Secret of Light (24 page)

Remo stood up. “What news?”

“The army is abroad, Remo.” His uncle sighed. “They are searching the area, but should move on soon. They have other deserters to find, thank God.” He looked at Darrell, his eyes reflecting deep sadness and compassion. “So many men and boys sent to die on fields of battle far from their homes. I do not want my nephew to be among them.” He took Remo by the arm. “I have sent word to your father to send a carriage. You cannot travel securely without an escort.”

Remo nodded. “Thank you, Uncle. We are all in your debt.”

“While you are in the cathedral, you have sanctuary, and we can safely walk upstairs. I have arranged to meet the carriage at the Door of the Canonici on the south
side of the building. Follow me, but please, do not speak. After sundown we maintain complete silence.”

He replaced his cowl over his head and, grasping the candle holder, led the way out into the hall. They followed what seemed to be a maze of tunnels through dark halls smelling of damp. At last they came to a flight of unadorned wooden steps and began to climb. Darrell's leg was tired and sore, but she followed the group closely, more worried about getting left behind than about her sore leg. Delaney padded at her side, head high and eyes alert.

They emerged into the centre nave of the cathedral and headed for the south door. Apart from a few distant spots of light, the velvet dark enclosed them. Darrell could feel the majesty of the great building, and the volume of the silence was like a crescendo around her. Arches supported by soaring pillars took wing into the darkness of ceilings far above. The air was suffused with the heavy smell of incense, and in the main hall a few torches burned in wall sconces to light their way. The cathedral formed the shape of an enormous cross, and Darrell knew one end was crowned with the huge dome she had seen from outside.

She stopped for a moment beside a clock illuminated by a nearby torch on the inner façade. “Look!” she whispered and elbowed Kate. Brother Constantine raised a warning hand, but paused for a moment, allowing Darrell the chance for a closer glimpse.

The clockwork echoed in the vast silence, and Darrell watched the lone hand slide backwards to indicate the passage of a single moment in time. The face of
the clock bore twenty-four roman numerals beginning at the bottom and circling counter-clockwise. Remo's uncle moved on to the door and Darrell, with a last look at the strange clock, was forced to follow.

A carriage clattered to a stop outside the door, and the monk ruffled the hair of his nephew and waved a silent goodbye to the other travellers as they climbed on board. Remo clapped a felt hat on his head and swung into the driver's seat next to the driver. Darrell could hear the conversation from the open seat rise and fall over the clop of the horse's hoofs as they travelled down the road to the Giancarli family home. Cold air blew through the unglazed windows of the carriage.

Narrowing her eyes against the wind, Darrell leaned her head out the window and was just able to see Delaney jogging at a comfortable pace behind the carriage. She spied a small group of soldiers stopped outside what looked like an inn, but not a single head lifted to view the carriage as it passed, intent instead on the warmth and revelry inside.

“There's Verrocchio's stable,” whispered Kate as the carriage jolted along the rutted lane. “Darrell — I'm so sorry you couldn't find the secret of time.”

Darrell smiled a little. “I've just been thinking about that. One good thing happened, though.”

Kate looked quizzical.

“After all those years of hating girls, it was a woman who taught Leonardo the secret he most wanted to learn.” She leaned out the open window of the carriage and tugged on Remo's shoe. A moment later, his face appeared through the window.

“Could you please ask your driver to stop here? We are very near our — our home.”

Remo nodded and his face disappeared. The horses slowed and the driver appeared at the carriage door. Darrell realized from his fine clothes and similar appearance that she must be looking at Remo's father.

He glanced over at the boarded windows of Verrocchio's old home. “My son has just informed me of the peril you saved him from this day. I would take you to our home and provide you with safe lodging before you return to your family. This surely cannot be where you stay?”

Darrell took his proffered hand and stepped gingerly out of the carriage. “Oh — thank you sir, but we will be fine. Our, uh — our carriage is housed in the stable here, and we will be quite safe on our trip home.”

Remo's father bowed. “As you wish. Remember, however, a life-debt is owed you by the Giancarli family of
Firenze
. We will never forget your aid to our son.”

