza hissed. “With bloodshed, not bravery or honor. That’s disgusting, Kamala.”

“But it is
allowed
now,” she said, shaking him a little. “And he’s going to kill you! You have to run. To leave.”

“No…” Reza said, bristling. “I’m not running away, not from them. This is my home,
you
are my family. I won’t leave.”

Which felt so odd to his ears, now, even as he had just decided that Cressida was the woman he wanted to be with. These two pieces of himself were at war in his heart: the man who wanted Cressida and the man who wanted to rejoin his tribe. He gritted his teeth, frustrated and confused.

“Reza, I couldn’t stand it if he killed you,” Kamala said fiercely. “I would—I would poison him and throw myself off the Stone Leap.”

He squeezed her gently and shook his head. “No, none of that. I’ll talk to Sajja and try to find some accord first, before we go around poisoning people. All right?”

Kamala looked worried and doubtful, but she nodded. “You should leave this hut. Chaiya will make the demand as soon as he sees you.”

Reza pressed a kiss to his sister’s brow. “I love you.”

“You too,” she whispered.

He ducked out of the hut via the rear door and slinked into the jungle to go prowling around the village’s perimeter, looking for the best way to corner the chieftain without being seen.

The river was so welcomed a sight that Cressida nearly tore off all her clothes right there and jumped in. She started towards it, but Fat Tom grabbed her gently with his giant bear teeth on the back of her leg and tugged her back. She jumped, turning about to look down at him.

“Tom, stop!” She wiggled her leg. “Let go!”

“He doesn’t trust the water,” Cort said grimly, stepping closer to the riverbank. “He doesn’t trust anything on the island.”

“Tom,” Kelly chided, as he arrived beside him.

The big grizzly bear reluctantly let go of Cressida’s leg. She shook it out, but he had been careful enough with his teeth that there weren’t even marks on her trouser leg. She turned toward Cort and the bank.

“Reza said this river is their people’s source of fresh water,” she argued. “It can’t be
poisoned
or anything. They’d all be dead.”

“Unless it’s a poison natural to the island,” Cort muttered, shrugging. “Maybe something they’re immune to.”

Cressida stared at the water as it bustled over stones and rocks. It was so clear and clean looking that she could see to the riverbed, silt and crabs and small fish darting here and there. She was as thirsty as she’d ever been and had sweat through all her clothes. She wanted to dunk her head in the river, desperately.

“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” she determined, looking around at them. Fat Tom whined a little but with no further ado, she pushed past Cort and Kelly and sank into a crouch on the riverbank, reaching down to scoop some water up and lift it to her lips.

It was cool, and crisp, and exactly what she’d been hoping for. She drank what was cupped in her palm and then shook out her hand, turning to smile at the lads.

“It’s safe,” she told them. “And delicious.”

The pirates waited a moment, just to see if she end up a twitching, foaming mess and die, she figured, before they all came dashing to the riverbank as well. Fat Tom went plowing right into the water, splashing about in his bear skin. Cort pulled off his shirt and his boots, a little more modest about it all, and waded in as far as his knees. Cressida sat down on the bank and tugged off her boots, rolled up her trousers and dipped her feet, watching with no small amount of appreciation as Kelly peeled his sweat-soaked shirt up and over his head, revealing a broad expanse of rippling muscle and glistening skin.

As though he knew what she was thinking, he glanced at her and shot her a dirty little grin. It was such a relief to see him grin again, after everything, and she felt her heart throb a little in her chest. Their lives were such that just the splash of cool, clean water could be enough to renew their strength and courage and determination. While Cort and Fat Tom roamed about the riverbank, getting cool and washing, Kelly settled on the grass beside Cressida, and she didn’t resist him this time when he slid an arm about her and pulled her close. In fact, the musk and warmth of him was suddenly reassuring.

Fat Tom caught fish for them to eat, and Cort built a fire to roast them on. As they sat around the fire eating, sharing the last of the wine flagon, Cressida felt some bit of peace for the first time in a long time. She knew that it wouldn’t last, and that it could not possibly be
real
peace, but she did feel safe, tucked against Kelly, and full. She couldn’t help but wonder, as she looked up at the jungle canopy, missing the sight of the stars overhead, if Reza had found a similar sliver of peace at home with his people.

