by W. Peever
"I'll take first watch, Charlie," said Colin, carefully adjusting his previous tone of command to concede his servant status to the Chosen One. "I'm thinking two shifts per night, rotating."
"Sure—wake me in four hours." Charlie was satisfied with Colin's gesture.
At some point in the night Charlie was awakened by a large hand shaking him—Mick—and another smaller hand holding his mouth—Tillie. Colin and Bailey were peering out of the tent. Mick had staff in hand and the others looked ready for action. Charlie focused, and unsheathed Excalibur in the tight squeeze. He listened. The wind was making the trees sway in the canopy, but down on the ground the air was still. Then he heard it: crunch…crunch. The sound was close by, maybe ten yards away. Snap!— from the other direction, on the other side of the tent. Then whatever it was, or they were, stopped moving. The trees had blocked out the moon and starlight—none of them could see a thing. Not sure whether they were more fearful than cautious, all just waited. After a while another crunch was heard but, reassuringly, it was further away. Whatever had been circling the camp seemed to be leaving.
Recovering his breath—he had been holding it for so long—Charlie asked in a whisper the question they were all hoping was true. "Maybe a deer?"
Colin shrugged. "Maybe. Doubt it though. A deer could have made the first sounds over there, but it would have been sent bounding off in the opposite direction by that louder sound on the other side of the tent. No it was something else, maybe a wild pig, even a black bear. The kiosk said they were around."
"Or maybe," said Bailey, "you two are being wishful."
"Possible." Colin admitted. He thought it wise to play down the most terrifying possibility. "Check it out in the morning. Doesn't mean anything like the Vanari found us. You kids are new to the many creatures of our world. Since you came of age you might be lucky enough to see one or two in daylight: here in the woods, the Fairyfolk, the Witch Clans, creatures from other realms trying to live in peace away from humans. Dragons mostly in large mountain ranges."
"Mostly, you say?" asked Tillie, cringing.
"They're not man-eaters." Tillie raised an eyebrow. "Or even little girl eaters," Colin added. Tillie looked deflated. "Many of these creatures," Colin went on, "are intelligent. The sounds could have been scouts trying to see if we were a threat. For that matter, could be bears looking for grubs and berries. But to be safe," he said looking at Charlie, "stay inside the tent on watch. None of us should venture outside alone."
"I'll keep you company." Mick said, sidling up to his friend at the barely cracked opening of the tent, having to lie on his side with his feet almost reaching the other end. Charlie welcomed the company, but the gesture soon became just that as Mick began to snore. Charlie couldn't blame him. The time went by fast. Soon the first rays of the morning sun filtered through the trees. Charlie elbowed Mick whose eyes shot open. "Uh…oh…how long was I… resting?"
Charlie was unable to resist a taint of sarcasm. "Just the four hours."
Mick flushed. "Oops. Sorry."
"No worries, let's go make a fire and start breakfast."
Colin, who had just dozed off and on, listened to the two of them falling over themselves and each other as they unzipped the tent and loudly sucked up the fresh morning air of the forest. Mick stretched to full sound effects up and down the scale like an old barn door creaking, then began to collect fallen branches and break up some kindling. While Colin lay there wondering what evidence of the night visitor Mick was stomping all over with those huge feet, Charlie rummaged through the pack with food and was audibly surprised at the hot chocolate and package of freeze-dried eggs with maple bacon and sausage.
"What, no pancakes?" Charlie laughed.
"What? It should be in there somewhere." Mick sounded genuinely alarmed. "I thought about coffee too, then remembered how bad it was without milk and sugar."
"Ya." Charlie agreed, stuffing his hand deep in the pack fishing for matches. He lit the brown pine needles in the center of the woodpile. The dry sap flared and smoked, and then with a pop the small twigs caught fire.
"I forgot fresh pine smokes as much as it burns," said Charlie as he hung an aluminum kettle from a makeshift spit. "It'll do the trick though."
