Dragonfruit, page 21
The crabs made it possible to see the horribleness laid out before them. A massive cavern. A great pool of water. A dry, sandy ledge. On the ledge was the blue seadragon, dying. A harpoon jutted inches from his heart, just as Moa had described. Most of the dragon’s scales had fallen off, exposing patches of gray flesh that rose and fell quickly in a pant. The remaining dragonfruit were no longer in his pouch, but he had kept them close, his body curled around them. Both eggs appeared unharmed, the rose-colored shells intact. The seadragon’s eyes were half-open and turned to the ship that was anchored in the water, invitingly close. Captain Bragadin’s Compass Rose, formerly the Anemone. Its side hatch had been left open. Through it came a child’s voice, wobbly, scared. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Sam raised a finger to his lips, then looked across the cavern, where, slightly ahead of them and watching from behind a boulder, Captain Bragadin was. His back was to them, but there was no mistaking the way he stood, or the way he held his head.
Hanalei leaned in to hear Sam’s quietly spoken instructions. “The dragon could still be dangerous. I can’t risk him going for the ship. I’ll head there with the darts. Catamara, you come with me. You too,” he said to Moa. “Liko, Bayani, go back for the boats. We need to get the children out of there.”
Bayani hesitated, sending a venomous look in the captain’s direction.
Understanding, Sam said, “The little ones first, Bayani.”
Bayani nodded. He hustled after Liko, who had not waited around.
“What about him?” Moa asked, meaning the captain.
Catamara looked at Hanalei, whose skin suddenly itched. Her marking had begun to move again. Up one leg and down the other, winding slowly around her chest. When she held up an arm, she caught a glimpse of dragonscale. The ink rich and black, the detail fine.
Hanalei’s voice shook slightly. “I’ll take care of Captain Bragadin.”
Now Sam and Moa were staring at her.
“How?” Sam wanted to know.
“With what?” Moa scoffed.
Catamara smiled.
Hanalei’s marking flashed across her face. She felt it, like wind whipping past. Moa’s eyes bulged. He nearly fell over, and Catamara’s hand shot upward, covering his frightened yelp.
Sam opened his mouth, shut it. He came closer, shocked, but at least he knew what a marking was. “Hanalei . . .” He took her hands in his, gently, and together they watched scales coil around her arms, from wrist to elbow to shoulder. “That is no firefly.”
Laughter bubbled inside of her, threatening to spill over.
“Does it hurt?” Sam asked.
Hanalei turned her arms over. “No. It itches.”
“Hello?” A small voice called out again, from the ship. “Is anyone there?”
“Come,” Catamara ordered. “Rescue now. Love later.”
Sam leaned over and kissed Hanalei. Her marking froze in perfect astonishment, somewhere around her ankle. “Be careful,” Sam told her. And then he was gone, dragging a still-gaping Moa away, his neck craned to look back at her. Catamara paused long enough to say, “Trust your marking, Lady. She will help you.”
She?
Hanalei allowed herself a moment to touch her fingers to her lips, before she kicked off her sandals and removed Sam’s cloak. She sat on the ledge, feet dangling over the side, then slipped beneath the water completely. Her marking was no longer just a marking. She felt it leave her skin. A seadragon swam directly beneath her, her scales as real as the dragons Hanalei had spent a lifetime around. Its frill brushed against her face; she held on tight to it as they dove deeper. When Hanalei resurfaced, dripping wet, it was onto the ledge behind Captain Bragadin.
Who had been busy. In the short time it had taken Hanalei to swim across the cavern, he had rolled out a small catapult. It looked like the weapon once bolted to the very top of his ship. Before she could take a step, Bragadin released the lever. A single cannon shot forth, striking the hull. Wood splintered and childish shrieks erupted. The ship listed sharply.
“Get up, you stupid lizard,” Captain Bragadin muttered, his back to her. “Move. I did all the work. All you have to do is eat.”
The ship listed even more, and the cries from within grew louder. Hanalei looked behind her. There was no sign of Liko and Bayani. Across the way, Sam’s head was barely visible above some rocks. And Hanalei knew with a terrible certainty that the canoes wouldn’t arrive in time, not before the hull sunk beneath the surface.
