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Read a Chapter Chapter One The cliff fell away sharply, plummeting some hundred feet or more into the aquamarine swell beneath. Lying across the ledge was not the safest observation post, but undoubtedly the most revealing. Daniel shifted his gaze to the left and looked eastward. The ship approached his vantage point and could be seen clearly. A real beauty, a three-masted schooner no doubt, and by the way it sat low in the water, it was almost certainly loaded with all manner of unknown goods. Behind him, he detected someone approach. The one-way conversation was a dead giveaway: Josh, and he was late again. Why’s he always late? No matter how many times they did this he always had a reason to be late. “Well what’s it this time?” Daniel asked. Josh didn’t answer but kept on talking to himself. Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “Get down, unless you want to sabotage the whole thing again!” he said. “You do it on purpose, I’m sure.” “Sorry.” Josh dropped down beside Daniel, who checked to ensure his best friend was as inconspicuous as possible, though quite certain with Josh, nothing could conceal him entirely, certainly not with his mouth anyway. “Well who is it?” Josh asked. “I couldn’t say who exactly, but I can say what,” Daniel replied. “See those sails?” Josh teased forward a little closer to the edge. “Yeah, so what?” “They’re almost brand new.” “And …?” Josh’s empty expression didn’t need interpretation, Daniel had seen it many times. “And anyone who can afford a new rig can afford a lighter load, if you know what I mean; besides look how low she is in the water.” Daniel reached around his neck and pulled off the stone pendant and chain his father had given him. He held the stone in his hand and twisted it over and again, playing his nimble fingers over the unusually shaped object and then held it behind his back in his left hand. “Pick a hand.” Josh chose the right. “I guess you win again, now what?” “I’ll jump. You can row.” “Any excuse to get wet,” Josh said, and slid backwards over the tufted grass away from the cliff edge. “How long you reckon?” “Seven, maybe eight minutes at most.” “Right, see you down below.” They gripped each other’s forearm in a gesture of good luck. Then Josh stepped away, and began to run down the path he had climbed and eventually out of sight. Daniel knew the path well, it led down to a small area of beach, mostly hidden from the
He lay flat and waited for Josh to reappear on the beach below. From his promontory, about a mile to the west, he surveyed the cove into which
Not everyone lived in the town. Daniel was glad of that. Endearing as
Josh reappeared on the pebbled shore below; his stout body and crop of thick black hair was unmistakeable in the afternoon sun. They exchanged signals, everything was set. The wind flirted across his back: easterly, his favourite. Since nearly all the Skeleton Archipelago lay to the east and his cottage to the west, an easterly breeze would always lead him home. Withdrawing his knife from its scabbard, Daniel ran his thumb against the blade; it was still sharp. Then he stretched out his left forearm and admired the marks which laddered his tanned flesh. Each one he recalled, a trophy, a sacrifice that afforded him some peace from a guilty conscious, his black dog of insanity, relentless and cruel. He notched a fresh cut above the last, and for a moment watched the blood flow, which validated the wound was sufficient for its purpose. The vessel was almost below. He was right, a three-masted schooner that graced the sea with her presence. She had a black hull with gold trim. Even with half reefed sail, her bow easily divided the rolling waves playing in front. They welcomed the vessel with approval, allowing her to pass, asking no questions and making no demands. How wonderful, almost surreal; how could the crew know of hardships, when a life on the open waves was reward for any man? Oblivious to the hunter’s tenacious gaze a hundred feet above, the schooner skipped along. Timing was everything and Daniel knew it. A moment too soon, and he ran the risk of being seen; a moment too late and all he would catch would be the next breaker rolling inshore. At least the schooner had slowed her approach, for that he was grateful; the chance of success had improved, maybe now it was even plausible. The moment had come, and he stole one last glance towards Josh: he wasn’t there, or not that he could see. Typical. But with no time left, he reluctantly gave him the benefit of the doubt. Daniel stood barefoot, tucked his white canvas shirt inside his breeches and fastened the three surviving buttons on his black leather tunic. Now ready, he curled his toes over the ledge, and felt the drop below pull his body forward like magnetism, a terrifying embrace he would not resist, instead choosing to yield to its seductive power. He imagined the gravity waiting, like an ethereal pall-bearer, to speed him downward. The rush was exhilarating. With a spring off the cliff edge, he launched into the expanse of thin air in front, and for just a moment, which seemed longer than it really was, he relished the weightless experience his courage had procured, as if here there were no burdens, no cares, no past. If only he could capture this moment and carry it with him, or somehow remain a little longer. No chance of that, Daniel knew it, and he prepared for the rest of the dive. His peregrine posture split the air like a bullet, falling rapidly into the wake of the schooner below. The impact of the water hit him like a hammer, stealing his breath, and gripping his body as though caught in a vice. The experience was short lived; in the next moment, he resurfaced alongside the hull towards the stern. Retracting the knife from his belt, he rammed its six-inch blade into the wooden hull. Gaining enough purchase to haul him in reach of the rope lattice conveniently trailed over the side, he held on tight, his legs dangling like a rag doll beneath. A moment’s breath; now for the tricky part! He pulled his drenched body upward hand over hand, muscles burning but solid like