Chapter I
Shadow Of The Past
(This is the first chapter of Roses and Thorns (Part 1))
‘There are two sides to everything, sweetheart. A good side, and a bad side. The bad side is where the danger comes from. The good side has yet to prove itself.’
‘Why?’
‘Because, unfortunately, good does not occur often in this world. Death and disease and decay are all part of life – they are necessary to the workings of this world – but everything must be in balance. Death will eventually be overcome by life before the circle turns back to death. Everything is equal, Ashley, never forget that. Nothing can be completely overcome.
- 1668
Ashley Tremaine wound her way along the beach. She spotted another pretty shell in the water and moved towards it. A voice stopped her.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
Ashley spun around in fright, her long hair whipping her fair face. Her silver eyes locked onto those of a small boy. He wore dark clothing and a smug smile upon his face. His arms were crossed across his chest.
‘Well you’re not me, are you? So you can’t possibly tell me what to do!’
The boy’s smile vanished and his arms fell to his sides. He looked angry.
‘I can if you don’t want to drown! Didn’t your parents ever tell you that it’s dangerous to walk so close to the water? My father says that the sea gets angry with you and it’ll swallow you whole!’
Ashley laughed nervously at the boy. She stepped away from the reaching waves towards him. He smiled again and nodded his head.
‘That’s better. It’ll have quite a job reaching you now! I’m Zander, by the way.’
The little boy held out his hand to her. She took it and shook it politely.
‘I’m Ashley. I’m four.’
‘I’m five! That means I’m a whole year older than you!
Ashley glared at him.
‘I know that!’
‘I never said you didn’t. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I’m sorry.’
‘Apology accepted.’ She said sweetly.
She put down her basket of shells. She sat down on the sand and looked up at him expectantly. He sat beside her.
‘Let’s be best friends,’ she said as she slipped her hand into his.
- 21 September 1680 – fourteen years later…
The moon glowed pearly silver, casting a flush over the rippling ocean as the tide came in. The freezing water reached into the entrance of a small cave that opened in the mountain.
It was at the entrance that eighteen-year-old Ashley Tremaine stood, her fingers nervously moving over the leather holster that held her pistol with its six bullets and a sharp dagger.
She felt the small leather bag attached to the holster. Rolled up within this was the letter Zander had sent her. It had seemed so heart-felt and apologetic - this place was the opposite. It was dank and cold and the stench of death from shipwrecks long ago permeated the air, making it thick and uncomfortable.
She ran her fingers over the red rose seal and smiled slightly, memories of Zander filling her mind. He had remembered… red roses were Ash’s favourite flower. A picture of his long dark hair and deep green eyes pasted itself in her mind and she closed her eyes.
When she had received the letter five days ago, it had taken all of her will power to not throw it away. She remembered Antonio’s face when he had seen the name on the letter.
‘Ash, just leave it alone. You remember what happened the last time you answered one of his letters!’
Ash looked up at him. He stood behind her with his hand on her shoulder. There was concern in his dark green eyes.
‘Ani, I’m not going to answer it, I just want to read it.’
The moon reached its peak and a shadow fell across the mouth of the cave, leaving the interior completely dark. That was the signal. Zander had told her to enter the cave as the moonlight left it. The cave was in complete darkness.
Ash stepped into the small cave and cautiously lifted the oil lamp higher, the light of its flame dancing off the walls of smooth stone.
Her free hand rose to her throat, her fingers running over the cross around her neck. The cross had been on that very chain around her neck from the day she had been born. It was a small cross of solid gold with an intricately carved AF on the front. It stood (or so her mother had told her) for the Aureus Family, ancestors her mother’s side, and had been in her family for generations.
The cave wasn’t very deep so she soon found herself at a dead end. The rock face ahead of her had been decorated in letters that Ash couldn’t make out in the darkness. There were places where the lamp couldn’t reach and Ash felt vulnerability set in. It was the feeling you get when you realize that you’ve just stepped into a trap.
Ash sat on her hunches and placed the lamp on the floor.
