Across The Sea (11 page)

“Surrender the boy, Bodin,”
Mann ordered again.

“Walk off this dock now,” Bodin
shot back, “and you all leave alive.”

Francis knew Bodin was
bluffing. He was far too outnumbered. He watched as the Captain’s
men closed in, almost forming a complete circle around them, the
two crossbows still targeting Bodin’s chest and neck.

“Bodin, you have no choice in
the matter,” Mann said. “We have you.”

“Yahhhhh!” one of the boat
sellers yelled, as all three charged the sailors. A trio of
sailors, who had been keeping an eye on them, swung their swords
against their attackers. One sailor knocked the sword out of a
seller’s hand and kicked him in the chest, making him fall off the
high dock, and splash down into the water below. A second was
kicked from behind and dropped off the quay as well. The last
fought on. Mann grabbed this fierce fighter from behind, by the
shoulder, and with one arm throw, launched him off the dock, sword
and all.

Francis looked up at the
sailors, trying hard not to move his head too much, lest he stab
the back of his own neck onto Bodin’s sword himself. The sailors
now encircled both he and Bodin.

“Surrender the boy, Bodin,”
Mann ordered once more. “You’ve no options left.”

Bodin lifted an index finger to
his lips, licked its tip, and then held the finger up.

“Do not forget the wind,” he
said. He put his hand down and smiled, revealing his pointy,
demonic teeth. “The wind is always an option.”

“Men,” the Captain announced.
“Be ready. He is about to attempt to break through.”

“I do not want to fight you,
Captain Mann,” Bodin said. “I know of your reputation all too
well.”

“You’re not leaving yourself
much choice,” the Captain shot back.

“You heard my warning,” Bodin
said, staring straight into Mann’s eyes. “Now, I must be on my
way.”

Francis swallowed again as he
felt the prickling tip of Bodin’s sword pull away.

The men behind Bodin raised
their swords, ready, as Bodin clenched the back of Francis’ shirt
and hurled him back, toward the end of the dock. The sailors behind
Francis lifted their swords away to avoid stabbing him. Bodin
slashed his sword at one crossbow, and then the other, so fast that
the men holding them could not register what was taking place. Both
crossbows flew up, loose in the air, one releasing its arrow toward
the night sky. At the end of the chain, Francis was swung to his
left in a semi-circle as the sailors all backed away, so as not to
hurt him. Bodin pulled and Francis careened back toward him. Bodin,
as he ran, scooped Francis in one arm and sheathed his sword with
the other.

He jumped off the edge of the
high dock and plummeted downwards, Francis still held in one arm.
He landed onto the small boat on his feet and fell to his knees,
dropping Francis. He reached out with one hand and pulled on a rope
which raised the main sail. He spun round, unsheathing his sword
and slicing the ropes tying the boat to the stilt.

The wind pushed them off.

Captain Mann reached the edge
of the dock and watched as Bodin and the sailboat moved away. He
could not let Bodin escape yet again. He turned back toward his
men, one of whom was placing an arrow into his retrieved
crossbow.

“Captain, what do we do?” an
urgent Templeton asked him.

“Stay here,” Captain Mann
replied, taking a few steps toward him. “I did not live through
this day just to wish him bon voyage.”

Captain Mann turned his
athletic frame toward the dock end and launched into a sprint. He
leaped off the edge, soaring toward the boat on the water.

Bang
! The Captain landed
on his feet, kneeling down to break his fall, right behind Bodin in
the cockpit. Bodin veered round, releasing his sword. Mann stuck
his sword up and stopped the blow.
Clang
! Mann leaped to his
feet and swung his sword. Bodin blocked it with his. They fought
on. Francis, standing on the roof of the cabin, could do nothing
but watch.
What can I do to help the Captain
? he thought to
himself.
There must be something…

Captain Mann fought with great
skill and dexterity, but so did Bodin. Mann backed Bodin toward the
bow as the boat sailed further and further from the dock. On the
dock itself, the two sailors with crossbows attempted to aim their
weapons at Bodin but they were too far now and Mann and Bodin were
too close together. The two did not want to risk shooting their
captain by accident.

