The inside of the cottage looked as if no one had ever lived in it. Birdseed and piles of feathers littered the floor. Pots and pans lay strewn about. There was no furniture except a moth-bitten wool blanket and a mound of crumbled paper. Fane sorted through it at a maddening pace.
“It has to be here someplace. Unless he’s gotten it already, but I don’t see how he could have beat us here, unless he transformed into a crow again.
“Crow?” Angus asked.
“Yes, the very same one that tried to take your medallion. That scrap of material you saw on his eye was no patch; it’s a sort of looking glass. It reflects all that happens. Every move we make. The Dacian knight sees all through that patch.”
“I don’t understand,” Angus said. “Who is the Dacian knight?”
Fane stopped searching and stared at Angus intently. “His name is Dragomir. And the only reason Prudence and Cudweed are on the island is to set him loose from the other realm. She’s not your aunt. In fact you have no aunt. She never existed, at least not in real human form. Dragomir conjured her from the sea to come ashore to find a gate that lies between two worlds. A gate long closed. She was hoping you would lead her to it.”
Angus’ lips tightened. “I knew she was up to something.”
Vanora cocked her head at Fane. “How do you know all this?”
“It’s a long story. I come from the other realm, called Ceoban where the Dacian knight is held captive. Centuries ago the great Kings from your world, that are now buried on this island, traveled freely from Iona to Ceoban, bringing back jewels and weapons forged by the most skillful of hands. Then came Dragomir, born deep within the Carpathian Mountains in Romania. He terrorized Iona and the peaceful monks who lived here until King MacBain entombed him in a cairn in Ceoban and closed the entrance between the two worlds. The king did this in order to protect Iona and all that was good in this world. He appointed me as his advisor and, since that time, I haven’t been home.”
Fane looked away and stared out into the sea. “I do miss it.” He cleared his throat and continued. “Dragomir was guarded by King MacBain’s wildcat, where he was to remain for all time or until he had a change of heart, which never did happen. Over the years he grew more evil and spiteful. When King MacBain died, centuries ago, his son Connor became king and took over guarding the entrance. Then when Connor died, his son took over and so on.” Fane took a deep breath. “The only way Dragomir could get out of his stone prison was by orders from the King or when all of the MacBain kings died out. You see, Angus, you are the last. You’re grandfather kept tabs on Dragomir through me, but he knew his health was failing and Dragomir was growing stronger. He had to protect you, until you were old enough to battle the dark one yourself. Now that time has come. It’s up to you to destroy Dragomir for good, or his power will grow so strong that he will escape and destroy Ceoban by corrupting it with evil. Then he will forge his way back into your world. If you do not go to Ceoban and defeat him, both worlds will no longer exist as we know them. Countless will suffer and die at his hand.”
Angus’ heart hammered. This had to be some kind of mistake. He couldn’t be a king. At least he didn’t feel like one. He’d spent his life only reading about creatures, not battling them. In fact, he avoided confrontations whenever possible. Plus he was terrible in P.E. or anything that took much coordination. He was more of a danger to his classmates than anything, always tripping over people, crushing toes, or fumbling through the hallways knocking kids over on his way to his locker.
“Wow!” Vanora said, grabbing his arm. “That’s so cool!”
Angus stared into Fane’s eyes. The old man seemed serious enough. “But how can I fight him?”
“With goodness and faith, my boy. This is why I didn’t come for you before. In order for you to defeat the sea hag, you had to believe and see for yourself. Now we have to find Cudweed’s eyepiece so Dragomir cannot see us coming. He must not know where the ancient entrance lies. Then we’ll leave for Ceoban at once.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” Angus asked. He would have doubted Fane’s story if he hadn’t seen Prudence slithering back into the sea.
Fane inhaled a ragged breath. “I don’t know. I’ve never had to use the king’s entrance. Since you are part mortal, we have no choice.”
Vanora gasped.
“Part mortal?” Angus asked. He looked sideways at Vanora, hoping the old man wasn’t going to embarrass him in front of her and say he was part ox or elephant or something.
