Dawn broke into the sky, rolling out carpets of lavender, dusty pink, peach and strands of copper. As the rays crested the horizon the West Isles became haloed in its light. With each rising stream of yellow the buildings took on definition.

Isla stood behind the wheel, soaking in the scene like she was observing a painter at work. On a ridge keeping watch over the city was a palace made out of white stone, arches, balconies and domed roofs turning molten gold.

The deck of the ship was quiet, they were still far enough away that Isla could savor the morning by herself without the tumult of docking preparations. She breathed in the air, even from a distance she would smell the tang of an abundance of fruit trees. As the day take took on its full form, the turquoise water took on a crystal clarity.

From below, Bin emerged. He joined Isla absorbing the sight of his home. The two companions remained in silence, neither feeling the need to break the beauty before them with words. When the ports were given distinction, Isla sent Bin to retrieve the rest of the crew. Before he left, she halted him.

"What port will get me closet to Lord Ellis's holding?" she asked.

Bin pointed to the far East side of the city. "The Eddin port will be best."

Isla nodded and Bin descended the stairs to rouse the crew. The ship ran parallel to the land getting a landscape view. The buildings were all made from beige, tan and white stone like they were acting as a canvas to the nature surrounding them.

Trees with pearl white, willowy trunks that were adorned in robes of cobalt, magenta, emerald, violet, and lemon dominated the city. As Isla gazed out on riot of color, she imagined if there was an afterlife it would look like the West Isles.

Whether it was the early hour or the small size of the port, the dock was quiet. It was as if the crew that moved about were the only living souls. After final commands were given out, Isla and Hawk followed Bin off the ship.

The further they got from the sea the stronger the scent of jasmine became. It poured out of the creamy blossoms that clung to walls. The fragrance was tangled with the sweet citrus perfume of the fruit trees that was trapped in the breeze.

Despite the nearness of the ocean, the city held a dry heat as if the sand that swirled about and filled every crack had stolen the moisture from the air. The only relief from the persistent warmth was the gentle winds that scurried through the streets like wild children teasing hair and brushing clothes.

By the time that the trio arrived at a tenant house towards the heart of the city, Isla could feel grains of sand burying themselves in her boots and coating her clothes. The building before them was a light brown like fresh dirt, trees with mustard and aqua foliage hugged the sides, acting as sentinels. Before they entered, they all dusted off the sand from their clothes.

The tenant house's first floor was a wide, open space filled with rounded tables circled by mismatched chairs, a bar on one side and a doorway leading to the kitchen beside it. The clang of pots and the murmur of voices could be heard from the other side. The place had a homey aroma of freshly baked bread mixed with the faint smell of ale.

"Mara," Bin said, his deep voice ringing around the empty space.

The noise from the kitchen stilled. After a breath, the door swung back and a plump woman in her forties with reddish-blonde hair stepped out. When her green eyes alighted on Bin, a smile made of pure surprise and delight cut across her face. Bin's own face mirrored hers, the lines by his eyes bunching together.

"Bin!"

Mara raced towards her husband and he wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her and making color bloom on her round cheeks. Isla looked the other way, offering what little privacy she could to the reunited couple.

"How long are you here?" Mara asked, drawing Isla's attention back.

In answer, Bin focused on Isla, his raised eyebrows repeating the question.

"At least three days," Isla said.

To her surprise, Mara hugged Isla and cupped her face in her hands.

"Then you will stay with us for the time." Stepping back, she inspected Isla with a warm smile tinged with a speck of sadness. "You have grown." She squeezed one of Isla's hand. "I am sorry about your father."

Isla nodded her head, fighting the urge to retract her hand, not wanting to bring his ghost into this cheery place. Bin placed one arm around Mara's shoulders, pulling her to him. The gesture acted as a change in subject. The somber reminder of death was dispersed with a wave of Mara's hand, as she beckoned them to sit.

"I'm sure you're all in need of a hot meal," she said.

Hawk and Isla chose a table nestled in a corner while Bin trailed his wife, not wishing to miss a moment with her. From the windows - that lined the walls - fell dappled light, creating patches of shadows over the tavern.

The clatter from the kitchen was renewed and doubled as the door was opened. A girl with wispy hair strode out, two mugs of coffee held before her. Isla and Hawk accepted their drinks with nods of gratitude. Isla had the strongest urge to request that the girl instruct Bin to return so they could lay out their plans for the guard watch, but stalled it, letting him savor the moments with his wife.

