I wandered the halls of the Sea Ghost, contemplating the conversation with my father. He hadn’t accused anyone directly of stealing the orb, but he didn’t have to.
Someone in power would want the orb—someone who had a lot to lose. And they may have started the fire above deck as an opportunity to search for it. I’d sensed magic in the fire, and only a few people onboard still possessed magic, like my father, who still had some use of his. So far, the princess appeared to have no magic, but it seemed illogical to suppose that she had none at all.
Princess Euralysia had been sick since we’d arrived, but what if she had been acting? Not long ago, she’d tricked the Wults into believing her powers were limited. Could she be tricking me now?
There was only one way to find out.
The ship lurched, and I braced myself against the wall. As I approached my cabin, I found Heidel and Ket inside. The room was nearly put back together. Ket smiled as I entered, though Heidel gave me her usual scowl.
“Have you seen the princess?” I asked.
“No,” Ket answered. “She left a little while ago.”
“Left? Where? In her condition? Did she say where she was going?”
“To get some fresh air, I believe. You might try finding her above deck.”
“Thanks,” I said and turned away from them, still confused at how the princess was capable of leaving the cabin.
“Be careful,” Heidel said.
I stopped and turned around. “Careful?”
“Yes. We’ve come upon quite a squall. The captain is preparing to drop anchor once we’ve reached the straits in order to wait out the storm. It’s quite dangerous above deck.”
“Is it?”
“It is,” she said drily. “I would hate for you to fall overboard and drown. Nasty way to go.”
Her concern was overwhelming. “I’ll be careful.”
“See that you are.”
I left the room and followed the hall to the stairwell, trying to ignore Heidel’s comments. I took the stairs leading to the deck and popped open the hatch. As soon as the door swung open, salty sea spray gusted through. The damp wind stung my face as I climbed above and slammed the hatch lid shut.
Crewmembers clamored around and shouted orders, though the crashing waves muffled their voices. Most of them held on to ropes tied around thick wooden beams. The ship creaked as a wave hit the side.
Gray clouds obscured the morning sunlight as I dodged the crewmen and made my way toward the wheelhouse. I couldn’t imagine why the princess had come up here. It seemed like an awful time to catch a bit of fresh air, especially in her supposed condition. What was she really up to?
I spotted movement inside the wheelhouse and noticed that someone had strapped oilskin tarps around the wheelhouse’s burnt walls. Ducking through the broken doorframe, I pushed the tarp aside and entered.
The room smelled of charred wood, although I was surprised to find it mostly intact. The starboard wall had taken the most damage, and blackened wooden beams supported an oilskin tarp on that side. However, the majority of the room looked as I remembered.
The captain barked orders as one of his crewmen, a heavyset boy with thick, untrimmed hair, stood at the wheel. At the side of the room near the bookshelf, I found who I’d come for.
Euralysia sat in the corner with several maps laid out on a small table. She was studying the maps so intently I didn’t think she noticed as I approached her. Her necklace caught my eye. Three crystals hung suspended from a silver chain, each glowing with a different-colored light—amber, blue, and black—illuminating her face and neck.
She looked up as I approached her. “Olive?” she said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Yes,” I answered. “I’m surprised to see you here, too.”
The captain gave me a brief glance. “Another now? How many enchantresses does a ship need? I suppose you can stay, as long as you can help this one navigate.” He nodded to the princess.
“You’re navigating?” I asked her.
“I am attempting to.”
The captain turned back to his crewman. “Keep the wheel steady!”
“I can’t! It’s impossible to keep straight. The nave plate wasn’t properly repaired.”
“Yes, it was. I repaired it myself.”
“Then why does the wheel keep locking up?”
“Let me try.” Captain Tobin grabbed the wheel from his crewman. “Princess,” he yelled over his shoulder, “how far are we from those straits?”
“Less than half a league.”
“Good,” the captain answered. “If this gale keeps up, we’ll be there soon enough. After dropping anchor, I’ll have to go below deck to find a suitable replacement for the nave plate. It, ahh… wasn’t properly repaired,” he said quietly.
The crewman eyed the captain but kept his mouth shut. Smart kid.
Outside the wheelhouse, the ocean churned. White-capped waves crashed into the ship’s hull, splattering droplets of seawater on the windows.