Fane ignored the question and continued. “Your grandfather was the last to know the whereabouts of the king’s entrance. Now think, Angus. He must have told you at some point or left you some clue as to where it’s located?”
Angus thought for a moment. “Yes, in a journal I found in his trunk. I have it in my jacket.” He tugged the book from his pocket and gave it to Fane.
Fane flipped to the first page and studied a drawing of a giant covered by a green quilt. Monogrammed on the tip of the blanket were the initials, F.M.
Fane’s eyes danced. “Fingal McCool. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought of him.”
“Who is he?”
“A friend of mine. He lived a very long time ago. An Irish giant who took a nap on an island called Staffa and almost got himself killed.” Fane took a deep breath and pointed to the ocean. “And according to your book, that is where we’ll find the entrance.” Fane studied another page. “In a musical cavern. Fingal’s Cave, to be exact.”
Fane handed the book to Angus. “We need to get to my boat and leave at once.”
Vanora crossed her arms in front of her chest. “All of this just sounds crazy, but I’m going too.”
Fane paused and shook his head. He took Vanora’s hand. “No, my dear. You don’t know what dangers await you. Even I don’t know what terrible creatures lie in wait to stop us.”
“I’ve worked for years with my father. I know all about mysterious creatures and their habits. I won’t let Angus go alone with you. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.”
Angus rolled his eyes. “I don’t need looking after.”
Vanora placed her hands on her hips and pinned Angus with her eyes. “I’m going and that’s the final word.” She pointed at Fane. “How do you know he’s not some sort of crackpot?”
Fane shook his head and grinned. “You are persistent, aren’t you? I can’t stop you, but just know that you’ve been warned. Crackpot or not, the fate of two worlds is in our hands. I have no time for arguments. Are you coming?”
Without waiting for a reply, Fane climbed into the buggy. He waited for Angus and Vanora to climb aboard and sit down beside him, then flipped the reins. The horse broke into an easy trot down to the beach where a wooden rowboat floated, tied to a jagged rock jutting out of the restless waves. Fane jumped from the buggy and unhitched the horse. He patted the animal on the neck. “There you are, Bill. Thanks for the help.”
The horse nodded, winked, tossed its head, and galloped down the beach into the sea. Angus raised his hand to shield his eyes from the late afternoon sun. In spite of the glare, he could have sworn he saw the horse disappear beneath the waves. He turned to see if Vanora was as shocked as he, but she was already stepping into the boat, her back to him.
Fane untied the rope and pushed away from the beach. He looked at Angus. “Better get in before I shove off. It’s a long swim.”
Angus waded into the purple and green waters, climbed aboard, and took his seat beside Vanora. Fane sat in a middle seat and gripped the oars.
“It looked,” said Angus, knitting his eyebrows, “like your horse just ran straight into the ocean.”
“Yes, of course. He’s going home.”
“Home?”
“Can’t expect him to wait around all day. Bill’s a Kelpie, you know. He lives at the bottom of the sea.” Fane shot him a serious look. “And if you want a word of advice, don’t ever make the mistake of getting on a Kelpie’s back. They’ll take you fo
r a devil of a ride and then most likely drown you. You’re far better off hitching them to a buggy.”
Angus opened his mouth to ask more questions when a surge of fear tightened his chest. Fane was rowing the small vessel into a thick patch of fog and the sun sank behind the clouds.
7
Beads of sweat formed on Fane’s forehead as he rowed through the choppy waves and into the edge of the fog bank. He rubbed his long white beard and glanced at the sky. “We have to get out of sight before that crow spots us.”
Angus looked around nervously. “I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s getting dark and worse than that, it looks like a storm is coming in.”
Vanora shifted in her seat. “You can’t be serious about going all the way to Staffa in this rowboat? We’ll drown for sure. The seas are dangerous around that island, even on a good day.”
Fane rowed deeper into the fog, “No, of course not, my dear.” He crisscrossed the oars in his lap and let the boat drift on the waves. “Momentarily we’ll board a Chinese junk, captained by Yip Man Lee and his motley Singapore crew. He’ll take us to Staffa unseen.”
Vanora’s eyes widened in alarm. “He’ll never see us in all this fog. Even if he finds us, his ship will smash us to bits.”
