Call of the Wraith
Page 25
I was too easy a target against the snow. I had to let go. I fell.
Thunder rolled as their bullets thudded into the cliff. I rolled, too, head over heels back to the beach. My shoulder screamed with every bump, and I screamed with it, all the way down. I hit the ground, sliding until my face splashed in the icy pool. It roused me, the shock of the chill numbing the shock of the pain.
“Christopher!”
Tom’s horrified cry came from overhead. He leaned over the ridge, looking desperately down at me.
Three more shots barked. Snow kicked up beside Tom, and he disappeared. I couldn’t see if he’d been hit; I prayed he wasn’t. My prayers were answered when Tom returned the shot, his musket booming, sending its own lead back in response.
He didn’t hit anyone—I heard the bullet crack as it punched into wood, saw splinters fly from the ship—but suddenly the angry alarm of the pirates became less angry and more alarmed. They scattered for cover.
Tom’s shot had bought me a moment. I pushed myself to my feet, and the agony of it made my head spin. Help me, Master, I prayed, as I climbed the cliff once more. Slowly, so slowly, so slowly I went, fire burning inside.
And then someone gripped my leg.
My panic pushed away the pain as the fingers around my ankle dragged me down. I began to slip—one foot, two feet, three.
I looked to see who had me. It was the pirate who’d been guarding the deck. The closest of the villains, he’d caught up as I’d tried to get away. Now he glared at me as he pulled, hatred in the darkness of his eyes.
There was nothing for it. If he dragged me back down, I was finished. So I reached for my belt, pulled out my pistol, and aimed it at him.
His eyes went wide. He cried out, that same, strange language I didn’t know—though this word I understood well enough.
No!
It made me hesitate. But I had no choice. I thought of the children he’d stolen as I pulled the trigger.
Clack.
The flintlock struck. I saw the spark. But there was no fizz of powder, no burst of smoke.
Horrified, I realized: the powder. It was wet. When we’d gone into the water, I’d forgotten to plug the barrel.
The pirate blinked, stunned. Then he, too, realized what had gone wrong. He grinned and drew his own weapon: a double-bladed hand ax.
He reared back, aiming at my leg. There was only one thing left I could do.
I threw the pistol at him.
It cracked him right in the teeth. He cried out, dropping his ax as his hand flew to his mouth. I tried to drag my ankle from his grasp, but still he held me fast.
And then Bridget returned.
She swooped in and landed right on his face. He cried out again in surprise as she smacked him with her wings, drove her beak into his eyes. He released me, trying to swat her away; his grip lost, he tumbled down the cliff. Bridget tumbled, too, end over end, bumping across the snow.
She righted herself near the bottom and, with a flustered flapping of wings, flew back into darkness. I followed her up, desperation muting the pain.
And then I heard someone else scrambling behind me.
It was the sentry from the cave. He’d made it around the pool, sword already in hand. Inside, I wailed with despair.
Then, suddenly, came a roar. I looked up just in time to see Tom sliding down, feetfirst. He skidded past me and smashed both heels right into the pirate’s cheeks. Back down all of us went.
I sprawled in the snow beside the water. Tom shook flakes from his face. The pirate lay groaning, barely conscious, out of the fight.
Tom hauled me up. “Are you—”
He cried out, crumpling to one knee in the snow.
My blood froze. Had he been shot? I hadn’t heard another shot.
Tom gripped his right leg. “My ankle,” he said, terrified. “I can’t move it.”
My guts dropped. “Come on.” I tugged on his arm. “I’ll help you.”
He looked up to the ridge. “I can’t make that.”
“I got shot,” I said, “and I did it.”
“Christopher—”
“You can. I’m here. I’ll help you.”
I yanked him up. He could barely place any weight on his right foot at all. We hurried, three-legged, to the cliff. “You go first,” I said.
