[Time Hunters 01.0] The Time Hunters

by carl ashmore

Uncle Percy took a step forward. ‘Good morning, sir. I’m Percy Halifax. My friends and I mean you, your king or your country no harm, and would like to -’

  ‘SILENCE!’ Helladius roared. Then he slapped Uncle Percy brutally across the face.

  Becky gasped with horror.

  Will made to launch himself at Helladius, when Uncle Percy’s hand pulled him back.

  ‘No, Will!’ Raising himself to his full height, he pivoted back to face Helladius. ‘Now that wasn’t particularly friendly, was it?’

  Straightaway, Helladius hit him again. A thick smear of blood dampened Uncle Percy’s bottom lip.

  ‘Leave him alone,’ Becky yelled.

  Helladius swung toward her. ‘Silence, girl! Lest I show you the back of my hand.’

  Will had heard enough. ‘It takes a big man to threaten a young girl. And there are few bigger than you. Or uglier.’

  Helladius turned menacingly to Will. ‘You are a brave fool to offend me, stranger.’

  ‘Then let me be a stranger no more. I am Will Shakelock, and if you touch any of my friends again you will not see another sun rise.’

  At once, Helladius threw a mallet-like fist at Will.

  With lightning speed, Will caught it and, teeth gritted, crushed it powerfully in his grip.

  Helladius howled.

  Will heaved the huge man close and leaned coolly into his ear. ‘Wail like a newborn all you will. It matters not how many men you have in your little army, you will not harm my friends again. Do you understand?’

  Eyes streaming, Helladius’ legs buckled and he tumbled to his knees, simpering. At the same time, a soldier raced behind Will.

  ‘Will!’ Becky yelled. ‘Behind you.’ But it was too late. Lifting his sword high, the soldier smashed its hilt on to Will’s skull. Will fell, clutching the back of his head.

  Clasping his swollen hand, Helladius got to his feet, glared fiercely at Will before kicking him in the face.

  ‘Please,’ Becky cried. ‘No.’

  Helladius rounded on the floored Will. ‘A quick death would be too easy for you,’ he growled, although his voice lacked conviction. ‘It pleases me the last thing you will smell will be the Minotaur’s rotten breath as it feasts on your innards.’

  Uncle Percy’s expression changed. For a moment, even Becky forgot her fear and stared at Joe with disbelief. The Minotaur?

  ‘Timaeus, Perticus - bind him,’ Helladius bellowed. ‘Bind them all. The King will appreciate our spoils, and the Minotaur will welcome fresh meat.’

  A few soldiers leapt from their horses, coils of rope in their hands. They approached the Argonauts who offered themselves freely. Becky watched horrified as a guard tied Uncle Percy’s wrists behind his back. Then Timaeus and Perticus bound a dazed Will.

  Becky froze as a thickset guard approached her and Joe. He smirked cruelly and lifted them on to his horse.

  ‘My cane,’ Uncle Percy said to Helladius. ‘I need my cane...’

  Helladius picked up the staff. In one swift movement, the cane shattered across his knee. ‘You have no cane.’ Then he threw himself onto his warhorse. ‘The King will be pleased,’ he shouted, fat globs of saliva showering his horse’s ears. ‘TO KNOSSOS…’

  - Chapter 20 -

  Dungeons and Dragoons

  A golden sun inched over the mountains as the party marched into the mouth of Andrana’s Valley. Becky watched as Uncle Percy trudged on. He looked surprisingly at peace, content even. She couldn’t understand it. What was he thinking? It almost looked as if their capture had been a part of some master plan. But he couldn’t have planned it. Could he?

  ‘What are we going to do?’ Joe asked Becky. ‘Did you hear that nutter mention the Minotaur? It’s real. I know it is.’

  Becky said nothing. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  ‘I’m worried,’ Joe said quietly.

  ‘Well don’t be,’ Becky replied. ‘Uncle Percy isn’t worried, so I don’t think we should.’

  ‘Yeah, but he’s deranged.’ He looked at his uncle who had begun to chunter happily to himself. ‘He’ll be more bothered about spotting a pink Blubber Frog than us being captured by a hairy psychopath. Anyway, what’s the Omega Effect?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The Omega Effect. I heard Uncle Percy mention it. What is it?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’

  ‘Well it must be something. And how come I don’t know about it?’