rock. Negotiating each rung, Daniel straddled the trellis, hauling himself upward, until eventually his feet could assist in the climb. He completed the ascent to steal his first look over the handrail. First reconnaissance revealed no immediate prospect, but then there didn’t seem to be anyone on deck either. This was it then, the best opportunity to board unnoticed. He rolled over the starboard edge, quickly taking shelter behind the cabin astern. The cabin that ought to yield something worthwhile. Fortunately the deck was still empty, getting in wouldn’t be so much of a problem; getting out again was what concerned him more. Spotted here he could simply jump overboard, but caught inside would give little chance of escape. But then he was never one to turn and run, especially having come this far. And he definitely couldn’t stay where he was, because a flock of gulls had gathered overhead, making such a discordant racket, he was convinced their siren “cack-cack-cack” would betray his presence soon enough. Daniel had to move. He spat the sea-salt from his mouth, and darted across to the cabin door on the other side. Hoping for a silent hinge, he guided the door to allow enough room for him to slip through the gap. It worked, he was inside and more importantly, he was alone. Instantly, Daniel knew he’d come to the right place: captain’s cabin, it had to be, no one else could afford such luxuries, certainly no one from Barracrail. The room sparkled with gold and silver, apparently a careless scatter of trinket, ornament and every embellishment conceivable, including the candelabra swaying from a central beam in tandem with the rolling of each wave. And yet each treasure seemed to have its own place, like it belonged. Daniel, however, knew he didn’t belong, in fact quite the opposite; intruding here he felt very much out of place, as if the room had eyes and looked disapprovingly upon his intrusion. He wished he could stay longer, but that wasn’t why he had come; even so, how tempting for the more unscrupulous. Out of everything he saw, two items caught his attention the most. First, the pair of duelling pistols hanging at the back of the cabin. He hated guns, but conceded they may be of some service should matters develop unfavourably, assuming they were loaded of course. And secondly, a wooden crate tucked almost out of sight, behind the ornate desk, which strutted across the centre of the cabin. Though it wasn’t the crate which was important, but what it might contain that mattered. Of all the clutter within the room this was the one item out of place; this was his prize, of that he was sure. Daniel raced to his find, took hold of either side and lifted the crate onto the desk. The contents were heavy. He was definitely onto something here, but knew he’d have to wait a little while longer to discover its treasure because it had been padlocked. Great, of all the things he could take from the room this one just had to be shut up like a giant clam. His heart pummelled into his ribs. There had to be a key. He yanked the first drawer of the desk open and rummaged through the assortment of papers: nothing. The second drawer was jammed and refused to open even after considerable force the handle almost came off in his hand. Opening the third was easier and caught him completely by surprise, though it wasn’t what was in the drawer that drew his attention but the effect it had on the rest of the cabin. A kaleidoscope of flittering multicoloured lights busied the air like flies. Some the size of marbles, spun a spangled web of light crossing the cabin, yet constantly changing, always moving. Daniel slammed the drawer shut. As though cutting off its power, the spectacle vanished instantly. He opened the drawer again, and the mesmeric cabaret of light flaunted without shame again, and Daniel was caught in its web. This wasn’t the first time he had witnessed such a display, he’d seen it before about eight years ago. Earlier that day, he had agreed to accompany his father on a wild escapade he had never understood; even now the questions still remained unanswered. “I can’t do it without you son,” his father had said placing’ his arm around Daniel’s young shoulders. He had just turned eleven; Daniel remembered it well because it was also the time when he had first met Josh. “I won’t allow it,” his mother objected pulling Daniel towards her, “Staffan have you gone completely mad? This business with the Treaty has gone far enough.” “Far enough… far enough?” Staffan cried. “No Sarah, it’s not gone nearly far enough.” Daniel pulled away and stood with his back to the fire. It cracked behind him. “But I want to go,” he insisted. “I never get to do anything exciting, mother please let me go.” “Fine, on your heads be it, but I want no part of it, do you hear? And when you get back, let that be the end of all this nonsense about the
Afterwards Sarah remained silent, though her face carried her disapproval openly; her tight jaw and piercing stare Daniel knew well. Only as they left their cottage half an hour later, did Sarah break the silence and offer a measure of good fortune for the journey ahead. The details after that were a little hazy, and though he had tried hard over the years to retain every moment of that night, time had faded some of the details, perhaps the least important. But the final hour was unforgettable; the arrival of their little row boat alongside the Elkendoran Frigate and the black shroud of night which had fallen, almost suffocating and clawing to steal his very soul, a palpable evil and though Daniel didn’t understand it, he knew the magic was real. “Up there son, see?” Staffan pointed to a small window towards the bow on the port side of the frigate, barely large enough for a squirrel, let alone himself. “Now remember, you go in, get the Treaty and get out again. Whatever you do don’t get distracted, there may be strange things in there you’ve never seen, but don’t worry …” “I know father, the Ancient will protect me,” Daniel said. “But how will I know where to look?” Staffan reached to take the pendant and chain from around his solid neck. “I had hoped to give this