But it was hopeless. Facing no more bullets from above, their own ammunition spent, the pirates sprang from cover and charged around the pool, swords, axes, clubs held aloft. They cursed at us, vicious guttural promises, and I was grateful I didn’t know what they were saying.
Then, from above, I heard a twang. And then, from behind me, I heard a scream.
The lead pirate fell, an arrow in his chest. The pirates skidded to a stop as a second man gasped, another arrow driving him into the snow.
I looked up. It was Wise, returned. He stood atop the ridge, calmly nocking arrows, letting them loose.
The pirates scrambled back to safety as Wise took his vengeance. With each shot, I felt the pain of decades of nightmares, of memories he wished he could forget. The pirates continued to pay for it: A third man took an arrow in the back, a fourth in the leg, and one more—I heard the howl—I know not where. We used our reprieve to creep up the cliff, me behind Tom, pushing on his thigh, giving his leg the support his wounded ankle couldn’t.
I was sure I would faint. Every inch was excruciating. But slowly, slowly, we went. And all the while, Wise gave us cover, arrows buzzing down to greet any pirate who dared poke his head from the cave.
Finally we made it to the top. Sally grabbed Tom’s hand, helping him over, then she took my hand, too. Wise grabbed the back of my collar, and together they pulled me the rest of the way.
I lay in the snow, gasping, trying to stomach the pain. Sally tugged at me. “Come on,” she said, near panic. “We have to go.”
She was right. Wise, looking worried, showed me his quiver; it was empty. Soon the pirates would realize the rain of arrows had ended. And we had nothing left with which to stop them.
“Where are the children?” I said.
Sally pointed. A furrow of tracks led through the snow, toward Seaton, village lights winking beneath the glow of the lighthouse on the coast.
“Go with them,” I told Wise. “Make sure they get safely to town, that no pirates try to flank them.”
He nodded and gripped my uninjured shoulder. Then he ran into the darkness, toward the light.
I scrambled to my feet, and put Tom’s arm around me. “Come on,” I said to Sally. “We have to help him.”
She took his other arm. Together we all took a step toward Seaton, but Tom cried out and fell.
“What happened?” Sally said.
My eyes met Tom’s. I’d never seen him so scared.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
And I knew it was true. “Sally.”
She looked at me quizzically.
“Go with Wise,” I said. “Help the children. When you get to town, tell everyone you see what’s happening. They’ll have already heard the shots. I know they’re not soldiers, but if enough of them come, maybe they’ll scare the pirates away—”
“Why are you telling me this?” she said. “You’re coming with me.”
“Tom’s twisted his ankle. He can’t run.”
She looked at me, then at Tom, horrified. “But . . . so . . . we’ll help him.”
“We can’t,” I said. “Once the pirates realize we’re out of arrows, they’ll swarm over that ridge. If we try to help Tom walk, we’ll move too slowly. They’ll catch up to us well before Seaton.”
“You can’t mean to stay here!” she said, angry and scared. “They’ll kill you!”
“Of course we’re not going to stay here,” I said, like the idea was madness. “But Tom can’t run, so we’re going to hide. We’re going to climb down to the coast, then find a cove to stay in until help comes.”
“They’ll follow you,” she said. “They’ll see your tracks.”
“And if they keep searching?”
“They won’t,” I said pointedly, “if you get men from Seaton and hurry back. So go.”
She looked torn. She knew what I said was the only possible way out for Tom. But still . . . “I’ll stay with you,” she said.
“Two will be easier to hide than three. Besides, we need you to tell the villagers to come get us. Wise can’t speak.”
Her lip trembled. “I’m coming back for you. Don’t you dare die on me.”
“Who, us?” I said. “We’ve been shot, stabbed, strangled, poisoned, burned, bludgeoned, and blown up. Twice.”
“Three times, actually,” Tom said.
“You see?” I forced a smile. “We’re invincible.”
