The Kidnapped Smile

by Laurie Woodward

  This time, Alex wouldn't just swing from the sail lines. This time, he'd sneak aboard and blend in with his disguise—a linen tunic, some loose-fitting striped pants, and a tasseled cap.

  Vulcan tossed a rope over the pirate ship's railing above and tied it off, while Alex crawled toward the bow. Grabbing the gunnels, he looked back at Vulcan holding the line taut in his strong hands. “We could change the plan,” the fire god suggested.

  “I'm in costume,” Alex said, waving a hand over his loose tunic. “Anyhow, you guys have my back, right?”

  Vulcan held up his hammer. “I'd pound any to powder who dared harm the Deliverer.”

  “We will be watching and ready,” Roberto added.

  “See you back at the palace.” Tightening his sword belt, Alex wormed around the rope. He inched upward, drawing ever closer to the chaotic deck above. One foot. Three. Almost there.

  When he reached the top, he heard a loud sigh of relief. Alex smiled at Vulcan before peering through the rails. Next, he swung his legs into a flip like an acrobat. They sailed over the railing and landed with a dull thud. He kept low, making sure the coast was clear before tossing the rope back to Vulcan. Finally, he gave his friends a thumbs-up and watched them row to safety before he crept forward.

  When he reached the entry to the raised captain's cabin he stood, blinking into the empty room. On the rough-hewn table, half-finished meals waited to be eaten, while wine spilled from overturned pewter mugs. A treasure chest stood in one corner, padlock still firmly in place.

  He turned back.

  On the deck below, pirates ran in all directions. With turbans askew and loosely clenched knives in their teeth, they tangled pikes with each other, trying to follow Redbeard's chaotic orders.

  Alex scooted closer to scan the shadowy deck. No ship's boy. Since Pico's job was to carry munitions for the battling pirates, Alex figured he was probably below gathering powder or grapeshot.

  Arrows whizzed from Bartholomew's ship. Atta boy, Richie. You show 'em, Alex thought.

  Then the ship lurched to one side.

  “Cap'n, we be takin' on water!” a voice cried.

  Cursing, Redbeard twisted his long mustache in one hand. “Then patch the hole! Look lively!”

  “We be tryin'.”

  “Must I do everything myself?” Redbeard cried, ducking below with a wave of his velvet cape.

  Alex could see the remaining pirates on deck exchange nervous glances. A few whispered among themselves as they tiptoed toward the starboard side of the ship. A shirtless man stared at the dark water, his back bleeding from a recent whipping. With a rearward glance, he leapt over the side into the canal.

  I'd do the same.

  Another was right on his tail when a soaking wet Redbeard appeared. The fleeing sailor lowered his leg and stood at attention when his captain emerged.

  “Prepare for a takeover. On my signal!” Captain Barbarossa cried pointing at Bartholomew's ship.

  “Gather the cannons and treasure chests,” his brother said. “Shields at the ready. We'll commandeer the caravel from that…” Hizir paused and spat. “dead Deliverer.”

  “But Cap'n. That not be a fast galley. How are we supposed to—”

  Roaring, Redbeard raised his saber and struck, and the arguing man spoke no more. Pointing at the crumpled heap on deck, he snarled at the crew. “Any more of ye landlubbers have questions?”

  When no one replied, he jabbed the air with his sword. “Then attack!”

  Still ducking arrows that continued to fly from Bartholomew's ship, the corsairs immediately unbolted the cannon, tucked daggers in their belts, and filled their pouches with musket balls.

  When Redbeard turned, one pirate lifted a finger to his lips and pointed into the distance. His partner nodded.

  “You are so going to lose,” Alex said under his breath.

  The galley lurched again. Alex clutched the railing to keep from sliding onto the pirates below.

  Boom! A ball flew toward the Column of Saint Mark and crashed into the square. Using this cannon and musket fire as cover, the pirate crew gathered at the bow. Then, in one great rush, the capped and turbaned heads spilled over the side.

  Alex spied one smaller head among the others. Could it be? Wide eyes turned upward as if begging the sky for help. Poor Pico was in the middle of all the chaos.

  Hurdling down the wooden steps, Alex leapt into the fray, emerging behind Pico. When Alex grabbed a shoulder, the boy cringed as if expecting a beating. When none came, he looked up. “You?”

