Pirate Emperor by KAI MEYER

Author:KAI MEYER
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry
Published: 2007-08-10T16:00:00+00:00

11

The Ghost in the Barrel

Some legends tell invented stories that are nevertheless true. Others are only lies if those who hear them close their ears to the truth. And some stories—however improbable they appear, however crazy and far-fetched—paint a picture that the reality vastly surpasses in poignancy and truth.

The story of Santiago and his death in the barrel was not freely invented. But within a few months it had grown far beyond a simple rumor, repeated hundreds of times, exaggerated and embellished.

And yet in this case, the reality exceeded all the stories: It was the craziest, most macabre, and out-and-out wildest picture that Soledad had encountered in all her years as the daughter of a pirate emperor.

On the face of it, there was only a wide sandy beach with a large barrel and a pair of boots sticking out of it. But seen and felt, it was a sight that burned into Soledad’s mind so deeply that she’d never forget it.

It wasn’t only the image itself that impressed her so deeply. There was more. In the desolation of the island, among the sand dunes, Santiago’s ghost was as perceptible as an ocean breeze that comes up and dies down again.

“You feel him too, don’t you?” The Ghost Trader’s voice broke through the silence that had settled over them since their arrival at the island.

Soledad and Walker nodded at the same time.

“No other human being has ever died on this island before,” said the Trader, frowning. “The loneliness must be a thousand times harder for a ghost to bear than for a living person.”

Soledad nodded again as if she knew exactly what the Trader was talking about. She could almost taste on her lips the feelings of loneliness and confusion that surrounded the entire island.

The sea horses were moving through the shallow waters at almost a walking pace. They were being extremely careful not to touch the ground with their sensitive tail fins. Finally they stopped, and the three riders had to cover the rest of the distance on foot.

The air over the sand appeared to blur when Soledad reached the beach and turned toward the barrel. Only ten yards separated her from her goal. The Ghost Trader had chosen to remain some distance behind. He sensed that the island was completely under the dead mans control.

Vague forms peeled out of the shimmering air before Soledad’s eyes, images of ships, of battles, and of drinking bouts. But also distorted impressions of ragged children on the beach, of men in uniform, prison cells, laughing and screaming women, fire and gold and blood seeping into the sand. None of it was real, and by the time the Ghost Trader called over to her that these images must be the life experiences of Captain Santiago, Soledad had already come to that idea on her own.

These pictures did not appear in any organized sequence; they overlapped and mixed with each other. Grown-ups suddenly had the faces of children, and the other way around. Clothes changed in the wink of an eye.

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