Across The Sea (17 page)

“Jarmin,” said the man with the
bushy beard. “Step back. Perhaps there is another way.”

Jarmin, the giant, stared off
at Bodin, who had stopped further down the street and was now
watching in their direction. “Let go of the lady,” he ordered
Bodin, in a low gravely voice, “or I will kill this man.”

Captain Leonard smirked and
snorted.

“Step away,” Bodin replied,
staring into the giant with a look of terminal foreboding. Francis
felt his stomach constrict. “And no injury shall befall you.”

Without warning, Jarmin swung
both his swords down on Ratwell. Ratwell stepped back and
intercepted both blades with his one sword.

Clang
!

Bodin turned back toward the
dock and marched off with the Dream Finder.

The strong man dropped one
sword, and caught the wrist of Ratwell’s sword-wielding hand.

Oh my
, Francis
thought.

Not another second passed
before Ratwell had already kicked up Jarmin’s discarded sword,
caught it in his right hand and used it to stop Jarmin’s next
swing.
Blang
!

The giant lifted Ratwell off
his feet. He flung Ratwell to the left, and then right, like
Ratwell was nothing more than a bothersome, wooden twig.

Captain Leonard and Elroy broke
up into laughter, sounding loud guffaws. They believed this scene
the epitome of hilarity.

The giant swung Ratwell down
and smashed him against the ground, still clutching his wrist. He
lifted him, and then smashed him again.

He’s trying to make Ratwell
drop the swords
, Francis thought.

Ratwell seemed to take all of
this in stride, almost as if he were trying to keep his friends
amused. He looked in Captain Leonard’s direction, grinning.

Francis had a sinking
feeling.

As he was lifted once more,
Ratwell twisted his entire body and stabbed one sword up – into
Jarmin’s arm. Jarmin yelled out in pain – “Ahhhh!” – as Ratwell
performed a backwards flip, both blades still in hand, and landed
onto his feet before the giant. He swept his right leg out,
striking it against one of Jarmin’s muscle-bound two. The giant
fell backwards, swinging his sword out, but Ratwell, now only
clasping his own with both hands, struck hard and knocked the
giant’s weapon straight from his grip.

Jarmin’s sword sputtered
through the air and landed down the street, out of reach.

Ratwell plunged the hilt of his
talisman into Jarmin’s forehead, making the giant’s head slam back
against the ground. Jarmin looked up, dazed. All this was taking
place much too fast. Francis gulped. He was repulsed at
Ratwell.

The people of the village were
crestfallen; their hero had just been disgraced.

And just when Francis thought
it was all over, Ratwell tilted his sword upwards and then
downwards, thrusting the blade deep into the giant’s chest.
Jarmin’s upper body heaved up off the ground, but his stare
relaxed, lifeless.

Everyone was quiet. Sound
ceased. A breeze hit Francis’ face and shuffled through his
platinum hair.

A wail erupted. A woman.
Francis thought that he may have also heard a man laugh.

Ratwell withdrew his sword and
wiped the blood off against the dead giant’s green-silver shirt, as
a woman, bawling, ran over. She was small, and older.
His
mother
, Francis thought.

She leaned over the giant,
paying no attention to Ratwell as he stepped backward, turning
around to grin, roll his eyes, and shake his head at the smiling
Captain Leonard and the now chuckling Elroy.

Francis felt a grip on his arm.
He looked up. It was one of the men in red, pulling him away.
Francis turned to look again at the island villagers. Many had
tears pooling their eyes, as they held children back. The man with
the high, fuzzy hair looked beaten as a thick, clear sheen glazed
his own eyes.

The more determined acrobat
from the welcoming act ran toward Ratwell with one of the giant’s
swords. He swung it, frenzied, as tears ran down his face. The man
with the fuzzy hair and a dozen other villagers all rushed and
pinned the acrobat to the ground. Francis could hear the proud
acrobat bellowing underneath everyone, crying out vengeful words
like a furious, wounded beast. Francis then heard the fuzzy-haired
man say, “We will not lose you as well.”

On the dock, Bodin made
everyone move onto the boat. “We leave now,” he commanded.

