Peter and the Sword of Mercy

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  He was hungry.

  And he was after them.

  Another roar.

  “He’s getting closer,” said Shining Pearl.

  “Yes,” said Nibs.

  “I don’t think we can keep outrunning him,” said Shining Pearl.

  Nibs stopped. “We don’t have to,” he said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Nibs pointed ahead. Shining Pearl peered through the leaves and the torrential downpour. They had reached a clearing. Fifty feet ahead was the mouth of a cave, illuminated by torches burning inside. A man stood guard outside.

  “How many lumps do you have left?” he whispered.

  “One,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he said. “All we have to do is get them close to the cave. Mister Grin will do the rest. Come on.”

  He started forward.

  “Wait!” said Shining Pearl, grabbing his shirt.

  “What?”

  “Look,” said Shining Pearl, pointing. “Just past the guard.”

  Nibs squinted through the rain and, by the flickering light of the torches inside the cave, saw Little Scallop and the other children, huddled together, heads down, next to a tree.

  “They’re tied up!” said Little Scallop.

  “Oh no,” said Nibs.

  Behind them a tree crashed to the ground.

  “Listen,” said Shining Pearl, handing her dung lump to Nibs. “You sneak up that way and put all the dung near the cave. I’ll go the other way and come up behind Little Scallop and the boys. When I signal you, make sure the guard sees you, then run back this way.”

  “You want me to run toward Mister Grin?”

  “Make sure you get off the path in time.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” he said.

  Ignoring his sarcasm, Shining Pearl said, “When Mister Grin has gone past, circle back and meet us down the hill from here. All right?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nibs. “What if—”

  “Good,” said Shining Pearl. And she was gone.

  CHAPTER 63

  THE GLOWING POOL

  NEREZZA SHOUTED ACROSS THE glowing pool, his voice echoing in the cave: “Tell them to hurry! it’s taking too long!”

  Cheeky O’Neal only grunted. There was nothing he could do to speed the process. The men were working underwater in gold suits and breathing through tubes, which was hard enough; on top of that they had to do everything by feel, the brilliant light underwater forcing them to keep their eyes closed. They had to feel around blindly for the starstuff, then use gold buckets to scoop it up and pour it into the gold-lined chest that had been lowered to the bottom. From time to time they surfaced to rest and report their progress. Despite Nerezza’s fretting, they were doing well. They believed they’d gotten most of the starstuff off the bottom; the chest was three-quarters full.

  And the divers felt wonderful. So did Cheeky, and the other men in the cave, except for Nerezza. The starstuff-laced water lifted their spirits, erased their aches, filled them with energy. O’Neal marveled at its powers. Nerezza had warned him, however, that any man who was exposed directly to the starstuff without the protection of a gold suit would die within seconds. The men were to make absolutely certain that the chest was securely shut before they hauled it up from the bottom of the pool.

  From the looks of things, that time would be soon. The underwater glow had dimmed considerably. O’Neal looked across at Nerezza. The captain—and the people who’d hired him—had gone to enormous effort and expense to get this starstuff. The chest alone must have cost a fortune. O’Neal wondered what the starstuff would be worth, and how a man like him might use it. It was something to keep in mind.

  CHAPTER 64

  AN AWFUL SCREAM

  NIBS CREPT THROUGH THE JUNGLE, approaching the cave from the side opposite from that where the children were tied up. He waited until the guard was facing away, then placed one of the foul-smelling dung lumps just outside the cave mouth. He gently tossed the other into the cave itself.

  He crouched behind some rocks and peered out. By the light of the torch in the cave, he could just make out the guard. He was staring out into the rain, looking bored.

  Then, just past the guard, Nibs saw a slim brown arm rise out of a bush and wave.

  Nibs took a breath.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  The guard spun and looked at him.

  “Hey!” Nibs shouted again, starting down the path.

