The Wrath of the Lizard Lord (6 page)

‘Sounds like you’ve been led on a wild goose chase,’ Piper said.

‘A what?’ Dakkar said.

‘A pointless mission,’ Serge explained. ‘If Cryptos really wanted Bonaparte dead, he would be. They wanted to draw Oginski out, distract him, maybe from a larger plan.’

‘But Oginski had reliable information that Cryptos was going to kill Bonaparte,’ Dakkar said.

‘We heard that rumour too,’ Piper said. ‘Not that we’d have done much about it.’

‘I did wonder why he was so keen to protect such a man as Bonaparte, Dakkar said, stamping his foot. ‘He has caused nothing but misery in Europe. He’s worse than Cryptos himself!’

‘That’s one point of view.’ Serge nodded in agreement. ‘Oginski admires him, though. He’d often point out that even during his short time on Elba, he has established democratic councils and improved the irrigation and drainage systems for the people. Anyway, if Cryptos wants Bonaparte dead, Oginski wants him alive!’

‘It’s true,’ Piper said.

‘Quiet in there,’ hissed Cutter, banging on the side of the carriage. ‘We have company.’

‘Soldiers,’ Piper whispered, staring out of the carriage. ‘On the lookout for smugglers, no doubt.’

‘Stop!’ shouted a gruff voice from outside. The carriage rumbled to a halt. Dakkar’s heart pounded. Piper clicked back the hammer on his pistol. ‘What’s your business, travelling at this time of night?’

‘We have a poor unfortunate who needs a doctor,’ Cutter called back. Dakkar peered out of the window door into the night.

‘If we don’t get him to Lyme, he’ll surely die.’ He could see at least ten soldiers, the colour of their uniforms bleached blue by the moonlight. They blocked the narrow lane, their rifles cocked and trained on Cutter.

Where are the other men who have been running alongside the carriage?
Dakkar thought. There had been at least six of them, but now the big man stood alone.

‘We’ll need to search your carriage,’ said the officer in charge of the soldiers as they inched forward, rifles levelled at Cutter.

‘Sorry, boys,’ Cutter said, raising his hands, ‘but we’re in a hurry and can’t be waiting.’

A shot rang out from the lane and one of the soldiers fell to the ground with a scream. Dakkar threw himself back into the carriage as more gunfire lit up the lane. The soldiers’ rifles roared, sending bullets ripping through the top of the carriage. Then Dakkar heard the grunts and yells of hand-to-hand combat. He looked out again, expecting to see a bloodbath. Instead, he saw Cutter swinging his heavy fist into the officer’s chin. The blow lifted the soldier off the ground and into the hedgerow that lined the lane.

Cutter’s men had crept round the side of the soldiers and leapt from the bushes, taking them by surprise. The guns had gone off in all directions, missing Cutter. Dakkar saw Bolton crack a soldier on the top of the head with his fist, sending the man crumpling to the earth, unconscious. Another of Cutter’s men lifted a soldier above his head and threw him to the ground.

Soon, all the soldiers were strewn across the lane. One held his arm where the first shot had winged him.

‘Tie them up quickly,’ Cutter said, clicking his fingers. ‘We don’t have time to waste.’ He glanced round at Dakkar. ‘Don’t worry, your highness – they’re all alive. If we killed one of them then the place would be crawling with His Majesty’s army. As it is, these boys will probably be too embarrassed to report this little episode.’

Dakkar nodded, sliding back on to his bench. Oginski groaned as the carriage began to rattle along the lane again.

The rest of the journey proved uneventful and Dakkar tried to stay awake, keeping watch over the limp figure on the stretcher at his feet, but exhaustion overwhelmed him. He dozed fitfully, being shaken awake every now and then by the ruts and potholes in the lane that made the carriage jump and lurch. Time seemed disjointed, stopping and starting until Dakkar didn’t have a clue how long they had travelled for.

‘Wake up, boy. We’re here!’ Serge said, poking Dakkar in the arm.

Dakkar forced his heavy eyes open to see the men sliding Oginski’s stretcher out of the carriage.

They stood in a cobbled street that plunged steeply down towards the sea, which hushed and shushed them somewhere behind the claustrophobic press of little houses. The men, led by Cutter, hurried across the street to a two-floor stone cottage. Dakkar could see its occupants were a little more well-to-do than their neighbours by the freshly painted door and the brass knocker.