Secretly, shamefully, she hoped not.

Even with Kelly’s arm around her, she hoped Reza was still thinking of her. She wanted him to be happy, but she also just wanted
him
, and she could not make her heart let go of him. Perhaps eventually, but that was an eventually she could not conceive of now. The jungle around them hid the sky from view, and it was impossible to tell the time of day, or even if it still
was
day, most of the time. She wouldn’t even know the hour of his marriage, the moment he was gone from her forever.

Because they were all exhausted, they bedded down there on the riverbank to sleep for a time, taking shifts in turn to guard each other against whatever wilderness might come next to kill them. Though Cressida started off at least a foot away from him, eventually Kelly moved close enough to her that he just wrapped his arms around her and tucked her close against himself. She expected some attempt at debauch, but his hands didn’t stray, and he ducked his face to her hair and simply held her. And she thought, for the first time since she’d known him and certainly for the first time since they’d left New Providence on this reckless adventure, that perhaps he
did
love her. Or at least he was trying to. It was in the way he held her, the way his body curled against hers, and the steady beat of his heart at her back. But what would that mean for her?

She lay there trying to sleep and failing for what felt like hours. Long enough that Cort returned and took his turn sleeping, and Fat Tom shuffled off to guard the perimeter. Long enough that she thought she could see some shadow of sunlight turning beneath the canopy towards actual evening, but in truth that was impossible to tell. She was exhausted; she
wanted
to sleep. But her mind and heart were too busy battling, and wouldn’t let her. So eventually she gave up, once Cort was asleep, and untangled herself from Kelly, sitting up.

His hand landed on her hip. “Where are you going?” he asked tiredly.

“I can’t sleep. I’ll help Tom keep guard,” she said, turning to peer down at him. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Go back to sleep.”

He seemed to accept it, and just yawned and turned his face in to the sack he was using as a pillow. Cressida got to her feet and fit her sword belt into place before she headed for the jungle tree line, following the wide path that Fat Tom had made through the grass as he lumbered along. She tried to let her mind empty and focus only on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping the banked but flickering orange-gold light from their little fire always on her right, just in the corner of her eye.

But it was easy to let herself drift a little, with the hum and buzz of the jungle filling her ears, the heat of the place thick around her save for the occasional bustle of a rogue breeze through the dense foliage. There were things that creeped and crawled upon the ground and perched in the trees that she had no name for, some terrifying and some strange and some fascinating. She wondered if the Wailing Mother had been some ancient predator long forgotten in the rest of the world, and how many of these creatures only existed on this one island. A sound place, she reasoned, to hide any treasure of worth, for sure.

A rustle cut through the gentle rise and fall of the jungle sounds, and Cressida turned towards it. Just a patch of darkness, mottled by other darkness. She turned back, and a breath caught in her throat as she realized her error. The faint glow of their fire was no longer visible. She turned in a full circle, unable to relocate it. She strained herself listening for the heavy fall of bear footsteps and couldn’t hear them, couldn’t hear anything except for the damnably loud buzz of insects.

All around her, shadows twisted and leaned, and she felt the cold dread of being lost in this verdant maze forever creep through her bones. Perhaps this was how they lost her. Harry to the Wailing Mother and Esterbrook to the Stone Leap and Cressida Avery to the heart of the jungle itself. But she was not the sort of woman to lie down and accept such a fate. She never had been. From the moment it became clear to her, as a young girl, that everyone around her intended to arrange and dictate and rule her life,
instead
of her, she’d refused to accept it. Some people called it running, but Cressida had always thought of it instead as
living
, a most basic right, a most human impulse. To fight for freedom when one found that it had been taken away, or never been given to begin with. Windows and letters and novels and needlepoint—these were the shackles of the modern woman, but not Cressida’s.

She drew her rapier and turned in the direction the rustle had come from, determination renewed, and stepped forward, slashing at a spill of vines blocking the way. To hell with Reza’s rules. To hell with all rules. If the jungle wouldn’t fight fair, then neither would she.
Pirates
, after all, had no taste for rules. Pirates had no inclination for fairness. And Cressida Avery had subscribed to that way of life because she didn’t either. She slashed again, knocking away more of the underbrush crowding her legs. It fell away and revealed a path deeper into the jungle’s coiling shade. She followed it, swiping back vines and fronds and branches that reached too close for her comfort. Eventually it felt like they were curling back of their own accord before she passed, and by now she was too paranoid to ignore the idea.

