“And then?”
“And then we decide our next move and if I need to come with you.”
I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
We walked back to the treasure chest, and I stared into it. I was scared to death, but I knew I had to go. There was no turning back now.
I put one foot in the chest. “Wish me luck, Cam.”
“Wait.” She pushed away a black brick with white specs in it from the table next to her and smiled. Then she picked up a long object. “Here, take this.”
It was some kind of sword. She pulled it from the leather scabbard to reveal a shiny curved steel blade that got wider at the pointed tip The handle was made of pearl and there were four small rubies around the base of it near the hilt with four large diamonds in between them. The hand guard looked like gold, and it wrapped around from the blade to lion’s head at the end of the handle.
“I’m not really a swordfighter, Cammy Jo.”
Cammy just snickered. “You can do anything you want to do, girl.” She sheathed the saber and tied the leather strap around my waist. There was a yellow sticky note on it that she removed. She read the description:
“Item #GO463. The Sword of Saladin, Crusades 1187. Used by Marie Lefebvre Delacroix to kill Gentry Olivant in battle, 1699. Yup, you’re going to need this.”
“Whatever.”
“Don’t forget to come right back and tell me where you are.”
I was still straddling the side of the chest. I put my other foot in, not sure what to expect. Immediately, the moment my other foot touched the bottom of the chest, I felt myself falling for several seconds. I gasped, but there was no air to take in, and I wasn’t sure if this wormhole, or whatever it was, would ever end. I thought about how frightened Arthur must have felt during his journey, but I held my nerves in place. This was so much more harrowing than the return trip through the door on the ship.
My trek finally stopped, and I expected to be in a pile of grain. I wasn’t. It was dark, and I seemed to be cramped inside of a small confined space. My chin was on my knees, and I couldn’t raise my head or push my feet forward. My heart began to beat faster, but I knew I couldn’t panic. I thrust my elbows out to my sides, and my right elbow hit a wall, but the other one pushed open a door. I was in an armoire in a bedroom. The light was dim, and through a round window I could see what appeared to be the eternal dusk I had become familiar with in the Sanctum of Shadows. I stood up and looked around the small, untidy rooms. There was clothing strewn on the bed and floor and a pair of leather boots I recognized. I was in Olivant’s stateroom.
This was not where I wanted to be.
If this was the way Pettigrew got here, then he must have taken the portal under the stairs to get to the replica ship by the ferry landing. It’s all so confusing. Where am I? When am I? Does time even exist in this place? I heard some barking outside the ship and looked through the porthole. It was Arthur, and he was fine, playing fetch with Percy next to the ship. Pacino and De Niro were seated back-to-back, and it appeared that Percy had them tied up like prisoners. The rest of the pirates didn’t seem to be around.
This was going to be easy. All I had to do was get Arthur and go back. I stepped back to the armoire and stuck my head back into the shelf I arrived on. I was going to tell Cammy Jo I’d be back in two minutes – but all of the walls around the shelf were solid. There was no way to get back to the treasure chest. I even climbed back inside again, remembering that I wasn’t transported until I put both feet inside the chest. Still nothing.
“What the…”
I don’t know why, but I checked my cell phone. I had bars! I held it outside the armoire and they disappeared, but the signal returned when I pulled it back in. I couldn’t get through, but radio waves could. I sent Cammy a text.
Can’t get back…On the old ship in SoS…Arthur okay…will text when I get back to Whispering Pines…Go now! Losing signal…
I could hear voices growing near on the other side of the ship now. Arthur should be safe with Percy on the port side for now, but the clamor in the campsite on the starboard side was growing into a low roar.
I stepped out and looked back into the open armoire, which was nearly empty. It obviously was not being used by the Captain for his clothing – in fact it looked like it had once been used by a woman. There were two dresses hanging in a narrow space on one end and ladies’ hats on the top shelf. I moved the peasant dress aside and looked at a black and red outfit hanging next to it. Immediately, an idea ran through my mind, and I decided to wear it.