  Alex put a finger to his lips and nodded. He pointed to the bell tower across the square. Nodding, Pico grabbed hold of Alex's rope belt. Keeping the smaller boy in tow, Alex rushed over the fo'c'sle with the rest of the crew.

  The whooping pirates shook their swords as they charged toward Bartholomew's ship. The next few moments were critical. Alex would need to turn at the last second and keep low to escape.

  “Argh!” Alex cried, trying to sound like a mean pirate. He grabbed Pico's hand and counted off several storming sailors. “Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen…” When he got to twenty, he turned away, pulling Pico behind him. Swallowing hard, Alex pulled his sword from its sheath. No one was going to hurt Pico. He would strike anyone even daring to try.

  All of a sudden, Alex saw the strangest sight. It was a huge skateboard with double riders on that would have looked epic at the Volcom Games. The one in front held a Medusa-etched shield, while the skinny redhead behind her kicked furiously. Mars jogged beside the rolling pair, lance at the ready, while row after row of Italian Condotierri took up the rear.

  He almost called out, but the pirates at his back would realize who he was. Instead, he waved his sword.

  The snake-headed Medusa on the shield opened her mouth in a grating screech.

  Alex skidded to a halt. “Hey, it's me. Stop!” he cried.

  The gorgon's eyes glowed, ready to turn him to stone.

  Alex turned Pico's head away and pivoted ninety degrees. “No!”

  Meanwhile, Mars drew closer, his lance pointed straight at Alex's chest.

  Chapter 71

  “Mars, Medusa, no!” Gwen cried, skidding to a halt. “It's Alex!”

  Medusa closed her eyes while the war god wrenched his spear upwards, stopping only millimeters in front of Alex, who froze and stared at the quivering blade. “Hey, I thought we were on the same side,” he accused, wrapping a protective arm around the small boy behind him.

  “Maybe if you weren't so ugly, we'd know that.” Gwen stepped off her skateboard and cuffed him gently on the shoulder.

  Alex removed his tasseled cap and chuckled. “Better?”

  Gwen nodded appreciatively. “Still revolting, but not so bad.” She glanced down at the trembling boy at his side. He looked like a mini-Alex with the same dark curly hair and wide brown eyes. Except, the smaller edition had a mousy nervousness totally unlike her bud.

  “Gwen, meet Pico. He's the one who helped rescue Mona Lisa.”

  “Hey,” Gwen said.

  The pitiful thing shifted nervously from one foot to the next. “Buongiorno.”

  “Yeah, and hola to you.”

  “That's Spanish, Gwen, not Italian,” Alex corrected.

  “Whatever.”

  When Mars cleared his throat, the three of them turned to him. “Are we here to converse or fight?”

  “We fight Redbeard,” Alex said.

  “Yeah, well, come on. Let's get to it,” Gwen said, rolling her skateboard back and forth with one foot. “Mr. Clean can't fight all of them alone.”

  Alex looked down at little Pico and exchanged a glance with Gwen. “First gotta get this guy to safety.”

  “But I can help,” Pico protested.

  “No, no,” Alex said. “We went through too much to rescue you.”

  Pico's face scrunched up, and he looked back and forth from Gwen to Alex. “You mean, all this was for me?”

  “Sure.” Gwen shrugged. “Who else?”
r />   Pico gave a long sniff and wiped his eyes with the back of a filthy sleeve. Gwen's heart went out to him. His oversized clothes were tattered and stained. Grime streaked his cheeks, and he was so thin the wind could have blown him over.

  “So you see why we gotta tuck you away. Right?” Gwen asked.

  “Yes.” Pico snuffled. He leapt at Gwen and threw his arms around her waist.

  With Pico still hugging her tightly, Gwen waved a few Condotierri to join them and asked the soldiers to take the boy inside the Doge's palace with Mona Lisa for safety.

  “We'll see you when this is over, okay?” She removed his arms from her waist.

  Pico grinned and gave a quick wave as the Italian military men escorted him into the palace. Next, Alex called the Condotierri. “Squads One through Six, circle around behind these columns with me. Everyone else block the palace entrance with Gwen. Let's go.”

  With Athena back in place on the long skateboard, Gwen gave a quick salute to the already running Alex and kicked off.

