Chapter 15
A Rescue and Recovery
Clay crashed blindly through the island's vegetation. He didn't know where he was going. All he felt was that he had to get away. Tears stung his eyes, and his breath was alternating from gasps of exertion to choked sobs. He continued running towards the opposite side of the island until he reached the eastern beach. As Clay staggered onto the sand, his right foot got caught on a piece of driftwood, sending him tumbling into the sand.
For several minutes, he didn't even bother getting up. He just lay there, panting rapidly like a small animal that has been chased by a predator. As he struggled to his knees, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a tide pool and recoiled in horror. A long glowing scar was now running through his left eye, and the eye itself now glowed like a fiery coal.
By now, the weight of what lay before him seemed to crush Clay entirely. He threw back his head and howled. It was a wild sound: a cry of sheer despair. When the final echoes of the noise faded away, Clay felt something soft rub against his arm. Startled, he jerked his head around to see Shadow pressed against his side, whimpering softly. Clay buried his head in the fox's dark, lustrous coat and stroked him behind the ears.
"I don't know what to do, Shadow" he whispered as tears trickled down his face and splashed onto the creature's black fur. "Your master is gone, and so is the dagger. I know many people are counting on me, but I'm just so exhausted. I wish I could bury myself in the sand and sleep for a thousand years." Shadow nuzzled his face with his cold, wet nose and licked away some of the tears from his cheeks. "I was ready to kill Wooly, but now I see what a fool I was. I know now that he didn't betray us, but will he ever forgive me for his attempted murder?"
"Of course I will," replied a soft voice from behind. Wooly sat down on the sand beside him and titled his head back to study the brilliant blue sky. "I know, Clay, that you are trying your best to resist the evil that is the ashen curse. I honestly don't know how you've managed to fight it for so long, and I highly applaud your efforts." He paused, uncertain of how to continue. "I suppose I should offer you and Oliver an apology for never revealing my previous connection to the Servants of the Flame. I was hoping that, if no one discovered my secret, things would go more smoothly that way."
Clay couldn't help but smile sadly. "I tried the same thing after I was cursed. I tried to hide my scratch from everyone, and the feelings of paranoia were terrible. Finally, I knew I had to tell someone. So I told Madame Olwen, who is a liaison for the Order of Souls. She's the one who gave me the goal of defeating Flameheart with the dagger. As for my curse, she advised me…" Clay paused for a moment to remember the words she had said from what seemed like a lifetime ago. "'Don't let your curse define you as it so often does. Instead of letting it infect you with evil, become its master. Turn it into power to do good.' I believe it was because of this advice that I was saved by the hellhound, defeated the megalodon, and lifted the boulder."
"Those were all quite impressive feats," Wooly admitted. He held out one hand. "Now, will you forgive me for betraying your trust?"
Clay reached out and shook it firmly. "Of course. I should never have rushed to judgment that quickly."
Wooly helped the boy to his feet and brushed the sand off his clothes. "Well, Oliver and Matt must be getting worried about us. Let's get back to the western beach." After trekking back through the undergrowth with Shadow following behind, the two of them found their friends sitting around a quickly constructed campfire at the foot of the main path. Matt had fashioned a fishing rod out of a branch and some string, and he and Oliver had taken turns casting the reel offshore for fish. They had managed to secure about four, and two of them were roasting on a makeshift spit over the fire.
"Is everything all right?" Oliver asked.
Wooly nodded. "I am sorry, Oliver, that I wasn't honest about my history with the Servants of the Flame. Will you forgive me?"
"Indeed!" the former merman declared. "I would never dream of holding your past reputation against you, especially if you have tried your best to start anew."
"Well, then, shall we eat?" Matt offered. "All that excitement this morning has left me famished."
"First we eat, then we figure out how to rescue Anthony," Clay decided.
The four of them had just about finished half a fish each when a ship appeared around the northern end of the island.
"Are the skeletons coming back?" Clay worried.
Matt stood up and squinted. "No, it looks like an ordinary sloop to me."
Oliver's eyes lit up. "That must be Anthony's friends! We were about to go and meet them when you and Wooly arrived."
All four sprinted down the beach, waving their arms at the oncoming boat. The captain dropped the anchor, and the companions splashed through the shallows to get closer. Even Shadow paddled out into the water after them.
The boat, named the Awakened, was piloted by two young sailors, and they were eyeing their unexpected visitors suspiciously.
"Where's Anthony?" the first demanded.
"Kidnapped," replied Wooly simply. "He was taken by ashen skeletons, but we know where they've taken him: Molten Sands Fortress."
"That's all the way in the northern region of the Devil's Roar," the second man pointed out. "Why would they take him there?"
