The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure)

by Singel, N. M.

  “Did you know my father?” Blake asked. He felt dizzy.

  The man gently ran his hands over the wooden box again. “Well, Mr. Wyatt, let’s just say we were . . . business associates.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? My dad wasn’t in any business.”

  “My apology. You are correct, in part. He was, by far, the best sapphire traveler who ever lived. I was very saddened to hear what happened to him. Oh, yes, yes, yes, very sad indeed.”

  Blake felt his face redden. Sweat from his hands moistened the vinyl stickers on his notebook’s cover.

  “Set your things down, young man.”

  Blake tossed his rarely opened history text onto the nearest desk and tried to shake off a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Who are you?”

  “That’s not important. We have pressing issues at hand. I need to tell you about your father.”

  “Look, dude, I don’t know who you are or why you’re in my history class, but there’s nothing I don’t already know about my dad.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Blake shivered. What did this guy know about his father? And why would his mother keep it a secret from him? “You know my mom, too?” he whispered.

  “Of course. The beautiful Madeleine Eleanor Wyatt,” the old man said, slightly singing her name. “You’ve inherited her blond curls.”

  “She never said anything about you.”

  “That’s because of quite a long story, which will be saved for a more opportune time. But for now we must hurry.” The old man pulled a silver, tarnished pocket watch from his jacket. “We’re losing precious minutes. I must say, I am just a bit surprised. I thought you’d be ready by now.”

  “For what?”

  “Maybe I should start over in case you missed my untimely introduction during your recent nap,” he continued at a faster pace. “My name’s Le--I mean, Hugo Price. I’m not a substitute teacher, at least not a teacher in the way that you think. I, too, am a traveler, and I have come a long way to speak to you.”

  Blake watched the old guy blow his nose and clear some major loogie from his throat.

  Maybe Price is nuts. Maybe I should make a run for it, report him to the principal’s office or call the cops or something.

  But this guy was vaguely familiar, as though Blake had met him somewhere. Where? Hugo Price smiled and opened the old box.

  “Whoa, what’s that?” Blake asked, looking down at the most killer book he’d ever seen. It was large and gold and radiated light like someone had flipped on a switch. The etching on the cover looked like the solar system chart in his science class, but each planet was a different, sparkling jewel. “That, young Wyatt, was your father’s legacy and soon will be yours, too.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re about to receive a great gift, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “This was my dad’s?” Blake asked, reaching down to claim the awesome text. But Price grabbed his wrist.

  “Ah-ah-ah! This is the Chronicle of the Rellium, young man. You can’t simply touch it.”

  Blake pulled back his hand and sized up the man again. Was this a joke? Like yesterday when Trevor had tied a braided leather band around his head and told everyone that he just found out he was a Navajo Indian? Trevor kind of looked like an Indian, tall, long brownish-colored hair to the middle of his back. He definitely wasn’t an Indian, but some of the girls actually believed him.

  This was different. No way could Trevor have pulled off a practical joke this big. Mr. Mancuso had never missed class before, and this chronicle thing was definitely way over-the-top cool. Besides, Trevor knew better than to joke about his father.

  “Okay, so say I believe any of this stuff. How come you didn’t talk to my mom first?”

  “Oh, no, no, no. She wouldn’t want you to have this. No, indeed,” the old man said. “Your mother has endured great hardships and sacrifices so you would never have to suffer the same fate as your father. But she also knew that eventually this day would come. Yes, yes, yes, poor thing, always wondering when I would come for her boy.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Your destiny is today. Exciting, isn’t it?”

  “Wait a minute here. I don’t know what the heck you’re talking about with all this destiny stuff. And I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know who you are.”

  “Are you sure you don’t know who I am?”

  “Dude, I’m sure.”

  “I can tell you that your Uncle Leopold gave up everything to save you.”

  “All right, first of all, I don’t have an Uncle Leopold, and even if I did, why would he have to save me?”

