Peter and the Secret of Rundoon

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “What are you talking about?” said Leonard.

  “You will see,” groaned Ombra, “soon enough.” He turned to the guards and said something in the Rundoon language. Then he glided away down the corridor, leaving Leonard and Peter staring at each other through the bars.

  “What does he mean?” said Peter. “What’s he going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Leonard. “I…”

  He was silenced by a guard who banged against the cell bars, shouting. Neither Leonard nor Peter understood him, but it was clear he did not want them to talk. Peter and Leonard stood looking at each other for a few more seconds. Each saw despair in the other’s eyes. They were trapped and helpless, and Molly was in danger. Molly was in danger.

  Leonard shifted his gaze to look after Bakari. Peter turned and walked to the back wall of his cell, slumping to the floor. James started to say something to him, but a shout from a guard cut him off. There would be no more talking. Under the vigilant eyes of the guards, the prisoners sat silent, each in his own world of helplessness and hopelessness. In time, as the slow minutes ticked past, the prisoners dozed, and the only movement in the dungeon was the flickering of the torch flames…

  …and one other thing. Down the dim corridor, a few yards from where the sleepy guards watched over their sleeping captives, a tiny glowing form was climbing, inch by agonizing inch, up the wall toward a window. She was exhausted and had to pause often to rest. But at last she reached the window opening and pulled herself through the bars to the narrow ledge outside. There she rested for a half hour, trying to regain her strength, knowing that each passing minute increased the danger.

  Finally, she rose on wobbly legs, set her wings vibrating, and leapt forward. She dropped almost to the ground before she found the lift she needed, then slowly began to rise, up and up, above the palace complex and over the wall, hovering there, studying the stars to get her bearings. Then, hoping for a favorable wind, she set off, a tiny bright speck in the unspeakable vastness of the desert night.

  CHAPTER 33

  THE ALLIANCE

  FIGHTING PRAWN, on bleeding knees, once again raised the heavy stone over his head and once again slammed it down. He grimaced as the stone struck the hard lava, blasting a cloud of stinging rock chips into his face. He wiped the sweat and dust from his eyes, glancing around to see how his men were doing, keeping an eye out for the Scorpion guards.

  He and his warriors were toiling deep under the mountain inside a twisting tunnel left by escaping lava. It was as if a giant worm had dug its way to the surface a thousand years before. The tunnel air was stale and smoky from the sputtering torches, their flickering light causing the workers’ shadows to dance on the dark walls.

  The men were forced to work without food or water. If a man stopped pounding rock, Scorpion guards would kick and whip him. Hour after hour, the workers pounded their stones against the jagged lava rock, breaking off chunks, which were hauled out in baskets by the Mollusk children—for what purpose, Fighting Prawn did not know.

  There were pirates down there, too, forced to work alongside their former Mollusk enemies. Fighting Prawn had managed to speak to one briefly, before the guards stopped him.

  “They didn’t get all of us,” the pirate had whispered. “There’s some that got away. Maybe there’s hope for us.”

  Fighting Prawn only shook his head. What could a handful of pirates do against the Scorpions? He thought about trying to lead an uprising, but his men had no weapons other than the stones, which would be of little use against the spears and knives of the guards. Besides, his men were hungry and exhausted; many were bleeding from cuts inflicted by the sharp rocks or the Scorpions’ blows. Fighting Prawn knew they could not hold out much longer.

  He worried, too, about the children, forced to drag the heavy baskets, shoved and kicked by the snarling guards. He had caught one heartbreaking glimpse of his youngest daughter, Little Scallop, but had not yet seen Shining Pearl. He knew Shining Pearl could be headstrong. He hoped she hadn’t gotten into trouble with the Scorpions.

  Shining Pearl crept toward the murmur of men’s voices. She was hungry and soaking wet. A steady rain fell; water dripped from every leaf, turning the ground into slippery black muck. Everything smelled of rot and decay. Shining Pearl wished she were home in the village, surrounded by her family, with a warm fire burning and the smell of cooking fish on the wind.

