The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure)

by Singel, N. M.

  “For what?”

  The old man looked at her. “For your place in history, Miss Wyatt.”

  Erica suddenly remembered where she had seen that strange bird-lion thing carved in the watch--in her mother’s closet. Several years before, she had been rummaging through dresses and hats, trying on stuff, when she found a shiny box with the same weird bird-lion etched on the lid. She had opened the box and found a handwritten paper tucked inside. She was too little to understand most of the words, but she remembered the last sentence: Hide the children--Love, Michael. Erica had stuffed the box back in the closet and never told anyone what she had found that day.

  Now a cold feeling moved through her. The room rumbled, shaking the overhead lights. The man who claimed to be Uncle Leopold pressed the watch into her hand. “He found us!”

  “Another Wyatt for my collection,” said a deep voice from behind her.

  Goose bumps crawled up her arm. She turned. The monster from the movie stared at her. Her mouth froze open. Her breathing stopped.

  “This is too easy,” the giant said. “The great chronicle disappears with a thirteen-year-old boy, and now his eleven-year-old sister and a decrepit old traitor are left to save him. Pathetic. I was hoping for a better fight. But the end will be the same.”

  “Don’t let go of the watch,” the old man whispered.

  “As if that matters.” The creature laughed. “I’m annoyed by these constant interruptions.” He extended his thick fingers toward Erica’s hand. “I’ll take that. A good tempus should never go to waste.”

  Erica loosened her grip. The watch was gone.

  Looking at the floor, the old man shook his head. “No hope, no hope, none at all.”

  “So true.” The giant reached into his jacket. “Let’s get this over with.”

  CHAPTER 10

  A SECRET TREASURE

  Banging rattled Columbus’s cabin door.

  “Admiral! Admiral! Open up! Please! It’s Diego!”

  Blake grabbed the chronicle, his only connection with real life, and wedged himself under the table. Could that giant flamethrower have followed him?

  Columbus cracked his door. “What now?”

  “My apologies, sir. Rat’s swinging his knife, knocking over barrels, and kicking at nothing. He says dogs are attacking him.”

  Columbus said something to Diego, stepped out of the cabin, and closed the door behind him. Blake hesitated, then crawled out.

  He placed the chronicle on the table. Turning to the page about Columbus, he read and reread the passage: A secret evil walks her decks . . . and destiny almost dies. He couldn’t make sense of it. And where were the Parabulls?

  The door squeaked open. He snapped closed the book.

  Columbus slipped back into his cabin and shut the door. He slid out a grungy trunk from under his bed and ratcheted the lid open. He sifted through neatly folded clothes and tossed a wrinkled shirt and what looked like scratchy black football pants onto the bed. “You may find these garments not to your standards, but you must look as though you belong on this ship. We have much work to do.”

  “What do you mean ‘work’? I can’t stay here, dude.” Blake ignored the pile of clothes as he backed away. He didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to have to fit in. “Hey, uh, Mr. Columbus, I understand what you’re trying to do here, but this whole discovering America thing? Yeah, well, that’s all you. I had nothing to do with that.”

  Columbus briefly rubbed his chin. He collected the clothes and returned them to the trunk before shoving it back under the bed. He pulled out a small metal chest with a lock dangling from the latch. “A man succeeds because of the help of many, Blake.”

  “So what am I supposed to do? I’m just a kid.”

  “What should any of us do except that which drives us forward.” Columbus placed the chest on the bed. “Inside is a treasure more valuable than all the queen’s jewels. Few have been privileged to see it.”

  Blake moved closer. “What is it?”

  Columbus pulled a chain with a key attached over his head. He unlocked the chest and then lifted the cover. A small, worn leather book and some old-looking paper, rolled up and tied with string, filled the space inside. “I cannot let this map fall into the wrong hands. I have protected it for many years.” He untied the knot and spread the paper across the table.

  “It looks like a little kid drew this,” Blake said.

