A Raucous Time (The Celtic Cousins' Adventures) (28 page)

‘Don’t tell me. You’re going to lower me down and I’m going to crawl through that tunnel.’

With only a hint of sarcasm Crombie said ‘Face it son, I’m just not built for pot holing.’ Then in a gentler tone: ‘If I could do this for you, I would.’

His pity scalded Rhyllann into action. Ducking his head and arms through the noose he sat at the cliff edge emulating Crombie’s distain for heights.

Twisting round so his chest butted against the cliffs, he gave a sharp nod. Crombie took up the slack and with a push Rhyllann dangled mid air trying not to think about sharks. And if they could jump. His mind chided him: Stop wimping, this isn’t so bad, you’ve flown much higher – miles higher. The worse part is over. The bit before you jump is always the scariest he told himself. And now he was committed, feet scrabbling for foot holds, Crombie’s bulk above him and a good solid rope around him; digging into his flesh, almost dislocating his shoulders, any moment now he would slip out the noose and his sweaty hands wouldn’t be able to hold the rope and he would fall and he wouldn’t be killed outright and Crombie couldn’t scramble down cliffs because he wasn’t built for it. Hours of agonising pain surging through his broken body racked on jagged rocks while sea creatures nibbled on his limbs probably going for his eyes first stretched before him until Crombie fetched help just too late. The rope jerked, sliding up a couple of notches and he whimpered again.

‘Just there son – just to your right – see it? Come on Rhyllann – you’re on top of it!’ He’d been so wrong about Crombie. He had no compassion at all. Squirming so the noose cradled his lower back, Rhyllann hauled his legs up until his knees were waist level, then bunny hopped, clutching at the ridged outcrop guarding the crevice. Heaving himself face first to flop into the tunnel’s opening he struggled to free the rope. Crombie’s knot refused to give, there wasn’t enough room to spread his arms upright. If it hadn’t been for voices echoing up to him, he would have given up. Instead new hope spurred him on. Pushing back to balance on the cave’s rim, Rhyllann shrugged off the rope, then waved at Crombie before diving back in and wriggling along the sloping tunnel.

Two blond heads glistened in the artificial light. Wren rested against a boulder in the middle of the cave, his chin slumped against his chest. Hewes held a pistol to his forehead. Rhyllann counted three men examining the walls and floor of the cave with their fingertips, before his eyes were drawn back to Wren. And the boulder. Involuntary, a long low whistle escaped him. Wren’s head came up, cobalt blue eyes stared directly upwards, and a dorky smile lit up his face.

‘What’ve you got to smile about you little runt!’

Rhyllann flinched as the pistol slammed against Wren’s temple – almost calling out in anger.

Ignoring her Wren spoke clearly. ‘Would you please tell WPC Hewes to stop knocking me around the head. How do you expect me to think?’

Crombie had miscounted; from the shadows a fifth figure emerged, easing Hewes to one side. Rhyllann’s breath caught in his throat; the rugby player spoke.

‘Christ sakes. He isn’t going to run anywhere. Not with that foot!’ To Wren he said. ‘What is it? What have you seen?’

Wren pointed to the far side, opposite the steps. ‘That wall there – I don’t know – does it seem different to you? Smoother – less natural?’

The man patted Wren’s head. ‘Good work. Good. Good boy.’

He walked over to investigate calling to the others as he went. Wren gave them a moment or two, before standing up to stretch. Covering a yawn with one hand he splayed the other wriggling all five digits. Rhyllann managed an awkward upside down thumbs up sign, then began wriggling backwards as fast as he could. Emerging from the tunnel he clambered back in to the noose and without waiting for Crombie to haul, squirreled up the rope.

‘He saw me! Five minutes. Give him five minutes. He’s gonna create a diversion. And Crombie… get a load of this…’ Rhyllann hesitated biting at his lip. ‘Crombie … you’re really not going to believe this.’ As he spoke Crombie’s face drained of colour, he seemed frozen to the spot.

