The Kingdom Page 30

  “No!” The scientist’s face paled, and he began to wave his hands. “Your Eminence, what have I done—”

  “Someone else then?” the High Priestess asked sweetly.

  “Yes! Please! Someone else!”

  “Hand me the canister.”

  The terrified scientist obliged. After examining the smooth cylinder, the priestess removed the gasket. “What would happen if this seal were missing?”

  “My lady, the can would become unstable.”

  “And what if you also doubled the normal pressure inside?”

  “Then it would explode on the first person who handled it!”

  The High Priestess waited while the old man stared back at her. Suddenly she lunged at him and grabbed his coat, drawing him near. Her other hand snatched the dead rabbit by the ears.

  “Do it,” she snarled, dangling the carcass in the scientist’s face, “or this will be your fate!”

  “Vanita! Over here!”

  Teo watched Ana wave to her aristocratic friend on the deck of the Midnight Glider. Before the ship was fully moored to the quay, Ana bounded up the gangplank. Teo followed. The two women embraced like long-lost sisters.

  “Anastasia, it’s so good to see you safe!” Vanita exclaimed. “I haven’t talked to you since you got into that water barrel.”

  “Oh, let’s not bring up that horrible memory.”

  “Can I at least ask how your burn is? That was so awful! I still have nightmares about it.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m all healed now, but no backless gowns for me anymore.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you’ve already snagged your man,” Vanita said with a playful smile. She paused for a moment, then grew more serious as she clasped Ana on the shoulder. “You were . . . you were great up there on the mountain.”

  “So were you, Vanita.”

  “Tch! You think I was gonna bow down to a one-eyed giant with an oversized ego?” The two women burst into a fit of laughter.

  Finally Vanita turned toward Teo. “Thanks for watching out for my friend,” she said.

  “And thank you for making sure Marco returned to pick us up. We have a lot to talk about. Where is that rogue anyway?”

  “He’s in his stateroom. He said we all need to meet. There are some things we need to tell you as well.”

  “Come on then. Let’s go find him.”

  Teo and the two women dodged busy sailors and piles of ropes as they crossed the deck toward the stern. The Glider had arrived in Tara Mena at noon, a few hours after the Iron Shield departed. Teo wanted to leave as soon as possible to intercept the shipment of brimstone. He felt certain Marco’s fast clipper could overtake the black caravel. Yet he knew Marco would need to resupply his ship before heading out in pursuit—if indeed he could be persuaded to do so.

  The dashing pirate captain rose from a chair as Teo and the women arrived at the stateroom. Brother Thomas was there too, along with Teo’s old friend Sol. Their presence told Teo things had gotten interesting in Roma.

  After greetings were exchanged, everyone gathered around a small table. Sol set out a platter of cured ham, dried fruit, and soft cheese, then distributed mugs of ale.

  “We have a lot to be grateful for—each one of us,” Teo said as the friends took their seats. He motioned toward Brother Thomas. “Would you offer a prayer of thanksgiving?”

  After the stout monk prayed, the food was shared around the table. The conversation grew animated as the friends caught up on all that had happened since they had last seen each other. Nevertheless a serious mood permeated the cabin. Everyone understood that weighty matters were at stake.

  “Good news, Teofil,” Sol said. “The Papa has issued a bull commanding the Knights of Marsay to defend Jineve.”

  “Even that rascal Odo won’t be able to dodge a direct order from the Papa,” Brother Thomas added.

  “Excellent. We can’t let Jineve fall to an invasion from the High Priestess. She’ll become too powerful.”

  “Didn’t you say she intends to give all the Jinevan women as slaves to those horrible outsiders?” Ana winced and shuddered. “We have to prevent that.” Teo knew her loathing was born from her own terrifying experience at the hands of the forest barbarians.

  “For my part, I’m afraid I have bad news,” he announced when there was a lull in the conversation. “Anastasia and I saw the Iron Shield here in Tara Mena. He left this morning with a shipment of brimstone that the High Priestess could make into explosive powder.”