As their food came so did the arrival of the tenants that lived in the upper floors. Sailors, maids, mothers, children, and laborers descended the stairs and settled into tables, exchanging conversation over bowls of porridge and mugs of coffee. They all held the characteristic West Isles traits, reddish-blonde hair, and light brown skin. It was like they were created from the land they inhabited, a mix of sand and shadow. 

When the tavern became too busy, Mara eventually shooed Bin away with a kiss and a flick of her hand. He joined Hawk and Isla, years erased from his face, his eyes still glowing with happiness. Something inside Isla twisted, knowing if it weren't for the debt that anchored all of the crew to the ship, he would be home, helping Mara run the house. With that thought spurring her, she leaned on the table, fingers coming together.

"For this plan to work," she said, "we need to assess the strength of Lord Ellis's holding, the locations we can hide out around it, and set up a schedule to track the guard's nighttime rotations."

She looked to Bin, knowing here he was their greatest advantage. The slim man ran a hand along his jaw, eyes distant in thought.

"Today I can pay that part of the city a visit and find spots for cover. It's best I travel alone, I won't warrant notice."

Though Isla's hair was a golden blonde, her face was too narrow and her eyes too bright to be from the West Isles. She nodded at his assessment, then turned to Hawk.

"I trust you can get us what supplies we need?"

Hawk dipped his chin in agreement.

"I'll create a schedule for a guard watch." Her gaze darted between her two companions. "In three days time I want us to be in possession of the Serpent's eye, that means nothing can go wrong."

*******

As if competing against the heat of the day, the night had a sharp bite to it. The breeze that scuttled around corners and through avenues sent shivers down spines and arms. Isla barely noticed the inconvenience, her gaze focused on the stone wall surrounding a brown stone manor. The moon overhead was playing hide and seek among the clouds, offering splashes of silver light. A hush had fallen over the city like a blanket, the night having tipped towards the horizon.

In the shadows of a four-story building, Isla waited for the signal. Hawk was a silent presence beside her, his darker skin acting as a stronger form of concealment. In the quiet between them, Isla felt the desire to ask about the spy among them, as she had over the last three days, but fought against it. Tonight was about one thing only.

Shoving her query to the side, she assessed the wall again. It was about four feet taller than Hawk and about a foot thick. With no walkway, it had the look of a boundary line more than a defensive barrier.

The top was smooth, offering no spots to notch a hook around. Still, that didn't make it impenetrable. Isla cut her gaze from the wall to the manor itself, it rose three stories high with only the second level dotted with accessible balconies. Their target was on the highest floor.

Isla retraced the manor's layout in her mind for the hundredth time, walking through the path Raif lined out. She was about to run it over again when the flare of a match four streets over snagged her attention. She waited a breath, fingering the blades strapped to her forearms. Another match burst into life.

"Let's go," she said.

They slipped out of the cover of the building and darted towards the barrier. As they moved the moon dived behind a bank of clouds shrouding the city in darkness. Isla uncoiled a length of rope from around her waist, one end still knotted about her. Hawk knelt, interlocking his fingers. Placing on hand on his shoulder, Isla rested one foot into the makeshift step.

With a nod, Hawk rose, hoisting Isla up. Her fingers gripped the top of the wall and she hauled herself onto the narrow ledge. Balancing herself on the thin strip of stone, she wrapped the rope around one wrist and grabbed hold. She gave it one tug and felt the signal echoed back.

Taking a breath, she rolled off the wall. The ground raced up to her and for a second her stomach launched into her throat. The second passed when she didn't plummet to the sand. The rope went taut in her hands and her descent slowed as she acted as a counterweight to Hawk.

When her boots touched down, she sank into a crouch, a line of trees providing cover. The scent of lemons and oranges was overpowering, the sweetness saturating the air. There was a soft shush as Hawk dropped down beside her. Retracting the rope, the pair used the foliage to shield them as they rounded to the West wing of the manor. On the second level was a balcony. When a pair of guards rounded the manor, Isla and Hawk sank to the ground breathing in the dusty smell of sand.

The two guards ambled by, their light tones reflecting their careless pace. Isla tracked their every step, barely breathing, every muscle ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of detection. After they had disappeared once again, Isla and Hawk raced across the expanse to the manor. Hawk played look-out as Isla attached a hook to the rope and lobbed it over the balcony's railing. It caught and she used the side of the manor to climb up, Hawk right behind her.

By the time they were secure in the balcony's confides, another set of voices could be heard approaching. They both buried themselves in the door's archway, peering down at the ground, breathes held. It was less than a minute when the second set of guards came into view.

