Curse of the Ancients

by Matt De La Peña

  “An absolute child,” Riq said, shaking his head.

  Sera and Riq both turned away from Dak and began tinkering with the SQuare. “Seriously, though,” Dak called to them, “aren’t you guys hungry?”

  They ignored him.

  Dak watched them work for a few minutes. Sera obviously knew what she was doing. She was a genius when it came to science, so working with numbers came somewhat naturally to her. And as a language whiz, Riq had an advantage over Dak whenever their clues involved codes or ciphers. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to be benched, though.

  “Whatever,” Dak muttered under his breath.

  He wandered a few yards down the stone wall and sat against it, watching the rain and thinking about the riddle. A snake charmer. A clown. A treasure that never was. The truth of the curse. None of it rang any bells.

  Being left alone like this reminded Dak of what got them into this history-saving situation in the first place. Just a few days ago — Wait, how was he supposed to measure days while traveling through time? He couldn’t exactly consult a modern calendar. And the Mayan version wouldn’t do him any good.

  However long ago it was, the last time they were back home, in the present, he’d mistakenly let Sera into his parents’ lab, where she had become obsessed with the Infinity Ring, ignoring him for hours and hours and hours — just like she was ignoring him now. Dak shook his head, thinking about that fateful day. If he’d never shown her what his parents were working on, Sera never would’ve figured out the missing piece of the puzzle. And if she hadn’t figured out the missing piece of the puzzle, they never would’ve taken that stupid test run back to the Revolutionary War, and his parents wouldn’t be lost somewhere in time right now.

  Dak watched several more Mayas race down the white street, carrying their children in their arms. It was a strange sight considering the rain was hardly more than a lazy drizzle, though the wind was definitely picking up now.

  Dak leaned his head back against the wall, fingering the iron key he had tucked into the side of his leggings. His parents had given it to him in the year 911, somehow knowing that he would need it to escape the SQ in 1850. It boggled his mind.

  Dak squeezed his eyes shut, tightened his grip on the key, and imagined their faces. He understood that what he, Sera, and Riq were doing was monumentally important. They were literally trying to save the world. And he loved warping back to different parts of history, seeing famous events unfold right before his eyes. But lately, in secret, Dak wondered if he wouldn’t ditch all the heroics in exchange for having his mom and dad back in his life — even for a day.

  These thoughts made Dak feel guilty, so he got up and hustled back over to Sera and Riq, saying, “Never fear, my fellow time-traveling comrades, I’ve come to save the day. Please, how might my talents best be utilized?”

  They didn’t even acknowledge his existence.

  “Guys?”

  Nothing.

  Dak shrugged. If they didn’t need him, he didn’t need them either.

  He turned to go and explore the wet Mayan village on his own. If he was lucky, he’d find some vital clue to the riddle . . . which he wouldn’t share with anyone.

  Dak found himself crossing back over the white road, toward a large domed building a little ways off. It looked like an observatory. He cupped a hand against his forehead to keep the rain out of his eyes. It was so hot and humid he was almost thankful to be wearing a breechcloth. It was actually keeping him fairly cool and allowed for occasional drafts that proved tremendously refreshing. What if he started rocking one of these bad boys in the present? Would it catch on? He pictured all his bros in fifth grade wearing them, too. Sitting around the caf, talking. Lining up for assemblies. Eventually they’d run a nice profile piece on him in the school paper next to the caption Dak Smyth, more than your ordinary history genius.

  Then he remembered one very important fact:

  He didn’t really have any bros.

  Unless he counted Sera — which he decided he did.

  Dak tried all the doors of the observatory, but they were locked. He was surprised by the size of the building. According to his research on Mesoamerican civilizations, the Maya were curious about astrology. And art. And music. But they didn’t have the technology for anything overly refined — for instance, they probably weren’t spreading their cheese onto TriSQuits.

