Will Wilder

by Raymond Arroyo

  In the Keep, Will ogled the eighteen-inch-high reliquary containing the finger of St. Thomas. A central base, like the bottom of a chalice, supported a clear rock-crystal tube through which Will could see the saint’s distressed finger bone. Atop the transparent crystal, a dome of rounded gold was capped by a small cross, finishing the reliquary.

  Twinkling white lights suddenly appeared in the corners of the small room. Will blinked a few times, trying to clear his eyes, but the lights seemed to pulsate with intensity, remaining on the edges of his vision. Will decided to ignore the light show and riffled through Jacob Wilder’s green notebook until he came to a sketch of the Keep. It read simply:

  THE KEEP

  Locks three.

  One key.

  Faith shows the way; then you may flee.

  Will strode over to the small golden door on the far side of the Keep—the same door he had seen from inside St. Thomas Church. Three locks held it shut. At the center of the gleaming door was a single, tiny keyhole. And next to the door, a cutout in the wall like an inset bookshelf held twelve delicately carved keys.

  Which key will get me out of here? “One key.” But which one?

  Will studied the keys: one longer, another shorter, one slightly fatter. Their teeth seemed to be almost identical—any one a possible fit.

  With Leo Wilder’s assistance, his mother boxed up her camera and lighting equipment in the main hall at Peniel. Having collected footage of Elijah’s mantle, Deborah attempted to corral her children. All the while, she punched up Aunt Lucille’s number on her cell phone.

  “Lucille, I’m almost finished here. I should be at St. Thomas’s in the next fifteen minutes or so,” she said into the phone. “Did you locate Will?”

  “I’m still on my way to the church. The river is a mess today—we’ll probably arrive at nearly the same time,” Aunt Lucille squawked through a static-filled connection. “I didn’t mean to alarm you earlier, dear. If Will is planting, I’m sure he’s okay.”

  “When has Will ever done what he was told to do, Lucille?”

  “With a shovel and a few trees, how much trouble can he get into? He’s fine, Deb.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’m packing up my stuff. We’ll meet you at the church soon. And I have to ask you about this Valens. What a sweet guy…” Deborah fell silent upon seeing a worried Cami Meriwether wander into Bethel Hall. “Lucille, I had better go.” She hit the “end call” button.

  “Cami, what’s wrong, honey?” Deborah Wilder asked.

  Cami Meriwether had a dazed expression on her face. She tugged at her ponytail and looked away. “I should have called you yesterday, Mrs. Wilder. I’ve been trying to call Will all afternoon, but he’s not picking up his phone.”

  “What’s the problem? What’s going on?” Now Deborah looked worried as well.

  “Since yesterday, my brother, Max, has been repeating something.”

  “What, Cami? What is he repeating?”

  The girl shook her hands at her sides as if trying to release her guilt and spill the goods. She spoke in a rush. “He had a dream. And he told me yesterday that in his dream he fell into the water and that a sparkly gold treasure was taken from a gray castle. Well…Will told me that he was planning to break into St. Thomas Church to borrow the relic—the one I guess his great-grandfather put there.”

  Deborah Wilder’s mouth gaped in shock. “You’re kidding me!”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not. He and Simon and Andrew were meeting at the church this morning. I wouldn’t go with them.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “I just thought it was one of Will’s harebrained schemes. I actually forgot all about it. But when the pier collapsed this morning, Max and a bunch of the kids from his camp fell into the water—just like he had said. Max is fine. They got him out quickly and took him to the hospital. He’s okay, but it made me think about what he had said…about his dream.”

  “What else did he say?” Deborah asked.

  Leo came around the mantle’s display case to listen more closely. Even Marin stopped twirling and offered her full attention.

  “Max said the bad one took the gold treasure,” Cami confessed. “He called the bad one Sinestri. Does that mean anything?”

  Deborah tried to process what Cami was saying. “Sines…what? No, I’ve never heard of that. Are you saying Will is a bad one? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve been turning what Max said over and over. I told Will not to go after the relic. But he said he had to.”

