The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure)

by Singel, N. M.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “How do I get back?”

  “With a tempus.”

  “You mean that watch thingie?”

  Nura nodded. “A Tolucan timepiece. Dagonblud used the first one to rip through the membrane and bedevil our world long ago.”

  Blake lost his balance after squatting for several minutes and fell against the pedestal.

  “Shhh. Ickbarr’s feeble, but he hears like a deer in the woods.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  Nura watched Ickbarr for a few moments. “Wait here.” She flew into the shadows and quickly returned with a scuffed-up silver pocket watch.

  Blake took it from her talons.

  “Your uncle risked his life to get this tempus to me.”

  Blake examined the watch. “How do you use this thing?”

  “Open the cover.”

  He pried the small latch with his thumbnail until it popped open.

  “Do you see the three squares behind the clock hands?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do they show?”

  “The first box says seventeen seventy-six. The second says July, and the third has the number four.”

  “Oh, dear. That was the tempus your father used when Rat captured him.”

  Blake’s stomach tightened. “Rat killed my dad?”

  She shook her head.

  “Nura!” Dagonblud’s voice echoed in the distance. “I know you’re here somewhere!”

  “Listen carefully, Blake. To reset the tempus, you must first pull out the large plunger on the bottom.”

  “Should I do that now?”

  “Yes. Time will find you here.”

  “I can smell you!” Dagonblud’s voice sang closer.

  “Set the date to October twelve, fourteen ninety-two.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “Roll the knob by each box.”

  Blake turned the small metal nubs. “What am I supposed to do when I get there? I didn’t have anything to do with Columbus discovering America.”

  Nura stared at him. “How do you know that?”

  “There you are!” Dagonblud’s voice boomed as he burst into the room.

  Nura took off.

  “Wait!” Blake bolted after her. “You didn’t finish telling me--”

  A horrible squeal echoed through the hall. Blake stopped in his tracks.

  “Got her!” Ickbarr called out. He emerged with Nura firmly in his clutch. “Are you going to punish her again, sir?”

  “You touch her and--”

  “You’ll what?” Dagonblud yanked Nura from Ickbarr and then displayed her upside-down.

  She struggled, beating her wings against his coat.

  “I can turn her into soup if I so choose.”

  “Let her go!” Blake lunged forward.

  “Sir! He has a tempus!”

  “Don’t come any closer.” Nura flapped furiously. “The large knob!”

  “I can’t leave you!”

  “It’s our only chance!”

  Blake could do nothing to help her. He had to go back to finish what he had started. He pushed in the plunger. Click. The room vanished.

  CHAPTER 22

  THE LAST CHAMPIONS

  Erica pressed her cheek against the base of the huge, wet mast and squeezed tightly. Water dripped on her head from the deck above as the ocean leaked through gaps in the hull’s wood planks. She turned when she heard a splash near the ladder.

  “Bravo! Splendid job! Diego never suspected a thing.” Uncle Leopold sloshed toward her holding up a ring of keys. “Quite the storm out there.”

  “Did you get Mr. Columbus out of those chains?”

  “Not yet. I require your assistance.”

  “Oh.” Erica closed her eyes, trying to stop her head from spinning. “I don’t feel so good.”

  “Heavens, Erica, this is no time for seasickness.” He wiped her forehead with a damp, stinky handkerchief. “Try letting go of the mast.”

  She released her grip and shook out her arms. The membrane rock, tucked in her hand, flashed light through the cargo bay. “I want to go home.”

  “We don’t have that option, my dear. Unfortunately, we can’t stay here, either. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Most things worth doing are not easy.” Leopold wiped his face with the gross hanky. “Now let’s go free the admiral.”

  Erica tucked a bunch of her hair behind her ear. “Maybe I can sneak up there when no one’s looking,” she suggested as she clutched her stomach.

  “That’s the spirit. You’re small. Perhaps they won’t notice you. I’m going to head directly to the admiral’s cabin. When you release him, take him there as quickly as you can.”

