The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure)

by Singel, N. M.

  Plodding closer to the banging, he felt his nose hairs tingle. Through the stench of decomposing animal remains, he detected the sweet, irresistible aroma of coriane. “How fortuitous!” He clasped his hands in triumph. Dagonblud most certainly left this tea for Rat.

  “Hurry!” she screamed. “They’re in my hair!”

  “Patience, my dear.” He choked back tears of relief. “I’m a bit slower these days.” Leopold braced himself against the hull as he limped from cask to cask--smelling each. One barrel stacked on another dripped liquid from the spigot. Angling his head under the tap, he twisted the lever. A surge of vigor empowered him as syrupy fluid coated his throat. He gulped down as much as he could and then gagged. “Better, indeed,” he said, wiping the runoff from his face with the back of his hand.

  “They’re crawling under my shirt!”

  High-stepping through the slop, he located the source of the pounding and then tapped on the trunk. “Erica?”

  “Open this thing!” she shrieked. “They’re biting me!”

  Jiggling the latch, he detected movement in the rotted wood. “I’ll have you out in no time.” He twisted and ripped off the lock.

  Erica flung the lid open, jumped out, and frantically swatted her hair. “Get ’em off! Get ’em off!” She cried, shaking her arms and legs while tugging at her clothes.

  “They’re just spiders, my dear.” Leopold brushed a few off her back.

  “Are they all off?” Erica slowed her spastic dance.

  “I believe so.” He picked a straggler from her shoulder. “We’ve got much bigger problems at present.”

  She twitched and then looked at the back of her arm. “Are you sure you got all of them?”

  “I certainly hope so.” He glanced into the trunk. “Did Rat do this to you?”

  She nodded. “I was looking for Blake. I know I shouldn’t have left the--”

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “A little.” She pulled a glowing stone from her pocket and opened her palm. “I tried zapping him like last time, but it didn’t work.”

  He took the nugget, and it instantly burned out. “To harness its extraordinary powers, you must maintain contact with the membrane rock and a jewel from the chronicle.” He gave it back to her. The brilliance returned.

  “It did do something weird in the cabin.” She stared at the gleaming stone.

  His heart skipped a beat. “What happened?”

  “These rocks made a window that wasn’t there before. I looked out and saw two bulldogs trying to cover up holes in purple grass. They had really weird sparkly fur--like glitter. ”

  “The Parabulls! Did they say anything?”

  “One said she needed help.” Erica pocketed the stone.

  “Dear heaven!” He steadied himself on the trunk. “The membrane’s collapsing faster than they can repair it!”

  “Does that mean we’re going to die?” she asked quietly.

  He turned to her. “Not yet.” A fierce thunderbolt illuminated and rocked the belly of the ship. Leopold smiled, feeling hope blaze up in his chest. “I believe the future just knocked on our door.” He plowed through the water toward the mainmast.

  “That Rat guy said I should be wood by now.”

  “Rat can’t turn anyone into wood.” He ran his hands up and down the pole. “Only the imperial regent can do that.”

  “Oh, now I feel better.”

  “We have to hurry. Columbus doesn’t have much time.”

  “But what about Blake?” Erica started to sob. “I saw bones in that dungeon.”

  Leopold walked back to his niece and held her. “The only way to help your brother is first to save the admiral. This nasty storm has given me a rather brilliant idea.”

  “What if Blake’s dead?” She wept, rubbing her eyes with her balled hands.

  He clutched her shoulders. “Listen to me, Erica. You must stay strong. I need your help for this plan to work.”

  She sniffled, her head down.

  “I know this is not easy.” He hugged her. “When the Tolucan captured your father, my world shattered into a million pieces. I grieved for months before I decided to do something.”

  “My brother can’t die,” she said, crying into his arm.

  “You must find the strength if you want to help him. The most difficult decision of my life was to cross through the membrane and become one of them.”

  She stepped back, her eyes widened. “You became a Tolucan?”

