Peter And The Secret Of Rundoon Part 4

"You can read the articles," Ringwood told him. "We'll have copies upstairs in Archives. But as I recall there was a childa"a son, just a baby, left behind. Terrible thing."

"A boy," said Molly, suddenly feeling a strange chill. "Do you know what happened to him?"

"As I recall," said Ringwood, "he was not claimed by family, so he was placed in an orphanage."

Molly felt light-headed. "What orphanage?" she said.

Ringwood frowned and rubbed his chin. "Saint Somebody's, I believe. St. Nigel's? No, that's not ita"

"St. Norbert's?" Molly whispered.

"St. Norbert's! That's the one," proclaimed Ringwood.

Molly, her face pale, grabbed Ringwood's desk for support.

"Are you all right?" said Ringwood.

"Yes," said Molly, though she was obviously shaken.

"Well, in any event," said Ringwood, "this man could not have been your father's brother."

"Why not?" said Molly, looking up.

"You said your father's name is Starr," said Ringwood.

"Iauh, yes. Starr," said Molly.

"This man's name was not Starr," said Ringwood. He looked down at the ledger. "Quite a mysterious gentleman," he muttered.

"What was his name?" said Molly.

Ringwood looked up; his eyes met Molly's.

"The gentleman's name," he said, "was Mr. Pan."

CHAPTER 10.

THE JACKAL.

LE FANTOME TACKED TO STARBOARD under a cloudless, moonlit sky. The coast of Africa now loomed close ahead; Spain was somewhere astern.

It was just past two in the morning when the s.h.i.+p slid past the ancient stone jetty outside the harbor of Maknar, the primary port city of the kingdom of Rundoon. Helped by an onsh.o.r.e breeze, the s.h.i.+p made straight for the main wharf, where a carriage hitched to two horses awaited. Standing next to the carriage were four guards wearing the loose-fitting pantaloons and red tunics of the Rundoon Royal Guard. Each man had a large, curved sword at his belt.

Le Fantome was quickly tied up, and her gangway lowered. Nerezza thumped three times on the deck with the heel of his boot. A moment later, the dark shape emerged from the aft companionway. It flowed across the deck and down the gangway. Some of the crewmen turned away; others stared in open horror at the hideous thing that they had been traveling with.

Nerezza watched also; his expression was blank, but he hoped this was the last he would see of Lord Ombra. The instant the thought formed in his mind, the shadowy shape stopped on the gangway and turned slowly, until his facea"or, more accurately, the opening in his cloaklike shape where a face should have beena"pointed directly at Nerezza. For several very long seconds...o...b..a faced him, and in the darkness Nerezza thought he could just make out two red orbs, like glowing coals. Then the shape turned away and resumed descending the gangplank, and Nerezza could breathe again.

Ombra glided onto the wharf and slithereda"floateda"up into the carriage. The horses skittered nervously, unsettled by the dark creature. The guards, hiding their own nervousness, closed the carriage door and took positions on the exterior footholds. The driver flicked the reins, and the carriage rolled off the wharf, into the night.

It climbed the deserted road toward the center of Maknar. The air was dry and warm even at this hour. The road itself was made of sand and dirt packed hard as stone. Rising directly ahead was the royal palace of Rundoon's supreme ruler, King Zarboff the Third. It was an enormous, sprawling castle made of gold-hued stone, with a series of sharply pointed spires rising high into the night sky. But the carriage did not go to the palace; instead, it veered to the right, onto another road that carried it through a marketplace, deserted at this hour, and then down a hill. The road snaked through a series of progressively more crowded neighborhoods consisting of ramshackle mud huts built close together. A long snake slithered across the road as the carriage left Maknar altogether and entered the open desert.

The road here was no more than ruts in the moonlit sand; the horses strained to maintain the momentum of the carriage, a vehicle ill-suited to desert travel. A mile, two miles, threea"and then a foreboding shape loomed on the horizon. As the carriage drew closer, the shape grew more distinct, and its great size became increasingly apparent.

It was the head of a jackal, a wild predator related to the dog. The symbol of death.

The Jackal was made from enormous carved blocks of stone: two sharply pointed earsa"each sixty feet higha"rose on either side of a ma.s.sive head with cavernous, staring eye holes above a huge, cavelike mouth lined with rows of jagged teeth.

The Jackal had been built a thousand years earlier by a conquering tribe from the east, brutal warlords who had enslaved Rundoon for centuries. They had used the Jackal as a temple, a place where they conducted their rituals, many of which involved human sacrifice. Since their departure long ago, the Jackal had stood unused, abandoneda"and feared.

The people of Rundoon believed the Jackal to be possessed by evil. Indeed, many travelers, having made the mistake of pa.s.sing too close, claimed to have heard strange sounds or seen dark shapes moving about. The carriage guards had been handpicked for their bravery, but to a man, they were intensely uneasy as they drew closer to the huge jagged-toothed maw opening above them in the moonlit desert. The horses also grew skittish; finally they stopped, ignoring the driver's whip, refusing to go any closer. The mouth of the Jackal was still fifty yards away.

In the sudden stillness, the driver and the guards exchanged nervous glances. n.o.body knew what to do; n.o.body wanted to approach the coach door.

There was no need. With a creak, the door swung open. The dark shape oozed out of the carriage onto the sand. It turned toward the driver and, with a groaning voice no human throat could have uttered, said a word that in the language of Rundoon meant "Wait." The driver nodded, unable to speak.

