On the Isle of Sound and Wonder (29 page)

Ferran waited a few more moments then opened his eyes again. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and as his world came into focus, he found himself in a small cavern, with several large stalagmites protruding from the ground. Although his feet and hands felt completely bound, he could see no rope or ties of any kind.

What prison is this?
Ferran craned his head carefully to look at what the stranger had left behind and saw that it was a man, lying in a crumpled heap with his back facing Ferran.

“Hello?” he whispered. “Who’s there?”

The man on the floor lay motionless and did not reply. Ferran felt his heart pounding.
Captive in a cave with a possible dead body,
he thought worriedly.
This does not look good.

The footsteps approached again, and Ferran quickly shut his eyes and shifted back to his original position, hoping he would continue to go unnoticed. The stranger came along again, dragging more cargo.

Another body?
thought Ferran.
Who are these men? Castaways from the
Albatross
 . . . or something else?

He risked peeking one eye open as the stranger dumped the second body near the first, and Ferran caught his breath audibly. The stranger heard his small gasp and turned to peer into the dark warily. Just before he could shut his eyes again, Ferran saw its face, and froze.

It was a monster.

It was a man, more or less, though unlike any man Ferran had ever seen. Tall and wide, it was covered in dark skin mixed with pebbly rough patches, like a fish’s scales, that gleamed in the dim light. It wore a rough hempen cloth wound about its waist and legs like makeshift short trousers, and there were six long fingers on each hand and six toes on each huge foot. Its eyes were unevenly placed and Ferran was surprised to note they were sky blue, startlingly pale against the creature’s unusual, patchy body.

The creature looked hesitantly about the cave, not noticing Ferran’s stare then, seemingly dismissing the sound, turned back to the bodies on the floor, moving them closer together as a sailor arranges barrels of cargo in the hold. Finally, it gave a sad sort of shake of its lopsided head and slouched out of the cavern again, its huge feet stomping down the passageway, out of sight.

Ferran tried to keep his breath quiet, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.
The monster that hurt Mira,
he thought.
That means I’m in her father’s caves. I could be hundreds of feet underground.

In a flash, Ferran recalled Dante’s arrival in the clearing by the treehouse and the subsequent attack when Mira tried to stop her father from taking him away. He shivered.

He’s going to kill me,
thought Ferran.
Unless Mira finds me, or I escape.

One of the bodies on the ground groaned softly, startling Ferran.

“Hello! Psst! Are you all right?” Ferran whispered frantically. There was no telling how long they’d be lying here in the cold and the dark, how long before Dante came to fetch them.
If they’re not too injured, perhaps we can help each other out of this mess.

There was another groan, worried and pained, and one of the bodies rolled over a little.

Ferran’s heart leapt.
It can
’
t be!
he thought as the man’s face came into view. “Truffo?” he whispered, voice cracking.

The bruised, rumple-haired young man opened his eyes. It most certainly was Truffo Arlecin, but he looked so different now: tired, hunted, and almost empty. Ferran was reminded of his childhood hound, and the look it had given him the day before it had given up on living and died of old age.

“Truffo,” Ferran whispered again. “You’re alive! I am so glad to see you!”

 “Prince?” muttered the fool, his eyes fluttering closed again.

“Yes, it’s me, Prince Ferran. Wake up! We have to get out of here!”

“Can’t escape . . . there are monsters . . .” Truffo’s head lolled with exhaustion.

“Truffo!” Ferran was desperate. “Please! Stay awake!”

It was no use. Whatever had happened to him had worn him completely out. Thinking on Dante’s soulless stare and the creature that had brought the bodies in, Ferran could hardly disbelieve Truffo when he claimed there were monsters about. Exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he drifted into a kind of dreamless sleep, waking some time later to the faint smell of something burning and the tinkling of a distant, unseen wind chime.

Somewhere deep in the caves, a man screamed in pain, and Ferran felt the last of his courage vanish completely. With great effort, he rolled over onto his side and saw that Truffo and the other body had disappeared. He was alone.