  “Yes, an unfortunate but necessary evil.” The ship lurched sideways, flinging them into a heap of barrels. Leopold dug her out of the pile. “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “I’m fine.” She glanced at her arms and legs. “Now tell me what to do to help Blake.”

  “Did you happen to see a rather stout fellow with keys on his belt wandering the ship?”

  She nodded.

  “His name is Diego. He’s the master-at-arms, like a policeman. He has the key that will unlock the admiral’s chains.”

  “How do we get it?”

  “Science!”

  “Like, this boat doesn’t even have a motor.”

  “The people of the fifteenth century were quite superstitious. Anything out of the ordinary terrified them.”

  “So that's our big plan? We're going to scare them?”

  “Precisely.” He sploshed back to the mainmast and looked up. “We need something that can conduct a strong electrical current.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t exactly see any place to plug in anything.”

  “That depends on what we’re plugging into.” He ran his hands along the damp wood. “Come here, my dear.”

  Erica trudged over. “How’s this going to help my brother?”

  “I need one of the membrane rocks.”

  “You’re not thinking that I’m going to--”

  “Indeed I am. You’re well acquainted with the stone’s power.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “Now you do.”

  The ship rolled in the raging seas, plastering Erica against the portside planks. “You said I needed one of the jewels from the chronicle to make it work,” she said, struggling to move back to the mast.

  “Mother Nature will be your jewel!” he yelled over the booming thunder as he reached out to snare her. “This horrific weather has turned the odds in our favor!”

  She grabbed his hand. “Like a gazillion to one.”

  “Put the stone in your hand and wrap your arms around this mast. It goes all the way up to that basket at the top of the ship. Don’t let go, no matter what!”

  She clutched a rock and hugged the pole. “What’s going to happen?”

  “St. Elmo’s Fire. It’s a corona discharge. Lightning will be attracted to the pole because of the stone’s energy. When it hits this mast, it’ll light up like a purple neon tower.”

  “What about me?” She readjusted her hands.

  “The stone will protect you. Just hang on.”

  “Now I’m scared.”

  A loud thunderclap cracked.

  “Erica! It’s working.”

  She looked up. “Wow! I can’t believe I’m doing that!”

  “Don’t let go! I’m going to get the keys from Diego. He must be petrified.”

  “Don’t leave me!”

  “Your brother and Columbus are depending on us.” He looked back at her and then climbed into the storm.

  CHAPTER 21

  BLOODLINES AND PROMISES

  Crumbled on a cold stone floor, Blake felt like a practice dummy for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Writhing in pain, he forced himself to one knee. Where was he? Sure not on Columbus’s ship.

  The last thing he remembered was Dagonblud glaring at him from the capsized dinghy, and then--bam!--he was here. Pain rocketed through his head. He touched his face and then glanced at his fingers. Blood.

  Looking around, a huge room, noiseless and still, came into focus. Really old things that belon
ged in a museum rested on shiny, black pedestals, arranged like a giant chessboard.

  Stumbling to his feet, he gulped a mouthful of musty air and gazed up. Most of the ceiling was covered with a gigantic five-sided window. An image of a half bird, half lion decorated the butterscotch-colored glass. Blake’s throat tightened as he stared at the same design that was on the wooden box under Mr. Mancuso’s desk. Amber light cast menacing shadows across eccentric antiques and foreboding statues.

  “Welcome to my home,” a deep, syrupy voice boomed through the cavernous room.

  Blake staggered backward. “Show yourself, Dragonbreath!”

  “Dragonbreath? Would your father approve of such name-calling?”

  “Where are you?” Blake challenged. “I want to see your ugly face.”

  A white pear-shaped urn with red leaves wobbled on a stand and then exploded.

  “Big deal! You can break a flower pot!” Blake slowly wove between the black columns.

  “Ming Dynasty, fourteenth-century China. Priceless, I’m told.”

  “Show your face! Or are you too chicken?”

