by Vered Ehsani
“Let me see!” Samuel protested, trying to pull away. “I’m not a baby. Sara’s wrong.”
“No, Samuel,” I said quietly but firmly. “She’s not.” Sickened, I turned away, pushing a protesting Samuel ahead of me. Now I knew why history had recorded so few survivors. The pirates must have noticed the Excalibur was heading for trouble and decided to take advantage of the easy prey.
“Ashish.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” I said urgently, wondering where the yellow-eyed man was and why I could hear his voice so clearly despite the noise of the storm. We ran across the deck to the farthest side, away from the approaching pirates, Sara rolling the barrel ahead. I peered over the railing. We were right above the rocks, which lay submerged under a couple feet of water. It seemed a long way down. I glanced toward the shadowy shore and saw with relief that beyond the rocks, the water was much calmer. All we had to do was get down and away from the ship. Couldn’t be that difficult, right? As I stood there indecisively, trying to think while warding off the rising panic, Sara moved off to one side and stooped down to pull a rope ladder out of the shadows. With a grunt, she tossed it over the side.
“I’ll go first,” she stated in a tremulous voice, after glancing down at the dark water. With a weak smile, she started down the ladder. That’s one brave ancestor.
Someone shouted. I twisted about and saw that the pirates were considerably closer. Not sure if we had been spotted, I crouched down low and gestured to Samuel to do the same. Sara by this point had splashed down into the water.
“Ash, toss the barrel down!”
I did so, and then turned to Samuel. “You go next.”
Samuel peered over the side. It looked very far down. He shook his head.
“Samuel, come on!” Sara shouted.
I didn’t dare look behind to check if the pirates had heard us. I really hoped not. There was no time to argue, either. I hooked my arms under Samuel’s armpits and, with a grunt, I scooped the protesting boy up and lowered him over the other side of the railing.
“Now start climbing down!” Sara shouted, annoyance and fear evident in her voice.
While I waited for Samuel to inch downward, I glanced toward the pirate ship. What I saw sent a freezing fear rushing through me. (You’d think I’d be used to being frozen by fear by now.) Climbing out of the door leading to the lower decks was the tall man with the crazy yellow eyes. His face was still obscured by a hood, but he was definitely looking in our direction. Misshapen shadows followed him, tentacles uncoiling across the deck.
“Kali,” I whispered through a constricted throat. Who else could it be?
Watch the shadows. Keep moving.
Raising an arm, Kali pointed at me and hissed in a threatening and venomously angry tone, “I know who you are, Ashish. You can’t hide forever.” His hood slipped back slightly, and I gasped at the trick of light and shadow. The man’s previously handsome face was twisted into a grotesque mask of gleaming white bone with jagged teeth; the yellow in the eye sockets glowed so brightly they seemed to be alight with fire and pierced through the cloud of darkness that swirled about him. The illusion only lasted a heartbeat, and as the man took a step toward us, he appeared almost normal again, apart from the crazy yellow eyes and the shadow creatures.
“Faster, Samuel!” I shouted as I clambered over the railing and began climbing down, my feet just above Samuel’s head. The steps sagged as I lowered myself on them, the rough rope cut at my hands, and the whole ladder twisted and seemed to threaten to unbalance me. Something swished over my head, and I looked up to see a pale claw-like hand reaching for me. Kali’s eyes glittered triumphantly while his mouth was twisted into a snarl.
“Open the veil, Ashish!” he growled as shadowy arms began to ooze over the railing toward the ladder.
“Not likely! Change of plans,” I grunted as I let go of my grip and pushed away from the ship’s side. The cold water swirled briefly over my head before I popped up, spluttering as the cold seeped into my clothes. I climbed onto the submerged rocks to stand beside Sara, and glanced upward in time to see a scowling face reluctantly retreat from the side. The shadows followed.
“Why didn’t they come down after me?” I wondered aloud.
“Who?” Sara demanded as she helped Samuel off the ladder.
“Ah, never mind. Samuel, if you want, you can sit inside the barrel.” Then, turning to Sara, I asked, “Can you swim?”