  “Quite the contrary. Queen Isabella so believed in my enterprise after seeing this map, she sold some of her jewels to raise money for our expedition.”

  “Cool. You mean this map shows where the treasure is?”

  “Sit down, Blake.” He offered a rickety wooden chair.

  Blake shook his head. “Look, Mr. Columbus, I know this exploration stuff is very important--believe me, you have no idea how important. But just this morning I was like every other kid, and then--” He glanced out the window. “Something really weird happened, and then I’m here with you--Christopher Columbus. I mean, you’re supposed to be dead.”

  Columbus’s eyebrows shot up. “Dead? So you, too, have come to make sure I end up as food for the fishes?”

  “No, no, sir!” Blake paced a few steps. “It’s just that you’re a famous guy where I come from. I mean, discovering America was huge. You got lots of stuff named after you, books and statues--oh, yeah, we even get a day off school because of you. Besides that, a lot of people are depending on this whole trip of yours.” Blake looked back at the ocean. “Geez, how am I going to get home?”

  “America? Is that a place?”

  “It’s where I live, dude. You discovered it! Well, the Indians were already there, but . . . how do I explain this?” He raised the chronicle higher. “You ended up in this book, okay?”

  “I’m in that book?”

  “Yeah, dude! It’s like you’re completely clueless about what you’re supposed to do here, and I don’t want to have to be the one to tell you. Someone way more important than me should be layin’ this stuff on you.” Blake looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I know you kinda don’t understand what’s going on here, either, but--”

  Something big smashed against the door outside the cabin. Columbus slowly opened the door and then hurried out.

  Blake peeked at the deck below. Pieces of a barrel lay scattered on the quarterdeck. A large man with long, dark hair and a red knit cap pushed a guy he called Rat against the ship’s rail. Three other sailors tried to attach metal cuffs to his ankles. Columbus grabbed a pile of thin rope and tossed it to a big guy with curly black hair, and he tied Rat’s hands.

  Blake crept farther out the door and spotted the Parabulls gathered near the ship’s main mast. Glistening brightly against the haggard wood of the Santa Maria, they looked at him, then vanished.

  “Wait! Wait! You can’t leave me here!” He started down the steps but stopped when a man shouted, “Demon!”

  Blake felt all the sailors looking at him. He turned and crept back into the cabin.

  Columbus followed, closing and locking the door behind him. “I beg of you, change your clothes. After my men tend to Rat, they will demand answers.”

  Blake glanced toward the trunk but again disregarded the commander’s request. “What’s going to happen to that guy?”

  “Chains and a beating.”

  Blake looked at the door. Shouts amplified on the other side. “Hey, uh, that’s getting pretty loud. Do you need to get back out there?”

  “My men are capable of handling these problems.” The explorer returned to the map and wiped ocean spray from a coiled edge. “Blake, why do we even attempt that which is difficult?”

  “Don’t ask me, man. I always look for whatever's easiest.”

  “Well, then, we do indeed have something in common. I look for the easiest solution as well.”

  “You?”

  “Yes. It’s right in front of you.”

  “This scribble?”

  Columbus chuckled for the first time
. “Well, let me tell you how I came into possession of this scribble, and then you might understand. When I was a boy in Genoa, I would stare at the ocean for hours. I wondered what was beyond all that water. My father would sometimes find me hiding on ships in the port, some ships from as far away as Ireland and Africa. I envied the sailors. These men were of every color and religion. They told amazing stories.”

  Columbus paused. “So I left Genoa when I was twenty-two, and the sea became my home.”

  “You didn’t have to go to school for this?”

  “I have no formal schooling. I taught myself to read and write and how to sail by the stars.”

  “Weren’t you afraid to leave? I mean, didn’t people think the world was flat? Like you might fall of the edge or something?”

  Columbus chuckled again. “That idea faded into folklore long ago, though some still cling to such ideas. I don’t believe I could have convinced any of these men to follow me over the edge of the world.”