Isla glanced at Hawk, her pulse thrumming in her veins. Seconds seem to stretch to minutes until the guards passed from sight. Unsheathing a dagger, Isla slipped it through the gap between the two doors, unlatching the lock. With a gentle push, the doors swung open, admitting them to the manor.

The study they stepped into was rich with the smell of ink, pipe smoke, lamp oil, and old books. Closing the door and using what little illumination the muted moon offered, they made their way across the room.

All lay silent in the passageway beyond. Lanterns dotted the corridor giving off patches of light. The pair stuck to the shadows, padding their way through the manor's winding hallways. With each step closer to their destination, Isla felt her heart quicken with desire, need, and hope.

They were at the stairs leading to the third floor when they heard the soft tread of boots. With a glancing at each other, they ducked into a doorway. To Isla's relief, the room that kept them secret was empty and dark. As the footsteps neared, her heart beat into the silence. Hawk stood sentinel at the door, peering through the crack.

When it felt like their combined breath was going to give them away, the footsteps passed on. Isla relaxed the grip on her blade, blood rushing back to her fingers. They left their sanctuary and hurried up the stairs, always gazing up feeling the openness of the stairway like a set of condemning eyes.

The final corridor raced before them and Isla restrained herself from leaving all subtlety behind and making a break for the doors at the end of the hall. Everything in her pulsed for what waited for her on the other side. The taste of freedom was as strong as the blood pumping through her. For a moment, the closeness of their destination blinded her from her surroundings so when a door right before her opened and a guard walked out, she started. It took a second for the man to register them.

In that second, Isla's mind sharpened. As the man was opening his mouth, Isla rushed forward and clamped a hand over his lips, cutting off the warning. She wrapped her other arm around his throat and Hawk pulled out one of his rods and hit the man in the temple. Isla caught him under the arms before he hit the ground. Hawk lifted his legs and Isla nudged the door the man had just walked through open with her foot.

They shuffled into the room, the man hanging between them. What they found waiting for them inside made them freeze.

Seated around a circular table with cards in hand and coins scattered on the table top were four other guards. Their murmured conversation from a second before halted, all eyes turning to the intruders. Shock registered a heartbeat after Isla and Hawk had taken stock of the situation.

Without looking at each other, they released the unconscious guard and went straight for the other men. Instinctively, Isla knew that the two on the left were hers. Adrenaline spiked through her, flooding every muscle. She sprinted forward, her blade already flying ahead of her and landing in one of the guard's arms. He let out a cry of pain and sank back into his chair.

Vaulting over the settee, she slammed her feet into the second guard, taking him and his chair down with a crash. Pinned under her, the man reached for Isla's neck, but she took his wrist and twisted it back, eliciting a grunt. Snatching the closest hard object, a figurine, Isla cracked it against the man's skull. The fight left him as his body went limp.

Jumping up, she went for her first victim. Batting away his sword with the figurine, she got close enough she could smell the ale on his breath. She grasped the dagger still buried in his arm twisted. He screamed, but the sound was cut short when she knocked him unconscious with the figurine. She removed her blade from his arm and wiped it clean on his sleeve.

Setting the figurine back on the table, Isla surveyed Hawk's work. The two other guards were slumped in their chairs, he hadn't given them time to even rise. Exchanging a nod, they left the carnage of their work behind. The room at the end of the hallway was unguarded and Isla assumed they had just dealt with the men who were supposed to be protecting it.

The low whistle of a snore greeted them as they stepped into the darkness. With the door left open, they were able to locate the source. In a large four-poster bed lay a slender man with a lined face, trim goatee and thatch of hair that been drained of color. When the rhythm of his sleep didn't change at the sound of their entrance, they moved further in.

Hawk found a candle as Isla crept to the bed. The room was thrown into a mix of dim shapes and shadows as Hawk struck a match. The blaze subsided as it licked the candle wick. Still, the man slept on. Gripping the handle of her dagger, Isla place on foot on the edge of the bed. Hawk unsheathed his own blade.

With one final look at each other, Isla leapt onto the bed pinning the man down with her legs and covering his mouth as Hawk held his knife to the man's throat. With a jerk the man woke, eyes widening with confusion and fear as the cold metal tickled his skin.

"Don't move and you won't lose your neck," Isla said.

The man froze, his limbs coiled muscles of tension.

"Good," Isla said.

Lord Ellis's eyes soaked in Isla, his body beginning to shake with terror and from trying to remain rigid. With careless slowness Isla traced the tip of her blade down Ellis's arm, settling the point in the crease of his smallest finger.

"Answer my question and you will keep your finger," she said. "Understand?"

To accentuate her statement, she put a touch of pressure on the joint causing the nobleman to break out into a sweat. He nodded furiously until he remembered the knife at his throat and stiffened.

