by carl ashmore
‘It’s covered in strange symbols,’ Becky said. ‘We think they might be Atlantean words. Could you translate them?’
Edgar was too lost in his own thoughts to reply. ‘Where is the Tablet now?’
‘Uncle Percy’s got it,’ Joe replied.
Without hesitation, Edgar’s gigantic fingers curled around a remote device at the side of his bed. Almost immediately, three laser beams shot out of the hologram receiver set on the floor, converged overhead, and morphed into an instantly recognizable form.
‘Is everything all right, Edgar?’ Uncle Percy asked anxiously.
It was then Becky noticed something quite unexpected. Standing behind Uncle Percy, deep concern etched on his rosy-cheeked face, was Charles Butterby; he was studying something that looked like a rectangular block of wood, painted a deep red. The instant he noticed the Hologramophone was working, however, he looked shocked and quickly pulled the block from sight.
‘Smashing,’ Edgar replied. ‘You never mentioned you’d found the Gadeirus Tablet.’
‘I didn’t want to over excite you,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I thought it might –’
‘Would you be so kind as to let me see it?’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely,’ Edgar replied. ‘If what you say is true, you are in possession of a quite exceptional object. I’d give my left horn to see it…’
‘I don’t think that’s necessary.’ And with that, Uncle Percy’s hologram vanished.
Becky glanced at Joe. There was a lengthy silence where no one said a word.
Finally, it was Edgar who spoke. ‘The Gadeirus Tablet has always held the utmost fascination for me …’ He blew out a high-pitched squall of air. ‘According to legend it has not been seen for over six millennia, and the - ’
His words were cut short by the appearance of a flickering bead of light, which expanded outwards like a raindrop on a puddle. With a blinding flash and a loud crack, Uncle Percy appeared beside the bed, the Gadeirus Tablet tucked firmly beneath his arm. He looked at Edgar, held out the tablet and smiled. ‘Is this what you want?’
‘It is,’ Edgar replied in an unsteady voice. Reaching over, he took the tablet and stared at it with the intensity of a father gazing upon a newborn child. Instantly, his face looked younger, his eyes were bright and fierce with life; the cuts on his face seemed to vanish, replaced by a blushing, healthy glow. Gently, his fingers traced every symbol, every groove. ‘If only my grandfather were alive to see it…’
Becky’s heart soared. Edgar looked himself again. ‘Is it written in Atlantean? Can you translate it?’
Edgar’s mouth broke into a grin as his eyes found hers. ‘You may have to give me some time, but yes, it is written in Atlantean, and fortunately I was taught it as a Calfan. My grandfather insisted upon it.’ His eyes returned to the tablet and he began to laugh. ‘Lordy, I never thought I’d read its kind again.’
‘What does it say?’ Joe asked eagerly.
Edgar took some time before he spoke again. ‘I believe it’s a riddle.’ In silence, he studied the markings for a further few minutes, making strange squeaks every now and again as he considered his translation. Finally, a look of satisfaction crossed his face and he whispered, ‘I think I’ve done it.’
‘Go on then,’ Joe said hastily. ‘What does it say?’
Edgar cleared his throat.
‘I breathe and I roar
But I have no mouth
I only move north
But never south
I have no toes
But fingers galore
And if you catch me
You’ll catch no more
So track the Salamander
If you so dare
And pass beyond me
To Poseidon’s lair’
Becky felt her body tingle with anticipation. Eager to solve it, she played the words through in her head, time and again: I breathe … only move north … fingers galore … you’ll catch no more. It didn’t take long before an answer appeared. She looked at Uncle Percy, who beamed back at her with a boyish glee.
‘Have you solved the riddle, Becky?’ he asked in a way that suggested he already knew the answer.
‘I think so.’
‘Care to share your thoughts?’
‘It’s fire,’ Becky said confidently. ‘I think the answer’s fire.’
Uncle Percy’s smile widened. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking…’
Chapter 18
Bullseye
Joe looked baffled. ‘And what’s fire got to do with anything?’
‘Haven’t a clue,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Edgar … any ideas?’
‘Crumblies, no,’ Edgar replied. ‘I’d never have worked that out. I’m distinctly dim most of the time.’