  Close to the voices now, she gently drew an enormous leaf out of the way and saw a group of seven men—pirates—crouched in a clearing. She hesitated, then took a breath and stepped bravely forward.

  “Hello,” she said, using the English she had learned from her father.

  Six of the seven men leapt to their feet, drawing knives. The seventh pirate, a little round man, fell over backward.

  “It’s a girl!” said one of the men.

  “It’s one of them local savages,” said another, stepping forward. He grabbed Shining Pearl by the arm and leaned his face in close to hers. His grip was painful; his breath was awful. “What’re you doing on this side of the island, missy?” he said.

  “I…I…” Shining Pearl stammered.

  “You what?” said the pirate, shaking her arm.

  “Here, now,” said the round little man, struggling to his feet. “She’s just a girl. She ain’t done nothing. Let her go.”

  To Shining Pearl’s surprise, the man holding her arm said, “Aye, Cap’n Smee,” and released her. Evidently this little man, Smee, was in charge.

  “Here now, little girl,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m hungry,” she said. She thought, And I’m lonely, but didn’t say it.

  “We’re all hungry,” muttered one of the men.

  “Quiet!” snapped Smee. Shining Pearl could tell by the look on the faces of the other pirates that they were taken aback by his tone. He turned back to Shining Pearl and said, “Where’s your family, little girl?”

  “They…they…” Shining Pearl put her face into her hands, sobbing. She was furious at herself for breaking down, but she couldn’t help it.

  Smee put his hand on her shoulder.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  “They took my family,” she sobbed. “The Scorpions took them all. I ran away, but there’s nowhere to go. I can’t go back to the village. Those horrible men…” She sobbed some more, her shoulders quaking.

  “There, there,” said Smee. “You can come with us, to the fort.”

  This brought grumbles from the other pirates.

  “We’ve got enough troubles already,” said the biggest of the men. “We don’t need no girl slowing us down.”

  Smee faced the men. “I’m acting cap’n,” he said. “And I say she comes with us to the fort.”

  The men glared back; Shining Pearl could tell they were on the verge of rebellion. She cleared her throat.

  “You can’t go to your fort,” she said.

  All eyes turned to her. “Why not?” said Smee.

  “The Scorpions are there, too,” she said.

  “How do you know that?” said the big man.

  “I’ve just come from there,” said Shining Pearl. “The Scorpions found your fort and they captured the rest of your…pirate friends.”

  “How come they didn’t capture you?” said the big man.

  “They did, when they came to our village. But I escaped into the jungle and headed to your fort, thinking…”

  “Yes?” said Smee. “Thinking what?”

  “Thinking maybe we could help each other.”

  The pirates snickered—all but Smee.

  “But if you was already over at the fort,” he said, “how did you get here so quick?”

  “I know this island,” said Shining Pearl. “I know all the paths and the hiding places. I know it a lot better than the Scorpions do.” One by one, she looked each pirate in the eye. “And better than any of you do.”

  The men scowled and exchanged g
lances.

  “All right, then,” said Smee. “Seems to me it’s a good thing that…What’s your name, little girl?”

  “Shining Pearl.”

  “Seems to me,” continued Smee, “it’s a good thing Shining Pearl found us. Seems to me maybe we can help each other out.” He looked around. “Any of you men want to argue?”

  None of the men spoke.

  “All right, then,” said Smee. “Shining Pearl, welcome to the crew.”

  CHAPTER 34

  THE BORROWED CAMEL

  MOLLY AND GEORGE found it more difficult than they expected to get off the Michelle. Leonard Aster, well aware of Molly’s tendency to take matters into her own hands, had left orders with Captain Stavis that the two children were to be watched closely, and Captain Stavis had relayed these orders to the crew.

  But sailors being sailors, and a port being close at hand, it was not long before the crew became distracted. By the second evening, Molly and George, having waited impatiently all day, saw their chance to sneak off. As darkness fell, with the crew dozing after a bit too much food and grog, they sneaked onto the ship’s deserted main deck and tiptoed down the gangway to the dock.

