Chapter 27

The Pirate's Guide to Hitchhiking

"You—"

"Nuala!"

Lance and Charla moved at the same time, but Charla was faster. She flung herself at the bars and shoved both paws through, ignoring the clatter of chains on iron. She had to know—she had to feel that this was real, that Nuala was really there. When Nuala moved into her clumsy embrace and she felt fur against her paws, her eyes filled with tears.

"You're here," she squeaked. "You're alive. You came back."

" 'Course I did, Char. What do you take me for?"

Nuala sounded exhausted, but at least there was a grin in her voice. Charla hugged her through the bars, feeling damp, straggly fur, so different from her usual sleek pelt, and noticed she was unusually warm to the touch. She ran a paw through ruffled feathers.

"Are you okay?" Charla asked, in that same squeaky voice that was not hers. "Are you hurt? Where have you been? What happened to you? I thought they'd killed you!"

"Easy on the goods," Nuala muttered, half-heartedly prying Charla's paws away, wincing in the process. "I'm not exactly in top form. There's a reason it's taken me this long to get back to you."

Charla sat back and looked her over. There was a certain dullness to her eyes now that she was paying attention—and a sort of limpness in the way she held herself. "What do you mean? You're hurt?"

By way of answer, Nuala grimaced and lifted one of her wings. Charla didn't quite manage to stifle her gasp. Right behind Nuala's shoulder, just beneath the wing joint, was a mess of matted fur and dried blood. Clearly she had not been able to reach to clean it, and it had formed an angry red knot stark against white fur and white feathers. Between the clumps, Charla caught a small glimpse of a gruesome flesh wound—one that looked like it was still weeping. Her stomach churned. Nuala's wing trembled.

"Oh, Nu," Meredy breathed, and Charla jumped to find the sky serpent right next to her, leaning against the bars. Though she looked calmer now than she had in ages, her eyes scanned Nuala with deep anxiety. "You came all this way like that?"

"What else would I have done?" Nuala muttered, hiding the wound beneath her wing again. Meredy pulled her into another awkward embrace through the bars and she fell silent with a grunt. Charla pressed closer, pushing her cheek into Nuala's limp fur, and for a moment all three of them huddled there, rocking slightly, trembling together. Only Lance hung back, cold and stoney in his silence.

Nuala exhaled shakily. "M'okay, guys, really. I'm sorry I made you think I was dead. It's okay now, promise."

"But what happened?" Charla begged, pulling herself together. She didn't let go of Nuala, but she did sit up, and her eyes were no longer wet. "Where did you go? Why did you disappear?"

"I'd like to know that too." Lance spoke at last, his voice tense and unfriendly. "Ran away to save your own hide, I'm guessing."

Nuala shot him a scowl, but her heart didn't seem to be in it. Charla had never seen her look so tired. "Shut your face, Lance. What d'you want from me? I did as much as I could."

Lance scoffed. "Funny. From where I was standing, it didn't look like you did anything. You just vanished."

"And you were busy getting your tail handed to you by a dreadwing!" Nuala spat. "For your information, the first thing I did was try to get back to Charla. And if you hadn't separated us…"

A muscle spasmed in Lance's face. "Don't you dare—"

Nuala ignored him. She turned her tired eyes on Charla and said, "I thought if we could just connect again, we'd be able to fight them off. But the apes got to you first. And…I guess they got me, too."

Her wing quivered and she swayed on her feet. Charla and Meredy grabbed her at the same time and Nuala gave them a dry, exhausted smile. She looked dead on her feet.

"They shot me in a bad spot," she muttered. "Went down like a sack of rocks. Don't remember what happened next—might have lost consciousness for a minute—but everything was going nuts around me and I could barely move for pain, so I just… I couldn't do anything else. What could I have done in that state? What else could I have done? I just hid myself. Went invisible. Waited it out."

"Saved your own hide and left us for dead, like I said," Lance muttered, just loud enough for them to hear, but this time it was Meredy who silenced him.

"Please!" she snapped. "Let her talk."

Lance tensed his jaw and scowled instead. Nuala shook her head, leaning heavily into Charla's paws.

"I dunno what I could have done, anyway. It took all I had just to keep myself invisible, lying there bleeding out on the ground… They searched for me, but… Well. I reckon I must have lost consciousness at some point, because I remember coming to and realising you were gone. So I cleaned myself up best I could and went looking."

She uttered a humourless laugh and swayed dangerously; if Charla and Meredy had not been propping her up, she surely would have crumpled to the ground. Her eyes slid in and out of focus.