‘What’s a Salamander?’ Joe asked.
‘It’s an amphibian, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘However, in classical antiquity, the Salamander was always associated with fire. In fact, the word ‘Salamander’ derives from the Greek for ‘fire lizard’.’
‘So are we supposed to walk through fire or summat?’ Joe asked.
‘I certainly hope not,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I’m sure it’ll all become clear, however, when we reach the Chamber of the Ancients.’
‘Then what’re we waiting for? Let’s get cracking…’’ Joe turned eagerly to Edgar. ‘Edgar, where did you say this Chamber was?’
‘On the borders of Memphis, at Saqqara, the City of the Dead …’
Becky felt a stab of panic. ‘The City of the Dead?’
Uncle Percy noticed Becky’s anxious expression. Keen to put her mind at ease, he said, ‘It’s a cemetery, Becky, nothing more sinister than that. A vast cemetery … the oldest in Egypt.’
‘And the first Minotaur burial site since the exodus from our motherland,’ Edgar offered. ‘The Chamber was built adjacent to the area known as ‘The Cemetery of the Sacred Bulls’.’
A flash of recognition flickered on Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Isn’t that where they buried the Apis Bulls?’
‘It is, Perce,’ Edgar said. ‘I’m impressed. You certainly know your Egyptian history.’
‘I know bits. Charles Butterby is the real expert.’
‘What are the Apis Bulls?’ Becky asked, enthralled.
Edgar leveled his eyes at her. ‘From the moment Minotaurs first appeared in Memphis, manfolk looked upon my kind as celestial figures. Soon, they conceived the bull god, Apis, and worshipped him like no other. To honour Apis, the Memphian clerics would select an actual bull and, believing it to be the earthly embodiment of Apis himself, bestow upon it all the luxuries of the world until it passed, laying it to rest in the Cemetery of the Sacred Bulls. A new Apis bull would then be found and the cycle would continue.’
‘How fascinating,’ Uncle Percy said truthfully. ‘I had no idea there was such a connection between Apis and the early Minotaurs.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Edgar said. ‘My grandfather was a keen historian, particularly in relation to Egypto-lantean history, and passed much of it on to me.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘Somehow I inherited his passion for it.’
‘Fantastic,’ Uncle Percy beamed. ‘It’s always so inspiring to find the truth behind these legends.’ He looked at Becky and Joe. ‘Don’t you agree?’
‘Yes,’ Becky agreed.
Joe, on the other hand, looked bored. ‘Whatever …’ His face brightened again. ‘But now we know where the Chamber is, shouldn’t we get our skates on and whizz back to Ancient Egypt?’
Uncle Percy tutted. ‘You do know you’re receiving the most extraordinary, not to mention unique history lesson here, young man?’
‘Lessons are for borin’ school,’ Joe replied, much to Uncle Percy’s visible frustration. ‘I want to go on a kick-ass adventure and find the Spear of Fate.’
Uncle Percy was about to challenge when he stopped himself. Sensing it was futile to argue, he said, ‘Then you’ll be delighted to know we’re leaving this afternoon. Barbie
is preparing the time machine as we speak.’
‘Excellent,’ Joe replied. ‘Which one are we taking? Bertha? Beryl? Betty?’
‘Blanche,’ Uncle Percy replied.
Becky and Joe swapped excited glances.
‘And what type of vehicle is she?’ Joe asked.
‘You’ll see …’
It was then Becky remembered something. ‘Uncle Percy, what was Mr. Butterby holding in the Time Room? I saw him on the Hologramophone. He was holding something … something red. He looked nervous. As soon as he knew we could see him he tried to hide it, but it was too late.’
‘Err, you don’t miss much, do you?’ Uncle Percy said awkwardly. He – err –brought me something. Something he’d acquired on a recent time trip.’
‘What?’ Becky pressed. ‘And why did he try to hide it?’
‘I’ll show you later.’
‘Show me later,’ Becky replied. ‘Tell me now.’
‘I’d need to show you.’
‘So where’s Butterby now?’ Joe asked.
‘Mister Butterby has returned home to get ready.’