  She waited for a wave of nausea to pass. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “You have to. Blake’s counting on you.” Leopold slogged past her and then climbed out the hatch opening.

  Erica took a deep breath, shoved the rock in her pocket, and followed.

  Leopold reached down. “Give me your hand.”

  She grabbed it.

  He pulled her onto the deck as he looked around at the crew. “We have a brief opportunity to see this plan through. Rat’s still under the quarterdeck with Diego. Let’s make this fast.”

  “Okay.” She focused on Columbus. He looked really bad. “Tell me again what I’m supposed to do.” She swallowed back puke rising in her throat.

  “Take these keys and unlock the admiral’s chains. I’ll secure the cabin.” Leopold whisked across the deck.

  “Wait! Which one is it?” Uncle Leopold didn’t hear her over the furor of the storm. She looked at the key ring briefly before scampering to Columbus. He was a mess, crumpled, soaking wet, and unmoving. Was he dead? “Mr. Columbus?”

  He didn’t answer.

  She shook him. “Admiral?”

  Columbus slowly opened his sunken eyes. “My child, you must have been sent by--”

  “Shhh, we have to hurry.” She tried several keys in the ankle shackles before one worked.

  “Please, my hands.”

  Erica tugged at the thick knot, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” a big guy shouted as he charged at them.

  “Just saving history, kind sir.” Uncle Leopold suddenly appeared. “I forgot about the knot,” he whispered, easily freeing the tangled rope.

  “Stowaways!”

  “Yes, yes, yes, stowaways, that’s what we are, just stowaways, nothing more,” said Uncle Leopold. “Please, just continue with your duties.”

  “Diego!” the guy yelled.

  Uncle Leopold slung Columbus’s arm over his shoulder, supporting him as they hobbled toward his cabin. “Quickly, Admiral.”

  Erica followed, pushing Columbus up the steps while Uncle Leopold pulled him from above. She scurried to the top, turned around, and then looked down. Rat stared at her. The guy that had the keys was making his way up the steps.

  “Hurry, my dear!” Uncle Leopold hustled Columbus into the cabin.

  Erica backed away, ducking to avoid a hurled fish, before squeezing into the room. “Someone’s coming.”

  Uncle Leopold jammed the bed against the door. “This may stop the crew, but we’ll need more than furniture to keep Rat out.”

  Knock, knock, knock. “It’s Diego, sir,” he called through the door. “Maybe I can reason with the other officers. They’re Christian men. Surely they’ll understand mercy.”

  “Careful, Admiral. It could be a trap.” Uncle Leopold slid the table next to the bed.

  Columbus coughed and limped to the door. “If you have any respect for yourself . . . and this great enterprise. . . allow me some time.”

  “I’ll try, sir.” After a short silence Diego said, “I still believe in you, Admiral.”

  Columbus lumbered to the chair and plopped down. “These men have no quarrels with me. They’re frightened by what they do n
ot know.”

  Uncle Leopold eyed the admiral’s filthy, wet clothes as he opened the trunk. He offered Columbus a clean shirt and pants.

  “Yes, of course.” Taking the garments, he motioned to Erica to face the other direction.

  “Sorry.” She blushed and turned to the wall.

  “An admiral should greet the Orient with dignity and grace,” Columbus said.

  Erica could hear him changing his tattered clothes. The soggy laundry landed in a pile near her feet.

  “I thank you, young lady.”

  Erica waited a few extra seconds before turning around.

  Columbus finished fastening his shirt as he looked at the chest on the table. “I hope my map was not taken when my logbook was stolen.” He flipped open the lid, sighed, and pulled out the document. “Possibly with this proof that we are near the end of our westward journey, my men will understand.”

  Uncle Leopold glanced at the yellowed paper flattened on the table. “This map never made it into the history books, Admiral.”

  “Fame is not my concern. My wish is to spread the Lord’s word.”

  “Frankly, most historians believe you crashed into the North American continent purely by accident, without the aid of a map.”

  Columbus raised his brow. “American. That word remains quite foreign to me.”