"Makes it sound easy, doesn't it?" she slurred. "But it weren't. Had t' pull the arrow out myself, stop the bleeding… Trying to fly like that damn near killed me. I couldn't do it the first day—had to search for you on foot. You can imagine how well that went."

"But I forced myself to keep going. Tracked you here. Saw this whole mess." She grimaced. "I was in the camp, tryna figure out how to spring you free, with the cannons started firing. Got outta there quicksmart, but I didn't know where you guys were in all that mess. Then I saw 'em takin' you on board."

Nuala took a deep, shuddering breath and stood up, steadying herself, the focus returning to her eyes. "And now… I'm gonna get you outta here. I just need to steal some mutt's keys."

"Are you mad?" Meredy hissed, making Charla jump. "Nuala, you're in no state to be stealing anything! Look at you! I don't even know how you're standing! If the pirates catch you, they'll kill you, I'm sure!"

"So what?" Nuala snapped, pushing their paws away. A fire had entered her eyes and she seemed to draw strength from it, despite her wounds. "They're not even gonna see me. How else are you gonna spring yourselves free, huh? Ask nicely?"

Meredy went pink. "I… I just don't want you to get hurt. Nu, you don't look well. I think you're running a fever…"

"Infected wound, probably," Lance muttered.

"What does it matter? I can help you," Nuala growled. "And it's not like you can stop me, seeing as you're all locked up." She turned away from them, staggering slightly. "I'm getting you out of here before the pirates set sail. Don't go anywhere."

She took a step. The air began to shimmer around her. Charla seized her chance.

"Nuala, wait! We can't leave yet!"

Nuala turned her head, her expression incredulous; Charla could feel Lance and Meredy staring at her. Heat flooded her face.

"Well, why not?" Nuala snapped.

Charla licked her fangs. "Because…because I want to stay with the pirates."

If her friends hadn't been staring at her already, now they definitely were. But Charla had an idea and she couldn't get it out of her head. She knew Lance would understand. At least, she hoped he would. He'd given her the idea, after all.

"They're taking us south," she said slowly. "If we stay here, they'll… They'll take us right past the Well of Souls. You said so."

She shot the last bit at Lance, who raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch but otherwise remained stoney-faced. Meredy had gone very pale again.

"So, what, we're hitchhiking with pirates now?" Nuala looked at Charla like she'd gone mad. "You wanna just sit here chained up in prison for all that time? You're not exactly living in comfort!"

"I know, but…" Charla trailed off, warm-faced, too embarrassed to admit to her half-formed ideas. Her head felt like it was spinning; everything had happened so fast. The apes were dead, the pirates had stolen them—and Nuala was back, as if risen from the dead… It was too much for her exhausted mind to grasp.

"She has a point," said Lance, and now everyone stared at him instead. Unfazed, he elaborated. "None of us are in good shape. We've been injured and chained up for days, and all of us are exhausted. An escape attempt at this stage could be disastrous."

He blinked a few times, as if to remind them of their recent failure, and Charla saw his eyes were still red.

"But the pirates want us in good shape," he went on. "The healthier we are, the better price he'll get when he sells us to the Grand Captain. Chained up or not, we'll be treated well here. And I dare say we're safer here than we are out there, seeing as we're deep in ape territory now."

"They said they'll be back with food and spirit gems for us soon," Charla added hopefully, and Nuala looked from her to Lance with the utmost incredulity.

"So, that's it?" she said, her voice reaching a strangely strangled pitch. "I come all this way to save you and you want to stay prisoners?"

"Oh, you can still save us," said Lance, though he curled his lip as if the very idea disgusted him. "Just not yet."

"Not until we're closer to the Well of Souls," Charla added breathlessly. "Then you can spring us out!"

"I-I don't know if this is a good idea," Meredy mumbled, picking at her chains and looking anxiously at Nuala, who jumped at the chance to agree with one of them.

"Exactly!" she insisted. "At least one of you still has some sense. You can't trust pirates. They—"

"...But I also don't think we're in any state to escape right now," Meredy finished in a small voice, dropping her gaze. "We all need to rest, especially you, Nuala. I don't like this any more than you do, but I-I think trying to escape now will just make things worse."

Nuala gaped at her. Lance was nodding slowly. Charla reached through the bars again.

"It's only hitchhiking," she said, as if it were a plea, "like you said. You just have to rescue us a little bit later. Please?"

