The Wicked Passage (A Blake Wyatt Adventure) (13 page)

Rat groaned and slowly raised his head.

“Hurry!”
Erica pushed the cases aside and crawled under the bed.

Blake followed but stopped when he slid on a ripped page of the chronicle. He picked up the warm paper. A secret evil walks her decks glistened brightly on the scrap. “I can’t go, Ricki.”

“What?!”

“I can’t go.” Blake gathered the remains of the chronicle and tucked them between the banged-up covers. “History needs me.”

Erica stuck her head out from under the bed. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what these people want to do to us?”

“Yeah, probably something I won’t like.”

“I can’t leave you here! Uncle Leopold told me not to!”

Rat chewed on the string wrapped around his wrists. “You’ll pay for that,” he growled.

Airy, harmonious chimes began to sound: ting, ting,
ting
.
“The alarm!
Let’s go!”

“Tell Mom I love her.”

Ting, ting.

“I’m not leaving you here!”

“This guy knows who I am! He might be trying to stop Columbus.”

The alarm rang insistently.

Rat snapped the string and twisted to his knees.

“Let’s go!”

Ting.

“No!”

“I said go!”
Ting.

Rat snatched the watch from Erica’s hand. He stopped the chime.

“Stupid Wyatts.
Can’t even use a blasted tempus.”
Rat stood. “Who wants to be first?”

CHAPTER 13

THE TRAITOR

Dagonblud lumbered up the stone stairway and brushed Ickbarr into the cold, pitted rock wall. Pain coursed through his joints, and his body weakened. He needed more coriane.
“Out of my way, you little flea!”

Ickbarr regained his footing and followed.
“Yes, sir.
Sorry, sir.”

“Why are you hovering?”

“Something awful happened while you were attending the meeting, Imperial Regent.”

“I don’t want to hear about it now!”

“But, sir, I think you should know that--”

“Enough!” Dagonblud turned toward Ickbarr. “Look at me.”

“Sir?”

“Are you blind? I will not be humiliated again in front of the grand assembly.”

“The general was simply concerned for your health, sir. Your skin appears slightly, uh, pallid today.”

“You mean old!”

“No, sir, not at all, sir.”

Dagonblud bunched a handful of his hair into his fist and shook it in front of Ickbarr’s face. “What color is this?”

“Well, sir, it’s--”

“Say it! It’s gray.”

“Well, perhaps, it’s a bit--”

“Get me more coriane!”

“Of course, sir, but you should know that the Wyatt girl has--”

“Has what?”

Ickbarr closed his eyes and rounded his shoulders.
“Escaped from the dungeon, sir.”

Dagonblud remained silent for a few moments before continuing up the steps. “Remind me what happened to that general.”

“The one who inquired about your well-being, sir?”

“Yes, the one who told the entire grand assembly that I might be ill.”

“You had him locked in the dungeon and put him on the rack, sir, then gave the guards strict orders that he is never to see the light of day again.”

“Good. That’s what I thought.” Dagonblud stopped at the top of the staircase and watched his servant clomp down. He steadied himself against a wall and struggled to breathe. Why wasn’t the coriane working? He rested his crippled hands on Nura. “Tell me what you know about this.”

Defying his order, she transformed into the statue and remained on her perch.

“Foolish Wyatt.”
He knocked her to the floor.
“Ickbarr.”
Dagonblud rested his hands on his knees and wheezed.

“I’m coming, sir.” Ickbarr approached with the goblet.
“Your coriane tea, sir.”

Dagonblud took the cup, downed every drop, and gave it back. “More.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Have the guards searched the caves?”

“Thoroughly.
They informed me that the girl vanished, sir.”

“Impossible. No one escapes the dungeon.” Dagonblud dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. “Where’s Hugo Price?”

“The traitor’s in chains, sir.”

“Chains!
They’re worthless to a Wyatt!” He coughed and then kicked Nura down the steps. The wooden figure bounced and then, judging from the echo, crashed at the bottom of the staircase.

“Would you like me to retrieve her, sir?”

“No, she’ll obey me now. Just get my tea.”

Ickbarr nodded, turned and went down the stairs.

Dagonblud trudged toward the mirror. “Nura, I know you can hear me. Open the mirror.”

He heard rustling in the stairwell, and then he saw Nura fluttering up the turret. She landed awkwardly on her perch, favoring her left wing.

“Injured again? Now open the mirror.”

She trembled.

“
Do
it, or you’ll remain a mutant forever!”

Nura flew clumsily to the corners of the mirror and erased the reflection, revealing the vast room of history’s hidden treasures. She disappeared into the interior.

Dagonblud strode inside and stopped.
“Ickbarr!”

“Yes, sir.”
The servant rushed in with the drink.

“Where did you get the coriane to make this tea?”

“The same place as always, sir, locked under your chamber.”

Dagonblud smelled the steam. A prickly, briny scent wafted through his nose. It was not coriane. “I should have guessed--Wyatts.” He shattered the goblet against the wall.

Ickbarr knelt and frantically collected the broken glass. “I’ll get you more, sir.”

“Use these, you dolt!” He pulled coriane leaves from his inside pocket and handed them to his servant.