  “With all due respect, sir, the discovery of the New World was attributed to your search for a better trade route to the Orient solely as a means for you to obtain great wealth and power.”

  “Dear God.” Columbus’s eyes widened as he rubbed his chin. “I am judged without all the evidence. This map was given to me to unite God’s people. If fortune follows, then let that be His will.”

  Screech! The bed and table skidded across the floor as the door flung open, grazing Columbus and knocking Erica and Uncle Leopold to the floor. A cold torrent of wind rushed through the cabin.

  “How convenient,” Rat growled from the doorway. “You can all die together.”

  CHAPTER 23

  THE DARKEST DAY

  So this is how it’s going to end, Erica thought. Christopher Columbus is never going to find the New World. Blake is probably stuck as a wooden statue, and I’m trapped by a lunatic pirate waiting to kill me.

  Feeling so alone, Erica touched her beaten-up uncle’s arm.

  Rat stood in the doorway, slapping his knife repeatedly in his palm, staring, grinning, like he was completely enjoying his victory.

  Looking up at the cabin’s wall, she thought about the opening where she watched the Parabulls trying to save the membrane. She pulled a stone from her pocket and watched as the light burned out. She glanced at her uncle.

  “The power is gone, my dear,” he said, and shook his head. “The Rellium’s dead.”

  Rat sauntered into the room. He pulled Erica off the floor and pointed his knife at her. “I’ll save the princess for last.”

  “Don’t lay a hand on her,” Leopold said, standing.

  Rat shoved her to the floor and faced her uncle. “Who’s going to stop me, old man?” He moved to the admiral and pushed the tip of his knife under Columbus’s chin. “Two logbooks, eh? Your lies will see you to the bottom of the sea.” He looked to the doorway. “Listen to the men out there. Even that pig Diego can’t change their mind.”

  Sweat formed above Columbus’s lip.

  “Surprised that I know about your trickery? Tell your so-called rescuers what you’ve done!”

  Columbus closed his eyes and swallowed.

  “Tell them!” Rat pushed harder on the knife.

  Columbus remained quiet.

  “Leave him alone!” Erica said as a swirl of nausea raged in her stomach. “What did he ever do to you?”

  Rat snorted back snot running from his nose. “Well, well, what do you know. Princess Wyatt has something useless to say.” He swept his gaze over the three of them. “Pathetic, the lot of you. But you--” he focused on Uncle Leopold “--you are a double-crossing scoundrel.” Rat spat a wad of yellow mucus on her uncle’s shirt. “How’d you do it?”

  Leopold turned his head.

  Rat poked Uncle Leopold in the shoulder with the tip of his knife. “Coriane’s poisonous to Wyatts, but you didn’t die. You drank small amounts until you were able to tolerate the tea. Didn’t you?”

  Her uncle didn’t respond.

  Rat jabbed Uncle Leopold in the other shoulder, this time drawing blood. “Little by little you killed off your Wyatt powers so you could spy on the Tolucan. Ha! Wouldn’t you like to have them now?”

  Rat moved within inches of her uncle’s face. “Who smuggled you a tempus? Needed one to get through the membrane. Another Wyatt?”

  Leopold flinched. The bloodstain on his ragged shirt grew.

  “You must take me for a fool.” Rat withdrew his knife.

  “I’m going to throw up,” Erica said.

  “Shut up, Princess.” He pointed his blade at her.

  “Seriously, I’m going to--”

  “She might,” Uncle Leopold said.

  Cradling her stomach, Erica barfed on Rat’s boots.

  “You little witch.” He shook off the vomit.

  “Where’s my brother?” Erica said as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Rotting, I’m sure.”

  Erica felt some of her strength return. “You’re just a stinky, gross ogre!”

  “Rat!” A voice shouted from outside the cabin. “Pinta wants to give Columbus another day!”

  “Damn!” Rat sheathed his knife and bolted from the cabin.

  Uncle Leopold closed the door, then moved the furniture against it. “Admiral? What sort of misinformation might he--”

  “Allow me to explain.” Columbus stared out the window. “Sometimes we do what we must, regardless of consequences.”