A voice escaped from the shadows.
‘Don’t bother getting comfortable, Ash. We won’t be here for long.’
‘Zander.’
A young man stepped from the shadows. Ash stood, leaving the lamp on the floor. She wondered how long he had been watching her. Her eyes searched the nineteen-year-old's handsome face for the crease of his twisted smile.
She felt a wave of sadness wash over her as she looked into his face. It was the shadow of the man she had once known. The vast change in his appearance over two years shocked her. His hair, which had been thick and dark, now hung straight and unkempt and the colour looked as though it had been washed away. It was now past his shoulders.
His face was sunken in and pale with dark rings beneath his eyes. For a man who spent most of his life in the hot sunlight, he looked as if he lived in a prison where the sun could never reach him.
‘It’s good to see you again, Ash. Did you enjoy our time together when last we met? Have you come back for more?’
His gaze lingered upon her right arm where a rose entwined by two vines was engraved in her skin, each vine covered in thorns.
‘I seem to remember it was you who requested this meeting? I’ve come simply to listen.’
Ash unclipped the belt that held her weapons. They fell to the floor and the once handsome young pirate raised his eyebrows.
‘I’d have thought you would have learned from our last encounter –’ he put a delicate stress on the word, ‘– that coming back to me unarmed is, to all intents and purposes, stupidity at it’s highest level. Yet here you are, completely unarmed and ready to die.’
‘That that thought even crosses you mind is despicable. Would you really be able to do it?’
Zander’s expression faltered slightly before he regained his composure and smirked. ‘I would do anything right now, Ash, if it meant that you would know how I feel.’
He moved towards her and she instinctively stepped away from him. He caught her wrist and stood right in front of her. He took a deep breath and smiled slightly, his eyes closed.
‘I’d forgotten,’ he whispered, ‘but now I remember.’
Ash’s heart leaped with a mixture of fear and ecstasy. The tight grip that he had on her wrist terrified her and brought images from the last time they had met flooding back but his presence, the feeling of him being close to her, brought back memories from her childhood.
His hand reached forwards and his ice-cold fingers linked themselves with her own. He raised his hand, drawing hers with him. His hand stopped below his chin and he brushed his lips over her knuckles. She led his hand towards her and her fingers gracefully freed themselves of his grip.
‘The top pocket,’ she murmured.
‘What?’
‘Reach into the top pocket.’
He reached into her coat and withdrew a small piece of folded parchment. It was a drawing of three children. A young girl in a long dress like that of a princess stood in the centre and two handsome young boys stood on either side of her, wooden swords in their hands. The first young boy was a nine year old Zander. The other was Jayson Davies, the quiet boy Ash and Zander had befriended three years before the drawing. Ash’s mother had sketched it, ten years ago.
Zander almost smiled, memories filling his mind. He remembered the day this had been drawn as if it had happened only yesterday.
His hand brushed against hers and he snatched at her wrist again, squeezing it even tighter than before. He twisted it slightly and she cried out softly, a sharp pain shooting through her wrist. She sank to her knees and Zander followed her to the floor, staring fiercely into her silver eyes.
‘Let go,’ she whispered weakly, trying in vain to pry his cold fingers from her wrist.
‘If you think I’m going to give in to your pretty, pleading little eyes then you’re mistaken,’ he hissed. ‘ I’m not going to stop, Ash. Not until you know what it feels like.’ His cold breath caught her as he growled into her ear.
‘Until I know what what feels like?’ she asked desperately, still trying to force his fingers to release her.
Zander tightened his grip on her wrist in answer and he used his free hand to dig his nails into her flesh. She grimaced in pain, her breath rising like smoke before her. The cave felt as though the temperature had dropped several degrees.
‘It’s just us again, Ash. All alone in a deserted cave … with no one to hear your scream.’
Without hesitating, he lifted her and slammed her back against the rock. The breath was knocked from her. Before she had time to recover, he began pressing against her chest.
