Across The Sea (19 page)

Francis felt a tingling chill.
“Michael?” he asked.

“Yes. But the English Military
soon caught up with her as well and poisoned her. She was told that
the antidote would only be administered if she revealed to them the
location of Atlantis and of its treasure. She refused and managed
to escape. She ran to your brother who was about to take leave on a
ship. She told him she would provide him with the location of the
Treasure but only in a dream, an ancient skill she had learned from
her mother. If the Dream Finder on the island of Alantalee found
his cause just, she would visit his dreams, unlock the information
and give it to him. The young woman never told your brother about
the poison coursing through her veins. She died shortly
thereafter.”

Francis’ mind was racing.
Why would the English Military do such a terrible thing? Just
for treasure? And why would this woman just not tell them where
Atlantis was? A treasure isn’t worth dying for.

Francis had so many questions
but he kept silent. For now. He was not about to interrupt Bodin
and risk the creature clamming up.

“The British learned that your
brother was the last person the young woman had met with and
searched high and low for him,” Bodin continued, “and not being
able to locate their original mole within the Watermark, they had a
very difficult time. I, on the other hand, made contact with their
mole quite easily. I found him on the streets on London, drunk. His
laughable conscience had gotten the best of him. He had felt guilt
at what had become of the young woman and had fled the Royal Navy,
cursing them. He sold me the information I needed, not realizing my
true intentions. He told me what the young woman had done to your
brother and where I could find him. I then informed my employer,
the King of Spain, and he placed me aboard a ship from the
Brotherhood of Blood. It didn’t take long before the crew and I
managed to sail close to the merchant ship your brother was aboard
and take him as our prisoner, making it look like pirates had
absconded with him, and not the Spanish. We bid our time before we
moved forward with our plan again so as not to alert the British.
All we needed was the Dream Finder to coerce into working with us.
But we also knew that if the Dream Finder was to enter and explore
your brother’s dreams, his mind must be left open for her to enter.
Your brother is a very stubborn, young man. This is when you became
our leverage against him.”

Bodin stopped… as if he had
said too much.

Francis wanted Bodin to go on.
He was desperate for more information.

“Why would Michael be a part of
the Watermark?” he asked. “What does the Watermark want?”

Bodin did not respond. All
Francis heard then was Bodin turning over in his bed. Francis knew
what this meant: Bodin was done speaking for the night.

“Michael doesn’t care about
your stupid treasure,” Francis concluded.

* * *

Lily crept in the night past the
door where she had heard the monster only a few hours before. She
now heard nothing.
Good
. She wanted to sneak through the
nearby door which led down to the kitchen. She was still hungry and
wanted more to eat.

She opened the latter door and
stepped down a short stairway into a darkened corridor. She heard
men talking, moving straight toward her. Lily spun and rushed back
up the steps. She slipped through the door, and with great care,
shut it behind her. She heard quick footsteps. She stepped off to
one side as the door shot open and two men darted out. Ahead, off
to her left, Lily was blinded by a bright light. She squinted and
made out the slender, robed figure of Modo, holding a lit lantern
while approaching the men.

Lily lay down flat on her
stomach. She had to move away before Modo’s lamp revealed her. She
looked up to see if there was anything she could hide behind. She
saw nothing but the light of the lamp, casting itself onto the
surface of the deck, and fast advancing toward the darkness in
which she was concealed. Lily reached up and felt a door latch. She
pushed open its door, crawled in and closed the door behind her.
This was the door to the monster; she was aware of this upon
entering, and scared.

In the pitch black dark, Lily
curled up in a ball against the shut door. She made a quick, silent
wish that the monster had not heard her. She stayed where she was
and tried to breathe as little as possible and without any
noise.

The men outside remained, all
talking at once.

“I know what I seen,” said one
of them with an accent. “They were a small person.”

“Where is this small person,
Mister Cabeletti?” asked someone with an accented and long, creepy
drawl.

