Drake

Drake tried not to expect anything from this trip through the terrifying black portal conjured up by a crazy woman high on Sorceress blood, but in hindsight, he had a few unrealistic expectations. First of all, he had not expected to feel like every piece of him had been ripped apart and hastily slammed back together. Secondly, he had expected to land on solid ground. He had not realized he had these expectations because they did not seem unreasonable. However, after he was shattered like glass and jammed back together, he found himself hurtling toward the ocean.

He flailed for the nearest solid object in reach—a glass balcony. A glass balcony coated with water. He only slowed his descent long enough for him to fully process just how far he was about to fall and just how painful a death being shattered on the rocks below would be.

His fall and his contemplation of his own mortality stopped abruptly as his hand caught on something. Someone. That someone yelped Drake’s name in surprise as Drake slammed against the wall of the balcony—a blinding explosion of pain in his stretched arm and the side of his ribcage taking the brunt of the impact. His rescuer almost went over the edge with the force of the sudden stop. “Matias, help!” yelled the person who sounded a lot like Cliff.

“Really? Why?” came the unhappy answer, but the person who Drake hoped was a different Matias grabbed Drake’s other arm, and the two hauled him over the balcony wall.

From his slippery glass perch, Drake took in the scene: the Bayselle castle balcony, dark clouds, rainstorm, Cliff, a handful of pirates, onlookers beginning to spill onto the balcony, and the exact Matias he was hoping not to see. What was Matias doing here?

As he looked back at the faces, nobody was interested in him. The odd crowd standing in the rain stared in horrified awe at the tear in the sky behind him, just off the balcony. Two shapes oozed through the jagged darkness of the tear, their bodies distorted and stretched unnaturally. No wonder that method of travel hurt so much. He could not think fast enough to help Issabeth or warn her. The dark-haired crazy woman had probably dropped them in the middle of the ocean on purpose.

“We should get out of here,” hissed Matias, jerking his head toward some gape-mouthed pirates.

“He’s right,” Cliff agreed, a monkey peeking around his neck to ogle Drake.

Flabbergasted, Drake let Cliff pull him up and through the crowd of soggy spectators who surged forward to fill the space they left behind.

“We need to get down to the water,” Drake said as they pushed through the crowded doorway into the ballroom. “We need to help her.”

“Who?” asked Cliff, not really paying attention. “We need to get to Rosaliy while everyone is distracted.”

Well, that changed things. Somehow, it did not seem like a mental stretch that Rosaliy was here somewhere, although he wouldn’t fully believe until he saw her. They battled their way to the staircase.

“Where is Rosaliy?” Drake asked.

“Hopefully headed to the sealed section of the palace right now,” answered Matias. “I know the fastest way there.” Really, what was Matias doing here?

The sealed section was sealed because it was falling into the ocean. Drake was curious why Rosaliy was heading to the most dangerous part of the castle, but mostly he was relieved to be headed toward an open vantage point. Anything could be happening outside right now. The pirate-occupied castle was generally well-guarded, but even the most dedicated guards had headed for a window when a massive explosion outside jangled the chandeliers. He would have told Matias to hurry, but he avoided the urge. Matias was the type to slow down out of spite.

“What happened out there?” Cliff asked, half out of breath from a series of stairs and hallways.

That was exactly what Drake wanted to know. “A massive fight between good and evil?” Drake guessed.

“No, I meant with you,” said Cliff. “Dropping out of the sky. You look like you’ve been chewed up and spit out.”

Basically. “The perils of being caught in a massive fight between good and evil,” Drake said. “Just the story of my life, Cliff—being in the wrong place at the wrong time, this time on an epic scale. Is that Senira Luza’s monkey?”

“Yeah,” Cliff sighed. Quita was hunkered down on his back like a tiny, furry pack, gripping the ends of his hair for stability. “Apparently it’s mine now.”

They reached a dark staircase leading down. A few upended tables were propped up to deter them. A giant “NO” was etched into the face of each table.

A cry escaped Matias’ lips. “Those tables were hand-carved by—”

Drake skirted the barricade and dashed into the sealed section before he ran the risk of hearing any of that story. Some of the rooms were intact, but as he ventured further in, the stone floor of the hallway showed massive cracks. After he rounded one more corner, the cause was apparent. He skidded to a stop at the rubble-piled edge of a ripped chunk of castle. Any part of the floor could fall into the ocean at any time.

“Watch your footing,” Drake warned Cliff as the man came up behind him. The warning should have been unnecessary, but this was Cliff. He could hurt himself on a sand dune.

“Head around.” The sultry voice gave him chills. “Pin them in!”

Drake dropped behind the rubble and tugged Cliff down with him.

“How did they spot us?” grumbled Matias, jogging up behind.

“Not us,” said Cliff, pointing. Over the top of the jumbled, broken stones, they could see a set of pirates entering the broken room across from them. That particular room must have taken the brunt of a stone breaker’s explosion.

“Oh no,” Matias yell-whispered. “The chandelier.”

Drake looked. A large chandelier in the middle of the room across from them looked like it was falling, much like everything else in this place, but he could see how a hole in the ceiling might give access to a space between this floor and the floor above. The pirates were searching closets and adjoining rooms, blades withdrawn, prepared to run through anyone they encountered.