I have to get out of here.
Ferran looked toward the passageway where he’d seen the monster enter. There was another scream, and, without another moment of hesitation, Ferran began to wriggle desperately toward the uneven passage in the rock ahead of him, praying that it was not far to the cave’s exit, and that he could make it outside before he was caught.

* * *

“I said, stay back, ghost!”

Mira adjusted her grip on the staff, feeling it buzz in her palms. Although there was no sharp head on this staff’s point, something about having the staff in hand was comforting in the face of this unexpected development.

“Please, do not be alarmed,” the sheer-skinned man pleaded, still kneeling. His eyes were full of starlight and endless night skies, and his voice shook with something possibly like joy. “I’m no ghost. I mean no harm to you, Mira. I owe you my life.”

“You . . . what?”

“I beg of you, please remember me.” He looked pained. “Think hard, think back to your early days. Remember when you came to the isle, when you were but small. Do you remember your very first friend?”

Mira hesitated, furrowing her brow in deep concentration. “I remember my father and the monster, and . . .” The glimmering creature before her looked hopeful. “And there was someone else . . .” Mira felt her heart leap in confusion.

“I am an airy spirit, born of the sky and wind and clouds,” the spectre said, spreading his arms wide. “My name is Aurael. I was bound here, imprisoned in a tree, until you and your father arrived and freed me. You found me first, and you were such a little thing, so bright and trusting!” He smiled, and Mira felt something brush up against her memories, familiarity dropping like a pebble to disrupt the surface of a pond.

“I . . . don’t remember everything, but I think I remember you,” she said slowly. She could not quite place the exact memories, but it felt true. “What happened when we freed you?”

Aurael sat back on his heels with a happy sigh. “We were inseparable! We spent all of our time together, and as you grew and explored the island, I kept you safe from harm. Do you remember the games we used to play? I sometimes was a bear to walk with you, sometimes a dolphin to swim with you. I was always at your side, Mira.”

Mira lowered the staff so that it rested upright on the ground, and she leaned on it a little. “I don’t remember,” she said again, although there were echoes of truth to his words that made the lights on the staff’s runes glimmer and spark as the shadows around them grew darker.
It will be night soon, and Ferran is in trouble.

“Try. Think back.” Aurael’s sheer, pale blue form did not fade or darken, but he seemed to glow from within himself, pale against the twilight of the forest. “I was with you all along.” His expression was full of—what? Adoration? Mira felt her skin prickle.

“You were?”

“Yes,” breathed Aurael, smiling. “I was your constant companion.”

“Where did you go?”

“Why, anywhere you wished me to!”

“No.” Mira’s jaw tightened. “Where did you go when you left me alone.” She watched his silvery blue smile fade slowly into a kind of neutral puzzlement. “You say I set you free from that tree. You say you watched over me, cared for me, kept me safe from harm. So, where did you go? Why did you let Karaburan do that to me?”

Aurael’s expression was childlike with guilt at first, and then the same pleading look took over again. “Mira, you don’t understand,” he began in a careful, soothing voice. He raised a hand, palm toward her in supplication. The gesture made her chest constrict sharply. Her father had done the same thing that night when Karaburan assaulted her. Her grip tightened and she narrowed her eyes on Aurael.

“Then explain it to me! Why did you let that happen?”

Aurael’s brightness flared and his soft handsome features went sharp and angular as a thornbush for a brief moment before smoothing again. “My will is not always my own, sweet girl,” he growled defensively. “Your father’s price for freeing me from that tree was to take me as his long-indentured slave, until I had earned my freedom. What was meant originally to be a few small tasks became a mountain of work, and has stretched across the years like weaving upon a loom, ever in progress, never complete.”

Mira gripped the staff tighter and stared him down. “That doesn’t answer my question. Unless you mean to tell me my father ordered you to stand by and watch Karaburan violate me—”

“Your father did no such thing,” Aurael’s voice was rigid. “But that monster’s foolishness caused me to be banished from your side. Your father decreed that you would not remember me again, and he made a spell to keep your mind from thoughts of me, your once-beloved playmate and humble servant. He banished the monster, too, in another way; he bade the creature forget his ambitions and cursed him so that wherever you would roam on the isle, he could not follow, nor even coexist in the same region.”