Once everyone was aboard, they
set sail at once. Francis ran to the stern.

The children of the village,
having been set free by the adults, poured onto the dock and the
beach. All rushed into the water. All swam toward the boat. And all
called out one name.

“Alianna!”

“Alianna! Alianna!”

Francis yelled out to them,
“I'll bring her back!”

One boy, swimming close to the
stern, looked up into Francis’ face. “I promise you!” Francis
shouted. “I'll bring her back! I’ll bring her back!”

Francis, eyes glassy, turned
and saw Bodin standing at the ship’s wheel. Several of the men in
red stood around him, speaking with him. Francis rushed him from
behind and, with all his might, shoved him. Bodin faltered forward,
crashing into the wheel. He spun round, as Francis charged at him
again, with full force. Francis smashed into Bodin but this time,
Bodin did not budge; he was now a solid mass of immovable
muscle.

“What is your purpose!” Francis
yelled up at him. “What is your purpose! Surely at some point, you
must have had some other purpose... than... than all this!”

Everyone stared at the two.
Elroy smiled over at Captain Leonard and Ratwell. They both smiled
back.

Bodin gripped Francis’ throat,
so hard that Francis began to choke, veins bulging on his neck and
forehead.

“You are never to speak to
me... like that... again,” Bodin spoke between clenched, pointed
teeth. “Or I’ll squeeze... all the breath... from your meaningless,
little life.”

Francis could no longer
breathe, but he kept his gaze locked on Bodin's own beady, fuming
eyes.

Everything went black.

Bodin let go. Francis
collapsed, onto the deck, coughing and heaving. He clutched his
chest and looked up.

“This will always be...” he
managed to spit out, “between you and me. Until this ends, this
will always... only be... between you and me.”

Elroy and Captain Leonard
rollicked with loud laughter.

“Everyone else here,” Francis
continued, still trying to catch his breath, “is just one of your
stupid, spineless pawns. But when it all comes to a close, it'll be
you... against me. And if anything is miserable, it’s what I have
to look at every day. And that's your ugly face. It’s like your
mother or father was from another species.”

“Oh!” Captain Leonard bellowed,
filled with happy anticipation.

Bodin seized the back of
Francis’ shirt and hauled him up over his head. Francis glanced
about, disoriented. Bodin turned toward the open cabin door and
launched him. Francis hit the steps inside, tumbling to the
floor.

Bodin slammed the door
down.

Francis placed his hands
against the wall and lifted himself.
The Dream Finder
, he
thought.
Where did Bodin put the Dream Finder?

He turned and saw that the door
to the empty room was shut. He moved closer, and heard a woman
sobbing on the other side. Francis lifted the latch and pushed. The
door was locked.

“You are to stay in bed,” he
heard a voice say behind him.

Francis turned. Bodin stood on
the stairs, staring down at him.

“What does the Dream Finder
have to do with my brother?” Francis asked.

Bodin never answered. He just
moved down, shoved Francis into their chamber and rammed the door
shut.

* * *

Late in the evening, as Francis
slept, drained by the day’s events, Bodin was awakened by a noise
in the dark. He stepped out of bed and approached the door. He
opened it an inch, glimpsing the corridor. The door to the next
room was ajar. Bodin moved toward it and pushed it open.

A bed sat in the middle of the
room, with a small boy of five, sitting up, the bed blanket still
covering his legs. He appeared shaken. Bodin approached, and knelt
on the floor. On the other side of the boy, a four-year-old girl
remained fast asleep.

“You heard me,” the little boy
said.

“Of course,” Bodin answered.
“What happened?”

“These men,” the boy said.
“These men took people away. And the people... I don’t know what
they did to the people, Bodin. The people never came back.”

“It was just a dream,” Bodin
said, comforting. “It didn’t really happen. You’re still here, safe
with me. It was just a bad dream.”

“I was so scared, Bodin.”

Bodin put his arms around the
little boy. “Well, there is nothing here tonight to be scared of. I
am here. With you. I shall always be.”

Bodin looked down at the boy.
He saw his own arms, crossed over around his own chest. There was
no one in his arms. There was no bed.