  The guard looked over at the children tied to the tree. Seeing they were all there, he shouted into the cave, “There’s another boy out here! He’s loose!” Then he took off running after Nibs.

  The instant the guard was gone, Shining Pearl emerged from behind the bush and ran to the other children. They started to call out, but she shushed them with a finger to the lips, pointing toward the cave. She ran to Little Scallop, who was tied like the others, with her hands behind her back. Shining Pearl fumbled with the knot but the wet rope felt glued in place.

  “I have a knife!” Slightly whispered. “My pocket.”

  Shining Pearl reached into his pocket and pulled out a stick with a sharpened shell lashed to it. She began sawing the part of the rope attached to the tree.

  She heard shouts from inside the cave.

  And then, from just below in the jungle, the sound of trees going down.

  She sawed frantically with the knife. The rope parted. The children were still tied together, but at least they were free of the tree.

  “Hurry,” she said, pushing them, stumbling, toward the jungle. The twins had just disappeared into the foliage and Shining Pearl was about to follow them when she realized she had dropped the starfish. She turned and saw it lying near the cave mouth. She ran over, picked it up, and turned to race back into the jungle.

  A huge hand grabbed her neck from behind.

  “What are you doing here?” said Cheeky O’Neal.

  Before she could answer, a thunderous roar filled the clearing. They looked downhill and saw the guard emerge from the jungle, running full-speed toward them, a look of utter terror on his face.

  Three seconds later they saw why.

  The monster crocodile burst into the clearing, his glowing yellow eyes impossibly far apart, his massive maw open to reveal a jagged row of needle-sharp teeth the size of spears. On open ground he moved with amazing speed; he was gaining on the guard, now in a race for his life.

  O’Neal didn’t wait to see who won. Lifting Shining Pearl easily off her feet, he turned and ran for the cave.

  From behind them came an awful scream.

  CHAPTER 65

  TRAPPED

  THE COLUMN OF WARRIORS loped up the steep trail, single file, Fighting Prawn in the lead. The old chief gripped his spear in his right hand; a bow and a quiver of arrows were slung across his back. He ran with a steady, efficient stride; the younger warriors knew that he would not tire or stop to rest. Not with his children in danger.

  Movement ahead on the trail. Without a word, the warriors melted into the jungle on either side, waiting, spears poised.

  Then they heard voices. Children’s voices.

  Fighting Prawn burst from the jungle and ran forward. Ahead on the trail were Little Scallop and the Lost Boys. The chief dropped to his knees in the mud and embraced his daughter. She was sobbing, her words incoherent. Fighting Prawn saw that, except for Nibs, the children were tied together, their hands behind their backs. He pulled his knife and quickly cut them free, counting them as he did.

  “Where is Shining Pearl?” he said.

  Little Scallop only sobbed harder.

  “The men got her,” said Nibs. “She’s in the cave.” He told the chief what he had seen from his hiding place in the jungle: Shining Pearl cutting the other children loose from the tree, then being grabbed by Cheeky O’Neal; Mister Grin catching one of the men as O’Neal ran back into the cave.

  “O’Neal?” said Fighting Prawn. “Are you sure?”

  The children assured
him that it was indeed O’Neal, as well as the other three men who’d been with him on the island, and some other men as well.

  “They brought big boxes,” said Slightly.

  “And golden suits,” added Tootles.

  “So they were never shipwrecked at all,” said Fighting Prawn. “They were after the starstuff all along. Now we know why that ship is patrolling off the village. They want to draw our attention away while the raiding party removes the starstuff.”

  He ordered two of his men to take the children back to the village. Then he and the other warriors hurried up the path. When they neared the clearing by the cave, they were met by Bold Abalone.

  “They’re in the cave,” he told his father. “We can see torches. But we can’t get any closer, because Mister Grin is waiting outside. I think he got one of their men—we heard a scream—and now he wants more.”

  “So they’re trapped in the cave,” said Fighting Prawn.

