Chapter 5: Emily and the Pirates

Separated from Caelum, Emily now found herself naked and dripping on the deck of a pirate ship, surrounded. The pirates leered shamelessly at her, some licking their lips in anticipation. Terror gripped Emily’s heart, and she worried she might pass out from fear.

But the Stoneshell was warm against her chest, a reminder that she was not entirely defenseless. Quite the contrary, in fact. The pendant’s firepower may have been useless against King Trilato, but now she was on the surface, breathing the salty air, aboard a highly flammable wooden ship.

Her features set with determination, Emily spun her hips around into a sitting position, quickly bringing her knees up to her chest to give the pirates as limited a view of her body as possible. Two of the pirates began to approach her, hands outstretched, practically drooling. She closed her eyes.

Holding her right hand out to her side, Emily ignited a glowing ember in the Stoneshell and directed it to her palm. With a loud whoosh, a great fire erupted from her hand. The pirates cried out in astonishment, taking a collective step back.

Reopening her eyes, Emily smiled as she took in the newly terrified gazes of the pirates. She glanced around at the wooden ship and made the fire in her hand grow larger, keeping it suspended in the air. The pirates exchanged curses.

“Right,” Emily said, letting the word hang in the air for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “As you may have noticed, I just came from the depths of the ocean. Breathing underwater isn’t a problem for me, and neither is the heat of this magical fire. Both of those things, however, are going to present problems for you if you come any closer.”

The pirates’ eyes widened in horror. “Spare us!” cried out a short man with an eyepatch and a knobbly cane.

“Gladly,” said Emily, surprised at the immediate power of her threat. “But I have a few conditions. First off, none of you are going to touch or otherwise harm me. Second, this ship is going to take me where I want to go. And third, you are going to bring me something to wear!”

The pirates huddled together and murmured amongst themselves for a long time, stealing occasional furtive glances at Emily, each of which was met by an increase in the size of her fireball. A few pirates scurried below deck and returned. Emily waited, clasping her knees to her chest tightly with one arm, drying in the heat of the fire.

Finally, a large, stocky man with a red headband and a fuzzy brown beard stepped forward while the other pirates shrunk back. He looked Emily in the eyes, his face free of emotion. “I am First Mate Gideon and I grant these demands on behalf of the crew of the Sea Serpent.” Then, to a couple of pirates just behind him, he said, “You heard the lady, go fetch some clothes!” The pirates scurried below deck, almost tripping over each others’ feet in their hast.

Emily smiled and slightly reduced the size of the flame in her hand. She hadn’t expected the pirates to cave so quickly and had been steeling herself to burn at least a small part of the ship. The whole thing was a little suspicious, and she briefly wondered if she was walking into some kind of trap. Was the first mate just trying to get her to let her guard down? She would have to keep her fire ready.

Perhaps she would be better off diving back down and seeing if Caelum had managed to fight off their pursuers.

The two pirates soon reemerged from the hold carrying a bundle of leather and cloth, which they deposited on the deck a few feet away from where Emily sat, placing it down and hurriedly retreating as though they were leaving steaks out for a tiger.

The appearance of actual clothes made Emily’s mind up. She would stay on the pirate ship for the moment. Whether Caelum had been captured or not, she could be of no use to him at that time—strong swimmer or not, she would soon get lost trying to navigate the ocean herself, and of course, the Stoneshell’s fire was of no use down there.

Emily’s first priority had to be reuniting with Aria and continuing her training in the Stoneshell’s magic, now with Zephyr’s book to aid her. Finally acquiring an adequate and non-enchanted outfit, while not wholly essential to that aim, would make her feel a lot more comfortable in its pursuit.

Clothes! Emily gazed lovingly at the pile in front of her, already imagining how nice the fabric would feel against skin that had been exposed for too long. The pirate stood around her in silence, maintaining a respectful distance, waiting for her to take the clothes.

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Could I get some privacy here? I’m not going to get dressed in front of you all.”

“Certainly,” said the first mate, motioning for the rest of the crew to leave the deck. Once they’d departed, he turned his back to Emily. “Cough when you are done.”