Mann and Bodin, still swinging
their swords at each other, were now nearing Francis on the cabin
roof. Francis’ wrists remained bound together by the chain but
otherwise he was free to move about.

The Captain struck Bodin’s
sword up and now had an opening. He had known since this evening
began that this was going to be a fight to the death. He brought
his sword in for the kill, aiming straight for Bodin’s heart.

Francis held his breath.

Something pinched the Captain
in the lower chest. He looked down. Bodin had his own sword in
between Mann’s ribs, impaling up, right through his heart. The
Captain tried to meet Bodin’s gaze, but it was so hard to manage.
His heart was stopping. He glimpsed a dark beady iris, drowning in
a pool of translucent grey.

The sword pulled out.

Mann glanced at Francis and
Francis saw the Captain’s eyes, dimming. The Captain turned back to
Bodin, as his sword fell and plopped into the water.

“No!” Templeton boomed from the
dock.

Bodin was expressionless. “I
warned you,” he told Mann.

Captain Mann tried to take in
the last face that he would ever see. He had always believed that
he would die a heroic death; something grand, self-sacrificing.
Never, ever, did he believe it would be by the sword of some aging,
common thief. He slumped over and tilted backward, freefalling, and
hit the water gone from this earth.

Shouts of vengeance exploded
from the sailors on the dock but Bodin acted unaware as he stepped
back into the cockpit, sitting down on one of the side benches and
grabbing hold of the wooden tiller. His eyes never met Francis’
own. It was as though Francis was not here, on this small boat with
him. He tugged on the chain, making Francis dive off the cabin’s
roof and land beside him in a jumble of arms, legs and chain. He
pulled a padlock from his robes and locked the end of the chain to
a handle beside the cabin’s door.

Francis lifted himself and sat
on the bench opposite his captor. He looked up behind them, the
city of Grand Marine fast becoming but a series of bright dots in
the distance. He turned to look up ahead. He could not tell the
night sky from the dark water. On both, glittered the moon and the
stars. Francis was filled with thoughts. What could be worth all
this death? All this destruction? And where was Bodin heading for
in the deep dark of night? What awaited Francis out at sea?

Orange gleamed against Francis’
closed eyelids. He opened them, and then raised his hands to cover
his eyes from the strong sun, his wrists still tethered together
with the heavy chain.

It was the morning after Bodin
had escaped Grand Marine.

Francis brought his hands down,
and saw that he had fallen asleep, sitting up in the cockpit. On
the bench across from him sat the towering figure of Bodin,
steering the boat with the long wooden tiller.

“This isn’t about my brother,”
Francis stated, after a few moments. “He wouldn’t be involved in
something like this.”

Bodin turned and looked down,
meeting Francis’ gaze. The monster’s small eyes were almost all
white. A chill ran through Francis’ body.

“What would make you say that?”
Bodin asked.

“Because everyone is killing
each other…” Francis began. “Two Royal Navy ships sinking the Red
Mist. Naval sailors everywhere. And they’re not after me. They’re
not even trying to rescue me. They’re after you. You’re the one
they want. I saw it in that man’s eyes last night when he looked at
you.”

Bodin grinned and looked up
ahead. “I’m impressed. You’re a smart little boy.”

“So what is this all about?”
Francis asked.

“So what is this all about?”
Bodin repeated, as if he were speaking to himself.

Francis waited for an answer.
None came.

“What’s this about?” Francis
asked again. “Tell me. If this isn’t about my brother, what’s all
that’s happened about?”

Bodin took a moment before he
responded with, “It’s about what everything has been about for
about as long as I can remember.”

“And?”

“It’s about what motivates
us.”

“And what’s that?”

“Treasure,” Bodin answered,
lowering his white, grey eyes on Francis. He smiled his pointy
toothed smile, adding, “And it’s the biggest treasure of all.”

“Which one?” Francis asked.

“The only one that would have
all of us lying, betraying and killing. The only one that would
have England’s Royal Navy using all of her resources to pinch.
There is only one treasure that could inspire this much terror and
death. And that, my little boy, is the Treasure of Atlantis.”

