Hammer of Witches (26 page)

The ship pitched sideways as Colón made a sharp swerve away from the shallows. The bow screeched underneath us as it scraped against the coral.

I hung onto the rail, shouting, “Leviathan, that’s enough! I release you!”

But the dragon continued to barrel through the shallow waters, its enraged eyes aimed right at me. I stood as the
Santa María
righted itself, watching the Leviathan’s fiery beam race across the surface of the bay. With a crash it carved through the front section of the ship.

A wave of faintness washed over me when I saw it, and I fell to my knees. It was going to kill me. My own creation was going to kill me.

“I release you from my service,” I begged him. “Please. Why are you doing this?”

The dragon sent out a hoarse roar but did what I said. Its body disintegrated into a million glittering pieces. I closed my eyes against my weakness and sank lower on the floor.

“Admiral!” I heard Vicente Pinzón calling somewhere below us. “We have a rowboat! Abandon ship! You’re going to sink!”

Sweating over the helm, Colón looked at me, then over in the direction of the voices. “So be it,” he muttered to himself. He flew down to the main deck, lugged me to my feet, and threw me over his shoulder with one hand. He climbed us down one of the rope ladders and into the rowboat that was waiting for us.

When we were halfway to the shore, the
Santa María
wobbled, collapsed onto the reef, and burst at the seams. Above us, the hameh flew south.

As soon as we
hit the shore, Colón uprooted me by my tunic and hurled me onto the sand. Forget the hameh, the Leviathan, and Amir al-Katib. Forget bleeding to death from the wound on my shoulder. This man was going to kill me with his bare hands, no magic required.

“You have destroyed my ship!”

“I . . . I didn’t mean to.”

“You have destroyed my ship, and you have doomed these men.”

A flurry of chatter rose up in alarm. “What do you mean, doomed us?” my old friend Bartolome said.

“With the
Santa María
destroyed and the
Pinta
who knows where, we’ve only the
Niña
to return us home! But it is too small to transport all of our crew. At least half will have to remain on this island until we can return for you.”

I buried my hands in the sand. Stranded. They were stranded here at the edge of the world because of me.

Colón continued, “We must collect whatever driftwood
and supplies we can from the wreckage. De Cuellar, you are in charge.”

“Driftwood?” said Antonio. “For what?”

“To build a fortress.” If it was possible Colón’s voice became even more bitter. “La Navidad, in honor of the birth of our Savior.”

Is it already December?
floated through my head, a thought so mundane it almost made me laugh.

“My men will help you,” Guacanagarí said with Arabuko translating for him. The cacique’s eyes were actually brimming with tears. “Not a chip of wood nor piece of string will remain in that sea. I swear to you on my honor as a cacique.”

The cacique’s words must have touched Colón deeply, because the admiral finally looked away from me and put a hand on Guacanagarí’s arm. “Thank you, Cacique. You are a true friend.” Colón then prodded me with his boot. “As for you. I gave you employment. Sheltered you from harm when others would have you destroyed. Although I suppose this is my comeuppance. I should have known the Lord would strike me down for harboring those who meddle in the Devil’s arts. I should have known the first time you drew that bird to our expedition. No, not ‘bird.’ That
demon
.”

Guacanagarí shook his head. “An ill omen.”

“Go,” Colón ordered me. “I cannot risk having you do more harm to my crew. Sanchez, bring some provisions. Some food and water.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You . . . you’re banishing me?”

“What kind of captain would I be if I allowed you to stay with us? You are a curse! That much is clear. If I let you remain here, I’ve no doubt you will destroy us all.”

I squeezed some sand in my fists. In the back of my memory, the Baba Yaga said,
A great power travels west, who will destroy the world as we know it.

Colón continued, “After what you did to my ship, you should be grateful I don’t have you hanged! Now go! Get out of my sight!”

“Admiral!”