Emily crawled towards the pile of clothes and rifled through it. They were all men’s clothes but in small sizes. She pulled on a pair of brown trousers that came all the way to her ankles, far bigger than the gnome britches she’d been given by the traveling merchant, and secured them around her waist with a ratty old belt.

A billowy white shirt with ruffled sleeves was next. It was enormous and quite shapeless, hanging off Emily like a tent, and most of its buttons were missing. Clucking her tongue with annoyance, she pulled the shirt’s tails together and knotted them firmly. The ensemble left her midriff exposed and framed the Stoneshell with a fair bit of cleavage. But she was decent, and right now that was enough. Perhaps she would ask for another shirt later.

Emily pulled on a pair of socks and brown boots, not dissimilar to the ones she’d had at the start of her journey. In the absence of a mirror, she would have to imagine what she looked like, but she quickly decided that sexy pirate was a look she far preferred to naked fire-witch.

It felt amazing to be clothed once again. Finally, the intimate parts of her body were concealed and with no evil magic at play. Emily spun around with glee, boots thumping against the wooden ship deck. Properly dressed and empowered by the Stoneshell, she felt she could face whatever this strange world might throw at her next. She knelt down and picked up Zephyr’s book, tucking it in the crook of her arm.

First Mate Gideon cleared his throat, and Emily coughed. Before he turned around, she had already summoned a small flame back into her hand, where it flickered around her fingertips. “Thank you, Gideon.”

“At your service, Miss...?”

“Emily,” Emily replied. In lieu of a surname or title, she flared the flame in her hand dramatically.

“Well, Miss Emily, on account of your ... credible threat, we are only too happy to accede to your demands. You have your clothes, and you have my word that no member of my crew shall touch even a single hair on your head on pain of drowning. There remains only the matter of where, exactly, you would like us to take you.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond but then realized that she hadn’t actually thought that far. Of course she wanted to reunite with Aria, but she had no idea where the beach on which they had parted was. Did it have a name? A set of coordinates? Emily found herself missing GPS technology.

Well, she may not have a phone with GPS, but she did have the Stoneshell, as well as Zephyr’s book. The power of the statue curse linked Aria to the Stoneshell, so perhaps it would be possible to locate her through that link. Emily would just need to figure out how.

“Miss?” asked Gideon.

Emily blushed, realizing she’d totally zoned out and not answered Gideon’s question. “Uh, right. Where do I want to go? Well, the thing is ... I kinda still need to figure that out.”

Gideon snorted. “Aye, thou art a woman, of that I have no doubt.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily asked, scowling. The flames on her fingertips grew in size.

Gideon turned pale. “N-nothing, ma’am. Just that it is the prerogative of a lady to ... take her time in making a decision.”

He had a point, Emily had to admit, and the flames receded.

“Perhaps you would prefer to tell your destination to the captain. A meal has been prepared for you in his cabin, and he humbly requests the pleasure of your company.”

Emily’s stomach growled. Between her conversation with Zephyr and her disastrous audience with King Trilato, she had not had time to sample any of the Coral Gala’s banquet. Adrenaline and fear had kept her from thinking about food, but now that Gideon had mentioned it she felt famished. Joining a pirate captain in his cabin was something to be wary of, but between her fire magic and wonderful new outfit, Emily felt invincible.

“Sounds good, I’m starved!”

“Right this way then.” Gideon led Emily across the deck towards the stern of the ship, the deck wobbling and creaking beneath their feet. Fortunately, Emily had never been greatly affected by seasickness.

A few pirates glanced warily at her as she passed, but were quick to avert their gazes if she looked at them. They descended a narrow staircase, the wooden steps groaning under their weight, and navigated through a dimly lit corridor lined with doors.

Finally, they stopped in front of a sturdy oak door, reinforced with iron bands. Gideon knocked firmly.

“Enter,” came a voice from within.

Gideon opened the door and gestured for Emily to go ahead. “Captain Richard will see you now,” he said.

Heart pounding, flames flickering on the ends of her fingers, Emily stepped into the cabin, her face set in a resolute expression. She found herself face to face with the pirate captain, who raised an intrigued eyebrow at the sight of her fiery hand.