She gasped for air as the force increased. Suddenly, he abandoned the pressure before increasing it again quickly. The breathe was knocked from her a second time and she fell unconscious.
‘Dagger, take her to the ship.’ He called to one of the crew mates.
‘Aye Captain!’ came a faint reply.
The crew all made their way out of the shadows.
‘Tége!’ he called.
‘Aye Captain!’ called Tége, one foot on the boat, one off.
Zander pointed towards Ash’s weapons. ‘Take the girl’s belongings and make sure they’re not stolen.’
‘Aye Captain.’
Zander walked to the edge of the cave to look out at the full moon. He looked down at the drawing in his hand once more before stuffing it roughly into his coat pocket.
‘Sorry, Ash,’ he whispered, ‘but it looks like we’re back where we started.’
An unusually light feeling flooded towards Ash, pulling her back into consciousness. She lay on something soft and warm and a cool breeze stroked her face.
‘Good morning,’ a soft, deep male voice murmured from beside her.
Ash’s eyes flew open. Her chest ached and every small movement sparked a fierce pain that shot throughout her body, making her groan. Despite the pain, she pushed herself up. The room spun and she suddenly felt nauseous. Two cold yet unexpectedly soft hands gripped her shoulders and gently guided her back down.
‘Slowly,’ Zander whispered tenderly, stroking her cheek with an icy finger, ‘don’t rush yourself, you need to recover.’
Ash drew her coat tightly around her and tried to focus her tired eyes on Zander’s face.
‘What did you do to me?’ she murmured sleepily, wincing at the sharp pain in her chest.
‘Yes, well, I apologise for that,’ he said, a small self-satisfied smile playing with his lips as he stroked a tendril of hair out of her eyes, ‘that was the only way of getting you to come with me.’
‘You could have asked nicely,’ she breathed angrily.
Zander laughed softly. Ash had never heard him sound so dangerous.
‘After all these years, you still hold that fiery streak within you. It’s one of the many things I miss about you.’
Ash couldn’t muster the energy to glare at him and so she settled for closing her eyes. After a few seconds she felt his breath on her ear.
‘You look so peaceful.’
‘Go to hell,’ she whispered, before letting herself fall asleep again.
Zander watched Ash’s sleeping form. Dagger was outside, screaming commands as acting-captain, a task he did not take on lightly.
Zander’s thoughts had, once again, been focused on one thing and one thing alone – Ashley Tremaine.
At last, after a year of anguish and pain, left alone with his own tormented thoughts and the guilt that was carved into him like a dark spell. With each passing day, the memory of what he had done had been cemented into his mind a little more until it was all he could think about. The thoughts that occupied his mind were of how he would apologise to Ash, how he would make it up to her . . . how he would make it right . . . how he would cast away the things he had done and start again with the beautiful young woman in front of him . . .
He took another step towards her, forcing her to take a step back. He advanced upon her until her back touched the wall and she shrank back against it. He slipped the knife from her hand and held it at her throat.
‘W-what happened to you?’
Her voice barely more than a breath of air and for the first time in years, Zander heard Ash sound truly scared.
‘My father turned me pirate, Ashley. He called us all “pure evil”. He was so proud when I finally proved my worth … proved I didn’t need soft loving kindness to survive.’
He took her hand and swept his own over it, leaving something in her palm. Ash drew her hand away and hugged the cloak tighter to her. She stared at what Zander had put in her hand – a red rose bud. She shivered. Zander’s hands were as cold as the sea, the waves of which were crashing against the fore of the ship.
He reached out and slipped the cloak off her shoulders. Ash winced slightly at his touch but did not back away.
Zander slowly pulled her towards him until he wrapped his arms around her. She gasped as his hands made contact with the bare skin of her arms. She heard him sigh softly.
‘Life was so easy, wasn’t it? Nothing could’ve have ruined it …’ There was a dreamy quality to his voice before it became harsh again. ‘My father captured your mother. And he killed her.’ His breath froze the side of her face.
Tears streaked down Ash’s cheeks and she gently tried to pull away.