Nuala sat down with a groan. "You've all lost your minds. But fine. Fine. Whatever. You wanna play pirate hitchhikers, we'll play pirate hitchhikers. Just don't blame me if everything goes wrong."

"No promises," Lance sneered, "seeing as you're the reason we're even in this mess."

"Me?" At once, the fire was back in Nuala's eyes and she was back on her feet. "Last I checked, Char and I were doing just fine on our own until you showed up and attacked us! If this is anyone's fault—"

"Don't play innocent," Lance snarled, pushing his head against the bars. "You know exactly what you were doing to Charla and if you think you can get away with that sort of abuse, you've got another thing coming."

"Abuse? I don't know what you're smoking, jerk, but—"

Lance rammed his horns into the bars with a ringing clang and Meredy shrieked. Charla almost hit the roof.

"But nothing!" he roared. "You were using her! A child! And still you try to pretend that you're her friend? You're scum, fox! You're scum and you know you are!"

"Stop it!" Charla yelled, shoving him hard in the shoulder. "Leave her alone! You don't understand!"

He staggered and glared at her, and though her face was burning, she glared right back. Nevermind that she'd had her own doubts about Nuala—now that Nuala was back, now that she had returned miraculously from the dead, Charla could believe nothing else but that Lance was wrong about her. Nuala was her friend. She would not do such things on purpose.

"Why are you defending her?" he shot back. "If anyone has a right to be angry with her, it's you!"

"But I'm not!" Charla insisted. "She didn't mean to—"

"Don't start with that! Think about what she was doing to you—you can't excuse something like that, whether you want to believe it or not."

"Wow, way to make me sound like a demon, Lance."

"You brought it upon yourself, fox!"

"Okay, enough, please!" Meredy forced her way between them, her face pink again, a certain tremor in her lower jaw. She turned bright, accusing eyes on all three of them in turn. "Is now really the time for this? You're forgetting where we are! And Nuala, you need to rest and get that wound cleaned; this is no time to be yelling at each other. We can deal with this later."

Grim-faced but silenced, Lance sat back from the bars and grunted his reluctant agreement. Charla nodded sheepishly. Only Nuala scowled and argued.

"You know, this isn't exactly the welcome I was expecting. What d'you want me to do, deliver myself to the pirates and ask them to give me a bath and a nice bed?"

"No," Meredy said, pursing her lips. "But you could at least rest in here and let us clean that wound for you."

"Wow, great idea. Pick the lock so I can trap myself in prison with you. What a great rescue attempt. They'll be writing books about that one."

"Nuala, please. You need help."

"You need help. I'm the only one who's not chained up, in case you've forgotten!"

"Exactly," Meredy insisted, sounding exasperated now. "The Skavengers don't know you're here, and you're very good at making yourself unseen, which means you can come and go as much as you please whenever they open the door to give us food. But first we need to clean you up and make sure you're okay. Use your head, Nuala. Please."

Nuala swayed on her feet, her jaw jutting stubbornly."Yeah, alright, but I still don't like it."

"And I don't like the look of that wound," said Meredy, as if that settled the matter—and judging from Nuala's silence, it may well have. "Just rest here and wait, okay? The pirates will be back soon, and then we can fix you up."

Nuala closed her eyes and sighed her resignation. Then she slumped against the bars into Meredy's waiting paws and that was the end of that.

It was perhaps half an hour later when two Skavengers came down to the cell with a bucket of fish, a pail of fresh water, and a small burlap sack that turned out to contain a pawful of spirit gems. Nuala had almost fallen asleep and they were forced to shake her awake when they heard the footsteps. She just barely managed to hide herself in time.

As soon as the door creaked open and the pirates stepped in, Charla felt the brush of fur against her scales that was Nuala slipping through unseen. Neither of the Skavengers noticed. They deposited their burdens, chattered something about setting sail, and left back the way they'd come, yabbering cheerfully to each other. Nuala faded back into view, and the four of them set about dividing up the food and gems.

Charla looked somewhat disappointedly at the two tiny hunks of crystal between her paws. They were no bigger than one of her claws. But she crushed them nonetheless and sighed as the flood of warm mana danced through her veins, easing her aches, her exhaustion, her worries. How she'd missed this feeling.

Then the collar around her neck pulsed coldly and the warmth vanished. Charla caught her breath. The magic was gone. All that remained was a cold feeling in her throat, as if she had swallowed a ball of ice. She reached for the collar, shuddering.

"It's awful, isn't it?" said Meredy. "That ape called them magic suppressors… It reminds me of when I first realised I couldn't use magic anymore. It's a horrible feeling."

