The Legend of the Rift

by Peter Lerangis

  She gave me a funny look, but then she nodded. Slinging a pair of binoculars around her neck, she ducked through the flap with me.

  Aliyah took my arm, and we walked a path parallel to the shore. After the last tremor, the sea had receded again. Now Slippy rested on mud about fifty feet up the slope. In the full moon’s light, the jet glowed an eerie amber white that made the eyes of Brother Dimitrios’s portrait seem to follow us.

  “I miss him,” she said. “He could be so dull and even coarse at times, but he was dedicated and trustworthy. And surprisingly wise. To me, at least.”

  “WWDD,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What Would Dimitrios Do?” I said. “Listen, Aliyah. Cass, Marco, and I—we’re only thirteen. We’ve been through a lot, but we’re still kids. So far we’ve been lucky. But for what we have to do now, we need help. Your help—”

  “Are you gaming me?” Aliyah spun on me. “Jack, let me be blunt. Your chances of succeeding are wildly bad. You are entering what has always been a physical impossibility—a breach of time. How can I justify your taking six Loculi? What if you don’t come back?”

  “Exactly. If we don’t come back, then what will you be left with?” I said. “Six Loculi, Aliyah. Tell me what you can do with only six of them. Six Loculi won’t raise Atlantis. You’ll be stuck on this island and what happens to your plans? To the memory of your brother? Is that what you want?”

  Her eyes fell. She didn’t say a word.

  “Without the Loculi we’re just normal kids jumping into that rift,” I went on. “With the Loculi, we have power. Superabilities. We stand a chance of succeeding. Of returning with all seven. Which is the only thing that matters to you. And to us.”

  Nothing. No comment at all. How could she be so dense? “Come on, this is a no-brainer, Aliyah!” I blurted out.

  Ugh. Nice job, McKinley. Way to be disrespectful to the leader of the Massa.

  Her face hardened. She looked away from me, inward to the island.

  “I—I don’t mean to be disrespectful,” I said. “We can quietly fly over the jungle and avoid the beasts, then drop into the caldera—”

  Aliyah shook her head. “No,” she said quietly. “If you’re going to do this, I would like us all to go to Mount Onyx together.”

  “Wait. Did you say—?”

  “But for all our safety, you will take the Loculi with us through the jungle,” Aliyah continued. “I will have Manolo get them. And the rebels will help protect us.”

  I grinned. “Common sense wins out—woo-hoo!”

  “Not so fast,” Aliyah said. “When we reach the caldera, I will make a decision as to whether you’ll take them further. Meanwhile, please get some sleep. We will leave at first light.”

  “Thank you, Aliyah,” I said, as she turned away. “And, hey, let’s win this one for your little brother. Full steam ahead for Osman.”

  As she walked back to the tent, the wind lifted her hair on the tendrils of a gray-white mist. I thought I saw the glint of moisture on her cheek. “As you wish, my liege,” she said with a smile.

  My liege. She had called me that before. She always said it like it was a joke, but I knew it wasn’t. Not really. It was a reminder. They didn’t want me to forget I was the Destroyer, and the Destroyer would be king. But king of what? Some kind of New Order, after Atlantis was raised?

  This made me nervous. It also made me think about something we’d never really figured out: What the heck were we going to do if we did finally get all the Loculi? Raise Atlantis, the way the Massa wanted, and risk destroying the world? Or destroy the Loculi, Karai-style, and give up any hope of surviving past our fourteenth birthdays?

  The worst part was, we didn’t have time to talk about it.

  I thought about this all night. I tossed and turned when I was supposed to be sleeping. Finally I just got up and had a breakfast of stale crackers, rainwater, and some kind of foul-tasting jerky that only Torquin seemed to enjoy.

  Now we were racing the sunrise.

  As soon as we got up, a rebel named Felix, who had been Karai’s “Director of Design, Electronics and Wardrobe,” began fitting us with special dual-pouch vest packs. Each vest had two compartments and each compartment was big enough to contain one Loculus. A pack for each Select meant we could comfortably carry all six Loculi. Along each side Felix had added a quick-release tab, a rawhide cord that pulled down a huge zipper.

