Wily, who had been a few steps behind Kestrel, was still safely standing on solid ground. He looked down to see that his father’s fingers were slipping from the intense force being exerted on them. There were only moments before Kestrel would be lost to the darkness. Wily flung himself to his belly and reached an arm out toward his father.
“Grab my hand!” Wily shouted over the gurgling water.
He wasn’t a moment too soon either. Kestrel grabbed for his son when his hands slipped from the slick rock. Wily pulled with all his strength as the water tugged Kestrel toward the center of the whirlpool. Wily felt as if his arms might be torn out of his shoulder sockets. He looked into his father’s eyes, the eyes that looked so much like his own, as he struggled to hoist him out. His father did not look like the cruel Infernal King. His father looked like a person full of fear and panic. Just when Wily thought he would not be able to hold him any longer, Moshul’s strong arms pulled him and his father onto the stone floor of the sloping chamber.
“That was close,” Roveeka said.
“As far as traps go,” Kestrel said, “this one isn’t very impressive.”
“What are you talking about?” Wily said. “It nearly killed you!”
“Exactly,” Kestrel said as he got to his feet. “Nearly. What good is a trap that only nearly kills you? If I had designed it, it would have done the job it was intended to do.”
Wily didn’t know how to respond to this. He waited for his father to thank him, but it didn’t come.
“Let’s move along,” Kestrel said. “And keep your eye out for more sloppy traps. This Recluself is clearly in need of some sophistication.”
As Kestrel inched his way along the narrow band of rock hugging the whirlpool trap, Wily couldn’t help but stare at him incredulously. He was angry, not only at his father, but himself too. He had just saved the life of the man he hated most. And he hadn’t hesitated even for a second and had acted purely on instinct. Foolish, regrettable instinct.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” Wily said quietly to Pryvyd beside him. “If it had been the reverse and I was dangling, he would have let me drop.”
“Listen, Wily…,” Pryvyd whispered back.
“I know what you are going to say,” Wily interrupted. “I did the right thing.”
“Actually,” Pryvyd confided, “next time, I was hoping you would be a little slower in your rescuing. I think Kestrel could use a dunk in a pitch-black whirlpool.” Pryvyd gave him a wink. “But we should move along. We don’t want him getting too far ahead of us.”
As the group continued down through the tunnel, Wily saw that Kestrel took much more cautious steps and ran his fingers along the curves in the walls, searching for traps. Between father and son, the group managed to avoid triggering a falling boulder or activating a floor set to fire out poisonous needles. Despite not seeing anyone, Wily had the sense they were being watched, perhaps from one of the hidden maintenance tunnels that almost certainly ran parallel to the main corridor.
As the downward-sloping tunnel flattened out, they reached another wooden door that appeared to have been hastily closed. There was no need to lift this barrier off its hinges. A simple push swung it wide open. On the other side of the door, Wily discovered a long hall painted with colors that were swirling in constant motion.
“It’s just like the mural at Halberd Keep,” Wily said.
He remembered how the colors had formed a picture that only he could see. It had shown him Stalag plotting the rise of the Infernal Golem and given him a clue to his enemy’s plan, although he hadn’t quite understood it at the time.
“This has been here since my ancestors came to the island,” Jayrus said, “long before the Recluself made it his grotto. It shows the world beyond the island. We are happy on the Island of Delight and have never seen the benefit of peering into other folks’ lives.”