Catalina rushed up next to me, her eyes more sunken and her hair more tangled than usual. “Admiral,” she said, “let me stay here with the crew. Please.”

Are you kidding?
I said to myself. Wasn’t she on my side?

Colón answered her, “I’ll not have your kind on my ship.” The admiral tapped his fingers against his side as he examined his battered crew. “But I suppose the men of La Navidad will need a translator until I return from Spain. You may stay here with them, if that is your wish.”

“It is.”

“So be it. As for you, de Torres, you will go now. May God have mercy on your soul.”

Catalina looked down at me with pity or guilt, then pushed some hair behind her ear and walked away. “You planning on leaving me too?” I said to Jinniyah behind me. Recovered from her burns, she pulled off my tunic and the linen shirt under it, then used the shirt and Catalina’s bandages to bind my
shoulder. Her jaw was set. When she was done bandaging me, I put on my tunic and rose shakily to my feet. “Let’s go, then.”

We limped toward the forest, that clot of green before us. Rodrigo Sanchez shambled over to us and dropped a bag of food and a skin of water into my hands, mumbling something that sounded like, “Sorry, Luis.” When he left Arabuko ran over.

“Your friends move about like living corpses,” the shaman said. “They believe living on Ayití will be their death sentence.”

“Some friends.”

“They should not worry so. Guacanagarí will let your captain and the other high-ranking men stay with us in Marién. We will provide the rest of your friends with food and help them build their fortress.” Arabuko circled around me to look me in the eyes. “I am sorry I cannot invite you to return to Marién with us. I suspect neither your captain nor my cacique would approve of it. But if you still plan to find the bearded man, follow the river south, and when it ends follow the sun.”

“You’re not coming with me?” I asked, heart sinking.

“My cacique has ordered me to help your admiral build this fortress, but after my service is complete I swear I will try to find you. If you lose your way, seek out Caonabó. Guacanagarí quarrels with him, but he and his wife are well-known for their hospitality. It will take a day or more to walk to their province, Maguana, but if you find them I am sure they will offer you shelter.” The shaman handed me a small pile of green leaves. “Chew on these. They’ll help the pain and stop your bleeding
and protect you from bad spirits.”

I stored most of the leaves in my bag and put a few in my mouth. They tasted mild and garlicky, like Serena’s eggplant stew. “Thank you, Arabuko.”

“May the gods watch over you.”

“And you,” I said. I shook his hand and watched him go.

When he was gone Antonio de Cuellar came over to me. “You’re going to say good-bye to one of those naked men, but you’re not going to say good-bye to me?”

I couldn’t bear to look at him. “Antonio, I’m so sorry for this. If it weren’t for me —”

“No, I won’t hear that kind of talk. Colón and the rest can say what they want, but you and I know who’s to blame. That Moor.”

The conversation paused there. Antonio went on, “Don’t you worry about us, Luis. I’ll admit I was planning on going back to Spain, seeing the good old ladies down in Palos again. But I’m a carpenter, and here I’m getting to build a fortress! Who knows? When I get back home I might well be famous. Antonio de Cuellar: builder of the first Spanish fortress in the Indies! I tell you, I could live with that.”

I tried to give him a smile as he put his hand on my undamaged shoulder. “This isn’t the end, Luis. In a few days, a few weeks maybe, the admiral’ll be off again, searching for Cathay or taking the
Niña
back to Europe. And then you’ll come on back here and live with us. What the admiral doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And look, I’m sorry for avoiding you
before. I don’t care what the rest of them say. Witch or not, you’re all right by me. Maybe when you come back, you can teach me to make one of those dragons, eh?”

I smiled, for real this time. “Absolutely.”

Antonio made a move to leave. “Oh, and one more thing, lad. A bit of advice you didn’t ask for, but here it is. If I were in your place I’d go into that forest and find that Moorish bastard that sent those demons to our ships. I’d track him down and end this business like a man. I know it’s not in your nature to do that, Luis. You’re like me — rather sit around with some pretty young ladies, tell a story, have a drink. But sometimes a man has to go against his nature and do the thing that ought to be done. You understand me, don’t you?”

