Peter and the Sword of Mercy (43 page)

“We will find them, Father.”

Fighting Prawn grabbed his son’s forearm with an unusually strong grip.

“You will,” he said, his voice catching in his throat.

“Chief!” a voice called out. “A ship!” Fighting Prawn turned and saw Wandering Crab, a tall warrior currently on beach watch, beckoning urgently.

With a nod Fighting Prawn sent Bold Abalone off to organize the search. He followed Wandering Crab out of the village and down onto the beach. Night and fog still shrouded the coast, but in the distance he could make out the running lights of the ship.

“It may just be a passing freighter,” he said, although he knew this was unlikely. Big ships never came near the island, which was far from any shipping lane and guarded by treacherous reefs.

“I thought so at first,” said Wandering Crab. “But it’s not passing. It’s going back and forth, just outside the reef.”

“For how long?”

“That’s its fourth pass.”

Fighting Prawn frowned. Ordinarily he would challenge any ship that came so close to the island. But he didn’t like the idea of sending out canoes in the dark, and in a storm like this.

“Perhaps it’s looking for the men who were here,” Fighting Prawn said. “The castaways. That might explain it. Maybe some of their men were picked up by this ship, and now it’s searching for other survivors.”

“Then why stay offshore?” said Wandering Crab. “Why not send a landing party?”

Fighting Prawn nodded. He didn’t like visitors in any event. He especially did not like visitors whose intentions were not clear.

“Double the watch on the beach,” he said. “If this ship is still there at first light, we send canoes. With weapons. If anything changes, I want to hear about it immediately.”

“Yes, chief.” Wandering Crab loped back toward the village to get the additional men. Fighting Prawn trudged behind, thinking about the ship, and the missing children. At the moment he could see no connection between the two. It seemed to be a coincidence.

In his long life, Fighting Prawn had learned to be very suspicious of coincidences.

T
HE
C
AVE

C
HEEKY O’NEAL STOPPED
in front of the cave. Water gushed from the mouth and tumbled down the mountainside.

“It’s in there,” he told Nerezza. “About a hundred feet. The stream curves to the right, and then there’s a pool. It glows. It’s at the bottom of the pool.”

Nerezza nodded. “We’ll set up here,” he shouted to his men, the hole beneath his wooden nose whistling. “Put the crates over there. You two, put on the suits. Make sure every inch of your skin is covered, if you want to come back out of the cave.”

The men, though exhausted from climbing the mountainside in the mud and rain, set to work.

“The pool is deep,” O’Neal said quietly to Nerezza. “Fifteen, twenty feet.”

“We have rubber hoses,” said Nerezza. “They can breathe through those.”

“It won’t be easy for them, working in those suits,” said O’Neal. “And if a hose kinks while they’re down there …”

“We have more men,” said Nerezza.

“What about the children?”

Nerezza turned his attention to Little Scallop, Slightly, Curly, Tootles, and the twins. They were wet, mud-covered, exhausted, and thoroughly miserable from being half dragged, half shoved up the mountainside, tied together like mules.

“They could still be of value to us. Have the men tie them to that tree over there. Nice and tight. That way, they’ll be close at hand if we need them. If we don’t, we can deal with them later.”

“You mean let them go?”

Nerezza looked at O’Neal.

“I didn’t say that,” he said.

A
NOTHER
W
AY

“
I
DON’T THINK I CAN KEEP GOING
” Shining Pearl said.

Nibs hated to admit it, but he felt the same way. The trail was a river of muck. They were sinking up to their shins; each step was an exhausting effort. In the last few minutes they hadn’t gone more than ten feet. At this rate, they could take days to reach the village.

“And,” said Shining Pearl. “There’s that.”

She pointed to a pile of brown lumps at the edge of the path. Fresh boar dung.

Nibs nodded. He’d been noticing it, too.

“If Mister Grin gets a whiff of that,” said Shining Pearl, “he’s going to come hunting.”