to you when you were older, but I think you need it more now.” “I can’t take it, it’s yours.” “You must! It will guide you to the Treaty, once you’re inside. And before you ask, I don’t know how, I just know it will.” Staffan placed the pendant around Daniel’s neck, it felt heavy. “When you find it, roll it up and place it in this,” Staffan said, handing over a brass tube, about ten inches long. “Isn’t that your grandfather’s telescope?” “Don’t worry, it’s just the case,” Staffan reassured. “It’s time.” Staffan whisked his fisherman’s hand through Daniel’s blond braided hair and within the next minute, Daniel had scaled the port side of the frigate and began squeezing through the tiny window his father had pointed out. He didn’t know what to expect, only that he was on a special mission which meant a great deal to his father and that was enough. At least the room was empty and fortunately lit, though barely, by a solitary candle which sputtered in the draught as if protesting against his intrusion. Daniel squeezed through the opening to complete his arrival, and landed on his hands in absolute silence. From the rugged wooden floor, he glanced up and swore he caught sight of a sinister shadow fleeting across the opposite wall. Too quick to decipher in detail, but whatever it was had a horned head, wings and a long tail. Limbs frozen through fear, he could barely move. The shadow had gone but the room was pregnant with evil; it wrapped around him, closing like a trap. He gasped for air but it wasn’t enough, he looked at the candle and resented its consumption of precious oxygen. The minutes raced. He remained on his knees, daring not to move and invoke the apparition once more. The clunk of nearby keys finally shook him out of his stupor, and for a moment he was convinced the solitary door to the room would open and he would be caught. He held his breath. Another minute passed. Why had he agreed to come? This was the worst moment of his life, and yet somehow the rush was exhilarating, like nothing he had ever experienced; and now he was here, would he change a thing? He was convinced he would not. Whether he liked it or not, he was hooked. Fear was something that had its own rewards. The heavy clomp of footsteps faded into the distance. Perhaps fear could be tamed and used for a better purpose; Daniel decided to find out. He rose to his feet and crept across to the candle which looked brighter, its flame steady and bold. It sat on a small candlestick perched precariously on the edge of a wooden table across the other side of the room. He picked it up and moved slowly around the cabin. One wall was lined with books, and another with a cupboard that looked like it didn’t belong. Everything was exactly as his father had described it, but how could he know? A desk sat almost under the window, and Daniel was surprised how he had never noticed it previously. This had to be a good place to start. The papers scattered quickly across the desk as he began to rummage through. They were dry and brittle and belonged more in a museum than on a frigate. He checked each one, carefully reading their contents, but none looked anything like a treaty. Panic waited to tear him apart, he could sense it linger. But any fear had to be overcome so he determined not to be a victim and rammed the subversive emotion into submission. He ransacked the room, and then again. Why wasn’t the pendant working? He stood no chance on his own. Daniel clutched the cold stone in his hand. “You’re going to have to do better than this,” he pleaded, then running to the desk once more, he took hold of the top drawer and dragged it open. It sprang out almost on its own. Immediately after opening the drawer, the most startling display of lights shot from the pendant, spiking the air with shafts of colour dancing on the beamed ceiling and across the walls of the room. Daniel cradled the pendant in his hand, it was hot and transparent. The lights formed into a myriad of globules, like heavy rain; a mist of amber, and ruby, amethyst and turquoise, and other colours iridescent and pure, colours unknown as though belonging to another world, another time. Drawn into their power, it was the sign he needed. He reached into the drawer and took out the document it contained. There in large letters at the top of the paper it read, “The Treaty of Elkendor”. The document was laid on the desk and then rolled so it fit neatly into the brass tube, a perfect fit. But the moment the tube was closed, the pendant cooled and turning opaque once more, it ended its show of lights as swiftly as it had begun. Daniel was relieved; his mission had been a success after all. Now get out quick. Too late. The clomp of footsteps returned and stopped outside the door. Daniel raced to the window; it looked even smaller. Poking his head through, he was relieved to find his father still tethered to the frigate waiting for his return. Staffan glanced upwards. “Quick father, I’ve got the Treaty.” “Drop it down Daniel, but be careful.” Daniel didn’t need to be told twice, he could hear the chink of what had to be jostling keys; someone was coming into the room. He calculated the fall and dropped the tube with precision, right into Staffan’s hands. The door swung open. A squat figure, heavily clad in studded leather, pounced into the room. Daniel tried to make his escape, but stood no chance. Before he could even get half way through the opening the crushing grip of the figure’s hands clamped around his ankles. He tried to wedge himself stuck, but the sheer brute strength of his attacker was overwhelming. The attempt to escape was short lived, he had been caught. Daniel was ashamed. If only he’d been faster, surely he could have escaped with just another minute. He would have traded all the years from that moment to this, for just one more minute in that room, another chance to prove to his father he was not a failure, another chance to gain his father’s approval, but the moment was gone; he could never turn the clock back, and he was sentenced to live the rest of his life in guilt over what happened next. |
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