  “It’s too tight.” Marco hunched his shoulders forward to show how badly his new backpack fit.

  Felix, eyed him skeptically. “I think it’s slimming.”

  “Marco the Magnificently Slim,” Cass said.

  Marco struck a heroic pose. “I kind of like that.”

  “How’d you make these so fast?” Cass asked.

  “I made them lo-o-ong ago, baby,” Felix said with a laugh. “For when you guys would make a heroic return and join us in the revolution. Which isn’t going to happen now. Lucky us. Anyway, you guys practice releasing those side tabs. I salvaged the zippers from Karai storage. They’re industrial grade. The leather should be nearly indestructible. Drying and tanning those vizzeet skins was no easy task.”

  “These things are made of vizzeets?” Cass said.

  Felix put his hands on his hips. “Well, they’re not alive. . . .”

  “I’m not going to ask about the jerky I just ate,” I said.

  The tent flap opened, and Aliyah strode in. “Well, the ground has not shaken, vibrated, or heaved in five hours. And the sun rises in sixteen minutes. Are we ready?”

  “To risk our lives doing something that every scientist in history says is impossible?” Cass said. “Oh, sure.”

  “Number One, ma’am?” Eloise piped up. “Are you sure I can’t go?”

  “You’re so polite when you want to do something totally dumb,” Cass said.

  As she drew back her arm to smack him, Cass lurched away. With a growl, Eloise jumped at him, and he caught her in his arms.

  I thought they were going to tear each other apart. But they wrapped their arms tightly around each other and rocked back and forth. “When you come back,” Eloise said, “can we go home?”

  Cass’s eyes were red. “Mom and Dad—”

  “Are in jail,” Eloise said. “I know. But that doesn’t matter, right? You and me—we can make a home and take care of each other until they get out, right?”

  “Right,” Cass said.

  “And we can move next door to Jack,” Eloise said.

  Cass smiled. “And Aly and Marco will come to visit all the time.”

  “Emosewa,” Eloise said. “And gnizama.”

  They stood there without moving while everyone else bustled around in preparation.

  For sixteen minutes.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  ONCE MORE INTO THE RIFT

  “EEEEEE!”

  The monkeys were on a time release. It was like they were programmed to scream at the top of their lungs the moment the sun peeked over the horizon.

  Which wasn’t the most pleasant way to start what might be the last day of our lives.

  As we walked through the jungle, we were flanked by rebels and Massa soldiers armed with blowpipes and guns. “Ignore them, they are merely making mischief,” Torquin said. His voice seemed weirdly calm and un-Torquinlike, as if being with the Massa put him on his best behavior. But his face was dripping with sweat.

  “You feeling off your game again, Torquin?” I asked.

  “I suppose you could say that,” he replied.

  Marco barked a laugh. “Dude, you are the only person I know whose vocabulary gets better when he’s sick.”

  “It’s the white beard,” Cass said. “It makes him feel distinguished.”

  “EEEEEE!” agreed a chimpanzee.

  “Would be so easy to blast those obnoxious pests!” Manolo said.

  Another monkey dropped down from a tree, grabbed Manolo’s head, and planted a big fat kiss. As it swung away, screeching, the gu
ard staggered backward. “Uccch! Did you see that? Request permission to—”

  “Stay on task, please, Manolo,” Aliyah said.

  “Perhaps they recognize a kindred spirit,” Torquin grumbled.

  “Ha! Good one, Tork,” Marco said.

  “Pah!” Torquin’s response was so loud, so explosive, that we all jumped a little.

  “Torquin? You’re scaring us,” Eloise said.

  “Sorry,” Torquin grumbled. “Passed out . . .”

  “Uh, no, you didn’t,” I said. “You were right here with us. Hiking.”

  Torquin nodded. “Huh. Okay. Follow me.”

  He took the lead, bushwhacking through the jungle with a machete. Marco rolled his eyes and circled his index finger around his ear. “Cuckoo,” he mouthed.

  We walked carefully. Every rustle in the trees made my hair stand on end. Cass was shivering, despite the fact that the temperature must have been close to ninety already. A rustle in the brush made him jump so hard he hit his head on a tree. “Hyyeaaaahh!” shouted one of the Massa guards, slicing a machete through the undergrowth.

