Children of the Fountain (15 page)

Harry grabbed Matthias and they made their way to the doors at the other end, although with each step Matthias fought harder and harder to go the other way.

“He’s getting away!”

Harry shook his head, “No, Mr Cook will catch him.” They reached the door leading out to the back of the stables near the kitchens and rushed out straight into someone.

“What’s happening?” It was Alonso; his enormous arms stretched either side of him to prevent the children from passing.

Sophie, Harry and Matthias all started to drown him with information at once. He looked at them sternly after picking through the pieces. “Where are they now?”

“Mr Cook followed them out of the castle gates,” replied Sophie.

“We haven’t much time, come Matthias,” said the mystic.

“What?” said Sophie.

“You two return to Mr Hardy and deliver your message. Matthias, we can take horses and cut off Nunez.”

Sophie looked to Harry for support, her eyes wide. “You’re taking Matthias?”

The Spanish mystic looked down at Sophie. “It is his destiny. I have seen it.”

The mystic whipped the horses into a gallop sending them both back into the seat. After a few minutes silence Alonso turned to regard Matthias and once more the boy felt his very soul being examined.

“What unfolded back at the castle was unfortunate,” shouted Alonso, above the noise. Since the mystic had rushed him onto a carriage before speeding out of the castle gates Matthias had hardly had time to think about what had happened. ‘
Unfortunate
’ was an understatement. They had seen Mr Cook and his men disappear into the distance on horseback, chasing Balthazar and his men who had taken steeds from the stables.

“The two boys,” Alonso continued, “they should never have been in the stables. From what I can tell your plan was sound and you may have succeeded. It would have been quite right for your first kill to be Balthazar Nunez. After all, he murdered your sister.”

“You see killing and murdering as two different things,” said Matthias, shielding his eyes against the wind.

“Of course,” said the mystic, “Why else would there be two words in your language?”

He let the thought roll around his head. Was there a distinction? The carriage leapt up to the left as the wheels kicked off a large tree root at the side of the track. The castle was shrinking into the distance now.

“To kill a man may be necessary; to defend yourself or a loved one perhaps? In the midst of a battle or for revenge...Murder is something quite different.”

“How can we find him?” asked Matthias.

The mystic tapped his head. “I know where this man goes. I see his path.”

“Am I to kill him?”

“You cannot deny your destiny, Matthias. This man must die by your hands. I spared his life when I captured him. I knew he was meant for you.
This
I have seen.”

Ahead of them the trees loomed over the road stretching out and creating a canopy. Within seconds they were engulfed in a dark green light. Matthias looked ahead, his eyes searching for signs of Mr Cook or Nunez. There was none and the road looked undisturbed. In the hot summer heat the surface was dry and hard so it would be difficult to spot tracks.

He turned back to Alonso. “You, I mean your people, see things don’t they?”

Alonso smiled and turned his attention back to the murky road ahead, “Yes.”

They started to ride alongside a stream. Its waters trickled busily away behind them, the light bouncing off the tops of the ripples like crystal.

“We see what may come to pass. It is never complete and often more like looking into a deep fog. But sometimes you see pictures. Hear voices. Or feel an emotion.”

Matthias nodded, “Like when you remember something? Except in reverse?”

Alonso smiled and gave a chuckle. “Yes, that is exactly it. In all my years I have never heard it described so but Matthias I think you have, as you English say,
hit the nail on the head
.”

“But what do you see of me? What do you hear? What do you feel?”

Alonso slowed the horses down to a trot. They were breathless but still had plenty to give. He had to pull them in hard to keep their eager legs from mounting a surge.

As they slackened the wind hushed and the carriage wheels slipped into a slow trundle which bounced around the branches of the trees. Alonso turned to Matthias and said, “I see a great destiny. I see blood. I hear your laughter. I hear your screams. “

Matthias sat back and steadied his gaze on the road. “How does it make you feel?” he whispered, in truth not really wishing to know the answer.

“Frightened,” said Alonso.

They had continued for about thirty minutes when up ahead they saw a figure lying in the road. Alonso spoke softly to the horses as he slowed them down and the creatures came to a standstill a little way from the body.

