Isle of Swords (46 page)

“What do you see?” whispered Jacques.

“Blood,” he replied. “And lots of it.” They looked on the stone floor and saw a wide splash of blood. Several spatters led up the tunnel.

“That is fresh blood,” whispered Stede. “Footprints on the sand.

Fresh blood. They still b' here.”

The trail of blood spatters was inconsistent for the next forty feet. There were other large puddles, even splashes on the walls in some places. But in other spots, no blood at all. Farther still, and they found side tunnels shooting off from the main. These were smaller, perhaps large enough for a man, if he crawled. The concentration of blood was heaviest around these smaller side tunnels, and the crew gave them a wide berth whenever they found one.

“What's that sound?” Cat asked. Everyone froze.

“I don't hear anything,” said Jules.

“Nor I,” said Ross. “Wait.” Then he heard it. A short, high-pitched whistle.

“Where's that coming from?” Cat asked. No one answered. They heard it again, many times more. Many at the same time. “It's all around. It's getting louder.”

“Daggers, men,” Ross ordered. “Give yourselves a little room.”

Metallic rings filled the tunnel, joining the strange whistling. All sixty men spread out. The men with lanterns held them high so all could see. The whistles grew even louder and more frenzied.

Suddenly, the tunnel filled with the sound of flapping, but there was nothing in the air near the roof of the tunnel. “Ah!” St. Pierre exclaimed. “Something just ran across my foot!”

“Ahhhh, get them off!” Caiman cried out. Cat ran toward the sound of his voice. He stepped on several things that squished. The lanterns were being swung about as the men stabbed their daggers into the darkness. In the swaying light, Cat saw things darting across the floor and leaping out of the holes on the wall. They were stark white and fast, whatever they were. “Ahh, they are eating me!”

Caiman was in agony. “Help! I didn't use the monkey—ahhhghh!

Where's that barrel?!”

Cat grabbed a lantern out of another man's hand and ran on. He found Caiman near the end of the line. White creatures the size of rats were all over him. Cat flashed his dagger and cut at the creatures.

Pieces of them fell away, but their heads remained somehow attached to Caiman's skin. “Midge!” Cat screamed. “Midge, where are you?”

“Ahhhh48” Caiman thrashed about. One after the other, he tore them from his body, but their teeth and jaws stayed clamped to his skin. Screams echoed from up ahead.

Cat continued to cut. “Midge!!”

“Right here!” Midge ran up, and Cat grabbed the barrel from him and began to pour it all over Caiman. The high-pitched whistles filled the tunnel, so loud that Cat could barely handle it without covering his ears. The white creatures fell off Caiman's body in clumps. They crawled away and soon were gone. But there were other screams wailing at the other end of the tunnel.

“Midge, help Caiman!” Cat yelled. “If there are others, I've got to get to them.”

Cat raced up the tunnel. He found one man covered in the white creatures. They were actually dragging the man into one of the smaller side tunnels. Cat splashed the fluid on him, and again the creatures screeched and fell away. But it was too late. Blood oozed from a hundred wounds, and he was not breathing.

“Die!!” someone screamed up ahead. Cat heard a pistol shot.

Then another. The clash of a sword on the stone wall. “Filthy little maggots, die!!”

That had to be Red Eye,
Cat thought. He had only a small amount of the monkey pee left in the bottom of the barrel. He hoped it would be enough. Cat found Red Eye slamming himself backward into the wall of the cave, mashing dozens of the creatures.

Cat splattered him with all the fluid that remained. As the creatures fell off, Red Eye began stomping them furiously. “Lousy little . . . take that! Yeahhhh, now you feel it! Arrrrr!”

“THIS WAYYY!” Captain Ross called from somewhere up ahead. Midge and Caiman sprinted past. Cat and Red Eye were right behind them. “THIIIIS WAYYY!!”

They emerged at last from the tunnel under the shade of wide tree boughs. All of them panted from the exertion; many of them were streaked in blood. Red Eye had cuts and wounds all over.

Caiman was worse. “We lost two men,” Ross said sadly.

“They should b' listening,” Stede said. “Mon make their own choices. This b' true.”

45
THE HOLY KEEP

T
horne and his men are still here,” said Ross. “I'm sure of it.”

“I hope yer right, Declan,” said Stede. With the forest now behind them, they marched warily up the steep incline. The volcano rumbled even more ominously than before. The ashen darkness overhead had thickened. Cat looked over his shoulder at the smoky crater and wondered. Their view was spectacular. If not for the fear cast over them all, each would have stopped to marvel. They saw the treetops of the forest and the pitted rock formation with its tunnels hidden within.

They could see the edge of the bay and, in the distance, the shards.

At last, Ross and his crew came within sight of the castle they had been seeking for so long. Made of black and gray stone, or just covered with a layer of ash, no one could tell. But the building maintained by the monks for so many long years looked solid and impregnable. It had three windowless turrets, the largest of which faced the hill that Ross and his crew were climbing. Behind this turret rose a high gabled roof over a magnificent square fortress.

