Addison Cooke and the Ring of Destiny

by Jonathan W. Stokes

  He struggled to parry the raining blows. Molly herded him, backing him up. Ivan retreated two steps, and then a third. Overwhelmed, he stepped backward out of the treasure chamber and onto the outside platform. That was where the giant copper wrecking ball clobbered him, sending him flying off the high ledge.

  Molly watched him tumble and fall. “How’s that for a real weapon?”

  Addison and Eddie cheered.

  Raj rushed to her side and shook her hand enthusiastically, pumping it like he was tolling a church bell. “Molly, there’s something I’ve always wanted to tell you.” He beamed a smile at her.

  Molly looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

  “Well, it’s just that . . .” Raj stammered a bit and looked at the ground. “Molly, you’re amazing.”

  “Um, thanks, Raj.”

  “No, I mean, you’re just . . . You’re really . . . You’re incredible.”

  Addison took off the ring and cupped it in his hand.

  Molly scanned the drenched room. “Wait, where’s Malazar?”

  Addison looked left and right. “I thought he was behind the gold.”

  “Did anyone see him pushed out by the flood?” asked Molly.

  Addison sensed movement from the heaps of golden treasure behind him. Before he could even begin to turn, something hard and metal walloped him on the side of the head. Addison collapsed to the ground, rolling in pain. The ring rolled away as well. Addison found himself on his back staring up at the demented face of Vrolok Malazar.

  Malazar’s newly burnt features were twisted in rage as he raised King Solomon’s golden scepter high over his head. Addison saw the manic fury in Malazar’s eyes. The man brought the scepter crashing down at Addison.

  Addison swiveled his head. The scepter missed him by an inch, denting the copper floor and sending precious rubies skittering in all directions.

  Addison’s ears rang. He couldn’t seem to find his feet.

  Malazar reared up for a lethal blow.

  Addison looked for any sign of help. Molly was running toward him, but she was still too far away. The same was true for Raj. It was Eddie—of all people—who smashed into Malazar. This time the heavy scepter dented the floor millimeters from Addison’s neck. He rolled out of the way.

  Malazar tossed Eddie against a stack of gold bricks with a sickening crack. He snatched the Ring of Destiny off the ground. Clutching the fresh fire burns on his arms and face, he barreled for the exit. Unlike Ivan, he paused for the pendulum before disappearing out the door.

  Addison was woozy from the blow to his head. Raj helped him to his feet. Eddie, clutching his lower back, could only move in a limping gait.

  The group hobbled after Malazar as quickly as they could manage. They dragged themselves through the pendulum door and down the steep steps. At the bottom they could see that all of the Russians had fled.

  “Don’t they want the treasure?” asked Molly.

  “Malazar’s burned—he needs a hospital,” said Addison. “Ivan can’t be in great shape, either. Besides, they got what they came for: they have the ring.”

  Addison loped along as quickly as he could, hoping to catch up with the Collective, but each step jarred his aching head. They reached the reservoir and swam below the rocky wall. Raj, sensing the urgency, even skipped his breathing exercises. The group limped and shuffled all the way back to the mine entrance. But when they reached the mouth of the cave, all they found was a blinding sandstorm.

  Malazar, Ivan, and the Russians were gone.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The Assassin

  ADDISON KNEW FROM HIS experience in the Gobi Desert that they had no choice but to wait out the sandstorm. Blundering blindly in the blustering storm could mean getting hopelessly lost in the desert and facing certain death. He, Molly, Eddie, and Raj sat in the hollow of the mine entrance nursing their bruises and waiting for dawn.

  When at last the howling winds began to subside, Raj poked his head from their hole like a groundhog scenting for the first sign of spring. He searched the sands for any Collective footprints to follow, but the gale-force winds had long since blown away any trace.

  Molly clambered out of the mine and sat down dejectedly on the desert floor. “Malazar got away with the ring.”

  “But we know he can be beaten.” Addison stood beside her, his hair tousled by the stiff wind. After a moment, he spoke again. “Molly, inside when the flood poured in . . . did you hear something?”

  Molly looked up at him. “I thought I heard Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel. Like they were calling for us. Did you hear it, too?”

  Addison held her gaze for a long moment. He slowly nodded.

  Like a mirage, T.D. emerged from the billowing clouds of the sandstorm. She looked exhausted and dirty. A filthy handkerchief protected her face, and her dreadlocks were dusted beige from the sands. She unslung the rifle from her shoulder and dropped to one knee to rest. Nodding to Addison in greeting, she unscrewed her canteen and drank for a long time.

  Addison waited for her to finish drinking before he spoke. “Each Templar family has a specialty. And now I know what the d’Anger family does. I know why you’re good with a rifle. I know why you have access to planes and getaway cars. I know why you won’t tell us what you do . . .”

  T.D. looked at him steadily.

  “ . . . You’re an assassin.” Addison watched T.D.’s eyes for any sign of reaction, but she was as cool as the underside of a pillow. She took another pull from her canteen and said nothing.