  Marco wagged his head at the implications. “I can’t even begin to imagine how much destruction she could wreak with an entire shipload of that stuff.” He frowned, catching Teo’s eye. “But stopping him isn’t going to be as easy as you might think.”

  “We can take him, Marco. I’ll put your pirates up against those shamans any day. We’ll scuttle that black ship of his and send the Iron Shield to the bottom of the sea with all his evil cargo.”

  Marco shook his head. “Wait until you hear what we saw in the Strait of Mezzine.”

  “Clansmen!” Sol interjected. “A whole flotilla of ships, bristling with fighters and rigged for speed. The black caravel met up with them, and they all set off on a northwestward course.”

  Teo’s heart sank. “That can only be an assault force. The Iron Shield must be planning to use the Clan as part of the priestess’s invasion strategy.”

  “Is Jineve strong enough to resist?”

  “I doubt it. The Chiveisian army is in league with the outsiders. They’ll close in from the east while the Clansmen and Exterminati advance from the south. Jineve will be caught between two armies, and they’ll be facing the High Priestess’s new weapon. It doesn’t look good.”

  “The nations are rising,” Ana said. “The High Priestess’s move against Jineve is only the beginning.”

  Sol nodded. “Anastasia is right. If Jineve falls, Marsay will be next. Then what? Likuria would be easy prey. Even Roma is vulnerable. The High Priestess would love to see the basilica of the Universal Communion going up in flames. The age of isolation is over. Astrebril is on the move.”

  Everyone sat quietly for a moment, numbed by the dire prediction. At last Teo reached into his pocket and laid his copy of the New Testament on the table. It was one of the inexpensive little versions being produced at Roma for mass distribution. “It’s time for a pact of our own,” he declared. “We can’t let this fate come about.”

  Ana rested her hand on the Sacred Writing. “I swear to stand against the schemes of the evil one,” she said. “I dedicate my life to the victory of Deus.”

  Teo covered Ana’s hand with his. “I swear it too. My sword will fight on behalf of the God of heaven.”

  One by one the friends around the table reached out and affirmed the sacred vow. Only Marco remained uncommitted, until finally he placed his hand upon those of the others. “I don’t yet have faith like all of you,” he said, “but I freely join your good cause.”

  “Then it’s decided,” Teo said. “We will journey to Marsay—and to wherever else the Lord God might take us.”

  A week slipped by on the open ocean, a week during which Marco’s normally fearless pirates were nervous and edgy. They weren’t used to sailing through uncharted waters. Only their love for their captain made them do it—and even that almost wasn’t enough.

  The Midnight Glider caught sight of the Clan flotilla on the first day out of Tara Mena. Marco kept the enemy sails on the far northwestern horizon, hanging back like a lone wolf shadowing a herd of deer. Sometimes one of the warships would slow down to investigate the pursuer, but Marco would respond by ordering a halt until the ship resumed its place in the fleet. For six days this game of cat and mouse continued. On the seventh, land was sighted: the coastline of Marsay.

  Marco stood next to his helmsman at the wheel, assessing the movements of the enemy ships through a spyglass. A low gray sky was spitting rain.

  “How many can you see out there?” Teo asked his friend. />
  “I’d estimate twenty ships. If they’re all packed with fighters, that would have to represent the bulk of the Clan’s manpower. They’re really putting everything into this endeavor.”

  “The Clan is very superstitious. After the disaster on Fire Mountain, I’m sure they’re willing to do whatever the Iron Shield orders. They’re desperate to appease their gods.”

  “Ships coming about, sir!” the helmsman barked.

  Marco’s head snapped around. “Where?”

  The helmsman pointed, and Marco ran to the rail with his spyglass. Teo could see the maneuver even with the naked eye. The enemy ships had divided to the right and left, and now two had peeled off to attack the Glider. They approached across the choppy sea with ominous intent.

  “All hands to battle stations!” Marco shouted. “Prepare to engage!”