  Uncle Leopold joined Columbus and gazed at the open ocean. “I understand, Admiral. I also carry the heavy burden of duty.”

  “I’ll be fed to the sharks because of ignorance.” Columbus folded his arms and turned from the sea. “Two logbooks document this journey. One is written by a fanciful poet, the other by a dutiful admiral. The poet wrote what the men wanted to hear. The admiral wrote the actual distances sailed since we left the Canaries--nearly one hundred twenty leagues farther.” He looked back to the sea. “I am both men.”

  Uncle Leopold raised an eyebrow. “Then, one book is--”

  “A complete fraud,” Columbus said. “All of it, by almost a fifth of the distance.”

  Erica looked at the admiral. “Why would you fake something like that?”

  Columbus sighed. “When my crew signed on for this enterprise, no ship had ever sailed more than seven hundred fifty leagues.”

  “What’s a league?” Erica asked.

  “A little more than three miles, my dear,” Uncle Leopold chimed in.

  “If my men knew how far we needed to sail, none of them would have stepped on the deck of this ship. No man believes a safe return to Spain is possible from such a distance.”

  “By my calculations, this is a journey of almost nine hundred leagues.”

  “That’s correct. The crew signed a contract to sail seven hundred fifty leagues--not a league more.”

  “I see,” Leopold said. “A bit of honest dishonesty.”

  “How did you know how far it was supposed to be?” Erica asked. “I mean, it’s not like you were here before.”

  “The map, the chart, and the logs, everything given to me by a dying sailor, all confirm what I have always believed. A western route exists to the Orient.”

  “Why don’t you just tell them, Mr. Columbus?” Erica asked. “Maybe they’ll--”

  The cabin door exploded open, pushing the bed backward.

  Erica fell against her uncle.

  “Pero, please--”

  The sailor hurtled toward Columbus and snapped up his arm with one strong motion. “You’ve hidden these lies long enough!”

  He threw Columbus down the st
eps. “The sea will judge you now!”

  From the cabin doorway, Erica stared at the mass confusion on the deck below. She felt numb.

  Menacing laughter, mixed with raucous howls, seemed to flood every part of the ship. The crew was going crazy, each man taking his turn spitting, punching, and kicking the admiral. She could see Columbus was giving up, accepting his fate, one strike at a time. Pero slung the explorer over his shoulder.

  Christopher Columbus reached out for Diego. The master-at-arms turned away.

  Erica leaned against the cabin’s doorframe and sobbed. She dreamed of so much more in her life. She’d never have her own cell phone. She’d never have a totally awesome birthday party with her friends. She remembered her broken backpack and the Bubblematic lipstick. A lump formed in the back of her throat. She would never see her mom and Blake again.

  A loud roar from the crew shattered her thoughts. Pero threw Columbus to the deck. Some men grabbed his arms, and others pulled on his legs like a wishbone. The angry mob hoisted him high in the air and passed him to the side of the ship.

  “Murderer!” Pero shouted as two men dangled the explorer over the rough sea. “May our souls haunt you in hell!”

  CHAPTER 24

  NO FEAR

  Blake shuddered, tortured by Nura’s horrific screeches as Dagonblud’s grip tightened around her neck.

  “Nura!” Blake covered his face as a black tornado of dust engulfed him. Clutching the tempus, he felt himself sucked back into the whirling debris. An old movie of Abraham Lincoln speaking from a platform played around him. He heard “Four score and seven years ago . . .” and then Lincoln faded, replaced by another famous-looking guy.

  Blake wiped his eyes, then glanced at the spinning hands of the tempus. Wham! His body crumpled as he slammed feet first into a huge wooden bucket. He knew exactly where he was--high above the deck of the Santa Maria in the ship’s crow’s nest.

  Rain pelted him as he peered over the side of the swaying, creaking basket. Columbus dangled upside-down over the choppy water, surrounded by a gang of crazed, cursing sailors.