As Wily stared at the walls, a picture began to form. His heart beat fast as his mother’s face came into focus. She looked frightened. As more of the mural took shape, he could see that Valor was by her side and they were in the middle of intense combat. Stalag stood on the drawbridge of the royal palace as gearfolk rolled into the atrium. Lumina and Valor were trying to fend them off, but there were dozens, each armed with an ax that looked to be made from smoke. Impish and Gremlin, Lumina’s loyal ferret companions, were knocked aside by the magically assisted machines as they continued to attack the palace. Wily could feel his heart pounding as he watched his loved ones struggle. If only he could jump into the mural and teleport to his mother’s side. Stalag laughed as he raised his hands and shot arrows of crackling energy at Lumina. She dodged out of the way, but the forces against her and Valor were too great. They tried to back away and escape, but they were cornered by gearfolk and a snagglecart. The rolling cage swallowed them up, leaving them trapped inside. Stalag was laughing as he approached the side of the snagglecart. The cavern mage turned to an enchanted gearfolk and spoke. While Wily could not hear what he said, he could read the words slipping out from the mage’s gray, cracked lips: “Take them to the prisonaut and lock them away.” Lumina and Valor stood defiantly, but Wily could see his mother was trembling.
“I’ll save you,” Wily called out to the wall.
The image disappeared into a swirl of colors, leaving Wily desperate for one last peek.
“I saw my mom and Valor in danger,” Wily said, turning to the others.
“Fighting Stalag?” Pryvyd said with equal concern. “I did too.”
“So did I,” Odette said.
“And the danger is just as Kestrel described,” Wily said. “He was telling the truth about that.”
“Lumina could normally take down three gearfolk at a time,” Pryvyd said. “But she couldn’t with them. The gearfolk are far more powerful than before.”
“What are we going to do?” Odette said, lost in thought. “Even with our help, it may not be enough.”
Wily was wondering the very same thing. Seeing this had changed everything. They would need more to defeat Stalag and his fellow mages. Palojax, the great lair beast, was gone. How would they save the day this time?
“Up here,” Kestrel called from the end of the hall.
Wily moved to where his father was standing. Before them was a huge underground grotto. Just as Jayrus had said, a majestic wooden sailing ship was floating in the protected waters of the cave. It was roughly the size of the Coal Fox and appeared to be made of polished wood of all colors and sizes. Wily could only imagine how many hours, months, and years it had taken for a single person to build it. He watched it rock gently as waves lapped through the mouth of the cave.
Wily’s attention was drawn to the roof of the cavern. It appeared as if it was moving too. At first Wily thought it was the reflection of the rippling water below, but after a few moments of careful inspection, he realized he was staring not at a stone ceiling but rather hundreds of thousands of hanging bats.
“Out! Get out!” a voice called from the ship. “You’ll bring them in. They probably followed you. Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?”
“There are no vectrites on us,” Wily shouted in response.
“One could be hiding in your clothes,” the voice called. “Waiting to pop out and get me.”
“Wouldn’t your bats catch them?” Roveeka asked.
“Can’t be sure. Don’t want to take any chances.”
“Your visitors are not oglodytes,” Jayrus called out. “One is even an elf like you. Hear them out. You at least owe them that.”
A figure appeared on the deck of the ship. Wily squinted and could see an elf with hair as blue as Odette’s and ears just as pointy as hers. He was wearing well-pressed slacks and a starched shirt.
“Doesn’t seem like you’re a big fan of this island,” Odette said.
“I hate everything about it,” the Recluself said. “I’d have left a dozen years ago if I could.”
“Does the ship not fit through the exit of t
he grotto?” Roveeka asked.
“Of course it would,” the elf scoffed. “I was the Brine Baron’s master engineer. I never would have made a mistake like that. I measured the exit with a ruler many times.”
“Then why are you still here?” Wily asked. “Do you need people to help you sail?”
“I built it so that one person could sail it alone. All the ropes and sails have been automated with exact precision. I don’t need anyone.”
“So…,” Roveeka said.
“It’s the Eversteel Sea keeping me here,” the elf said. “The last time I was out there, I almost drowned. I barely made it to the shore alive.”
“But you didn’t…,” Roveeka replied.
“I can’t go back out there,” the elf said. “What if there is another storm? Or a tidal wave? What if I am knocked into the sea again? Once horrible. Always horrible.”
“You should give the ocean a second chance,” Kestrel said. “Everything and everyone deserves that.” It didn’t take Wily a second to understand that these last words were meant for him and not the Recluself.