  Addison continued. “That’s why you only came with us as far as the Collective’s encampment last night. You let us go to Solomon’s mines as bait. You wanted a shot at Malazar. I’m guessing the sandstorm spoiled your plans and he got away.”

  T.D. squinted into the wind. “The Cookes guard the relics,” she said at last. “The d’Angers . . . we guard the guardians.”

  T.D. stood up. She capped her canteen and reached into her pack. “I searched Malazar’s encampment and found something that belongs to you.” She handed Addison the bronze tablet.

  Addison wiped the sand from its surface and passed it to Molly to stow in her satchel. He nodded his thanks to T.D. “Without the tablet, Malazar will have a tough time ever finding this mine again.”

  “Why?” asked T.D. “They made it in last night.”

  Addison shook his head. “Malazar’s men never solved the puzzle—they just followed our footprints. And our footprints are long gone.” He gestured to the valley, glowing under the rising sun. Parting clouds of drifting sand revealed the land riddled with mines—thousands of mines—pocking the surface of the desert like craters on the moon. Each shifting dune looked alike in the sea of sand. There was no landmark and no way to tell a century from a millennium.

  “What about us?” said Eddie. “Shouldn’t we claim the treasure? All those rubies and diamonds and golden statues?”

  Addison shook his head.

  Eddie stared at Addison in dismay. “Well, why not?”

  Addison swept sand from the sleeves of his suit jacket and the creases of his trousers. “Solomon is a prophet to the Muslims, a prophet to the Jews, and a saint to the Christians. Who will claim this treasure? What wars will they fight? There is enough wealth here to unbalance world economies. The treasure is safer underground for now.” Addison gazed across the valley and nodded. “Our job is to protect this secret. We are not treasure hunters like Malazar. We are guardians.”

  “Relic guardians,” said Molly. She rose to her feet to stand beside her brother.

  T.D. climbed to her feet as well. “When I met you all in London, I thought you were fools . . .”

  Addison nodded. It was understandable.

  T.D. looked at each of them in turn. “I underestimated you. All of you.” T.D. then did something Addison had never seen her do. She smiled. “I will see you
again.”

  She shouldered her rifle to leave, but hesitated. “Oh yes. I have something for you. I found this tucked under a rock by the Collective encampment. It is a letter.”

  T.D. pressed a folded scrap of paper into Addison’s hand. She held his hand for a moment, squeezed, and then let go. Turning, she strode away across the flats and vanished in the gusts of sand.

  Addison looked down at the note in his hand and quickly unfolded it. He squinted from the stinging sand and read . . .

  Dear Addison and Molly,

  If you are reading this, then you are still alive, and quite possibly, we are, too. Who knows if you will find this note—we can only have faith that you will. Perhaps it was faith that saved us in Mongolia, where we plunged into the white waters of that awful river and somehow failed to drown.

  Malazar is searching for something at Kolossi Castle—something to help him with the prophecy. We are kept blindfolded, but have been shuttled between his strongholds from Russia to Spain to Cairo. He keeps us alive to help him find the Templar relics.

  Stay strong, Addison and Molly! We love you and live on the faith we will be reunited again.

  Aunt Delia & Uncle Nigel

  Molly tugged at Addison’s sleeve. “What does the letter say? Who is it from?”

  Addison swallowed the lump in his throat and handed the letter to Molly. He could manage only two words. “They’re alive.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Hope

  AS THE WIND DIED down, Addison’s group hiked back across the desert basin. They were halfway across when Dax appeared out of the drifting sand, leading the team of camels. He beamed at the sand-caked crew. “Everybody still alive?”

  “Yes.” Addison grinned. “Even Aunt D and Uncle N.” He handed Dax the letter.

  Dax scanned it and broke out in a broad smile. “Your luck is turning, Addison. And mine is, too.”

  “Why, what happened?” asked Molly.

  “Malazar left in a hurry. His helicopter’s gone, but he left his entire camp full of equipment.”

  “So?”

  “So I sold it all to a passing Bedouin caravan.” Dax winked, pulled out his wallet, and fanned a thick wad of Jordanian currency. “I’m back in business.”

  “What are you planning to do?” asked Raj.

  Dax plucked the toothpick from his mouth and considered the question. “With this kind of dough I can be back on my feet again in Tanzania, hunting poachers.”

  “I thought there was a warrant out for your arrest.”

  Dax shrugged. “I’ll just steer clear of Dar es Salaam.”

  Addison gave Dax a firm handshake. “I’m happy for you, Dax.”

  Dax clapped Addison on the shoulder. “You too, kid.”

  * * *

  • • • • • •

  Arriving back in London’s Heathrow Airport, Addison and Molly gave farewell hugs to Eddie and Raj.

  Addison turned to Eddie. “What are you going to do when you get back to New York?”

  Eddie had clearly been thinking about this, because he answered immediately. “I’m going to start piano lessons again.”

  “Are you ready?”

  Eddie nodded resolutely. “I played in that Turkish airport and it wasn’t so bad. And after all, I faced Malazar and the pendulum of death. How much can an audience do to me?”

  Addison smiled and turned to Raj. “And how about you?”