Charla could only nod. Whatever the thing at her throat was, it was not a spirit gem—she had never felt anything so wrong.

"With any luck, we won't have to put up with them for long," Lance grunted. His eyes seemed a lot brighter after the spirit gems, and some of his smaller injuries had all but vanished.

Meredy set her uneaten fish aside and pulled the water pail towards her. "Come here, Nuala. Let me look at that wound."

Grumbling under her breath, Nuala slouched over and lay down on her side when Meredy told her to. She didn't take it silently. As Meredy picked up the pail and poured water over the wound, she hissed and whined—and when Meredy started picking the bloody knots out of her fur, she writhed like a headless snake.

"Oh, keep still, please," Meredy begged, holding her down with one paw and combing through Nuala's fur with the other.

"You're pulling my bleedin' fur out!"

"Well, it will bleed more if you keep wriggling around like this!"

Nuala screwed up her face but stayed still after that. By the time Meredy was done, she looked particularly flattened and there was a shallow puddle of bloody water beneath her.

"Here," Lance said, tossing the empty burlap sack to Meredy.

She caught it, wiped the blood from her paws, and mopped up the water. Nuala unsteadily got to her feet.

"Take it easy, please," Meredy told her, looking anxious. "I've cleaned the wound, but I think it might be infected. I'll check it again tonight. In the meantime, please just rest and don't stress yourself."

"Yes, Mum," Nuala muttered, but she pushed her head against Meredy's leg in a grateful sort of way. She lowered herself gingerly onto a pile of straw, holding her wing awkwardly as if afraid of touching her wound. "Guess I'll get some sleep, then. As long as no one wants to yell at me some more."

She scowled in Lance's direction as she spoke, but he ignored her. Charla sidled closer, trying to get a glimpse under her wing, but the wound remained hidden. Nuala managed a smile.

"I'm glad you're okay, Char," she mumbled. "I was scared, y'know? When they took you…"

Charla rested her forehead against Nuala's, feeling the unnatural heat radiating through her fur. "I was scared too…"

" 'M sorry it took me so long to get back to you."

"I was scared you wouldn't come back at all."

"I would have done anything to save you, Char. You know that, right? You know that…"

Charla nodded, unable to speak past the lump in her throat. Moments later, Nuala's warm breaths became deep and slow, and Charla backed away, blinking her stinging eyes. Lance was watching them with a dark look on his face. When their eyes met, he looked away.

Charla turned her back on him and resumed gnawing on her half-eaten fish. After days without food or water or even the ability to open her mouth properly, she couldn't imagine anything tasting better. It was gone before she could even chew it properly.

That was when the first roar rumbled through the bowels of the ship.

Charla, Lance and Meredy all lifted their heads to listen. The sound shuddered through the walls, rolling like thunder, growing louder with every passing moment. Charla felt the floor begin to shake beneath her paws, felt the whole room start to tremble. She braced her claws against the wood, staring wide-eyed down the corridor where the lanterns were swinging on their hooks. Somewhere far above them, yelling voices and running footsteps echoed through the walls. And, slowly, the ship began to move.

"Well, here we go," said Lance, following Charla's gaze into the dim hallway. "We're setting sail. Say goodbye to land. We're on our way to the Southern Isles."

"To the Well of Souls," Charla murmured. And as the ship hummed and vibrated around them, she only wished she was up on deck to see the land fall away from them and into the distance. For good or ill, the final leg of her journey had begun.

Here I come, Jayce…

Their first day at sea was an uneventful one. Charla slept for much of it, seeing as she'd gotten no sleep the previous night, and every time she woke up it was to find that nothing had changed. Lance took to pacing the cell, his chains jangling softly, and Meredy lingered by Nuala's side all day, like a mother fretting over her hatchling. As for Nuala herself, she rarely woke up long enough to say anything.

Twice more before nightfall, Skavengers came down to the cell with fresh pails of water and curious eyes. Charla recognised one of them—the dog called Gunbait, if that was really his name. He was a cheerful sort, even though his leg was heavily bandaged and he walked with a limp.

"Can't wait to see ye in the arena!" he said to Charla the first time he came to see them. "I'll bet all me gold on ye, I will! Ye look like a good sort fer it. Never seen a dragon fight b'fore, ye know. Always meant t' go see that Cynder gal, but never 'ad the chance!"

Charla didn't know what to say to any of this, so she just stared at him, but Gunbait didn't seem to mind. As he wandered back up the corridor, she heard him asking his friend if it was bad to show favouritism to the fighters he'd caught himself.

