Paxton and the Gypsy Blade (42 page)

“Me?” Sir Theodotus turned, shielded his eyes against the heat, and stared with stunned disbelief at the burning island. “I don't know,” he stammered. “Your father—”

“—Wants you to come, too,” Adriana said, taking his hand and leading him to the water. “Trust me. He does.”

“Hurry, Pa-paw Theo. Get wet!”

Twenty yards away, the boat slid into the water and floated free. “We'll have to swim 'er out,” Maurice yelled against the stiffening wind. “Get the others.”

“But I can't swim,” Sanchez protested.

“Then man the tiller, and have the sail ready when we're far enough out to use it.”

Sanchez leaped into the boat, found two coiled lines forward, tied them to cleats, and threw them to Maurice and Topaz. Tom raced along the water's edge. “We're ready. Hurry!” he shouted. He tucked a boy under each arm and ran back up the beach. “You too, Vincent. Run, damn it!”

“Run, run, Pa-paw Theo!” Joseph shrieked.

A tree at the end of the path exploded. Another on the west side of the cove turned into a ball of flame and fell sizzling into the cove. Sir Theodotus trotted after the others, finally catching up at the boat. “Will it hold us all?” he asked as Tom handed the twins to Sanchez.

“It had better,” Tom grunted. He picked up Adriana, set her over the gunwale, then gave Sir Theodotus a boost. “The wind is too strong to use the sail in here,” he explained to Adriana and Sir Theodotus, “so we're going to swim her out. You'll have to bail. Stay low out of the heat and wind and listen to Sanchez.”

Topaz and Maurice stood waist-deep in water fifty feet ahead of the boat. Tom pulled off his belt and boots, threw them aboard. “You're the middle man,” Sanchez shouted, throwing him a third line he'd just tied and then jumping overboard. “I'll push from behind until it gets too deep.”

“Look!” Topaz shouted, his voice barely audible over the combined roar of fire and wind.

“What?” Sanchez yelled back.

Topaz pointed. “Up there.”

Adriana followed his gaze to the edge of the cliff. There, on a boulder next to the waterfall, trapped between a wall of flames and the rocks fifty feet below him, Trevor Bliss gestured in vain for assistance.

“There's no way we can help,” Tom shouted to Bliss. “Swim!”

Tom, Maurice, and Topaz pulled on the lines until the water was too deep for walking, then began the long hard swim. Sanchez climbed back on board.

Do you see, Giuseppe? Do you see? He will die more horribly than you. The earth itself will avenge you. Earth and fire
… “Watch out!” she screamed, pushing the boys down behind the gunwale and pointing toward the cliff.

Sanchez glanced up in time to see a tiny blossom of smoke momentarily obscure Bliss. A moment later, he felt a small thud as a ball smacked into the side of the boat. “Keep down,” he yelled to Adriana. “We'll be out of range before he can do any damage.”

Adriana ducked but, fascinated, peeked over the gunwale and watched as Bliss, illuminated clearly by the fires surrounding him, reloaded, aimed, and fired again. “Duck!” she yelled, and dropped out of sight.

The boat seemed to sink deeper in the water. Adriana looked up and saw Sanchez fling one arm over the transom. “I think,” he said, his eyes wide with surprise, “he's gone and killed me.” He reached up with his free hand, pulled off his hat, and glanced once, longingly, at the water-soaked, bedraggled crimson feather. “This is yours,” he said to Adriana, his voice weakening. “Keep the tiller straight.”

Only when he slipped from the boat and floated free in the water did Adriana see the great gaping wound in his back, and the blood that spilled from it and stained the water the color of the feather.

The wind was growing stronger and kicking up waves against which Tom, Maurice, and Topaz had to swim. Adriana was helpless. None of the men could hear her calls, nor could they have done anything if they had. Powerless, she watched as Bliss stood to reload; then she ducked when he fired again. She watched in horror as the ground heaved and the waterfall dissolved into steam and was replaced by molten lava, and watched, too, as Bliss lost his balance, threw his arms in the air, and slipped off the boulder to land feet first in the steaming lava. Bursting into flame, he was carried over the cliff. A second later, the bright spot of flame that had been the murderer of Giuseppe hit the water and winked out, quenched like the last vestige of Adriana's hatred and desire for revenge.

A second river of lava followed the path Adriana and the others had taken and hit the water with an explosion of steam. A hundred yards from shore, the swimmers felt the temperature of the water rise, stopped to look around, and only then discovered that Sanchez was missing. “Can we tack out of here?” Tom asked.

“Believe so,” Topaz said. “Have to try. You stay here, be anchor to keep us from drifting in while I rig sail. Don't let go the ropes.” His pointed teeth showed in a wide grin. “Otherwise, you boil like in kettle.”

The wait seemed interminable. Swimming steadily but making little headway, Tom and Maurice held the tiny boat offshore until, at last, Topaz sailed past them on a tack that would take them almost due west, and they clambered aboard and lay exhausted in the bilge.

Behind them, smoke and ash settled to meet the rising steam from the ring of boiling water that surrounded the island. And all they could see was a dense cloud glowing red from within as the entire island burned …

And burned …

And burned.

EPILOGUE

The
Red Dog Song
angled up and through a cresting wave, balanced precariously on the top, and plunged down the long smooth slope on the far side. Her bow digging into the deep green of the Atlantic, she shuddered briefly, and began again to climb. On deck, half the crew settled in for its watch while the other half made its way below for a few hours' sleep.