Sara swallowed hard and then stated, “I suppose, in a sort of way. Well, not really, but if I can hold onto the barrel, I should be able to. I think.”
“Good enough,” I stated with way more confidence than I actually felt. I wished I was as brave. “Just hold on and kick. We’ll head toward shore at a slight angle, so as to move in the opposite direction of the pirates, just in case they come around the ship. Let’s go.”
“I really hope that preacher was right about angels,” Samuel whispered, a worried frown creasing his forehead.
Sara opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it. With one backward glance at the ship, we slid into the water. Although the rocks blocked the worst effects of the storm, the water was still rough enough to hinder our progress. Oh, and did I mention it was really cold? The shock of it seized at my lungs, while waves drenched our heads and the wind added to the chill. After only a minute in the water, it was nearly unbearable. There was very little light, apart from a slice of moon that struggled to peer through the dark, thunderous clouds and from the fires burning atop the pirates’ torches as they swarmed over the ship.
“Land’s getting closer,” I murmured through blue lips after some time, although I wasn’t sure if it was to encourage Sara or reassure myself.
“Ash,” Sara said through chattering teeth, “are we really getting any closer?”
I peered ahead. Despite the blanket of storm clouds, there was enough light from the moon to just make out the form of land ahead of us. Something seemed a bit strange.
“We’re getting closer,” I whispered back hesitantly. I knew there was something really obvious that I was missing, but my brain was too numb with cold, shock, and fatigue to grasp it. We kept kicking onward, our vision filled with the beckoning land that seemed too far away.
“Look,” Samuel finally spoke after some time, “there’s a boat!”
I wearily turned my head to look. A rowboat was moving through debris from the ship, and heading in the general direction of the shore. We were swimming straight for it.
“It’s the pirates,” Sara whispered, her voice squeaky with fear.
I struggled to comprehend. “That’s not possible. We should be farther away from them. We were swimming away. Why are we so close?” In my bewilderment, I stopped kicking, and that’s when I felt it. We were caught in a current. Although we were gradually approaching the shore, we were mainly travelling parallel to it.
“What do we do?” Sara asked breathlessly, having reached the same conclusion. I wished I knew. We clung onto the barrel, legs dangling uselessly in the water.
I licked my lips. They were cracked and coated with salt. I suddenly realized how thirsty I was and wondered how long we had been swimming for. It felt like hours, maybe days, but I figured it really couldn’t be that long.
“Ash!” Sara whispered fiercely. “Don’t leave me!”
I shook my head to clear it and realized that I could no longer feel anything. I was fading, becoming translucent again. It was so tempting. Just drift away and let history take care of itself.
“Focus,” I ordered myself fiercely. Sara looked startled at my harsh tone. Cold water splashed at me again and I could feel the aches in my hand that was clutching at the scratchy wooden barrel. I glanced toward the rowboat. There were several men in it, their voices barely discernable as they bent over some crate that was slowly sinking below the waves.
“Samuel,” I said, “lie down in the bottom of the barrel and don’t move or make a sound.” I glanced up at the younger boy and
noted with relief that he was wearing dark clothes. “And cover your head with your jacket.”
“But why?” he complained. “It’s wet down there. My feet are cold.”
“If you’re at the bottom,” I explained, trying to be patient despite the urgency of the situation, “they won’t be able to see you, even if they glance inside.” At least I desperately hoped that was true, but I kept my voice confident. With a nod from Sara, Samuel disappeared. We could hear him settling in the bottom of the barrel, and then he was quiet.
“What about us?” Sara whispered. We were now close enough to the rowboat to see the faces of the pirates.
Really good question. “Come around to this side of the barrel,” I whispered. “Go under water as much as you can.” We shifted around so that the barrel screened us, and changed our hand grip from the top of the barrel to the bottom metal strap that encircled the base. Not exactly the most solid grip, but it was enough to hang on. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, we submerged our shoulders and necks. Cold water stung our skin and lapped at our hair. This was so not comfortable. We allowed the current to carry us. A few minutes later, it carried us close to the pirates’ rowboat—of course. I could hear the breathing of the men as they hauled up whatever they deemed valuable.
