16 FOREST ENCOUNTER
JAKE TRIPPED OVER one of the guy ropes and went sprawling. As his knee smashed against a rock, his face twisted in silent agony. He looked around to check that no one had seen him, then picked himself up.
It was nearly ten at night, and most of the other guards were asleep. Clearly visible in the moonlight, three sentries, each with a lantern, stood on watch at the edge of the camp. Jake stood in the shadows behind the tents, observing the activity in Mina’s pavilion.
There was candlelight inside, and he could clearly see the projection of Talisman Kant and Mina Schlitz finishing their dinner. Finally Kant stood up, bowed and left. Jake watched the doctor’s silhouette cross over to his caravan, climb up and slam the door behind him.
Now was the time to act.
Jake’s hand was shaking as he retrieved the flint lighter that Nathan had given him. He knelt down, lit it and held the flame to the bundle of dried grass that he grasped in his other hand. The fire crackled into life as Jake placed it at the foot of the nearest tent. The dry canvas caught instantly and was soon engulfed in a brilliant blaze.
Everything happened at once: shouting guards emerged in confusion, the look-outs came running from their posts, and everyone started to gather water from the river. The fire spread rapidly, engulfing the row of tents.
When Jake saw Mina stride out of her pavilion in her dressing gown and march towards the burning wreckage, he darted through the shadows, around the edge of her tent, and ducked inside.
Jake’s heart beat at double speed as his eyes darted about the room in search of the silver box. The tent was sparsely furnished: a work desk, a small chest and a number of animal furs spread across the floor. On top of the desk there was a quill in a small china pot of green ink and a sheet of parchment, inscribed with neat, fresh script. The page’s heading contained familiar words:
GUESTS AT THE SUPERIA CONFERENCE,
CASTLE SCHWARZHEIM
Below this was a long list of names of every nationality: Italian, Spanish, Russian, Dutch … Next to each name, words were written: gold, tin, grain, fur, and so on. Jake quickly folded the parchment and wedged it in his inside pocket.
He realized he was losing focus: it was the box he’d come for. The drawers of the low chest revealed nothing. Jake swung round in desperation, and then his eyes found it, sitting in the centre of Mina’s camp bed. He opened it up and revealed two glass containers. One was a sealed capsule, with no obvious top or bottom, containing a quantity of a sticky yellow substance. The other was a corked bottle filled with a white powder. Jake took this out and examined it more carefully: the powder had the same consistency as bathroom talc.
Suddenly Jake noticed another small box by Mina’s pillow, out of which a thin, deadly red-backed snake emerged noiselessly. He gasped and dropped the bottle of powder.
Luckily, it didn’t break. Jake froze. He wanted to reach down and pick it up, but the snake hissed a diabolical warning. Then he heard footsteps approaching. He dived into a corner and covered himself with a fur rug just as Mina stepped in.
She retrieved a pair of leather gloves from the oak chest and quickly headed back outside. But in the doorway she paused, sensing that something was amiss. She turned slowly, saw the bottle on the ground and the silver box open on her bed. Then she discovered her red-backed snake dropping to the floor and setting off towards a mound of fur in the shadows.
From his hiding place Jake had a view of the serpent slithering towards him. Then he heard the chilling sound of Mina’s sword being unsheathed.
He gave a yell as he tossed the rug to one side, then overturned the chest in Mina’s direction and ducked under the bottom of the tent. He yanked out the main guy rope and the tent started to topple. He ran, but fell immediately: one leg was tangled in the ropes. He freed it, got to his feet and sprinted away from the camp towards the dark canopy of forest across the valley.
‘Stop him!’ Mina let out a bloodcurdling cry as she emerged from her collapsing pavilion.
Five cloaked guards rallied immediately; they armed themselves with bows and set off in pursuit of Jake’s retreating silhouette. At the edge of the wood he stopped, breathless, and looked back. Figures were approaching from three directions across the moonlit field. His hand shaking, he drew his sword from his scabbard. The weapon became entangled in his cloak and he struggled to release it.