  A thunderclap boomed in the distance, accompanied by a flash of lightning. Marco’s sailors scurried around the deck while Brother Thomas and eight friar knights strapped on their weapons. Evasion was the primary goal, but everyone knew that might not be possible.

  “Teo, there you are!”

  He turned to see Ana arrive, carrying a bow and wearing a quiver of arrows on her hip. She was a fine archer—in fact, Teo owed his life to her skill—but he didn’t like the idea of Ana being on deck when the fighting began. He started to say so, but she put her hand on his arm and gave him a firm look.

  “We’ve come this far, Captain,” she said, “and I should stand at your side now.”

  Teo relented, recognizing the truth of her claim. “Alright, Ana. Then may Deu protect us both.”

  The seas grew rougher as the enemy ships neared. Both were large and intimidating. Since they approached from either side of the Glider, Marco couldn’t turn and run. Instead he barreled straight ahead in a desperate attempt to get clear of the attackers before they hemmed him in.

  “Faster!” Teo yelled to no one in particular. He knew the sailors were doing everything they could to evade the enemy’s pincer move. The Glider’s raked prow rose and fell as it clipped through the waves, but the two attacking ships kept closing in. Everyone was racing to a single point: the juncture of a Y. Whichever ship reached it first would be the victor.

  A fierce rain started to fall, blowing in sheets from the leaden skies. Teo looked back through the downpour to see Marco at the helm, holding his course with intense concentration as he tried to thread the needle between the two ships.

  The wind howled, and the rain stung Teo’s cheeks. Now the massive Clan warships loomed off the port and starboard bow. Ravenous warriors lined the enemy’s rails, their swords raised high. At any moment Teo expected to feel a violent concussion or hear the crunch of splintering wood as the ships slammed together. A grappling hook soared through the air and snagged the Glider’s bulwark. Teo drew his weapon with a wild yell, preparing himself for battle.

  “Hang on!” Ana screamed as the deadly impact neared. “They’re going to hit us!” The three ships were on a collision course and no one was backing down. The smashup was going to be tremendous.

  At that moment a great swell lifted the Midnight Glider like a toy in a child’s bathtub. Ana leaned far over the rail, her left arm extending her bow stave and her right hand drawing the string to her chin. The ship rose high above its attackers as it rode the crest of the wave. Ana loosed her arrow, sending the man holding the end of the grappling rope tumbling into the sea.

  As the breaker crashed down, the Glider hit the trough hard. Teo flailed wildly in an attempt to steady Ana but missed her as he toppled to the deck. Seawater cascaded over him, and he was dimly aware of a massive reverberation behind him.

  He scrambled up, wiping brine from his eyes, to see the two enemy ships in the Glider’s wake. Their wrecked prows were entangled in a colossal head-on collision. Ahead of the Glider lay only the open sea.

  “We made it!” Teo exclaimed. He turned toward Ana with an exuberant cheer.

  But she was gone.

  Vanita Labella sat in Marco’s stateroom below deck, keeping company with the old teacher named Sol. Vanita was neither a fighter nor a sailor, so she knew the best thing she could do was to stay out of the way. For an hour she and Sol had endured the vessel’s constant pitching and heaving while the storm raged. The near miss with the Clan ships had sent them both to their knees in grateful prayer. Now the Glider was speeding toward the port of Marsay. Nothing could be seen in the terrible maelstrom outside, until Vanita noticed a bright beam piercing the evening darkness.

  “Sol, look at this!”

  Vanita pointed out the window at the welcoming beacon. The old teacher who had taught her to read and write now came to her side as a friend, smiling as he recognized the lighthouse that marked Marsay’s harbor.

  “Praise Deus, we’re almost to safety, child! This storm would have broken us to bits if we had stayed out any longer!”

  Vanita decided she could now risk a foray above deck. “I’m going to find Marco,” she declared, exiting the cabin despite Sol’s protests.

  Arriving topside, Vanita realized the storm was even more fierce than she had imagined. The merciless rain drenched her immediately, plastering her hair to her forehead and dribbling down her face. A roaring wind whipped at her cloak even though it was buttoned up tight. Vanita fought her way to the stern where the ship’s great wheel was located. Marco saw her approach, though he couldn’t leave his position at the helm.