Colin dreaded to think whom Charlie was inadvertently messaging with his smoke signals wafting through the treetops. On the other hand, it might not be the worst thing in the world to draw their enemies out during broad daylight on terrain they weren't used to. Either way, all the younger kids were gaining survival experience and at the same time treating themselves with therapy— precious moments taking them out of their fears. The girls were stirring, Bailey first to pop her head out of the tent: "Bacon? Houston, we have bacon!"
"Sure. We have…almost-bacon." Charlie laughed and passed Bailey a cup of hot chocolate and a plate of yellow puffy looking eggs with bits of brown stuff in it. "Fresh farm eggs, country sausage and Canadian bacon, it says on the pack—if you can find them all in there." He laughed again, Bailey noticed, for the first time in a while.
"Funny," Bailey said, twitching her nose at the unappetizing mess. "But it smells good."
"It actually tastes good too," offered Mick through a mouth full of rehydrated egg mush. "I'm shocked," he said in a hoity-toity voice as Tillie emerged. "Genuinely shocked. Charlie has created a genuine masterpiece of haute cuisine from this beastly mess."
Tillie just yawned and pulled a face, wondering what the boy-giant was on about this time.
Bailey sniffed the mixture, took a bite and shrugged. "Hey, not bad…not that bad," she corrected herself for Tillie's benefit.
Tillie chose to sit on the same rock as Charlie, sending shivers up Charlie's back but making him just uncomfortable enough to move away just as Colin finally approached, a little the worse for wear having kept watch all night.
"We need to break camp soon as we're finished."
"What about those signs of what was around last night?" Bailey asked eagerly.
"Well, yeah…" Colin answered, lost for words. "Could be our breakfast is right on top of where the one sign was. No obvious tracks—The pine needles push down underfoot and then spring back. That's good for us— means we'd be very hard to follow. Anyway, we can look around to get our bearings."
"So you think whatever was out there wasn't looking for us?" asked Tillie.
"Well, not by name. Maybe just sniffing around for whatever it came across—happened to be us. Our human smell might have frightened him away. Then again, it could have been a family of chipmunks."
"Oh, so cute," Tillie cooed.
Colin gave a reflex something between a sneer and cringe, given their dire circumstances. He looked away. "So, Bailey, which way do we go?"
"The astrolabe still points north, so I think we should head toward the lake up there seeing as we used up all our water for breakfast," Bailey added, pointing in distain at her pink water bottle.
Colin nodded. "That should take us a good hour or so at brisk walking pace." He motioned towards the kilometers gauge on the astrolabe, now down to eleven. "We'll fill our canteens, and hopefully by then we'll be close."
They no sooner had their packs on than they were away, staying silent, deep in thought, most of the way; occasionally cracking jokes at each other's expense. On the uphill stretches they saved their breath for the extra effort. By the time they reached the shore and dipped their bottles in the cool water of the lake, they could hardly wait for the iodine tablets to work.
"It has to be around here," said Charlie gazing down at the astrolabe, starting to vibrate to the touch. Dowsing themselves straight from the lake—the sun was pretty high by now—and gulping their drinks, they were off again. The woods grew thinner, and soon they came to a massive clearing. All the trees for at least a square mile had been scorched by some type of fire or enormous source of heat. "Look!" Bailey pointed at a cluster of charred trunks close by. "Do you think it was lightning?"
"More likely some stupid kids with a c
ampfire that got out of hand," said Colin. He shrugged and went to touch one of the trees. "Must have been quite a blaze."
The astrolabe began to shudder vigorously in Charlie's hand, the arrow trembling in the center. "Come on, we're really close to…whatever it is." He started off again, slowly, his friends close at his side till at the top of a hillock the arrow went haywire, spinning round and round. "We're here."
"Where?" Mick's face defined the word ignorance. "We're in the middle of a burned-out forest, on top of a hill.
"It's not a hill, Mick—down here!" said Bailey, who had jumped off the mound. "It's the entrance to some kind of cave." Her muffled voice led the others to climb down the other side. "Look!" she said, pulling away some of the brush hiding the entryway.
"Well, it's a bloody good thing we have flashlights," said Mick, handing them out and saving the headlamp for himself.
