by carl ashmore
A tense air surrounded them as they said their goodbyes to Jacob and Maria (who proceeded to burst in to an uncontrollable fit of drool and tears,) and made their way to the Time Room. Uncle Percy, carrying a backpack of provisions, led the way, followed by Joe, Becky, and finally Will, who had added a bow and quiver of arrows to his arsenal.
The Time Room seemed livelier and more boisterous than usual with the sounds of bleeps and buzzes and hums at full volume. Becky saw a freshly polished Bertha standing in the centre of the room. Then something occurred to her. ‘Uncle Percy, how’re we going to talk to anyone?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Obviously, people in Ancient Crete didn’t speak English. We won’t understand a word they’re saying and they won’t understand us.’
‘An excellent point, Becky,’ Uncle Percy agreed. ‘And one that for many years caused severe headaches for the travelling community.’ He opened a drawer and pulled out an oblong box that resembled a pencil case. ‘Take a look at these …’ He opened the box.
Becky leant over and saw a series of shiny metal nodules, each one no bigger than the head of a small drawing pin.
‘These are transvocalisors,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘I invented the prototypes over twenty-five years ago. Now, I’m proud to say, they’re an essential part of the traveller’s kit. Let me put them on for you.’
He placed one on Becky’s throat and one behind her left ear. He repeated the process for Joe.
‘What’s a transvocalingy?’ Joe asked.
Uncle Percy passed a pair to Will, and then put a pair on himself. ‘A transvocalisor, Joe, well, it’s a very powerful translation device. Inside each transvocalisor is a very powerful microchip that, with regards to the one on your ear, will translate any language, ancient or modern, into English for you; whilst the one on your throat will automatically convert anything you say into whatever language you need. In short, you will both understand, and be understood wherever and whenever you are.’
Becky immediately decided to secretly borrow a set for her French exams the following year.
‘Right then, shall we make a move?’ Uncle Percy took a wedge of Gerathnium and inserted it in to the campervan. Becky and Joe clambered aboard.
‘Are you going to register the trip?’ Becky said, sounding slightly anxious.
Opening the driver’s door, Uncle Percy tossed the bag and staff into the back. ‘Not this time, Becky. I’m aware it’s not an ideal situation, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to break a few rules.’ Will joined him up front.
‘But what if something happens to us?’ Becky asked.
Joe shot Becky a disparaging look. ‘Like what - you losing a scrunchie?’
‘I don’t know,’ Becky snapped back at him. ‘An emergency! What if the campervan packs up? What if we need to get back in a hurry? What if something massive and hairy bites your fat ugly head off?’ She sounded quite hopeful with her last example.
‘Now, now, we’ll have less of that,’ Uncle Percy cut in firmly. ‘Charlie Millport at HQ knows where and when we’re going - off the record, of course. I’ve also left details with Jacob. He knows what to do if there’s a problem. Does that reassure you, Becky?’
Becky nodded but still felt rather uneasy. After all, they weren’t the only ones searching for the Golden Fleece, and their rivals were pretty much as dangerous as could be. However, before she could reply, a power surge from below stopped her in her tracks.
‘Okay, everyone … next stop, Crete, 1634 BC,’ Uncle Percy shouted, his voice swelling to counteract the mounting volume.
‘And the Minotaurs,’ Joe shouted back, grinning widely.
‘Im afraid you may be disappointed there, Joe,’ Uncle Percy answered with a grin. ‘There’ll be no dragons - no bogeymen - no fabulous monsters of any kind. But, with any luck, we may find some answers...’
- Chapter 14 -
Harpy Attack
Bertha materialised on a dusty path in the middle of a narrow ravine. Immediately, Becky felt a blistering heat envelop them. She looked through the window and saw towering bleached white rocks, a thousand foot high, on either side.
‘Andrana’s Valley,’ Uncle Percy said, marveling at the natural spectacle. ‘It’s an outstanding example of -’ He glanced in the wing mirror and cut short his sentence. ‘Blimey!’
Becky heard the shock in his voice. She whipped her head round and her mouth dropped open.
A gangly boy was hurtling toward them, his sweat drenched face etched with terror. Two huge winged creatures were chasing him, taking it in turns to swoop down.
Becky screamed.