  “Get below!” he shouted. “We’re not out of this yet!”

  Before Vanita could answer, something whooshed through the air and sent up a gigantic plume in front of the ship.

  “What was that?” Vanita cried.

  “The knights at the castle have us in range of their catapults. They don’t know who we are, so they’re bombarding everyone!”

  Vanita turned around and gazed from the stern of the ship. Marco’s incredible sailing had put the nimble Midnight Glider in reach of Marsay’s harbor ahead of the Clan’s cumbersome troop transports. Yet the enemy was close behind.

  “Will there be a battle?” Vanita asked as she reached Marco’s side.

  “Hard to say. At this point everyone’s just heading for the harbor to survive. Anyone who doesn’t make it in soon is going to see the ocean floor up close.”

  The ship pitched suddenly, and Vanita started to fall until Marco reached out and caught her in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “You’re okay with me, Vanita Labella,” the pirate captain said, smiling at her through his dark goatee. He kissed her lightly on the lips before setting her back on her feet. It was the first time he had ever done anything like that. Vanita struggled to catch her breath as Marco turned back to the wheel.

  The rain continued to fall, and lightning rent the sky, but the lighthouse beacon was close now. Vanita could see that if the ship could round the jetty and dart through the harbor’s narrow entrance, the winds would die down and the crew would be safe. She looked again at all the Clan ships converging on the harbor—and that was when a terrible yet wondrous idea popped into her mind.

  No . . . I can’t ask that . . .

  But I have to! It would mean everything! Everything!

  She turned to Marco, gripping the sleeve of his oilskin coat. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he held the great wheel.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Vanita steeled her resolve, though her voice felt shaky. “The Clan ships are all headed this way, you said?”

  “Every one of them. They’re doomed if they don’t make it into port.”

  “Marco, look at me.”

  Surprised, he turned to face her.

  “You are not a rogue. You are not a scoundrel. I’ve known it since the day I met you.” Tears welled up in Vanita’s eyes, mingling with the rainwater that dripped from her lashes. “I know exactly who you are! I can see it! You are a good man. You are a hero.”

  The pirate captain looked at her with an expression she couldn’t read.
“Vanita . . . why did you say that?” he asked in a voice barely audible over the howling wind.

  “Because I want you to do something. Right here. Right now. I want you to do something that will change the course of history. Something that will deal a mighty blow to the powers of evil.”

  Marco stared at Vanita’s face, searching for answers. Desperate now, she grasped his coat in both hands.

  “Drop the anchors at the mouth of the harbor,” she said. “Lower the boats for the crew to escape, and leave the ship behind.”

  “What? I can’t do that! The Glider would be smashed into a million pieces! I would lose everything I have!”

  Vanita lifted her hands and cradled Marco’s cheeks, pleading for understanding. “I know!” she cried. “I know! But Marco . . . my love . . . think of what else it would do!”

  Marco’s eyes widened as Vanita’s intent dawned on him. He clasped his forehead and leaned back, overwhelmed by what he was being asked to do. At last he looked up and met Vanita’s gaze.

  “It would block the harbor’s entrance,” he said, “and utterly destroy the Clan.”

  Teo hit the water as close as possible to the flash of white he had glimpsed among the billowing waves. Instantly he was fighting for his life. The cold sea sucked his breath away, and its churning waters assaulted him from every direction. Yet Ana was out there somewhere. He had to find her.

  The white flash appeared again but was quickly engulfed by the turbulence. Ana had been wearing an ivory-colored gown since Sessalay, so Teo knew it must be her. Nothing else that color would be bobbing in the ocean. He called her name, but there was no reply. The ferocious wind and pounding rain stifled his pitiful shouts.

  Lightning slashed across the sky, and in its brilliant glare Teo finally caught a glimpse of Ana. Her head was barely above water as she flailed around, trying to snatch a breath. Distress was written on her face. Then everything went dark again.