Bodin looked up. He had walked
into the empty kitchen… most likely while still only half awake.
Despair seeped through him. He had been fooled... once more. He had
only dreamt that they were back. How could he? It had been so long
ago. Bodin hated himself then for having believed that it had been
real... yet again. He stood, and walked back to his chamber,
alone.

Lily sat on the floor of her
lonely, unlit cell. The other cells along the corridor were silent,
and even though Lily could not see them in the dark, she guessed
that they were empty. It felt like days since she had met the King
of Spain. Her only relief came whenever a royal guard in a dark
green uniform, and carrying a lantern, brought her down some hot,
grey sludge to eat and tepid water to drink. She knew that they
were only feeding her to keep her alive just in case the map turned
out to be real and they needed her help interpreting it. She had
yet to make a plan as to what she should do in the event that the
King learned the map was not authentic but actually the flag from
her scrappy, homemade sailboat.

The trapdoor above opened, and
sunlight shot in. Lily shielded her eyes with her right arm as she
heard someone jump down. Her cell door was unlocked, and a rough
hand grasped onto the front of her dress, pulling her out of the
cell. Lily kept her arm up to her eyes. She felt other arms grab
hold of her from above and pull her up to the deck.

Her nosed breathed in fresh
salty air, and the wind was a welcomed caress on her cheeks.

“Malora has arrived.”

It was Martino’s voice. Lily
still did not want to uncover her eyes. The sun was too intense.
She had not seen the sun in… she had no clue how many days. She
felt dazed.

“All right,” Lily replied,
trying to sound nonchalant about the fact that the man who was to
decide whether she lived or died was now here.
I have to stay
calm
, she reminded herself.
And I need a plan. This Malora
fellow will know for sure what my map really is.

“This way,” Martino said. He
pushed her onward. As Lily walked, she put her arm down but kept
her eyes only half open. She could feel tinges of fear ebb away at
the insides of her stomach so she tried her utmost to keep them at
bay. She opened her eyes wider and saw that their ship was
travelling at high speed, the vessels from the Armada no longer
bound together but racing along with them.

They reached the familiar
doorway which led down to the King’s chambers. Martino spoke to the
two Spanish royal guards at the door. Lily could not help it; she
was now as frightened as a small prey about to be devoured.

“Malora is still with the
King,” one of the guards told Martino. “His Majesty requires your
audience. The girl is to be left behind.”

Lily felt relieved.
This is
a good sign. The King needs to see Martino before he makes up his
mind about me. This Malora mustn’t be so sure if my map is a fake.
This gives me more time to come up with something.

The door to the King’s chambers
opened and out stepped a pale, young man with shoulder-length,
black hair. This thin creature appeared much younger than the men
around him, and instead of wearing a dark green uniform, or a red
cloak, he wore black robes. Another man, this one dressed in a dark
green uniform, followed behind. He had greying, short hair and a
greying beard. The two men were in the midst of an argument,
whispering to each other with great animated hand gestures. The
young, pale man appeared quite peeved but Lily was too far to hear
what it was that he was peeved about. As they walked past, Lily
paid close attention and managed to catch the elder man saying to
the younger one, in a thick Spanish accent, “The beast is poorly,
Modo. That is the only reason the King wants you to remove it from
the Armada immediately.”

Lily turned and watched as Modo
and the older man walked to the edge of the King’s ship. One after
the other, they both climbed down a rope ladder.
They’re moving
down to a smaller ship still tied to this one
, Lily
thought.

She looked up and saw the masts
of the vessel they must have landed on. The main sail was raised,
black, and the masts began their move away. Lily was soon able to
see the whole ship, herself also black, as she sailed off, a crew
member in a dark green uniform now adjusting her black sails. Modo
and the older man were standing in the cockpit and Modo was still
moving his hands in grand gestures, appearing now to be shouting.
The older man just shook his head.

Lily took a few steps toward
the ship’s edge. She turned to look up at the two men guarding her.
Their gaze never left her. She turned back toward the black ship as
she sailed away amidst hundreds of ships, speeding. Lily wished
then, that a few seconds beforehand, she had had the gumption to
hop aboard Modo’s craft. She would be racing away right now, away
from all this anxiety she was now feeling.