“Stay here,” said Alonso. He lowered himself off the carriage and gently stepped down. Around them was tall grass and on the right side a lonely oak created a shadow over the road.

The Spaniard took out a long knife and cautiously made his way forward to what looked like one of Mr Cook’s men. Arriving at the body he bent down and touched the man’s neck, his own knife still in his hand.

“His throat has been slit.”

“From behind?” said Matthias, remembering how this could be told from a physiology lesson.

“Yes, it means they were ambushed, this was no swordfight.” The mystic continued past the body looking all the time downwards. About ten yards further he bent down and touched some dust before looking across at the oak tree.

He beckoned Matthias to join him and the boy leapt down, but made sure his landing was soft. As he approached, he was aware of every whisper from the breeze snaking through the long grass and every groan from the branches above.

Alonso looked at him, but his eye seemed to be focused behind the carriage. “We are not alone; stay with me. When they make their move stand fast, but do not attack unless they do so first. Do you understand?”

Matthias nodded. “Mr Cook?”

“I do not know,” said the mystic, getting up. “There was a struggle here in the road and at least one body was dragged off behind that oak. No doubt they have seen me checking the tracks. It won’t be long now.”

He followed Alonso back to the carriage, each step seeming to last longer. When they reached it Alonso gave him a hand up but didn’t step up himself. Matthias watched as the mystic started to adjust some of the straps on one of the horses.

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning over the side.

“The bushes over my right shoulder, can you see them?”

“Yes.”

“Is there still a man lying in the grass?”

Matthias felt his chest pulsate and looked. “No, I-wait!”

He could see a man beneath the thicket, lying down in the long grass, about twenty yards away. He didn’t let his eyes dwell for fear of giving away his advantage. Looking back at Alonso, he hid his fear with a nonchalant shrug. “Yes, I see him.”

“Good. There is another behind the carriage making his way closer. I fear they do not intend to take prisoners. Are you ready?”

“What do I do?”

“Underneath the seat is a loaded pistol. Shoot the man behind me and I will make my way to the back of the carriage to greet our friend.” The mystic ducked between the horses to get around the back of the carriage.

“Wait,” hissed Matthias, his eyes kept looking around for movement. “I’m a terrible shot!”

Alonso looked down at his belt, pulled out his knife and started back the other way. “Now would be a very good time to correct this.”

Matthias looked down at his feet and could just make out the hilt of a sabre and next to it the handle of a pistol; the flint sticking out from under the seat. It wasn’t cocked, so he’d have to do this before aiming. Under normal circumstances, on a calm day stood in front of a target, he struggled with a pistol; this wasn’t even close.

When he looked back to Alonso the mystic was gone. He had only seconds to act; any time now Alonso would be at the back of the carriage taking on the other man. He looked up again, judged the distance, picked a spot in the grass to focus on and then reached for the gun.

His hands shook for a second as he pulled it out from underneath the seat. The stock felt warm and soft in his hand. He cocked it, still hidden from view, before taking a deep breath and raising it at the figure in the grass. As he did so the leaves shuffled and he saw the head raise, a dark silhouette against the green and yellow blades. Then he fired.

The figure’s head rocked back unnaturally and fell.

For a second he stared at the grass, the pistol still held out in front of him a thin wisp of smoke circling out of the barrel. Then his senses returned. The smell of the gunpowder, the brightness of the sky and the scream of a man behind the carriage.

He leapt to the back of the roof and looked over only to see Alonso pulling his blade from the neck of one of the men from the stable. The mystic discarded the body with a shrug before putting his finger to his lips and edging around the side of the carriage.

He followed him from above and then saw what the Spaniard had seen. Nunez was standing in the middle of the road, alone. “Excellent, Matthias. Bravo. I can assure you the second one is much easier,” he said.

Matthias grabbed the sabre from under the seat and leapt down onto the dirt. He was ten yards away, the shade of the branches etched across his features. The sun was low, arresting his silhouette from behind.