After the wave passed, I sat beside the princess and glanced at the maps. “I didn’t realize you had an interest in navigation.”
“I don’t. But after the captain lost most of his maps in the fire, he asked me to help him navigate. Luckily for him, I brought my own maps along.”
“You have maps of the outer islands?”
“Yes.” She slid one closer to me. “I have a passing interest in geography. I knew we would need maps of the outer islands once we arrived, though I didn’t realize I would need to use them this soon.”
Studying the maps, I noted they were drawn in the traditional elven style, with the script written in scrolling calligraphy and the landmasses painted in shimmering golds and greens. I leafed through the stack and found a few maps illustrated with animals dotting the isles. The only species I recognized were dragons, though they were drawn with thick, grayish hides, not the smooth scales of the land species.
“Do you know anything about these dragons?” the princess asked me.
“I can’t remember their correct name. I believe they’re called rock dragons, or possibly stone dragons.”
“They’re called ore dragons,” the captain yelled over his shoulder, “because their scales look like ore from the volcanic mountains they live in. They’re mighty testy. Impossible to kill with those thick hides. Just like stabbing a rock. Best to leave those creatures be.”
“We may not be able to avoid them,” I said. “If they’re anything like their land brothers, they’ll be distinguished for their clairvoyance. They may be the only creatures capable of helping us find where to put the bloom.”
“Ha!” the captain laughed. “That’ll not be a visit I’ll make with you.”
The ship lurched, and a loud groan sounded through the cabin. Outside, shouts echoed, and a crewman burst into the room.
“We’ve made it to the straits!” he said.
“Good,” the captain answered. “Drop anchor. I’m going below deck.” He turned to his crewman. “Follow me, Goodwin. I’ll need someone to help me search.” He looked at us before leaving. “Ladies, I assume you can keep watch while I’m below?”
“Of course,” the princess answered.
As soon as we dropped anchor, the captain and crewmen left the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, the room seemed unusually quiet, with only the lurching of the ship and the waves crashing outside to remind us we were at sea. I turned back to the maps.
On the bottom of the stack, I found a map with a winding path drawn on a smaller island. Some sort of passage, perhaps? Inspecting it more closely, I was surprised to find that a structure had been sketched on the island’s center. It was an odd building—round, with three rows of walls, each circling one another, almost like a labyrinth. I tried to study it more closely, but the princess pulled it away from me. I eyed her as she restacked the pages, keeping the map with the labyrinth on the bottom.
What was that?
There shouldn’t have been any structures at all on those isles. Obviously, the princess knew what it was—why else would she try to hide it from me?
“Your maps are impressive,” I said, “although I wonder how a labyrinth would be drawn on them.”
She gave me a sharp glance. “That was not for you to see.”
“Yet I saw it—the damage has been done. Do you care to explain what’s out there?”
“I would rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because it is guarded information. I cannot trust anyone on this ship. Not even you.”
“But I will be making the journey with you. And as I carry the bloom, don’t you think it wise to share with me? It would be in your best interest. I would hate to bring the bloom to the wrong island, wouldn’t you?”
Crossing her arms, she gave me a shrewd look. “I can tell you only what I’ve been told. These maps were drawn mostly by magical scribes with scrying abilities. They recorded only what they saw, although they were also baffled by what lies out there—by the unusual structure. As far as we know, there are no species living on those isles who have the ability to create such architecture.” She removed the paper from the bottom of the stack. “It is drawn with three rings, and each circles the other. Have you ever seen a structure such as this?”
I knew she was toying with me. Any practitioner with half a brain would have known what it was. “It’s the orbis majica,” I said, “or magical circle. It’s considered a sacred symbol by many cultures, including elves. It’s also a very ancient symbol—and was said to be the first magic word learned by practitioners.”
She nodded. “You are correct. However, long ago, this symbol was also used in protection spells.”
I scrutinized the map. “If that’s the case, then what is this labyrinth protecting?”
She shook her head. Reflexively, she clutched the crystals hanging around her neck. Three crystals—just like the three circles. Was it a coincidence? Three was a common magical number, but still, I had a feeling the crystals and labyrinth may have had something in common. Maybe it was intuition, but I sensed there was more to those crystals than she was letting on—and that there was more to the labyrinth, as well. Besides, she seemed to have miraculously regained her strength, and her crystals were the only explanation for it.