Ombra turned and glided toward the Jackal's mouth. The moonlight seemed to press down on him, flattening his shape. He left no footprints in the sand.

Ombra reached the mouth of the Jackal and glided inside. As he went from moonlight to darkness, he rose to full height. Pa.s.sing between the rows of huge stone teeth, he moved deeper and deeper into the giant mouth until he came to a low stone archway where the Jackal's throat would be.

Without hesitating, Ombra glided through the archway into the pitch blackness beyond. He descended a steep, narrow stone stairway, the air growing cooler the deeper he went into the earth. Down and down he went, the stairway switching back, then switching again, then again and still again. Finally it opened into a large underground chamber, utterly dark to human eyes, though there were no humans there. The beings there did not need light, nor did they want it.

Ombra glided to the center of the room and stopped. What followed was a conversation of sorts between Ombra and the other beings in the chamber. It was not held in spoken words; it was essentially a mingling of thoughts. Loosely translated, it went as follows: I failed, said Ombra. The starstuff is gone. The Starcatchers returned it.

How did this happen? said the beings.

I met unexpected resistance, said Ombra.

From whom?

A boy.

A human boy?

Yes. But not an ordinary human.

A Starcatcher?

He is allied with the Starcatchers. But he has powers beyond theirs.

What powers?

Flight. And more. I touched his shadow, but I could not take it. He resisted me with great strength.

Is he a Watcher?

It is possible. But if he is a Watcher, he does not know it. He only recently learned about the Starcatchers. He was on the s.h.i.+p that was to carry the starstuff to Rundoon; he came into contact with it on the island. It should have killed him, but it did not. That is when he began to acquire these powers.

How do you know this?

When we struggled, I felt his thoughts. What is troubling is that, at the same time, he felt my thoughts.

What did he learn?

I do not know.

Could he have learned about the Reversal?

It is possible.

That is very troubling.

Yes. I came as quickly as I could to report this. I was damaged.

Where is the boy now?

I do not know. But I believe he has returned to the island. When we struggled, I sensed that he felt strong loyalty to his friends there and would return as soon as possible.

You must find him and bring him here. We must determine what he knows and what he has told the Starcatchers.

Yes. And the Reversal?

We will continue with our plan. But we cannot create the Reversal without more starstuff; we must arrange for another Fall. The boy may be able to help us with that as well, if he is a Watcher.

I will find him.

How far to the island?

By s.h.i.+p, a week.

That is too long. The time for the Reversal is close. You will travel in the pod.

Yes.

Bring the boy. Do not fail again.

I will not fail again. I will bring the boy.

CHAPTER 11.

THE UNSEEN ENEMY.

WE SHOULD GO BACK, said Tinker Bell, for at least the two-dozenth time. There's n.o.body out here.

"One more time around," said Peter.

That's what you said last time.

"This time I promise."

Hmph.

"You can go back if you want," said Peter, angling his body into a gentle turn, knowing that Tink would be right behind him. They were flying about five hundred feet above the sea in a sky unmarked by a single cloud. To Peter's right the moon shone brightly, twicea"once in the sky and once reflected below in the warm and placid water.

Peter and Tink had been out for more than two hours, patrolling in widening circles, gradually increasing their distance from Mollusk Island, which rose sharply from the sea about twenty-five miles off to Peter's left. They had seen nothing, and Peter knew he would have to return to the island soon, before dawn revealed his absence from the Mollusk village. He would be glad to reach land again; his neck was aching from keeping his head up while scouring the horizon fora Boats!

Tink's warning chime startled Peter, causing him to swerve and almost tumble head over heels in the sky.

"Where?" he asked, regaining his balance.

That way.

Peter looked in the direction indicated by Tink's tiny pointing fingera"almost straight ahead but slightly to the right. He saw nothing, but that didn't surprise him; Tink could see like a hawk. He altered his course slightly and increased his speed.

Why are you going toward them? Shouldn't we go back and tell the Mollusks?

"We need to find out how many there are."

Many, said Tink.

Peter, wanting a more accurate count, kept flying toward the horizon. In a few minutes he could make out a few dark shapes on the water, then more, then morea And then Peter felt a hollowness in his stomach as, suddenly, the whole sea ahead seemed to be covered with long, low war canoes. They were manned by teams of paddlers who sent the sleek craft surging through the water, each hull creating a ghostly moonlit wake of dozens and dozensa"perhaps hundredsa"of white smudge lines on the dark sea.

Now can we leave?

"In a minute," said Peter, determined to bring back a good estimate of the size of the Scorpion war party. "Just a little closer." He dropped lower, thinking that if he stayed close to the sea he would avoid detection. What he did not realize was that by reducing his alt.i.tude he was not only getting closer to the canoes, but he was also silhouetting himself against the brilliant moon.

Closer he flew, closera Look out!

Peter heard the warning an instant before he heard the sound, a hiss of air as something shot past him no more than five feet away.

An arrow.

Look out!

This time there were three hisses, one of them so close, Peter felt the air move as it went past. He banked hard to his right and flew straight up in an evasive corkscrew pattern, praying that he was not flying into the path of one of the arrowsa"there were many nowa"hissing into the sky, hunting him like invisible airborne snakes.

Alt.i.tude was the key, he knew; if he could get high enough, they couldn'ta"