The Navigator

by Sky, Erin Michelle; Brown, Steven;

  “I killed three just yesterday!” Peter declared.

  “Oh, you did not, you winged idiot,” Vegard told him, but his gruff tone was more brotherly than antagonistic.

  Men swarmed out of the castle like angry hornets. Some were clearly everlost, flying to the ships in moments and unfurling the sails. Others had no wings, racing instead to a line of rowboats, desperate to reach their posts. A second round of cannon fire emerged from the ships in the sky, and Wendy heard its roar a moment later. The largest vessel in the harbor took heavy damage, and one of its masts toppled over.

  “Why aren’t they shooting at the one in dry dock?” Wendy wondered aloud. The ship was massive—clearly more of a threat than any of the others.

  “I don’t think it’s sky-worthy,” Vegard commented.

  Only then did Wendy notice that the dry dock was covered in scaffolding. It did, in fact, look as though Blackheart’s crew had been working on it.

  By this time, the last of the rowboats had reached their destinations and Blackheart’s crew had begun to scale the ropes that hung from the sides of the fleet. Humans, imps, and several other kinds of creatures that Wendy couldn’t quite make out all rushed hand over hand toward the decks. Were those … lizard people? Wendy tried to look at one more closely, through the spyglass, but the pirate fell from the rope and splashed into the water below. She lowered the glass in time to see an everlost fly down and scoop him up, depositing him on the deck of a ship that was already rising into the air.

  One, two, three … Wendy counted the ships as The Pegasus and the Jolly Roger picked up speed, ready to draw them away. Four … five … six. Even the ship that had lost its mast took to the air, limping valiantly behind the others. The wyverns unwrapped themselves from the tower and took off after the fleet when they saw it leaving to pursue their attackers. A few scattered flying beasts lifted off from the ramparts to chase the wyverns, and then everything seemed to quiet.

  No one appeared to be left on the battlements, and only two ships remained behind: the warship in dry dock and Blackheart’s own vessel, floating serenely in the water. Wendy recognized it as the one that had chased them into Neverland, but there was no one on it now. Or, at least, not anyone she could see.

  Wendy drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, watching all the while. Nothing moved. This was their chance. She said a quick, silent prayer for The Pegasus and the Jolly Roger, and then she turned to her crew.

  “It’s time.”

  hey were able to fly Pan’s ship almost to the castle without losing the cover of the fog. Or, at least, without losing it entirely. Wendy ordered the sails furled, and Nibs stayed low within the light gray mist, rising only high enough to follow Charming, who flew above them in the form of a tiny golden bird.

  Finally, just a few dozen yards from the outer wall, the fog broke, and there was nowhere left to hide. Wendy stepped forward, speaking quickly but quietly.

  “Peter, Michael, Reginald, Vegard, Starkey. You’re with me. And, Peter, choose three more everlost who can be especially cunning. We need to sneak through the castle without alerting any guards who might be left behind.”

  “The twins,” Peter said immediately. “And Slightly.”

  “Obviously.”

  Wendy had to assume the everlost who said this was Slightly himself. He stepped forward with a grin and shook the blond hair out of his eyes with an exaggerated snap of his head.

  “Nibs,” Wendy said, “bring us right up to the ramparts. But move fast. As soon as we’re away, retreat into the fog. Assign a lookout to the crow’s nest. Stay hidden until you see us on the ramparts again. The Fourteenth will provide cover fire, but only if necessary. If worse comes to worst and the fleet returns, fire the cannons and try to draw them away again. Buy us whatever time you can.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” Nibs said with a gallant bow.

  The extra flourish did not exactly fill Wendy with confidence, but it would have to do. There was no time left. The ship burst from the fog and raced the last few yards to the ramparts, fully exposed. The next thing Wendy knew, she was dropping hand over hand down a rope as fast as she could, and then she was standing on the high ramparts of Blackheart’s castle.