“Few elves have actually traveled to the islands,” she said, “which is what worries me, and which is why I will spare you from all the theories I’ve been told as to how the structure appeared on the outer isle. Some even claim that it was constructed by space travelers. However, I’m determined to know the truth, for we must know what we’re up against. Here.” She scooted the map with the animals to me. “Do you recognize any of these species?”
“Dragons,” I said. “That’s about it.”
She nodded. “That makes two of us. What do you think of this creature?” She pointed to a black, scaly creature with spines protruding from its back and neck. The artist had drawn it with eight legs that ended in claws.
“I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Nor have I.”
A black skull took up the center of the island. “What’s this?” I asked her.
“It denotes creatures that our scribes could not see.”
I eyed the mark. “But if they couldn’t see them, how do they know they’re there?”
A dark look crossed her face. “Because they are creatures who reside within the labyrinth, who possess a very strong magic and are able to use their powers to keep their identities hidden.”
“Do your scribes know anything else about them?”
“Only that they are very dangerous. The first person to scry upon these creatures lost consciousness. After that, he was plagued by hallucinations, and the visions eventually drove him mad. He took his own life after that.”
I stared, shocked. Elves abhorred suicide. For an elf to take his own life meant that he must have been driven to extreme measures. “That’s horrible,” I said. “Was anyone else affected by these visions?”
“Yes,” she answered. “And they got worse. The original scribes who discovered these creatures grew increasingly unstable. Eventually, they had to be locked away for their own protection. None were able to explain what these creatures were, though assumptions have been made.”
“The Regaymor?” I suggested.
“That is one possibility, although the creatures have inhabited this island for hundreds of years, and the Regaymor crossed to our world only recently.”
“That’s true. And why would they be on the islands? My stepfather said he sent them away.”
“Yes, the sky king did indeed banish the Regaymor on the dragon islands, but this island,” she pointed to the smallest island, “is not inhabited by dragons.”
“So my stepfather wouldn’t have traveled there.” Scanning the map, I recognized the smaller island as the same place with the labyrinth, although the structure had not been drawn on this map. “Do you know anything else about the island?”
She leafed through the stack and pulled out a more detailed map. The word Verutith was written over the landmass.
“Verutith is a word from the archaic elven language. It was the name given to this island centuries ago. Do you know what this word means?” she asked.
“No,” I answered. “I’m not very familiar with the old language.”
“In the ancient dialect, verus means blood, and otith is a sacrifice.”
“‘Blood sacrifice’? Why would it be called by that name?” I asked.
“I—I don’t know.” Her eyes darted from mine. “Elves are very guarded with their knowledge. Only a few are instructed in the old language and of our history before the Uniting.”
She knew something, but she didn’t want to tell me. I couldn’t let her dodge the subject; I had to know more about that island. If it was to be the bloom’s final resting place, which I was beginning to suspect it was, then I had to be prepared for whatever lay ahead.
“But as a member of the royal house, weren’t you instructed in the old ways?”
She swallowed. “I was, when I was much younger.”
“Then do you know why the island is called by that name?”
“I only have theories. As I said, elven knowledge is very guarded.”
“What are your theories?”
She gave me a shrewd look as her voice dropped to a whisper. “Will you be careful with what I tell you?”
I nodded.
She seemed to debate whether to tell me before she spoke up. “Do you know of the first elven king, Pa’horan?”
“Pa’horan—he united the elves?”
“Yes. Most are taught of Pa’horan and his reign—of how he first united the elves—but they are not taught everything. In those days, elves were bloodthirsty. War was a way of life, and it nearly drove our people into extinction. Pa’horan was adamant that war be stopped at any cost. He forbade violence of any sort. Laws were put into place that ensured his wishes were carried through—laws that still exist today. Although, it seems some of his original decrees are in danger of being modified.”
“Modified how?”
She hesitated. “There are some who think certain acts of violence should be tolerated.”
“What sort of violence?”
“It’s a specific sort of torture called the voic-py’anah. It’s a method that inflicts pain on a person’s magical psyche. It is considered the worst pain that can be experienced by anyone who possesses magical powers because the torture utilizes all forms of pain—mental, physical, and spiritual. Most who experience this torture do not survive, and if they do, they no longer resemble the person they once were.