  ‘He trusts me more than you,’ Becky said. ‘He thinks you’ve got a big gob.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’

  ‘Okay, he doesn’t, but I do. Now, shut up!’

  They had been marching for more than an hour when they came to the Grey Mountains. Although it was perhaps a mile to their left, Becky could see Hypatia Point clearly. As she looked for the olive grove, she found herself wondering - would the traveller be there, waiting for Jason to deliver her safely? Did he know the assassination attempt failed? Was he watching them right now?

  The temperature rose and the Argonauts were wilting as the party left Andrana’s Valley and entered a desert of green scrub and fine sand. Then Becky saw something that left her breathless. In the distance, rising into the sky like a mirage, stood a colossal pearl-white structure: Knossos.

  As they drew closer, Becky saw a stream of ox-drawn carts being steered through an archway, standing atop of which was a giant stone Bull’s head; its painted yellow eyes appeared to follow them as they approached the towering city walls. Once through the arch, Becky felt a knot form in her stomach. They were in a vast courtyard full to bursting with hundreds of people, gathered for an outdoor market. She watched an old, craggy-faced woman in a ragged smock chase a runaway chicken that squawked loudly in a fruitless bid for freedom. Peering over at Helladius, whose red, pitiless face was sopping with sweat, she thought the chicken stood a better chance of getting it than they did.

  Then something caught her eye: a face that didn’t fit. A slender man wearing a dark cloak with an oddly fair complexion studied them intently. She looked over to see if Uncle Percy had seen him, but he was too busy saying ‘Good Morning’ to the bemused onlookers to notice anything. By the time she looked back, the man had gone, consumed by the jostling crowd.

  *

  They passed through a smaller archway into a quiet square. Helladius dismounted and turned to the guard on his right. ‘Eustathious, take this scum to the dungeons. I will meet with the King and enquire as to his wishes.’

  Helladius stood before them, his legs wide apart as he drew a wheezy breath that caused his massive stomach to rise above his belt. ‘Do not get accustomed to the comfort of your cell. I am hopeful to see you dead before nightfall.’ He disappeared into a five-tiered building.

  Becky assumed they were at the Palace, for it was, without question, the most imposing structure within the city walls.

  Eustathious leapt from his horse. ‘PRISONERS, FOLLOW ME!’ He marched to a smaller building to the rear of the courtyard.

  They were guided through the dungeon entrance, down a series of steps, into a tunnel lit by flickering torches. Muffled laughter could be heard from the market above.

  Becky turned to see the Argonauts, their heads bowed, plod down the steps. She heard Theseus mumbling about how he should have been in charge in the first place and if Hercules didn’t stop whining he would punch him in the face. As they entered the cells, she saw a short, grubby-looking man, a few strands of wiry hair poking out of his bald head, his chest damp with grime and sweat. He was sitting on a stone slab, a plump finger inserted up his nose.

  Even Eustathious appeared to think the gaoler was revolting and avoided eye contact when speaking to him. ‘Prisoners, Galdeus.’

  The gaoler pulled his finger from his nostril and wiped it on his shoulder. Then he stood up, his back hunched and burped.

  ‘Ooh, lovely fresh prisoners,’ Galdeus wheezed, unhooking a set of wooden keys from his belt. ‘They look tasty. The Minotaur will feast well.’ He threw t
hem a toothless smile, and nodded at Becky. ‘Especially on your pretty bones …’

  Becky turned away. What a scumbag.

  Galdeus turned toward a rear door and hobbled into an antechamber. ‘Follow me.’

  They found themselves in an airless room that contained a wide iron-barred grille that framed the entrance to a narrow cell. With a grunt, Galdeus slid it open and gestured for them to enter, cutting them free as they passed.

  ‘Most kind,’ Uncle Percy said, twisting his freed wrists. ‘Galdeus, about this Minotaur, it wouldn’t happen to live in a tunnel round here, would it?’

  ‘It dwells in the Maze of Kyros, far beneath the ground.’ Galdeus smirked. ‘Only Daedalus’ Gate, at the Maze’s mouth, prevents the beast from rising and devouring us all. You will not be so lucky.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘How do we get to the gate?’

  Galdeus gave a cruel laugh. ‘You will see the gate soon enough. The Minotaur is owed a feed, and the King dare not disappoint. There is no doubt … Death is coming for you.’

  ‘Terrific,’ Uncle Percy said brightly. ‘We’ve all got to go sometime.’