  The courtyard below was empty and deathly still. A handful of guards stood on the far battlements, but they were still looking out over the water, shading their eyes against the morning sun, trying to watch the fleet.

  “Stay low,” Wendy whispered. She ducked down far enough that the protective wall at the edge of the rampart would hide her from view if any of the guards decided to turn around, and the rest of her team followed suit. “We’re going to have to search for Blackheart’s inner sanctuary—probably a laboratory of some kind. Remember, stay quiet. We’ll fight if we have to, but we’d rather not bring the whole castle down on our heads if we can help it.”

  “Tinker Bell knows where it is,” Peter said. “She spies on the castle all the time.” He answered Wendy in a perfectly normal speaking voice despite everything she had just said.

  “Shhhhhhhhh!” Wendy hissed. Vegard rolled his eyes and shook his head. They all fell silent and waited, but after several breaths, there was still no sign they had been discovered.

  “Tinker Bell knows where Blackheart has been working?” Wendy finally asked in a whisper.

  Tinker Bell crossed her arms over her chest and hovered proudly in midair. She caught Wendy’s eye and nodded emphatically, answering for herself. Wendy snuck a glance back at the ship, which was already disappearing into the fog.

  “All right,” Wendy told her. “Lead the way.”

  An archway at the next corner opened onto an enclosed stairwell. They descended into a long corridor with heavy wooden doors to either side, but they scurried only a few yards along it before Tinker Bell ducked through another archway. These stairs were clearly less used than the others, but Wendy still cringed at the way every small scuff echoed against the stone.

  There were no torches to light their way, so they crept along to a golden glow provided by Tinker Bell and Charming until this new stairwell opened into a system of corridors that twisted and turned like a labyrinth. Tinker Bell turned left, then right, then right, then left again, changing course so often that Wendy soon felt hopelessly lost. She would have accused Tinker Bell of leading them in circles, but every so often they came to another stairwell and descended to new depths, only to begin the process all over again.

  “This isn’t much of an adventure,” Peter finally complained.

  By Wendy’s reckoning, they were two levels below ground. They hadn’t heard anyone else since the level above them, and even that had sounded distant, barely echoing through the tunnels. But they had no idea who might be down here working in some hidden corner or even shirking their duty by hiding away in a forgotten dungeon.

  “Shhhhhhhhh!” Wendy hissed again.

  “Well, it isn’t!” he said, speaking even more loudly than before. “I thought we would have fought someone by now. But nothing’s happening at all. We’re just walking around and around and around. I could have done that without ever leaving the valley!”

  The men all glared at him—especially Reginald, who had just been thinking the exact same thing but had had the common sense not to blurt it out during a clandestine operation.

  “Peter,” Wendy whispered, “it is a great adventure. Think about it. I’m certain Blackheart and his men have fought to defend this castle many times.” (In point of fact, she wasn’t certain of it at all. But it seemed like a reasonable premise.) “But how many teams do you think have ever snuck into Blackheart’s castle right under his nose?”

  Peter looked thoughtful, obviously considering her argument.

  “Only a true master of stealth could sneak all the way to Blackheart’s private lair and surprise him, giving him no chance to escape,” she told him. “That would be worthy of a great story.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” Peter agreed, finally whispering. “But do you think the
re might at least be some fighting?”

  “Oh, come on,” Wendy told him, and they fell silent again.

  The truth, though, was that Wendy did think there would be fighting. She just didn’t want to admit it out loud. The deeper they pushed into the very bowels of Blackheart’s realm—which was how Wendy had begun to think of this entire expedition—the more she could sense a great evil lurking somewhere below.

  Waiting for them.

  The thought made her shudder, but she pressed on, nonetheless. She would not shirk her duty to England, no matter what it might cost her. And she would not abandon Neverland.