Suddenly he heard a sharp noise and an arrow whistled past his head and struck a tree. For a second Jake was rooted to the spot; another quick salvo followed the first. His eyes went wide as the next missile flew straight towards him. With the force of a hammer it struck the centre of his breastplate, denting the metal and bouncing off with a hollow clang.
Jake turned and charged into the forest, his feet automatically finding their way through the trees, his hands shielding his face from the branches that whipped back at him. Still the arrows hissed past from every direction. Then there was a rush of air closer than the others; he heard the sound of tearing and felt a stab of pain. An arrow had grazed the side of his arm and sliced open the flesh above his elbow. He felt the wound with his hand and found a rush of hot blood.
His adrenaline kept him moving, his feet sure on the rutted forest floor. Then he heard a hunting horn and turned to see a group of mounted riders charging through the trees. All at once Jake’s foot caught on a root and he went flying. There was a crunch of branches as he struck the ground and somersaulted through the thorny undergrowth. Finally he hit a tree and his sword flew from his hand.
Jake opened his eyes and saw the moon shining brightly down through the awning of fir trees. He heard footsteps closing in on him and knew that this was the end. He felt so stupid. He wondered how he’d ever imagined that he could survive on his own against an army from another land and another time. The steps drew closer and a cloaked figure emerged from the dark undergrowth. It was the guard Jake had sat next to on the journey from Venice.
The boy’s eyes were blank, expressionless. He drew his sword and readied it for the kill. Then Jake’s instinct to survive kicked in. He leaped to his feet, reached for a fallen branch and hurled it at his assailant’s head. There was a hollow crack, the guard’s eyes flickered and he fell back, his skull hitting a tree.
Jake’s first impulse was to check that the boy was all right. As he looked down, he noticed the eyes flicker and half open. He was still alive.
This is war, Jake reminded himself. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered as he picked up his sword and took off. Once again his weapon became entangled in his cloak. ‘What is wrong with me?’ He cursed, this time ripping the material from his shoulder and discarding it.
The hunting horn sounded once more; the horses were gaining on him, snorting savagely, their hooves echoing through the dark conifers. Jake ran, blood pumping, breath rasping. The galloping drew closer. Within seconds the ground behind him was pounding, and the sweating flank of a stallion was at his side. Jake looked up and saw the rider’s ghostly silhouette against the moon. The shadow raised an axe and swung it down towards him.
Jake’s eyes went wide. In a flash, his mind filled with a kaleidoscope of visions: his mum and dad, his brother Philip, his house, his bedroom, his last birthday, the corridors of his school, and again his mother, father, brother. The axe swung down towards his face.
Time stopped.
The blade froze in mid-air, hovering above Jake. He looked up at the rider: he was falling sideways, his eyes empty. A dagger had struck him in the back.
A voice came out of nowhere. ‘Quickly! Here!’
Jake turned to see, behind him, another figure on a white horse, reaching out a gloved hand. ‘C’est moi, Topaz,’ he heard.
Jake’s heart leaped. She was wearing a cape and a hood that masked her face, but the golden hair was unmistakable. He jumped to his feet, grabbed her hand and sprang up onto the back of the white horse.
‘Hold on tight,’ Topaz cried breathlessly as she dug her heels into the horse’s flanks. It
galloped on through the forest. Jake was no expert at riding, but a friend of Philip’s had horses of his own, and he had picked up the basics: how to sit on a horse, to canter and gallop. Even so, Jake had never done any jumping or gone at such a breakneck speed. He concentrated on keeping his balance.
The remaining riders were closing in on them, and Jake could hear their shouts.
‘In the saddlebag there are fireworks,’ Topaz shouted back as her horse soared over a fallen tree.
‘Fireworks?’ he exclaimed.
‘It’s a long story. Light one – it’ll scare the wits out of them.’
Jake reached down and grabbed a bundle of rockets.
‘There are matches in there too.’
‘I have a lighter.’ Jake produced the device that Nathan had given him.
Topaz slowed down as he lit one of the fuses and hurled the firework towards their pursuers. With a loud whistle, the rocket exploded and a bolt of light shot through the trees in a brilliant cloud of indigo. Two of the horses reared up, whinnying and throwing their riders to the ground. Topaz’s horse, also startled by the explosion, quickened its pace, and she struggled to retain control. Jake lit another rocket and let it go. This one erupted even more dramatically into myriad blue and white stars. The flash of the third rocket was so dazzlingly intense, the remaining guards were blinded completely.