Cutter ignored the knocker and hammered on the door with his fist. Dakkar glanced around the street, expecting lights to flare in the tiny windows that looked out darkly at them. Cutter thumped at the door again.

A square panel opened in the door and a rifle barrel poked out.

‘Who is it?’ hissed a voice from inside. ‘And what d’you mean, coming here, banging on my door in the middle of the night?’

‘It’s Cutter, Doctor Walbridge,’ the big man replied in a low but urgent voice. ‘I have a patient on the verge of death.’

The barrel vanished back through the panel and Dakkar heard bolts being drawn back. The door opened to reveal a portly gentleman in a long nightshirt and a cap on his round head. Grey frizzes of hair poked wildly from under the nightcap and he glared at them all over a pair of half-moon glasses.

‘Get inside,’ he snapped. ‘You’ll wake the whole town with your bellowing and stamping around.’

They all followed Cutter and the stretcher as they squeezed into the narrow hallway. Ten men and Oginski on the stretcher filled the house and spilled into the tiny living room that adjoined the hall.

‘You men wait here,’ Walbridge said, waving vaguely at the rooms. ‘Take the patient upstairs.’

Dakkar went to follow Walbridge and Cutter but the doctor turned and raised a hand to stop him.

‘Let him come, doctor,’ Cutter said. ‘He brought Oginski to us.’

‘Oginski!’ Walbridge exclaimed, pushing his glasses up his nose and staring over the shoulders of the stretcher bearers. ‘My word. I would never have recognised him. Quickly – get him up to the room on the left.’

They hurried up the cramped stairs and Dakkar stood forgotten as the doctor hurried to get Oginski on to a bed.

‘Breathing shallow but regular,’ Walbridge muttered, pressing an ear to his chest. ‘Heartbeat fast.’

‘He took a rifle ball in the shoulder,’ Dakkar said.

Walbridge paused and stared at Dakkar over his glasses. ‘I can see that, young man,’ the doctor said. ‘I am just assessing whether or not Count Oginski is strong enough for me to remove it.’

Dakkar watched helplessly as the doctor undressed Oginski and examined his wasted body. Finally, Walbridge shook his head.

‘Is he going to be all right?’ Dakkar asked, feeling the blood drain from his face.

‘He is very weak,’ Walbridge asked. ‘He has internal injuries and the wound is infected. There’s nothing for it but to remove the shot from his shoulder.’

‘His life hangs in the balance then?’ Cutter said, with a catch in his throat.

Walbridge nodded. ‘I will do my very best,’ he said, his voice softening. ‘Oginski is an old friend of mine. Now you must leave me to do my work.’

Chapter Nine

The Old Oginski

Dakkar followed Cutter downstairs to await the results of Walbridge’s operation. He felt numb and cold.

They stepped into the tiny living room. A table had been pushed back and men sat on the floor or on the few chairs that stood there. A small fire smouldered in the grate and Piper knelt, trying to add kindling to bring it back to life. Not that a fire was needed; the crush of the men filled the room with warmth. Dakkar sat by the window and listened as they talked about past adventures with Oginski.

‘Do you remember the time we blew that ammunition store in Seville?’ Serge said, grinning. ‘Franciszek nearly went up with it himself. Had to run back for Bolton.’

‘I’d been shot in the ankle,’ Bolton protested, then he gave a sad smile. ‘But, yes, he came back for me.’

‘He wouldn’t have abandoned any of us,’ Cutter said. ‘He pulled me from that sinking ship. We both nearly drowned.’

Dakkar felt jealous that these men shared a past with Oginski, time Dakkar knew nothing about.

‘Different now, though, isn’t it?’ Piper stood up and stared into the fire. ‘Now he’s got his tame little prince.’

Dakkar looked up. The eyes of every man in the room were on him. Eyes full of menace.

‘What do you mean?’ Dakkar said, his voice barely audible.

‘We’d never have let ’im get so close to death,’ Serge muttered, scowling at Dakkar. ‘If you weren’t around, maybe he’d have come back to us.’

‘Oginski left us long before this pipsqueak turned up,’ Cutter said, spitting into the fire. ‘You can’t blame Dakkar. But what days, eh?’