  Finally, just as Wendy had begun to think they might wander the corridors and tunnels of Blackheart’s stronghold forever, they came out into a large space that almost made Wendy gasp in surprise. Several different tunnels converged here into an ornate entrance hall. Pillars of stark-white stone rose along each side with elaborately carved arches between them. Raised carvings stood out up and down the pillars, like some long-forgotten language Wendy had never seen before. Each letter—or were they words?—was as tall as her fist and covered in gold leaf. Torches flared between the pillars, glinting along the metal and bathing the entire area in dancing light.

  “What is this place?” Wendy whispered.

  “Some kind of temple,” Vegard replied. He wasn’t exactly whispering, but his voice was pitched so low she could barely hear him. “These symbols were carved by Norsemen.”

  “Norsemen?” Wendy asked in surprise. “What do they say?”

  “I don’t know,” he said simply. “I recognize them, but they’re older than I. Far older. Tigerlilja studied the old ways, long ago. She might know them, but I do not.”

  Wendy shivered. She wanted to know what it meant, but there was nothing she could do about it. They certainly couldn’t stand here waiting for someone else to emerge from the tunnels.

  “Michael,” she whispered.

  “Aye.” He had not spoken a word in all this time, but he had moved to her side protectively the moment they had first entered the chamber.

  “I need you to stay here with Starkey, Reginald, and the twins to cover the rear flank. Pan, Vegard, Slightly, and I are going in to investigate.”

  Michael flexed his jaw and glanced at Peter. “I don’t like it,” he told her, and then he added, even more quietly, “I have orders to protect you. Orders from John and from Hook.”

  But Wendy knew that wasn’t his real objection. Michael didn’t want to leave her side with or without those orders. “I’ll call for you if we get into trouble,” she promised. “Right now, I need to know nothing else is coming through that door behind us. That’s how I need you to protect me. Can you do that?”

  Michael stared at her a moment longer, and then he sighed a little. “Aye, sir.”

  Returning to silence, Michael used hand signals to set his team up behind the pillars. Wendy didn’t like leaving them any more than Michael liked staying behind, but at least it was a highly defensible position. With a final glance at Michael, she turned and made her way toward the other end of the entry hall, followed by Pan, Vegard, and Slightly.

  As for Tinker Bell and Charming, they hadn’t been given any orders at all. They were so small that even Wendy tended to overlook them, which was just one of the many reasons why Tinker Bell didn’t like her. But the innisfay are almost as curious as they are proud, so they both followed Wendy into Blackheart’s inner sanctum, even if Tinker Bell did give her a dirty look behind Peter’s back.

  Peering out of the entry hall, Wendy’s immediate thought was that they were back outside again—the space was huge and as bright as day—but, of course, that was impossible. They couldn’t be outside. They were several stories underground. Still, it felt like being outdoors.

  Rows and rows of giant columns stood before her, wrapping in a huge oval around a large open space in the center, almost like an arena. In fact, it was very much like an arena. The columns were all lit by torches, and, on top of the arched columns, empty rows of tiered stone seating curved around the room, raised high above the sand-filled floor. The only difference Wendy could see from a typical arena design was that there was nothing to stop her from walking among the columns beneath the seating platforms.

  That, and the roof of the giant underground cavern. It loomed far overhead, supported at least in part by an outer ring of massive columns that reached all the way to the ceiling, with equally impressive arches between them.

  It would have been a magnificent arena, but it wasn’t an arena at all. Vegard had been right. It was a temple. Wendy knew this because a huge statue stood in the center of the open space, depicting a giant gate—with an equally giant Norseman pushing the upper half of his body roughly halfway through. The statue was so large, in fact, that it took Wendy several moments before she noticed three other things about it that she had not realized at first.

  One, it was the source of evil Wendy had been feeling all this time. She was certain of it.

  Two, there was nothing at all supporting the Norseman statue’s torso. It simply hung in midair, thrusting forward through the gate.

  Third, the statue moved.

