The Key: Book 2 The Rose Tree Chronicles

Chapter Five: Desperate Times...

Rein buried her face in her hands, the weight of it all pressing in. Every species of fairy had witnessed the birth of Xyntriav, had seen the world rise from stardust and shadow. Their knowledge ran deep, carved into memory like rivers into stone. They knew the secrets most beings only dreamed of. They understood how the Cataras Springs flowed against time itself. They knew of the two keys that granted entry to the sacred waters. And they could recite, without hesitation, the locations of all three hidden passageways which led inside. Nearly every detail of the world’s magic had passed through fairy eyes.

“What interest, exactly, do you have in the Cataras Springs?” Rein asked as she sat on the edge of the cigar case.

“I desire to drink the waters of the Spring of Agelessness,” answered the captain.

“You understand it is only agelessness you will receive, and not immortality?”

“I do understand this,” he replied. “But it be agelessness I want, and not immortality. If I wanted immortality, I would not be seeking the Cataras Springs.”

“I suppose not.” Rein racked her mind for more ways out, or at least ways to stall. “Why don’t you want immortality? With agelessness you can still be killed but with immortality, you won’t die ever.”

“Which takes away all the excitement I experience every day in the sweet trade. There be more thrill involved in piracy than just thieving and killing, my dear.”

Rein rubbed her forehead and sighed. The captain’s words echoed in her mind. It was too precise to be guesswork. He knew the key had once been buried beneath the ocean, and somehow, he knew it had resurfaced. That kind of knowledge didn’t come from rumors. He knew much more than he let on, and she would likely not be able to get away with a lie.

“So, are ya gonna tell me?” the captain pressed.

Rein didn’t reply. She didn’t even look at him. Her heart sank with every second that went by without a solution.

“Well then, I guess ye won’t be gettin’ yer wings back.”

Captain Tzatara closed his book, rose, and slid it back onto the shelf. A moment later, the cabin door clicked shut behind him. Rein remained still, staring down at the polished surface of the desk as if it might offer an answer. Another sigh escaped her, heavier than the last. She slumped forward, elbows resting on her knees. What could she do to get this information from the captain without giving away the location of the key?

ξ

Hours had passed. Rein lay inside the open cigar case with her eyes fixed on the curved panels above her, mind still laboring through impossible solutions. Every few minutes, she turned her head to peer through the stained-glass window, hoping to catch a glimpse of birds or distant land. Nothing. Only the endless churn of sea and sky. She itched to move, to explore the cabin for answers, or perhaps something that could spark a useful thought. But how long would the captain be gone? What would happen if he returned and caught her snooping?

Eventually, the restlessness became too much. She climbed out of the cigar case and stood at the edge of the desk, scanning the room. It was just a few steps. Surely the captain wouldn’t fault her for needing to stretch—for not wanting to be confined to a single spot for hours like some display piece. Taking that first step made the next feel easier. Her gaze drifted toward the floor, seeking a path down. Then, she heard footsteps. Rein froze. Of course her courage found her an hour too late. Quickly, she sat at the desk’s edge, propped her head in her hand, and painted her expression with boredom instead of guilt.

The door creaked open. Captain Tzatara entered carrying a plate of food, his face unreadable. He said nothing as he approached. Rein braced herself for reprimand. Instead, he eased into his ornate gold and burgundy chair, tore a piece of bread from the loaf, and placed it gently in front of her.

“Ya hungry? If ya don’t want bread, I have fruit and meat here. Ye can have whatever ya like.”

Rein pretended not to hear him. It took effort—real effort—not to react. The scent of freshly cooked meat drifted through the air, rich and savory, tugging at her resolve like a hook. Her stomach twisted in protest, but she held still, determined not to let hunger make her look too eager.

“Ya know,” continued the captain, “ye can still tell me where the key be. It’s not as though the deal’s off.”

 “Listen.” Rein stood and took a grape from his plate. She couldn’t resist the food any longer. “Someone else is using the key right now. Not for the Springs though. She’s been given a task, and only has a certain amount of time to complete it. The key tells her how much longer she has. So I can’t give it to you right now, even if I wanted to.”

“I see,” the captain said. “That’s quite the predicament, ain’t it? That’s too bad.”

Rein felt her hackles rise at incredible speed. Clearly Captain Tzatara still wanted her to tell him where the key was. Couldn’t he ask for something else? She forced her rage back down with a deep breath.

“Out of curiosity, why aren’t you asking where the Springs are located?”

“I be on my way to talk to someone about that right now,” the captain answered.

“I can save you the trip,” Rein offered after swallowing a bit of her grape.

“No, I want you to give me the key. Because even if I knew the location of the Springs, the key be the only way I can enter.”

Rein paused and thought for a second. This wasn’t entirely true, but telling him about the other two entrances wouldn’t help either of them, so there was no point. She had to come up with something else.

“What if I told you about all the wonders of the Springs?”

“I already know about them.”

Rein failed hide her shock. “What?”

