Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Black Dragon
Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.
― Neil Gaiman
"Your first born child."
The words rang in my ears over and over again.
I stared at the tall man, unsure of how to react. With a last ditch effort, I laughed at his so-called 'price' for helping me with the curse-breaker. It was almost like an inside joke and only I knew the punchline.
"My first born child?" I repeated after him, quite smug. Al stood off, awkwardly, to the side behind me. Voltaire did not move from his chair. I continued to laugh, but after a few moments of silence from both men, and Voltaire's wicked smile grew, and I simply smirked.
"That is what I stated, my dear, Faye."
I stared at him. This man didn't know what he was getting himself into.
"Alright, you have yourself a deal."
Al's jaw dropped and he jumped forward, breaking the intense stare between Voltaire and I.
"Whoa, whoa, Faye! Have you thought this through at all? He's asking for your first child-"
"There's no need for that, Alastair," Voltaire, flicking his hand in Al's direction to keep him quiet. Al tries to talk but nothing comes out as he moves his lips. I give a look to Al, telling him to stop, and walk up to Voltaire as the man stands from behind his desk.
"We have a deal," I repeat, standing my ground. Voltaire's grin, if even possible, grows another size before he pulls out a piece of parchment from between the pages of a book sitting in front of him and produces a pen from the insides of his robe.
"If you don't mind signing right there at the bottom, then."
I take the pen from him, and press the parchment to the hardness of the desk to get a good support as I sign. I'm surprised when the ink dries red instead of the usual blue or black. I finish with the last letter of my name and am surprised when some of the ink pools into the palm of my hand. It's then I realize I've signed in my own blood.
I drop the pen, and grab at my wrist to see the extent of the cuts the pen put in my fingers. They seal up before my own eyes. I stand bewildered; I had never seen anything like that happen before. How was it possible?
Magic.
I look up at Voltaire as he snatches the document and rolls it into a small cylinder to be hidden in his robe. I glare and drop my hands to my side. The puddle of blood grows slightly as the last bits of blood drip off my palm. Of course he would pull a stunt like that; he is a lunatic-magician after all.
"Are we done here?" I ask, ready to leave this crazy country and get back to my Ace and free Siren from an equally lunatic-magician and go back to making clothes. Is that so hard to ask?
"Yes, we are," he says, still smiling and hands me a small scroll. It appeared from nowhere. He just simply unfolded his hand and it was there. "Your end of the bargain." I snatch the scroll up just as he had done with the parchment and unroll it. A simple phrase is written across the paper.
"When I recite this Siren will be free from her imprisonment charm?"
Voltaire's grin continues; he does not confirm what I say to be true. Until he says, "Only a very powerful Witch may use a curse-breaker, as it is an equally powerful disenchantment."
I frown and wave off what he says, for now. Finally able to, and with Al stumbling out behind me, I leave the room. I have no clue where I'm going but I just walk in any direction that I can; I must be doing okay if Al hasn't stopped me yet.
We had come in through one of the back gates, away from the traffic of the students and instructors of the magical academy, but this time we were going out the front, I had deduced, from the heavy traffic of young men walking around chatting with books in their arms. There were a few older, gray-haired men that stumbled past the students into various rooms, but I had yet to see a single female. Most of the boys that I passed looked at me with an astonished expression on their face. It was as if they had never seen a woman up close or something.
"Why do they keep staring at me, Al?" I ask, catching another pair of eyes wandering over my body. Al's answer is a whisper in my ear.
"This is a male-Witch only academy. The only females that are usually seen here are cleaning maids."
I frown at this, and look around. Sure enough, there's not a single female body but one that's dressed in an ill-fitting black dress with an apron on, carrying a mop bucket through the courtyard.
"Then how do the women learn magic?"
"Their fathers and husbands. Syra and I were taught by our father, but I learned more than she did. Whatever magic she knows that father didn't teach her is illegal magic, since she learned it from a book or another Witch."
"Well that's stupid. A woman Witch can be just as powerful as, if not more than, a man Witch."
"It used to be where only women knew magic," Al tells me as we find the main street back into the harbor city. "But one witch taught her sons magic and soon others were teaching their brothers and sons, before there was a large civil war between the men and women. The men won, and since then women may only learn what magic their fathers see fit."
"History is his story, after all," I mumble and cross my arms, this time following Al. Every now and then I'll glance down at my hand, trying to find the cuts that were made into my fingers, but all I see if fresh, smooth skin. Not a single scar. However, during my seconds of concentrating on where exactly the pen had cut into my skin, the growing crowd of male Witch students seems to disperse.
"Miss Callaghan."