  Deborah pulled out her cell phone again. After unsuccessfully trying to reach Will, she connected with Aunt Lucille, relaying everything Cami had told her.

  “The Sinestri? I must meet this boy Max,” Aunt Lucille said urgently. “He said the Sinestri took the gold treasure?”

  “Yes. What is this Sines-tee? You know who these Sines-tees are?”

  “Go to St. Thomas’s straightaway. If the Sinestri get the relic or Will, all will be lost.”

  “Lucille! What do you mean, all will be lost? Who are they? Tell me! Is Will in danger?”

  “We…My father spent his life fighting the Sinestri. We assumed they were vanquished, but they have returned. They’ll do anything to get the relic of St. Thomas.”

  “The relic Will is trying to steal? The one he might already have?” Deborah turned to her children. “Leo, take that lighting case. Marin, in the car, honey. Lucille, I’ll see you at the church.”

  “Deborah, you must be very careful….”

  Deborah ended the call. She thanked Cami for coming and brushed past the girl in a hurry, with Marin close behind.

  Cami looked very lonely in the vast hall. She folded her arms as if trying to warm herself after a cold blast. Leo grabbed the lighting case and started dragging it out of the museum. Near the exit he stopped, put the case down, and shifted his glasses on his nose. He calmly walked back to the exhibit holding Elijah’s mantle. With Cami watching, he removed the ancient mantle from the glass display, folded it in two, and placed it inside the sling, beneath his cast.

  “I may need it,” he told Cami, placing a finger to his lips. “Shhhhh.”

  Cami knowingly nodded. “You’re just like your brother.”

  Marin stomped back into Bethel Hall. She pulled on Leo’s cast. “Come on, you. Mom is waiting.”

  Leo picked up the lighting case again and made his way out of the hall. A tingling warmth ran through his right arm.

  “Locks three. One key. Faith shows the way; then you may flee.”

  Will dwelled on his great-grandfather’s words. But they failed to shed any light on which particular key he needed to escape the Keep. He intently inspected the twelve keys in the cutout next to the door—worried that selecting the wrong one might spring a trap or permanently lock him in. Some of the keys had figures engraved upon them. Others were stamped with minuscule crosses or Latin words he couldn’t understand.

  “Faith shows the way; then you may flee.”

  But how does faith show the way? Which is the key of faith?

  Will whirled around in frustration, furiously throwing his pith helmet to the ground.

  “Which is the key of faith?”

  He kicked the hat in anger, sending it spinning into the inscribed black granite slab on the other side of the room.

  The domed reliquary carrying St. Thomas’s finger stood between Will and the engraved stone. Light came into his eyes as he slowly read the words of the inscription: “Blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

  A tingling sensation started in his lower back, ran up his spine, and caused him to shudder. So many people believed in the power of this saint’s prayers even though they had never seen Thomas’s relic or touched it, he thought. Maybe the power of the Almighty could move through an old bone—or even through younger ones. He was filled with a new confidence. Focusing on the reliquary in the foreground, Aunt Lucille’s words came rushing back to him: />
  “My father would say, ‘A relic is a key to unlock our faith.’ ”

  And Mr. Shen told me, “The relic is a key that unlocks the faith.”

  Even dad said it was a key. It’s the relic! This is why only a Wilder can reach the relic and escape from the Undercroft. Only a Wilder would know that the relic is the key.

  Will scooped up his pith helmet and plopped it on his head. With two hands he grabbed the base of the reliquary. It was heavier than he’d imagined. Looking through the golden bars of the grate to the flooded chamber that held his friends, he called out, “I’ll be back. Remember, start swimming as soon as the water gets a little higher. You know what to do.”

  Simon responded, but Will was already advancing on the small golden door with the three locks. He pointed the tiny gold cross atop the reliquary toward the single keyhole in the door. It slid in with ease. He firmly turned it to the left.

  SHLANK. SHLANK. SHLANK. One by one the locks disengaged. Will separated the reliquary from the door. It instantly swung open.

  Ducking low, clutching the reliquary, Will scooted through the diminutive doorway and out into St. Thomas Church.