“A sea spirit who commands the power of fire,” he said. His tone was haughty, consciously more refined than the rough speech of the other pirates. “A mermaid on two legs. What wonders the ocean shows us.”

The captain bowed deeply, his watery blue eyes fixed on Emily’s. “Captain Richard Stoneheart at your service, Miss Emily,” he said, before straightening up and pulling out a chair at the table behind him. “Please, take a seat.”

Richard was a ruggedly handsome man with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His deep-set eyes seemed to hold all the depths of the oceans within them. His face was rough and scarred, weathered like those of the other pirates, but he held himself with a bearing that spoke of thoughtfulness and breeding. He wore a weathered captain’s coat and a pair of worn leather gloves.

Emily took the seat offered her, allowing the flames in her hand to go out and placing Zephyr’s book on her lap.

Richard sat down opposite her. “I am sorry we could not provide any better clothes than those. They are hardly fit for a lady of such great beauty.” His eyes flicked briefly across Emily’s seated form, undoubtedly savoring the loose fit of her shirt and the copious skin it exposed.

“They’re quite wonderful,” Emily replied, taking a moment to savor the almost novel feeling of fabric against her skin. “Though a shirt with a few more buttons would be welcome.”

“I will have the crew see to it,” Richard said, smiling and meeting Emily’s eyes once more. “Though buttons are hard to come by on the open sea.” He had taken off the captain’s coat to sit, and his own tattered white shirt appeared to be missing a few buttons near the top, where the side hung slightly open, showing a scarred and hairy chest. While not as muscular as Caelum, Richard was clearly a man of action.

So here was her pirate captain, just like in the book she’d been reading before this all started. She didn’t trust him, of course, but it was nice to meet a man who hadn’t already seen her naked. And if he pressed his luck, well, she had a fireball with his name on it.

The meal on the table was a simple affair, consisting of ship’s biscuits, salted meat, and a type of fish that Emily didn’t recognize. It had probably been caught in the same net she had, she mused. Richard poured out two glasses from a bottle of red wine, which glowed faintly in the cabin’s dim light.

Stomach still growling, Emily wolfed the food down quite indiscriminately. The biscuits were a little stale and the meat quite hard and chewy, but the fish was delicious. To her surprise, she also greatly enjoyed the rich and full flavor of the wine, though she was usually more partial to white. Across the table, Richard ate slowly, using a knife in his gloved hands.

“My crew tells me that you seek passage with us,” Richard said. “We are happy to grant this request and would have been so even without your threat of burning the Sea Serpent. It will be my greatest pleasure to see you safely to your destination.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed and she adopted a skeptical expression. “That wasn’t my impression from the way your crew looked at me.”

“Please forgive them. They have been at sea for a long time, far from their wives and sweethearts. After such prolonged deprivation, the mere sight of a lady can make a man mad. Especially one so beautiful as you, in all her natural splendor.”

Emily blushed momentarily but quickly returned her face to a hard expression. “Then you will have to forgive me for keeping my fire handy. A gal’s gotta have her defenses against men who might lose their minds in her presence.”

Richard laughed and took another sip of wine. “Of course, of course. But please rest assured that no man on this ship would be permitted to indulge his madness against a lady’s wishes. I will not allow it.”

Emily raised an eyebrow, not quite believing him. She glanced at her nails, allowing a tiny flame to flicker across them.

“But let us come to the point,” Richard said, waving a gloved hand as if to dismiss the previous subject of their conversation. “Where is it that you seek passage to?”

Emily pondered her response for a moment, biting her lip. “A beach. One not too far from here ... I think. It’s a few days’ walk from ... House Odonata. My traveling companion will be waiting for me there.”

“There are many beaches on the shores of Thessolan,” said Richard, raising an eyebrow. “And I’m afraid I have never heard of this House Odonata you speak of. Is there a port nearby this beach?”

“I ... I’m not sure.”

“Then we have arrived at a difficulty. My crew and I will gladly escort you to the port of your choice, but we must know which port it is, or we cannot help you.”