The hair at the back of
Francis’ neck stood on end. “The Treasure of Atlantis is just a
story,” he rebuffed. “It was made up to make kids make their
parents buy them books. It doesn’t exist.”

Bodin smirked, lifting his gaze
back toward the sea ahead.

“I want you to tell me the
truth,” Francis demanded.

“Little boy, what do you really
know of truth? But you’re correct if you believe the stories you’ve
read, the stories written by Thinwinn, are fiction. Hadware
Thinwinn died a very wealthy man. But as a British officer, he was
intimately familiar with the many obsessions of men at sea; the
foremost being Atlantis, and its treasure. He may have created all
the adventures and the characters but not the Treasure. The
Treasure has always been; ever since Atlantis sank into the sea,
thousands of lifetimes ago.”

“Where’s my brother?” Francis
asked. He was tired of games. Tired of Bodin’s lies. “My brother
would never risk people’s lives for some stupid treasure. He’s not
like you. He’s not some greedy, callous ogre.”

Bodin smiled again, and then
looked Francis in the eye, giving him a cool look, one with
smouldering, murderous rage lingering just underneath. “I don’t
take too kindly to insults. Especially ones spouted from little
people such as you.”

Francis’ face blushed. He was
scared, but still determined to get an answer. “Where is Michael?”
he asked, point-blank.

Bodin looked up ahead. He said
nothing for a moment, before revealing, “Your brother had the
misfortune of coming across some valuable information while at
sea.”

“What kind of information?
About the treasure? Where the treasure is?”

“Exactly,” Bodin admitted. “And
extracting that information is proving impossible. That’s why
you’ve become such a commodity. Everyone wants to use you to break
him.”

“I won’t help you.”

“Little boy, you are not blind,
are you? Or have you not taken a good enough look? You no longer
make decisions for yourself. I do that for you now.”

“Where is Michael?” Francis
asked, his jaw tensing with anger.

“He’s under guard. Far away.
And the information he possesses, well… there’s now another
complication. But you and I will fix that. Together.”

* * *

Captain Strick, his face
bruised, and underneath his uniform, his torso wrapped in a white
cloth, sat behind his desk in his ship’s chambers. Across from him
sat Vice-Admiral Wister. Behind the Vice-Admiral, Kenworth and a
few of the crew stood by the wall.

“Late in the evening,” the
Vice-Admiral began, “First Lieutenant Templeton was appointed
Captain of the HMS Whisper and left at once to pursue Bodin. You
shall set out today as well. Gustavo Leonard may have been slowed
after yesterday’s skirmish; however, we can no longer assume that
he remains in Grand Marine. Throughout the night, all docks in the
city were patrolled and every vessel inspected. As of this morning,
nothing has been found.”

A knock sounded at the
door.

“Enter,” Captain Strick
ordered. The door was opened by a sailor guarding it. Two other
sailors entered the room.

“She is in the side
bedchamber,” the Captain informed them.

The two sailors stepped toward
the small side door.

Captain Strick gave
Vice-Admiral Wister an apologetic look. “I beg your pardon,
Vice-Admiral, but I fear there is little time to take care of this
matter.”

“It’s all very well,” the
Vice-Admiral replied.

The two sailors walked back
from the side door, escorting Lily away. She was wearing her
ripped, dirt-stained dress again. She stared straight at the
Captain. “I’m not leaving,” she exclaimed. “You need me.”

The Vice-Admiral and the crew
said nothing, although all were appalled by the little girl’s
impudence.

Captain Strick, without even
raising an eyebrow, replied, “You are being brought back to your
home. Your family will be delighted to see you again.”

“You need me on this ship,”
Lily stated. “You need me to help find Francis.”

“Lily, I saved your life and
you saved mine. We are even.”

“What are you talking about?”
Lily knotted her eyebrows. “It’s not about being even! What is
that?”

“It is what it is.”

“I’m not finished,” Lily said,
as she was pushed onward by the sailors escorting her. “Francis is
still missing.” The door was shut behind her. “We’ll see each other
again. You know we will.”

* * *

Outside on the dock, the two
sailors led Lily toward a fishing boat. Lily took notice that her
own diminutive sailboat, with its three-bird flag rippling in the
wind, had been tied to the back of this vessel.