Al had stopped behind me, and I follow, pausing in my leisure pace to look at the woman standing not too far from us. She's dressed in a light purple dress, the neckline plunging down her chest, with a black cloak with gold leaf accents hanging on her shoulders, the clasp a small family crest resting in the middle of the throat.
"Who are you?"
I am starting to regret doing this. I should have listened to Ace and my inner conscious. There could have been another way to free Siren, but here I was, in some unknown country with who knows how many people after me, just trying to free some person I barely knew and Ace more than likely tearing up the whole Eastern seaboard looking for me before Uncle Marco can get a hold of him and tear him a new one. Was all this really worth it?
Was it?
"My name is Jura. I wish to help you in your task."
The name… it feels as if cotton has covered my memory. I know that name, as if I heard it in passing. She's very soft-faced, and the purple brings out the bright irises that are almost the same color. Her black hair blends into the soft velvet of her cloak.
"You do wish to keep your promise and free the others on Obadiah's ship, correct?"
"Jura predicts a storm later tonight. The Captain wishes to go around it."
"You were on the ship."
Jura nods, her black hair bellowing in a sudden breeze, and suddenly she looks more like a sea goddess than a Witch's prisoner.
"Correct, however, I do believe that this is not the area to be speaking on this topic. Shall we go back to my cottage?"
"How do I know I can trust you?"
Jura has her hands clasped together; the sleeves of her dress drape down and cover them. She smiles softly, nodding, and pulls something from underneath the sleeve. It is a small piece of black fabric, ripped and frayed.
"If you help me free myself, along with the other girls, this fabric will keep you hidden from Voltaire. And I do believe you're going to need it in the near future, if I'm correct in saying that he wishes for your first born?"
"Wait, what?"
Jura just continues to smile and clasps her hands back. "Come, follow me. Your friend may accompany us if he wishes." Jura turns and walks down the cobbled road. I chase after her, leaving Alastair behind as I try to catch up. She has caught my attention, but it is mainly of how she knows such information.
"How did you know about my deal with Voltaire?" I ask Jura as I step beside the woman. She is my height, no taller, with a slim body that the purple dress clings to. It makes me miss my own purple jacket. My fingers play with the hem of the shirt I'm wearing, not use to the tight material.
"The same way I know that you will free Siren and the other girls, and the fate that will become of the Whitebeard pirates in just a year's time." I watch her, trying to see any waver in her expression, but she holds the same gentle look keeping her eyes forward as we walk away from the center of town. "I have been able to see what will become of certain people, Miss Callaghan. My first vision, in fact, was of you walking on Obadiah's ship."
"You can see the future?"
"Yes, Miss Callaghan," Jura says with a chortle underneath her breath. "I can see what is to come in the future."
"But why me?"
Jura stops walking, and so do I. I'm confused, I'm intrigued, I want to know more. She looks to me, and her soft look has turned into one of deep-though. And then she speaks.
"That is something I've never been able to answer, Miss Callaghan, but maybe we can answer it together."
OF MEMOIRS AND MAPS
"Hama. Hama, wake up."
The dark-skinned woman jerks up, grabbing at a blunt object hidden under her pillow. I grin at her, holding my hands up, as her eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the room. Mona and Kurie woke up from beside her, confused over the short commotion.
"Faye?"
"I kept my promise, but you have to hurry before the guards make their patrol back around."
The three quickly jumped from their beds, dressed in nothing more than sleeping gowns, and went over to awake the other three. I looked around the large room, listening to the cracks and whines from the walls of the inner part of the ship. I could hear the ocean currents crash into the side, before receding back and the process starting again. I missed the pirate life, I was fond of the adventure and the friends and the new sights that brought on colors I had never seen before.
"Faye?" I looked up at the call of my name, and found everyone ready. Vevan looked so… pale. She looked too fragile and as if she would fall apart with one wrong touch. "We're ready."
I nod, take a deep breath, and turn.
"Are you sure this will work?" I ask Jura, staring at the drawn out plans on the table. The seer nods her head, sipping softly at her tea.
"I have seen it in my vision and so it will happen."
I sigh, rubbing my hand down the length of face. I feel dirty and sticky from sweat and ready to be back on the Moby Dick. Ready to be back to Ace. Jura stands, suddenly, the cup of fresh tea she has in her hands falling to the ground. I look at her, surprised by the sudden action, but she's deathly still, staring out into the space of air just inches from her face. Her eyes move slowly, as if watching the waves crash into the beach sand.
"Jura?"
There's only a few more seconds before she has her eyes trained on me. She looks… scared? Worried?
"Jura, did you have another vision?"