Lily heard something move in
the room. Something large. It huffed. Lily trembled. The monster
charged at her, emitting a blaring, hurling sound.

Lily somersaulted off to one
side, hoping to move out of its way, but the creature’s maw caught
her in the chest, and sent her flying against the door.

Lily fell to the floor, as the
monster’s cold, sopping mouth grazed against her face. Lily felt
like screaming but she did not want to announce herself to the men
outside. The beast sniffed her hand with its wet nose, and then
snorted. Lily took a breath in, terrified.

The door latch jiggled outside
– making Lily jump, and the beast back off. The door was pushed.
Lily rolled herself, hiding behind the door as it opened and light
invaded the room.

Two figures entered, one
holding the lit lantern. The light shone on the beast, and as it
stepped back from the men, Lily got to see what it looked like. She
gasped. The monster was not what she had expected at all. It was
tall, beautiful. Lily had never seen such a majestic being
before.

It was a dark chocolate
coloured horse.

“Now, now Mica,” one of the men
said. He was the man who spoke in the accented drawl. “For a king’s
horse, you are awfully meek.”

While remaining concealed
behind the door, Lily took a peek at the two men. The person who
had just spoken was the thin, pale man in the black robes; the man
called Modo. The other was the elder man Modo had been speaking
with on the King’s ship.

“The King’s horse is ill,” the
older man stated, also sporting a Spanish accent. He stepped up to
Mica and placed his hand on his nose, as though trying to gauge
just how ill the dark horse was. “His Majesty had every intention
of riding it once we arrived on Atlantis. Unbeknownst to anyone,
however, water does not agree with it.”

“Will this horse die on my
ship, Mister Wazee?” Modo asked.

Lily realized that this other
man, Mister Wazee, was a stableman. “Not if we can get it to land
in time,” he replied.

Lily noticed that Mica, the
horse, kept his eyes on Modo the entire time. He did not trust the
bony, colourless man.

Modo handed the lantern over to
Mister Wazee and exited. Lily remained and spied on the stableman
as he proceeded to tidy Mica’s stable, Mica never giving any
indication that Lily was hidden behind the door. Lily appreciated
this very much. Mister Wazee finished and walked out, taking the
lantern with him. He shut the door behind him, leaving Lily and
Mica in darkness.

Lily stood and approached Mica.
She needed to let him know that they had something in common: she
too did not trust Modo. She reached out her hand in the dark and
let her fingertips brush against Mica’s nose. Mica moved his head
down and snuggled his nose against Lily’s neck, and then her
cheek.

“We’re friends now,” she told
him. “We can help each other.”

* * *

Francis pretended to be asleep.
At best, this was risky but Francis needed more answers than Bodin
was willing to provide, so once a few hours had passed since Bodin
had spoken with him, Francis, in his loose shirt, hopped out of his
hammock, snatched his belt off the floor and tip-toed straight
toward the room where the Dream Finder was imprisoned.

He inserted the buckle’s needle
into the door’s keyhole and moved it until he felt something inside
the lock snap into place. He pushed the door open.

“Hello?” a soft voice called
out from the darkness.

“Shhhh,” Francis replied. He
stepped forward and shut the door behind him. “It’s just me,” he
whispered back. “Francis. And I’m sorry… about… everything.”

“Come here,” the voice in the
dark said. Without any apparent reason, Francis grew scared. He had
no idea who it was in the room with him. Perhaps they had moved the
Dream Finder and this voice meant him harm. “Hello?” the voice
called again. Francis recognized it. It was the warm voice of the
woman he had met on the island. The voice that had made him feel so
safe. He sat beside where he believed the Dream Finder sat.

“Hello,” he answered back.

A hand grasped his arm and
pulled. Francis let himself be drawn in close as a pair of warm
arms tightened around him.

“How are you?” the Dream Finder
asked. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Francis answered. “I
need to ask you something. Really fast.”

The Dream Finder let go and
reached in to hold his hand. “What?”

“Why… why did England give up
on Atlantis all those years ago? And then, what made them believe
again?”