  ‘Mock all you will, stranger.’ He slammed the grill shut. ‘Will you jest when the beast has the girl’s head between its teeth?’ He locked the padlock, broke wind loudly and left the room.

  ‘Charming fellow…’ Uncle Percy said.

  As a tense stillness cloaked the cell, the gravity of the situation occurred to Becky. Twenty-four hours ago, she would have dismissed the idea of an actual Minotaur as nonsense, but after the Harpies she wasn’t sure of anything. And what if they didn’t survive? Her mum wouldn’t even have an explanation as to where they were, or what had happened.

  For the next ten minutes no one said a word. Will paced round the cell like a caged animal; Becky and Joe sat making circles with their toes on the floor.

  Uncle Percy, on the other hand, wore a bemused smile as if it was all an amusing game. Upon noticing Joe’s anxious expression, he turned and said, ‘Don’t worry, Joe. I’ve been in considerably worse scrapes than this and always managed to get out of them in one piece.’

  ‘Oh yeah, like what?’ Becky snapped. Sometimes her uncle’s constant optimism was really quite annoying.

  Uncle Percy paused for a moment. ‘Let me see - well, many years ago, Malcolm, Bernard and I, celebrated our graduation by going on a little jaunt to 1686 to visit King James II court. Malcolm always nursed an ambition to be a Royal Dragoon guard, you see.’ He smiled fondly. ‘Anyway, our costumes were perfect, our boots polished, our muskets gleaming. We thought we really looked the part, and, of course, we were young and convinced we wouldn’t be caught.’

  ‘What happened?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Caught within ten minutes,’ Uncle Percy chuckled. ‘By a rather grumpy Captain named Edward Blakely. Thinking we were spies for William of Orange, he imprisoned us as traitors. Anyway, we contacted the Trackers and they rescued us that very afternoon.’

  ‘Trackers?’ Becky said, puzzled. ‘What are Trackers?’

  ‘Oh, they’re an invaluable part of GITT operations. A rescue service for time travellers. If, on a registered trip, a traveller finds himself or herself in trouble then they contact GITT headquarters with their pagidizor, and a team of Trackers is dispatched to give assistance.’

  ‘What’s a pagidizor?’ Becky asked.

  ‘Well, it’s nothing spectacular to look at, rather like a calculator,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But, in fact, it’s a most ingenious piece of kit. When pressed, the pagidizor engages a series of temporal waves that stimulates sequential displacement and emits what we call a spatial flare.’

  ‘Uh?’ Becky grunted.

  ‘Basically,’ Uncle Percy said, ‘it sends a distress signal to our time, so the Trackers can come and get you. It’s a wonderful gadget, really.’

  ‘Then use your pagidiwotsit and get us out of here.’

  ‘I can’t,’ Uncle Percy said simply. ‘It’s in Bertha. Besides, the trip isn’t registered so they wouldn’t know when to come looking for us even if I did use it.’ He smiled weakly. Sensing her despair, he injected enthusiasm into his voice. ‘But anyway, we’re not ready to go back yet, are we? We’ve still got a legendary relic to find.’

  ‘We don’t particularly want to be eaten by a dirty great monster, though,’ Becky added sullenly.

  ‘It won’t come to that, I promise. Besides, we need to get into that Maze, no matter what’s in there. Unless I’m very much mistaken, the Maze is Arthur Evans’ Labyrinth.’ Uncle Percy whispered, ‘How else will we find out more about the Theseus Disc? Furthermore, the Fleece might even be in there.’

  Becky huffed. ‘Along with a dirty great monster.’

  ‘Well, we don’t know that for sure, do we?’

  ‘Everyone around here seems pretty convinced.’

  ‘Ah, don’t worry,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘To be honest, I don’t think that the Minotaur exists for one second, history is full of mythical beasts that never existed.’

  ‘Like Harpies,’ Becky said.

  Uncle Percy’s face dropped. ‘Fair point. Anyway, if the Minotaur does exist I have come very well equipped.’ He patted his chest mysteriously. ‘You’ll just have to trust me when I say - ’

  The dungeon door opened. ‘Well, well, Percy Halifax. It looks as though you’ve landed yourself in a right old pickle, doesn’t it?’

  Even in the half-light, Becky could see Uncle Percy’s face had drained of colour as though he’d seen a ghost.

  And in a sense he had.

