1001 Islands

By K.T. Munson

The sliver of moonlight cast eerie shadows across the deck of The Dark Revenge. The Silence at the helm stood embracing the obscurity. His foreboding presence matched the anticipation aboard the ship, and no one spoke for fear they would break the stillness that encompassed them.

Tonight, everything changed.

The Dark Revenge gained on the Regatta. The raiders said nothing but he could hear the shuffle of taut female clothing and the tension in the air. It hadn’t sensed their existence, and drifted like heedless prey. Princess Roxana slept, unsuspecting of what was hunting her in the inky blackness of the night.

There was only one thing on the minds of The Silence’s crew as they drew near; Hang the Kings, Crown the People.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.T. Munson
• Release date: Aug 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310884030

K.T. Munson

K.T. Munson is an author. First published at five years old in the young writers conference, she has pursued writing ever since. She was born and raised in the last frontier, the great state of Alaska. She maintains a blog creatingworldswithwords.wordpress.com that is about writing and her novels.

Book preview

Prologue

Nabisc

The firelight of a thousand souls burned like stars across the island’s gut. As the raft drifted up the last of the swampy channel, a young girl looked into the water’s dark whisper. She could hear its fingers reaching up to the raft’s side, trying to claw its way up or drag her down. Its song was as deadly as the lone resident of the little swampy isle.

There, through the trees and the plants with fan-sized leaves, was the well-kept house. She felt herself swallow and pull back, but her mother had a firm hold on her arm. Her mother glanced down in a disregarding manner as she pulled back, but did little else. The little girl could feel the way the swamp seemed to know she was there. The hairs on her arms rose as though her body was warning her.

Her fear-filled eyes turned to their guide, who pushed his long stick into the body of the swamp to propel them forward. To what end she wasn’t sure, but from the fervent look in her mother’s eyes, it was nothing good. Her fingers dug into the child’s sweaty skin.

As they glided up to the blackened dock, the man announced in a thick accent, She knows you are here, and I go no further.

Her mother nodded and, without as much as a thank you, stepped onto the deck. The girl’s toes hesitated, but she found it as sturdy as any floor. Her mother marched them up the deck and into a small hut. The girl could see the larger house behind it in the twinkle of the firelight. When they entered the first room, she tried to hide behind her mother, but her mother would have none of it. Her mother nearly hauled her up the stairs into the second level, where torchlight cast eerie shadows at the edges of the room.

Why have you come? A woman with a thin lacy veil stepped into the light. The witch.

Her mother thrust the girl forward and declared, We heard you were looking to trade a favor for a girl’s eyes.

You heard true, the witch said, rising. Her skirts were layered and old.

The girl looked up at her with fear but tried not to whimper. It would do no good to beg; her mother had never been the loving type. She knew her tears were more likely to incite anger than sympathy. When the witch caught her chin in her hands, the girl stared at her defiantly, trying to see past the veil.

You have fire, little one, she said. She tilted her head, but still the girl could not see her face.

I’d like you to make me young again, her mother insisted. Eyes for youth.

I can only take and give from the same person, the witch explained. Her head tipped up as she released the child’s chin. She tossed a sack down in front of her. But here is the gold, of course.

A few coins slipped from the bag and danced across the floor. Her mother’s foot shot out and stomped a loose coin to the ground. Her eyes sparkled with greed as she reached down and picked up the sack. Her fingers caressed the silver and golden coins, coins stamped with kings that the girl didn’t even know the names of.

Her mother considered her decision for a moment as the witch waited patiently. Finally, she declared, Eyes for beauty. Make her beautiful.

The witch tsked at her and glanced down. She must decide. It is her sight.

The girl fidgeted nervously and said, I would choose to keep my eyes.

The witch laughed a laugh that would melt hearts, it had such hidden power. It was layers upon layers of power and heat, deeply rooted around them and in this island beneath their feet. The girl could feel it and glanced down to look at the wood beneath her toes. When she stopped laughing, the witch held out her gloved hand. Clever little thing. Give me your hand.

The girl’s mother made an angry little sigh as the girl held up her hand. The witch took it and smoothed it open before looking upon it. The soft silk of the gloves felt like whispers of rose petals upon her fingertips. Despite the situation, the girl could not deny the beauty of the gloves nor that the hands they covered were gentler than her mother had ever been.

She tipped her head to look at the girl again. The girl could see no more of her veiled face than her lips as they moved. There is potential for greatness in you, the witch said.

Do we have a deal or not? the mother asked impatiently.

The witch held up a hand, and the woman fell silent; it was not wise to cross a witch. Especially not a Swamp Witch with an island to herself. It terrified her to know that that the witch could light a torch with a single flick of her wrist. It takes great power to see into the future; all of the possible futures one might have were like drops of rain in a monsoon. The fires burned as a constant reminder of the witch’s power.

I must have your sight. I need it for something important, but I will give you something in return, the witch told the girl. Whatever you wish.

The girl slowly tucked her hair behind her right ear before crying bravely, I want to be able to defend myself from everyone!