Two days had passed since the disastrous eruption of The Sleeping Giant and the destruction of San Sebastian. Already at sea when the volcano blew, Slurry had circumnavigated the island and begun a frantic search for his friends. At first light, when he finally spotted the tiny overladen craft, he actually wept with relief. Exhausted and fearful of being taken by relief ships that would surely come to investigate the source of the enormous cloud that drifted downwind, they had lingered only to pick up two more boat loads of survivors and, luckily, a cow that had stayed alive long enough to be brought aboard and slaughtered. Their decision to leave the area immediately saved their lives. Less than an hour after the island fell below the horizon, the volcano erupted for one final time and San Sebastian disappeared from the face of the earth. All that remained was a towering cloud of gray-black ash and smoke. Even the dark cloud, driven west by the Atlantic trades, was soon lost to sight.

There was enough food for three weeks; the water casks were full. The sails were black with grime, but most of the clothes aboard had been washed in seawater and the deck had been sluiced down. The work had been arduous, doubly so because of the shock and exhaustion everyone had suffered, and the deck quieted quickly as the ship settled in for the long reach northwest to the South Carolina coast.

Adriana was tucking the twins in for the night when Tom emerged onto the deck and found Sir Theodotus sitting on a keg and gazing blankly out to sea. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Sir Theodotus blinked as if awakening. “What? Oh, yes.” He stared at his hands, tried to smooth his torn coat. “I suppose.”

“Not much left, I imagine,” Tom said with a nod in the direction of San Sebastian.

“I imagine not.”

Nervous, Tom rubbed his hands together and tried to think of something to say. “You understand why we can't drop you off sooner. I'll arrange passage to wherever you want to go once we arrive in Charleston, of course.”

Worn and pale, Sir Theodotus remained silent.

“We need to talk, you know,” Tom finally said.

“Why?” Sir Theodotus asked wearily. “You have your sons.”

“Your grandsons, too,” Tom replied. “They don't understand what happened. Only that you love them and want to be with them. There has been a war between us. Can't we have peace?”

Sir Theodotus bowed his head. He had kidnapped the twins, and in return Paxton had saved his life and was offering the olive branch of peace. “I shouldn't imagine that would be easy,” he said at last.

Tom stiffened. His gesture of conciliation had been genuine, but if the old man couldn't put aside the past and start anew, so be it. “It's up to you,” he said curtly, and walked away.

“Tom Paxton!”

And stopped. “Yes.”

“Did you love her?” Sir Theodotus asked in a voice that cracked with anguish. “Did you love my Jenny?”

His Jenny. My Jenny. Our Jenny
.

“Yes,” Tom answered simply. “I loved her very much.”

“They're a lot like her, aren't they?”

“Yes, sir, they are.”

“Well!” Sir Theodotus drew a deep breath. The ocean air was fresh and sweet, even exhilarating. “I'll look in on them and then turn in myself, I think. We've a long trip ahead of us.”

“Yes, sir.” Tom turned to face his father-in-law, and for the first time exchanged with him a smile of friendship. “Good night, sir. And sleep well.”

“I will, son. For the first time in a long time, I think I will.”

Tom watched Sir Theodotus walk away and disappear below decks, then ambled aft.

“What was that all about?” Maurice asked.

“Making friends.”

“Been a lot easier if you'd done that five years ago. Sure as hell would've saved a lot of trouble.”

Tom grinned. “Sure as hell would've,” he agreed, “but think of all the fun you'd've missed.” He scanned the ship with a practiced eye, took special note of the compass. “Any problems?”

“Nope. Headin' straight as an arrow for home. Won't make it by Christmas, but should be there by New Year's.”

“That's close e—” Tom stopped, watched as a figure emerged from below and walked forward to the bow. “Keep an eye on things, huh?” he said, starting forward himself. “I'll, ah, be back in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Maurice rumbled to no one in particular. “Take your time, old friend. You've got plenty of it.”

The pitch of deck, the mist of salt spray, the mystery of the sea, and the dark miles that slipped past as slowly as time itself. The sound of a footstep, the turn of a head, the silence of two hands touching, of a kiss.

“The boys?” Tom asked.

“Half-asleep.”

“Sir T.?”

“He is, too, I think. In a chair by the bunk.”

“And you?”

Adriana nestled against him. “Here,” she said. “With you.”

“Sounds like a good place to me. Tell you what,” he said with exaggerated seriousness. “How'd you like me to read your palm?”

“You know how?”

“Yup. Best teacher in the world.” He took her hand and, bowing, kissed each fingertip, the base of her thumb, and then nibbled at the soft center of her palm, her heart line.

Streams of auburn hair tickled his cheek when he lifted his head. Adriana's eyes were pools of invitation aglow with amusement and desire. “I'm waiting,” she said, gently teasing him. “My future?”

Tom's hands went to his neck and he ducked his head. A moment later, he slipped the thin gold chain over Adriana's head, opened the top of her blouse, and carefully laid the still-warm amulet in the cleft between her breasts.

“Our future,” he said. “Ours.”

And as Adriana came into his arms, she knew the future would be theirs together. Always together, to live for love.

Turn the page to continue reading from the Paxton Saga

Chapter 1

Colleen Cassandra McClagan had heard the melody before, yet something had changed. The song was stronger, clearer, louder. It sounded so close, so insistent, that she could almost make out a message. There were words to the song—a poem, a promise, a melody born of the breeze, a windsong that played upon her lips, caressed her ear, and excited her heart. Its source seemed to be the sea, that vast expanse of royal blue that glistened under the brilliant mid-morning sun.

Colleen stood atop the hill, breathed in the magnificence of the landscape that stretched before her—the sweep of white below, the clusters of budding bushes and infant grass—extended her arms to the cloudless sky, closed her eyes, and silently gave thanks for the gift of her life, the miracle of the moment. When she opened her eyes, she suddenly felt foolish for whiling away her time among violets and chirping bluebirds, foolish for ignoring the danger that surrounded her, for forgetting the hour, the obligations, the harsh reality and grave responsibilities she faced as a daughter and a citizen … and yet …