Instinctively, Will grabbed his bow and quiver and seized the door handle. Uncle Percy pulled him back. ‘No, Will!’ The boy veered past the campervan, too frightened or perhaps disorientated to notice it.
‘W-what are they?’ Joe hollered.
‘Well - err -’ Uncle Percy spluttered. ‘My - err - knowledge of Greek Mythology is somewhat limited, but I believe they might be -’ He slammed his foot down and Bertha sped off.
‘- They’re the Harpies!’ Becky yelled, recalling the story of the Golden Fleece.
Uncle Percy fought to control the wheel. ‘It seems so.’
Becky glared at Uncle Percy. ‘No monsters, eh?’
Before Uncle Percy could reply - CRAAASH - the larger of the two Harpies collided with them, momentarily knocking Bertha off her wheels.
As she clutched the handrail desperately, Becky’s gaze locked on the window. The larger Harpy had moved parallel to them. It was as long as the campervan, with gigantic scaly wings, a deep green leathery torso, and the face of a disfigured old woman. Two muscular arms tipped with curved claws hung down as it thrashed the air.
Becky’s blood turned to ice as the Harpy’s eyes found her. A wicked grin curled on its mouth.
Petrified, Becky’s fingers inched to her lucky pendant, when - CRAASH - the second Harpy struck the van from the opposite side, throwing her headfirst to the floor. She landed hard, blood filling her mouth.
Uncle Percy wrestled Bertha to the left. Immediately, the Harpies took to the air, disappearing from sight.
Uncle Percy scanned the skies. Nothing. Slowing down, he drove toward the boy. ‘Becky, open the door!’
‘Are you bonkers?’ Becky yelled at him, scrambling back to her seat.
‘Open the door,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Grab the boy!’
With trembling hands, Becky slid the door open.
Uncle Percy weaved over to the boy, whose pace had slowed to a jog. ‘Get in,’ he shouted. ‘You’ll be safe!’
Dazed, the boy stared at the campervan, wide-eyed.
‘Here. Take this,’ Joe said, extending his hand.
Disorientated, the boy was about to take it when -SHRIIIEEEEK – a sickening howl rang out. From nowhere, Talons seized the boy’s tunic, lifting him off his feet. He squirmed and wriggled, but it was no use. The larger Harpy had got him and was ascending.
‘Drive under the boy,’ Will insisted.
Uncle Percy whipped Bertha to the right as Will scooped up his bow.
‘What’re you -’ But before Uncle Percy could finish, Will had heaved open the door. In one acrobatic movement, he hurled himself on to the roof. Steadying himself, he loaded two arrows onto his bowstring, and aimed at the Harpy above. He fired. The two arrows, separated in mid air, and pierced the Harpy’s thick arms. It screeched and dropped its haul. The boy crashed on to the roof.
Will knelt beside him. ‘Are your injuries severe?’
‘N-no, sire,’ the boy whimpered.
‘Then forgive me.’ Will grabbed the boy’s shoulders and threw him through the open door, safely on to the seat. Then he slammed the door shut.
‘What’s he doing?’ Becky cried with disbelief.
Will looked up at the circling Harpies. With a screech, the injured Harpy attacked, swooping down at him, its rotted teeth bared. Will fixed another arrow to the bowstring. He fired again. This time, the
arrow pierced the Harpy’s breastbone. It howled in agony and swerved away.
The second Harpy hung in mid air for a second. Then pounced. Will reached for another arrow, but there wasn’t time. Claws stabbed his shoulders and blood showered his face. Heaved into the air, he dropped the bow. The wounded Harpy joined its companion. Together, they let out a jubilant wail and flew off into the canyon, carrying their prize.
‘They’ve got Will!’ Becky shouted hysterically. ‘Uncle Percy. Do something!’
‘Oh, I intend to,’ Uncle Percy said coolly. He powered Bertha in the direction of the canyon. ‘Joe, my staff, please.’
Confused, Joe scooped up the walking staff and passed it over.
‘Here, take the wheel,’ Uncle Percy said to the boy, who complied though it was clear he had no idea what to do.
Keeping his foot firmly on the accelerator, Uncle Percy leaned from the open window. Holding the cane with his left hand, his right hand inched toward the grip. He aimed at the Harpy holding Will. BOOM - a laser blast erupted from the cane.