The red skirt had a lot of material and a diagonal hem, and it hung in curtain-like ruffles from my mid-thigh on the left to mid-calf on the right. I tied the calico sash around my waist letting the extra length hang on the opposite side from my sword and sheath. The sheer red blouse with wide bell sleeves fit perfectly under the nicely tailored half-sleeved black blazer with a sort of corset-tied front. It seemed that it was made just for me.
I considered the high-arching Cap’n Crunch hat but opted instead for the red satin bandana. As I slid it off the shelf a black eye patch trimmed in sequins fell to the floor. On the inside of the eye flap it said Marie Lefebvre in beautifully scripted silver letters. I put it on. The bandana covered the entire top of my head, and I tied it with my brown tresses over the front of my shoulder.
I looked in the small smoky mirror, a little shocked at the determination I saw in my eyes. I looked good. I was ready. I pushed open the door of the stateroom and immediately heard the voices of a large group of men next to the ship. I marched straight for the point of the bow where I had seen Olivant two times before. The crowd of pirates was enormous now – perhaps two hundred or more surly men ready for a mission of looting, pillaging, and terror.
I looked at my phone: It was 20 minutes before high noon – the time that Olivant had promised his revenge would begin. The resurrection was complete, and the insurrection in the real world would soon begin. All they had to do was file through the portal and get off the replica ship in Whispering Pines. It made me tremble just to think about the havoc these men could cause there.
A few of the men began to notice me and pointed up toward where I stood. Now was the time. I drew the Sword Of Saladin from the scabbard and raised the blade high. It gleamed and glistened, even in the dull light.
“Avast, me hearties!” I hollered out in the throatiest tone I could muster without coughing.
Apparently, that means “stop everything,” because every head began to turn towards me. After five or ten seconds the chatter had ceased completely and there was complete silence.
Then one of the men hollered out, “It’s Ma’am’selle Marie Lefebvre! She’s come back from the dead! I can see her shadow coming right for us!”
Behind me I heard, “Pssst.” I turned and saw Percy holding Arthur. He gave me a thumbs-up and a wink. It was good to know that I had some moral support, and perhaps more than that if I should need it. But he seemed just a little too relaxed as he watched a small woman face a brigade of treacherous pirates. I turned back toward the horde.
“There’ll be no looting and carousing outside of the Sanctum today – or I’ll send ya all back to yer watery graves!”
There was laughter from below. “You might be a great swordsman, Marie Lefebvre, but you can’t take on all of us.” More laughter.
Oh, cool – I was a great swordsman…or woman. “Quiet, ya bilge rats!” I think that’s what I heard Mr. Morgan call his men. The hush returned to the crowd. “Or I’ll send yer scurvy hides to Hades right now – without yer heads!”
A few of them began to laugh again, but I put a stop to it. I put the sword between my teeth and jumped to grab the rope above my head – the one Olivant zip-lined down between the mast and the ground. I pumped it up and down a few times, using my weight to get a bounce from the tension in the rope. Then I sprang upward, using my powers to make it look like an athletic move. “Float up,” I said softly, “and stand on the rope.”
The next instant I was standing perfectly balanced on the zip line that led to the crowd below. “Slide now.” And I slid down the rope on my feet to the quiet crowd of men below.
“Who wants to be the first to test my abilities?” I asked taking hold of my sword again and flourishing it the way I used to twirl my baton in high school.
“The Captain will show you who’s the boss!” said one meek soul right in front. “He’s the best there is!”
“What about you?” I said, pointing my sword at him, “you little toad!”
Poof. He seemed to disappear before our eyes, Then we heard a croaking sound and looked down to see a large toad swiftly hopping away.
“She’s a witch!” Hollered another pirate.
“How dare you call me a witch, you steamin’ pile of horse manure!”
Oops. Yeah, he started to stink up the place pretty quickly, and the others backed off as I took a step forward, careful to step around the steaming pile. A dozen or two ran off into the woods.
