The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,64
the shelter of Sara’s tent, and ducked inside as another volley of lightning snapped. Sara zipped shut the tent flap while her sister set the box on the table. She went to the lantern and turned it on as high as she dared, just enough to see. Any higher, and it would attract the notice of other crew members.
Standing over the table, they examined the dig site’s third find: a battered oak box, splitting with decay. Judging from how long it had lain hidden in the peat, Sara couldn’t believe it had survived. She touched the amulet hidden under her sodden shirt and wondered if, as with the necklace, there might be a reason it hadn’t aged faster.
Fragments of cloth stuck to the brass hinges and lock. The box must have been wrapped in an oilcloth before being laid in its resting place. She traced her fingers over the lid, and felt regular, shallow depressions where carved runework had worn to near illegibility. The archaeologist in her screamed for a tape measure and notebook. “I hate to open this thing without cataloguing it.”
Faith gaped at her. “Put this in writing? Are you nuts?”
“I know, I know. Let’s just open it before I lose the nerve.”
Faith picked up her shovel and smashed it against the lock. The soft brass split in two and fell to the table. “Hakon, I hope you know what you’re doing.” She opened the latch and lifted the box’s lid.
Inside rested a cloth bundle. Touching it, Sara felt a greasy residue. She’d been right about the oilcloth; whale or seal fat, maybe. “How is this not decomposed? All of it should be rotted away after a thousand years in the ground.” She lifted the bundle out. Faith set the empty box on the tent floor.
Sara laid the bundle on the table, then unwrapped it, holding her breath. She turned back the final corner of canvas. She and Faith gasped in unison.
It gleamed, even in the diffuse light of a low lantern. The sword blade reached almost three feet. In utter defiance of its age, it bore a mirror shine. The hilt’s grip sparkled with inlaid brass and copper bands. The pommel bore another inset of copper. Then Sara noticed the gently curving guards at the base of the hilt. “Serpent heads,” whispered Faith.
Sara brushed her fingers along the hand guard.
The amulet sizzled under her shirt. With a yelp, she snatched her hand back and grappled with the necklace, pulling it out and holding it away from her body. “It burned me!”
Brows aloft, Faith laid one hand on the sword and, ignoring Sara’s objection, touched a finger to the amulet. Hissing, she took her hands away from both objects. “Not burning...buzzing. That’s what I felt when I was searching for the sword and holding your hand. I felt it through you. They’re connected somehow.”
Sara pulled the neck of her shirt down. Her skin bore no burn marks. “You handle the sword. I’m not touching it again.”
“It’s almost angry,” Faith murmured. “I’ve never felt an object express emotion before.” She folded the canvas back over the sword, then picked the bundle up. “I need to take this back to my tent and try to reach Hakon. With any luck, he’ll tell us what to do with it now that we have it.” She bent and placed the wrapped sword back in its box.
“What about the hole at the dig? Someone’s bound to notice in the morning and start guessing.”
Faith frowned and shoved the box under her sister’s cot. “We’ll have to refill it.”
“I used almost everything I had. There’s no way I can rebuild that wall.”
Retrieving her shovel, Faith unzipped Sara’s tent door. “Then we’ll make it look like it collapsed. Grab a shovel.”
Thunder rumbled as they left the tent. Through the driving rain, Sara spied an approaching figure. She shouted a warning. Faith swung the shovel.
Her adversary caught it by the shaft, and its arc stopped short. Lightning speared the sky, throwing Ian’s features into sharp relief. “We have a problem. Becky’s at my tent.”
“What?” Sara peered over her sister’s shoulder at him. Alarm raced to every nerve in her body.
Ian let go of Faith’s shovel. “Becky. At my tent. I need your boat keys.”
“Are you okay? She didn’t—”
“I’m fine,” he responded. “She, on the other hand, needs a hospital as fast as she can get there.”
Faith lowered her shovel. “What happened?”
“I have no idea. I’m lucky I didn’t shoot her when she burst into my tent. She’s