‘I can’t believe Oginski would commit
.
.
. crimes,’ Dakkar said, his voice faltering. The Count Cryptos he’d met killed without a moment’s thought and plotted world domination. ‘Oginski isn’t like that.’

‘More’s the pity,’ Piper muttered, looking darkly at Dakkar. ‘But believe us when we say that there was a time when Franciszek would have taken life and liberty from anyone who stood in his way.’

The night dragged on. The men took it in turns to sleep or to keep watch out of the window.

‘Those military men won’t get back to their barracks until late morning but we’ll keep our eyes peeled,’ Cutter said.

Dakkar dozed, startling to wakefulness whenever someone spoke or moved. Sometimes he stole out to the bottom of the narrow stairs and looked up at the candlelight flickering from under the door of Oginski’s room.

‘It’s a ticklish business,’ Cutter said, ruffling Dakkar’s hair. ‘You can be a better help by being rested and refreshed in the morning.’

Dawn broke, grey and watery, as Dakkar waited. Someone put a plate of bread and cheese in front of him but he barely ate any of it.

Finally, the heavy tread of the doctor brought Dakkar to his feet, sending the chair he sat on clattering to the floor. He ran out to the stairs and looked up at Walbridge’s drawn face. Cutter and the others crowded around him.

‘Well?’ he said, not daring to meet Walbridge’s eyes.

‘Oginski survived the removal of the bullet,’ Walbridge said, rubbing his eyes. Dakkar noticed the man’s bloody apron and sleeves. ‘The next few days are crucial. If he can fight the infection, we may be able to save his arm. Otherwise I’ll have to amputate, and even then he may not survive.’

‘Can I see him?’ Dakkar said, starting forward to the stairs.

Walbridge blocked his path. ‘The man needs rest,’ he said. ‘Leave him to sleep. He is safe and secure here. I will keep an eye on him.’

‘But –’

‘Oginski is as strong as an ox, Dakkar,’ Cutter said, gripping him by the shoulders and staring deep into his eyes. ‘He is a fighter. You get some rest.’

‘How can I rest when Oginski’s life hangs in the balance?’ Dakkar muttered and stalked out of the cottage, letting the fresh sea breeze slap him awake.

They care about him too
, Dakkar thought. His mind was a confusion of fear and even jealousy.
But how can I even talk with these men? They’d go back to Cryptos tomorrow if Oginski led them
.

Dakkar shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the claw that he’d found on Elba. He turned it over in his fingers.

Piper leaned against the front door of the cottage, his arms folded.

‘That’s a mean-looking spike and no mistake,’ he said, nodding to the claw. ‘Where’s it from?’

‘Elba,’ Dakkar replied. ‘I found it wedged in a door from there. I wonder what kind of creature it is.’

‘There’s someone who might know something,’ Piper said, nodding out to sea. ‘A girl. Mary Anning’s her name.’

‘A girl?’ Dakkar frowned.

‘Yeah,’ Piper continued. ‘She collects all manner of strange petrified things from the beach and sells ’em to folks. Dragon’s Teeth and Devil’s Fingernails. That thing’s as close to what she sells as I can imagine. She might know what kind of creature it’s from.’

‘You really think she’ll be able to help?’ Dakkar asked dubiously.

‘Well, if nothing more, it’ll get you down on the beach.’ Piper grinned. ‘There’s a stiff breeze coming in from the sea. That’ll put some colour in your cheeks at least.’ He winked. ‘And what’s better for taking your mind off poor old Oginski than talkin’ to a pretty young girl?’

Dakkar felt his cheeks redden. ‘Thank you, Piper,’ he muttered and headed to the beach.

The town had woken up now but it was a grey morning in early spring. A few people walked past him, the fishermen touching the brim of their caps, and a few hardy, well-off gentlefolk giving him a cold stare while holding on to their hats.

Dakkar made his way down on to the beach and scraped his feet through the shingle as he strolled along. He took a deep breath and felt the wind whipping his face. The waves pounded the shore just a few feet from him.

He plunged his hands into his pockets. The claw felt sharp and hard in his palm.
Maybe this Anning girl could help
, Dakkar thought, but he strongly suspected that Piper was just trying to divert his thoughts away from poor old Oginski.