The girl could just make out the curl of her red lips as the witch smiled and spoke. I shall give you all that you desire. I shall grant you intelligence to outwit any man, I shall enhance the beauty you already have, and I will give you a pistol that always finds it mark. Lastly, I shall give you something that shall ward away men.

The girl shifted uneasily as the witch pulled one hand free of its silk glove. What?

The witch put that hand over her chest and whispered, The mark of a witch’s curse.

The girl screamed as her chest burned and she fell to the floor. Her skin felt as though it was on fire as she writhed in agony. With every blink, her world became darker and darker. Her sight was failing, and all that would be left was darkness. She would never again see the one thousand and one islands of her planet, nor her mother’s cruel face.

C. 1

Ten years later — Island of Jynika

You just had to stop and get the dog! Caliel Holloway bellowed as he and Tomas Wright ran through the field.

Behind him rose the great prison of Encalbez cast in moonlight, the greatest of the White Isles. Soldiers appeared, calling for the three men to halt before opening fire.

The blasts of musket fire rang loud and clear in the distance. Caliel and Tomas ducked as the bullets whizzed by, striking the high grass around them. The man still chained between them held his arms up as though to protect himself from the bullets as they ran.

I couldn’t leave him! Tomas yelled back, his Southeastern accent thick.

Yes, you could, Caliel snapped as he ducked his head.

He helped us out! Tomas replied, sounding defensive.

He bloody well ran off with the keys! Caliel reminded him as they were fired on again. Grass exploded on impact, but none of the bullets struck home.

Damned Whitecoats! Tomas yelled.

They only know we’re here because you ran off with their dog! Caliel said before ducking again.

They came to the end of the tall grass, where the ground gave way to a cliff. I am not jumping! the man cried and tried to turn back.

Sorry, Tomas said without any remorse, but yes, you are.

Tomas caught the man under one arm and Caliel caught him under the other. The dog barked as the three men went over the side, yelling. The water’s black body rushed up to meet them, the night broken only by pale moonlight.

They coughed and sputtered as they swam to the surface and heard shouting above them. Not far from them, a small, empty boat rocked back and forth in the dark of the cliff. Caliel had timed the jump perfectly. They swam as a unit, dragging the partially unconscious third man through the water.

Tomas got into the boat first, pulling the unconscious man in with him as Caliel pushed from the water. Once everyone was in, they pulled the paddles from under the seats and locked them into their joints.

The dog barked and swam towards them as they started to row. Caliel sighed as Tomas pulled the dog into the boat.

It whined and tucked its tail. A moment later, it barked.

Caliel winced. Keep the blasted thing quiet.

The dog turned and gave him an appraising look. Then it lay down in the belly of the boat, silent as the dead. Caliel raised an eyebrow as Tomas smiled.

Awful, the man muttered before sticking his head over the side and spitting out salt water.

I think he likes you, Tomas said, not paying the man any mind.

Better not cause us any more trouble, Caliel sighed. Or he goes overboard.

Don’t listen to him, Kido, Tomas cooed. Uncle Caliel is just a grump.

Kido? he asked with eyebrows raised. As in the deserted island Kido?

I like the sound of it, he retorted as they rowed out around the cape to a well-hidden ship.

It was one of the fastest of the Royal’s fleet, their smallest flagship of the impressive Red Armada. It was used by the highest ranking amongst the Royalguard whenever they needed speed more than strength. Of the three houses that ruled from the three great islands, the House of Royal had the largest fleet. Their island ran from north to south and was the only one that had a desert across its center. Which meant their home was rich in resources and grew the largest variety of plants.

After being in prison for months on this mission away from home, Caliel was looking forward to seeing Port Royal. It would be good to see the family and the city once more. He could all but taste the delectableness of his mother’s cooking.

C. 2

Somewhere off the coast of Tiana

Princess Roxana lay in her canopy bed listening to the soft whispering of her handmaidens’ breathing. These handmaidens were either married women or virgins as was befitting the daughter of the House of Royal, as little as that meant. It was times such as these that she wished she had been born a man.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, she rolled over and tried to let the sound of the water calm her into sleep. She could smell the sweet scent of rose oil in her blond hair, and she breathed deep. Yet despite the gentle lapping of the water and soothing smell, she could not sleep. She was on her way to discuss her own marriage contract—and even that discussion would be done through her father’s advisor, her mouthpiece. Until this moment, she had thought herself prepared.

She should have ended up the wife of a White, yet here she was on the way to the militant House of Lace. The House of Lace had the strongest army, while the House of White was the most intellectually advanced. There was a reason that even during the Tribal Wars no one had tried to invade the Island of Steel. The Tribal Wars had happened a long time ago, yet war always hung in the balance among the kingdoms—Royal, Lace, and White. That is why daughters and sons were constantly traded among the three islands.

Her eldest sister, Iona, had married, Petric, the younger son of the House of White, who was nearly half her age and had once been intended for Roxana. So Roxana, instead, was getting Darius. All of her life she had prepared for the Ivory Isle, the city of learning—but instead she was getting the Island of Steel, the city built on the edge of the sword’s blade.