Sam knew it too. He ran from his hiding place and dove into the water. When Moa followed, there was a startled oath from Captain Bragadin. He stumbled to the water’s edge, hurling vile curses across the way. The blue dragon lifted his head slightly, but that was all. He had no interest in a ship full of children. Or in anything except protecting his eggs.
“Captain,” Hanalei said.
The curses stopped. Very slowly, Captain Bragadin looked over his shoulder. When he faced her completely, Hanalei fell back a step, for he painted a grisly picture. His head was wrapped in bandaging, over eye and lip and chin, where Hanalei had cut him with the dragonscale. Blood seeped through the cloth. He looked at her, soaking wet, then looked behind her. “You’re a brave one. Not even a dagger to protect yourself?”
The queen’s dagger was strapped to her arm. Hanalei pulled it free. “Do I need a dagger?”
“You have some nerve,” he marveled. “Between the two of us, who has been more wronged? Come closer, Hanalei. Come see what you did to my face.”
He wouldn’t make her feel guilty for defending herself. “You frightened me, back on the ship. I wouldn’t have hurt you otherwise.”
“Touching. And yet my eye is still gone. Where is Vaea?”
“Also gone.” Hanalei lied just to watch him flinch. She had learned a lesson or two from him about cruelty.
“How?” he demanded.
Hanalei had a clear view of the water behind him. Sam had reached the ship, which had turned almost completely on its side. He slid along the hull—too fast!—before catching himself at the hatch opening. He disappeared within.
“I said how?”
Hanalei pictured Vaea lying prone from a spider bite. She would be fine in a matter of hours. Imprisoned but fine. Which was more than could be said for Fetu. Thinking of him brought on a fresh wave of fury. “Your navigator was bitten by the queen’s own spider. Then eaten, slowly. Digested, slowly. She’s still being digested, I imagine.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am not. Prince Samahti was fond of his bat. You’re not the only one who can be vindictive.”
Captain Bragadin’s face had lost all expression. “I should have killed you years ago, when you first showed your face.”
“Your mistake.”
A familiar, hateful smile appeared. “And yours is standing here all alone, without your prince to save you.”
Hanalei looked at him, really looked, and was no longer afraid. “We’re the ones you preferred, weren’t we? The ones who had no one—”
The captain was standing by the miniature catapult. He wrenched it toward her and hit the lever. At the same time, Hanalei felt herself knocked to the ground by something heavy and wet. She did not see the cannonball, but she felt the heat of it overhead, heard the harmless splash in the water. She rolled away as her seadragon rose up behind her. She was a beautiful animal, with scales the palest pink, jaws wide open.
Captain Bragadin’s mouth opened. His scream never came. The dragon swooped down, and he was no more. And Hanalei learned an important truth about her new marking. She did not like to swallow her food whole. She preferred to take her time, and chew first.
31
“GOOD GIRL.”
Shaken, Hanalei reached up and patted her seadragon on the nose, a nose as rough as coconut husk. Her eyes were brown, with long sweeping lashes, and her frill was the soft white of a plumeria blossom. Two dimples appeared, to Hanalei’s delight, before she remembered where they were and why.
Rescue now. Love later.
“Come on. We have to help.”
Hanalei climbed onto her dragon’s back. She could hear the canoes approaching, the slap of oars against the water’s surface. Liko and Bayani no longer bothered with stealth. They would be here soon. Across the way, Catamara leaned against the blue seadragon, stroking his skin where the scales had fallen off. The animal did not seem to care that Catamara was so close to his precious dragonfruit; his chin rested on the sand and his eyes were indifferent slits.
Of Sam and Moa, she saw nothing. She guided her dragon around to the ship’s hatch. “Sam!” she yelled, then jerked back when a small boy appeared in the opening, handed up by Sam, who said, “Take him.”
Hanalei took the crying boy and looked around for Liko and Bayani, whose canoes had stopped at the cavern opening. Their mouths hung open. Hanalei beckoned them over, calling out, “She won’t hurt you!” and found she had to repeat her words for the poor boy’s sake. His cries were now accompanied by terrified hiccups. She passed him down to Liko.
