Spirits in the Park (32 page)

“Rory . . .”

“Hello, Wampage,” Rory said, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Am I glad to see you.”

The storm had passed, leaving the Adventure Galley in still waters. So calm, in fact, that they weren't moving at all. The wind had completely died down, leaving them becalmed. Wampage dried himself off on the deck as Rory and his friends gathered around him. Rory quickly explained their mission, which Wampage took in impassively.

“You have had a difficult path,” he said finally. “And I fear it is not getting any easier. A great storm is coming.”

“I know,” Simon said brightly. “And it was awesome!”

“Not that small thing that just blew by,” Wampage continued. “That was but a hint of what is coming. I rode here with the true storm at my back, and I fear we will not be able to beat it back home.”

“What kind of storm are we talking about?” Alexa asked.

“I believe it is the catastrophe we were warned of, the island's last, greatest effort to shake the Trap off its back. The earthquake was but a nuisance compared to what approaches.”

“How can you know that?” Fritz asked.

“How can I not?” Wampage sighed and said no more. Rory couldn't bear it any longer.

“Did you find that god you were looking for?” he asked. Wampage glanced over at him and smiled sadly.

“Kishelamakank? Yes,” he said. “I found him. On an island far from here. He had been living there for years and years. And he had been expecting me. He had food and drink waiting for me when I paddled into his harbor. He lived simply, but happily, or so it seemed. But he was very weak. He has been almost forgotten. He had just enough strength left to know I was coming, and that a storm would rise soon after. We spoke of many things, most of which I keep in my heart, but when our talk turned to our people, he had a command for me: I was to return home and help our people through this storm. For it comes to tear us all apart. Our time has run out, Rory. We must open the Trap, or we will perish.”

They stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. Finally, Simon turned to the others.

“Well, that's a bummer,” he said.

“Where is Kish . . . um . . . Kish . . . ?” Rory began.

“Kishelamakank?” Wampage said for him, smiling slightly.

“Where is he now?” Rory finished.

“He is gone.” Wampage looked away. “Memory could no longer sustain him. He had been waiting for me—to warn me. He faded, leaving behind a gift. It was a sad day for my people.”

“What did he leave you?” Simon asked, and Alexa elbowed him for his rudeness.

“A single bead of bright blue wampum,” Wampage answered him. “The rarest kind. It contains his final breath. With that breath he told all of our lost stories. I will spend the voyage listening to them, absorbing them so that they will survive in me. If we make it back before the storm, that is.”

“How far back is that storm?” Alexa asked.

“Half a day. We must turn back now.”

“No!” Rory cried, startling them all. They turned to stare at him. “We're out here for a reason. To find my father. We can't go back without him. We've barely even tried!”

“It's too dangerous,” Wampage said. “You cannot risk it.”

Captain Kidd walked up. “Am I interrupting?” he said. “Glad to see you're all right, savage.”

“Don't call him a savage,” Alexa snarled. Kidd smiled.

“Sorry. Old habits die hard. We have to decide what to do. I overheard you talking about a storm bigger than the one we just lived through. If that is true, we need to head back toward the mainland.”

“If you do that, our deal is null and void,” Rory said darkly. The others gave him anxious looks but he would not budge. “I came out here to find my father. The storm isn't here, yet. Wampage says we've got half a day. I can't go back yet, not when there's still a chance we could catch him.”

“Rory, you're not—” Alexa started, but Kidd put up a hand.

“It is your decision, Rory,” he said. “Everyone's lives are in your hands. Are you certain you want to go on?”

Rory nodded. Kidd bowed slightly.

“Then we break out the oars,” he said.

Hours passed as they rowed the ship farther into the mist. Everyone was tense, as many of the sailors had overheard Wampage's warnings. Alexa wasn't speaking to Rory, she was so angry. Simon seemed unconcerned, flitting about, trying to learn how to sail and failing horribly. Rory wondered what was going on with him, but he was too wrapped up in the search for his father's ship to think much on it now. Wampage lay on the deck, staring up, lost in thought. Rory stood at the bow, staring into the fog, desperately searching for sails in the mist.