“Oh . . .,” she said, and she wrapped Tom in a hug. Then she threw her arms around me. She lingered, holding me close, her cheek pressed to mine. If I could have, I’d have stayed like that forever.
But I couldn’t. I pushed her away. “Now go.”
“Don’t you dare die on me,” she said. Then she turned and disappeared into the darkness.
And I knew I’d never see her again.
CHAPTER
49
I JUST STOOD THERE, WATCHING her go.
“Christopher,” Tom said.
A strange sort of calm had come over me. “Yes?”
“Your memories came back, didn’t they? You remember us now.”
“I do.”
I turned. He stood in the snow, his right foot barely holding any weight.
“Your plan won’t work,” he said.
“I know.”
“I can’t climb down with this ankle. Not fast enough to avoid the pirates.”
“I know.”
“And there’s nowhere around for us to hide.”
“I know that, too.”
“But then . . . you have to go.”
“No,” I said.
“You have to. If you stay, you’re going to die.”
I shrugged. “You don’t know that.”
“Of course you will!” He was angry now. “Don’t be stupid. Please. I’m begging you to go.”
“I can’t.”
“But why?”
“Because I remember,” I said. “I remember all the times you stayed, when you shouldn’t have. I remember every ludicrous scheme we tried. I remember meeting you on the green when we were eleven, and hitting you with that ridiculous catapult, and I remember finding the best friend I’ll ever have.” My words caught in my throat. “I remember everything, Tom. And I can’t leave you behind to die.”
“I’m going to die, anyway,” he said, his own voice cracking. “You don’t have to.”
“Maybe not.” I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “If I go, I might survive. But I’d always wonder if there was something I might have done that could have saved you. And that I just couldn’t live with.”
“Christopher—”
“No one knows the future,” I said. “We saw a genuine miracle in Paris. Maybe we’ll see another one here. Maybe God will send His avenging angel on blessed wings, and we’ll make jokes about his hair on our way to London. Or maybe we’ll fall beneath the pirates’ swords, and we’ll stand tonight before Saint Peter. It doesn’t matter. Whatever happens, wherever we go, we’ll face it together.”
Tom bowed his head. Then he turned toward the cove and drew his sword. He stripped off the sheath covering the hilt, and thrust Eternity into the ground so it stood upright, a holy cross.
Light glowed over the ridge. The pirates, coming with their torches. I could hear their curses—and now thunder, too, in the distance, a low, rolling rumble.
“Storm’s back,” I said.
“I hear it.”
“Hey,” I said suddenly, “did you see me hit that pirate in the face with my pistol?”
Tom nodded. “That was funny.”
“I’ve been thinking. Homemade cannons, two-hundred-year-old arquebuses, pistols with wet powder . . . I’m pretty good with guns, aren’t I? When we get back to London, I think I should learn to use one properly.”
Tom shook his head. “God help us all.”
I drew my sword, held it loose in my right hand. Left shoulder still burning, I pulled the vial of aqua fortis from my sash and yanked the cork out with my teeth. It would stop one of the pirates, at least.
Rough hands reached over the ridge, finding a hold in the matted snow.
Tom’s voice trembled. “Christopher?”
“Yes?”
“I’m scared.”
“Me, too,” I said.
And then the pirates swarmed over the edge.
CHAPTER
50
I FINALLY GOT A DECENT look at them, illuminated now by their torchlight. Their outfits were an unsightly mix, stolen from their victims during their travels: Ottoman shalvars under Dutch linen shirts under English sheepskin coats, all stained and filthy. But their weapons—swords, axes, clubs, a flail, a spear—would do the job well enough.
They seemed surprised to see us, waiting. They were even more surprised when Tom pointed at them and shouted.
“STOP.”
They did, eyes wide.
“This is England,” Tom said. “And no man who serves the king can ever be a slave. Go. Go home. Or this land will be your grave.”