When Hanalei peered down into the hull, she saw dozens of children in water up to their knees and shoulders, depending on how tall they were. The older ones carried the younger ones in their arms and around their necks. A little girl sat on Moa’s shoulders. Another on Sam’s. He passed her up to Hanalei, saying, “The chief said there were thirty altogether. Make sure we have thirty.”
“I’ll make sure.”
Bayani crawled onto her dragon, on his hands and knees at first. The ship listed again. After that, there was no time to think about anything but the children. Sam lifted a child to Hanalei, who gave the child to Bayani, who leaned down from the seadragon, swinging the child into Liko’s arms. Hanalei counted as they passed from her arms to the safety of the boats. Three, four, five, six . . . eighteen, nineteen, and so on. When both canoes were full, she settled them onto the back of the dragon, murmuring assurances the whole way. “This is a nice seadragon. My marking. She won’t hurt you. I promise.”
A dripping wet Moa climbed out after the last little girl. Sam hung on to the opening with both hands. By then, the ship had tilted so far to one side that behind him was a long drop to the other side of the hull.
Hanalei grabbed his arms and pulled.
Sam didn’t budge. “How many?” he asked. “Count them.”
Hanalei looked over her shoulder. Ten in the first canoe. Eleven in the second. Eight on the dragon. That wasn’t right. “Twenty-nine. Wait. I’ll count again.”
“I have twenty-nine,” Moa said grimly.
“Twenty-nine,” Liko called out.
“Lady.” Bayani knelt beside her. “There’s only twenty-nine.”
Hanalei tightened her hold on Sam’s arms. His neck was craned. He was searching behind him, into the black. When he looked up at her, she knew what he was going to say before he said it.
“Let go, Hana.”
She could not argue. Hanalei did as he wished with her heart in her throat. Sam slapped something into her hand. “She’s wet. She’ll be mad,” he warned. And then he fell, his eyes on hers until the darkness engulfed him. It was a long time before she heard a splash.
Hanalei swung one leg into the hatch. “I’m going to help—”
“Hey.” Moa held fast to her arm. “We don’t know your dragon. You need to stay here. And look. What’s that old man doing?”
On the ledge, the blue seadragon appeared almost as if in a trance. His tail slapped gently against the sand. Catamara, who had not moved, moved now. His hand waved behind his back, urgently. Go. Go at once, his hand told them.
Hanalei yanked her arm free of Moa. She said to the guards, “Take the boats and come back.”
“What about them?” Moa said, meaning the children on her dragon. They were wet and cold and scared.
“When Liko and Bayani return, they’ll go.”
“Hanalei,” Moa said. “Whatever that old man is doing, it might not last. We have to go.”
Hanalei felt herself crumpling in front of twenty-nine frightened children. She hated how reasonable Moa sounded. “I’m not leaving him.” There was no sound coming from the hull, and no way to see. In her hand was the pouch he had given her. He had given her Viti.
“I’ll stay.” Moa elbowed her aside. He straddled the side hatch opening, holding on to the edges so he did not fall in. “I’ll watch for your prince. You go.”
“Moa—”
“Go.”
He had said the same thing to her back on the Anemone, when he had not stopped her escape. Moa had done bad things. But not always. She had to hold on to that. Hanalei took her seadragon and left.
Trust your marking, Catamara had said. She will help you. Her seadragon moved slowly, and with care, so her young riders did not tumble. The light from the ghost crabs gradually faded away.
“It’s very dark,” a little voice said.
“It is, isn’t it?” Hanalei said. “Liko, are you near?”
“Here, Lady.” A light appeared to Hanalei’s left, a solitary firefly that multiplied. Before they knew it, hundreds of bright twinkling fireflies came to life. A welcome distraction. Hanalei took the pouch from her belt. She’s wet. She’ll be mad. Hanalei had braced herself, so that when Viti sprang out, fangs bared, she did not scream. The little spider jumped onto her shoulder. “Sorry, Viti,” she murmured. Viti’s response was a tiny prick on her neck. Not painful, just uncomfortable enough to make a point, before the spider settled down.