“How long are you going to give this?” Fritz asked from his place on Rory's shoulder. “What if his ship got caught up in the storm and sank? What if they never came this way after all? There are so many what-ifs here, Rory. Are you willing to bet all our lives on them?”

Rory didn't want to hear this.

“Everyone's been saying ‘Talk to Harry Meester!' So that's what we're going to do.”

“Even if it kills us?”

Rory's throat was so tight he couldn't speak. The bow of the ship blurred as he blinked angrily. Fritz shook his head, eyes filled with compassion.

“Rory, come on. You and I both know that you're not doing this for anyone but yourself. . . . But it's not too late. You need to let go.”

Rory looked away, wiping a tear from his eye. His hand came away wetter than he expected. It was starting to rain. “I'm sorry, Fritz,” he said, ashamed.

“Keep your apologies for when you need them,” Fritz said. “For now, let's just go home.”

Rory nodded, his hair moving slightly as the wind finally picked up. A happy cry came from behind him as the sailors realized they no longer had to row. But before they could truly celebrate, the wind exploded into a gale, rocking the ship. Rory reached out and grabbed Fritz, to keep him from falling. The roach yelled up at him.

“It's here!”

Rain began to fall, faster and faster. With a sick feeling, Rory realized that Fritz was right; the storm was here and it was too late. Fear swept over him as the wind pushed him back. Had he doomed them all? He ran back to the stern, where his friends waited with Captain Kidd.

“Turn her around!” he yelled.

“It's too late,” Kidd screamed back. “We'll never outrun her.”

Rory's heart sank as he looked around at his friends.

“I'm so sorry,” he said hopelessly. Alexa sighed but said nothing.

“I'm not worried,” Simon announced. “What's a little wind?”

As if in answer, a huge gust of hurricane-strength winds thrust the ship sideways. They all had to scramble to keep from being blown over the side. Rory knew that this time they wouldn't ride out the storm. This time they'd be battered to pieces. And it was all his fault.

In the midst of all this terrified confusion, Wampage calmly lifted himself off the ground. His eyes were flowing, but his face was determined.

“I am sorry, Kishelamakank,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I will remember what I can.”

He opened his hand, and inside lay a brilliant blue bead. It began to glow brightly, and Rory realized that he could hear words on the wind. They were the lilting syllables of a beautiful language, filled with music and light, and it made his heart glad to hear it. Wampage lifted his hand toward the sails, and they filled under the force of those beautiful words.

“Hold on,” the Munsee warrior warned them. He turned to Captain Kidd, who was staring at him with his mouth open. “Steer us home.”

Kidd's face changed as the realization dawned over him. He ran back to his helmsmen.

“Steer us west! If you let that rudder budge, I will cut you in half!”

The words on the wind rose as the sails billowed. There was a large shudder as the Adventure Galley lurched forward. Alexa turned to Rory, awe on her face.

“Those are the stories of his people,” she said.

“Well, they're saving our hides,” Simon replied. Sure enough, the ship was moving forward now, faster and faster, as the tales of Kishelamakank drove them on. Wampage held the bead aloft, sending his people's voices into the sails, all the while muttering under his breath. Rory stepped up beside him to hear what the warrior was saying. Wampage was repeating the same mantra over and over again.

“I will remember. I will remember. I will remember. I will remember.”

On and on, he recited those words as the ship broke free of the rain and raced westward, leaving the storm behind. The wind still blew all around them, but it was a good, clean wind. A wind that guided them home.

23

ATOP THE GREAT HILL

T
he dim light of dawn crept through the cracks of the roof of the stable. Bridget lay serenely on her back, listening to the birds and insects gradually waking up outside. So she was beyond startled when a voice whispered right in her ear.

“There's someone outside!” Hans hissed.