Darrell nodded and stepped quickly away in case Remo's father offered his thanks in the same manner as his son, but was instead rewarded with a gallant bow.

“I don't hear anybody thanking me,” said Conrad, as they walked over to the stable. “I coulda taken off and saved myself, but I stuck around to make sure you guys were okay.”

Kate rolled her eyes as the carriage clattered off into the night. “Let's just get home, all right? This has
been one long day I will never forget.” She opened the door to the stable and found her wrist suddenly clasped in an iron grip.

“Here she is, Salvatore. My sweet little chicken's come home to her coop.”

Darrell stood, her leg trembling with exhaustion, and clutched Kate's hand as they stared down the barrel of the gun wielded by the man known as Salvatore. He looked far too old for this line of work, and a shiny white scar scored his face from eye to chin.

“Luck has smiled upon us, Vito, after the small problem of this afternoon,” he said softly, and set the oil lamp he held on a wooden crate. Conrad and Brodie stood under the watchful eye of Vito, whom Darrell recognized as the man she had seen throwing one of the boys into the back of the cart earlier that day. She saw a glance pass from Brodie to Conrad.

“What are you going to do with us?” she asked, stalling.

“Oh, your friends over there will go back to the commander. I'm sure he'll be delighted to see them again. And as for you, pretty girls...”

A creak of a hinge silenced him and all turned to the door. A skinny brown shape wriggled though the doorway.

Darrell's breath caught in her throat. “Delaney!”

Both guns turn to point at the dog, and in that instant, Brodie leaped. He landed squarely on the back of Vito and squashed him flat. The musket flew out of his hand.

Brodie yelled, “Grab the gun!” and Conrad was on it in an instant, aiming it straight at Salvatore. Delaney barked and scampered up the stairs to stand on the edge of the tiny hayloft.

Salvatore grinned, showing the blackened stumps of his teeth. “It all comes down now to who best can aim,” he said, and he tucked the weapon more firmly under his arm and pointed it straight at Conrad.

“I disagree,” said Conrad, with a strange smile. “I believe we have a situation here that we can both profit from, Mr. Salvatore,
sir
.” He gestured with his musket. “You can have these three in exchange for the pouch of gold you have hanging on your belt. You can sell 'em and get your money back in no time flat. Get them out of here, and I'll look after myself.”

Darrell was stunned. “You've got to be kidding, Conrad,” she said. “What are you thinking?” She glanced sideways and saw a look of disgust on Brodie's face.

“It's not much of a choice, is it, Gimp? Let's see — do I get hauled off to fight in a war in whatever godforsaken century we're in, or do I grab the gold and take my time finding my merry way back to Eagle Glen?”

“You don't know the way,” Kate blurted, a mixture of anger and despair in her voice.

“Hey, I know the entrance is around here somewhere, 'cause this is where you were all heading. I'm not in any hurry. I'll find it.”

Keeping the musket at point-blank aim, he shuffled over to the steps leading to the tiny hayloft. “I tell the good professor a long, sad story about the three of you stealing a boat for a joyride and how I nobly tried to stop you.” He laughed. “Not that she'll believe my noble impulses, but there won't be anyone around to contradict me, will there?” He jerked his head at Salvatore. “Do we have a deal?”

Behind Conrad's back, Brodie shifted his position on Vito's legs. One of Vito's arms was trapped beneath him, and Brodie twisted the other arm high on his back to hold him. Darrell watched as Brodie put his free hand on the dagger in the scabbard at Vito's waist.

Salvatore shrugged. “I don't think I want to give up my gold,” he said, and put his finger on the trigger.

Brodie pulled the dagger out of the scabbard.

“Watch him, Sal!” Vito wailed. Conrad looked at Vito and Salvatore's musket exploded.

Darrell saw Conrad stagger off the step as a red spray flowered from one arm. His own musket fired and shot wild, hitting the oil lamp standing on the crate near the door. The darkness filling the small stable exploded into light as flames raced across the floor and straight up the walls of the old building. Salvatore, splashed with oil from the lamp, was suddenly ablaze and ran like a screaming human torch straight into the arms of Vito,
who flung him through the door and rolled him on the icy ground outside to smother the flames.