‘What? Impossible!’ He snarled as the full betrayal sank in. ‘I will personally rip stripes from uniforms. I will press for maximum charges. I will …’ Rhyllann yanked him forward mid threat herding him back to the anchoress cell. He didn’t know what Wren planned, but knew they had to be in position. As they descended the steps voices raised and echoed. It seemed Wren’s diversion was well under way.

A man shouted furiously: ‘We had a deal! You warned him! You even spoke to him! Now you play ball!’

‘I won’t. You filthy murderer. You murdered those innocents on that train, and you murdered your own father.’ Wren’s voice sounded crystal clear and emotionless, emphasising the enormity of the words.

‘Shut up. Ignore him Mikey.’ That sounded like Hewes.

‘Coward. Yellow belly coward. Old men and bombs. Very noble.’

‘Shut up! If anyone’s responsible for my father’s death it's you; you little runt! God he used to make me sick. Wren this, Wren that. He thought the sun shone out of your arse and you set him up!’

Wren screamed out with pain.

‘Leave him alone Stern!’

Rhyllann coiled, ready to make a dash across the main cavern. Crombie held him back. ‘Wait. Wait for the fighting to start.’ He hissed.

‘Ladygate prison. Maximum security. Queen Charlotte Hospital. Geriatric ward. Oh and where d’you suppose the charming Rhyllann will end up? Some young offenders’ home? Never mind. I’ll find him. After I’ve dealt with you.’ Hewes purred. ‘And we’ll find the treasure. If we have to blast the entire place to kingdom come.’

Someone sniggered. ‘She’s right. Let’s go get the rest of the explosives … leave him down here.’ Shaking off Crombie’s grip, Rhyllann coiled again, ready to spring out and use teeth if necessary.

Wren stopped him. ‘Stay where you are. Don’t move. I’ll show you. It’s been staring you in the face all this time, but you’re too blind to see.’

As Wren spoke a low rumble filled Rhyllann’s ears. It seemed to come from the ground itself and go on forever. Feeling Crombie nudge him forward, crouching low, hugging the wall he crept into the cavern. Just in time to see stone walls rolling away on well balanced mechanisms.

Aladdin’s cave. It was an Aladdin’s cave. Rhyllann stared open mouthed at the contents inside the secret chamber. Huge metal trunks reinforced with thick bands covered the floor, stacked with plates of gold, jewel encrusted crucifixes, triplexes showing icons, their frames studded with precious stones. More plates hung from the wall, smaller gold coloured chests were heaped in one corner. Treasure piled upon treasure, gleaming under the artificial lights. Rhyllann’s eyes dropped back to the hefty load bearing trunks. Large enough to hold a baby elephant, and there his imagination stopped. Without warning Crombie grabbed him, throwing him behind an outcrop of rocks, squeezing his bulk in after. No one noticed them. The cavern echoed with ooohs and ahhhs.

Wren watched with detachment, he hadn’t moved from his spot. He rested a hand lightly against a sword buried halfway inside the boulder. The sword: Caliburn. Rhyllann’s eyes were drawn to it once more. The secret room threw out a golden glow. Caliburn swallowed light. Glinting dully with an eerie iridescent blue sheen which crackled; shimmering around the hilt to run up and down the blade before disappearing into the boulder. Wren’s profile seemed outlined in monochrome. His blond hair turned platinum. He turned to stare in Rhyllann’s direction with eyes of cold metallic steel.

Then the trance broke, Hewes sprinted towards the room followed by the men, laughing and whooping, their voices echoing back. Wren watched with a smile. With his hand against the sword’s hilt, he levered it upwards, from a forty-five degree angle to its original upright position. The ground beneath Rhyllann rumbled again as stone walls pivoted on mighty hinges to swing closed. Angry shouts reverberated and calls of

‘The walls – hold them back! Quick!’