“I’ll be fast, sir.” Ickbarr backed out, dropping pieces of glass.

Dagonblud walked to the far end of the room and gazed at an empty shelf.
“Nura!”
He heard her wings flapping in the distance. “I know you took the black diamond. Bring it to me--now.” He hunched over and sank to the floor. “Or I’ll . . . break your other wing.” He tried to stand, but his legs buckled. Where was Ickbarr? Exhausted, he collapsed against the wall. “Perhaps your little village . . . Pérouges, was it? . . .
would
like another plague.”

He heard a loud roar, and then Nura returned, carefully placing the black diamond in his lap.

“I knew you’d see it my way.” He tucked the weapon into his jacket, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

“Your freshly brewed tea, sir.”

Dagonblud slowly opened his eyes and with a trembling hand took the glass from Ickbarr. He swallowed the liquid. Warmth traveled through his body. He felt his muscles grow and his strength return. He stood and inhaled deeply.

“Shall I fetch you more, sir?”

Dagonblud shoved him aside and hurried down the steps. As he flung open the door to the grand assembly, he heard cheers erupt from the spiral below and tankards bang together. Dagonblud raised his hand in Tolucan victory. Earsplitting celebratory shouts filled the chamber. He stepped back and snatched a burning lamp from the wall.

Ickbarr joined him in the throne room. “
Are you needing
my assistance, sir?”

Dagonblud kicked back the edge of a rug and opened a trapdoor. He squeezed down the narrow steps.

“Sir, what shall I tell the assembly members? They’re expecting the festivities to start.”

“I don’t care what you tell them.” He pulled the rug back over the opening and continued down.

Cold, musty air filled his lungs. A few guards patrolling the dungeon knew of the secret passage, but none ever ventured down it or asked him where it led. Of course, they never asked any questions.

Spider webs swept across his face the farther he descended. The air smelled of rot, and skin-blistering slime covered the rocks around him. The last time he had used these stairs, Michael Wyatt lay nearly lifeless at the bottom. Now, just as he was on the verge of victory, the dungeon had failed him. The Wyatt girl was gone.

“Sir!”
Ickbarr called out feebly.

Dagonblud glanced up briefly.

“Sir!”

Dagonblud heard Ickbarr tottering down the steps. He turned and yelled up. “Don’t bother me!”

“Sorry, sir.
Perhaps you’d like more coriane for your voyage.”

“What makes you think I’m going somewhere?”

Ickbarr caught up and stopped a few steps above him. “The last time you were in these caverns, you left with the sapphire traveler, sir. I thought--”

Dagonblud grabbed Ickbarr by the neck and dragged him down the stairs. Coriane splashed on the wall and produced smoke. “You are never to repeat that! Do you hear me? Michael Wyatt was added to my collection as was told to the grand assembly. They are never to learn otherwise.”

Ickbarr gagged and nodded.

“Look what you’ve done, you idiot. You’ve destroyed part of the membrane. That pleasure is
mine
alone.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Enough!”

“Yes, sir.
I’ll be near if you need me.”

The lamp’s flame dwindled until he reached better air at the bottom of the staircase. The secret door deep in the dungeon appeared through the darkness as the lamp’s flame grew brighter. He could see the thick, cloudy membrane coating the door, trying to repair itself. He placed the lamp on the ground, pulled on a pair of black gloves, and examined the opening. The iron deadbolts and locks were intact. No one could have escaped by this route. He freed the locks and dislodged the bolts. The thick stone door slid open.

“Ickbarr!”
Dagonblud picked up his lamp. “Ickbarr, where are you?!”

“Coming, sir.”

Dagonblud walked in and surveyed his dungeon.

“I’m here, sir.”

“Secure the doors behind me.”

“But how will you get out, sir? There’s no access from the inside.”

“Do as you’re told!”

“Yes, sir.”

Dagonblud waited for the thud of the closed door. He moved swiftly through a maze of tunnels and stopped at a door constructed with lodestone encased in heavy black metal. The magnetic properties of the iron-oxide disrupted the Wyatts’ powers. He removed the lock and swung open the barrier.

Inside the room a man’s body
hung,
his arms and legs clamped against the wall.

“I want answers!” Dagonblud set his lamp on a ledge. “Death comes slowly for those who wait for it, doesn’t it, Hugo Price--or is it Leopold Wyatt?” He poked his long finger into the dying man’s chest. “Clever.
Switching my coriane for something less potent.
Are you feeling what I felt? Are your insides being eaten away? Interesting how a substance so vital for us can be so poisonous to others.”

Leopold Wyatt cracked open his eyes. “You’ll get nothing out of me.”

Dagonblud folded his arms. “I see. So you think you’re in a position to negotiate.” He opened the clamps.

The traitor collapsed to the ground. He tried to stand but fell.

“Stay in the dirt where you belong, Wyatt.” Dagonblud ground his heel into the man’s back.

“How do you know”--he coughed--“who I am?”

Dagonblud laughed.
“Betrayer!
You lived among us. You ate our food, drank our drink. You convinced everyone you were a loyal Tolucan. What a treacherous plan! But I am curious. Why didn’t the coriane kill you? I saw you drink it myself.”

Leopold Wyatt said nothing.