“From my little experience,” Jayrus said, “the sea can be quite lovely.”
Roveeka interjected. “But I understand being scared. Lately, I haven’t been feeling very brave at all.”
“My brain knows the sea to be safe,” the elf said, “but my heart is less sure. A lot less sure. I keep thinking about the waves crashing over my head and the turtle dragon that knocked me off my last ship.”
“So you’re just going to stay here?” Odette asked.
“I will wait here until I know I will be completely safe on the Eversteel Sea,” the elf said.
“Nothing is completely safe,” Odette said. “And besides, the adventure of the new is what keeps us alive. It’s what keeps us moving forward. We all need to be hunting for our own treasure, so to speak, or we end up stuck in a cave. Waiting.” Wily could see that those last words meant more to Odette than they might have to the Recluself.
“We want to borrow your ship,” Pryvyd said. “We need to get off the island, no matter how safe or not it may be out on the ocean.”
“And I think you should come with us,” Odette said.
“I couldn’t,” the Recluself said.
“We can’t force you,” Odette said.
“Well … maybe you could. If you kidnapped me, I wouldn’t have a choice.”
“Is he asking us to take him captive?” Wily whispered to Pryvyd.
“He is indeed an unusual fellow,” Jayrus answered from nearby.
“Stay where you are,” Wily said. “We’re stealing your ship.”
“How dare you!” the Recluself cried. “If you want to get on board, take those rowboats to the ship. Then you can pull the ship out using the cave pulleys.”
The elf pointed to a trio of small-oared skiffs pulled up onto the cave floor.
“Even an automated ship,” Jayrus said, “needs a crew. We could all use an adventure. We will join you. Besides, after what you saw on the wall, it sounds like you need us.”
The other oglodytes all nodded under their nets as they boarded one of the three rowboats.
Wily and his companions boarded the other pair of rowboats and rowed their way out to the grand sailing vessel.
“Hurry up,” the Recluself said. “The tides are in our favor.” Then his voice changed to one of panic. “Actually, get away from me. Go back from where you came.” Then he changed his mind once more. “Then again, I couldn’t stand another night here.”
A rope ladder made it an easy climb aboard. When Wily got on deck, he was surprised by just how much attention had been paid to it. The Recluself might have been a terrified man, but he was also a master craftsman. He was sitting on the deck with his hands held over his head. Roveeka sat down to try to calm him.
“It’s a very beautiful ship,” she said. “Does it have a name?”
“Never bothered,” the elf said. “I guess I could call it the Sheer Terror.”
“I think you should work on a better name than that,” Roveeka answered.
Pryvyd and Moshul found the ropes that were connected to the cave pulleys. The thick lines stretched from the mast of the ship to the mouth of the cave. With some strong tugs, Moshul and the band of oglodytes were able to pull the ship out of the cave and into the sunshine.
Wily looked over to see the Recluself staring back at the dark grotto as the ship drifted into the sea.
“What a horrible place,” the elf muttered.
“Or rather the best place,” Jayrus said as he pulled the vectrite netting off his head.
“Let’s set sail back to Panthasos,” Pryvyd announced to the others. “There’s no time to waste.”
“No,” Wily said. “Stalag is too powerful with both his magic and Kestrel’s machines combined. We need something else to even the field.” Kestrel was already nodding in agreement. “We need to find the Eversteel Forge.”
Pryvyd and Odette, who had both witnessed the same destruction in the cave mural, were left considering this.
“I think you are right,” Odette said. “It may be our only chance.”
“We should go back to Lumina and the royal palace,” Pryvyd said. “We may never find the Eversteel Forge. How can we take that chance?”
“Hold on,” Odette said. “We are the best treasure hunters the world has ever seen. Who got to the center of the Maze of the Dissolved? We did. Who plundered Graymold Manor? We did. Who found the most valuable treasure of all in Carrion Tomb?” Odette gave Wily a big grin.
“We did,” Pryvyd said, unable to restrain a smile.