  “I guess not.”

  Columbus studied the map and ran his finger along a dotted line. “If I am correct, then the best route to the Orient, and wealth beyond compare, is to follow the setting sun.”

  “Weren’t you trying to discover America?”

  Columbus casually leaned against the table. “Once again, you talk of this America.”

  “The United States of America? It’s--oh, never mind.”

  Columbus raised his brow. “You are familiar with lands that I’ve not yet encountered.” The noise outside grew louder, and something hit the door again. “But for right now, I’m more concerned about what’s happening to my men.”

  Columbus rolled up the map and returned it to the metal chest. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  Someone pounded on the door. “Admiral! Rat has escaped! No one can find him!”

  Columbus unlocked and opened the door. “What do you mean no one can find him? It’s a ship, for God’s sake.” He left the cabin, closing the door behind him.

  Blake picked up the chronicle from the table. What was going on out there? He opened the door and peeked out. The ship’s crew was looking in barrels and under heaps of fabric. Some went down a hatch, and some scanned the water, probably looking for a body.

  “Fools.” A gruff voice from behind surprised him.

  Blake turned. The man called Rat leaned against the table.

  “What do ya know?” Rat slid a knife from his belt. “It is a Wyatt.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THE UGLY SIDE

  “Are you all right, my dear?”

  “Who said that?” Erica asked, snapping around in the dark.

  “It’s Uncle Leopold. I’m in front of you now.”

  “What happened? I felt like I was sucked into a giant vacuum cleaner.”

  “We were ingested by dark space, I’m afraid--typical of Dagonblud’s captures. I believe we’re in a dungeon. Yes. Actually, we’re quite lucky he didn’t freeze us first. It’s quite unpleasant, I’m told.”

  Erica shivered. “The giant has a name?”

  “A name and power far worse than you can imagine.”

  “I’m really cold! I think he’s freezing us now.” Her thin cotton blouse was no match for the temperature.

  “Reach down. You’ll find stones at your feet. Pick one up. The glow will light our way.”

  Erica gingerly picked up a rock that felt like it was covered in slime. She dropped it. “Ewww! What is that?”

  “Residue from the membrane.”

  “What membrane? It’s totally gross!” Erica wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “The membrane is all around us. You touch it every day.”

  “I do not!”

  “Of course you do. It connects time with space--all eleven dimensions, in fact. We merely live on its thin surface. Albert Einstein studied it his entire life. Don’t worry, the residue won’t harm you.”

  “But it’s disgusting! You pick it up.”

  “Unfortunately the light won’t work for me.”

  “Why not?”

  After a heavy sigh, Leopold answered. “Because I had to become one of them. Now grab a stone so we can get some light in here.”

  “One of who?” She picked up a rock with her thumb and forefinger. Tiny beams of light jetted out from where she touched the stone. She cupped it in her hands, and bright rays blasted from between her fingers. “Wow! That’s awesome!”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Uncle Leopold's wrinkled face came partially into focus. “That’s the Rellium, my little niece. Goodness, the resemblance to your father is striking.”

  “My mom told me that, too.” She smiled.

  “Your mother . . . how I miss her cooking.”

  “You know my mom?”

  “Of course. Now tell me what beautiful name has your mother given you.”

  “Erica, but my friends call me Ricki.”

  “Ricki. How very quaint. I prefer to address you as Erica.”

  “Okay,” she said softly, half listening to her uncle’s comments as she marveled at the lighted stone. “This is so weird.”

  “I do wish I still had the power to do that.”

  “What happened to your power?”

  “Sometimes we do things that we don’t want to do for the good of everyone else. Raise your light a bit.” Leopold stepped on a boulder and pressed against the rock walls. “It’s here somewhere. I know it is.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Your father hid something in here.”

  “My father was here?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a Wyatt.” Uncle Leopold stepped down from the boulder and then brushed off his hands. “I hope the Tolucan didn’t find it.”