  A small bush went tumbling away, and an iguana skittered for its life.

  “That was close!” Cass shouted.

  “It was a lizard,” Eloise said. “How did you ever survive a griffin attack?”

  “Barely,” Cass said.

  Eloise sighed. “Brothers . . .”

  A couple of hours in, the sun began to pound. Last night’s moisture was rising in thick, fetid-smelling waves from the ground. All we could hear was the crackling of branches and leaves beneath our feet.

  But I was starting to get a little creeped out. Not by the fear of attack but by the lack of any. No vromaski growls, no griffin calls, no vizzeet screeches. And as we neared the volcano, even the monkey cries receded into the distance. The last time we hiked through the woods, we’d left a trail of poison-darted beasts by this time.

  Nirvana hiked back toward us, her face drenched in sweat. “Sorry, guys,” she said. “No fun today. The beasts are pretty quiet. Maybe they don’t like the heat.”

  “Quiet is good,” Cass shot back.

  “I’m suspicious,” Marco said.

  “I think they’re waiting to give a surprise party at Mount Onyx,” Eloise suggested.

  “Don’t say that!” Cass barked. “Even as a joke.”

  “Well, what do you think it is?” Eloise asked.

  “The island flooded, right?” Cass said. “When that happens, things drown. That means lots of easy meals. So if I were a griffin or a vromaski or a vizzeet, I’d be filling up on some of that roadkill and not bothering to hunt things that can still run away and fight back.”

  No one had the energy to argue. We were all grateful for the peace. As we reached a clearing near the base of the volcano, we could see a team of Massa scientists waited by the cave entrance, near a carved number 7 in the rock wall.

  One of them was Mom. As usual, I had to restrain myself from running to her. “Hello, Sister Nancy!” I cried out, maybe a little too energetically.

  “Hi there,” she said. Her eyes were appropriately friendly, but as corny as it sounds, I swear I could see I love you in them. Which made my face heat up embarrassingly. I turned around and started coughing, causing Marco to pound me on the back. I forced myself to stop before I lost my breakfast jerky.

  “We’ll be joining you,” Mom said. “We have a map of the route. This will help us avoid wrong turns.”

  Torquin waddled up next to her. “Bravo. Excellent idea.”

  “Well . . . thank you, Torquin,” Mom said brightly.

  “He’s got a rare germ that makes him sound like a real person,” Marco explained.

  Aliyah looked over her shoulder. “We’ve been lucky so far this morning. Are we ready to continue?”

  “I guess,” Eloise said.

  “Um . . .” Cass said.

  “You bet,” Marco said.

  Felix circled around behind us and began helping Cass unhook his Loculus vest.

  “No, we’re not ready,” I said, staring at Aliyah.

  She gave me a weary look. “Jack, please . . .”

  I put my hand on Felix’s arm before he could go any further. “We go nowhere unless we can take the Loculi with us.”

  Aliyah’s guards stepped forward menacingly.

  “You told me you would think about it,” I reminded her.

  “I did,” Aliyah said. She pulled a small silver chain from around her neck. At the bottom hung a simple, orb-shaped locket.

  Quietly she hung it around my neck, and I held the locket in my hand. “What is this?”

  “Open it,” she said.

  As I popped it open, we all gathered around to look at a yellowed school photo of a dark-skinned, grinning gap-toothed kid about nine years old. Across the bottom was a white-on-black placard that spelled out OSMAN BARTEVYAN.

  Aliyah gave a signal to Felix, and he backed away from Cass.

  She glanced to the sky, sighed, and in a soft but clear voice said, “Once more into the rift.”

  It was the fastest we had ever reached the waterfall. It was also the loudest I’d ever heard it. The water raged from its opening high above, crashing over the rocky wall and thundering into the pool below. It didn’t quite block out the Song of the Heptakiklos, but it sure gave it a good run for its money.

  Marco knelt by the waterfall’s pool and splashed water on his face. “Feels great,” he said. “Even if you’re not dead.”

