Abandoned Memories (44 page)

Halfway down the second stairway, a dozen pirates appeared, torches in hand, the flames distorting the terror on their faces as they pushed past them, shouting, cursing, and scrambling on top of each other to get away from the mayhem. Four colonists—three farmers and the cooper—followed fast on their heels in much the same condition.

“Doc, Colonel!” Mr. Jenkins shouted as he passed. “The walls are caving in. Get out now!” The others nodded their agreement as they shoved by them.

Angeline trembled in James’s arms. Dust filled the air. Bending over, she coughed. But they couldn’t go back now. God had sent His light as confirmation they were doing the right thing. Hadn’t He? Ah, why so many doubts? When James had been so full of faith just that morning. When all these troubles should prove they were in God’s will. Why else would the enemy be coming so hard and fast against them?

James squeezed through the opening into the first chamber and turned to assist Angeline. A jolt caused him to lose his balance. They both went tumbling to the dirt, barely missing a row of sharp stalagmites. Flickering light from torches on the walls wove a kaleidoscope of devilish shapes over the craggy ceiling. Dizzy, James closed his eyes. The ground rattled beneath him. The foul stench of sulfur and death stole his breath. Coughing, he tried to rise, but nausea churned in his belly. He had to get up. He had to go on. His friends depended on him. God depended on him.

Yet fear kept him paralyzed. Fear of failure. Fear of dying. Of losing Angeline, losing his friends, people who counted on him. Heat enflamed him. Overwhelming heat, as if he’d been thrust into an oven. His skin prickled. Blood boiled through his veins. He looked at Angeline beside him. Like a wilted flower, she melted on the ground.

What was he doing? Who did he think he was? He’d failed at everything in his life, what made him think he could succeed in defeating such powerful beings?

Angeline’s gaze locked upon his. She must have read his thoughts for she struggled to rise and tugged on his arm. “Get up, James! Get up. We need you!”

Her violet eyes sparked with life, determination, and something else…faith. In him?

Forcing himself up, he gathered her in his arms. “Thank you,” he said as Blake and Eliza poked through the opening, followed by Hayden and Magnolia. Sweat matted hair to their heads and darkened their torn clothing. Scratches lined their arms and faces—faces stark with fear but also set with determination. All four of them swayed in his vision as if he’d had too much to drink. But it was the ground still moving beneath them, rising and falling like ocean swells. Blake gave him a nod of encouragement.

Rattling drew James’s gaze to the broken irons at the bottom of the two empty alcoves. They leapt over the dirt with each thrust of the ground. But no. Not with each thrust. Their movements were driven and angry as if something…or someone…moved them. His throat closed.

A missile fired from above, spearing the dirt beside him. Then another and another. The stalactites loosened, one by one, and shot to the ground. Tucking Angeline beneath his arm, he ducked and dodged, making his way to the opening that led to the chamber below. Magnolia screamed.

“Run!” Blake yelled, shielding Eliza with his body as he stumbled forward. Spears rained down upon them like lightning rods.

A growl spun James around. A shard impaled Hayden’s foot. He yanked it out. Blood squirted, which would normally have sent James cowering. He started for his friend, but Magnolia knelt and pressed her handkerchief over the wound.

The hail of spikes continued.

Eliza and Blake disappeared through the opening. James shoved Angeline through and then turned to help Magnolia and a limping Hayden before jumping in behind them. More darkness. The shaking increased. James felt as though he were trapped in the hold of a ship during a mighty squall. No, much worse than that, for at least the hull of the ship was made of wood not rock as sharp as spears. He groped to find Angeline but lost his footing and was thrown against his friends. They fell, tumbling downward, screaming, legs and arms reaching, bodies scraping against rock and one another until they barreled through a hole, like rag dolls, onto the dirt of the final chamber.

Torches danced on walls that were cracking and sliding as if made of dough. Their shifting flames flickered over a stack of gold coins and trinkets that filled the top of the fourth alcove and spread out to a circular wall of rock that kept the treasure at bay. If the treasure indeed filled the alcove all the way to the ground as Dodd had claimed, then it was enough gold to own the world—if one wanted such a thing. Which Captain Ricu apparently did as he clung to a boulder to keep his balance, while four pirates, along with Dodd, removed the final layer of rocks that kept the gold out of reach. Beside them lay a pile of empty burlap sacks. Shouts of glee drew James’s gaze to Patrick, who, down on all fours, bracing against the quake, looked like a hunting dog about to be released from his leash. None of them noticed James and his friends.