  “Your legacy has been a secret guarded by your mother with every shred of her being.” Price rubbed his wiry beard. “Your father lived a very dangerous life, Blakemore. Uncle Leopold was your father’s brother. He protected the Chronicle of the Rellium after your father met his misfortune. You were sent into hiding to protect you from--Well, enough about that for now.”

  “You’re clownin’ me, right?” Blake’s stomach tightened into a rock.

  “No, my young friend. I am not ‘clowning’ you. It is time for the truth.” The man looked into the box. “Your father was a sapphire traveler, and you, Blakemore Wyatt, will be one, too, once the connection to the Rellium is made, of course.”

  “Of course,” Blake said, still not believing one word of the guy’s hooey. He glanced out the window and tried to digest this stupid story about his father but only ended up with more questions. He turned back to the man. “What did you say your name was again? And what’s a fire traveler anyway? I’ve never heard of that.”

  “It’s sapphire traveler and of course you haven’t. No one who lives in the present knows of the time travelers. You see, Mr. Wyatt, your father is just a link in a long chain of travelers. All the Wyatts have been travelers. They’re entrusted to . . .”

  The man began to cough again. “Pardon me, I am not yet accustomed to your cool autumnal weather. As I was saying, sapphire travelers are entrusted to protect the power of the Rellium, but a sapphire traveler’s life is a torturous one. Each day is filled with the anticipation and the agony of another journey, but the rewards are--Let’s save that for another day. It all depends on--” The man coughed again. “I have something in my throat. Perhaps a spot of elixir would solve the problem.”

  “Rellium?” Blake glanced at the glowing text.

  “Very simply, the Rellium is the energy of everything that has happened since the beginning of the universe all the way to the end of time. It’s all chronicled in this book.” He continued patting his dirty jacket until he found a metal flask stuffed into an inside pocket. “Oh, yes, this will do nicely.” He opened the flask and smelled the concoction. “You are a lucky boy, indeed, Mr. Wyatt.” He tossed back a mouthful of the liquid. “You’re about to enter into a very special fellowship.” He eyed Blake as though entrance into this weird, secret club required a confidential and wordless agreement. “Do we understand each other?”

  Blake frowned. “Sure,” he said uncertainly.

  “Good. Your journey will begin when--”

  “What journey? I have football practice after school, and like I said before, I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  The man laughed. “Football practice? You’re not going to football practice. Besides, you said you were abandoning your team.”

  Blake’s eyes widened. Who besides Trevor knew he was quitting the team? “Look, dude, not sure where you got your information, but that’s just wack. The coach’ll make me sit out the game on Friday if I miss practice.”

  “You apparently didn’t understand anything I just said. This is a great gift, Blakemore Wyatt, and besides, you don’t have a choice.”

  “What?”

  “Your legacy was written before you were born.”

  Blake folded his arms and again stared at the rising steam from the cafeteria. This was totally nuts. No way could any of this be true, but th
e book was real, and it was totally cool. He admired the chronicle again. Maybe the book did belong to this Uncle Leopold guy. But if he could sell it on the Internet, maybe he could get enough money to buy that new video game Razeraction before Trevor got it first. “All right, first of all, how do you know my real name? No one knows it.”

  “And why is that?”

  “’Cuz it’s stupid.”

  “Stupid? Hmm.” Price flipped open his pocket watch again. “Curious that you’d be embarrassed by such a courageous and selfless title. Your father gave you that name, you know. It means ‘out of the darkness comes the light.’”

  He gasped. He had never known anything about his name or that his father had-

  “Anyway,” he said weakly, “I like Blake better.”

  “Does ‘Wyatt’ meet your approval?” the old man asked, viewing him over the top of his little glasses.

  “Yeah, Wyatt’s okay, I guess.”

  The old man sighed. “Blakemore, you are a Wyatt. Do you have any idea what that means?”

  “Yeah, it means my mom’s poor, and I have to work my butt off to have any money to get what I want.”