Emily thought of the book in her lap and of Aria’s link to the Stoneshell. “I have a way of locating the beach,” she bluffed. “Through magic.”

Richard’s eyebrow raised higher still. “Ah yes, you are a mage. Well then, cast the spell, and we shall follow where it leads.”

Emily’s throat felt dry, so she took another sip of wine. “Right. Yes. I’ll do that. I just ... need some time to prepare.”

“Of course, naturally. My crew and I will be happy to aid you with preparations to the best of our ability, though I must warn you that the Sea Serpent is not well stocked with alchemical ingredients.”

“That should be fine. I don’t think I’ll need anything like that. Just some time to prepare.”

Richard took another sip of his wine, regarding Emily with a curious gaze. As he put his glass down, he said, “That is an interesting piece. Your necklace. I have rarely seen jewelry made of stone.”

“It was a gift from a friend,” Emily replied, experience having made her wary of saying too much about the Stoneshell to anyone she didn’t fully trust. “My traveling companion, actually. She’s a ... talented sculptor.”

“I can see that,” Richard said, now leaning forward slightly to examine the Stoneshell. “A beautiful piece. It must be very special to you.”

“Oh it is,” Emily gushed. She was feeling lightheaded—the wine was beginning to affect her. Better not have any more, she thought.

Richard stood up from the table abruptly. “Come, let us retire to the parlor,” he said, gesturing at a couch on the other end of the cabin. “I will play for you.”

Emily took Richard’s proffered hand, the leather of his glove cold to the touch. He led her across the room, where she sank into the brown leather couch, surrounded by overstuffed cushions. It was very comfortable, and the wine had made her a little sleepy.

Richard then turned to a corner of the room where a violin rested on an aged stand. The instrument was polished to a shine, its wood glowing warmly in the lantern light. He lifted it reverently and turned to face Emily once more.

As he positioned the violin under his chin and drew the bow across the strings, the first notes floated through the air, ethereal and haunting. The melody was melancholic but quite beautiful. Emily found herself drawn into the music and allowed herself to sink deeper into the couch as she listened. Everything around her seemed to fade away as the violin’s song filled the space. There was a powerful sadness in the music, which contrasted starkly with Richard’s unmoving, unreadable expression.

The piece slowed and finally came to a halt, with Richard grinding out the last few notes and then standing immobile for a moment, frozen in the act of playing. Then he lowered the violin, looked Emily in the eyes, and bowed. Emily smiled and clapped. “Bravo, bravo!”

The violin was placed back on its stand, and all at once Richard was sitting on the couch next to Emily, staring into her eyes. She could smell the wine on his breath and felt a weight resting on her knee.

“Richard...” she began, fighting the drowsiness of the wine and the dim cabin lights, and the oh-so-comfortable couch.

“Emily,” he replied, still holding her gaze. It was the first time he’d used her name. “I want to show you something,” he said, removing his hand from her knee before she could do it for him.

Richard set his lips in a hard line and screwed up his eyes, gazing intently at a spot just below Emily’s eye level. His left hand reached out to the side and he made a grasping motion with fingers, seeming to pluck something out of the empty air.

“W-what are you doing?” Emily asked.

He had pulled slightly away from her and seemed to be looking not at her, but past her. Then he drew his hand back, and Emily felt a sudden jolt against the back of her neck. Before her eyes, the Stoneshell pendant was floating, suspended in midair.

Richard drew his grasping hand in front of himself and the Stoneshell moved in unison. He grinned toothily at Emily, waggling his eyebrows.

“W-what is this? What are you doing?” Emily stammered.

“Sea spirits are not the only beings with a command of magic, darling,” Richard said, his eyes twinkling. From a gentle twist of his fingers, the Stoneshell spun around a few times, braiding the ends of the chain together.

“Stop that!” Emily cried. The Stoneshell began to glow orange, tendrils of smoke rising from its surface.

Richard’s eyes widened. “What’s this? I’m not making it do that!”

“I am,” said Emily. “And I’ll do much worse if you don’t stop this at once.”

“Quick with the threats, aren’t we?” Richard twisted his fingers more forcefully, causing the Stoneshell to spin around a few more times. The chain tightened to the point where it pressed into Emily’s neck.