Joe’s eyes narrowed. ‘Ready for what?’
‘He’s coming to Egypt with us,’ Uncle Percy said matter-of-factly. Seeing that Joe was about to object, he said, ‘Charles is an expert on Egyptian customs. He could prove himself quite useful in certain situations.’
‘Can he fight?’ Joe pressed.
Uncle Percy frowned. ‘What on earth has that got to do with anything?’
‘In case we get into a scrap.’
‘I have every intention of avoiding any scraps, thank you very much,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘Yeah, but they seem to find us anyway,’ Joe muttered. ‘And let’s face it, Aribert Heim is poncing around Ancient Egypt with a shed load of Drake’s gorillas, so I think we’d better prepare for the worst.’
‘Oh, I certainly am preparing for the worst,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘Believe me, I’ve made modifications to Blanche I’d never under normal circumstances dream of making in a million years.’
Joe raised his eyebrows. ‘What modifications?’
‘Never you mind,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘The fact is, I will be setting Blanche’s chronalometer to the year 1460BC, one hundred years or so before Heim is due to set foot in Egypt, so I’m hopeful to avoid any physical altercations.’ His eyes found Edgar’s. ‘Now, Edgar, we’re leaving for Ancient Egypt this afternoon, but I’ll make sure that Barbie keeps a close eye on you and –’
‘What do you mean, Perce?’ Edgar replied. ‘I’m coming too.’
‘Oh, no, my friend,’ Uncle Percy replied warmly. ‘I can’t allow that. You’re very poorly.’
‘Tush and frapplepotts.’ In one movement, Edgar yanked the tubes from his arms until they dangled down like worms. He hurled his bedding aside. Pressing his spade-sized hands flat against the floor, he pushed himself up and got to his feet; swaying slightly until he gained his balance, he flexed his enormous arms, his curved horns scraping the ceiling. Then he looked down at them all. ‘I feel as fit as a Kithara.’
Becky’s mouth fell open. The scars that peppered his body made him look more formidable than ever.
‘Are you sure?’ Uncle Percy said.
‘I am,’ Edgar replied. ‘‘Moreover, you are entering the dominion of my ancestors. It is only fitting an Atlantean son should accompany you on that journey.’ His voice darkened. ‘After all, who can truly know the perils that await should you open the Chamber of the Ancients?’
At hearing his change of tone, Becky felt nervous. ‘What do you mean - perils?’
Edgar paused. ‘My grandfather told me the path to Poseidon’s Temple is paved with many dangers - that Thoth, an Atlantean Elder, a great architect, sorcerer, artist and engineer, embedded magic in its very walls to guard against the unworthy.’
‘What kind of magic?’
‘The darkest kind,’ Edgar replied. ‘Unnatural. Terrible magic. All of it now lost to history…’
Joe saw Becky’s dismayed expression and flicked her ear. ‘Don’t get your wand in a twist, Hermione, I’ll protect you.’
Becky was about to kick him when Uncle Percy cut in.
‘But those could just be stories, couldn’t they, Edgar?’
Edgar shrugged his shoulders. ‘Of course.’
‘Then let’s worry about any so-called magic, if and when we come across it.’ He placed a sympathetic hand on Edgar’s forearm. ‘Now are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay here and rest? If I were a doctor I’m sure that would be my advice.’
‘No,’ Edgar replied firmly. ‘I must accompany you. Furthermore, I think you’re forgetting how the Egyptians perceive my kind. You may find it useful having something of a God on your side….’
Uncle Percy couldn’t argue with that.
*
It was late morning when Becky and Joe made their way back to the Hall. Uncle Percy had decided that they were leaving for Ancient Egypt at three, and insisted they eat a hearty lunch and get some rest before the trip.
Food and rest, however, were the last things on Becky’s mind. She was worried. Edgar’s concerns about what lay beyond the Chamber of the Ancients, Butterby’s troubled expression as he studied the unseen object, and last but not least, Heim’s presence in all of this had made her very anxious indeed. She suspected Joe felt the same way, but he was doing everything he could to hide it, filling the nervy silence with as many questions as he could.
‘So what d’you think Edgar meant by ‘perils’?’