I heard a whistle from the ship. I looked up to see Percy again. This time he pointed behind me to the rope ladder hanging from the side of the ship. There was a man climbing up, and I recognized his three-cornered hat. Olivant was trying to get away, probably to the safety of another realm. I didn’t expect him to be such a coward.
I jumped back up onto the rope and slid halfway up, then I turned to the men below. Some were already racing for the rope ladder as Olivant vaulted over the edge onto the deck. “Anyone of you who dares to lay hand or foot on this ship will burst into flames! Now be gone…all of ya!”
Three large arrogant men scoffed and grabbed the rope ladder. Even I was amazed at the large eruption of fire that immediately consumed them. Most of the rest of the gang wandered off, and some just stayed around to watch.
I slid the rest of the way to the top, and Percy pointed me down the stairs where Olivant had just fled. The big young man, still shirtless, looked like he was watching a ballgame or a movie. All he needed was a box of popcorn and a soft drink. I expected to find Olivant going for the door under the stairs that led to the replica ship. Instead, the trap door that Thaddeus had used was open, and I heard him fumbling around below.
I jumped onto the pile of grain beneath me just in time to see the Captain remove a piece of latticework and crawl through a small hatch, right beneath the porthole that Thaddeus had used. I dove in right behind him and came out underneath the porch of a house in what seemed like a brightly colored world with chirping birds, fresh air, green trees and sunshine. Coming from the shadowy land of eternal dusk to this beautiful, vibrant village reminded me of our conversation about Dorothy in Oz before we entered the Sanctum of Shadows for the first time…but there were no Munchkins to be seen.
•
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Chapter Seventeen
“Halt, you mangy coward!” I hollered to Olivant, who was ten steps ahead of me, stumbling as he ran. He fell to his knees, rose slowly back to his feet, and turned to face me. The pallor of his skin was being replaced with a healthy glow, and his muscles seemed to grow large and firm before my eyes.
The wide dusty street was lined with several houses and shops, as in old cowboy movies. But the people didn’t run and hide. They lined the street and watched.
“It’s the legend coming to life!” one boy shouted out.
“It was no legend,” said a tall man in an old black suit staring directly at me. “It was a prophecy.”
Olivant and I strode slowly to the middle of the street and faced each other at ten paces. He looked at his arms and body and took in a large gulp of the refreshing air.
“What year is it?” he asked a woman on the side of the street.
She looked fearful, and her small children hid behind the skirt of her long dress.
“What year, I said! And where are we?”
“Why…it’s 1689, of course. And…and we’re on the stony point across from the valley of pines.”
An arrogant sneer grew on Olivant’s younger, fresher face as he turned his head to face me.
“I’m still alive!” He looked at the short shadow at his feet as the sun neared its high-noon crest. The swarthy pirate drew his sword and slowly licked his lip while he glared at me through dark squinty eyes.
“Let’s dance, milady.”
He pointed his sword toward me and raised his left arm from his elbow behind him. It seemed he was trained in swordsmanship. I’d watched a little fencing in college, but had never tried it myself.
Parry and thrust was all that was going through my mind as I mirrored his posture and stance. I moved toward him with nimble footwork.
“En garde, Captain.”
I thrust my sword toward him weakly, not really wanting to injure him. The crafty pirate simply swirled his sword around and under mine and then expertly flicked his wrist upward. The Sword of Saladin went flying out of my hand and high into the air, to the amusement of the crowd.
Fortunately for me, Olivant took the opportunity to mug for the audience, laughing and slapping his knees. He thought he would be able to easily defeat me, and I saw money changing hands on the sidelines. I was a majorette and had no trouble catching the weapon when it descended. I had to use a bit of magic to pull it towards me, but I didn’t want to do anything that might get me burned at the stake.
The tall man that seemed to believe in the prophecy took all of the cash from his wallet and pointed to me.