‘You weren’t there, were you? He killed your father too.’ Ash could feel his cruel smile as he whispered into her ear.
‘Then your poor brother, Thomas-’
‘Stop! Please, Zander! Just let me go!’ She wrenched herself from his grasp, turned, and fell to the floor sobbing.
‘I knew you’d break Ash. You can’t always be brave!’
He dragged her out onto the main deck.
‘Dagger! Tie her to the foot of the wheel!’
‘Aye Captain. Will she need her cloak?’
Zander looked at Ash. Her pleading eyes, her perfect hair, her soft pale lips…
‘No,’ Zander walked past her and the small retractable blade that he carried clicked out as he passed, leaving a shallow gash in her arm. ‘Maybe just a linen cloth.’
The crew laughed as they dragged her up to the wheel. He walked to his quarters and shut out her cries of terror by closing the door. He fell to his knees and took Ash’s jacket in his hands.
The cold, cruel feeling that had taken over him had diminished. Confusion raged through his head… what was he doing? How could he do that to her? In his mind he could see her soft hair whipping around her face and the pink flush that crept across her flawless cheeks. He could feel the warmth of her tears.
‘May every god of the sea, sky and land have mercy on my soul.’ He got up and walked to the window. ‘I’m so sorry Ash.’ He suddenly felt colder than he had ever felt in his life.
A memory stirred at the back of his mind and he closed his eyes…
Catherine Tremaine stood terrified before the pirate and his crew, her son watching in horror as the pirate handed a small handgun to her husband.
‘Shoot her, Tremaine,’ said Black impatiently.
Alistair Tremaine stood frozen, looking from the handgun to his wife and back again.
‘No, father! I won’t let you do this!’ a voice screamed.
‘Shut up, Alexander!’ Black replied, his hollow eyes staring straight through his sixteen-year-old son.
Zander had always been a handsome young man but the time he had spent on his father’s ship had changed his looks. He was still handsome but in a haunting, untamed way, his sunken green eyes stared out from under his long, unkempt hair and his skin glowed with a white shimmer in the moonlight.
Now he was glaring at his father, his powerful muscles on his arms glowing with sweat from pulling ropes while hoisting the mizzen sails. Black turned back to Alistair Tremaine and sighed.
‘Right, Alexander, take the gun!’ he yelled.
‘No,’ Zander replied softly, shaking with hot anger despite the chill air. ‘Never!’
Black motioned for his crew mates to grab the youngest Tremaine standing there, sixteen year old Thomas. One of the crew mates slammed the barrel of a pistol against his head and Catherine Tremaine let out a strangled sob.
Alistair Tremaine ran forwards but, without hesitation, Black raised his gun and fired a shot into Alistair’s leg.
Alistair fell to the floor and Catherine screamed, struggling to break free of the ropes that bound her hands behind her back and the shackles around her ankles and collapsed onto the floor.
‘Take the gun and let’s get this over with.’ Black told his son irritably.
Zander took a few steps towards his father and took the pistol, his hand shaking. He realized at that moment how much he wanted to please his father, though he couldn’t understand why. Black had always made his life hell but he would rather have survived in the cruel world of his father’s ruthlessness than dying from the pain and suffering that Ash had caused him for months. He remembered how he had waited for her to come to him before he left… with that thought; he raised the gun and took aim. There was a silence that lasted about a minute. Within that time, Catherine looked up at Zander, her silver eyes pleading with him, begging him to drop the gun.
Zander closed his eyes tightly and shook his head, trying to rid his mind of the magic in those silver eyes, that magic that had always enchanted him when he was a young boy.
When he opened his eyes, Catherine’s eyes had lost their glitter. She was staring at the ground. A tear fell from her face.
‘Do it!’ his father barked.
Zander jumped at the unexpectedly harsh tone of his father’s voice and his finger jerked against the trigger.
The heart-stopping bang sounded and Catherine’s sobbing halted. She hit the hard wooden deck and lay there like a befouled statue of a once worshiped angel, her long curly brown hair, so much like her daughter’s, fell over her face and onto the worn deck of the ship. Her eyes were lifeless. They stared blankly at the sky.
