Free Isle of Swords by Wayne Thomas Batson

his head once again. “With the key in hand, we begin a five-mile trek from one end of the island to the other. We will enter a network of volcanic caves and sedimentary tubes. From there we emerge in a dense forest. This takes us around the base of Arrojar del Fuego, a volcano that never rests. At last, we are faced with a final climb . . . a mile-long slope that is both steep and perilous. Jags of sharp granite and steps of brittle sandstone at our feet and unusual volcanic lightning overhead. We will make our way to the gate of Boveda de Dios, the fortress that guards both our treasures.”
    â€œIf all this mon say b’ true,” Stede said, “then how we b’ getting the treasure back down? The slope will kill us, if we b’ heavy with gold.”
    â€œHe is right. It will not be easy,” the monk said.
    â€œThe window in the back of the fortress, how high did you say it was?” Ross asked.
    â€œAbout two hundred feet.”
    â€œAnd the depth of the water at its base?”
    The monk hesitated. “I do not know for certain, but I suspect there is at least fifty feet of water at the base of the cliff.”
    â€œWe’re going to need woven baskets—and rope, lots of rope.”
    Ross grinned. “I know a man in Dominica. He’ll get it for us. That and some other things we’ll need.”
    â€œI don’t suppose he has access to monkey pee, does he?”
    The room suddenly went very quiet.
    At last, Ross said, “That’s kind of an odd request.”
    The monk laughed. “Yes, I know. Let me explain myself. You see, within the caves and volcanic tubes that we must travel, there lives a species of lizard found nowhere else. They are carnivorous creatures drawn to body heat. One man is not usually enough to draw them out, but given the size of our expedition, they will come at us in dangerous numbers. The monkey pee has a unique smell that wards these creatures off.”
    â€œI don’ think I want to know what we b’ doing with that monkey pee,” muttered Stede.
    â€œYou’re right,” said the monk as he turned to leave. “You don’t.”
    â€œWait, Padre,” Ross said. “One more thing.”
    Padre Dominguez eyed the captain curiously.
    â€œWhy did you—why tattoo the map on your back?”
    Padre Dominguez smiled sadly. “There are several reasons,” he explained. “It is the largest area of skin without blemish, a kind of canvas of skin. And having the route to a great treasure where one can easily see it would prove too great a temptation, so, again, the back is better suited. But the Brethren’s primary reason for having the map inscribed upon our backs is . . . that it is a symbol.”
    â€œA symbol of what?”
    â€œJust as Christ bore the cross, we too must bear a burden.”

    Later, up on the deck of the Wallace , the captain and his quartermaster spoke in whispers. “He’s hiding something, Declan,” said Stede. “Did ya see the way he changed when we told him about Chevillard?”
    â€œYes,” Ross replied, his eyes narrowing. “Almost like he knew the man.”
    â€œYeah, I was thinkin’ the same,” said Stede. “And, funny how him won’t b’ telling us the part of the treasure him b’ wanting to get fer himself.”
    â€œI don’t really care what part of the treasure he wants. If Constantine’s wealth is half as grand as it’s supposed to be, we’ll all have enough to get out of this business once and for all,” Ross said.
    â€œDeclan Ross.” Stede clapped his captain on the shoulder. “We both learn the hard way that the sweet trade ain’t so sweet.”
    â€œNo, my friend, it isn’t. If the nations we sailed for hadn’t cut us all loose, I doubt if many of this crew would have ever turned to piracy! Now, in spite of everything I’ve done to convince her