The terrified white mare was now bolting through the trees. Topaz calmly brought her under control, and they emerged from the forest and raced across the tapestry of moonlit fields, jumping hedges and streams. Once again Jake felt the thrill of adventure as the wind whipped past.
‘Charlie and I have been following you since the Veneto Tunnel,’ Topaz panted. ‘We were trying to choose the right moment. Mina Schlitz is not someone you want to mess with.’
‘You know her?’
‘We have history,’ Topaz replied enigmatically as she flicked the reins and they headed down into a valley.
Finally they reached a cluster of old farm buildings. They both dismounted, Topaz checking carefully that no one had followed them.
‘Are you badly hurt?’ she asked Jake, removing her scarf and passing it to him. ‘Tie it with this!’
Jake hesitated.
‘Take it!’ she insisted. ‘I’ve no social engagements this evening.’
Jake obeyed: he looped it around his elbow and pulled it tight.
‘Follow me,’ Topaz ordered, striding into a barn. ‘You look different with short hair,’ she commented. ‘Bolder.’
‘I’m so happy to see you alive,’ Jake gasped, secretly hoping that Topaz might stop and give him a welcoming hug. She didn’t. Instead, she swiftly made her way through the towers of hay bales.
‘We have no idea what happened to Nathan,’ she told him as she gave a series of knocks on the wooden wall in some kind of Morse code.
‘He came back to the ship – he gave me these,’ Jake replied, indicating what remained of his red cloak and breastplate.
‘We were wondering how you got your hands on them.’
Topaz’s taps were answered by coded knocks from the other side of the wall.
‘He was badly injured,’ Jake continued. ‘He gave himself up.’
‘I suppose they got Paolo as well.’ Topaz sighed. ‘Can’t see him putting up much of a fight.’ Again she tapped the code, and again the wall replied. ‘Just open the door, Charlie!’ she groaned in exasperation.
A panel of wood slid back, and Jake was greeted by the excited cries of Mr Drake, who flapped his multi-coloured feathers and did a circuit of the little storeroom.
‘I’m afraid I had you down as a goner,’ Charlie Chieverley told him, pushing his spectacles up his nose. ‘Though Topaz had money on you pulling through.’
Jake turned to her, a smile on his lips. She removed her hood and loosened her cape. He could see her clearly now. After nearly two days’ absence, she seemed more like a goddess than ever: her brilliant indigo eyes sparkled and her cheeks glowed with the thrill of danger. More than anything, Jake wanted to throw his arms around her, but decided it might be better to show his delight to Charlie instead. He hugged him with all his might. ‘Thank you for saving me! Both of you!’ he exclaimed.
Charlie pulled a quizzical face at Topaz as he was nearly choked to death.
‘I’ve been very busy,’ Jake informed them, finally releasing his friend. ‘You’ll be impressed. I’ve found out all sorts of information.’
‘First tell us,’ interrupted Topaz. ‘Have you seen Prince Zeldt? Was he in Venice? Have you heard any mention of him?’
‘I haven’t seen Zeldt,’ Jake continued as if he had been a spy all his life, ‘but Captain Von Bliecke is taking Nathan and Paolo to him now. He is at a place called Castle Schwarzheim.’
‘Castle Schwarzheim! I knew it!’ said Charlie, banging the wall. ‘Didn’t I say so?’ He turned to Jake. ‘You never know where he may be hiding. He has strongholds in every corner of history. They say Castle Schwarzheim, “the black home” – that’s the name he gave it, of course – is the most diabolical of them all.’
‘What else did you find out?’ asked Topaz.
Jake took a deep breath and looked at the other two gravely. ‘Mina Schlitz said it was “four days until apocalypse”.’
For a moment there was silence. Mr Drake screwed up his eye, and looked from one to the other.
‘What apocalypse?’ Topaz wanted to know.
Jake shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’
‘And she said that yesterday?’ she asked.
Jake nodded.