“What’s in that?” a voice slurred out, and there was a thump on the barrel as an oar landed on the rim. The barrel tilted slightly toward the rowboat, and I held my breath, praying with great sincerity they wouldn’t see Samuel. “Bah, empty,” the same voice responded to itself, and the barrel bobbed as the oar pushed it away.
Relief and gratitude warmed me momentarily, but it didn’t take long for the numbing cold to settle in. Did I write it was really cold? Actually, it was beyond cold. More like liquid nitrogen cold. Did you know that if you put a fresh flower in liquid nitrogen, the flower will instantly freeze, and if you drop it, it will shatter? Yeah, well, now you know: we were in that kind of cold. I felt like I would shatter if I bumped against anything more solid than the waves.
We continued to drift along, and the pirates’ lamps became smaller until they were no more than pinpricks of light in a dark swathe of night. Then even that light was obscured as we floated into a small bay. I wasn’t only cold, I was exhausted. I barely noticed when we scraped against the rocky bottom of the beach. I couldn’t feel my legs as Sara and I dragged the barrel up to the tree line. I was too cold and tired to do anything more. I guess I just assumed that we were safe from the pirates and anything that might be lurking in the trees. Wordlessly, we collapsed onto the ground and immediately fell asleep.
Chapter 8
Then the weirdest thing happened. Well, maybe not the weirdest thing compared to everything else, but still pretty crazy. I woke up feeling pretty yucky and stiff, but I could smell bacon! I could also feel wood beneath my cheek, and wondered if I had fallen asleep on a tree root. That would explain the jolt of pain as I tried to move my creaking neck.
“Are you guys okay?” I mumbled thickly. I automatically assumed the aroma of cooking was a dream, or wishful thinking. I really have to be careful about making assumptions. It was a real bad habit that caused all sorts of problems. “Sara? Samuel?” There was no response. Wearily, I peeled my eyes open. I mean, I really had to struggle with opening them. I was in my bedroom.
Yeah, that’s the weird part. I mean, one minute, I was falling asleep on a beach at the edge of a forest, soaking wet, freezing cold, having just saved my ancestors from certain death by drowning or pirate sword. And then, what do you know, I woke up back in my bedroom with my head plastered to my desk at a really painful angle!
Somehow between passing out exhausted and waking up stiff and sore, I had shifted back home, without being aware of it. The Book of History was closed. I knew it had been open the night before. As I tried to wake up completely and figure out what to do next, all thoughts of bacon and stiff necks vanished in a blinding flash of fear. What about Samuel and Sara? And then, I have to admit, another thought pushed itself forward, a nasty and insidious worm of doubt. Had it all been a dream? Well, it was a fair question, wasn’t it!
My fingers were shaking. I had to find out. Nervously, I opened the book and flipped through, searching for the picture of the Excalibur in the grip of a storm. It had been near the beginning. I knew for sure it had been, but it was no longer there. My stomach clenching painfully, I started over again, this time forcing myself to slow down, to study every picture. This time, I found it, but it was faded. Barely daring to believe anything, I turned to the next page, dreading what I might see. I gasped at the brightly painted picture and jumped up in alarm. Sara was lying alone on a rocky beach, a battered barrel beside her. And behind her, creeping out of the trees toward the beach, its bright yellow eyes glowing lethally, was the shadowy form of a cougar.
“No!” I shouted, as if I could actually wake Sara up from over here and warn her of the danger stalking her.
“Ashish?” my mom called from outside the closed door. “Are you okay? We’re having breakfast before we go visit your Uncle Alim in the hospital. Hurry up.”
“Yeah, Mom,” I responded automatically. Completely disoriented, I sat back down, still staring at the picture. What day was it? My mind went blank for a moment. Saturday. I had gone into the ship Friday evening. I had been away for one night. Or had I? Had I gone anywhere? That just wasn’t nice, doubting my own experiences. I rubbed my eyes. They felt bleary and my lips were cracked, just as if I’d been swimming for my life in the ocean! But my clothes were dry.