Darrell had a final sight of Salvatore, his clothes smoking as he lay stunned on the ground outside, while Vito leaped back through the smouldering door to drag Conrad along the ground and out of the stable.

In an instant, Darrell watched her whole world burst into flame.

When she opened her eyes, the brilliance that had seared them with its hellish beauty was gone, and her vision was obscured as though by a thick, grey blanket. Around her was an orchestra of fire; the roar of flame, the crack of collapsing timbers, and the explosive popping of wood assaulted her, and she placed her hands over her ears to protect them from the sudden cacophony. The blanket lifted and at her feet she watched the straw change form in an instant, from yellowed grass to brilliant lines of red fire to incinerated ash.

The heat on her face was terrible — so intense that she felt her skin might melt. And there was nothing left to breathe; the fire greedily swallowed the air and left only ash that filled her mouth and adhered to her tongue. She closed her eyes and waited to be consumed.

Instead she felt a yank on her arm and she fell to the side, barking her shin painfully. The shock of the pain in her leg cleared her thoughts enough to stumble forward. Her arm felt like it was being pulled out of the socket and her groping hand found a scrap of fabric and clutched at it like she was drowning. Something impossibly cold touched her cheek and she fell forward as any last hope of breath was taken by a wind that whirled her away.

Darrell sat on a log half-buried in sand and stared out at the water, thinking. It felt like this was the first moment she had been alone and quiet for months. Delaney gave his open-mouthed, tongue-lolling smile, and she ruffled the rich fur at his neck, as golden as if it had always been that way.

At the far end of the beach to the north, a group of boulders stood like ancient fallen soldiers tumbled into the surf. Behind them was a crevice in the rock face of the cliff curving out to meet the sea. And inside the crevice was the cave where everything had started. But she couldn't think of that now.

“We need a little time to ourselves, right buddy?”

His tail thumped once, and he lay his heavy head on her knee. Her fingers curling in the fur at his neck, she turned to look at the charred remains of the lighthouse. She still felt stunned when she looked at it — the physical evidence of how badly she had
managed to mess up so many lives, most especially her own.

Kate was finally asleep, after spending the night plagued by nightmares. Brodie was blue along one side of his rib cage from being kicked. And Conrad?

Where was Conrad?

Was he alive? Was he dead? She would never know, because the only way to get him back was closed, burned to the ground, gone forever. The old lighthouse was gone, no longer a portal to anyone but rats sheltering from the sea spray. At the very tip of the rock promontory, a brand new light on a high cement pillar towered above the jumble of charred wood and shattered concrete.

Gravel crunched behind her, and she looked around to see Brodie making his way across the rocky shore. Delaney stretched and yawned, and then strolled over to escort Brodie to her spot on the sand.

“Mind if I pull up a piece of log?”

“Hey, if you're crazy enough to come out here in the cold, you're welcome to sit down.”

He winced a little as he sat next to her on the damp wood.

“Are you okay?” she asked anxiously. The chill of the misty air seemed to wrap itself around her heart.

“It's just a bruise,” he replied, and changed the subject. “Feels like it's going to snow soon,” he said, “but it'll probably be raining again here when we get back in January.”

“Yep,” said Darrell, but the thought of coming back to the school and trying to resume a normal life was too much. She put her face into her hands.

He touched her wrist gently. “How are
you
feeling?”

She lifted her head abruptly and looked him straight in the eyes. “I just dragged my friends through an inferno,” she said bitterly. “One can't sleep for screaming nightmares and the other looks like he broke a rib. And on top of that, I managed to burn someone else up in a fire that actually took place around five hundred years ago.”

She clenched her hands so tightly that her fingernails dug into the flesh of her palms. “But me? Not even a scratch. I can't believe you want to have anything to do with me after all that's happened, Brodie.” Her eyes stung with unshed tears.