  He was right. All of us were tired, and we took a moment to refresh ourselves in the rejuvenating water. It had been a real slog through the labyrinth. Even though Mount Onyx was on the highest part of the island, rainwater had seeped into the paths, maybe two inches deep in some places. Our legs ached and our feet were wet and blistered.

  “Okay, before we do this, do you all know which Loculi you’re carrying?” Aliyah asked.

  I adjusted my pack and stood. “I have Language and Flight.”

  “Invisibility and Healing,” Cass said.

  “Bert and Ernie,” Marco said.

  Aliyah glared at him.

  “Okay. Underwater Breathing and Teleportation,” Marco said.

  “Then let’s roll,” I said.

  Aliyah nodded. I touched the silver locket, and we all turned toward the caldera.

  We weren’t expecting to hear the loud, steady sound of breathing from inside, like the hum of a jet engine.

  “Whoa,” Marco said. “Is that Torquin?”

  “I—I don’t think so,” Cass squeaked.

  I looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t see Torquin, but there were maybe twelve people crowded into a narrow space. So I walked up next to Marco, and we both crept toward the center of the volcano.

  “Jack and I will do some recognizance,” Marco called out.

  “Reconnaissance,” I whispered.

  “That, too,” Marco said.

  The sun was just about directly overhead, so we had to shield our eyes. White light scorched the rocky walls and highlighted each stain and scuffle left from our last battle.

  Only the corner that contained the Heptakiklos was in darkness. Because of the wall’s angle, that area was dark, day and night.

  With the Loculi on our backs and the Heptakiklos about fifty feet away, the Song of the Heptakiklos twanged in my head. It obliterated just about every other noise—except the deep, scratchy breathing, which I heard loud and clear.

  “Sounds like a hose-beaked vromaski with a bad cold.” Marco took my arm and we both stepped forward. “Go slowly, Brother Jack. Remember, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

  “Famous last words,” I said.

  “Dude, we have the Loculi,” Marco reminded me. “Piglet doesn’t stand a chance. You hold on to Flight, I’ll hold on to Teleportation, and we’ll kick his butt from here to Halicarnassus. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said.

  We both yanked down the quick-release side zippers, pulled out the Locul
i, and stepped into the darkness. Instantly the temperature dropped about ten degrees. I could feel the mists of the Heptakiklos swirling around me.

  As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we both froze.

  Sitting on its haunches in the middle of the Heptakiklos was a silhouette of a beast whose folded wings touched two of the caldera walls. In the darkness I couldn’t see its color, but it had the body of a giant lion.

  “Check it out, Tweety’s back!” Marco said.

  The creature shook its head slowly. It had no beak, and its face was smooth and round. “I-it’s not a griffin, Marco,” I said. “This thing must have flown here while we were away. Or escaped through the rift . . .”

  The creature’s wings unfolded with a whoosh that nearly knocked us over. I could hear Eloise shrieking behind us.

  “I would thank you,” came a deep voice that sent vibrations directly up my spine, “not to call me a thing.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THE RIDDLE AND THE SWORD

  FOR A MOMENT I was convinced someone was playing toy drums, until I realized it was just my knees knocking together.

  Marco dropped a Loculus on the ground, then quickly recovered it. “Dude. Sorry. I take it back. I didn’t know you could talk.”

  The creature was striding toward us on four stout legs, spiked with stiff fur. Its shoulders, at least ten feet high, drove up and down like pistons. But I still could not get a good sense of its face.

  “Oh, I can talk,” it said. “And in many languages. If your friends know what is good for them, they will put down their weapons. I believe they have something of mine.”

  Guns began clicking behind me. A dart came flying over my head, embedding itself into the creature’s right leg to no effect. “Stop!” I called out.

  I heard a flurry of shouting and commotion. Aliyah was yelling at Manolo. I was too afraid to turn away, too intent on seeing what this creature looked like.

  Marco and I backed away. The creature’s wings were leathery and thick, resting on either side of a deeply furred body. It wasn’t a griffin. Griffins were sleek, fast moving, and nervous. This thing was broad and hulking and deliberate.

  “We come in peace!” Cass shouted.