  The sun was lighting the night sky, making it easy to see most of the pirates now. The plan was to herd them into Saint Mark's Square with two groups of Italian soldiers fanning out on either side of Mars and Athena. That way, the corsairs would have nowhere to turn but the plaza where the rest of the Artanian army was waiting.

  Gwen rolled to the same corner of the palace she'd hidden in a short while ago and watched the pirates scramble for the ship. An early morning breeze picked up and whipped through Gwen's ragged hair.

  She couldn't help but smile.

  Chapter 72

  Captain Sludge adjusted his long cloak and grimaced, remembering how the correction chamber spray had scalded his back—remembering Lord Sickhert's piercing eyes adding disgrace to his pain. “Mona Lisa may be lost, but I will not return to my lord empty-handed,” Sludge muttered before turning to his second in command. “Mudlark-Maker is hungry,” he said in a louder voice.

  “For pirates?” Stench asked, raising one eyebrow.

  “Redbeard and his scheming brother will be a satiating snack for our morphing comrade.”

  “Yum!” Stench chuckled.

  “Lie to me, will he?” Sludge sneered. “That Deliverer wasn't dead. He probably escaped.”

  “We get 'em, yeah?” Stench asked, his dark mud eyes turning to quicksand gray.

  “Yes, and we shall reward them for their excellent service. Idiots! I can't wait to see them in Mudlark-Maker's arms.”

  “They scared tell you, boss.”

  “Rightly so. If I had known…” Sludge flared his piggish nostrils. “Come. Let us make a new door … a trap door.”

  Using scent to guide them, Captain Sludge led the way through the labyrinth of Subterranean tunnels. Stench made jokes about how scared the Barbarossa brothers would look when they were captured. Alas, even the cruelest one did not make Sludge smile. He had failed.

  Every jack-booted step through the lava tube tunnel felt as heavy as lead. The torches in the smooth obsidian walls flickered their disapproval like Sickhert's searing eyes, burning into him.

  Sludge came to a halt and gave a long sniff. “Redbeard will pay.” He pointed at the cavern ceiling inches above his slimy head. “Here.”

  Removing a long club from beneath his black cloak, Stench dropped to one knee. When he tapped the ground three times, a hole opened in the floor. Next, he drew a square shape in the air and a wooden trap door appeared overhead.

  Sludge slipped a black-bladed dagger from the top of his boot. Using one arm to steady the other, he scratched an ancient symbol into the wood. He stood back and watched the etching swell until a world covered in mud took form.

  “It is as it was in the beginning,” Captain Sludge said reverently, reciting the story all Shadow Swine knew. “Like that glorious time when Kandart smeared water and ash over the cave painting of the first artists.”

  This act had birthed his race. Now Sludge used this symbol to lay a trap.

  And capture two betraying pirates.

  Chapter 73

  Alex glanced at the rising sun and suddenly felt terribly tired—old for his twelve years. With a heavy sigh, he squared his shoulders and sprinted to catch up with the others.

  Gwen rolled a few feet ahead, Medusa's shield in hand. Beside her, Bartholomew wore that goofy puppy grin he sported whenever he was part of a team.

  The two of them looked ridiculous: a Raggedy Anne holding a shield as big as she was and a white-suited cowboy waving a scimitar in the air like a lasso. “There they are!” Bartholomew cried, pointing across the plaza.

  Sure enough, the Barbarossa brothers were crouched behind a bell tower dodging flying arrows. No more cocky sneers for Redbeard. Now, his mouth twitched as he clung to his brother. He whispered something in Hizir's ear, and both made a dash for the nearest street.

  Bartholomew gripped his sword tightly and turned to Alex. “Ready, buddy?”

  “You know it,” Alex replied. Gripping his lance tighter, he took his place on the other side of Gwen who had hopped off her skateboard.

  Gwen lifted her shield, and the snake-headed Medusa in its center screeched.

  Grabbing his brother's paisley sleeve, Redbeard turned at the Gorgon's caterwaul and came to a dead stop. Lower lip quivering, his ruddy skin turned as pale as his victims' bones.

  His brother was not so easily frightened. Hizir's eyes narrowed. “So the Deliverers try once again to defeat the Barbarossa brothers.”

  “In case you hadn't noticed, we beat you hours ago,” Alex said, relishing each word. “With no ship, nowhere to go, and no help, you are triple losers.”