Becky and Joe stared at each other, astounded. Uncle Percy had a weapon!
The blast slammed into the cliff; giant hunks of rock rained down onto scorched earth.
BOOM. Uncle Percy fired again, this time missing Will by a matter of inches.
‘Stop it. You’ll hit him!’ Becky yelled.
Uncle Percy looked quite put out. He paused for a moment, pulled the staff inside and muttered, ‘Sadly, Becky, you’re almost certainly right.’
*
The Harpies rose higher and higher. Through blurred eyes, Will saw Bertha in the distance. The higher the Harpy carried him, the less chance he’d survive. He knew that. Slowly, pain scorching his shoulders, he edged his sword from its scabbard. The blade glistened in the blazing sun. He took a deep lungful of air and thrust upwards, burying the blade deep into the beast’s underbelly. Blood smothered his hands. The Harpy gave a hideous squeal. It released him. He fell.
Twenty-five feet.
Twenty-feet.
Fifteen-feet.
Suddenly, pointed branches tore at his skin. More pain shot through him as a tree slowed his descent. Flung from branch to branch, he landed with a dull thump on the unyielding earth. Struggling to his knees, bleeding, battered, he watched the Harpy thrash wildly in agony as it crashed to the ground. Dead.
The second Harpy saw its lifeless companion then pivoted toward Will. With a blood-curdling shriek, it thundered toward him.
Calmly, Will closed his eyes and waited for impact.
- Chapter 15 -
Phineus
‘Hold on to something!’ Uncle Percy bellowed, pressing a large scarlet button on Bertha’s dashboard.
At once, a rumbling sound echoed throughout the van.
Becky had heard the sound once before. An ultra-booster. Her heart pounded as she watched Uncle Percy aim the campervan at the charging Harpy. Then they raced off like a missile.
Becky didn’t have time to shut her eyes when - SMAASSSSH – the campervan ploughed into its target, shuddering violently as metal crunched bone. The Harpy was pitched into the cliff-face, its body landing in a twisted, motionless heap.
Uncle Percy swung Bertha round and slammed on the brakes. He leapt from the driver’s door and sprinted over to Will. ‘Are you all right, Will?’
‘Aye,’ Will replied, his hand pressed firmly against his left shoulder. Uncle Percy removed the hand carefully to reveal a deep gash. He examined it closely. ‘I can fix it.’ Jumping to his feet, he raced back to the campervan.
Becky rushed over, Joe close behind, his face colourless.
‘Will!’ Becky said softly, dropping to her knees. ‘Are you -’
‘I am fine, child.’ Will watched as tears formed in Becky’s eyes. ‘Worry not. This is nothing your uncle cannot heal.’
A moment later, Uncle Percy returned clutching a bottle of orange liquid and what looked like an electric toothbrush. ‘Now, this might hurt a tad, Will.’ He switched on the device. It hummed faintly and a glittering blue beam shot from its tip.
Becky and Joe watched helplessly as Uncle Percy ensured the light crossed every cut, every graze, every bruise, before applying thick drops of the liquid. After a few minutes he looked up, satisfied. ‘He’ll be fine.’
After setting Will in the shade to rest, Uncle Percy returned to the boy, who was looking more bewildered than ever. ‘I’m Percy Halifax,’ he said with a kindly smile. ‘This is Becky and Joe. And that man over there is Will Shakelock. We are visitors to these shores and mean you no harm.’
The boy returned a feeble smile. After a few uncomfortable moments where Becky thought the transvocalisors had been damaged, he spoke in a rather edgy squeak. ‘I - I am Phineus of Athens.’
‘A pleasure to meet you, Phineus,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Would you care for some water?’
Phineus nodded. ‘Please, yes, water.’
Uncle Percy returned a moment later with a plastic water bottle. Phineus’ face turned white. ‘What kind of sorcery is this?’
‘It’s quite all right, Phineus,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘It’s what we call plastic. Where we come from plastic is very common.’
Phineus eyed the container warily. Hesitantly, he took a drink.
‘So, Phineus, do your parents live around here?’
‘My parents are with the Gods,’ Phineus replied. ‘Like you, I am not of this place. Our boat is moored here.’
‘Your boat?’