  “Tool-can?”

  “It’s pronounced Too-la-con, Erica. Unfortunately, they are my new family. I am the enemy now. All for the good of the Rellium, of course.” He ran his bony fingers over the cold, damp walls. “Move your light closer, please. My old eyes fail me in the darkness.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  “A tempus, a Tolucan timepiece--like the one Dagonblud took from you. They use it to move through time.”

  She rubbed her thumb over the lighted stone. “What can he do to us?”

  “Mustn’t think about that right now.” Uncle Leopold continued to move his hands up and down the walls. Then he suddenly stopped. “Yes, yes, yes, this is it!” He pointed. “Look there.”

  Erica knelt to find a large hole beneath a rock protruding from the wall. She crawled inside, to a little cave. “Eek!” She dropped the stone when a large bone appeared in the light. The room went dark.

  “Please, my dear, I can’t see.”

  She picked up another stone, instantly lighting the area.

  Uncle Leopold joined her inside. He inspected the bone and tossed it away. “Not a Wyatt.”

  She wiped tears off her cheeks. “So, did my dad . . . die in here?”

  “He was kept in this hollowed-out grave for weeks without food and was rarely given water. We’re in the dungeon, Erica--Tolucan justice. I had hoped never to see the inside of this place. The membrane of our planet was ripped to shreds in here.”

  Sobbing, she said, “But we didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Goodness gracious, that makes no difference to the Tolucan.” Uncle Leopold continued to press on the walls.

  “They can’t just leave us in here.” She lowered her head and whimpered, “We’ll die.”

  “Crying is of no use to us now.”

  Grinding rumbled in the distance.

  She snapped around. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know.” He walked slowly in the direction of the sound. “Follow me.”

  “Like, now?”

  “Best to find out before it gets any closer.”

  Hesitantly, Erica trailed her uncle. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Nonsense. Fear teaches us how to be brave.”
The grinding intensified as Leopold moved out of the light. “It’s coming from over there.”

  “Don’t go too far.”

  No answer.

  “Uncle Leopold?”

  She stepped slowly in the direction of the sound. “Uncle Leopold, please say something!”

  The grinding ceased.

  Erica’s heart pounded, and her breathing quickened. She retreated slowly. The cave walls moved closer. Moans surrounded her.

  “Someone help! Please someone help me!” She sobbed. Closing her eyes, she crumpled to the ground.

  “Sign your confession!” a deep voice boomed.

  She opened her eyes. A balding man in a brown cloak stared down at her.

  She scrambled backward and then jumped to her feet.

  “I said sign your confession!” He lurched forward and grabbed her.

  She screamed and fought to escape. “Help!”

  He threw her into a room. Gray stone blocks were stacked as high as she could see. Torches hanging from metal baskets lit the faces of horrified people bound to bolted wooden contraptions. A caged man who bled from the corners of his mouth shrieked with pain. She jerked away and tripped into the robed man.

  “Sign the papers now!” He forced a sharp-tipped feather quill into her hand.

  The grinding continued. She dropped the feather and turned toward the sound. She locked eyes with Uncle Leopold, who hid behind one of the huge wooden machines. “Unc--”

  He held his finger to his lips to signal quiet.

  She looked at the man strapped to the machine. His jaw hung open, and his vacant eyes stared as though he was dead. A large wheel ground gears and pulled his hands and feet in different directions. He shrieked again.

  The robed man yanked her by the hair and clutched her throat. “Admit you’re a witch!”

  Something roared above her. She looked up. A creature with the head of a lion and the body of a bird flew toward her. The creature clawed the robed man’s face with its talons.

  “Run, Erica!” the creature cried out. “Go to the tunnel that glows like a sapphire. Run!”

  “But Uncle--”

  “Go!”

  She sprinted through the cave but dropped the rock. Darkness masked the horror behind her. She fell to her knees and frantically searched for another rock. Then she heard her mother’s voice.