"On'y, I never had me own dragon to cheer on b'fore…" he said thoughtfully.

For some reason, Charla felt almost flattered.

It was almost impossible to tell the difference between night and day down in the bowels of the ship, but some inner instinct told Charla when it must be getting dark—and the pirates coming down with their dinner also helped. By that time, Nuala wasn't looking so good.

"I'll pass," she mumbled when Meredy woke her up to eat. "Not hungry."

"You have to eat something," Meredy said. "You need your strength. I'll strip off a bit of fish for you, okay?"

Nuala muttered something indistinct. The fur beneath her eyes was dark and slick with sweat. Meredy twisted her tail between her paws.

"Let's take a look at the wound first, then." She reached for Nuala's wing, ignoring Nuala's half-hearted attempt to brush her away. As she uncovered the injury, Charla heard her inhale sharply through her teeth. "Someone pass me the water, please."

Charla was closer; she grabbed the water pail's handle between her teeth and carried it over. Meredy murmured her thanks and set to work, leaving Charla to hover anxiously at her shoulder. When she saw the state of Nuala's wound, she decided she'd rather not watch after all. She backed up, feeling sick, and didn't touch her fish again.

"I don't know what else to do," Meredy admitted in a strained voice, once she'd finished. Nuala had whined and whimpered throughout, but even that had been weak and half-hearted. "Spirit gems won't work on you and we've got nothing else that might help. You'll just have to rest and give your body a chance to fight the infection on its own. You really should try to eat something…"

"S'okay, Merry," Nuala mumbled. "I'll be fine… Just gotta sleep."

And she closed her eyes again. Meredy wrung her paws. Charla shuffled anxiously. There had to be something they could do…

But there was nothing she could think of, and by the next morning Nuala was no better. She could barely muster the strength to hide herself when the Skavengers came around with breakfast—fish again, to no one's surprise. Meredy fretted all the worse; she tore strips off her fish and tried to get Nuala to eat them, but her efforts didn't get very far. Nuala ate only a tiny amount before she refused to take any more. Her fur was looking decidedly limp now. Being near her made Charla feel strangely uncomfortable.

"Will we get sick too?" she mumbled to Lance, and he uttered a soft sound a bit like a scoff.

"It's not that kind of sickness. We can't catch it from her. Think of it like a wound that doesn't want to heal."

But Charla remained wary, and seeing Nuala like that gave her such a powerful sense of fear and anxiety that she was glad to leave everything to Meredy. She busied herself pacing back and forth along the bars, gazing up the empty corridor and trying to figure out how many hours had passed. She longed for a window, for even a glimpse of the outside world. The longer she stayed here, the more it felt like the walls were closing in.

She wanted to see the sky. She needed to know how far they had come.

How long would it take to sail to the Well of Souls? Without any kind of reference, she couldn't begin to figure it out.

If only she still had her satchel, still had the little map they'd gotten from Earthsoul, bought with a pawful of Nuala's feathers…

But this was a new day, and with it came new developments. A little while after breakfast, Gunbait came down to their cell alone, bright-eyed and smiling. He opened the barred door, put his hands on his hips, and announced, "So, 'oo wants some fresh air?"

All three of them stared. Nuala had vanished from view again, and Gunbait's eyes didn't even stray to the spot where she lay.

"Cap'n's orders!" he said, waving his hands. " 'E says yer scales'll go soft an' soggy if we keep ye down here away from the sun fer the whole trip! Fresh air once a day, 'e says. So we're gonna take a li'l walk 'round the deck, alrighty? 'Oo wants ter go first?"

Nobody moved. Charla and Meredy exchanged anxious looks. Lance grunted.

"I'll go," he said gruffly, and Charla gave him a frightened look. What if he didn't come back?

But the pirates wanted them alive, she reminded herself. They'd given them food and even spirit gems, which was far more than what the apes had done.

"Good'o!" Gunbait said, and he strode across the cell and unclasped Lance's chain from the wall. "Le's go, then. I'll be right back fer you two."

He marched Lance out of the cell, keeping a firm grip on the chain.

"Don't go tryin' anythin' funny now," Charla heard him say as they disappeared up the corridor. "I hear ye've already been acquainted with fireplume pollen. Nasty stuff, ain't it?"

They vanished, their footsteps creaking up the distant stairs. Charla exhaled and leaned against the bars.