Fire exploded from the shell as Emily swatted Richard’s hand away. Flame touched the leather glove and Richard cried out in surprise as it ignited. He leaped from the couch, frantically waving his hand in the air and then blowing on it.

Emily felt a little bad watching the spectacle. Perhaps she had overreacted. Sure, Richard was being a little creepy, but all he’d really tried to do was impress her with a magic trick. How was he to know she would take such great offense to him moving the Stoneshell around?

The fire had now been reduced to a cloud of smoke and the smell of burning leather. Richard didn’t appear to be in any pain, so Emily reasoned that the glove had taken most of the impact. Without that, she might have severely burned his hand. “Are you alright?” she asked, biting her lip.

Richard scowled at her and she made an apologetic expression. Her gaze traveled from his face to the charred remains of his glove, which were clinging loosely to—

Emily gasped. “Your hand!”

Blackened, smoking strips of leather fell away to reveal a rough gray surface which instantly brought to mind Aria and the other statues of Castle Elid. Captain Richard’s left hand was made of stone.

He sighed. “I suppose my secret’s out. No point trying to hide it anymore.” With this, he removed the intact glove from his right hand and rolled up both sleeves to the elbow, then held both arms out for Emily to examine.

Each hand was a granite statue in the likeness of a human hand, finely carved but maintaining the natural coarseness of the material. There was a slight mechanical nature to the way Richard moved his fingers, and as he waggled them for Emily, she noted the same look of concentration that she’d seen when he moved the Stoneshell. In retrospect, his violin-playing seemed even more impressive. Each hand terminated in a thick cuff below which Richard’s arms appeared normal.

“What happened to you?” Emily asked. She wondered if the way his hands had been turned to stone was in any way similar or applicable to how Aria had been turned to stone. Could he be of use in her quest to restore Aria to flesh?

Richard sat back down on the couch, looking tired, regarding Emily with an unreadable gaze. “You are not disgusted?”

“Some of my best friends are made of stone,” Emily replied, smiling gently.

Richard’s eyes flashed for the briefest moment before resuming their inscrutable expression. “I was born without hands,” he said, regarding his stony fingers. “I grew up in a workhouse, abandoned by my parents without ever knowing them. The other children mocked me. I was constantly berated for being slow and clumsy in my work, deprived of rations, and given the worst of everything.”

Emily could feel the bitterness in his words and it made her shudder.

“Anger at my treatment fueled me. It made me strong, cunning, resourceful. Over time, I learned to use my stumps, to overcome my limitations, to bend the world to my will.” Here, the fingers of Richard’s right hand clenched into a fist. “I transformed from an object of ridicule into something to be feared, once they learned that a stump could punch just as hard as a fist. The mockery stopped, was replaced with cold silences when I would enter a room.”

Richard stood up from the couch and began to pace across the room. “The masters of the workhouse noticed my effect on the other children. They called me cruel and arrogant. I suppose they were right. To punish me, they gave me harder, more solitary jobs, culminating in a week’s hard labor breaking rocks in the quarry.”

Richard’s eyes locked on Emily’s. “I could not have asked for a greater gift.” He curled and uncurled his fingers, and a small, smooth stone jumped from one of his coat pockets and hung suspended above his outstretched palm.

“Oh, it was difficult at first! The other boys were twice my size, and there I was, trying to swing a pickaxe between my two stumps. It was hopeless, really. After dark on the first day, I stood before the same rock I’d been trying to split all day, worn out and bruised. And I stared at it with such hateful intensity that it just ... broke.”

The stone hovering in the air exploded into shrapnel, and Emily ducked reflexively, burying her head in the couch.

Richard laughed. “Do not worry, Emily, I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Emily tentatively raised her head. Small shards of stone hung suspended in the air, one mere inches from her face. Richard closed his hand, and they flew together again, reforming the smooth, round stone.

“I immediately repeated the feat with another rock. And another. Until I was absolutely certain that I could break through solid stone with the power of my mind. It took a few days before I discovered that I could move it as well, even reshape it.”