Zander could hear nothing but the weeping of Alistair and Thomas Tremaine as they mourned the loss of Catherine. His muscles froze; the gun still raised before him… what had he done?
The memory faded into black and he opened his eyes again. He would never tell Ash what had happened that night. He would take the secret to his grave.
Ash gasped as yet another ice-cold cloth was flung at her. A storm was brewing and the wind was getting colder and colder. Her hair whipped around her and she spotted the same crewman that had dragged her. He had dirty blonde hair and a face that didn’t seem to belong to a pirate. There was a softness behind his eyes and he glanced up at her as though he had felt her gaze.
‘Where’s Zander?’ she asked him.
She watched him walk towards her.
‘The Captain don’t come on command, princess. So you’re jus’ going to have to wait. Won’ you?’ His voice was not as rough as Tége’s.
A door opened and the captain stepped out.
‘If she wishes to see me, she’ll be brought to see me. Understand?’ Zander asked.
Dagger shifted uncomfortably, muttered, ‘Aye, Cap’n,’ and walked away.
Zander turned to Ash and watched her. She stayed silent and glared into his eyes with unshaken fury. His letter had been written lovingly in his welcoming, untidy scrawl. The way he now treated her left a lot to be desired and she hated him for it.
She took in his pale features, his sunken cheeks and his dark eyes. She clocked his expression as he noticed the blood stained cloth lying next to her. He walked over to her and drew his dagger. Raising it above his head, his eyes flashed with danger.
Her stomach leaped in fright before it froze and she closed her eyes, leaning against the wooden pole, expecting the worst. She felt the cold dagger brush against her and the crushing ropes fell to the floor.
She stood up and was roughly grabbed by her shoulders.
‘Bring her then leave us.’ Zander threw his dagger and it hit a bucket of water. The bucket split cleanly in half and spilled out over the deck. ‘And scrub this filthy deck, you bilge-sucking waisters!’ His laugh thickened the mist that slowly swallowed the ship.
Dagger grabbed her wrist and marched her into the quarters. He threw her down and slammed the door. Zander turned to face her. His boots made a hollow sound against the wooden floor.
‘Do you know how long I waited for you?’
‘Zander, I –’
‘DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG?’ he yelled.
Ash shrank back in fear as his temper rose. When she didn’t answer, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her.
‘I waited two years, Ash. I waited for something to tell me that you still remembered me, that you hadn’t got yourself hurt... that you were still alive. And I watched the beach as I sailed away, hoping you’d be there, standing on the beach and screaming. But you weren’t.’
‘I was there Zander. And I did scream. But you had already given up and turned away, tried to move on. You would’ve seen me if you hadn’t been trying to prove to your father that you weren’t such a coward!’
Her words stung him and he closed his eyes. Although Ash’s expression remained frozen in a look of saddened fury, there was small satisfied feeling inside of her. Was he showing weakness?
He released her shoulders and opened a trunk. He withdrew a bundle of fabric and threw it at her. Ash caught it and unfolded it.
‘It’s your mother’s dress. My father wanted to dispose of it …’ he paused as if unable to continue. ‘Get out of those freezing clothes,’ he said finally and walked towards the door.
‘Zander?’ Ash was staring at the dress in her hands.
Zander smiled his cruel smile and turned around. She lifted her gaze to his face. He did not need to say anything, to ask what she wanted.
No matter how much he wanted to tell her everything, all the secrets from his past, all the reasons why he had to be cruel, he couldn’t. She was too innocent to give anything away to – yet.
‘Put on the dress. You’ll be warmer.’
He walked out of the room. Closing the doors behind him, he leaned against them, letting the cool night wind blow over his face. He looked up at the crew.
‘What do you pieces of scum think you’re looking at?’
Zander checked the compass on his jacket. There was a storm coming northwest. If they move east, they might lose it.