The path seemed to wind in circles, but Cressida perceived in short order that it was winding in circles
upwards
. Which meant, she figured, that she was moving away from the river and not towards it, but it seemed foolish to turn back and try to make her way when the path itself seemed to be coaxing her forward on her own. She knew, too, that it could just be another way to separate her from the others and deliver her an untimely end, but she would rather die facing an opponent, even an animated leafy green one, than with her back to it, fleeing. Whatever wickedness awaited her, it would taste the bite of her rapier before she was felled.

The path opened up eventually into a wide clearing, and Cressida realized that her boots were striking stone, not earth. The clearing was plainly manmade, formed in the round, and at its far end there was a stone edifice protruding forth from the mountain itself. Several paths led into the clearing from various breaks in the jungle, all overgrown, save the one Cressida herself had taken. The stone structure, Cressida realized as she crept further into the clearing, took the shape of a roaring beast’s mouth, stone teeth pointed, that was plainly a cavern. She couldn’t identify what kind of animal it was meant to be. And between her and the cavern there was a small, shallow pool of water. Despite the general disarray of the clearing, the water itself was clean and clear, and Cressida thought someone must have cared for it, skimming it, and that perhaps rainfall filled it, since there was no spout or canal feeding into it.

She bent down, examining the water, and reached to brush the surface with a few fingertips. At once, a burst of light erupted from the bottom of the pool. Startled, she fell back, landing hard on her backside, and scuttled even further away as the light bloomed from within the pool, spiraling upward, like a vine lifting and flowering.

From the cavern, she heard a voice echoing. “Sssso. You’ve come to claim the treasssure, human.”

Cressida watched with no small amount of bewilderment as the shadows at the mouth of the cave coalesced and came forward, revealed by the light emanating from the little pool to be a small, slender woman. She wore a long robe of green, patched with leaves and vines and the petals of various dead flowers. Her hair was dark, braided in rows back from a dark face, her skin smooth and glistening, a strange mixture of brown and olive. She walked toward Cressida and came to a stop on the other side of the pool, deep black eyes gazing steadily at her.

Cressida recovered herself a bit and sat up, pushing herself up to her feet with a nod.

“Ah, yes,” she said uneasily. “I’ve come for the Jewel of So Sur…ah, madam.”

The woman smiled, revealing bright white teeth. “I am the Keeper of the Jewel.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Cressida told her simply. “I just want the jewel. I’m going to use it to buy my freedom.”

The Keeper arched an eyebrow. “You think the jewel is simply a bauble?”

“Well…” Cressida blushed. “I suppose so. I was told there might be some magic to the whole thing, but I’m…not exactly educated in such things.”

“The Jewel of So Sur will grant you freedom,” the Keeper said, nodding. “If you are worthy of it.”

The woman’s accent was strange, unlike any Cressida had ever heard before. She put special emphasis on her esses, though they weren’t quite as pronounced as they had been when she had first departed the cavern.

“I think I’m worthy,” Cressida said.

“We shall see,” the Keeper replied. She indicated the pool. “Please enter.”

Cressida hesitated. “The…water? Why?”

The Keeper tilted her head, and Cressida got the impression this was a sign of impatience. She explained, “The waters come from the island itself, are a hot spring born of her. The island has guarded the Jewel for centuries. The island will decide if you are worthy or not.”

Cressida took a step toward the pool and then stopped. “And what if I’m not?”

The Keeper smiled again, but this time it was less like a smile and more like a baring of fangs. “You have risked your life to get this far. Are you so concerned with it now?”

Cressida swallowed against a knot in her throat, but she supposed the woman was right. She desperately wished that Kelly was here with her, though. Or Reza. She wished they were
both
with her now. That had always been the plan. But if this was the final test, or at least
one
of the final tests, then she had to try. It wouldn’t do her any good to turn around and go traipsing back through the jungle empty-handed. Perhaps even if she failed, Kelly still stood a chance.