  Raj had clearly been thinking this over as well. “I’m going to face up to my mom,” he said. He took a deep breath, straightening his posture. “I’m going to tell her I’m rejoining the Boy Scouts. I’m well on my way to Eagle Scout. I enjoy it. I can help people. And you know what? I’m getting better at it.”

  “You are,” Addison agreed. He and Molly hugged them one more time and waved as they boarded their flight.

  * * *

  • • • • • •

  By the time Addison and Molly were back at Runnymede, Uncle Jasper and Jennings the butler were already overseeing workmen removing Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel’s grave markers from the family plot. Addison watched the workmen’s progress and smiled in satisfaction. He crossed to the grave of the very first Cooke—Adam Cooke—who had somehow escaped imprisonment in the Templar Fortress in Paris. Addison plucked a few nearby flowers—forget-me-nots—and placed them on Adam’s grave.

  Uncle Jasper stood by Addison’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We have to assume the Shadow knows your location now. It pains me to say we can’t be sending you back to the Dimpleforth School in the spring. It’s too dangerous.”

  Addison tried to hide his relief. “That,” he said, suppressing a smile, “is a terrible pity.”

  “In fact,” said Uncle Jasper, thrusting his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels, “I think we may need to send you and Molly abroad. Switzerland, perhaps. Or even Dubai.”

  Addison could no longer contain his grin. He broke out in a wide smile.

  Uncle Jasper seemed not to notice. His face remained grim as he surveyed the misty Surrey landscape. “Malazar has yet another relic. He is that much closer to completing the prophecy. Maybe now the remaining Templars will see that we have no choice but to fight. Maybe this will drive them out of hiding.”

  Addison looked up at his uncle. “I have to tell you the last words Grand Master Gaspard spoke to me. He had a message, Uncle Jasper. He said to tell you the Order of the Templar must rise again.”

  “He is right,” Uncle Jasper said. “There are very few of us left in the world. And many have not spoken to each other in a generation. It is time for a gathering.” Uncle Jasper glanced up at the swirling clouds, portending rain. “The time has come. We will summon the last of the Templars.”

  * * *

  • • • • • •

  That night, in Runnymede Manor, Addison was thrilled to be back in his own room and in his own bed. And yet he was not ready for sleep. He crossed his room barefoot in the dark to stand in the moonlight by the window overlooking the orchard.

  He loved the stars and planets of the cosmos, and for years he had told people he wanted to become a cosmetologist until he found out what that word actually meant. Tonight he gazed up at the night sky—the Milky Way breaking out in a rash of constellations. And for once, all seemed well in the world. Or if not well, pretty close.

  For it is only when the night grows dark, Addison reflected, that we can truly see the stars. Malazar now had the Ring of Destiny. Malazar now had the golden whip. But somewhere under those sparkling lights in the night sky, his aunt and uncle were still alive. And by those stars, Addison knew his true direction, his purpose. He had a score to settle. He had to make things right.

  In these dark times, there is not always room for forgiving or forgetting.

  But there is always room for hope.

  Author’s Note

  THE KNIGHTS TEMPLAR ARE a real order of knights who fought in the Crusades during the Middle Ages. This group of knights helped invent the modern banking system and grew fantastically wealthy and powerful—even owning the entire island of Cyprus. This all came crashing down on Friday, October 13, 1307, when King Philip IV of France—deeply in debt to the Templars—ordered the Templar leaders to be arrested and eventually burned at the stake.

  The “Temple” Fortress in Paris was built by the Templars in the thirteenth century, at the height of their power. It stood for centuries until Napoleon ordered it demolished in 1808. A Paris Métro stop now stands in its place.

  The Paris Catacombs are entirely real and an amazing spot to visit. They comprise more than two hundred miles of mines, tunnels, and ossuaries. The catacombs are mostly south of the River Seine, whereas the Temple Fortress was built to the north.

  The massive reservoir of the Basilica Cistern is a real location in Istanbul, as is the Hagia Sophi
a. Kolossi Castle on the island of Cyprus is well worth a trip, but don’t be disappointed if the actual castle is somewhat smaller, simpler, and less sinister than what I described in the book. As for 747s, they can indeed be boarded by climbing the front wheel ladder, though you probably shouldn’t try this unless you have great health insurance.

  The treasure of King Solomon is believed to be quite real, and includes Solomon’s ring, the Ark of the Covenant, and a fabulous amount of gold. As of this writing, its location remains a mystery.

  Acknowledgments

  CHERYL EISSING, MICHAEL GREEN, Laurel Robinson, Abigail Powers, Shanta Newlin, Nicole White, Brianne Johnson, and Christopher Adler.

  About the Author

  Jonathan W. Stokes (www.jonathanwstokes.com) is a former teacher who is now a Hollywood screenwriter. He has written screenplays on assignment for Warner Brothers, Universal, Fox, Paramount, New Line, and Sony/Columbia. Inspired by a childhood love of The Goonies and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Jonathan set out to write his first novel, Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas. Born in Manhattan, he currently resides in Los Angeles. Follow Jonathan on Twitter @jonathanwstokes.

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