  “Yes,” said Bold Abalone. “They can’t escape. When Mister Grin leaves, we can go in after them.”

  “I wish it were that simple,” said Fighting Prawn.

  “What do you mean?”

  “They have Shining Pearl.”

  CHAPTER 66

  “HE SEEMS TO WANT MORE”

  NEREZZA GLARED AT SHINING PEARL. “This is another one of the chief’s daughters?” he said.

  “Yes,” said O’Neal. “She freed the other children; they escaped. That means the Mollusks will be up here soon.”

  “Then we will leave now. We’re almost ready.” Nerezza nodded toward the pool. His men were hauling ropes, carefully raising the chest from the bottom. It had been filled with starstuff and locked shut. The divers were stripping off their golden suits.

  “We can’t leave now,” said O’Neal.

  “Why not?”

  “Follow me.”

  O’Neal grabbed a torch and led Nerezza toward the mouth of the cave. When they were ten feet from it, he stopped.

  “Look there,” he said, pointing.

  “What?” said Nerezza, peering into the darkness outside the cave.

  O’Neal took two more steps toward the mouth. From the darkness came a deep growl.

  Then Nerezza saw the huge glowing yellow eyes, the massive snout.

  “What is that?” he said.

  “A crocodile,” said O’Neal. “A very big crocodile. The natives call him Mister Grin.”

  “Where’s the guard I posted?” said Nerezza.

  “Inside Mister Grin,” said O’Neal. “He seems to want more.”

  Nerezza stared at the monster, pondering his options. He had no firearms; he hadn’t expected to need them. He could order one of his men to make a run for it in an attempt to lure Mister Grin away. But he doubted that any man would be fool enough to follow such an order.

  “We’ll have to wait, then,” he said. “It has to go away eventually.”

  “By then the Mollusks will be here,” said O’Neal. “If they’re not here already.”

  Nerezza pondered that, then said, “I assume the chief is fond of his daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case,” said Nerezza, “she may be useful.”

  CHAPTER 67

  VERY WARM

  IT TOOK PETER, WENDY, and the others the better part of two hours to reach Westminster Abbey. After leaving the Scotland Landing through the back door, they took an indirect route, Magill leading them south on a zigzag course through pitch-black alleys until they reached the Thames. They then followed the embankment east and north, past rundown buildings and docks. Occasionally they were approached by rough-looking characters, sometimes in groups; but they quickly melted back into the fog upon catching sight of the large figure of Magill, and the even larger figure of Karl shuffling along in an overcoat and bowler hat.

  Just as Big ben tolled eleven, they reached the area of the riverbank below the abbey, which was hidden from them by the dense fog that had settled over the river. As they had agreed, the others stayed there while Peter flew ahead. Launching himself upward into the fog, Peter keenly felt the absence of Tink. Ordinarily she would be flying just ahead of him, leading the way with her reassuring glow. But now he was forced to find his way, flying tentatively with his hands in front of him, almost feeling his way in the fog. Finally, through the gloom ahead, he saw the abbey’s two front towers.

  He descended carefully, landing on the edge of a steeply sloped roof behind the towers. He listened for a minute, then, hearing nothing aside from the traffic on the street in front of the abbey, lowered himself to the ground. He looked around for police or guards, and, seeing none, began to make his way around the vast building. He found what looked like the front door—a massive thing—but, not surprisingly, it was locked. He kept going, again wishing he had Tink to help him. Slowly he worked his way around the building. He came to another big, locked door. He kept going, and finally, in a dark corner at the rear, he came to a smaller door. It, too, was locked. But it was what he was looking for.

  He flew back down to the river, finding the others shivering in the fog. He led them on foot back up to the door at the rear of the abbey. Magill studied it for a moment, then said, “All right.”

  Magill growled something. Karl lumbered over, rose up on his hind legs, put his massive forepaws against the door, and pushed. The door burst open with a crash and the sound of metal snapping.