  Thunder crashed so loud overhead, Dak flinched. The rain started falling harder, too, and at an odd angle.

  Dak knew he should hurry back to the others, get out of the brewing storm, but just then he spotted a narrow opening in the observatory wall, like a small glassless window. He moved toward it and peered inside, the rain raking down his back. It was dark inside, except for a few candles that burned near the far wall of the large room. Next to this wall, which had a large painting of a tree, were three older men kneeling on the floor, writing on a massive sheet of a paper-like material. The thing was longer than they were tall.

  Then, on the floor beside them, Dak spotted something else. A colorful mask. The kind a clown might wear. Dak immediately thought of the riddle. Maybe there was some kind of connection. And then Dak considered something else. Something potentially incredible. What if these men were working on the Great Mayan Codex? He knew there were probably many codices, a type of book, produced during this era. But his heart sped up anyway. Because everything around him made him think he was in the seventh century. And that meant it was possible that he was witnessing the composition of one of the most revered texts in all of history.

  Dak pounded on the wall, so excited he was having trouble breathing. As soon as the men looked up, though, he thought better of it and ducked out of sight. Because if the authors of the Great Mayan Codex had prophesized that the SQ would one day come along and save all mankind, it was possible that the authors themselves were SQ. Or even a group of Time Wardens, whom the SQ had positioned throughout history to protect their agenda from meddling time travelers . . . like Dak.

  He crouched there for several long minutes, trying to think.

  Rain pummeled his entire body, puddling around his knees and elbows.

  He finally pushed away from the observatory and sprinted back across the road. He had to go tell Riq and Sera about the clown mask. And the codex. Even if they didn’t deserve to know.

  When Dak finally rounded the stone wall and spotted his friends, he stopped in his tracks. “No,” he said under his breath.

  Riq and Sera were surrounded by three thuggish-looking Mayas, one of whom was holding the Infinity Ring in his grimy hands.

  THE RAIN was pounding down so hard against the thin, metallic overhang, Riq was having trouble hearing the man standing directly in front of him. “I’m sorry, Itchik,” he interrupted. “How far did you say your home is from here?”

  As the man was answering, Riq caught a small blur racing toward them out of the corner of his eye. He turned to get a better look, and mumbled under his breath, “Dak?”

  “Nobody messes with my friends!” Dak shouted just before launching himself at the man holding the Infinity Ring. They both fell to the ground, and the Ring went flying through the air. Riq instinctively dove out into the rain to try to catch it, but the Ring landed just beyond his reach with a thud.

  “The Ring!” Sera screamed.

  Riq quickly scooped it up and looked it over. It was slightly dented on one side and muddy. The screen was blank. He watched Sera position herself between Dak and the man he’d just attacked. “What in the name of mincemeat do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Protecting you guys,” Dak said.

  “Protecting us? From what?”

  “These Mayan Time Wardens!” Dak pointed at the three men.

  Sera slapped a hand against her forehead.

  Riq ducked back under the overhang, dripping wet. “They came out here to help us, not
hurt us!” he shouted at Dak over the storm. “Itchik here was just offering to lead us to shelter.”

  “And how do you know it’s not a trap?” Dak shouted back.

  Itchik turned to Riq with a look of confusion. “What does the small boy mean ‘a trap’?”

  Riq sighed. “Honestly, it’s best if you just ignore the small boy,” he said.

  Violent thunder echoed through the entire village.

  “The storm!” one of the other Mayan men shouted over the increasing winds. “It is nearing the village! We must go inside immediately!”

  “Please,” Itchik said. “Come with us.”

  Riq handed the Ring back to Sera, who looked it over. “Well, let’s hope it still works,” she said, slipping it back into her satchel.

  Riq and Sera were both staring at Dak.

  “What?” he said.

  The noise of the storm made it impossible to communicate.