He inhaled rapidly, his face staring intently at Nunez. Then, just as he lurched forward, his shoulders reeling, an arm grabbed him and pulled him back with such force his feet momentarily left the ground. He spun around snarling, but it was Alonso.

“Wait,” said the mystic.

Matthias’s teeth were bared under his lip and he snorted.

“Quite right,” said Nunez. “As I’m sure Alonso suspects I do have another card to play.”

From beneath his cloak Nunez produced two pistols. Both barrels faced at Matthias. Less than ten yards away it was unlikely Nunez would miss even if he could rush him.

“How did it feel to kill your first man?”

“Not as good as it’s going to feel killing you, Nunez. I will avenge Rebecca…and all the others.”

“She was an abomination,” hissed Nunez, “as are
you
. I don’t know what you’ve been told Matthias, but their blood is not on my hands.”

“How so? You were the one who butchered them like animals.”

Nunez gestured toward Matthias with one of the pistols. The man’s scraggly black hair was blown back from his face by the breeze and he looked at Matthias with revulsion.

“What you are is an insult to everything we fight for. What was done was done to be certain, no more. Sadly, it looked like you slipped through my fingers. But today young
child of the fountain
you will die.”

Matthias didn’t understand these last words but knew from the man’s body that he intended to shoot. So be it, he thought. If he shoots and hits me, at least Alonso will kill him.

It was almost as if the mystic read his mind for no sooner had Matthias thought this than Alonso was stood beside him, holding his long and bloody knife.

“No Nunez,” said Matthias. “Today you will die and then the rest of the Legion when Alonso finds them.

Nunez cackled and shook his head. “The Legion are not a force of evil, we are a force for good; cleansing the earth.”

He felt his left hand go down to the pouch at the back of his belt. Felt his fingers touch the soft paper inside. Felt the flash bomb in his palm.

“Don’t be afraid to die, Matthias.”

He looked Nunez dead in the face. “I’m not afraid to die. You already took my world from me when you killed my sister.”

Nunez scoffed, the pistols dipped slightly toward the floor and he opened his mouth to speak, but then a noise made him stop. It was the unmistakeable sound of a rifle cocking.

Nunez didn’t move; his eyes rolled wildly around in his sockets as he desperately sought the source of the noise. But he couldn’t see behind him, where Alexander stood, a rifle held tight under his chin.

“Alexander?” said Matthias, “What are you doing here?”

The older boy spoke, but never took his eyes off Nunez. “I saw you leave the castle in a hurry Matthias and thought you might need some help.” There were tears in his eyes but he managed a weak smile. Was he scared?

Alonso stepped toward Nunez, “Drop your pistols.”

Nunez stood, still as a statue. “I could still kill you Matthias. Tell your friend to drop his gun.”

“If you kill that boy I swear I will murder every last Nunez on the face of this earth!” screamed Alexander.

“That boy?” A pause, Nunez searched for air. “Michael?”

The young lad pulled back his shoulders. “It’s Alexander now. Michael’s still in here though, somewhere.”

Alonso straightened, Matthias turned to look at him but even the Spaniard had not seen this.

“When you killed Margaret,” said Alexander, “it took every ounce of my strength not to come looking for you. It was my father who persuaded me to wait. You were too strong back then, the Legion’s forces were everywhere. So I went back to the fountain.”

Alexander calmly paced around to the side of Nunez; the rifle was now inches from the man’s temple. “I came back, of course, to protect Matthias and Rebecca. But you killed her too.”

Nunez was still staring; he wavered ever so slightly on the spot. Then, he jolted, and remembering he had the pistols brought them up, still trained on Matthias.

“When Alonso caught you I was promised justice. But then you escaped. I followed and watched you ambush William who, by the way, is safely tied to a tree behind me. Alonso, would you be so good as to release him?”

The mystic nodded and disappeared into the grass. Making his way toward the oak he was soon lost from view.

Matthias looked at Alexander, the awkward shy boy from the castle. Gone were the innocent, bright eyes. The soft lips were turned into a snarl and he could see, though somehow he’d never noticed, that every muscle and tendon was toned and strong like a wolf. So this is what had happened to Michael Cortés; he’d been hiding in plain sight all along.