  “Good boy,” said Magill.

  Patrick went inside, followed by the others, Magill and Karl bringing up the rear. They were in a hallway, and then a vast, echoing, dimly lit space. Peter gasped at its grandeur—magnificent stone columns in the center, and towering arches leading up to majestic windows and a ceiling that seemed as high as the sky itself.

  “Someone’s coming!” hissed Wendy.

  In fact, it was two someones—a pair of night watchmen, one stocky and one stockier, both clutching electric torches as they trotted toward the group, heavy shoes clomping on the stone floor.

  “Here now!” shouted the less stocky one. “Stop!”

  This command was unnecessary, as nobody in the group was moving. They stood waiting in the gloom as the watchmen clomped up.

  “Here now!” said the stockier one, puffing. “The abbey is closed!”

  “We regret the intrusion,” said Patrick. “But we’re here on an important matter that simply can’t wait.”

  “The abbey is closed!” repeated the watchman. He was very firm on this point.

  “How did you get in?” demanded the less stocky one.

  “Through that door back there,” said Patrick, gesturing.

  “That door’s locked!” said the watchman. “I locked it myself.”

  “Indeed you did,” said Patrick.

  “We’ll see what the police have to say about this,” said the stockier one.

  “We would prefer that you didn’t,” said Patrick.

  “Is that so?” said the watchman, turning. He then emitted a most unwatchmanlike yelp, for he had turned directly into the massive hairy bulk of Karl, who had circled around in the gloom and, on padded feet the size of dinner plates, come up silently behind him. The other watchman then turned and emitted a similar sound. The two men stood staring at the bear.

  “Now then,” Patrick said reasonably. “Why don’t you two gentlemen sit on that bench over there? Karl here will keep you company.”

  Magill stepped forward and, taking the watchmen by their arms, led them to an oak bench against a wall. He grunted something to Karl, who curled up on the stone floor in front of the watchmen and immediately began snoring.

  “You’ll be fine, long as you don’t move,” Magill told the watchmen. “If you move, you’ll wake him up. And believe me, you don’t want to wake him up.” He walked away, leaving the two men frozen as still as the abbey’s stone columns.

  The group spread out and began the daunting task of searching the abbey’s many spaces, large and small—its chapels, statues, monuments, and memorials—
hoping to find some clue, some sign of where the Cache might be hidden. But at the end of an hour they had seen nothing that a million tourists had not seen before them. A feeling of hopelessness was beginning to settle over them.

  They had left St. Edmund’s Chapel and were trudging into St. Benedict’s Chapel when Wendy felt a strange sensation on her right-hand side. She reached her hand into her pocket. Then she stopped.

  “Wait,” she said.

  “What is it?” said Peter.

  Wendy withdrew her hand. In it she held the locket her mother had given her, the one she had torn from her neck so she could pour its starstuff into the fuel tank of Neville’s ornithopter. She had stuck it into her pocket then and kept it with her since.

  “It’s warm,” she said.

  “What is it?” said Patrick, peering at the locket.

  “It’s a starstuff locket,” said Peter. “I remember Mol—your mother wore one like it.”

  “It’s that same locket,” said Wendy. “She gave it to me. And something’s making it warm.”

  “Let’s see if you can make it warmer,” said Peter. “Try moving this way.” He walked toward the part of the abbey known as Poets’ Corner. Wendy followed him.

  “No,” she said. “It’s getting colder.”

  Peter turned and led her past some columns toward the sanctuary.

  “Warmer,” she said. “Much.”

  They reached the sanctuary. “It’s very warm now,” said Wendy, her voicing rising in excitement. Her eyes fell on the high altar. She turned toward it, then started walking quickly toward it. She drew close, then went around and past it. Ten feet behind the altar, she stopped. She was standing next to a large, ornate shrine.

  She held the locket toward it. It glowed like fire.