“I already know about them,” the captain repeated. He took a large a bite of his meat, and smiled behind his scruffy facial hair.

“Then what are they?” Rein challenged.

“There be thirteen of them,” Captain Tzatara began. He leaned back in his seat and brushed his hands together. “The Spring of Agelessness, the Spring of Youth, of healing, wisdom, beauty, knowledge, power, life, strength, complete rule, wealth, freedom, and lastly the Spring of Ultimacy. And before ya bother, I do know how the Springs work. At the entrance of the realm, there be thirteen goblets of different colors, one goblet to each spring. The trick be that ya have to match the right goblet to the right spring. The more extraordinary the wonder, the harder it be to find. Ye know ya found the right one when the goblet ya hold disappears in the water. And trust me, I know which goblet goes to which spring, and the details of what spring does what. Please don’t make me name ‘em.”

Rein gaped blankly at the captain. “How do you know all this?”

Captain Tzatara smiled. Then he rose from his chair and crossed to the bookcase, targeting a specific book. The volume stood out from all the others on the shelf. Its cover was ebony, polished to a deep shine, with gold etchings curling across the surface in intricate, ancient patterns. When he pulled it free, its weight seemed to anchor the room. The pages, thick and timeworn, were lined with gold dust which caught the cabin’s filtered light and shimmered faintly. A violet velvet ribbon marked a place near the middle, soft and regal. The captain carried it back to his desk, and set it down before Rein with quiet ceremony, who knew exactly which book it was without having to read its glistening title: Xyntriav Book of Wonders.

“How did you find this?” Rein leaned in, eyes wide, as the images inside shifted and shimmered as living scenes unfolding in color and sound. Rivers flowed, clouds churned in the skies, creatures moved as alive, whispering their stories through the pages. Sure, Rein was aware of its existence, but she had never seen it before.

“La Tennaco Canyon,” Captain Tzatara answered. “Obviously, it wasn’t an easy prize. Especially since I didn’t have the help that it offers to find it. Though, I did have some help. Unfortunately, the fairies were clever enough to leave out some important information, and that’s where you come in.”

Rein snapped out of her amazement. “I can finish it for you,” she offered as she flipped back to the first page. The Fairy Circle would have her drawn and quartered, but if she obtained wings again, she would never have to return to the Maja Forest, and they could never try and convict her. “I can answer all the questions this book leaves you with.”

Captain Tzatara stopped her by closing the book. “Ye can start with the location of the key.”

“Well, everything besides that of course,” Rein said.

The captain pulled the book away. “I don’t care about everything else at the moment. I want the key.”

“But you might want to know for future reference,” Rein suggested.

“Then I’ll figure it all out in the future. Right now, I’m more worried about the present.”

“Captain! Captain!” A crewmember pounded on the cabin door.

“Get in the box,” the captain ordered.

Rein decided it would be more sensible to obey the captain’s every word in order to stay on his good side. In making that decision, she immediately hopped into the cigar case and let the captain close and lock it.

“Captain! We’ve come upon the Royal Marina!”

“Is that so…”

The captain rushed out of the cabin and locked the doors behind him. Then Rein heard his boots pounding away, followed by a surge of voices from the deck—shouts, laughter, cheers thick with the heat of looming violence. Rein sulked in the case and crumpled the velvet kerchief tight in her fists. Her thoughts spiraled. How could she learn the information she needed to get her wings back without telling the captain that Empress Renée had the key on Arcor? Then she remembered the small, leather-bound book that Captain Tzatara had shown her. This time, she had an estimate to how long he may be out of his cabin.

The Royal Marina was a ship that transported the royal family of Vira, a nation fat with gold and glory. Captain Tzatara wouldn’t pass up a prize like that. And with his reputation, the odds of the Royal Marina escaping unscathed were slim to none. So, Rein concluded she had plenty of time to get a lot done, and no fear of death during the battle.

Rein slipped out of the cigar box and landed softly on the desk. Her eyes flicked to the towering bookcase across the room. The book she needed sat three shelves up from the bottom. She glanced around for a way off the desk, and she could only find one. She leapt onto the captain’s chair, then down to the floor, her new boots silent on the redwood boards. She would figure out how to get back onto the desk later.

Meanwhile, the noise swelled outside the cabin. Taunts, jeers, a thunder of boots. The Royal Marina hadn’t been struck yet, but the tension was climbing fast. Rein sprinted to the base of the bookcase, breath tight in her chest. Tzatara’s voice roared over the others, barking orders at his crew. The uproar sharpened, and so did her resolve. Rein grasped the wood and began to climb, her limbs trembling with effort and anxiety. The sounds of war gathered like a storm above her, but she forced herself upward, hand over hand, inch by inch, toward the shelf and the secrets it held.