Bridget bolted straight up. Beside her, Soka and Finn were sitting up, rubbing their eyes. She stared down the ladder at Tucket, who stood staring at the doors to the stable, growling in the back of his throat. Soka quickly climbed down, staring out through the slats of the stable door.

“I don't see anything,” she whispered back. Bridget followed her down, carrying her backpack. She peered out at the tavern through the door; it stood still in the gray, early morning light. The grass glistened with dew, and no one stirred. Finn stepped up next to her, placing his eye to the opening between doors.

“It looks quiet out there to me,” he said.

“I saw something, in the bushes,” Hans insisted. “I couldn't quite make it out, but it was definitely a person—who didn't want to be seen.”

Bridget glanced back at Soka. “Sounds like Askook to me.”

“How are we going to get past him?” Soka asked, raising her arms helplessly.

“Will you keep it down, some people's heads hurt!” a voice called from the back of the stable.

Startled, they all hurried back to check on who was in the stable with them. Two men lay in the last stall, next to one of the horses. Bridget recognized them as the soldiers Catherine had kicked out the night before.

“It's too early for all this talking,” one of them was saying.

“I thought you were going home,” Soka accused them.

“We meant to,” the other man said. “But we didn't quite make it. I'm Ned Peacock, first sergeant, State Militia. This is Private Kindernook.”

“Tom,” the other man said. Ned gave him a look.

“When you're on duty, you are Private Kindernook!”

“What duty?” Private Kindernook shot back wearily. “No one ever attacked.”

“That's just bad luck, that is!” Sergeant Peacock replied haughtily. “We could have taken 'em if they'd tried!” He pushed himself to his feet, staggering over to his horse. “Now saddle up and keep quiet.”

“Sir,” Bridget said deferentially. “Would you mind doing us a favor? We think someone is lurking out there . . .”

“Yes, see, we've been followed by someone—” Soka said, but the sergeant cut her off, indignant.

“Citizens being threatened! Women not free to walk the woods! Sounds like the British to me!”

Before anyone could contradict the soldier, Finn stepped forward with a nod. “You've guessed it, sir,” he said, eyes shifting left and right. “The British are right on our tail.”

“By golly, you must come with us!” Sergeant Peacock declared. “We can assail them from the blockhouse! We've got cannons and muskets and the works! Oh boy, action at last!”

“How many are there?” Private Kindernook looked frightened. “I haven't really been keeping up with my cannon training. It's just the two of us in the little fort, you see, and I'm in charge of cannons.”

“You'll pick it up as you go!” Sergeant Peacock assured his subordinate, who turned green at the prospect.

“You know, even helping us escape would be a setback to the British,” Finn said, giving the girls a look that begged not to be trapped in a little fort with these two, waiting for the nonexistent enemy to storm the walls.

“That's true.” Bridget backed him up. “Just taking us to the north side of the Great Hill would be a deadly blow to the Brits.”

“That sounds good,” Private Kindernook said hopefully. “You hear that, Sergeant? A deadly blow!”

“I guess,” Sergeant Peacock said suspiciously. “I'd rather blow them to pieces in a gun battle.”

“But this avoids the loss of life while still crippling the British war effort,” Finn argued.

“Then mount up!” Sergeant Peacock ordered. “I hope your hound can keep up with our horses! You take the two young ladies, Kindernook, and I'll have the handsome lad!”

Finn looked like he wanted to protest about being stuck with the sergeant, but there was no time to argue. Soka smiled slyly at Bridget as Finn pulled himself up behind the sergeant on his horse.

“Serves him right,” she said, whatever that meant. Bridget and Soka climbed up behind Kindernook atop his steed.

“Hold on tight,” he warned them. “The sergeant likes to ride fast.”

They trotted up to the front door, Tucket following on the ground. Peacock counted to three then shouted, “NOW!” He urged his horse forward, bursting through the stable door like a battering ram, making Finn squeal like a frightened old woman. Kindernook followed, galloping past the sleepy tavern, down the hill, and away.