Nibs shuddered, thinking about the massive beast with jaws that opened wider than a man was tall. If it came prowling down this trail, with the two of them stuck in the muck …

“Father says Mister Grin can smell it for miles,” said Shining Pearl.

“Really?” said Nibs.

“Really. And he’ll come looking for it in the rain, because he knows the boars move slowly.”

Nibs stared at the dung for a moment. Then he turned around.

“What are you doing?” she said. “The village is that way.”

“Yes, but those men took our friends—and your sister—back
that
way, up the mountain trail.”

“Which is why,” she said, “we’re headed
that
way, to the village, to get help.”

“But we’re not making any progress, are we.”

“No,” admitted Shining Pearl.

“So,” said Nibs, “maybe we can get help another way.”

And then, to Shining Pearl’s horror, he bent down and scooped up a lump of boar dung.

T
HE
S
ANDAL

B
OLD ABALONE STOOD ON THE BEACH
, staring out into the foaming sea, holding a woven grass sandal. It had been brought to him by one of the warriors searching the edge of the jungle by torchlight.

Bold Abalone recognized the sandal. It belonged to his sister, Little Scallop. His heart was knotted in his chest. He prayed that his sister was safe on the island somewhere, not out in the raging water. He could not bear the thought of having to tell his father.

He was interrupted by a shout from one of the warriors, waving at him from down the beach. Bold Abalone sprinted to him, hoping for word of his sisters. Instead, the man told him that the searchers had found a boat.

“Show me,” said Bold Abalone.

They ran along the beach to the mouth of Fire Creek. Bold Abalone waded up the creek bed to where some men were waiting. They showed him the launch, partially covered with leaves and ferns; the rain had washed some away, enabling the searchers to spot it. It was a good-sized boat, capable of carrying a dozen men. It had obviously taken a lot of effort to drag the boat into the creek. Whoever had put it there clearly did not want their presence known.

Bold Abalone ordered his men to search the jungle nearby. Then he stared at the launch, his mind swarming with questions. Who had brought the boat, and where were they now? Did this have something to do with the strange ship patrolling offshore near the village? Was it connected to the disappearance of the children?

A shout from the jungle; his men had found tracks. Bold Abalone ran to look. Like all Mollusk warriors, he was expert at reading tracks. A glance by torchlight told him that a large group had passed through recently. It included men, some of whom were carrying something heavy, causing their shoes to sink deep into the mud.

The group also included children, one of whom was missing a sandal.

Bold Abalone shouted orders. Two men were to stay and watch the launch. Two others—his fastest runners—would return to the village to inform Fighting Prawn. Bold Abalone would take his best tracker and follow the intruders up the mountain trail. As they started into the jungle, Bold Abalone thought about his sisters somewhere on the mountain, and about Mister Grin, who was likely to be prowling tonight.

Bold Abalone clutched the sandal tightly in his hand, and quickened his pace.

T
HE
C
AVE

T
HE CREATURE WAS RIGHT BEHIND THEM
.

Nibs and Shining Pearl could hear him coming through the jungle, his giant tail swinging back and forth, taking down full-grown trees with a single swipe.

Sometimes he roared, a sound that froze the children’s blood.

They were on the mountain trail, following the track of the men who’d come ashore on the boat. Mister Grin, in turn, was following Nibs and Shining Pearl—or, more accurately, the scent of the boar dung they were carrying. They’d each started out with an armful of the smelly lumps; Shining Pearl had tucked her precious white starfish into the pocket of her dress. They’d been hoarding the dung carefully, dropping a lump here and there, just often enough to keep the gigantic crocodile coming. The roars meant Mister Grin was getting frustrated—tired of finding boar dung, when it was flesh he craved.

He was hungry.

And he was after them.

Another roar.

“He’s getting closer,” said Shining Pearl.

“Yes,” said Nibs.

“I don’t think we can keep outrunning him,” said Shining Pearl.