Mira looked closely at him.
Another curse? So many curses. But that would explain much of my avoidance of the creature.
“This you swear?” she prompted him fiercely.

Aurael nodded. “Yes, I swear it.”

The staff flared warmth, then sudden cold, against Mira’s hand, and she glanced at it quizzically.
A lie?
she wondered. “My father forbade you to interfere with Karaburan’s attempt on me?” she asked, her voice even.

“Yes, and his punishment was to banish me from your company. There were lessons he wanted to teach, both to you and that slack-jawed demon.”

The staff cooled drastically in her palm, and Mira squeezed it, steeling herself for the next question. “And why would you aid me now, when his will was made so clear?”

Aurael shook his head. “You command the staff, and so you command me.  And because I still owe you my life, even if it was your father who freed me from that tree and made me his own slave.”

Mira narrowed her eyes at the spirit. The staff was lukewarm.
A partial truth,
she decided. “Tell me the truth,” she said, keeping her voice level. “I am tired of questions. My father wants some kind of revenge, and Ferran’s life may be at stake. Tell me the truth about what’s going on.” The runes on the staff shimmered, and Mira saw Aurael’s expression grow humble and almost glossy.

“I love you,” Aurael answered immediately. “You are the brightest star I have ever seen in any sky in the hundreds of years I’ve been alive. I want to make you happy, to give you whatever your heart desires . . . but I can do so little when I am still bound to your father’s will. As long as he lives, I am his. Unless he releases me.”

The staff blazed warm. Mira took another step back, her jaw tightening.
That was all true.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel about this confession, given so plainly from such a strange and unexpected person. She took a moment to breathe. “Then you’ll help me now, and I’ll see that you’re set free.”

Aurael’s face shifted like the sudden clearing of clouds after the rain. “You would free me?” The hunger and awe in his voice were palpable.

Mira nodded. “I need your help. I have to stop whatever it is my father has set in place, before any more damage is done.”

Aurael fidgeted. “Command me, and I will obey,” he promised.

“Tell me what my father intends.”

“He wrecked that ship to murder his enemies, but something made the storm abate, and his mind was changed. Dante had intended for all aboard the ship to die, but when he changed his mind, a few were saved: some servants, the elder prince, the younger prince, the duke, and the king.”

Mira’s mind flew back to Gonzo’s description of their history.
The king is Ferran’s father, the duke is my uncle . . . This was all my father’s plan.
“Go on.”

“He bade me torture them, separate them, dangle their survival just out of reach as bait on a hook. Then, when they were right upon the verge of madness, I was to bring them home to him, to the caves, for some ritual or other, I know not what exactly.” Aurael shrugged. “Presumably, he’s going to kill them all.”

“You will stop him.” Mira set her jaw firmly.

Aurael looked surprised at her blunt order, and he bowed, his form melting as suddenly as though a strong wind had blown him away. Mira remained, holding the staff tightly in her right hand.

“And if you don’t, I’ll have to stop him myself,” she told herself softly, unsure whether Aurael had actually gone to obey her or to rat her out to her father.

A faint crack and rustle of leaves sounded behind her, and Mira turned, again brandishing the staff like a spear.

The tiger stood on the edge of the clearing, gazing at her with those stunning pale blue eyes.

Mira held her breath then let it out slowly.
Not once in all this time, and now twice in a day,
she thought.
What could have prompted this?

The tiger moved slowly toward her, crossing the clearing with long, liquid strides, and stopped several feet away, just out of reach of the staff. The enormous cat then sat down as neatly as a housecat and curled her tail around her feet. Mira blinked, confused, but the tiger looked at the staff with interest.

“Some magic this is,” Mira observed, warily, and the tiger looked up at the sound of her voice, and nodded at her.

Mira’s eyes widened. “Speaking the language of beasts is not one of my skills,” she murmured. “What, then? The staff? The staff’s power now lets me speak to you?”