  “Now it's time for your shadowy walk over the Bridge of Sighs.” Bartholomew pointed past the Doge's Palace with his scimitar.

  “To the Piombi Prison, where you'll spend the rest of your days.” Gwen smiled, flashing her Halloween braces.

  With a conspiratorial glance, the pirates took a step backwards. “Now!” Redbeard cried. Brandishing a dagger, Hizir drew his arm back. There was an evil glint as the knife whizzed through the air.

  Right at Gwen.

  Alex tripped. Fell to his knees.

  Time seemed to slow, but not like during the creation process. This was like a horror movie. All Alex could do was watch the blade tumble end-over-end, ever closer. Gwen raised her shield. There was a loud thwack, and one of Medusa's snakes hissed in agony. Gwen stumbled forward.

  In the confusion, the brothers dashed toward Saint Mark's Basilica. Alex pursued them until suddenly, the Barbarossa brothers disappeared. Headless turbans fluttered, but both pirates were gone.

  “What the—” Alex gasped, racing forward and skidded to a halt short of a swinging trap door. He immediately thrust out his lance to keep his friends from falling into the hole. He started to speak, but what he saw next silenced them all. Two deflated turbans lay on the cobblestones like skinned rabbits. Next to them, a wooden door hung from a square hole creaking ever slower with each swing.

  Alex bent down and peered below. A rotten egg smell wafted from the opening. He wrinkled his nose as torch after torch flickered and died underground in the long, winding tunnel. Then the screams began, turning Alex's blood to ice.

  An eerie voice echoed. “I am Mudlark Maker,” it said as Redbeard begged for mercy. “I devour creations.”

  Redbeard kept squealing, haggling, bargaining, bartering—anything to escape. Alex knew the pirate's begging would do no good. In moments, both brothers would be swallowed by that mud monster and made into Mudlark zombies. He exchanged a glance with Bartholomew. His friend shook his head. “They would have been better off in the Piombi Prison.”

  Alex nodded. Suddenly the shrieks stopped. The ground rumbled, hot gasses spewed from the hole, and the trap door closed.

  The Renaissance nation was safe again.

  Chapter 74

  Gwen cheered along with everyone else until her cries turned into a long yawn. Man, she was wiped. Not only had she stayed awake all night, but she ha
dn't sat down once, skateboarding and fighting the whole time. She rubbed the cramp spasming down her calf.

  Leonardo hobbled to where Alex and Bartholomew were exchanging high-fives. “You youngsters look like an old anatomy study left in my studio,” he remarked with a giggle.

  Gwen thrust her fists into her hips. “Is this how you repay us? With insults?”

  “But he's right,” Bartholomew argued. “You both look like some sort of taxidermy experiment gone wrong.”

  “Okay, and you don't look like you're ready for the cover of GQ, Mr. Clean,” Gwen shot back.

  Bartholomew glanced down at his soiled and torn slacks and laughed. He pointed at Alex whose curly hair was sticking up in wild directions.

  Gwen made twirling curls with her fingers and guffawed.

  “It is time to rest.” Leonardo put an arm around the boys' shoulders. “You deserve it. Come. Rooms await us in the Doge's palace.”

  “Sleeping in a castle doesn't sound too bad.” Gwen bobbed her head. “But I don't know for sure. Is it next to the prison, Alex?”

  “What?”

  “Can I trust you? Or will I wake up behind bars?”

  “Only if you keep making fun of me.” Alex hit her playfully with the back of his hand. “Because, in case you hadn't noticed, I am…” He rubbed his knuckles against his t-shirt as if polishing his fingernails. “…one amazing kid.”

  “Yeah, right.” Gwen rolled her green eyes and punched him back.

  Chuckling, they entered the palace for a long, well-deserved nap.

  Chapter 75

  The sounds of distant drums woke Bartholomew. Blinking repeatedly, he rolled over in the huge canopied bed and glanced at the checkered pattern on the marble floor. He barely remembered where he was when scurrying feet and giggling joined the far-off music.

  Alex rushed into the room and took a flying leap onto Bartholomew's bed. “Get up!”

  “Yeah,” Gwen hooted, right on his heels. “Wake up, sleepy head. It's time to celebrate!” She skipped across the room, vaulted up on the silk bedspread, and hopped in a circle around them.