She must have fallen asleep, or at least drifted off, because the sound of a man yelling woke her. She opened her eyes as the sound was cut short. She sat up as the women around her stirred. She held her breath as she listened, hoping it was a man who had slipped and fallen overboard.

Another shout followed the first. Raiders, Roxana whispered.

One of the women started to cry, but Roxana paid her no mind. She went straight to her trunk and threw the top open. She pushed her belongings aside as she felt around for the latch. With a soft click, the secret panel gave way. The compartment beneath it held only two things: a practical blade and a corked bottle.

What are you doing? one of her younger handmaidens asked.

Preparing for when and if our guards fail to defend us. Roxana stood and looked around her, sad for the lives the other women would have to lead. The bottle held only enough to take one life.

The girl started to cry as another woman gathered her close. All around her, women cried and made noises of despair as the men above their heads were slaughtered. Something dripped on her head and nightgown. She gripped her knife tighter and looked up as more blood ran onto her forehead.

The door to their cabin opened, and Roxana raised her knife. Smoke filled the cabin, sending her into a fit of coughing as she tried to uncork the bottle. The room began to spin. Roxana freed the cork just before she fell back, her knees failing her. She grabbed the bottle from the ground before too much of the precious liquid could spill out, and brought it towards her lips.

A booted foot stepped on her arm before the first drop could touch her tongue.

Her head slumped back as the edge of her vision darkened. Sorry Princess, said a woman’s voice. Not today.

C. 3

Port Royal

Tomas slung an arm around Caliel’s neck as Kido, the dog, jogged behind them. They walked across the deck to get a better view of their home. The ship careened into port, its black sails casting dark shadows in the midday sun. Father Winter’s chill was finally letting up, and soon the summer heat would drive most men indoors when the sun was at full power.

Better view than our jail cell, Tomas commented.

Caliel looked out over the port, which was busy with merchants and vendors. Many were boarding ships, while others departed to other places throughout their great island, Falkry. He caught the eye of a blond girl, pale as snow, and knew she was far from home. Daughters and sons of the Ivory Isle were pale and blond. Tomas’s skin, lighter than that of most of his friends, told everyone that somewhere along the line his family had a link to them as well.

Caliel, on the other hand, had tanned skin, with wild black hair that curled like corkscrews and eyes as blue as the ocean. The blue eyes came from the heart of the 1001 islands. It was said water lived within them; therefore, he was welcome aboard every vessel as a lucky charm. Aside from his eyes, he had the look of many of men native to Port Royal.

You comin’ around for dinner? Caliel asked as Tomas searched the dock.

Maybe, Tomas responded offhandedly before he spotted a pretty little mouse of a girl waiting. He sighed. There she is.

You serious about this? Caliel said, turning to look at him a little better.

I’ll serve out this term and then take over Betsy’s family’s business. Tomas tightened his hold on Caliel’s neck. We’ll need to find you a girl to settle down with, too.

Caliel laughed as he pulled himself free of Tomas’s hold and pushed him off. Marriage is not meant for all men.

Well, it is meant for this man, Tomas said as the gangplank was dropped and he hurried down onto the pier.

Caliel watched as the girl ran to Tomas, who lifted her up. She gave a squeal of delight as she threw her arms around his neck before the young lovers shared a passionate kiss. Betsy put a hand on Tomas’s chest and blushed as she cast her eyes down and whispered something.

Caliel watched them with interest; the feelings they were sharing were not ones he thought he’d ever have himself. He was a Kingsman, a spy, and every mission brought a different life. Tomas had always been the softer of the two of them, his early retirement into the role of a husband proving it true.

Caliel took his time following behind his younger friend, giving the pair a moment and wondering what kind of woman could possibly capture his interest. For sure not a mousy girl like Betsy; someone braver and wilder, he imagined. Yet no figure or form came to mind, no traits he could specifically pinpoint. This mystery woman was beyond his imaginings.

Mr. Holloway, Betsy said shyly, how good it is to see you again.

The pleasure is mine, Miss Jamison, Caliel politely responded.

Thank you for keeping my Tomas safe, she said, putting a possessive hand on her soon-to-be-husband. It is dangerous to travel between the islands with the increase in raider attacks. I was ever so worried.

Gladly, Caliel said patiently. If you’ll excuse me.

Kido walked up behind them and barked twice. Betsy immediately let out a sound of delight and dropped down to scratch at his ears. Caliel looked down at her with as straight a face as he possibly could manage; she thought they were merchants who traveled with goods from one island to the next before returning. It was likely she would never know the truth. That was the life of a Kingsman. A spy lived every moment in half-truths.

What a delightful dog, she exclaimed as he walked around them.

He’s ours, Tomas told her, putting a hand on her back.

Truly? Betsy said, her voice filled with excitement.

Caliel walked deeper into the crowd as Betsy informed the dog that he was coming home with them. He smiled softly as their voices faded. He would see his mother after he made his report. The man they had