  The old man took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with his dirty handkerchief. “So is this how you judge people’s character? By how much money they have?”

  “Well, no, not really, it’s just that you need money to buy stuff.”

  “Of course you do,” the old man said, and returned the glasses to his face. “Do you want to know what Wyatt really means?”

  “I guess.”

  “Almost two thousand years have passed since the first Wyatt took her place in the Rellium,” the old man said. “She was Celtic nobility and very beautiful. Many princes wanted her hand in marriage, wooing her with expensive gifts and hosting public matches of swordsmanship to impress her. She rejected all their overtures except for one--Prince Donovan Wyatt. He ruled a small, peaceful commonwealth in what came under England’s rule but is now Pérouges, France. The wedding was lavish, and many people from all over his Alpine kingdom brought gifts for the couple. One gift, however, was unlike any other.”

  “Let me guess,” Blake said sarcastically. “This book.”

  The old man shook his head and glanced out the window. “No. It was a gold ring, Blakemore, engraved ‘past, present, future.’ No one knew who had sent the gift. When the new bride slid it on her finger, she knew exactly who had sent the gift and where to find them. The electromagnetic alloys in the ring guided her directly to Saphir Pré.”

  “Where?”

  “Saphir Pré, Sapphire Meadow, where all the grass is sapphire blue. But it wasn’t the color of the grass that pulled her into the lush field. It was this book, the Chronicle of the Rellium, shining as brightly as it is now, perched on a boulder in the middle of the meadow. She picked up the chronicle and took her place as the first sapphire traveler, vowing to protect the Rellium for the rest of her life. She was the first Wyatt, the Defender, the Guide, the Protector. I’d say that’s quite a name you’ve inherited.”

  Blake looked up at the clock. He had to get out of there, even if he had to hurt this Price guy’s feelings. The old man was talking like he was losing it. “Hey, uh, I’m gonna miss lunch. Can we talk about this book thing later?”

  The old man studied Blake’s face. “You have your father’s eyes. I hope you have his heart as well, Blakemore.”

  “Blake,” he corrected.

  “Fine, Blake. Now, hurry we must.”

  “Like I said, I gotta get going, but if I’m supposed to go somewhere, I mean, if this is so important, I at least have to tell my mom and Coach Ritter. Besides, my sister usually waits for me after practice.”

  Hugo Price gasped. “Sister? You have a sister?” He slowly sank into a chair next to the teacher's desk.

  “Uh, yeah, since I was two,” he said.

  The man swallowed hard. “Eleven years have passed since we lost your father. Good gracious, that is possible. Where is this sister?”

  “I don’t know--probably in class. I guess Uncle Leopold didn’t tell you about her.”

  The man stood and paced briefly. “I need to find her!”

  “Why? Does she get a book, too?”

  A loud knock interrupted them. The old man shot a look at the door as his skin blotched with red patches.

  “Blake, listen to me very closely. It is extremely important that you not open the Chronicle of the Rellium. If you do, there will be severe consequences for you and your family. You don’t yet understand its power or those who are trying to--”

  The knock came louder. Hugo Price snapped his pocket watch open again. He muttered strange gibberish under his breath as sweat rolled off his wrinkled forehead.

  “Hey, Mr. Price, relax. It’s probably just some kid from the next class,” he said, walking toward the door.

  “Forget the door! They could be coming for--!”

  “I just think you should sit down. You look kinda … bad.”

  The old man grabbed his arm. “Blake, listen! This book is very powerful and very dangerous if it falls into the wrong hands. You need to be told about--”

  The door exploded open. Principal O’Connor stood among several policemen and Mr. Mancuso, who shouted, “That’s the man!”

  One of the policemen strode into the classroom and grabbed the frail old guy by his upper arm. “Please come with me, sir. We need to speak to you.”

  “Of course you do,” he said to the policeman before he turned his head in Blake’s direction. “Do not open it, Blake. He will find you if you do.”

  “Who?” Blake asked.