She nods, and leaves me in the kitchen of her cottage, going to her room where she leaves me along for the rest of the day. The next morning, early in day when the sun hasn't even risen, she wakes me and we hurry out toward the harbor where Obadiah's ship is anchored.
Waiting outside the door is Jura, carrying six black cloaks. She hands one to each of the girls, and I pull my own over my head, nodding to Jura as she leads the way. We follow at least a hall behind the guards, not too close but not too far that they'll see us. Their pace is slow and leisurely, almost as if they are about to fall asleep on their feet.
Jura opens one of the doors to left, and it leads out into the open area of the deck. Jura ushers us out before closing the door almost silent. There's just a slight rush of air showing the change in pressure in the inside quarters. But it is enough, apparently. Just enough.
"My dear little charm, where have you been?"
I freeze up, staring at the tall dark figure of Obadiah as he stares down at us.
"And it seems you've made a little friend with my seer. My, my, what have you two been planning?"
Jura is pulling me to the side, where another ship is mere feet from the railing, a full crew helping the others over and onto the new ship. Obadiah roars something between a yell and something almost animalistic as I go barreling over the railing. Bright yellow sparks light up the early morning sky, and a few splinters go flying as he hits the wooden railing, but otherwise we're sailing away, going faster and faster as two Witches manipulate the window to push the sails. Soon, we get too far to hear Obadiah's yells anymore. The sun has risen, and this enormous weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
I take up one of the walls on the quarter deck, watching the crew and just taking in freedom. Vevan sits beside me, not as pale as earlier.
"You're nothing like your brother," she says to me, and I slowly look away from the beginnings of the blue sky to her.
"You know Jyrik?"
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself, almost as if she's cold but the sun is warm and fuzzy against our skin.
"We've been married for two years now." For some reason, I laugh, because of all the people I come in contact with it would for her. She doesn't look at me, just keep staring forward, counting the fibers in the wooden boards. "I saw you at your mother's funeral. You're very courageous."
"I'm very far from courageous."
"No, really, you aren't. You stood up to your brother. I love him, but I love the old Jyrik, not the new one that the Marines have molded and shaped into the monster he is."
I nod, and wrap my arm around her shoulders. Her skin is cold and clammy. "How does it feel to be married to a ruthless Marine and the sister-in-law to a crazy band of pirates?"
Vevan laughs softly, at first, until it's a full out boisterous one and I join in with her. That is how we sit for five minutes, laughing and looking at each other through tear-filled eyes because everything just seemed so perfect for that one moment in time.
"Incoming!"
Crash.
The entire ship shakes. Vevan and I grab onto anything that will help us keep our balance and not go tumbling over the railing. The same animalistic roar comes again, and the ship continues to shake.
"Faye!" Jura yells, running up the steps to the quarter deck, but all I see is the giant black beast crawling up the front of the ship. His wings long and black and leathery; teeth sharper than a razor with translucent-green slime dripping down and coating the deck. "Faye, run!"
But I can't run. I have nowhere to go. I'm left on the ship, anchored to the wood like a cannonball. Vevan is shaking beside me, no longer laughing. We're fearful. We thought we were free but we weren't. We were given false hope and now our efforts were futile. There's nothing more we can do.
The dragon crawls faster, swiping away the crew members that go after it with swords and pick-axes and pistols. He's crawling toward us, roaring out hot air that smells like death.
This is what death is.
He rears back, crawling taller and taller until he's almost as tall as the mass. His chest swells and a small light can be seen underneath. I have never feared fire before now. Whenever I saw it, it reminded me of Ace because he was my comfort. But not anymore. No, this was death and it reminded me that I could not escape it for as long as I ran. Soon the road would end and it would be either jumping off the cliff or face the adversary face on.
I was once a coward, but not anymore. I was going to face him, because I had brought this upon myself. And now… now I was going to pay for my mistakes. It was either this, or drown and be eaten by a sea king.
He's barely meters away, his deep black eyes staring at me.
"Faye…" he bellows, reaching out with a giant claw to pluck me up and take me back to Witch Country. "My beautiful little charm-"
"Don't touch her!"
The flash of orange and red against the black is a striking contrast, lighting up the skin and ripping through the black skin to meet pink muscle. Obadiah roars, this time in pain, as flames incase his entire back left leg.
I let out the breath I had not known I was holding in. Of course he would come and save me.
He always came and saved me.
The scene begins to unfold, with Ace climbing up side of the dragon, thrusting fire balls into his skin every time the long scaly tail would swat at him. The dragon roared more, and when he flapped his wings to try and shake Ace off, the crazy pirate latched onto one of the wings and pulled and pulled until the thick bone snapped and left the monster grounded.