“Certainly not.” Fane snapped the oars into the oarlocks. “Now my dear, if you will look under your seat you’ll find a tan bag. Please hand it to me.”
Vanora tugged out the burlap sack stamped on the side with bold Chinese lettering and handed it to Fane. He reached inside and took out a brass gong and a wooden striker. Fane tossed the sack into the belly of the boat and stood up, bracing his feet far apart. He held the gong in one hand and the striker in the other. The boat rocked back and forth and Angus gripped the sides in fear of it tipping over. The fog swallowed the top part of Fane’s head, and then his torso.
Fane struck the gong once. Its somber tones carried far out to sea. He sat down, wrestled the instrument into the sack, and handed it to Vanora. “Put it back, dear.”
Vanora leaned forward, took the bag, and slid it under her seat. “How will they know our coordinates?”
“And how can you be sure they heard us?” Angus asked.
“Silence,” Fane hissed. “You must be quiet as stones. She’s approaching.”
He stood up again causing the boat to jerk hard to the right. Vanora collided with Angus and his heart hammered. The water boiled like a great cauldron of oil over a fiery pit. Cold seawater sprayed onto the back of Vanora’s neck and she let out a yelp.
Fane gave her an icy stare and hissed out a command. “Hush.”
Vanora’s mouth gaped open; she poked Angus in the ribs and pointed into the mist.
Fane’s voice boomed. “Behold—The Black Dragon.”
The helm of a great ship broke through the fog, plying through the dark waters at great speed. Her prow, shaped like the head of a black dragon, bore a wide-open mouth showing a long crimson tongue. The ship heaved forward, ghosting through the waves, equipped with a set of three massive bamboo masts in a rich shade of Chinese red. Crusty patches of barnacles clung to her hull. A long, black, salt-stiffened flag with cross bones made an eerie flapping that sent a chill into the center of Angus’ spine. A man stood on her deck. His feet spread wide, muscled arms folded across a chiseled chest. A black brocade robe hung loose on his powerful frame. A gust of salty wind caused it to flap open, showing a black dragon tattooed across his brawny chest.
Fane waved to the man, and then lowered his voice. “That’s Captain Yip Man Lee.”
Vanora sighed. “Just look at those muscles. He certainly is man-lee.”
Angus frowned and wrapped his arms around his chubby stomach, watching Vanora with her eyes fixed on the captain.
Thick ropes fell overboard and into the boat. Fane quickly tied them to the cleats and the rowboat heaved into the air. Angus gripped the gunwale. As the boat rose higher, so did the lump in Angus’ throat. Why did he have to have such a fear of heights? He glanced over the side. He could swim. He’d always been a good swimmer. If he fell over, the worst thing that would happen is that he’d do a massive belly flop.
Two burly men with fists like sledgehammers pulled up the ropes. When the last heave brought the rowboat even with the deck, Angus stepped aboard and squinted. Everything seemed transparent. Was it just a trick of the fog? He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Vanora stared down at her hands, and chewed her lower lip.
Fane let loose with a boisterous laugh. “No worries children, we are traveling under a veil of invisibility. Dragomir cannot see us.”
“You mean we’re invisible?” Angus asked.
Fane nodded and strolled down the lantern lit deck. At once, the eerie mist that lay heavy upon the ship rose and died away. Before Fane stood a group of sailors, scary enough to make Blackbeard himself take pause. They sported a variety of knotted handkerchiefs on their heads, red in color. Most were bare-armed, tattooed, and sunburned. Others wore heavy chains with jade ornaments, and big gold earrings.
Vanora smirked. “I think they need some lessons in how to accessorize.”
Angus shot her a warning glare. “Be quiet or they might make us walk the plank.”
Captain Lee bowed as Fane approached and did the same. Fane gripped the captain’s hand and shook it. “Thank you for coming, old friend. I knew I could count on you.”
Captain Lee’s black eyes softened and he nodded. “Come inside for tea.”