"He was carrying a very important item," Clay told them.
The first sailor got a good look at his face and blanched slightly. "Is that…"
"Yes, the ashen curse," Oliver finished hurriedly. "We don't have time to give all the details. All we can tell you now is that the item Anthony had must be reclaimed as soon as possible. Will you please take us to the fortress to rescue him?"
"Well, any friend of Anthony is a friend of ours," the second sailor declared. "I'm Trent, and this is my brother Preston." The two brothers helped the four friends up the side of the boat, including Shadow. "We won't be able to just sail up to the fortress," Trent warned. "Our best course of action would be to sneak in under the cover of night in a rowboat."
"We'll take you back to Morrow's Peak Outpost," Preston decided. "That's where we just came from, and I know I saw a rowboat beached there."
"Morrow's Peak it is," Clay agreed. "And we need to hurry. Now that they have the dagger, Anthony's life won't be worth a fig to them now."
Fortunately, the weather that night was cloudy, shrouding the water in pitch blackness. Matt sat at the oars of the rowboat as Clay perched at the front to keep a lookout. They had been rowing for close to an hour in order to make a wide arc south of Molten Sands Fortress and sneak up on the island from behind its volcano. Once the rowboat at Morrow's Peak Outpost had been secured onto their sloop, Trent and Preston had sailed them to Brian's Bazaar: a trading post within half a mile of the fortress. They lingered there for a bit to put on the appearance of selling goods to the Hunter's Call order before leaving Matt and Clay behind with the rowboat.
The plan was that, after three hours had passed, the sloop would return to the seapost to pick up the rescue team. In the meantime, the party would remain at the outpost where the two brothers would help Wooly and Oliver come up with further plans against Flameheart. Although Matt and Clay were nervous about having no support nearby, they knew that a party of six people would attract attention too easily.
The sea was eerily quiet except for the rhythmic lapping of the waves against the hull of the small craft. In the silence, Clay voiced a fear that had been tugging at him since they had left Devil's Ridge. "How do we know Anthony isn't already dead?"
"If he is," replied Matt stoically, "we return to the sea post and wait for our friends to pick us up. Then our plans against Flameheart will become plans to avenge his death."
Clay nodded, and he returned to studying the black outline of the island looming closer by the minute. He and Matt had decided to sneak onto the island together long enough to find out where Anthony and the dagger were being kept. Once they found out and determined an effective strategy, Matt would slip away to create some kind of distraction while Clay freed Anthony and reclaimed the dagger.
Finally, Matt brought the rowboat up to the beach with a gentle scrape. Clay clambered out to secure the mooring line around a rock, and the two of them began carefully picking their way around the perimeter of the volcano. They forded the narrow span of water between the volcano and the main island and took cover beneath some overhanging rocks. Finding a narrow crevice that ran vertically up the incline, the two of them had to brace their hands and feet against the sides and slowly make their way up. At the top, they peered over the rocks to see the southern side of the main battle tower.
Unlike most of the other forts dotted about the sea, the front of this building was completely open to reveal the staircases and ramps within. Clay suspected that the general smoldering ruin of the place was due to the activity of the nearby volcano, and any attempts to fully repair the buildings were usually in vain. Five metal cages hung from the ceiling of the battle tower about eight feet off the floor, and one of them contained the dim form of a man: Anthony. Two ashen skeletons wielding a cutlass and a blunderbuss stood guard below him.
Clay silently pointed the cage out to Matt, who nodded in response. Matt then indicated a small box sitting directly below Anthony's cage that was locked with a small padlock.
"That must be where the dagger is," Matt whispered. He pressed his pistol into Clay's hands. "Use this to break the lock on Anthony's cage and the lock on the box, but wait until I begin the distraction. I saw a stockpile of powder kegs near the main gate. Once you hear them detonate, use the noise to cover the sounds of your gunshots. We'll meet back at the rowboat." He then crept away into the shadows and vanished from sight.
Clay crawled forwards on his hands and knees as close as he dared to the wooden walls. He pressed his back up against the planks and waited.
"So what's so important about this dagger anyway?" Clay heard one of the skeletons ask the other.
"Flameheart doesn't need the dagger," scoffed the second. "He just wants to make sure no one else can use it. Now that he has the amber brimstone, he is planning a final ritual in four days' time at Fetcher's Rest as the sun sets. Then he can use its power for our conquest of this sea."
"Then what is our plan for the human imprisoned above us?"
"I overheard some of the lieutenants talking about possibly making him a sacrifice to appease the phoenix once it is summoned."
Clay shuddered. A sacrifice? Anthony would no doubt suffer the same fate as that member of the Ancient Terror's Bane unless he could save him.