"Oh, I hope they don't do anything to him," Meredy murmured, and Charla wished she'd be quiet. She was worried enough without Meredy adding to it. "You don't think they've noticed Nuala, do you?"

It was all Charla could do to shake her head and hope she was right. For the whole time Lance was gone, she sat with her head pressed to the bars, facing down the corridor, waiting for him to reappear. The minutes dragged by. She was chewing on her claws when he finally came back, walking sedately at Gunbait's side like some enormous pet hound. Meredy let out an audible sigh of relief—but it didn't last long.

"Yer next," Gunbait said brightly as he unhooked Meredy's chain. He gave it a tug, but Meredy stayed put. Her face was very white.

"N-no, I don't want to go," she stammered. "I-it's okay. I don't need—"

"It's cap'n's orders, lassy," Gunbait said, shrugging. "Won't take long now, out ye come."

"It's fine, Meredy," Lance said, as she shot a terrified look in his direction. "They won't hurt you. It's just a walk."

Charla saw her throat bob. Then she picked up her paws and moved, shivering like she was cold, and let Gunbait guide her out of the cell and up the corridor. Charla stared after her, then whirled on Lance.

"Where did he take you? Did you see where we are?"

"Just up to the deck," Lance said, as if it wasn't important. "You'll find out yourself in a moment."

He paused, looking into Charla's pleading eyes.

"And no," he added, with some amount of exasperation, "we're nowhere near close to Mount Malefor. We've only been here for a day. It's not a short trip."

Charla huffed and looked around. Nuala was watching them through half-open eyes, her limp forelock covering half her face. Once, she might have had a snappy comment or a witty response to make, but sickness had made her quiet and subdued. Charla didn't like this change at all. Sometimes it felt like she hadn't really gotten Nuala back; she'd gotten someone else—someone she didn't recognise, someone else to worry about.

She turned her head again and caught Lance looking at her, but he quickly averted his eyes. The silence between them became unnatural and strange. Charla resumed biting her claws.

That was the other thing Nuala made difficult. Now that she was back, Lance refused to speak openly in her presence—and Charla had more than just a feeling that there was a whole lot he wanted to say. There was still so much left unsaid between them, and the thing he'd said to her the day they were captured—the promise of a long talk—hung over them like a raincloud that refused to break. With Nuala there, he would say nothing. And Charla was too scared of what he might say to ask him herself.

Gunbait came back with Meredy several long minutes later, and Charla was almost glad to leave the oppressive silence inside the cell and go with him. At last she would see the sky again; at last she would see where they were and catch a glimpse of the way ahead. She all but skipped down the corridor, pulling the Skavenger along after her. He seemed to think it was funny.

" 'Old up there, now!" he chortled, pulling back on the chain. "T'aint that excitin'! Yer gonna pull me arm off."

As they reached the stairs, Charla fell back and trotted at his side, staring up at him. "Is your name really Gunbait?"

He laughed again and Charla saw that one of his fangs was missing. Painted dogs looked small and scrawny to her compared to apes, but she liked their solid muzzles and their big pointed ears, and the baggy red-and-white clothes they wore. It made them seem friendlier somehow.

"S'not my real name, o'course," said Gunbait. "Jus' a li'l nickname I got a few years back. Nasty incident with a cannon, y'know—still got the scars! Ev'ryone's called me Gunbait ever since."

"What incident? Isn't that kind of mean? What happened?"

Gunbait laughed louder still and patted her roughly on the top of her head. "Ye don't wanna know! T'aint mean if it were funny. And it were funny, alright."

Charla didn't usually take a response like that without asking more questions, but they'd just reached the top of the stairs and her attention was quickly swept away. The ship's deck was alive with activity. Pirates dashed back and forth under a blazing blue sky, calling to each other, hauling ropes or nets or barrels; a few swung from the rigging, shielding their eyes against the sun as they leaned precariously over the side of the ship; others balanced on high, keeping watch from the nests at the tops of the masts, their spyglasses glinting like crystals in the light. The whole ship hummed like a living beast, and the air was full of chatter and laughter. As Gunbait led Charla out into the sun, pirates everywhere waved and called to them.

Charla quivered with excitement. Nevermind that she was in chains. Nevermind that she was little more than a prisoner here. Nevermind what the Skavengers were planning for her and her friends.

This was amazing.

She bounded to the side of the ship, almost tripping on her chains, and reared up to get a good look over the edge. Gunbait pulled back, yelping in alarm, but Charla ignored him. One of the ship's membranal wings swept through the open air beneath her, cutting low-flying clouds into wispy shapes. Far below, the deep-blue sea shimmered as if studded with gems, filling her lungs with the fresh scent of salt. She breathed deeply and gazed into the distance, feeling lighter and freer than she had in ages, her chains all but forgotten.