“We’ll find the forge,” Odette said. “I believe in us.”
Pryvyd sighed. “Okay. But if we don’t find it before sundown tomorrow, we head back to Panthasos.”
“Agreed,” Wily said. He turned to Kestrel. “This has nothing to do with the fact that you wanted us to do it. It just happens to be the best idea to save the kingdom.”
“I will assist in any way I can,” Kestrel replied with a gentle bow of his head.
“To the west!” Jayrus shouted as he gripped the wheel of the ship. “There is a world out there that needs our unzenbach.”
Wily guessed that unzenbach was another oglodyte word for “help.” He couldn’t be sure of the exact translation, but by the way Jayrus had said it … Wily couldn’t agree more.
14
DRAKESMITH ISLAND
“Turn a few degrees to the south,” Kestrel said to the oglodyte who had been steering the ship for the better part of a day. “There.” Kestrel, his hands no longer bound, pointed to a cloudy spot on the horizon. The webbed-handed fish creature turned the wheel, adjusting the direction of the sailing vessel.
Nearby, the Recluself was standing by the portside railing. Wily approached the elf, who was taking long, gulping breaths.
“I keep watching for the wave that will knock me into the sea,” the Recluself said. “It’s not coming. I know that now.”
“You sound disappointed,” Wily said. “You should be happy.”
“It means I could have left years ago,” the elf said. “I kept myself locked away for no good reason.”
“You’re out here now,” Wily said. “That’s what’s important. We all wish we could change some of the choices we made in the past.”
“But they’re what brought us to this moment,” Roveeka added, jumping into the conversation. “All we can do is learn and make better choices in the future.”
The Recluself continued to stare into the distance as his ship sailed swiftly through the night.
“Wily,” Kestrel said as he approached his son, “I’ve got something for you to roll around in your head. Once we get to Drakesmith Island, we will need to find the forge. Lucky for us, I know the riddle that holds the secret to the location. I’m curious to hear what you make of it.”
“I’m listening,” Wily said.
“I am too,” Roveeka added, “although riddles aren’t my strong s
uit.”
Kestrel began to intone in a singsongy voice:
To Drakesmith Island you must sail,
And climb upon the dragon’s tail
Beyond the earth where the dead drink milk,
One finds the grave of the pirate’s ilk.
Inside you go and there you’ll kneel
At the Temple’s Forge of Eversteel.
One thing Wily knew about riddles was they rarely made sense on first listen. And this one was no exception. Another thing Wily knew about riddles was that the answer would come at the strangest moment and suddenly seem as clear as the gooey ooze of an amoebolith. Back in Carrion Tomb, the Skull of Many Riddles had taught him to solve them quickly, but this one was rather tough.
“I was right,” Roveeka said. “I am terrible at riddles.”
“I’m not sure what to make of it either,” Wily said.
“You’re a Gromanov,” Kestrel said as he walked back toward the ship’s wheel and the oglodyte steering it. “I have faith in you.”
Wily let the wind blow through his curly locks. He hoped that once they reached Drakesmith Island, clues would present themselves. The choices would become clear. Yet right now, all he could do was ponder the strange meaning of the words that seemingly did not match up at all.
“One more thing,” Kestrel said as he put his hand on Wily’s shoulder. “You’ve got to start trusting me. I can see the way you look at me. I make the same face when I think there’s a trap about to spring. But I’m not a danger to you.”
“Why should I believe that?” Wily asked.
“Being locked away gives you a lot of time to think,” Kestrel said, “about what’s important and what’s not. I built countless machines. Ones more amazing than Panthasos had ever seen. But I should have been building a relationship with you. I didn’t realize until it was too late that you were my finest creation.”
Wily stared coldly back at his father.
“I’m not made of gears and levers. You didn’t make me. I just happen to be your son.”
“I’m not good at sharing my feelings,” Kestrel said, “but I’m trying.”
Snared: Voyage on the Eversteel Sea Page 12