A minute later, an explosion shook the fortress, and a mushroom of smoke billowed up into the air. The two guards rushed to the edge of the hill and peered out at the scene.
"What was that?" the second skeleton demanded.
"Someone probably handled one of the powder kegs a little too roughly," sneered the first. "Serves him right for mishandling such dangerous materials."
Clay realized with a sinking heart that the skeletons seemed to have no interest in venturing out to investigate the disturbance. He would have to eliminate them himself. Drawing his cutlass quickly from his belt, Clay darted forward and lodged the point of the weapon firmly into the back of the left skeleton's skull. Swinging his arm to the right, he detached the skull from the rest of the body and slammed it into the head of the second skeleton. That skeleton staggered to the side in shock, giving Clay enough time to knock the first skull off the tip of his sword and ram it through the second skeleton's ribcage. The monster was reduced to a pile of bones in an instant.
Once the two creatures had been disposed of, Clay rushed to stand beneath Anthony's cage.
"Anthony!" Clay called up as loud as he dared.
The figure inside stirred, and Anthony's dark blue eyes peered through the bars. "Clay?"
"Yes! Matt and I have come to break you out!"
"Don't worry about me. Just get the dagger and go!" Anthony urged. "More guards could come at any moment."
"I'm not leaving you behind," Clay retorted firmly. He shimmied up the pole that acted as the main support for the ceiling and made a risky leap onto an empty cage. He swung there for a moment or two to regain his balance before leaping onto Anthony's cage. The chains and cages squeaked and rattled horribly, and Clay could only hope no skeletons were in range to hear it.
"The dagger is more important," Anthony was insisting. "I'll just hang around here for a while. Who knows, I could start yelling after you leave and be enough of a nuisance to give you a head start."
"Didn't you hear what they were saying earlier?" Clay demanded as he clung precariously to the outside of Anthony's prison. "They want to sacrifice you to the phoenix!"
"It's quite a way to go, don't you think?" Anthony smirked.
Instead of arguing further, Clay just put the tip of Matt's pistol against the lock and said, "Brace yourself," before pulling the trigger. The lock was blown to pieces which clattered to the ground below. Clay let himself fall to the floor and roll upon impact. As Anthony did the same, the boy jumped back up, turned his attention to the locked box, and broke that lock as well. Lifting the lid, he found the enchanted dagger resting on a bed of slightly charred crimson velvet.
As Clay removed the dagger and secured it in his belt, three skeletons came rushing into the room. "The prisoner is escaping!" one of them screeched. The third skeleton took a shot at them with a blunderbuss, but fortunately, it was standing a bit too far away, so the pellets only gave the two escapees a few burning nicks and scratches. Before that skeleton could reload, Anthony elbowed his way past the other two, wrestled the weapon from the creature's hands, and slammed the butt of the gun into its chest. As the monster reeled back, Anthony used the gun to disintegrate the first skeleton while Clay eliminated the second with his sword. The third skeleton then attempted to escape, but Anthony tackled it and kicked it in the head, sending the skull skittering across the ground.
"Not as stealthy as I would have hoped," Anthony admitted, dusting off his hands. "But one can't be too particular." He disappeared into the back of the room to reclaim his confiscated weapons and tuck them back into his belt. "All right, Clay, where is Matt?"
"He said he would wait for us at our rowboat," Clay replied as he peered anxiously in all directions for more skeletons. "We left it on the other side of the volcano."
"We'd better be quick, then," Anthony advised. "More of those skeletons are sure to come."
Clay was about to follow Anthony out of the room when something caught his eye. In the same corner where Anthony's weapons had been left lay three or four crates with coverings of charred cloth tied with string. Clay crept closer for a better look and spotted a familiar symbol stamped on the lid of each box: the symbol of the Merchant Alliance. These were crates of goods exclusive to the Devil's Roar, including fine ores, extraordinary minerals, precious gemstones, and… volcanic stone.
Without hesitation, Clay ripped open the lid of the crate of volcanic stone and began rifling through the contents.
"What are you doing?" Anthony demanded. "We need to leave!"
"Just a minute," Clay mumbled, dumping the contents of the box on the ground. He frowned. All these stones were mostly rough and black. He then opened the crate of extraordinary minerals. Aha! This crate revealed a cache of glittering stones in all shapes, colors and sizes. Clay began sifting through the contents of the box as Anthony's impatience seemed to quadruple.
"We don't have time to steal anything from them!" he exploded. "We have to go… now!" But Clay wasn't listening. Surely, surely, in one of these boxes there had to be at least one… Finally, he gave a cry of triumph and held something out in his right hand. Anthony leaned closer to inspect it. Sitting in the middle of Clay's palm was a stone with a familiar fiery orange hue: an amber brimstone.