Land was a distant dream, a smudge on the horizon. She saw it fade in and out of sight between cloud banks, a jagged line between sea and sky, leading them onwards, guiding them south. A flash of movement caught her eye and she saw the skurvywing, that monstrous red bird, soar overhead, a fish glistening between its claws. The ship dipped and swayed beneath her.

"This is so cool," she breathed.

"It's not a bad life, ye gotta admit," Gunbait said, joining her at the side of the ship. "Fresh air, bright sun, all the fish ye could ever wan' ter eat. It's freedom, it is. The sea. Wouldn' wan' ter live any other way."

Charla nodded slowly. As she breathed the cold sea air, a strange feeling came over her—a feeling like all of the struggles and hardships of the last few months were stripping away from her, peeling from her body like old scales. And as they did, she found that she was still the same Charla who had sailed the southern seas at Jayce's side. She was still the same Charla who had spent her nights in the sand, who had seen the ocean shine in the moonlight and danced under the stars, who had loved and lost out there among the waves.

She was still Jayce's Charla. That Charla had only been buried, not lost. And she was here now, breathing the ocean, tasting the salt.

"I missed the sea," she murmured to herself.

"Reckon I'd miss it too, if I had ter leave." Gunbait jangled her chain. "Let's take a wander, eh? Stretch yer legs."

Charla pushed away from the side of the ship and went with him. Pirates greeted them as they passed, and their grinning faces and excited eyes made Charla feel more like a celebrity than a prisoner. They liked her here. She couldn't explain why, but they did. And somehow, in spite of her manacles, that made all the difference.

This was a whole lot better than being held captive by apes. Especially when escape seemed so close at paw. As soon as Nuala got better; as soon as they got close to the Well of Souls…

She wasn't a prisoner. Not really. She was, as Nuala had said, just hitching a ride.

"Do you see dragons much?" she asked Gunbait as she craned her head to see the enormous white sails flapping in the wind above her. They were as wide and tall as mountains, or so it seemed to her.

"Dragons?" Gunbait echoed. "Not a chance! Ain't seen a dragon in ages—not since I saw one in th' arena a while back. Them apes never let us see hide nor horn o' ye dragons. Tha's why it's a miracle we got ye, y'know."

"And why ye should consider yerself an awful lucky dragon," said another voice, causing Gunbait to whirl around and spring to attention.

"Cap'n Bell, sir!" he yelped. "Ye startled me!"

Charla turned and looked curiously at the captain, who stood with his paws in his pockets and a grin on his face. His feathered captain's hat was set at a jaunty angle, and for the first time Charla noticed a glint of gold amongst his fangs. Though no taller than his crew, there was something impressive about him. It was hard to look away from those bright blue eyes.

"At ease, Gunbait," he said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I jus' wanted to take a gander at our dear li'l dragon friend here. 'Ow about ye take yer break now, rest that leg? I'll take her back down to the cell."

Gunbait faltered. "Ye sure, Cap'n? We was almos' finished. I don't wan' ter trouble ye…"

"No trouble at all, Gunbait! I'm yer captain and I say go rest that leg. I can handle one wee dragon." He winked.

Gunbait grinned and handed Charla's chain into the captain's waiting paw. "Thank ye kindly then, Cap'n. See ye later, li'l draggy!"

And he limped off in a cheerful mood, leaving Charla alone with the captain. She hesitated and looked up into his face. Bell looked back at her. She couldn't imagine what the captain himself wanted with her. Had he caught wind of Nuala, of their escape plans? Unease curdled in her belly.

Captain Bell flashed his golden fang in a smile. "Now, don't look so worried, lass! Yer safe with me. I did save ye from those apes, now, didn't I? They would'a gutted ye like all the other dragons they get their filthy hands on otherwise."

"But they were going to give us to you."

Charla didn't know what made her say it, but the words left her mouth before she could stop them. Captain Bell raised his eyebrows and laughed.

"Give? Naw. Weren't ye listening? He was askin' the impossible, that commander. Grand Cap'n Skabb ain't givin' up his prize fighter fer no creature. Not even ye, pretty as ye are. We couldn't 'ave delivered, and the alliance would'a broken anyway. At least this way we end it on our own terms."

He started to walk and Charla stumbled to follow, gazing up at him.