  Everyone kept quiet as the Mayas led Riq, Sera, and Dak through the bustling village. Many people seemed to be headed in the opposite direction, which worried Riq. Maybe they were following the wrong men. But when they stopped in front of an especially large stone hut, he saw other groups of Mayan families hunkering down in neighboring huts, too.

  Itchik and his men quickly unlatched the front door and stepped inside, motioning for Riq and the others to enter.

  “But we’re sopping wet,” Riq said, indicating his dripping, muddy clothes and the puddles forming around his feet.

  “This does not matter,” Itchik said. “Please, you must join us inside.”

  As they wrung out their clothes by the door, Riq peered around the inside of the hut. He trusted Itchik and his friends, but he also couldn’t shake the memory of what had happened in 1850, when SQ slave traders had masqueraded as Hystorian allies. His eyes went immediately to a cluster of Mayas huddled together in the middle of the room, singing. Based on the lyrics, Riq gathered that their song was directed at some type of rain god. He studied their faces, which showed both fear and awe for the storm.

  A girl around his age suddenly turned and met his eyes. She was still singing with everyone else, but he noticed a slight raise at the corners of her mouth. This subtle smile made him feel that he was safe inside the hut. But it also made him feel something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  The girl turned back to the group just as Dak whispered, “Guys, listen to me. I don’t think they’re Time Wardens.”

  Sera patted him on the back. “Whatever gives you that idea, Dak? Is it because that’s what we just told you outside? Or is it the fact that they basically rescued us from a tropical storm?”

  “And brought us into their home,” Riq added.

  Dak frowned at Riq and turned back to Sera. “Look, I’m sorry I damaged the Ring, okay? But I saw these guys huddled around you, and one of them was holding the Ring, and I just sort of freaked.”

  Sera sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix it,” she said. “I’ll fix it.”

  “At least I figured out what time we’re in,” Dak said. “Approximately. We’re definitely in the seventh century, not 1562. We were off by less than a millennium.”

  “That part is my fault,” Sera whispered. “Although I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

  “I’m still not convinced landing here was a mistake,” Riq replied. “Maybe there’s something important happening here, too. Like, what if this storm is somehow connected to the riddle?”

  “Oh, oh, oh.” Dak was suddenly so excited he was jumping up and down. “I meant to tell you guys. I saw something important inside the observatory. You won’t believe this. Seriously.”

  “Go on,” Sera said. “Spit it out.”

  But before Dak could say another word, Itchik clapped his hands together and called to them. “Friends, please join us in our small ceremony. We are asking the gods not to wash away our crops. And for a safe passage here for our neighbors from Calakmul, who are to come and study our discoveries.”

  Riq motioned for Sera and Dak to follow him toward the middle of the room. As they walked, Dak said softly, “I’ll tell you guys about the observatory later. It could be part of the riddle, though. Also, I have a new theory about these people. I think they might be Hystorians.”

  “They’re not Hystorians,” Riq said, turning around.

  “How do you know?”

  “We sort of asked them already,” Sera said. “Indirectly, of course.”

  Dak shook his head. “No, I definitely think they’re Hystorians. Why else would they be so much nicer than the history books portray them?”

  Riq tuned out of the rest of Dak and Sera’s whispered conversation. He was too busy testing a theory of his own. He stared at the Mayan girl who had smiled at him, willing her to turn and look at him one more time. He needed to see how he reacted.

  It took a few seconds, but she finally did turn to him, still singing, and looked directly into his eyes. And she gave him another smile, too — a real one this time.

  Riq’s suspicions were confirmed.

  The second their eyes locked, that strange feeling returned to his stomach. It was almost like a Remnant, but better, somehow. A good kind of queasiness. What did it mean? Whatever the answer, it was unlike anything Riq had ever felt before.

  WHILE EVERYONE else was chanting to the Mayan rain deity, Chaac, Sera was quietly experiencing the most profound Remnant of her entire life. Her stomach was twisted in knots. She clenched her teeth and cringed at the familiar iron taste flooding her mouth. She felt so dizzy she had to plant both hands firmly on the dirt floor next to where she sat.