Assisting Angeline to her feet, James started for Ricu. He had no idea what he would do, but he must stop him or anyone else from speaking the Latin phrase. Even though all of them seemed more interested in the gold at the moment. But he couldn’t take that chance, not when the phrase was clearly seen etched in stone above the alcove. Etched in more than stone, from what James could tell. The phrase above this final tomb was ingrained with gold that now glittered in the torchlight, making it all the more visible. And desirable. Even if the pirates hauled off all the treasure, their greed would drive them to scrape every ounce from the wall as well.

The ground tilted, and James slipped. Captain Ricu turned. His eyes narrowed, and his shout brought the tips of several cutlasses oscillating before James and his friends. James retreated to stand beside Angeline.

Another jolt struck, and Ricu leaned against a boulder for support. Sweat and fright made the mighty pirate captain shrivel before their eyes. Still, his voice rang through the chamber like a gong. “Leave at once!”

The pirates advanced.

Sweat stung James’s eyes. He wiped it with his sleeve as the shaking settled to a gentle sway. Surely the addle-brained pirate could see that the walls of the chamber were about to collapse. Did he put so little value on his own life and so much on the gold that he was willing to risk being buried alive just to possess it? Pain lowered James’s gaze to a sword jabbing his chest. The tip sliced a trail over his skin with each roll of the ground. The rest of the pirates leveled their blades at his friends. Yet they all stood bravely. Even Magnolia, whose trembling lips were the only indication of her fear. Angeline slipped her hand in James’s. They were all going to die. Either by the blade or by the quake.
God, why did You bring us here if we are to fail?

But then he remembered…and he prayed…and he hoped…

“No weapon formed against us shall prosper.” James spoke the words God had given him earlier.

The swords flew from the pirates’ hands. They twirled through the air, round and round, glittering in the torchlight before landing in a heap of
clanks
and
clangs
in the far corner. The pirates stared at them, then back at James, then over to the blades again, fear screaming from their wide eyes.

“Well, I’ll be…” Hayden exclaimed. Blake shouted an “Amen!” Eliza laughed with joy, and James squeezed Angeline’s hand.

“How you do that?” Ricu’s face grew pale beneath a sheen of sweat.

Clanking drew James’s gaze to the broken irons in the empty third alcove. They rose and fell and leapt and plummeted as if they had a life of their own. The stink of rotted flesh and feces swept over him. It burned his throat and lungs and he doubled over, gasping for air. His friends did the same. Even the pirates and Dodd coughed and wheezed—all except Patrick who had risen to his feet and stared at them as if they were all mad.

Wave after wave of heat swamped them. Sweat streamed down James’s back, gluing his shirt to his skin. Skin that felt as though it were being roasted alive. His friends withered beside him. A mighty roar echoed through the chamber. The room lurched as if a giant slammed against the walls. Stalactites fell from the sky, piercing one of the pirates through his chest. He dropped to the ground with a moan. Magnolia screamed. Eliza started toward him, but Blake held her back. It was too late anyway. The man’s vacant eyes stared at the ceiling. The floor tilted left then right, tossing them back and forth like a seesaw. The boulder beside Ricu rolled on its side. He backed away, eyes bulging.

Dodd stumbled toward Blake. “Don’t you see the gold?” he shouted, pointing toward the alcove. “I told you it was here!”

Ignoring the buffoon, James watched as Patrick and one of the pirates struggled to remove a loose rock in the middle of the wall surrounding the alcove. The ground jolted, aiding their efforts, and the stone slid to the side. Gold coins poured from the opening like water from a faucet. Laughing with glee, Patrick grabbed a sack and held it beneath the hole while another pirate scrambled to collect the coins on the ground—both seemingly oblivious to the fact that the cave was about to collapse. In fact, there wasn’t a drop of sweat on Patrick, not on his skin nor dampening his clothes.

The ground stopped shaking. The rest of the pirates darted to the wall and yanked and pulled until another stone loosened, creating a bigger hole through which goblets and jewelry poured along with coins. Ricu smiled and ordered them to fill the sacks as fast as they could.