They would head towards the mountains, and then make for Port Sedito to replenish their supplies. After that short stop, they would make their way up to Pontus Euxinus, the safest place for a pirate to dock.
He steadied the wheel and ordered the crew to release the sails. The wind caught them and the ship was pushed with a sudden burst of speed. No storm was going to blow the Crimson Thorn off course.
*
Ash walked over to an old mirror. She remembered the mirror from Zander’s home. It must have been taken from the house before the fire that had left the brick structure a crumbling ruin and his mother dead.
She studied her reflection.
She was surprised how well the dress fitted her, falling gently around her legs but hugged her waist and chest. The velvet was deep red and the silk was midnight black. She sighed and turned away. She couldn’t stand to look at herself. It was as though her mother was staring back.
Memories of her childhood filled her mind...
Her mother brushed her long, dark brown hair. While she stroked her daughter’s curls, she whispered a story in her ear. It was a story of a prince who went in search of a legendary castle where a princess was said to have slept for one hundred years. The prince would enter the castle and kiss the princess and she would magically awaken. It was Ash’s favourite story.
Their kitchen door banged open and Ash’s father smiled as his wife rose from the old rocking chair to give a hug and a quick kiss before she rushed to the stove to dish up some leftover stew and a small slice of bread.
Her brother rushed into the room just as her father sat down in his armchair, leaping into his arms.
Ash would shake her head and sigh. She scolded her brother in a mother-like way and reminded him of how hard their father worked. The two men would laugh at her proper speech and she would give her father a quick kiss before helping her mother prepare dinner.
She almost smiled to herself as the memories faded. She sat on the floor and reached for her cloak, hugging it around her. The flames burned bright in the lamps but the fire made her feel cold. She heard the door open and she spun around.
‘You look warmer,’ he said, the whisper of what may have been a pleasant statement almost lost in his tone. ‘Come,’ he said and held out his hand.
Ash stepped forwards and took it, wincing slightly as she felt the iciness of his skin.
‘I’m afraid it can’t be helped,’ he murmured and raised his other hand up to her face, lightly brushing it across her cheek. She stepped back.
‘What do you want, Zander? Why do you insist on putting yourself through all this pain again?’ Her eyes held rage, fear, confusion and hatred. He hesitated before answering.
‘Would you like to know why I keep you here? Would you like to know why I’ve done what I have?’
Silence stretched between them for several seconds. He waited, watching her face for a few moments. When she didn’t reply, he turned away from her. He felt Ash reach for his arm to hold him back.
‘Yes.’
The soft word was spoken with hesitation and fear, as though she expected the most horrific story to unfold before her. Zander turned to face her.
Her eyes were watching his face apprehensively, her left hand at her chest, fingers nervously running across the neckline of her dress. There was a curiosity playing with her young features that Zander recognized from their childhoods, a familiar look in her silver eyes.
‘I’ve made an arrangement with Black.’
He stared at her hand as he said it, as if he could not bear to face the inevitably shocked expression that would no doubt consume her features.
‘What arrangement?’ The uncertainty in her voice was more than noticeable.
Zander felt his breath catch in his throat. He hadn’t counted on it being this hard to face her with the truth.
‘I need your mother’s map, Ash. I need to give it to Black, with a guarantee that you will be out of his way when he procures it. He will take the treasure with the promise that you remain unharmed.’
‘Unharmed?’ she asked, taking a step back. Black was the most infamous, evil and murderous pirate to sail the seas. ‘How can you be sure of that, Zander? How can you trust him to remain true to his word?’
Zander took in a silent breath of air and forced himself to look into her eyes.
‘Miss Tremaine, I did not remember asking for your opinion. I don’t believe that you have a choice in the matter, either. This arrangement is my business, not yours and therefore, I will be the one to judge.’
He turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Ash stood frozen in place, her fingers still moving gently across the golden cross. After a few moments she moved to the window and stared out at the full moon. Her mind wandered for a few moments, never able to fully rest on one image for more than a second. The picture she had given Zander entered her mind again.
Wherever you are Jay, I could use your help.
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