Slowly, the black creature fizzled down into the crouched form of Obadiah. His left leg was red and black from charred burns and his arm was hanging limply at his side. The crew overtakes him, shackling him and pulling him underneath deck. Jura watches as the smoke and flame eases away into the clear blue sky dissipating into nothingness.
Somehow, in the mist of a blur covering my mind that screams what just happened how am I still alive, I end up on the deck in Ace's arms now smelling like blood and smoke.
"You're going to be the death of me," he says, and I couldn't agree more. I always put him in danger having to save me, and I wanted that to stop. I had to stop making stupid mistakes, or learn how to pay the price for it myself.
"I know, and I'm sorry."
His arms tighten around me, and suddenly I hear the shouts and hollers from the Whitebeard crew, all happy to know that their 2nd Commander's 'girl' was safe and they had not lost another sister.
"Just don't do it again," he tells me, and I silently say I can't promise anything, but the kiss he gives me is warm and loving. I missed this. I missed us. We really needed a vacation from the pirate life. Just go up and down the Grandline, taking in all the colors and smells and food and just enjoy each other until we grew too old and fat to take care of ourselves.
"Alright, Pix, come here," Marco says, pulling me from Ace and into his own scarred chest, and it was just as warm and opening. He quietly whispers that he was worried, and it makes me wonder who was worried more – Marco or Ace?
"You're in so much trouble right now, Faye," Ace says, and I believe him whole-heartedly.
"But I completed my mission and that is all that matters."
Marco raises a thin blonde eyebrow. "Eh?"
"I found my sister-in-law," I tell them, motioning over to the happy group of girls, Vevan, specifically. "I found a way to free Siren," I pull the small scroll from my pocket, showing the crumbled roll of parchment. "And I learned a few new things about my future."
Jura smiles fondly at me, and I know I've found a wonderful new friend.
"Faye, you can't just take away something that is someone's because you-"
"Because what, Marco? Because I feel like she should be treated as an actual person and not some object? Just how heartless has the Grandline made you?"
Marco falls silent at my words. From here, looking over my uncle's shoulder, I can see Lorenzo staring at us, his white-yellow hair pulled back from his face and his dark blue eyes saying thousands of things. Siren stands behind him, her waist covered in the same cream-colored sheet he had originally given her back before I had left. I clutch the parchment in my hand, remembering the price it had cost me. A life of freedom for a life of servitude, right?
But if Jura's fabric really worked, then I wouldn't have anything to worry about, right?
I stepped away from Marco and Ace, making my way over to the railing. Whitebeard's ship was getting closer and closer, and I could almost see the thoughts running through Lorenzo's mind. Time for the tidal wave to make landfall.
"Lorenzo," I piped out of my little lungs, and he looked to me with much disdain. "Free Siren, now."
He chuckles, but it is in amusement over my fruitless attempt. "I don't believe that is how the curse-breaker goes."
"No? Well let's try and see, yeah?" I call back, and grab onto the sleeve of Jura's dress. "Jura, say this for me."
"What? Faye, I can't! I'm not powerful enough! I can barely do a simple cleaning spell and-"
"Jura," I look her in the eye, both pleading and confident. "You can do it."
Lorenzo seems smug, as if he knows Jura cannot conjure the spell, but if she can't, than everything I just did was in vain.
(Or was it? I had freed all of the girls and Jura. I had saved them from an eternal life of servitude to a crazy man with almost unlimitless power. I could save them, but maybe Siren wasn't meant to be saved…)
"Maledicite Solvo!"
It didn't work. I knew it wouldn't work. Lorenzo, the Magician of Maverick, just laughs loudly, boisterously, and turns to walk away. The crew parts like the sea as he walks between them. Siren looks at me, some thanks showing in her eyes, before she's pulled by an invisible string that tied her to Lorenzo.
It had been in vain.
Jura sighed and rolled the small piece of parchment up. "Some battles cannot be won."
"But I have to win the war."
Jura looks to me, and I look back at her. Ace is talking with Marco quietly in the background, and I know it is about Siren. I couldn't save her, and I didn't know if I was more disappointed or more angered by that fact.
"Jura," I added. "I think it is time that you told me of your vision back in the cottage."
OF MEMOIRS AND MAPS
A/N: oh my dear lord it's been over a year.
So, during the year it has been, I completed my first year of college and read over this story about 10 times, total. I've kept with it for almost 4 ½ years now, which it amazing for me, and I must say my writing style has evolved vastly over the past 4 ½ years. I do plan on rewriting most of the beginning chapters, and I will either post the new rewrites separately, or I may just update the chapters. I'll let you know what I decide.
Until then, I hope to update this story a bit more in the near future. Keep an eye out. Reviews are always wonderful. Cheerio!
Bri xx