"Isn't it dangerous, though? Attacking them? What if they attack you? Gaul will be really angry when he finds out."

She could hardly believe her daring, but Captain Bell didn't seem to mind the questions.

"That bilgerat they call king has been angry with us fer a while. Cap'n Skabb is sick o' bowin' to his whims, an' we're sick o' bein' threatened by brutes like that commander. We Skavengers ain't no pushovers, ye know. They'll attack us, alright, but we'll be ready. Cap'n Skabb's been expectin' it fer ages."

"Did you really have to kill them all?"

She thought of the crumbled cliff, the smoking ruins of the ape camp, the bodies strewn amongst shattered rock, and felt vaguely ill. Most of the apes had been defenceless, fast asleep and unsuspecting. They must not have expected the attack. Maybe they'd thought the pirates wouldn't dare to attack them…

How very wrong they'd been.

Captain Bell smirked down at her. "Not feelin' sorry fer apes are ye, lass? They'd 'ave been happy to kill ye."

"No," Charla said, sticking her lower jaw out. "I just don't think you needed to kill them all."

He shrugged. "Would'a been dangerous not to. No one left to pursue us now. An' it'll be a while until Gaul finds out."

Charla thought of the dreadwings she'd seen flying away from the carnage and wondered if that was true. She said nothing, however. Captain Bell led her around the deck and back towards the stairway to the cell, but he slowed before he reached it.

"I like ye, dragon," he said, out of the blue. "Like the way ye think. Like the look in yer eyes. Knew as soon as I saw ye that ye'd be a star in the arena." His bright blue eyes strayed over her, and he looked for all the world like a proud father appraising his child. It reminded Charla of the way Silverback had once looked at her. "Ye could be successful, ye know. It's not a bad life if'n ye can handle the fighting. Ye could live in luxury. Make Cap'n Skabb happy an' he'll give ye anything ye could possibly want."

"Even let me go free?"

Bell stroked the wiry hairs on the underside of his jaw. "Ah, well… Why would ye want to? It's a dangerous world out there, 'specially fer yer kind. If'n the apes are just gonna wipe all ye dragons out, why not stay safe with us? Ye'd be right famous. An' all ye have to do is beat up a few critters, slay a few beasts. Not hard for a lass like ye, eh?"

Charla didn't respond. In some twisted way, he had a point. The world of dragons was in chaos, and every place she'd set foot in had shown the scars of war. There was no telling where it would end—but dragons had already been driven out of the Southern Isles and who was to say it would stop there?

If the world as they knew it was crumbling beneath them, why not run away and become a pirate?

For a moment, she let herself entertain the idea—let herself imagine Jayce and old Silverback in Skavenger clothes, let herself picture life with them on the open sea, free and wild… But the image broke apart there. Because it wouldn't be like that. Not for her. She would be thrown in a cage, forced to fight monsters day after day for a screaming, faceless crowd. And what would it matter if the bars were gilded and the bed was made of clouds? It would still be a cage. She would never be free.

If that was what it came to, maybe she'd rather face a crumbling world that wanted her dead. At least she'd still be able to spread her wings.

"Well," said Captain Bell, with a kind of resignation, as if he'd read the thoughts behind her eyes, "jus' thought ye'd like to know. I like dragons, ye know. Love 'em. Always thought ye were incredible beasts, born to fight. Used to wish I was one too, once upon a time."

He smiled ruefully and started down the steps into the dark bowels of the ship. As Charla followed him, she wondered if he wished to be locked up, too.

Born to fight…

No. She was born to fly. Born to breathe the open air. Born to be free.

And she was not going to let anyone, be they Skavenger or ape, take that away from her.

A/N: The next chapter needs a fair bit of rewriting and I've been having trouble with it, but I wanted to get this one up anyway because it's the last chapter of the decade! And considering this was the decade of Spyro fanfiction for me (seriously, I wrote my first full fic in 2010), it seemed only fitting that I post one last chapter right before it ends. It's just a shame I didn't manage to finish Balefire this year like I wanted to! Oh well. Next year.

I've taken the poll down now; thanks everyone who voted. I was very surprised by the largely positive response! You might not see the results of that response any time soon, but it is noted and stored.

Lastly, before the decade ends, here's a hearty thank you to everyone who's reading this story, and an extra big one to everyone who has reviewed / followed / favourited! Thanks for sticking around! And if you've been hanging around since the days of Tears of an Oracle, an extra shout-out to you. ;P Here's to another great decade of writing.

See you in 2020!