  Dak and Riq were totally unaware. They’d just been taught the simple refrain and had joined the Mayas in their chanting. The man who called himself Itchik was the only one who seemed to notice Sera’s distress. Thankfully, he wasn’t calling attention to it.

  Sera was all too familiar with Remnants — the feeling that something was missing, that if history had unfolded in a slightly different way she’d be living her real life instead of this shadow version. Back home, she’d often walk past her barn and suddenly be overwhelmed by the sense that her parents, who she’d never known, were inside, tending to a trio of beautiful Thoroughbreds. But when she pulled open the door, she’d find the barn completely empty.

  Her Remnants had grown stronger since they started traveling through time, but this was by far the most powerful one she had experienced. She took deep, even breaths, wondering why now. During a storm. Surrounded by Mayas.

  When the Remnant finally passed, Sera let out a relieved sigh and resumed halfheartedly mouthing the chant with everyone else. She noted how intensely the storm was hammering down on the roof above them, the sound echoing throughout the cavernous hut. She studied the worried look on all the faces around her. The storm was much more severe than she had thought it would be — though it was nothing compared to what she remembered of the Cataclysm.

  After a few more minutes, Itchik raised a hand and the chanting ceased.

  “Young visitors from a faraway place,” he said, “I would like to welcome you to our village and introduce you to my people.” He proceeded to rattle off several Mayan names that Sera knew she’d never remember — especially on the heels of such a powerful Remnant. There were three separate Mayan families, each with several children. There were a few stooped elders, too. The only name that stuck in Sera’s head was “Kisa,” the girl who was a few years older than Sera and very pretty.

  Itchik turned to his people and said, “And this is Riq, Sera, and . . . I’m sorry, I don’t believe I ever learned the name of the smaller boy.”

  “I’m not that small!” Dak fired back.

  “It’s a pleasure meeting everyone,” Riq blurted out.

  Sera leaned over to Dak and whispered, “Try to keep in mind that if it wasn’t for them, we’d be out there gettin
g pummeled by this storm.”

  Dak turned to Itchik. “The name’s Dak Smyth, sir dude.”

  “Very good,” Itchik said. “My family and I would like to welcome all of you to our home.”

  “Welcome,” everyone else said together.

  One of the women unpacked a small stack of asymmetrical tortilla-looking things and passed them out to everyone. Sera didn’t realize how hungry she was until she started eating the corn-based bread.

  Minutes later, there was a loud crashing sound on the roof, and everyone looked up. “What was that?” the girl named Kisa said.

  “The storm still grows,” one of the elders explained. “Trees are now blowing over.”

  Two small girls began to cry quietly and ducked under the arms of their mother.

  “Don’t be scared,” the elder said. “Chaac is looking over us.”

  Itchik turned to Sera, Dak, and Riq and said, “From where have you traveled, friends? You certainly don’t look like our neighbors to the north or south.” He paused for a second and pointed at Sera. “With the exception of the girl.”

  “I’m definitely not your neighbor,” she snapped.

  Riq shot her a look.

  Sera shrugged. Even Riq would have to admit that associating her with the Maya didn’t make sense. And back in second grade, during a lesson on lost civilizations, stupid Sylvia Walker had drawn a stick figure of a girl sitting on top of a Mayan temple next to the caption Sera’s great-great-great-grandmother. The kids all laughed and asked if her mom packed a thermos full of goat blood in her lunch.

  There was a reason Sera was so sensitive.

  “Where are we from?” Dak echoed. He had a big grin on his face, which told Sera she should be extremely worried. “That’s an interesting question, Itchy.”

  “Itchik,” Riq corrected.

  Dak winked at Sera and Riq and turned back to the Mayan man.

  “We come from a place far, far away. . . . I believe you know what I’m saying.”