‘So now there are only three days …’
Topaz exchanged a serious look with Charlie, then turned to Jake. ‘You’d better tell us everything you know.’
17 THE DIABOLICAL TRIBE
JAKE RECOUNTED EVERY detail of his adventure – from the guards storming the Campana, to the discovery of the secret door in the confessional in St Mark’s Cathedral, to finding the architects’ drawings and the arrival of Mina Schlitz. He told them about the escape from Venice through the subterranean tunnel, the journey to Bassano, the rendezvous with the unnerving Talisman Kant and the discovery of the glass bottles. Finally he showed them the parchment he had taken from Mina’s desk – the list of names that was headed: Guests at the Superia Conference, Castle Schwarzheim.
After Jake had finished, Charlie and Topaz pondered everything for a while before speaking.
‘So, these building plans in Venice …’ Charlie finally asked. ‘What did they look like?’
‘Scary, like medieval science fiction,’ said Jake.
‘Those poor architects.’ Topaz shook her head. ‘We’ll have to get them out of there.’
‘And each of the drawings had the heading Superia?’ Charlie continued probing.
Jake nodded.
‘And did a mountain feature in any of the drawings? The summit of Superia?’
‘Not that I could see.’
‘And what about Talisman Kant?’ Topaz joined in the cross-examination. ‘You say Mina gave him a whole casket of gold for the contents of two glass bottles.’
‘Some honeycomb and some talcum powder,’ added Charlie dryly.
‘That’s what they looked like,’ Jake insisted.
‘Very expensive honeycomb and talcum powder,’ Charlie sighed.
‘So you know Talisman Kant, do you?’ asked Jake.
‘Never been formally introduced,’ Topaz replied, ‘but his reputation goes before him. Excessively nasty piece of work – not a moral bone in his body. He calls himself a “scientist” and conducts experiments on his own family, which explains that son of his. Still, his wife was even worse off: she ended up having her legs dissolved in acid.’
‘So does he work for Prince Zeldt?’
‘Long ago,’ Charlie said, ‘he was a member of the History Keepers. After it was discovered that he had been corresponding with Ivan the Terrible, suggesting methods of mass torture, it became clear that he didn’t have the in
terests of the world at heart and he was unceremoniously dismissed. Now he’ll work for anyone, anywhere in history, providing the price is right. Let me see that list of names again.’
Jake passed him the piece of parchment he had stolen from Mina’s tent.
‘Guests at the Superia Conference …’ Charlie mused. ‘This is an impressive line-up.’
‘Who are they?’ asked Jake.
‘I recognize some of them. Sixteenth-century billionaires, merchants, traders, mining tycoons … The notes by their names give us clues as to where they made their money. What on earth is Zeldt up to? The whole business is as clear as mud.’
‘Wait a minute – let me have a look,’ said Topaz, taking the list. A thought had suddenly occurred to her. ‘Mon Dieu! We’ve been so stupid,’ she announced. ‘The answer’s right here. Guests at the Superia Conference … Find the Summit of Superia. The summit is not a mountain, it’s the conference itself!’
Charlie took the list and cast his eyes over it again. ‘Miss St Honoré, you surpass yourself.’
‘Now we have double the reason to reach Castle Schwarzheim – and quickly,’ Topaz said decisively, gathering up her belongings.
‘Where is it?’ Jake wondered.
‘En Allemagne – Germany. It’s a two-day journey over the Alps. There’s not a moment to lose. Charlie, have you fixed the axel on that cart?’
‘I may not have solved the riddle of the Superia Summit’ – Charlie shrugged – ‘but I am still an engineering genius.’
‘You wouldn’t need to be an engineering genius if you hadn’t been conned by that dealer in Padua.’ Topaz turned to Jake. ‘He spent all our money on a glorified wreck.’
‘And two of the finest horses I have ever set eyes upon,’ Charlie defended himself.
‘I have money,’ said Jake helpfully, trying to ease the tension.
Topaz checked through a spy-hole that the coast was clear, slid the door back and led the way out of the barn to the offending cart. Jake actually thought it looked quite good. Two sturdy-looking bay horses were drinking from a water trough – along with Topaz’s white mare.
The History Keepers: The Storm Begins Page 14