I did. I took Jinniyah’s tiny hand in my own sweaty one and forged ahead toward the mass of forest in front of us.

“Infante, wait!”

I slowed my pace as Catalina ran up next to me, but I didn’t stop. “How can you stay here? I thought you said you were going to help me.”

“That was before Colón found us,” the girl said, looking away.

I stopped walking, and she did too. “Come with me,” I told her.

“Why?”

To be my friend. To help me. So Jinni and I won’t be so alone.

But I didn’t say any of those things. I said, “You can’t stay here! You’re a young woman surrounded by sailors who haven’t
seen a woman for months. It’s not safe!”

“Oh? And I’d be safer with you, I suppose?”

“Yes. I’ll protect you.”

That’s when Catalina got angry. “Protect me? Such a gallant knight!” She threw her arm behind her, gesturing at the sinking wreck of the
Santa María.
“Protect me! You don’t even know how to summon a spell without having it backfire!”

That volley hit me square in the chest, but if Catalina noticed, I couldn’t tell. She went on, “I can protect myself, thank you very much! So go. Go off on your little quest. I’m not going to be your damsel or your lover or your mentor or whatever other role you’ve assigned me in this little fairy tale of yours. I have my own story, and it ends in Cathay — in a civilized land, not in some miserable jungle in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well, good luck on your happily ever after, then. I hope you enjoy it.” I continued on toward the forest.

“Infante!”

But I didn’t look back. My wounds were throbbing. Every step was a pain for me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jinniyah give a small, sad wave back to Catalina.

“Good-bye,” she whispered. Then the forest enveloped us.

I hiked south, in the same direction the hameh flew. I drove myself through the knee-high sludge of the jungle, raging against it and against Colón, against Catalina and Amir al-Katib, but mostly against my own wretched body. By the time
the sun began to set I was aching with exhaustion, nearly ready to give in and sink into the mire.

At some point Jinniyah had returned to her original, flamehaired form. She hovered above the mud so its wetness wouldn’t bite into her skin. Neither of us had said a word since we had set out from the bay. Now she floated in front of me, blocking my way down the forest trail.

“Wait, Bal,” she said, so I stopped and listened to the rain as it began to patter on the leaves above us. I couldn’t stop here for long, I knew. I would surely faint.

“We need to go, Jinni,” I murmured.

The girl didn’t move. A few drops of rain burned into her skin as they hit her shoulders. “Go where?” she asked me, but I knew she already knew the answer.

“We’re going to find Amir,” I said quietly. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“And when you find him? What will you do then?”

I didn’t know. The rain fell harder on us now, beating against the wounds on my chest and shoulder.

Jinniyah flew in closer so I could hear her skin sizzling under the rain. “When we find Amir, you’ll talk to him, won’t you? I know that Antonio said you might have to kill him for what he did —”

“Catalina said the same thing too. And Arabuko.”

“But you don’t have to!” Jinniyah seized my hands. “Please, Bal. Talk to him! Convince him that what he’s doing is wrong! He’ll listen! Then we’ll find the evil being in the Baba Yaga’s
prophecy and fight him together!”

I removed my hands from hers.
Find him. Talk to him.
That had been my plan all along. But now that Jinniyah said it, it sounded like a joke.

Talk to him.
Oh, what did Jinni know? She was nearly immortal. She could walk right up to Amir al-Katib without having to worry about being killed. But I was human. I only had my words, and I knew how they could fail. What did Jinni know about words? Words cracked like leaves! Words died!

“I’ll try to talk to him, Jinni, but how do you know he’ll listen? You’ve seen what Amir’s done. He’s a monster!”

“He’s your
father!
”

“No, he isn’t. A defector, an unbeliever, a murderer, but never a father.”

“A murderer? What do you —”