Just as Rein reached the shelf, a heavy thud shook the cabin doors. Then another. Two men slammed against them grunting, snarling, weapons clashing as they wrestled in a chaotic blur just beyond the glass. Rein flattened herself against the bookcase, heart hammering, eyes fixed on the entrance. The bruised-glass panes, already grimy and warped by time, made it impossible to tell who was winning, only that the struggle was brutal. Then came the sharp, wet sound of flesh yielding to steel, and one body dropped. She couldn’t see which man had fallen, only the vague outline crumpled in the doorway. But the doors held.

Rein drew a shaky breath and forced herself to look away. Focus. She pressed onward. Inch by inch, she crept along the row of old books and journals. They served as handholds, helping her balance on the narrow shelf as the ship creaked and swayed beneath her. At last, she found it: the leather-bound journal she’d seen before. Now the trick was removing and opening it safely.

But before she could even begin to free it, the first impact hit. A low, thunderous crack echoed through the cabin as a boulder from the Royal Marina struck the Blood Omen’s hull. The shelf jolted beneath her feet, nearly hurling her into the air. Rein clung to the wood, eyes wide, knuckles white. Another strike. Closer. Stronger. All around her, the captain’s prized belongings toppled—ornaments, inkwells, delicate glass relics smashing to the floor. Even books began to tumble like leaves in a storm. She reached for the journal just as it shook loose. It slipped from her grip. She scrambled for a journal nearby to keep steady, fingertips grazing its spine, but the next impact was too much. The shelf bucked hard, and Rein lost her grip. She plummeted. The floor rushed up to meet her, and pain bloomed at the base of her skull as she hit the ground. Before she could recover, a rain of heavy tomes followed. She rolled, gasping, dodging falling volumes as they slammed into the wood around her.

To Rein’s relief, one of the fallen objects was the small leather-bound book she’d risked so much to reach. She snatched it up, keeping one wary eye on the shelves above in case more volumes came crashing down. Cracking open the cover, she found a folded piece of parchment tucked just inside. Was this the loose piece she had eyed previously? Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it, smoothing the brittle edges against the floor. It was a map of an island, faded and hand-drawn, outlined in curling ink strokes. But then her heart sank. The words scrawled across the map were written in a language she didn’t recognize.

She stared at it, willing it to make sense. The script didn’t belong to elves, nor to dwarves. It wasn’t the native tongue of Noelle, either. None of the common dialects matched. It was Captain Tzatara’s map, where was he from? What language was the name, “Tzatara?” She remembered hearing once that the name meant “great leader,” though the source had never said in which tongue. She closed her eyes, focused, and forced her thoughts into order. Two possibilities rose to the surface: Hagorian or Dovish. The trouble was those two languages were very similar. Nearly indistinguishable in written form, except in rare but critical moments. Like reading a map.

Rein knew only fragments of Hagorian and Dovish, but she combed through every scrap of memory, searching for clues. If she could identify the island, maybe the language would follow. Another jarring explosion rocked the ship, but she held her focus, fingers steadying the brittle parchment. Then she realized: she was looking at a map of Roznova, one of the Continent Islands. There was the jagged coastline, the fire volcanoes, the brittle forests. And that meant the language was Dovish. A wave of relief washed over her. This was rather convenient. She was already headed to Arcor, the largest of the islands. So when she finally met up with Empress Renée, they wouldn’t have far to travel.

Another blast shook the cabin. Then, silence. A heartbeat later, cheers erupted from the deck. The battle was over. Rein stuffed the map beneath the journal’s cover and froze, heart racing. The victory whoops outside were fading now, replaced by the eerie hum of her own breath and the ringing in her ears. She turned toward the desk, eyeing the smooth, polished legs of the chair and table. There was no chance she would climb those in time. Her gaze darted around the cabin. Behind her, on the first shelf, a small trinket box carved like a miniature treasure chest caught her eye. She sprinted to it, flipped open the lid, and found a tangle of pearls and delicate gold chains inside. Not ideal. But better than nothing. She scrambled in, pulled the sparkling clutter over herself, and drew the lid shut just as footsteps approached.

Moments later, the locked clicked, and Captain Tzatara’s laughter filled the room. Rein didn’t move a muscle.

“Go loot the boat and sink it! Take no prisoners!”

The doors closed and locked again. Rein remained completely motionless.

“So, Little Pixie. Where were we in our delightful conversation before I conquered the Royal Marina?”

Rein listened intently as the captain unlocked the cigar box on his desk. Her head buzzed and her breathing became quick and shallow.

“What the—Rein?” The captain’s voice was firm. “I know yer still in here somewhere. You’d better reveal yerself before ya get in more trouble when I find ya.”

Rein stayed quiet. She shivered among the jewels as the air grew hot in the tiny box. Meanwhile, the captain shuffled about the cabin, moving things around and swearing under his breath. The tension grew so difficult to bear that Rein even contemplated revealing herself in the hopes of gaining mercy, but she couldn’t decide for certain if that was a wise decision.

“If I were this little pixie, where would I be?” Captain Tzatara asked aloud.

In the darkness of the box, Rein could hear footsteps nearing her hideout. Slowly. Cautiously.

“Hmmm…”

Suddenly, light flooded into the box.