Hewes managed to dodge out – Stern almost made it. He screamed out in pain and terror as the walls continued to trundle shut. In a flurry of movement Hewes caught him under the arms – suddenly the rugby player was there helping. There hadn’t been space for him to crowd into the hidden room. He yelled at the two still inside to shove and with an awkward back roll Stern was free. The walls finally thundered shut with a thud that shook the cavern.

Crombie was on his feet and would have rushed over to help if Rhyllann hadn’t yanked him back. Brandishing the pistol he rose again to wade into the confusion.

‘Wait!’ Rhyllann cautioned him. ‘Wait for Wren’s signal.’

There was no doubt now who was running this show. The rugby player knelt over Stern’s body, it twitched then lay still. Muffled cries sounded from behind the wall.

‘Christine get help! Get Frank down here! Bring water and the first aid kit.’

Rhyllann thought Stern looked beyond first aid. With a screech Hewes charged at Wren knocking him to the ground.

‘You little runt! What did you do?’ She shook Wren banging his head against the stone floor. The giant rushed over to prise her off.

‘Leave him alone! He’s only a kid!’

‘It was him! He did something – touched something!’ Picking Wren up by the scruff, she clung onto him as her head twisted, searching the cavern. Inches above her Caliburn glimmered.

‘How can she not see it?’ Rhyllann murmured. Crombie nudged him for an explanation.

‘The sword.’

Crombie looked even more perplexed.

‘The sword in the stone.’ Realising he had shouted the words, Rhyllann clasped a hand over his mouth.

‘Caliburn.’ He whispered. ‘You call it Excalibur.’ But its true name and true nature was Celtic.

Hewes was squinting now, peering at Caliburn. Had she finally noticed? Wren, released from her grip, scuttled over to his new best friend. The strange smile on his lips again as Hewes’s head swivelled trying to fix the illusive non-light in place.

‘What the hell are you talking about Christine? What is it?’

‘I dunno Crombie. Some kind of lever – sticking out – screw your eyes up and squint – you can almost see it. It’s all kinda wavy – like smoke…’ As she spoke, her hand reached to grasp Caliburn’s blade.

The electric blue spasms surged into over drive; crackling like hot fat. Lightning exploded through her body shocking her hair into a punk rocker’s. A sonic boom ruptured the cavern and she flew backwards. Her body crashed against the rock formation sheltering Crombie and Rhyllann, causing them to duck; then slid to the ground with a thump.

Rhyllann shook. The air surrounding him ignited and every breath he took seared his lungs. If he breathed through his mouth it coated his throat, breathing through his nose drew the stench of scorched meat so thickly he could taste it. His teeth chattered and every blood cell in his veins tingled as they scurried to and fro, trying to escape through his skin. A harsh rasp rattled beside him, Rhyllann lifted his head slowly, certain some new monster had come for him. It was Crombie, his features fallen into a haggard mask. Sensing frightened eyes on him, he turned and tried to smile.

‘S’okay son, it’s okay. Some kind of freak accident.’ He slurred. Rubbing a hand over his face, he quietened his breathing.

‘Annie. Detective Crombie Sir. You can come out now.’ Wren’s voice sounded; clear and strident as ever. Rhyllann couldn’t face him. Not yet.

‘Come on son. Your cousin needs us.’ Rhyllann shrunk from Crombie's touch. Plunging his hand into first one pocket then another, Crombie shrugged off his jacket to drape round Rhyllann.

Rhyllann watched him stride forward, pistol in one hand, a handful of cable ties in the other, detouring around the rock and the crumpled bundle of rags. A chill swept over him and he wanted to call Crombie back, to warn him not to – not to … his mind panicked, telling him to keep quiet, not to draw attention to himself. Two lamps had fallen over, Crombie picked them up. Wren was propped against the boulder again. Blue strands sizzled through Caliburn, as it faded back to a dull sheen.