  It didn’t move much, and it didn’t move often, but it moved. Every few seconds, the entire figure would ripple with energy. It only lasted for a fraction of a second each time, but during that instant, the statue looked real, made of flesh and bone like any other man, but with eyes as dull and black as coal.

  The first time it happened, Wendy ducked behind one of the nearby pillars, but the giant didn’t react to her presence, if he had even seen her at all. He was turned slightly away from them, and as fast as it had appeared, the ripple vanished, leaving behind a white marble statue, just as before. Wendy turned to look for the others, only to discover that Vegard, Peter, and Slightly had all crowded in right behind her. She flinched, grabbing halfway for her sword before she managed to stop herself, her heart galloping in her chest.

  She glared at Peter and pushed him away because he was closest, but he hardly seemed to notice. Slightly grinned. Vegard only shrugged as though to say, What was I supposed to do? Stay out in the open with the giant living statue? He narrowed his eyes at Peter but said nothing.

  Huge sets of stone steps on either side of the temple’s entrance led up to the seating above. Wendy waited until the next ripple had passed through the statue and then she dashed for them across the sand, followed by the rest. She wanted a higher vantage point. Blackheart had to be here somewhere. He had to be.

  They reached the bottom level of seating only to realize there was almost no cover here. Nothing separated them from the statue except a low retaining wall at the front edge of the curving balcony. Wendy crawled forward from the relative safety of the stairwell, motioning to the others to follow. When Peter looked like he was going to ignore her and simply walk forward, she reached up and grabbed his shirt, tugging him down below the wall. Peter opened his mouth but before he could say a word, Wendy gave him such a withering look that the protest died on his lips.

  They crawled along behind the wall, moving closer to the statue, but as they crawled, they heard someone speaking. Wendy risked a quick glance over the edge and realized there was a man standing next to the gate, which had hidden him from their view before. She ducked again, holding up a warning hand to Peter and the others.

  “There has to be a way,” he was saying. “I need more forces. The beasts are too hard to control.”

  There was a long pause, and then Wendy heard the answer in her own mind, as clearly as if someone had whispered it into her ear.

  Chaos.

  Wendy was so shocked that she almost missed what the man said next. She was too busy exchanging a wide-eyed stare with Vegard, who had clearly heard the whisper, too, and she had to play the man’s words over in her mind to make sense of them.

  “Yes, of course, my lord. They will wreak havoc when they are unleashed. But that will not be enough to bring the Kingdom of Britain to its knees. I
need men. Stronger, faster, better men. Flying men.”

  And a few moments later, the answer came.

  Everlost.

  “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying. I need more. I’ve taken all I can. The rest are loyal to Peter.”

  There was a much longer break this time, until Wendy wasn’t sure the man was going to get an answer. It was Blackheart speaking. It had to be. Slowly, carefully, Wendy eased the musket from her back and loaded it. But then the answer came, along with a chill that settled like ice in her heart.

  Evil.

  Comes.

  To Neverland.

  “When, Lord Buri?” The man’s voice rose in agitation. “When will you come through?”

  Soon.

  Buri. Wendy had already suspected that this was Buri. The Norse god Tigerlilja had warned her about. The one who had killed Peter’s parents. But Peter hadn’t known it. Thanks to the curse, Peter had forgotten all about Buri.

  Until now.

  Wendy turned to Peter just in time to see a look of confusion cross his face. But then he stared straight into Wendy’s eyes. The confusion fell away, only to be replaced by the most terrible combination of grief and rage Wendy had ever seen.

  “BURI!” Peter screamed.

  No. In one fluid motion, Wendy rose and trained her weapon squarely on Blackheart’s chest. And then, with her finger already applying pressure to the trigger, she made the worst mistake of her life.

  She looked Blackheart in the eyes just as she was about to fire.

  If women ever sail the sea,

  They’ll scrub the decks for men like me!

  They’ll marry none but Davy Jones,

  And for their children, only bones!

  Blackheart.

  Black. Heart.

  Blackheart was Mortimer Black.