  Once ashore, they ducked behind a huge pile of traps next to a stone building; the traps reeked of dead fish.

  “Now what?” whispered George.

  “One thing for sure,” said Molly. “We must get away from these awful traps.”

  “We can’t go ’round in these clothes,” said George. “We need robes, like the one your father wore.”

  Molly nodded. “I saw laundry lines from the ship, by a big house up that way. We can borrow some robes.”

  “Borrow?” said George.

  “Desperate times,” said Molly, “call for desperate measures.”

  “What does that mean?” said George.

  “It’s an expression my father uses: it means sometimes you have to borrow a robe,” said Molly. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out some coins, the last of the French money her mother had given her. “Besides, we’ll leave this as partial payment. Come on.”

  The streets were nearly empty, as most of Ashmar was having supper; nevertheless, Molly and George kept to the narrow alleys as they moved away from the harbor and up a hill, their mouths watering as the aroma of cooking wafted out of every house they passed.

  “There,” Molly whispered. Just ahead was a whitewashed stone house, much larger than its neighbors, with a fine view of the harbor. Along the side of the house was a clothesline, on which hung a half dozen white robes. Next to the clothesline, kneeling in a patch of dirt and contentedly chewing its cud, was a camel.

  Molly and George looked around. The street was deserted. With nightfall now complete, they crept in darkness around the side of the house, took the two smallest-looking robes off the clothesline, and put them on. George’s fit fine; Molly’s was too large, but she rolled and tucked it until it was serviceable. When they were dressed, Molly put the coins on a stone next to the clothesline and whispered, “Let’s go.”

  George didn’t move. He was looking at the camel.

  “Why don’t we borrow this as well?” he whispered.

  “Are you insane?” hissed Molly.

  “Molly, we’ve got to go miles across the desert,” George said. “On foot it could take us forever.”

  “But we don’t know how to ride a camel.”

  “It’s got a sort of saddle,” said George, eyeing the wooden contraption strapped to the camel’s back. “How different can it be from a horse?”

  Molly frowned. She didn’t like the idea of taking a camel—stealing was the word for it, she knew—but they were desperate. She had to find her father and Peter.

  “All right,” she said.

  Quickly, George untied the camel. Then he and Molly climbed into the saddle, wedging themselves in, George in front and Molly in back. George dug his heels into the camel’s sides and said, “Up!”

  Slowly, the camel turned its head and looked back with an expression of what appeared to be annoyance. It turned its head forward again and resumed chewing its cud.

  “Fine bit of horsemanship,” said Molly.

  “I suppose you can do better,” said George.

  “I’m not the one who said he could ride a camel,” said Molly.

  George, irritated now, brought his legs out farther and kicked the camel hard. This time the camel, rather than turning around, raised its head and emitted a loud, unhappy, gurgling sound. From inside the house came a shout.

  “Someone’s heard us!” said Molly.

  George kicked the camel again; the camel responded with another protest, this one even louder.

  Now Molly and George heard several shouting voices and running feet.

  “They’re coming!” Molly said. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  Molly struggled to get out of the saddle, hampered by her bulky robe and the tight quarters. George, determined to dominate the camel, kicked it yet again. “Up, you mangy beast!” he hissed. This time the camel whirled its head around and spit at him. George leaned violently backward, knocking his head into Molly’s. A wad of camel spit sailed past.

  “Ow!” she said. “George, let me out of this saddle!”

  Just then, four men, two holding swords, burst around the corner of the house. Catching sight of George and Molly, they charged toward the camel, shouting angrily, their faces filled with fury. Now George and Molly were both trying frantically to climb out of the saddle, but they and their robes were too entangled. Molly thought about using the starstuff in her locket but could not get to it in time. They had no chance to escape—the first shouting man was almost upon them, drawing back his sword, and…

  …and stopping short as a brilliant streak of light flashed in front of him, inches from his eyes. The man jerked backward abruptly, causing the second man to run into him, and the third and fourth to run into both of them. The men went down in front of the camel in a clattering, shouting heap.