Ross's mind churned. They had met no resistance, other than the creatures in the tunnel. If Thorne was still on the island, where was he? Each man's heart pounding in his chest, every sense on alert, they slowly drew near to the castle. They found a huge stone door ajar. Ross pushed the door open, and they gazed down a long corridor with small paintings on either side. The crew pressed in behind Ross, and they walked cautiously to the end of the hall where an engraving of the crucifixion of Christ gazed down on them.

Cat stared at the wounded Christ and found himself reaching for the silver cross in his coat pocket. Could they really be here, in this building? Cat wondered if the captain was thinking the same thing.

Ross had felt a strange gravity since he entered the holy keep. He had no reason now to doubt anything Padre Dominguez had told him. Still, he'd never really believed in God. He'd told his wife that on many occasions. Abigail had dragged him into church a few times, and he'd repeated after the vicar with the rest of the crowd.

But he hadn't believed any of it. The volcano rumbled outside. Ross looked away from the engraving. Still, he felt like Christ's eyes were following him.

Short passages led right and left of the engraving, and an odd glow came from doors at either end. It was a golden glow. Ross looked back at his men. He motioned for Jules to lead his group to the right. Ross went left. From both doors they entered a vast sanctuary lit by hundreds of candles and one large window. The men gasped as they entered, for the light was reflected in a million different directions and hues by gleaming gold, polished silver, and many-faceted jewels. It was not at all the sort of treasure the crew had pictured—massive, hedonistic piles of gold coins, with fallen silver statues, and jeweled trinkets hanging from chandeliers or tossed hither and thither.

No, what Ross and his men found was that the monks of the Brethren had organized the treasure into dozens of magnificent open stone vaults. There were vaults heaped with gold and others with silver. Many vaults were filled with jewels: red rubies, white and green diamonds. Some others contained all manner of weapons— gilt staffs, swords and daggers with jeweled hilts, and ornate shields of silver and gold. The immaculate orderliness of the monks made the Treasure of Constantine all the more impressive.

Ross and his men walked down two aisles between twenty rows of wooden pews. All had their eyes forward on the treasure, so they did not notice the numerous doors on either side of the sanctuary.

Stede ran his fingers over the green diamonds. Red Eye began sorting through the weapons. Jacques St. Pierre put down his barrel and lifted a pile of gold coins and finger bars up to his nose as if he could savor the smell of these riches.

Ross and Cat saw the altar at the same time and walked toward it. If they'd turned, they would have seen that everything in the sanctuary, the seats, the aisles, the vaults—even the candles—was angled to draw attention to the altar. Upon the altar were two items, a wooden chest and a large leather-bound book.

Stede turned and watched Captain Ross go to the wooden chest.

The others began to turn as well. Ross and Cat gazed at this chest.

It was more than large enough to hold the contents described by Padre Dominguez. There were carvings and designs engraved with gold and silver: a lion, a lamb, a tree, angels with flaming swords, and an intricate cross on the top. Declan Ross put his hands on the chest. He looked at Cat as if to ask, “Should I?”

Cat nodded. Captain Ross grasped both sides of the lid and began to lift. But the lid did not move. He tried harder, but it did not budge. The chest was locked, but look as he might, he could see no keyhole. And even had he found one, they had no key. Suddenly, Ross spun around, almost knocking a lit candle off its stand. Captain Declan Ross knew he had been beaten. He had led his men into this sanctuary. In a gilded trance, he had marched them up to dip their hands into the treasures. Then, ignoring all common sense, he went to the altar among the candles and let himself be captivated by the chest. He closed his eyes and drew his cutlass. Someone had to have lit all those candles.

“Men,” Ross said quietly, “I may have doomed us all. Raise your weapons! Stand your ground and prepare to fight for your lives!”

A deep, thunderous blast came from the volcano. Harsh orange light flashed in the lone window, and pistol shots rang out from above. Men appeared at the balcony of an upper story Ross and his men had not even noticed. The doors on both sides of the sanctuary opened, and enemy pirates streamed out like a torrent.

The crew of the
Bruce
dropped their baskets and their massive coils of rope. They let the riches from their hands fall back into the vaults. Every man took up arms and ran to meet the enemy. Jacques St. Pierre lit two grenades from candles and tossed them into the oncoming pirates. Jacques had crafted these weapons, making them as potent as the ones he'd used in Dominica. They exploded, sending heaps of men flying into the pews. But even as he spent grenade after grenade, the enemy kept coming in increasing numbers. Red Eye fired all seven of his pistols, felling seven of Thorne's men, but more rushed forth to challenge Red Eye's cutlass. Stede hacked through men with his machetes as if cutting grain during the harvest. Jules and Caiman knocked enemies to the ground with their bare fists. Ross and Cat defended the altar with cutlass and dagger, and for a time held off any challenge.