  “Now!” The policeman said, pulling Price from the classroom.

  Blake listened for a short time to the group forcing the old man down the hall. Then he turned back to the box. What could be making the book glow like that? He wanted to touch it, find out what was making it light up, maybe locate a battery pack attached to it somewhere.

  He closed the door and eyed the box that contained his weird inheritance. Price told him not to open the book, but so what if he did? It belonged to him. What could be so dangerous about a book?

  He reached down and muscled the heavy text out of the box, admiring the glistening jewels on the iridescent cover. The thing had to be worth a fortune. He rested it on a desk and ran his fingers across each jewel. Whatever was written in this book must be pretty important. Maybe he’d just peek inside. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

  He gently peeled back the cover. It was the biggest mistake of his life.

  CHAPTER 2

  THE TOLUCAN

  Imperial Regent Dagonblud, tall, imposing, with black waves of hair cascading down his back, sat on the dais and looked down in disgust. Swirling the last gulp of coriane tea around his mouth, he flicked a piece of lint from his red velvet sleeve. He swallowed the warm, green liquid and assessed the power-hungry barbarians below him. Generals brayed and croaked about ridiculous battle details, and high commissioners manipulated land deals, carving up the globe like a piece of meat. The grand assembly debates were nothing but empty-headed blather.

  Dagonblud ran his long index finger over his eyebrow, trying to tame the bushy growth. He checked his fingernails for dirt and stood, thinking. Democracy was done for the day. He raised his empty magenta-colored goblet above his head and then hurled the priceless chalice to the gray stone floor, sending a spray of shards in all directions.

  “Enough! You imbeciles are a disgrace to the Tolucan Empire.”

  Eight hundred and fifty generals and high commissioners quieted. The indignant leader waited, unblinking, still, indestructible, until every voice was silent and every head turned toward the most powerful chair in the chamber--his own.

  “Are you all brainless about what’s at stake here?” he demanded. “Ultimate power is within our grasp, and you pollute this chamber with nonsense. Idiots! The whole lot of you!” Dagonblud’s resounding voice echoed down the giant spiral of seats and into every ear in the
chamber. “Soon history will be ours. Do you know what that means? When we control history, we control the future!”

  He looked around the great hall and collected his anger. “The Wyatt problem has been eliminated. The conquest of history begins tonight. One of our best operatives is aboard Columbus’s flagship. The Santa Maria, however, will not find the North American continent, nor will the other two ships traveling with her. Christopher Columbus will be erased from the Chronicle of the Rellium, and the transformation of the future will begin.”

  A small pool of whispers flowed through the chamber. Dagonblud focused on the sound and scouted for the offenders. Two generals, quietly talking, looked up.

  “Clearly, as generals of the Tolucan Grand Assembly, you would direct your full attention to this matter,” Dagonblud fumed. “However, other issues are apparently more important to you than complete control of the future!”

  The imperial regent spat into his hand. The assemblage gasped, and the officers near the two generals scrambled out of the path of the impending destruction. An unnatural force spun in Dagonblud’s hand as the deadly saliva gathered intensity. He blew the storm at the doomed men. The lethal vapor enveloped the violators and consumed their bodies, leaving only empty, limp uniforms where they had sat.

  “Would anyone like to discuss my decision to remove those men from the grand assembly?”

  Dead silence followed Dagonblud’s question. “That’s what I thought.” He returned to his seat. “Now let’s begin the festivities.”

  Tolucan drumming started near the lower end of the spiral, and soon every hand pounded the great twisted table in celebration of Tolucan victory. Satisfied, Dagonblud allowed a triumphant smile to curl along his brutish lips. After centuries of planning, the conquest of human history was mere hours away.

  “Your Excellency,” a weak voice whispered from behind.

  Dagonblud turned to find his pale, jittery servant, Ickbarr, bowing his head. “What now?” he snapped.

  The dismal scrawny man knelt on one knee. “My apologies, sir, but I have word of great importance.”