“There are some who wish this torture to be legalized—and they are willing to go to great lengths to make this happen.”
“But why would anyone wish to legalize torture?”
“Can you not think of a reason?”
My thoughts brought me to Earth’s history. There had been times when torture had been accepted. An image came to mind—a picture I’d seen in a library book about concentration camps. I still couldn’t forget that image. It was a black-and-white photo of a man sitting on a worn mattress. His face was so sunken and his bones protruded so badly that I wasn’t sure how he was still alive. The Nazis had done that to him to make a better, purer race—and they weren’t the only ones to have those same ideals. White slavers, Irish immigrants, Egyptians, Israelites—the list went on and on.
My stomach sickened. “Yes,” I said quietly, “I guess I can understand, because it happened on Earth.”
“For what reasons?” she asked.
“None,” I answered. “At least, not any that count. There’s never a good reason to put yourself above someone else—to think you’re better than others—to think you have the power to dominate, or torture, or kill because your life somehow matters more. It’s the corruption of human nature—it’s evil.”
“Yes,” the princess agreed, “but there are some—many, actually—who disagree. There are those who believe they see the future with more clarity than others. They seek to make our world a better, more habitable place, a safe haven for our descendants. Some believe that an ideal world can only be achieved through the eradication of the lesser species.”
I eyed her. “It almost sounds as if you agree with that sentiment.”
“Of course not. I only relate to you what has been told to me. Besides, it is of little consequence what I believe.” She turned back to the map.
I wasn’t thrilled with her answer. What did she believe?
“It is rumored that the voic-py’anah was once practiced on Verutith.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. It is quite possible that we are traveling to a magical epicenter, and that labyrinth is at the center of it.”
I mulled over her statement, recalling a conversation I’d had with Fan’twar. “My stepfather once told me that there is a secret, powerful magic on the outer islands, and there are only a few places in Faythander where such places exist. Do you believe this magic exists on Verutith?”
“Yes, I am almost certain of it. Which also makes me fearful. As you know, the torture cannot be performed without magic, which means that magic must be restored for the torture to continue. Geth,” she said, “seeks to bring goblins out of obscurity. He hates elves. He may be interested in restoring the torture so that he can eradicate our species.”
“Geth?” I questioned her. “But if that’s true, why would he destroy the magic in the first place?”
Euralysia’s eyes darkened. “Geth is a Spellweaver, and he is also a goblin, which means that his path will always be clouded. However, his intentions are clear. He wishes for elves to suffer, and that is why he will seek to restore the torture.”
Judging by her and my father’s state of health, it looked like Geth was already doing a good job of it—but I feared what more he had in store. It seemed as if he were taking an eye for an eye. The elves had tortured goblins, and now he would turn the tables. He was bringing back the torture so he could do the same to them.
A wave hit the ship, causing a few maps to slip off the table. She grabbed them up before they fell to the floor. I turned to her, recalling why I’d come to speak with her, intent on finding out whether she’d stolen my enchanted scarf.
“Princess,” I said, “it seems I’ve lost my gray scarf. Have you seen it?”
She eyed me. “A scarf?”
I nodded.
“Do you believe that someone stole it?”
“Yes.”
She clutched her necklace. “I found my Illumina crystals in the galley. You might check there.”
I studied her necklace. “You found it in the galley?”
“Yes, in the kitchens. I’m still perplexed as to how they got there—or who put them there.”
“Yes, I’m also confused.” Could she have taken the enchanted scarf? At this point, I wasn’t sure.
“This scarf,” she said, “was it the item you spellcasted?”
“You knew about that?”
“Yes,” she answered. “I felt its magic in our room and realized you must have spellcasted something, though I wasn’t sure what item you’d chosen. If someone has taken the spellcasted scarf, then this is troubling indeed. Someone is actively seeking the orb. For what reason, I cannot be sure.”
“Do you have any idea who would’ve taken it?”
“No,” she answered, “but you might check in the galley.” She focused on her maps. “I am sorry, but I really must get back to working on this.”
“Of course.” As I left the room, I glanced back at her before exiting through the door. The light from her crystals combined to cast her face in an odd pallor of alternating colors. To me, it seemed that the dark overpowered the light.