The round stone floating in the air between them reformed into a cube, and then a pyramid, and then a many-pointed star. Emily gazed upon it in wonder, her own training with the Stoneshell’s fire powers in the back of her mind.

“Once I was confident in my abilities, I left the workhouse. They gave chase, of course, but with a flick of my fingers, the road rose up to meet them.” The many-pointed star flattened out into a thin slab before twisting and roiling like a wave, and Richard grinned devilishly. He had been slowly edging back towards the couch throughout his story, and now took a seat once more, staring intently into Emily’s eyes.

“You understand,” said Richard softly. “I can see it in your eyes. And of course you would! You are a mistress of fire, I a master of stone. We have been set aside by fate for special purposes, great and terrible destinies.”

Emily felt the touch of cold stone on her fingers.

“We are two of a kind, you and I.” Richard’s fingers coiled around Emily’s, firm and rigid, and she felt his other hand against her side. “Conduits for the elements, brought together by fate.”

Before she quite knew what was happening, Richard’s lips were pressed against hers, and then his whole body was on top of her. He smelled of rum and burned leather. Emily went stiff with panic, eyes wide and staring.

Richard seemed not to notice—he held her firm in his arms. She felt the Stoneshell move against her chest and watched in horror as it began to change shape. As it flattened out, five tendrils of stone emerged from it, forming the shape of a hand. A pained scream echoed across Emily’s mind—the Stoneshell was in pain.

Then the hand stumbled forward, its stony fingers stabbing at her upper chest, moving lower, then prodding the softer flesh of her breasts. Richard grunted with pleasure. The tiny hand moved lower until its fingers were on the knot that tied the two bottom corners of her buttonless shirt together. With surprising dexterity and speed, it undid the knot.

That was enough. As if waking from a dream, Emily turned from rigid shock to squirming, trashing terror. “Get off!” she screamed, tearing her face from Richard’s and pushing against his chest. The Stoneshell glowed orange, still responsive to her thoughts in its altered state, and a ball of fire exploded between her and Richard for the second time that evening.

All at once, the weight was off her. Richard screamed in pain and stumbled backward, then tripped and rolled across the floor. At once, Emily was off the couch, on her feet, eyes flashing with anger. Her open shirt billowed around her, but she barely noticed. Plumes of flame hovered above both of her outstretched palms and she readied herself to strike.

“I wouldn’t do that!” Richard growled, scrambling to his feet. Smoke rose from his coat and beard, but he appeared mostly unharmed. “You’ll burn this whole ship up!”

“So what?!” Emily spat. “I don’t need your ship, you creep!”

“You may not, but your friend does.” Richard chuckled darkly, meeting Emily’s furious gaze with a smug look.

Emily’s anger was softened by confusion. “My friend?”

“Stone lady,” Richard continued. “Met her on a beach, not too far from here. She told us she was waiting there for her friend, a girl who had gone to visit the merfolk. Fiesty one, she was. There was a brief struggle. But she was made of stone. Fatal weakness.”

Emily felt sick to her stomach. “What did you do to her?!”

“She’s an honored and cherished guest aboard the Sea Serpent, just like yourself. Though we had to take precautions—can’t have her killing my men, now can I? No matter how much they’ll pay for a specimen like her in Altwern.”

“P-pay?!”

“Yes, pay. I was thinking of giving you a share, before that little outburst.”

The flames in Emily’s hands grew, filling the cabin with light. “You bastard!”

Richard cocked an eyebrow. “We are pirates, love. And again, I’ll warn you to be careful with that fire of yours. The wooden frame of this ship is all that stands between your friend and an eternity at the bottom of the ocean. I know a thing or two about stone and I can assure you—it doesn’t float.”

The fire in Emily’s hands went out and her arms slumped uselessly at her sides. The stone slab, which had been sitting on the dinner table, lifted up and flew towards her, hitting her in the wrist and knocking it back. Emily cried out at the sharp pain.

Another stone slab zoomed out of a set of shelving and hit her other wrist. Then both slabs began to reshape, encircling her wrists and moving them towards each other. The slabs connected, firmly pinning her hands behind her back.