“They’re up there,” Cliff added.

They? Whatever was going on, somebody was about to be pinned in by pirates. They could do little from over here, and nothing quickly. “You two circle around behind the pirates,” Drake decided. “I’ll get their attention.”

“Why do you get to stay safe over here?” Matias whined. To be honest, Drake found Matias whiny by nature, so maybe that was just his voice.

“Safe?” Drake chuckled. “I’m the only one who has a shot of not getting killed as a distraction.”

“You really think she’ll be happy to see you?” Cliff asked warily.

It looked like Cliff had recognized the voice as well.

“No,” Drake said, “but I think she’ll want to kill me slowly with her own bare hands, so that will buy us some time. Go. Figure out how to get over there.”

Quita would have no more running. She leapt off Cliff’s back and onto Drake’s head.

“I’m not having any of this right now, Quita,” Drake threatened, reaching up to grab her. Anticipating his response, she dove down the back of his loose shirt, burrowing near his lower back. He gave up on her.

Since an entire room had crumbled away, Cliff and Matias needed to circle around quite some way before they could reach the spot the pirates were searching. Drake waited as long as he could stand before he peeked out. Esmona was directly under the chandelier. With the way it had slipped down, it had handholds, he realized, forming a ladder. If Esmona looked up right now, she would see it too.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Drake hopped to the clearest vantage point.

“Hey, Es,” Drake hollered. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Esmona spun to face him, withdrawing a dagger on her hip in the same smooth motion. He was glad to be out of reach.

Esmona was the kind of woman who had command of every room she walked into. She was an eye-catching mix of Baysellian style with her own twist. Instead of bright, flowing scarves, she wore tight, dramatically-dyed leathers with copious weaponry strapped in places both functional and seductive. Assuming her goal was to make men want her while knowing they could never have her, her style was a resounding success. Her hair was tied back in chunks, separating the white blond streaks from the teal-dyed streaks. Last time Drake had seen her, her dramatic hair of choice had been jagged, fire red tips. She was too vain for her own good, but it was hard to fault her for it, because it worked. She was stunning. Drake had no need to exaggerate her beauty to worm himself into her good graces, but he had definitely exaggerated the value he placed on her purposefully mesmerizing features. He preferred people who did not wear their abrasive personalities like a signpost, especially when the signpost just said, “Look at me!”

“Drake,” she growled with her thick, upper coast accent. Listening to her was the equivalent of being drizzled in honey, likely to serve as bait for a bear at a later time. “I could have guessed you were involved in this.”

After the trade massacre and the loss of their leader, Zara, the Scorps were too weak to maintain a presence in Seavale. Therefore, there was no need to meet the pirates’ demands of healing potion. When Drake no longer had a need to steal from the pirates’ stash of healing potion to trade it back to them, he may have ended things badly with Esmona.

“Involved in what?” he asked.

“That’s it?” she snarled. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

By “ended badly,” of course he meant “disappeared without a word.” He should probably start dealing with his problems before no corner of the world was free of those he had wronged. Of course, it was hard to label Esmona as wronged. Could one wrong the Terran equivalent of fire?

“I’m sorry, Es,” he said. That was partly true. He was sorry he was here talking to her. “If you come over here, I can explain things.”

“A suspicious woman might find your timing a bit too convenient,” she said, tossing the dagger between her two hands. She yelled out into the hallway. “You’ll find something interesting across the divide, boys. Head over.”

As long as Cliff and Matias managed to stay out of their way, this was good news. Not good news for Drake, necessarily, but at least the pirates were searching in the wrong spot.

“Why don’t you come yourself, Es,” he suggested. “I’ve missed our chats.”

“Talking,” she laughed. “I’m sure that’s what you missed, Drake. As much as I would love to hear your lies and slit your throat, maybe not in that order, I’m searching for some thieves.”

“Come now, Es,” he scoffed. “Who would steal from pirates?”

Honestly, stealing from pirates was surprisingly easy. They were terrible record keepers.

She had no answer because she stepped forward, peering down below. Sounds of an argument floated up, but the opponents were not in Drake’s view. Before he could crane his head over the edge to see if Issabeth was still alive, he caught a flicker of movement up above. Half a face peered out from the hidden space between floors. His heart swelled. Rosaliy was alive. He had believed in her survival in an objective way, but he had been far too cynical to think he would actually see Rosaliy again.

There she was. For an instant, the chaos around him froze. She caught his eye and flashed him a little smile. The chaos around him zoomed back up to speed. Whatever she was doing up there, he needed to get Esmona out of that room so she could climb down. Luckily, Esmona was too distracted to notice Drake staring up like an idiot.

Rosaliy’s eyes shifted and she, too, leaned forward to get a better view down below. He could safely say he had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

Then, her eyes widened. Her fingers curled around the crumbling lip of the ceiling. A crack of lightning shot up and struck the stone shelf underneath her. She was above the room that had crumbled away along with the cliffside, so Rosaliy was suspended over open ocean. When the lightning struck and the floor broke open under her, she fell straight down.