James started toward them, his plan to keep them focused on the gold and not the Latin phrase, but the earth jolted once more and sent him careening backward. Dirt began swirling in eddies across the ground. Whirling and spinning and rising until columns of dust cycloned all around them. The pirates ceased gathering gold. Everyone backed away as the shapes coiled in a mass of mud and rock, rising higher and higher until each one slowly coalesced into a human form. James’s parents, the women who had caused his downfall, the soldiers he’d lost on the operating table. And many other people he’d never seen before, but from the looks on his friends’ faces, they were people they each recognized. People who now began to berate them with insults and taunts and accusations. James ignored them, as did his friends. They knew how to deal with these lies. But Ricu, the pirates, and Dodd saw them as well, for they stared at them in horror, while Patrick continued gathering gold into sacks.

The broken irons in the third alcove clanked and rattled as if enraged. The swords in the corner leapt in the air. They turned and pointed at James and his friends, each tip aimed at their hearts. Blake leapt in front of Eliza, but she eased out to stand beside him and took his hand. Hayden and James exchanged a nervous glance. Magnolia’s chest panted like a bellows.

Captain Ricu crossed himself. Dodd jumped behind a boulder, and the pirates crouched to the ground.

James swallowed. There was no place to hide. No place to run. His gaze locked on Angeline, who stood bravely by his side. She smiled. The blades shot through the air. Angeline closed her eyes. Magnolia shrieked.
Swoosh!
Air wafted against James’s arm. A dozen clanks sounded behind him. No screams. No pain. He glanced at his friends. They examined themselves for wounds, but no blood appeared. Either the swords had missed or, miraculously, had gone through them without any damage. James couldn’t help the chuckle that spilled from his lips. God was, indeed, with them. And by the looks of confidence on his friends’ faces, they now believed the same.

The visions collapsed into piles of dirt on the ground.

“Meu Deus! Deus salve nos!”
Ricu gazed up toward heaven in an appeal to a God James was sure he rarely addressed. “Hurry, take gold. We leave!” he ordered his men. Then withdrawing a handkerchief from his vest, he turned and watched the third alcove chains continue to dance, shaking his head in disbelief.

The poor man. If James didn’t believe in the power of God, he’d assume he was fast becoming a madman at what he’d seen today.

The ground swayed. The heat and fetor rose. Halting his greedy harvest, Patrick grabbed one of the pirate’s pistols, cocked it, and leveled it at Ricu’s back.

“Captain Ricu, behind you!” Magnolia shouted. James shifted curious eyes her way. But, no doubt, she favored the flamboyant pirate over her ex-fiancé.

Ricu wheeled about, bells clanging and trinkets sparkling. “What be this?” He stared agape at the pistol then snapped his fingers toward his men. “Kill this man.”

But the pirates only chortled and continued shoving gold into their sacks.

Patrick grinned. “I do apologize, Captain, but I’m afraid this
be
a mutiny.”

Magnolia gasped. Angeline grew tense beside James.

“We not on ship, idiota. Cannot be mutiny.”

“Well, perhaps a prelude to a mutiny, then.” Patrick called one of the pirates to his side. “Relieve your captain of his weapons, and tie him up, if you please, Eduardo.” He glanced around the chamber. “These crumbling walls give me an idea. We were simply going to kill you, dear Captain, but I believe I’ll let the chamber do it for me.”

James exchanged a glance with Blake that said he agreed they should stay out of it. They were here only to keep the fourth beast from being freed. Nothing more.

“What?” Captain Ricu’s eyes sparked fire. “Branco, Faro!” he called to his men and spat a string of angry Portuguese.

“Sorry, Capitão.” One of the men shrugged. “He offer larger cut of gold. How could we say no?”

Ricu growled, his eyes burning embers. “I am Captain Ricu, and I take what I—”

“Want when you want.” Patrick waved the pistol in the air. “Yes, yes, we know, Captain, but I fear your reign of narcissism has come to an end.”

“Traidor desleal, patife!!”
Sweat streamed down Ricu’s face. Plucking another handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his forehead and neck as further Portuguese curses flew from his mouth. Finally he settled. His face grew tight. His hand inched toward the pistol stuffed in his belt.