Angus and Vanora followed Fane across the bamboo deck, ducking into a narrow doorway that led inside the captain’s quarters. Fane slipped off his boots and Angus and Vanora slipped off their shoes. The old man left his boots right in the way, but before Angus could step over them, they glided to the side of the steps and aligned themselves neatly. Angus watched in disbelief as his shoes did the same. Vanora stood rigid, fixed to the spot. She pointed at her pink tennis shoes spinning around as if dancing. They made one last spin, then came to a stop beside Angus’ shoes, which looked like giant canoes next to Vanora’s. Angus sighed. Everything from his shirts to his socks seemed extra-large compared to everyone else’s.
Angus elbowed Vanora and motioned for her to follow him across the bamboo floor to a set of crimson pillows where Fane had kneeled in front of a half-round table. Brightly colored Chinese lanterns hung on the walls in shades of blue, reds and yellows. Colorful woodblocks of Asian operas, carved figurines of mandarin ducks, and flowers decorated the room. A massive teak wardrobe took up one whole wall.
Captain Lee sat on a pile of silk pillows across from Fane. “Tell me, old friend. Where am I taking you this time?”
Fane pulled an ivory pipe from his vest, leaned back, and put it to his lips. He patted his pockets, searching for a match. “Staffa. You know the reasons and the whys of my journey, so I will spare you the details.”
The captain nodded, then snapped his fingers and at once a flame came to the tip of his index finger. He leaned forward and lit the pipe as Fane puffed to keep it lit. With another smooth movement of his hand, the captain dashed the fire and rang a small bronze bell at his side. A little man, wearing a white turban with an emerald jewel set into the middle and a golden earring in his nose like a bull, rushed into the room.
“Morocco, bring us tea.” Captain Lee gave a swooping wave of his hand. “Oolong for me and Dragon’s Jaw for those who are present at my table.”
Moments later, the servant returned with a ruby platter holding four handleless cups adorned with blue-painted dragons with red claws and tails. The servant set a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them.
“Thank you,” Fane said. “May your ancestors rest soundly in their watery graves, and may your enemies cower in a foggy haze.” He picked up his cup and drank the contents in one gulp. His beard twitched, his eyes bulged and his whole body shuddered. Angus peered into his cup, it smelled horrible and made his eyes water. The captain gave him a piercing look. Angus didn’t want to be rude, so he tipped the cup up to his lips and swa
llowed. The tea burned like fire, smelled like gasoline, and tasted like rotten cabbage. He tried to breathe, but only managed a wheeze. Vanora slapped him on the back and stared down into her own cup with a worried look.
The captain leaned across the table. “You must drink it.”
Vanora resisted. “No way. I don’t mean to be rude, but it smells terrible.”
Instead of being offended, the captain smiled wide, showing off a perfect set of alabaster teeth. “If I give you a gift will you drink it?”
Vanora eyed him with suspicion. “Why is it so important that I drink it?”
The captain suddenly looked serious. “You will need it for your journey. Would I poison one as lovely as you, my flower?”
Vanora blushed and giggled. Angus rolled his eyes. The captain snapped his fingers twice and Morocco rushed to a wardrobe in the corner. He slid open the bottom drawer and removed two silk robes. He handed Angus a black one with a dragon embossed on the back and Vanora a pink one with a phoenix on it. Vanora looked at Angus’ robe and then her own, and stuck out her lip. Captain Lee tilted her chin so his dark eyes captured hers.
“The dragon and the phoenix are two legendary creatures in China. According to the Tao, the dragon is the symbol of yang-masculinity while the phoenix is the symbol of yin-femininity. Thus the harmonious co-existence of the dragon and the phoenix symbolizes a peaceful and auspicious world.”
She grinned at the captain like a love-struck idiot, rubbing the silky material of the robe against her cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
What was wrong with her? Angus thought, irritated. Hasn’t she ever seen a captain before? He examined the exquisite robe. The embroidered dragon weaved a beautiful pattern across the back and ended in the tail over one shoulder. He had to admit it did look cooler than the wimpy bird on Vanora’s robe.
Vanora eyed the captain and sniffed the tea. “What did you say was in it?”
“The shredded jaw bone of a black dragon. In the dark, you will have the power of his sight. Now drink it and let us be off for Staffa.”
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 6