  Laughter echoed through the room, winding around the pillars like a snake scouting for prey. “You do amuse me, Blakemore Wyatt. However, relics don’t give orders.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a relic now--one of my trophies. I’ve taken, or rather assembled, a most extraordinary collection of authentic treasures from your world. Most have been replaced with perfect imitations. Your kind is easily fooled.”

  “You don’t scare me!” Blake barked, feeling the hair stand up on his neck as he drifted backward. Scoping the room for an escape, he bumped into something big. He turned. A large, gold pedestal blocked his path. Squinting to read the engraved plaque, he swallowed hard. Blakemore Wyatt, The Last Sapphire Traveler. Behind the column, a shadow grew larger.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Blake whirled around.

  Dagonblud stood, eyes piercing. His red jacket buttoned up to his chiseled jaw.

  “I’m not gonna be the main attraction in your wacked-out museum.”

  “You’re hardly worthy of even being displayed in my gallery.” He raised his brow. “However, you are the last of your family tree, except, of course, your sister.”

  Stepping sideways, Blake knocked into another stand, smaller than the one meant for him. The shredded, soggy-looking Chronicle of the Rellium rested in a glass case. He gasped.

  Dagonblud caressed the enclosure with his long fingers. “I thought you’d enjoy that spot next to the great chronicle.”

  “Perfect.” He mumbled, gazing at the mangled text. “Spending eternity next to my biggest screwup.”

  “Let’s get on with it. I’m busy.” Dagonblud reached into his jacket and pulled out the black diamond. “I’m sure you won’t feel too much discomfort. Then again, I wouldn’t know.”

  Blake thought quickly. Maybe he could break the glass, salvage whatever strength was left in the book, and then whack Dagonblud with one of these freaky souvenirs. He wiped sweat from his face and felt his hand tingle. Examining his palm, a colored image developed beneath the dried blood--the Sign of the Ages!

  Dagonblud held out the black weapon, the facets shimmering in the dim amber light. He started to twist apart the halves but stopped when loud scratching echoed though the hall. He returned the diamond to his jacket and locked eyes with Blake. “In case your little mind was concocting a plan, know that escape is impossible.” He stomped through the huge room toward the disturbance.

  Blake scanned the room for a weapon. He spotted a rock on display a few columns away and darted to its pedestal. Snatching the gray stone, he paused briefly to read the plaque: Neil Armstrong, First Moonwalk--1969. “Whoa.” He thumbed a jagged crevice.

  The scratching intensified. He looked toward the sound and stuffed the rock in his pocket. Light streamed into the room, highlighting Dagonblud standing in a tall doorway.

  Blake looked for a place to hide. He dashed behind a suit of armor. He glanced at the marker. Who was Genghis Khan?

  A fidgety little man appeared under the arch mumbling apologies while bowing his head repeatedly.

  Dagonblud lifted the man’s chin. “Ickbarr, you little flea, can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Yes, sir, I know, sir. It’s just that Nura flew off her perch and opened the mirror. I tried to catch her, but she shot past me into the grand assembly. Frankly, sir, I didn’t know Nura could leave her wooden state without your help.”

  “She can’t! Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I really tried my best to catch her, sir.”

  “Shut up, Ickbarr! If this was your fault, you’ll beg for the dungeon as punishment.” Dagonblud brushed past Ickbarr and disappeared.

  Blake heard fast, heavy footsteps fade into the distance.

  Ickbarr continued to babble, shuffling through the exhibit hall, dusting relics with the sleeve of his black coat.

  Blake slinked around the armor, watching this bizarre person have a conversation with himself. He overheard something about a celebration and being overworked.

  Blake glanced back at the doorway and sized up his chances of ditching the creep castle. Now was the time to make his break. He began his silent slither from column to column. The exit was about twenty yards away, just a quick end-zone dash. Piece of cake on the football field, but this was way more than just a game.

  “Psssst.”

  Blake whirled around. Ickbarr continued to dust and mutter.

  “Above you,” a woman’s voice whispered intensely.