"Here!" Tillie pointed at a brass circle stamped on a rock outside. "The USGS recognizes this as The Person Chamber CIRC 700 AD, USGS."
"United States Geological Survey. They're in charge of things made of rock, like mountains and stuff," replied Bailey.
"But why would they be interested in this cave— enough to give it its own name?" Tillie pondered out loud.
"And date it to 792 years before Columbus?" Mick added, anxious to show off his knowledge of history and mental arithmetic.
"Oh, wow!" exclaimed Charlie. "This is so cool. It's Vineland!" The others looked at him waiting for the punch line. "There's evidence the Vikings voyaged here from Scandinavia to Iceland to Greenland to North America— and kept a winter camp here in New England."
"Oh yeah, I heard about it," Bailey chimed in. "It got hushed up by scientists…"
Charlie finished her sentence. "Who wanted to preserve the site to study. They never released its location. This must be it!"
"Or it could be a Native American corn storage cave," said Bailey, careful about covering all the bases so they wouldn't all be let down later.
Charlie continued unperturbed by Bailey's interruption. "It's a chamber like it says on the sign. And seeing the Vikings shared their knowledge with the Templar, and we are on the Path of the Templar, ergo, this is a Viking chamber."
"The astrolabe seems to believe you," Colin affirmed, as the cooler-headed guide of the expedition. "If it's an Indian Mound, a Native American grotto, or Viking encampment, it's where the Templar hid the next clue. I suggest we head in and check it out. Before we do, everyone change clothes." He handed out the dirty-work duds—canvas pants, white undershirts, flannel over-shirts, yellow work boots—and before long all looked like a team of miners just arrived on their shift and ready to receive some serious dirtying-up. Not even a quip from Tillie about dressing down for the occasion.
"You'll do," Colin said a little proudly, looking from one to the other, before grabbing a pickaxe and heading into the mouth of the cave.
Chapter Twelve The Chamber
The opening of the chamber was deceptively small, its chiseled granite blocks having sunk deep into the soft ground. Charlie grasped at the moss-coated rock and lowered himself into the hole.
"You'd better suck it in when it's your turn, Mick." "You just watch yourself in there." Mick replied, handing Charlie a flashlight and bag of supplies. The interior lit up, sending shadows dancing around the jagged rock walls.
"It's just a tad spooky down here, guys." Charlie called up through the pale light of the opening.
Thud! The oversized form of Mick plopped down— rock, dirt and moss tumbling behind him.
"Everyone all right down there?" called Bailey.
"Hop on in! The dark spooky cave is just fine!" Mick realized the quip sounded better in his head as the words flew out. He kicked a rock hard and hit Charlie in the leg. "Ow!"
"Sorry."
"Well, I'm coming down. Catch me, okay, Mick?" Bailey called down, brightening Mick's mood somewhat. Bailey dropped into Mick's arms.
"You can put me down now, Gorilla Boy." Both laughed self-consciously.
"You're next, Tillie," called Bailey. "Don't worry, Mick is a pretty good catch."
Mick wasn't sure if he'd heard right. Soon all five were down, saddling themselves with backpacks, water bottles hanging from belts and flashlights pointing ahead.
"Seems straightforward," Colin said, getting his bearings. "I mean, the tunnel goes straight. But everyone keep a lookout for anything that doesn't belong…"
"Doesn't belong in a mysterious cave in a burned out state park that could have been dug by Vikings, most likely inhabited by monsters and hidden for centuries…got it!" Bailey smirked at Colin.
Colin continued, doing his best to rise above it. "It could be anything from a carved rune on the wall to something buried in the dirt. But as Bailey so elegantly stated the problem—Smarty Pants!—it might just bloody blend in with this ruin, so keep your eyes peeled."
The five descended into the depths of the monster cave, the very real nightmares that could await them in the dark places of the earth consuming their imaginations.
"Well, I haven't stepped in any Troll crap yet," Mick laughed. His words broke the long, strained silence like a sledgehammer on a thin pane of glass. The rest joined in his infectious laughter—that came back in an echo through the cave.
"Did you hear that?" Bailey held her finger up to her mouth, gesturing for quiet. "There, did you hear that?"