  - Chapter 21 -

  A Young Old Friend

  The man stepped out of the shadows.

  ‘Bernard?’ Uncle Percy said in little more than a whisper. ‘Bernard Preston?’

  ‘The very same,’ the man said. ‘Hello, my friend.’

  Becky recognised the name. Bernard Preston, the traveller who met with John Aubrey and discovered the legend of Stonehenge. The traveller that was searching for the Golden Fleece. The traveller who died at Bowen Hall just over a month ago.

  But as the torch opposite flickered on Preston’s face, Becky gave an involuntary gasp. This wasn’t possible. Preston studied at Oxford University with Uncle Percy, they would be a similar age, but this was a young man.

  ‘It’s happened, hasn’t it?’ Preston said, astonished. ‘Lockets Syndrome, I mean. I never thought I’d see it.’

  ‘I think it has.’ Uncle Percy stood silently. ‘And I’ve never seen it before either.’

  Becky stared at Joe. Lockets Syndrome?

  ‘You’re from my future aren’t you?’ Preston whispered. ‘Well, obviously you are. I only saw you last week and you were twenty six, same age as me.’

  ‘I grew old.’

  ‘So when are you from?’ Preston asked.

  ‘Let’s just say I am from your future, shall we, Bernard? The details are unimportant.’

  The Argonauts looked at each other, bewildered. Becky doubted she could explain even if she tried.

  ‘Wow!’ Bernard clapped his hands with delight. ‘It’s funny, you know. I was only saying to Emerson yesterday - what would we do if genuine Lockets Syndrome happened to us? And you know what a miserable beggar he can be … he just gave me a dismissive look as if to say it was impossible. But it’s happened. It’s really happened...’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘What are you doing here, Bernard?’

  ‘Oh, you know me. I’ve always been fascinated by Ancient Greece. I come to Knossos quite often, particularly on Saturdays, like today. It’s market day, in case you hadn’t guessed.’

  ‘I thought so.’

  Preston smiled. ‘So there I was, standing at my favourite stall, and who comes though the gate but that buffoon, Helladius, and my good friend, albeit slightly older, Percy Halifax. I couldn’t believe my eyes.’

  ‘I bet you couldn’t,’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘Anyway, I just bribed Galdeus with a packet of cheese and onion crisps a
nd he let me right in.’ Preston clapped his hands again. ‘It’s remarkable. Only last week, I made a decision to stay away from this timeline for a while, but for some reason, thought I’d visit Knossos one last time, and look what’s happened: a genuine case of Locket’s Syndrome. Anyway, that’s enough about me. What’re you doing here?’

  Uncle Percy paused. ‘We’re just having a family day trip. This is Becky and Joe, my niece and nephew. I just thought I’d show them what Crete was really like. You know, help them with their schoolwork and all that.’

  ‘Real history, eh kids?’ Preston waved at Becky and Joe. ‘I wish I’d had a time traveller for an uncle when I was a nipper. It beats reading stuffy old books, eh?’

  Becky and Joe smiled politely, although neither of them could think of anything to say.

  ‘So how come you’ve landed yourself in jail?’

  ‘Just a touch of rotten luck,’ Uncle Percy said.

  ‘Do you want me to bust you out?’ Preston asked eagerly. ‘A jailbreak would be so exciting. I can pop back to my time and get a couple of squid grenades from Charlie Millport. I wouldn’t even need to inform headquarters, he owes me a favour. I’ll have you out of here in no time at all.’

  Becky’s heart leapt. A jailbreak. However, a firm shake of Uncle Percy’s head dashed the idea.

  ‘No, thank you,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘We’re going to see the King.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Bernard said. ‘I could always round up a couple of other Otters to help. I know Steffers would definitely do it, and Malcolm, he’s always up for a rumble. Not too sure about Emerson, he doesn’t seem to like you much and Ricardo is probably swanking around as a sixteenth century conquistador somewhere, but I could try -’

  ‘No,’ Uncle Percy asserted. ‘Actually, would you do me a favour? In fact, it’s more than a favour, it’s a deeply felt appeal.’

  ‘Anything.’

  Uncle Percy took a heavy breath. ‘You must not tell a soul about our meeting. Not anyone. Do you understand?’ There was sadness in his voice. ‘I know the fact that you’ve encountered Lockets Syndrome must be desperately exciting, but, please, I beg of you, you cannot tell anyone.’