"Good. Now, where is the Serpent's Eye?"

Ellis blinked, the cloud over his eyes telling her that the question hadn't penetrated the layer of sleep and fear that was fogging his brain.

"Where is the emerald," she clarified.

The haze cleared from his hazel eyes with understanding.

"I'm going to remove my hand from your mouth so you can answer, cry out and you'll lose your tongue."

Horror sent a tremor through the man's body. He understood. Slowly, Isla lifted her hand. Ellis ran his tongue over his lips and swallowed. When his response wasn't immediate, Isla pressed the tip of her blade into his skin making him wince.

"The emerald?" she prompted.

"I d-don't have it."

Isla leaned towards him, the dagger cutting through his skin and drawing blood.

"That is a lie," she growled. "I know you do."

The reality of pain made the man struggle, shaking his head, but Isla held him down.

"I don't, I swear it," he said, his voice quivering.

Irritation coursed through Isla and the blade went deeper.

"Swearing changes nothing," she said. "I know Duke Sayers got the emerald for you."

"That is true," the nobleman said, tears beading in his eyes.

"Then where is it?"

Isla felt her patience about to snap, but Hawk's silent presence next to her reminded her to keep herself together.

"I don't have it," Ellis said, the words coming out with choked tears. "It was stolen months ago. I requested Raif to retrieve it for me again."

Isla went taut as anger roiled in her stomach filling her head with dark thoughts. She ground her teeth unaware that she was gripping the knife harder and inflicting more pain. Ellis cried out.

"Please, I swear it. I d-don't have it." His entire body was shaking like a leaf, having no thought for dignity. "I will give you anything else you want from my vaults. Anything you want."

Reining in her emotions, Isla pulled the blade away from Ellis's finger. She knew the plea of an honest man when she heard it and loathed this man for it.

"I want nothing from you," she said, her voice cold as a winter night.

Ellis stared at her in shock. The expression melted as Isla struck the man with the hilt of her knife. His body sank into the mattress as his head flopped to the side. She was clutching the blade's handle so tightly she felt she might snap it in two. Before she could, she rounded and hurled the dagger at the wall. It sunk into the wood with a solid thunk.

"He lied," she snarled, pacing to get her knife.

"It appears so," Hawk said, his voice heavy with disappointment.

Wrenching the blade free, she spun back to Hawk, eyes blazing with fury.

"I'm going to kill him," she said.

Hawk held up his hands. "I understand your frustration, but you need to think about this, Isla. His father is one of the wealthiest noblemen, we hurt him and the situation we are in only gets worst. You can't go throwing him into the ocean.

A thought pierced through the blind rage fueling Isla. With deceptive control, she stowed away her knife.

"That," she said, "is where you are wrong."

**********************************************************************

Not all treasure is gold, mate.

Well this sounds extremely foreboding for Raif. Care to share your thoughts, emotions, predictions, descriptions, intentions, reflections, revisions and such! 💭💬🗯

Okay, I have an interesting topic for this chapter's author note and it's how your culture is misrepresented in books.

Let me explain a little of why I bring this up. I want to represent a lot of different races in my books because that's the world we live, it's made up of all shapes, sizes and colors. But something I've come to realize is that I while I will put in a variety of different races culture-wise for my main character what I write is American.

Here's why, if I tried to represent say, a Chinese character, I would write it wrong because there are cultural things I am completely ignorant about. Yes, I could do a butt ton of research to know every aspect of that culture but part of me knows that because I have never experienced that life it would still fall flat.

And if I did it wrong I would be insulting an entire culture and to me that's not worth it. I never want any one reading my books to be hurt or offended. That's why I stick to writing American, it's what I know. And I know that there are authors from other cultures that will do a ten times better job writing about their culture.

Does that make sense? Can you see what I'm getting out?

I hope so because I don't want to come off sounding close minded. The thing is I want my books to be filled with myriad of races, but I don't want to misrepresent a culture by assuming I could write it without understanding the heart of it.

Dette kappittelets spørsmål (Norwegian): So my question for you in this chapter is a little more complex than others. I want to know what are the top 3 - 5 things that books get wrong about your culture?

And what are the top 3 - 5 things you believe are key to representing your culture that most people wouldn't think about?

I'm really curious to know that answers! I know it will take more time to answer but I hope you do because I want to learn. So help me Obi Wan Kenobi you're my only hope!

Vote, comment, follow, I'm keeping it simple because what I'm already asking from you is a lot. Again, I really hope I didn't come off sounding closed off or insulting. If I did, please let me know.