Pirates of the Caribbean:The Spanish Prisoner (Book 2 King's Messenger Series)

Edge of Survival

A dark, silent abyss below. A heraldic device above my head. Something you'd find on a coat-of-arms. What did they call it?

A dexter arm embowed, with hand grasping a sword proper. Yes, that was it.

The hand opened and the sword fell slowly past me, tumbling end over end, golden sparks of light dancing along the blade, all fading to black.

A thing of beauty, gone forever.

I slept.

..................

My throat seized up, snapping me awake with a violent urge to cough. I couldn't breathe through my nose and my stomach heaved, wanting to be rid of everything I'd ever eaten. Under my back was a flat, sandy surface instead of a nice warm berth.

A hand pushed me roughly onto my side, and my nose was released. Sopping wet, I doubled over, choking out sea water which burned every inch of the way from my stomach to my mouth. Someone was holding me by one shoulder and rubbing my back.

Hector.

"Easy, lass," he said. "Tis over now."

My head, like every other inch of my body, throbbed. Had we been in a shipwreck? Groggy, I sat up and looked about, eyes watering, nose dripping, and throat so raw I couldn't speak. Everything was a jumble, flashes of events that I couldn't piece together.

"I pulled ye out when the waves swallered ye," he said. "An' now we've been spat up by the sea...somewhere." He produced a flask from his pocket and offered it to me.

I cleared my throat very gingerly and took a small sip. "Why don't I remember?" I managed to croak.

"'Tis often the case when ye nearly drown." He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Take a few more swigs. Ye'll find ye remember more, presently."

I staggered to my feet. Hector rose at the same time and caught my elbow, steadying me as I drank. But something about my clothes wasn't right---I was wearing a saidi dress. There had been a dinner and...Ponce de Leon. Then I recalled music. "I was dancing..." I looked at Hector.

"Aye." It was too dark to see his expression, but his manner was terse.

Another memory stirred. We were in a small boat, and the wind was roaring, making huge waves. I had feared I wouldn't live. "You said there was a storm."

He bowed his head for a moment and sighed. "The Sword called the winds."

A picture flashed through my mind. A sword. The Sword that could call the winds. Was that also the sword in my dream? The treasure Hector had dreamed of possessing, that we had captured from Ponce de Leon.

I stole several looks at him, even casting a quick glance at the ground, but there was no sign of any Sword.

"If it can call the winds," he said wearily, "Then it stands t' reason..."

I pressed my hand against my forehead. "Please. I'm so confused. You had the Sword, didn't you? Where is it now?"

He tightened his mouth and gave a brief shrug. "Lost in the storm. Once the sea took it, the winds dropped down."

For a moment, the meaning of his words eluded me, but then he offered his hand. I suppressed a gasp. It was Hector whose hand I'd seen, not in a dream but in some final delirium. But he would never have intentionally thrown away such a treasure --- surely not for my sake. That part must have been my fevered imagination. No, he must have lost his grip on it whilst pulling me from the sea.

I could have wept, thinking how he must resent me. "I've cost you your prize. Oh, Hector..."

"Ye cost me nothin'," he said fiercely. Tipping my chin up, he locked eyes with me. "Me prize be standin' before me. I had the choice o' two treasures an' took the one I wanted." He took my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze. "Don't ye ever doubt it."