Free Moon Mask by James Richardson Page A

one of the most isolated places on earth is going to turn down a little female attention, huh?”
    “You’ve got a point,” King conceded.
    They each took another swig of bourbon. King felt his head start to swim already but enjoyed the sense of relaxation the alcohol brought to his tense muscles.
    “So, what is this crazy-ass theory of yours, and what’s it got to do with that thin looking fellow I pulled out from a crocodile pool earlier?”
    “Ah, it’s complicated,” he replied casually.
    “I’m listening,” Raine replied.
    King studied him for several seconds, looking for any signs of piss-taking. “Okay,” he said and proceeded to layout the theory that he and his father had spent years working on. He told the pilot all about the Bouda, about their city of stone and their belief in a magical mask which could travel through time, but which did not save them in the end.
    He explained how initially his father had come to the conclusion that the Bouda had been a great civilisation which had spread throughout the African continent, but that his theory evolved to suggest that they too had been the remains of an even greater, global culture. The Progenitor Race, he had come to believe, were the gods of the Bouda who had divided up the Moon Mask and carried it on their journeys to different lands, one of which being South America. Finding the Moon Mask not only proved the existence of the mythological Bouda, but of their ancestors, the Progenitors.
    Raine listened with a surprising degree of interest, asking the occasional question between taking gulps of bourbon.
    “So how does our emaciated friend fit into all this?” he asked, referring again to the skeleton they had found earlier.
    King’s face sank. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Not now. I mean, I thought I did, but . . .”
    “Who did you think he was?”
    King took another swig of whisky. His words came out breathlessly. “The Black Death. ”
    “As in . . . the plague?” Raine asked uncertainly.
    “The pirate.”
    “Oh.”
    “Between the years 1707 and 1712 there were a number of scattered reports about a pirate raiding ships and ports around the Caribbean- a large, black African. An escaped slave.”
    “What’s so unusual about that?”
    “Nothing,” King admitted. “Except that most of the pirates of that era were well documented at the time. Blackbeard, Henry Morgan, Bartholomew Roberts-”
    “Jack Sparrow,” Raine added with a grin.
    King smiled. “But, there have never been any official logs or reports that specifically mention anyone I can identify with the Black Death. It’s more of a legend, verging on a ghost story. I’ve only ever found two references to him by ‘name’, or nickname anyway. In each account he is described as a giant black man, wielding a golden sword and dagger.”
    “Would pirate ships of that era have travelled such distances?”
    “It’s not unheard of, though they ordinarily concentrated on particular areas.”
    “Hence, Pirates of the Caribbean,” Raine said with a grin. Apparently, Hollywood was his only fount of knowledge concerning pirates.
    “But,” he continued, “for the right prize . . .”
    “The Moon Mask,” Raine realised. “The Black Death was searching for the pieces of the Moon Mask.” He frowned. “Why? Surely there were much more lucrative treasures to be found?”
    “The Black Death wasn’t interested in treasure,” King said. “I believe he scoured the earth, travelling any distance necessary, in order to find all the pieces of the Moon Mask. I’m not saying I believe it,” he added defensively, “but there is no doubting that he would have believed the ancient legend.”
    “About the mask giving its wearer the ability to travel through time,” Raine remembered what King had told him. He also made another connection. “He was part of the Bouda. He thought that with the entire mask, he could go back in time and save his people from dying on that slave