  AH-CHOO! The acoustics of the old church amplified the loud sneezes that ambushed him all at once. Will thought it might have been a reaction to the dust of the Keep or the fumes of the oily water in the other chamber. As annoying as the sneezes were, they did not slow him down.

  Outside, dark clouds rolled into Perilous Falls, and the river turned black. Choppy waves, as if stirred by some unseen hand, beat against the riverbanks. Even the waters seemed to be trying to escape the thing rising from its depths.

  Drizzle fell like tears from the heavens, staining all of Perilous Falls. Ignoring the mist, Will sprinted out of the church and headed home with the relic. He made it to the curb of Falls Road when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

  “Wilder. Will Wilder, I thought we had a deal, lad?”

  The voice seemed to come from all sides, as if a hundred megaphones were hiding in the trees. It was Captain Nep Balor. Will grimaced. He had forgotten all about the Captain. He knew Balor would want to see the relic before he took it to Leo—that had been their deal, after all.

  “Over at the river’s edge,” Nep Balor’s voice boomed.

  For a moment, Will considered running home, letting Leo touch the relic, and then showing it to the Captain on his way back to the church. What difference did it make if the Captain saw the relic now or later?

  “Will, the eye stings, lad. Are ye going to leave us blind forever? We showed ye the entryway to the Undercroft. We brought ye there safely. We got ye in.” There was a cry in Balor’s ravaged voice. “Don’t let us down like the others, boy. Please, Will.”

  Will shoved his lips off to the side, undecided about whether to run home or to the river.

  “Will, please. Just to see the relic would be enough.”

  The Captain’s pleadings were a powerful lure. It would take only a minute to press the relic to Captain Balor’s eye, Will thought, and then he’d be home in a flash. The boy changed direction and ran to the empty field next to the church. Clutching the domed gold reliquary with two hands, he stopped at the edge of the field, just beyond the stick he had planted. Looking down the slope to the river’s edge, he spotted the Captain.

  “That’s a good lad. Knew yeh’d honor yer word, boy.” Captain Balor stood in the water, which had risen higher than Will had ever seen it before.

  AH-CHOO! Will’s sneezes intensified.

  “Ye’ll catch yer death in this weather if yer not careful. That must be the relic.” Captain Balor’s good eye glistened at the sight. His gray tongue licked at his swollen purple lips.

  Whether it was the fog along the water or the misting rain, Will found it hard to see the Captain clearly. He blinked repeatedly and rubbed a wrist over his eyes, hoping to clear his vision. Balor appeared to be twice his former size. The Captain bucked back and forth as if writhing in some sort of pain, though his face betrayed nothing. The grimy raincoat covering his massive frame wriggled about. Is Captain Balor’s body shaking like that? Maybe the wind is moving the coat? Will couldn’t be sure. He squinted, straining for an unclouded view of the Captain.

  “Well, let us see it, lad. We’d like a closer look at the bone.”

  Will raised the reliquary in front of him, holding his position atop the embankment.

  The Captain smiled, his body continuing to quake violently. “Oooh, that be it. May we touch it now, Will?”

  AH-CHOO! A cold, stabbing fear ran through Will’s body. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to speak. He wished only to be home or even back in the church.

  “We had a deal, lad. Can’t even see the thing from there. Bring it closer.” Captain Balor’s voice sounded different. It was higher, even shrill. “I thought we promised to help one another. Have we ever failed yeh? Why are ye failing us now?” Balor’s voice then rumbled in a low belch. “Bring the bone closer.”

  A stench like the two-day-old tuna sandwich Will once found in his locker wafted up. AH-CHOO!

  “I’m feeling kinda bad, Captain. AH-CHOO! Let me run home and see my brother—dry off—and then I’ll come back and meet you here.”

  “How can ye go home after what yeh done? Yeh defied yer aunt Lucille, lied to yer parents, stole from Shen and the church.” Balor shook his head sadly. “They wouldn’t want to see a boy like ye. They’re probably at home right now—the lot of them—doting on your brother. They’re not giving yeh one thought, Will. Who’s been yer real friend in good times and bad?” The Captain pointed to himself.