It hadn’t been a dream. I knew that. Plus, my hands ached from gripping the barrel and my legs … I felt stiff muscles in places I didn’t know I had any muscles. I could hear my mom calling everyone, and I glanced at the door and then back at the book. My hand brushed over the picture, and I could feel the world shimmer around me. Ha! It was real! I would just go in quickly, I told myself, warn Sara, and explain I had to go away for a while.
“I’ll be quick,” I promised the empty room—more of that talking to myself stuff—and placed my hand on the picture. I didn’t hang around in the veil but plunged through, hoping that my dramatic entrance would scare off the cougar. Of course, it would probably give Sara serious heart problems, but at least she wouldn’t be cat food. I landed (sort of) on the beach, floating and translucent, ready to make loud noises to chase the beast away.
Sara and the cougar were not there.
I was scared now. I moved toward the barrel. Deep scratches were engraved on it. I forced myself to look inside, really hoping I wouldn’t see anything nasty in there. It was empty. Relief rushed through me, followed by a new fear: where were they? All sorts of horrible images flooded my mind, and anxiety filled any empty space left over.
I blinked. The sunlight faded, as if a shadow had crossed over it. I blinked again and rubbed my eyes (although I couldn’t feel anything—oh, the weirdness just kept on coming). The trees looked more gnarled and twisted than they had a moment before. I shook my head, trying to get rid of my fear, and glanced around the area. There was no sign of blood or a struggle. Could cougars carry off two children so easily?
I decided to explore the edge of the forest. Maybe they were just hiding there, to escape the pirates. That would be a smart thing to do, way smarter than falling asleep on a beach, clearly visible to all possible enemies. I focused on moving, but instead I slipped backward. No, not slipped. I was being pulled gently but surely backward toward the veil. There was no way to fight the force of it. From a long distance away, I could hear the echo of someone calling me. Then a loud knocking sound reverberated all around me, although I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“I’ll come back,” I promised, although no one was around to hear my noble words. I really had to stop that thing I did: talking aloud to myself. Reluctantly, I zoomed back into my room, just as my door burst open. Shanti stood in the doorway, fists on her hip.
“A closed door means privacy,” I snapped. Shanti’s eyebrows rose in surpri
se at my unusually fierce tone. I took a deep breath. “Sorry, I just prefer—”
“I did knock; you were asleep, and Mom would prefer if you would join us for a meal,” Shanti interrupted primly. She arched her eyebrows higher and tapped a foot impatiently. Reluctantly, I stuffed the Book of History into the bag I always carried around now, to help ward off the shadows, and followed my sister downstairs. Breakfast smelled good, but my mind was still on the rocky beach. What had happened while I had been sleeping?
“Glad you could join us!” Dad greeted me jovially, his burly frame bouncing and his broad face filled with a wide smile. His small, dark eyes twinkled merrily.
“You look tired, angel,” Mom mentioned with concern.
“Yeah, a bit,” I responded absently, barely noticing her use of my least favorite nickname. I swept food onto my plate and wondered if Samuel and Sara had eaten at all. Okay, I felt guilty, even as I gobbled down large mouthfuls of breakfast.
“Is there a fire you’re racing to put out?” Mom asked dryly while Shanti, standing behind her, mimicked her perfectly. “And stop doing that,” she ordered.
“How did you know?” Anjali asked incredulously.
“I have eyes in the back of my head.”
“We don’t believe that anymore, Mom,” Gita retorted. “We checked.”
“And yet,” Mom rejoined, “I still see everything.”
I finished eating and stated, “I have homework. Can I be excused?”
Mom’s eyebrows arched upward. “You know we promised to visit Uncle Alim. I think you can afford a couple of hours.”
Mental note: I should really be more careful what I promise. Irritated and agitated doesn’t fully describe my state. I waited impatiently for everyone to finish breakfast and then followed them out to the mini-van. I remained silent throughout the journey, gazing vacantly out the window. Did time pass at the same rate there as here? Wearily I followed the others into the hospital, wishing I could get some real sleep.