  Blake looked up. A weird-looking creature was perched on a peg, partially hidden by a beam on the ceiling. Maybe it was a bird, but it had a lion’s head. Then his heart dropped. She was the same as the picture on the window overhead and the carving on the box. She was real and was talking to him.

  “Stay out of sight and keep quiet.”

  Blake obeyed and slid behind a pedestal, hunkered down like a soldier in enemy territory.

  She landed next to his feet. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Her voice sounded sad. She glanced at the door. “Dagonblud will be back soon, and he’ll be looking for me.”

  “Am I supposed to know you?” Blake asked.

  She tilted her head slightly but didn’t speak.

  “Whatever, ya don’t have to tell me.”

  “I’m Nura.” She acted surprised by his question.

  “Who?”

  “Are you not Blakemore Wyatt?”

  “Yeah, but I wish I was not Blakemore Wyatt.”

  “Did Leopold not tell you about me?”

  “We didn’t have much time to hang out. It’s been a train wreck since I touched that book over there.”

  “Yes, I know. She’s never been so weak.”

  “This Rat dude totally trashed her.” He paused. “Why do you care anyway?”

  “I care more about the Chronicle of the Rellium than my own life.”

  “Then why are you people trying to kill us?”

  “Kill you? I’m one of you! I’m Nura Wyatt.”

  “Like my name Wyatt?”

  She nodded.

  “But, you’re a--”

  “I know.”

  Blake shivered. How could this lion-bird thing somehow be related?

  “Dagonblud made me this way.”

  “Did you used to be a person?”

  Nura nodded. “Two arms, two legs, long dark hair. I was once quite beautiful.”

  “What happened?”

  “Dagonblud used the black diamond to steal my power.”

  “So he made you look like this?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Connection to the Rellium gives me the power to manipulate matter into whatever form is necessary so I can protect Earth’s timeline. Dagonblud captured me during my transformation from a bird to a lion. He’s kept me this way for centuries.”

  �
��Why don’t you change back?”

  “He controls my powers here. We’re in Dagonblud’s world--the other side of the membrane.”

  “This isn’t Earth?”

  “No, Blake. Our scientists refer to this place as antimatter or dark energy. Dagonblud has absolute power here. Now he wants to use the black diamond to dominate your side of the membrane.”

  Blake stared at her. “My side?”

  “Earth, our home.”

  “Then why does he care about me?”

  “He doesn’t. He wants your power.”

  “I don’t have much of that anymore.”

  “May I see your hands?”

  Blake extended his palm. “Looking for this?”

  She nodded. “You were marked with the Sign of the Ages when the Parabulls connected you to the Rellium.”

  “Yeah, I remember touching the chronicle, then cruising over my school.”

  “You have no idea the extraordinary powers you possess.”

  “Then how can I change you back?”

  “Regretfully, until Dagonblud is stopped, my place is here.” She glanced at his hand. “That ring around your finger once belonged to me. It’s your pledge to protect the Rellium.”

  “Right. Already messed that up.”

  “We are judged by our scars, not our medals.”

  Blake touched his head. “Got a few of those.”

  “That’s why I’m here to help.”

  “You can start by getting me out of here.”

  “Precisely my intentions.” Nura glanced at the doorway. “We’d better hurry.”

  “What about my sister?”

  Nura didn’t answer.

  “She’s okay, isn’t she?”

  “We’re all in great danger. Dagonblud is perilously close to destroying Christopher Columbus’s place in history. The Parabulls could never repair such a catastrophic gap in the timeline. You, Blakemore Wyatt, are our last hope.”

  Blake gulped.

  “I need to get you back to the admiral’s ship. Unfortunately, the chronicle’s dying. She will be of little help, but remember her words, ‘A secret evil walks her deck and destiny almost dies.’”

  Blake’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

  “It was written in her pages long ago. Unless you fulfill your promise, the great book will remain a burial mound of the past, powerless to complete the future. With the protective membrane gone, nothing will be able to stop dark energy from invading our planet. Dagonblud will win.”