"Your echo?" asked Charlie, perplexed.
"An end to the cave." Colin nodded.
"Exactly!"
Colin pointed his flashlight far ahead. "Bailey's right! There's some kind of chamber up ahead." Charlie and Mick shrugged in unison, still not getting the point.
Colin sighed, not as heavily as before: he was getting used to having to explain almost everything that wasn't in movies to the boys. "I was worried the rune was gone, or we'd missed it. But now I think we're okay." He motioned around him. "This is just the entryway to, maybe, a huge chamber. The Templar would have hidden the rune in the chamber—no reason to leave it in this hallway! Anyway, not when the sacred circle is in the same underground cave!"
"Sacred circle?" Tillie questioned.
"If this was a Viking settlement the chamber at the end of this hallway will be a big circular room where they worshipped."
They walked a few more minutes before reaching a huge space. It was hard to tell exactly how large. Their flashlights could only light just ahead, but an echo of dripping water told of a massive hall.
"Okay." Colin was excited. "It's here somewhere. Let's find the rune. Same as before—Charlie and I walk the walls. You guys look on the ground, anything besides dirt and rock. If you find something just drop one of these light sticks by it and keep looking. We'll come back to the sticks later and figure out what they are." Colin handed out the same crack and light sticks Charlie and Bailey used on the Fourth of July.
The team fanned out and began the search. Soon each was far enough away from the others to see their lights but not hear their footfalls. After a little while longer a sharp cry resounded through the cavern. Charlie thought it might have come from somewhere toward the center, anyway well away from the walls.
"Who's hurt? Bailey?" Charlie called into the darkness. His words seemed to muffle as they left his lips, his voice dying away.
After a few anxious moments, another shout: "I have her!" It was Mick's voice penetrating the quilt of darkness. "Tillie! She's tripped over something."
"Hang on—I'm coming!" shouted Colin's voice. He and Charlie started off from their own compass points against the wall, finding their way with flashlights and trying to "feel" through their heavy workboots the uncertain terrain beneath their feet. They slowly approached what was now three spots of light close together. Before long, Mick was shining his light direct in their faces.
"It's a wooden box. See through this gap in the planks here, what was buried under this dirt and leaf debris. All that was showing was the corner tip of these planks on top —and she tripped
over it."
All looked at Tillie in amazement, her powers—even accidental ones—unfailing once again. Charlie's amazement was still tinged with much deeper feelings. Colin and Charlie took turns to bend down and peer into the well-dug hiding place, each expressing astonishment. The wood was very old—termites, mold and rodents had taken turns to rot and weaken the old planks that covered what looked to be a miniature coffin reduced to the size of an olden-day cigarbox. All now lunged as one upon the boards, tugging this way and that until the ancient box lay alone at the bottom of its shallow pit. Oak leaves blown in over the years had stained the white pine a dark tea color, and the brass hinges and lock had rusted and bubbled into almost unrecognizable chunks of bubbled metal. The ancient chest had remained hidden, oblivious to the centuries that passed it by. Now the five friends looked at each other with gravity, as if the salvation of the world lay literally an arm's length away.
"If Tillie hadn't broken her toe on the edge of that cover, we never would have found it!" cried Mick. "I mean, it was completely buried but for that invisible tip poking up."
"Well?" Charlie enquired of Colin, who was already drawing his dagger. "Any clue what's in it?"
"I think it's a key—not like any you've seen before. The Dwarves would never make an obvious key. Theirs are made to stay hidden from plain sight, to blend into the environment. I'm sure the Templar put it in this box to ensure that only the right people could find it."
"That's us." Bailey told herself out loud.
There was only one thing on Charlie's mind. He looked at Mick, and it appeared in the little light they had that Mick had raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question of Colin. Charlie beat him to it.
"Wicked! There are Dwarves?'" Mick exclaimed to a resounding chuckle.
"Okay," said Charlie, digesting this for the moment, and looking quizzically at the now reddening Mick. "What suddenly makes you think it's a key, Colin? I mean, you didn't let on anything about it before."