“On the woman,” I heard him say.
“The odds are against you, 20 to 1,” the bookie told him, while Olivant danced a pompous jig for the townsfolk.
“Then you’d better collect enough to pay me,” the man replied confidently.
This has already happened, I thought. It happened in 1689. I’ve already won…just hold onto your sword and beat him. This tale has already been told.
I realized that meant that somebody here right now must have come back through a portal to tell the story. I looked around, but didn’t recognize anybody. Then I noticed two young men, maybe in their early 20s, staring at me intently…and not in the way men stare at a nightclub. They turned away when they saw me looking back. One of them was tall and muscular, and the other was shorter and rounder. But they both had sandy hair. They could be brothers. They reminded me of Pacino and De Niro, but they were only half their age. Then something else struck me. This could be the missing link that helps me put all the pieces together
“Break time is over, Gentry Olivant. It’s time for your day of reckoning,” I shouted out. The crowd quieted down, but there was scattered laughter and a mocking belly laugh from the pirate.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said to me. Then, turning to the crowd he added, “It seems my spurned lover wants her revenge.” He grew more serious and gritted his teeth as he continued, “It’s a shame that one as pretty as you will have to die so young. En Garde, mademoiselle.”
I needed every advantage I could get, and pulled the patch from my eye, casting it to the side. We clashed like swashbucklers on the silver screen, the ring of steel filling the air as we exchanged advances and retreats.
“Slicer her up!” one large woman shouted.
“Run her right through the belly like a swine!” suggested another.
“Off with his head, milady!”
That sounded more to my liking. The hilts of our swords met and the blades formed a “V” above our determined faces, now stationary and only inches apart. Sweat glistened from his face as he got a close look at me for the first time.
“You’re a crafty fighter and stronger than you look…but you aren’t my Marie.” Then it dawned on him. “You’re one of those weaselly wenches from Denmark.”
That seemed to raise his ire as he recalled the humiliation we had put him through. His face reddened with anger, and I knew I had to act fast. I reached down with my free hand and yanked the bone loose that was cinching the rag he used as a belt. I ripped the rag away too and
threw them aside as fear gripped his eyes. He reached quickly for his falling trousers, and I backed off as he shouted less than politically correct epithets at me regarding my gender and anatomy.
Now I was mad. “You’ll pay for those remarks,” I said.
Olivant took the sweatband from his brow and tied it between two belt loops on his pants to hold them up. “The little girl can’t fight like a man, it seems. Let’s see if you can beat a man with his clothes on fer once, ya little tramp.”
He lunged at me, and our swords met again.
“Cut his head off!” came another holler.
I knew this vulgar man could kill me as easily as he could look at me, but I really didn’t want to have to kill him. This time it was my turn to deftly swirl my sword around his and fling it high into the air.
“Kill him!”
“Cut off his head!”
Time seemed to move in slow motion as Olivant’s sword floated upward, and I knew this might be the only chance I would have to save my own life. The sword started its descent.
“Not his head – cut off his hand!” It was the tall man in black who had bet on me.
As Olivant reached for his falling sword I swung my weapon back over my head and, grabbing the handle with both hands, I wielded it swiftly forward, taking the blade downward and right through his extended wrist. Both of my feet came off the ground with my final slash, his hand only inches from the sword that would surely have gone through my neck or torso. The crowd gasped as his hand fell to the dusty street, his sword following, right on top of it.
His glassy eyes looked at me, stunned, waiting for me to run him through with my bloody blade. He was resigned and ready to meet his death.
The voice of a small child meekly cut through the silence. “Kill him, Miss.”
I held the palm of my hand outward to silence any further comments and sheathed my sword. It had done its job.
Olivant was still standing, now with the help of a man on each side of him. One was rather large and dirty and the other was bespectacled and well-dressed.
Jessie Delacroix and the Sanctum of Shadows (Whispering Pines Mystery Series Book 2) Page 13