  The words stung Will. But seeing the water rising around Balor, his mind leapt to Simon and Andrew still trapped in the Undercroft. “I have to get back to my friends in the church. They need my help.”

  “They need yer help? I need yer help! Did yer little pals show ye the way to the Undercroft? Did they know to enter at low tide? Did they distract Shen for yeh? We did that. We’re yer only friend, Will.” Balor opened his palms, raising them to the boy like a beggar. “A touch of the bone to this poor eye—that we might see again. Is that too much to ask?”

  AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO! Something deep within Will told him to stay where he was, to not descend down to the murky shallows Captain Balor occupied.

  “Yer just like the others. Just like Lucille, the priest, and that greedy Shen.” Captain Balor’s shoulders heaved up and down. It looked as if twelve people were holding a hula hoop contest under his coat. He seemed to be sobbing. “Ye care for no one but yerself. We should never have trusted yeh—NEVER.”

  Will felt guilty. Against his better instincts, still sneezing, he started down the hillside toward Captain Balor and the water’s edge. He slipped on the muddy incline, his backpack and rear sliding into the muck. He strained to find his footing, all the while holding the reliquary in the air with one hand.

  “Forget all about us. Break yer word! Break yer deal!” Captain Balor barked through tears, odd voices escaping his lips. “Who cares about an old blind riverboat pilot?” A beefy gray hand rose to cover his face.

  Will contritely approached Captain Nep Balor. The choppy waves excitedly lapped up toward the boy, as if they were pleased to see him. The sky overhead turned a deep charcoal.

  Will hesitated once he reached the shoreline, only a few feet from Balor. The closer he got, the harder it was for him to see the Captain. It made no sense to Will. It was as if he were walking into a dense, dark fog. AH-CHOO! AH-CHOO! The sneezes came faster and faster. And the stench made him want to gag.

  “Ye best be getting indoors. These wild waters ain’t for everybody. They’re alluring at first. But once ye put yer toe in, yer liable to get swept under. We’ve seen it happen many times, we have. Poor souls.” The dingy raincoat continued to undulate madly. “So may we touch the precious relic yer dear great-granddaddy hoarded for so many years?”

  Will held the reliquary in one hand down at his side, defiantly. “My great-grandfather on
ly built the church to protect it.”

  “He stole it! He was a thief from the beginning. He took it from—” The Captain suddenly sucked his bloated lower lip into his mouth. The diseased, tightly shut left eye twitched. When he spoke again, his voice dripped with sweetness and high tones. “Jacob Wilder did keep the relic safe, didn’t he? For that we are thankful. We mustn’t be ungrateful. Now let us touch it, lad.” The Captain extended an algae-covered cage in his direction. It reminded Will of an oversized crab trap. Attached to a metal rod, the mouth of the cage could be opened or closed by the Captain with a flick of his fingers. The cage’s jaws yawned, hungry for the reliquary.

  “That wasn’t our deal,” Will said, holding the golden artifact behind his back.

  “Ye said that we could touch it! Can’t very well touch the thing from afar.” Balor shook the cage emphatically.

  “I agreed to touch the relic to your eye, Captain. I didn’t say you could hold it.”

  A blackness washed over the Captain’s gaping eyeball. “How are we to press the relic to our poor wounded eye without holding it? Give it here!” Again he snapped open the metal cage.

  “I’ll hold the relic.” Will set his jaw. “You lean down and press your eye to it. Do you even believe that the relic can heal you?”

  Captain Balor’s body gyrated as if he were suffering some tremor—very likely caused by the seething anger that was evident on his face. “Is this how the little Wilder would like to make good on his promise? Will must hold the relic! Come closer then.”

  Will lifted the reliquary directly in front of his body with both hands. Captain Balor leaned in. When he was inches from the relic, Balor shifted his face to the left. The sick swollen eye, pus leaking from its rim, snapped open. A horrible beet-red orb with a green pupil bore down on Will. Its mere glance made him dizzy. He staggered backward, nausea rising up from the pit of his stomach. As Will fought to maintain his balance, a gray mass—a tentacle—smacked him hard across the jaw. The relic fell to the ground, as did Will.