‘No idea.’
‘What do you think Butterby was hiding?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Underground temples, the Gadeirus Tablet, the Tauri Stones - it all sounds proper Lara Croft, don’t you think?’
‘I s’pose,’ Becky replied. ‘Maybe you should get some hot pants and a ponytail and you can raid a few pyramids while we’re there then?’
Joe ignored her. ‘ - And this dark magic stuff seems a bit far-fetched, don’t you reckon?’
‘Far-fetched?’ Becky sneered. ‘You do realise we were told about it by a fifteen foot Minotaur?’
Becky and Joe entered the kitchen door. They were relieved to find out that Maria and Jacob had left for Addlebury to do some last minute Christmas shopping. Maria had left them a huge platter of roast beef and mustard sandwiches and they launched into them with gusto, thankful their meal wasn’t disrupted by a flurry of probing questions about the coming trip.
A short while later, Becky entered her bedroom. To her surprise, she saw an assortment of simple but elegant garments hanging from her wardrobe door: a pearl white knee-length linen tunic with a plaited belt, a chestnut-brown cotton cloak, and a pair of leather sandals. Walking over, she detached the tunic and allowed her fingers to glide over the soft, silky material. It felt so cool to the touch. Immediately, she shivered as though someone had dropped an icicle down her back; the thought of wearing something so light, so delicate, conflicted wildly against the stinging cold outside.
She returned the tunic to its hanger and curled up on the four poster bed, her body aflutter with mixed emotions - worry, unease, doubt; but one emotion dominated the others: excitement. After all, she was travelling to Ancient Egypt on the quest for The Spear of Fate.
And it didn’t get much better than that.
Chapter 19
Utterly Butterby
An hour later, Becky was woken from a deep sleep by the shrill, staccato yelp of Marian, Will’s Golden Eagle, somewhere in the grounds. She looked at her clock: 2.45. They were leaving in fifteen minutes.
Leaping out of bed, she began to dress. As she checked herself out in the mirror, she glimpsed a flash of metal on the dressing table: Orff’s knife. Walking over, she picked it up and withdrew it slowly from its sheath, its razor sharp blade gleaming in the dull light. Soundlessly, she slipped it into her cloak pocket and left the room.
Walking down the narrow, portrait-lined corridors, she weaved right and approached
Joe’s bedroom door. She was about to knock when it opened with a bang.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ Joe said, panting. ‘I’ve just text you. I fell asleep and only woke up a minute ago.’
Becky scanned him top to bottom; stopping halfway, her expression froze into a mask of joy. Clearly visible beneath his black cloak, was something she didn’t expect to see. ‘You’re wearing a skirt?’ she sniggered.
‘It’s a kilt.’
‘It’s a skirt,’ Becky howled.
‘It’s a kilt,’ Joe said, his voice rising slightly.
‘I’ve seen that style in Primark. It’s a skirt.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘I thought you’d become the all-new action hero. I don’t remember Captain America wearing a skirt.’
‘It’s a kilt,’ Joe growled. ‘Will wore one to Ancient Crete. You didn’t take the mickey out of him.’
‘Will hasn’t got twiglets for legs.’
Joe told her in no uncertain terms where she could stick her twiglets.
Becky and Joe left the Hall to find the snow was melting fast; rigid blades of grass pushed through the remaining muddy white sludge like matchsticks. An amber sun was high overhead, bisected every now and again by wisps of puffy white cloud.
Despite the relative warmth, Becky found her Egyptian outfit far too flimsy to dawdle and marched quickly beside Joe to Uncle Percy’s laboratory, where they found the door wide open. Inside, Uncle Percy and Will were standing at the far wall, each wearing identical outfits to Joe (although both had swords), and talking quietly about something long and cylindrical in Uncle Percy’s hand.
The second Uncle Percy saw Becky and Joe he slipped the object hastily into his cloak pocket. Unfortunately for him, Becky noticed. ‘What’s that?’
‘What’s what?’
‘That thing you just put in your pocket hoping we wouldn’t see.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Uncle Percy replied quickly. ‘Anyway, I’m delighted your costumes fit, so shall we -’