I don’t know who was more shocked, them or me. They stared at this strange boy, twice the size of any of them, and they hesitated. A man in the center said something harsh—a command—and they put aside their surprise and advanced.
“I don’t think they speak English,” I said.
“I didn’t suppose they would.” Tom sighed. “I just always wanted to say something like that.”
The thunder rumbled, getting closer. Tom pulled his sword from the ground—and this made them pause once again.
The moonstone glowed red in the light of the pirates’ torches. One of them muttered something as he stared at the blade. I didn’t understand the word, but it spread like ripples through the ranks.
I felt the tiniest thrill of hope. “Maybe they’ll understand Eternity,” I said.
Tom raised his sword high. Slowly, he started to whirl it about. The blade rang as it sliced the air, and Eternity began to sing.
The pirates’ muttering grew louder. Where the blade and its moonstone had made them nervous, its song sparked genuine fear. Two of them actually backed away, and, for a moment, I really thought they might flee.
Then the same man as before—he had to be the captain—cursed at them. He barked a string of alien words, and it stopped the pirates in their tracks. One of them, wielding a wickedly curved blade, gathered his courage, stepped forward, and shouted a challenge at Tom.
Tom stayed where he was; his twisted ankle wouldn’t let him advance, anyway. He just whirled Eternity faster, her song ringing in our ears.
The pirate paled. His challenge faltered.
The captain screamed at him. The man steeled himself, raised his cutlass overhead, and charged.
Tom stood his ground. He leaned forward as he spun his blade, as if to rush to meet his attacker. Then, just as the pirate came within range, Tom dropped, cutting downward.
The pirate angled his cutlass into a high parry, expecting to block the blade coming from above. But Tom’s arms heaved, and his mighty strength twisted Eternity as he fell to his knees. Her path curved, and she sang in triumph as she sliced across the man’s chest. The pirate stopped in his tracks.
Eternity’s song faded, and all we heard was rolling thunder. Tom remained on his knees, panting. The pirate stood there, looking puzzled.
Then he fell.
The pirates gasped. The magic blade had defeated their champion with ease. Tom said nothing. He just pushed himself up with his one good leg and began to whirl Eternity again.
This t
ime, all the pirates backed away—all but one. Their captain cursed at them. One of them cursed back and turned, ready to bolt.
The captain didn’t scream at him anymore. He simply thrust his sword through his crewman’s back. Then he kicked the body off his blade, into the snow.
His men froze. The captain said nothing more; he didn’t have to. Their choice was clear: Fight the English giant with the singing sword, or die by their own captain’s hand.
In the end, they stayed. Though they didn’t try to charge us again. Instead, they fanned out, encircling us.
I pivoted with them, my back against Tom’s. My sword was nothing holy, so I just gripped it, praying it wouldn’t slip in the sweat of my palm. I raised the vial of aqua fortis, ready to cast it in the face of the first man who attacked.
“Don’t worry about the men behind you,” I said to Tom. I had to force my voice to stop shaking. “I have them.”
I hoped the pirates couldn’t hear my fear. But Tom did. He brought Eternity down, gripped her hilt with both hands. Her song faded, until there was only thunder and wind.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Always,” I said.
And we readied for their final attack.
CHAPTER
51
THE THUNDER ROLLED EVER CLOSER.
So did the pirates. Their circle was complete; there was nowhere to run. Everything would end here.
I’m going to die, I thought, and I couldn’t believe my own calm. Master?
He came to me. I am here.
I could see his face again. I sent a prayer of thanks heavenward. I’d so wanted to see him one more time.
I thought you’d gone, I said. I thought I’d lost you forever.
Never, he said, and he echoed my words to Tom. I am with you always.
The pirates pressed closer. So did the thunder, a long, steady rumble—
I frowned.
The thunder. It was steady—too steady. And there were no lightning flashes. It was the earth itself that began to shake.
The pirates stopped their advance, uncertain of what strange new magic they were facing. Tom and I were just as confused.