  “Tink!” shouted Molly.

  Tink responded with a burst of chimes that Molly did not understand. It wasn’t aimed at her, anyway; Tink was saying something to the camel. Instantly, the beast got up, the sudden motion almost pitching George and Molly out of the saddle. But they hung on as the camel, urged on by Tink, got to its feet and lurched forward toward the street. One of the fallen men managed to lunge at the camel as it passed. He grabbed Molly’s leg, jerking it down and back. Molly screamed in pain. George lashed out and kicked the man’s head; he grunted and let go. The camel reached the street and turned right. George clung to the saddle and Molly to George, as the camel, responding to Tink’s chimes, went from a trot to a gallop. From behind, they heard the sounds of angry voices and running feet. Neither looked back. The sounds receded.

  In minutes they were at the edge of the city and then on a road going into open desert. The camel slowed down to a swaying walk. The night closed around them.

  “Are you all right?” said George.

  “Yes,” said Molly, though her leg throbbed. “I’m fine.” She leaned around George and spoke to Tink, who now sat atop the camel’s head between its floppy ears, looking forward.

  “Thanks, Tink,” she said. “You found us just in time.”

  Tink turned and, with an expression that was slightly less disdainful than the one she usually used toward Molly, chimed a response. Then she chimed again, and again, more earnestly.

  “What is she so worked up about?” said George.

  Molly shook her head. “I can’t understand bell-speak,” she said. “But I think I recognized one bit. It’s Peter she’s worried about.” She looked out at the vast darkness of the desert. “And it’s Peter she’s taking us to.”

  CHAPTER 35

  THE NIGHT CARAVAN

  THE BOYS AWAKENED to the sound of the cell door opening. Peter blinked his eyes open and saw at least a dozen guards gathered in the corridor. He looked out the window; it was still night.

&n
bsp; “What’s happening?” whispered James.

  “I don’t know,” said Peter as several of the guards entered the cell, shouting and gesturing for the boys to stand. One of them kicked the still-sleeping form of Tubby Ted.

  “Ow!” he said, then “Ow!” again as the guard yanked him to his feet. “What are they doing? It’s dark out! Wh…OW!”

  A clout on the ear silenced Ted, who was herded into the corridor along with the other boys. Peter exchanged concerned glances with Leonard Aster and Bakari, who, awakened by the noise, stood in their cell watching. Hook was also awake; as usual he brooded silently in the shadows of his cell.

  The guards organized the boys into a line, then moved them forward to the monkey cell, where they stopped. A guard unlatched the cell door and another guard, looking none too happy, slipped inside the smelly cell, holding a stick with a loop of rope at the end of it. The monkeys screeched and leapt about, avoiding the guard. He seemed to be after a specific one, and with considerable effort, he finally managed to ensnare it, getting the loop around its body and then quickly pulling it taut. He carried the monkey, shrieking and squirming, out of the cell and got it into a cage, which was quickly closed. Two guards picked it up.

  The little convoy—boys, guards, and caged monkey—moved forward a few more yards, then stopped again, this time at what appeared to be a locked storage room. Two of the guards went inside and emerged a minute later. Peter gasped when he saw what they were carrying: suits made of golden mesh.

  Peter had seen this kind of suit twice before: the first time had been on Mollusk Island, when golden-garbed Starcatchers handled the starstuff that Peter and Molly had managed to rescue from the Others. The second time had been at Stonehenge—Leonard Aster had worn such a suit to protect himself from the same starstuff when he brought it to the Return. Peter knew the suits were for handling starstuff. But for whom? And more important: where?

  The guards barked, and the parade started moving again, down the dungeon corridor and then out into the clear desert night. Just as Peter was about to step through the doorway, one of the guards tied a rope around his waist, knotting it tightly, then secured the other end around his own waist. Peter would not be flying anywhere.