‘The Argo … alas, she suffered damage passing the Clashing Rocks of Izos, my comrades are making repairs whilst I explore the island. I was gathering olives when the sky-beasts attacked.’
But Becky only heard the first two words: The Argo. The Argo was Jason’s legendary boat in the quest for the Golden Fleece. Uncle Percy clearly couldn’t believe it either. ‘The Argo – so you’re an Argonaut?’
‘I am,’ Phineus replied proudly.
‘And the captain of your ship is … Jason?’
Phineus looked surprised. ‘You know of my master?’
‘Only by reputation.’
‘As you should.’ Phineus’ chest ballooned with pride. ‘He is a remarkable man, a great leader and a fierce warrior. I doubt whether there is a braver man in the breadth of Mycenae.’
‘Will you take us to him?’
Phineus took a side-ways glance at the dead Harpies. ‘Well -’ he bowed his head. ‘- I owe you my life. It is the very least I can do.’
Uncle Percy turned to Becky, a glint in his eyes. She smiled back. They had been blessed with the most extraordinary luck. According to legend, Jason, the Argo, the Argonauts, and the Golden Fleece were inextricably linked. And, although she knew Uncle Percy rarely found truth in legends - well, perhaps this time could be the exception.
Perhaps this was more than coincidence.
*
Uncle Percy decided they would need a substantial lunch, and Will a few hours convalescence, before they set off to meet the Argonauts. And as Becky protested at eating beside two fly-ridden Harpy corpses, they drove deep into Andrana’s Valley, stopping beside a shallow brook.
After lunch, Uncle Percy conducted safety checks on Bertha to ensure everything was in working order. As he did this, Phineus wandered over and began to study Bertha’s damaged bodywork, his eyes filled with wonder.
‘What manner of chariot is this?’ Phineus asked.
‘It’s a new model,’ Uncle Percy said cagily. ‘They’ll be all the rage this time next year.’
‘But how does it move?’ Phineus asked. ‘There are no horses.’
Uncle Percy thought it would be pointless to explain the finer details of automotive engineering. ‘Oh, there are horses. They’re actually underneath.’
‘Underneath?’ Phineus said incredulously. ‘But what breed are they?’
Uncle Percy checked he was out of earshot. ‘They’re a British breed: Devonshire Bunny Horses.’
‘My Uncle Alpheos was a breeder of horses,’ Phineu
s replied. ‘I thought I knew all varieties of the creature. But I have never heard of a Devon-shire Bunny Horse.’
‘Well, they’re rare,’ Uncle Percy replied unconvincingly. ‘Even in Devon.’
Phineus nodded. ‘But how are they harnessed beneath such a - ’
‘Oh, its not hard. They’re actually very small,’ Uncle Percy interrupted. ‘No bigger than rabbits, hence the name…’
‘How many are there?’
Uncle Percy was blushing now. ‘Ten.’
Phineus fell to the ground, keen to examine the van’s undercarriage. ‘Where are they?’
‘Oh, you won’t be able to see them,’ Uncle Percy said, heaving a disappointed Phineus back to his feet. ‘When I start the chariot, their legs lower and they start running. They have incredibly long legs for such tiny things.’
‘May I see one?’
‘I’m afraid they don’t respond well to strangers. They’re likely to bite.’
‘Bite?’
‘Oh, yes, this breed is renowned for its nipping. They have very sharp teeth.’
‘Perhaps they would be happier if they ran free.’
‘Ah, that would be bad. They hate sunlight, you see. It sends them into a violent frenzy. If I set them free it could turn very nasty. A bloodbath! I’ll let them out tonight when it’s dark.’
Phineus looked sad. ‘Perhaps that would be best.’
Uncle Percy gave a loud sigh of relief.
By the time it came to leave, Will had made an excellent recovery. In fact, it had been a pleasant few hours, the only sobering moment occurred when Phineus examined Uncle Percy’s cane and nearly blew his head off. But after the panic had faded, they left feeling refreshed and ready for their trip to the coast.
*
However, what none of them had realised was that since their arrival on Crete, an enormous black bird had been following them, studying their every move. And, as the campervan disappeared from sight, the bird’s pitch-black eyes snapped shut. The ambo-processor in its head had stopped recording - its homing device had been activated.