Hanalei looked over at Liko. Thank you, she mouthed.
Smiling slightly, Liko stuck her oar in the water, guiding them out of the cave and into the night.
The stars were out, which made it easy to see the crowd at the shore. Hanalei kept her seadragon out of range of any spears or harpoons until Liko and Bayani were able to explain that she was no threat.
A girl, about ten, had buried her face in the dragon’s frill. She raised her head and said to Hanalei, “Is she really your marking?”
“She is.”
“Does she have a name?”
“Not yet. She’s very, very new.”
The girl looked wistful. “I’ve always wanted my own seadragon.”
And Hanalei, worried as she was for Sam, had to smile. “Me too.”
Only when Liko waved did Hanalei bring her dragon in with the last of the children. She handed them down to those who had waded into the shallows. Mothers and fathers, village elders. Rosamie and William. Later, she would remember that Jejomar had not been among them. She gave the last little girl over to Chief Umere.
“One’s missing,” she told him quietly. “Prince Samahti is still looking. I’m going back.”
The long night had taken its toll on the weary chief. “My grandson, Tane. He isn’t here.”
“We’ll find him.” As she turned her dragon around, Chief Umere said, “Go safely, child.”
The blue seadragon had breathed his last. When Hanalei entered the cavern, the first thing she saw was a frill, limp and black. Catamara had grabbed a fistful in both hands. His head was bowed. Another prayer, another dragon lost.
Her sorrow was tempered by the sight of Sam, who leaned against a wall beside Moa, over by the tail. With them was a boy, about twelve. The chief’s grandson. He was safe, but his safety had come at a price. Both dragonfruit had hatched. The only sign of the young seadragons was a slimy trail that led from the broken eggshells to the water.
Hanalei guided her marking past Captain Bragadin’s ship. Only a small portion of the hull remained above the surface. The dragon stopped at the water’s edge. Her body lay parallel to the dead seadragon; she turned her head to watch him, making no sound beyond a lone, distressed call. Hanalei stroked her frill and murmured comforting words. She jumped down onto the ledge, where Sam was waiting for her.
“You’re not hurt?” He buried his face in her hair. Sam smelled of salt and seaweed, just as she did. “Catamara said Bragadin fired a cannon at you—”
“He missed. I’m not hurt. Are you?”
“I’m fine.” Sam stepped back. They inspected one another to make sure. “Tane hit his head and fell into the water. Lucky for him, he fell face up.” He looked at her marking and smiled. “I’ve never seen such a beautiful dragon.” At that, her marking’s ears perked up, standing tall over her frill.
Sam wasn’t fine. She could see it on his face, behind the smiles and flattery. Fetu was lost. The eggs were gone. He was very close to cracking. “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
Sam looked away. “They’d already hatched when we climbed out of the hull. There was no sign of them.” He stepped away from her. “We have to get back. They’ll be worried.”
He called Tane over. There was a lump on his forehead, and he was as tired and damp as everyone else. The boy eyed the pink seadragon, and said, “With respect, Lady, I think I’ll wait for a canoe.” It took some coaxing, but they managed to get him on the seadragon. Moa joined them, subdued. But Catamara would not come.
“I will stay,” the animal keeper said. “Send someone tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow, Cata,” Sam said.
Catamara waved them off. “Later.”
Nothing Sam said would change his mind. They left Catamara there, and the journey back to the shore was completed in near total silence. Hanalei handed Viti to Sam. He returned the pouch to his belt. A smaller crowd greeted them. Most had taken their children home to bed, but Tane’s family had waited anxiously. His parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Their reunion lifted Hanalei’s spirits. Sam and Moa had gone off to speak, leaving Hanalei in the shallows with her seadragon.
Hanalei slid off her back, then went around and kissed her on the nose. “Thank you, my dear.” A long, wet tongue flopped out and licked her. The seadragon vanished, reappearing as a marking on Hanalei’s hand. Hanalei waded out in time to hear Sam tell Moa, “Go, before I change my mind.” Sam went to speak to the chief.
Moa waited for Hanalei. “You didn’t tell them, that I was the one who sunk Prince Augustus’s ship.”