“England never truly gave up
hope on Atlantis. They just gave up on Dreighton.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Those who visit Alantalee, our
island, have always brought us news from the rest of the world.
Decades ago, sailors spoke only of Robert of Dreighton. And his
fate. They all told us how Dreighton had gone from being England’s
favourite son to the laughingstock of the Royal Navy. Some said
Dreighton had gone mad trying to find Atlantis. The Royal Navy had
ceased funding his expeditions, saying they had spent enough
already and that Dreighton always came up short. They also advised
Dreighton that he needed rest. Dreighton had not seen his family in
over a year. Upon returning to the village where he was born,
Dreighton found everything… burned to the ground. His family, his
neighbours, everyone… killed.”

Francis was aghast. He had
wanted to ask about the “Acadae” but now found himself enrapt in
the Dream Finder’s story.

“Dreighton was rabid,” the
Dream Finder continued. “One theory many believe was that a port
town not too far from where the village of Dreighton was located
had become envious of all the business the village was acquiring in
its own harbour. Someone from this neighbouring town reported to
British officials that the village of Dreighton was openly
practicing a Christian religion other than the one sanctioned by
the oft-changing Church of England. Troops were deployed and the
village of Dreighton was razed to the ground.”

Francis could not believe that
something like this could actually happen.

“For years afterward,” the
Dream Finder went on, “Robert of Dreighton attempted to hunt who
was responsible. He came face to face with many military officials
but was never able to discover who actually gave the order to level
his village or any names of those who were involved. He gave up. He
went back out to sea. He disappeared.”

“Where did he go?” Francis
asked.

“Most sailors believe that the
Royal Navy deduced Dreighton had gone out to search for Atlantis on
his own. However, he knew too much for their liking. They deemed
him to be a threat. Even if he had gone mad many years before, he
still knew too many of their secrets. A young assassin was
discovered who was as skilled at sea as he was lethal. He was paid
large sums to make certain Dreighton never return from where he
vanished to.”

“For knowing about a treasure
that no one could find,” Francis began, “or for knowing about the
Acadae?”

“How do you know of the
Acadae?” the Dream Finder asked.

“I found a book. Here on this
ship. What is it?”

“It’s an ancient word. It means
across the sea. Across nothingness. Only water and sky...”

The door slammed against
Francis’ back, hurtling him forward. He collided into the Dream
Finder who gasped and tried to help him back up, but a strong light
flashed into the room and a large hand seized the back of Francis’
shirt collar, hauling him backward and up to his feet. The large
hand then pounded into the back of his left shoulder, spinning
Francis around. Francis swung his arms out to retain his balance as
he looked up, staring straight into Bodin’s wide and livid face,
which appeared twisted and uglier than ever before.

“What are you doing here!”
Bodin blasted.

“Please, do not hurt him!” the
Dream Finder pleaded.

Francis, filled with terror,
saw Captain Leonard standing behind Bodin, sneering happily at
Francis.

Bodin gripped both of Francis’
shoulders and flung him off to his right. Two hands, from behind,
caught him. One hand let go and clutched the back of his neck.
Francis twisted his head to look back at the person hurting him.
The clench tightened, and Francis saw Ratwell’s smiling face as
Ratwell pushed the icy tip of his sword against his back.

“I should have known tonight,”
Bodin said. “I should have known when you were asking all those
questions that you would end up here.”

“How did he get in here in the
first place?” Captain Leonard asked. “Have those legendary
instincts left you, Bodin?”

Bodin turned to Captain
Leonard. “Or is the once almighty assassin,” Leonard kept on, “now
a little too long in the tooth to even go up against a small
mucus-dripping child. I thought you never slept. Perhaps now you
need to.”

Francis knew Captain Leonard
was baiting Bodin to get even angrier with him. He felt his
breathing grow heavy with fright as Ratwell’s blade stayed pressed
against his back and Bodin stepped toward him, his beady, grey eyes
connecting with his own and burrowing holes right through to his
quivering heart.