Heronidus stepped forward and saluted the soldier in the plumed helmet by raising his right fist to his chest. “Centurion Gaius, we have strangers to our lands to present to the Council of Elders.”
The centurion glanced to Jake and Kady. His only reaction was a slight widening of his eyes.
“We believe they may be spies sent by Kalverum Rex,” Heronidus added, and stiffened his back to the point Jake thought something might snap.
The centurion studied Jake and Kady. The hardness in his face softened with amusement. Crinkles around the corners of his eyes deepened, indicating the man laughed often. Jake found himself liking Gaius though he hadn’t spoken a word.
“If these are spies,” the centurion said, “then the Skull King certainly starts with them young.”
Heronidus shifted his stance. His face was beet red at the doubt in the centurion’s voice. He glanced quickly over to Pindor, as if blaming his younger brother. To save face, Heronidus turned back to the centurion and sputtered, “But shouldn’t the Council of Elders decide such matters and rule—”
Centurion Gaius clapped Heronidus on the shoulder, silencing him. “You are correct, young Heronidus. These two should be brought before the Council. Strange tidings mark their arrival here. Especially with rumors of late from our scouts sent into the deep jungle—at least those few who have returned….”
His face darkened, and he nodded to the two mounted riders. “I will take your charges to the Council. You two return to your posts at the gates.”
Gaius turned back to Jake and Kady after speaking to a young boy in a belted toga. The boy took off on foot, running toward the castle. Probably a courier, sent ahead to announce their arrival. “I am Marcus Gaius, first centurion of the Saddleback Guard.”
“Jake…Jacob Ransom. This is my sister. Kady.”
“Katherine Ransom,” his sister corrected, standing a little taller, though she blushed a bit at the man’s attention.
Gaius nodded. “Names as peculiar as your dress. If you’ll both follow me, we shall seek an audience with the Council.” He turned his gaze upon Heronidus, along with Pindor and Marika. “You shall all come and give a full report to the Council.”
To Jake’s right, Pindor groaned under his breath. He plainly was not happy that he would have to explain where he had been with Marika. On the other hand, Marika nodded sharply, fully ready to cooperate, to prove she was right about the strangers.
As a group, they set off toward the castle’s main entrance. Passing into the shadow under the tree, Jake heard a rustling overhead and stared up. Among the lower branches hung small creatures with scaly wings and pointed heads.
Tiny pterodactyls.
“Any word from the hunters in the field?” Gaius asked one of the lounging soldiers, who snapped to attention.
“No, Centurion Gaius. Not a single dartwing has returned from the jungle in a fortnight. We’re preparing to send one out now.” The man pointed to where another soldier sat on a stool. The soldier had one of the pygmy pterosaurs secured between his knees and set about tying a small silvery tube to its back, like a little saddle.
“We’ve been sending out two dartwings a day as ordered,” the soldier walking stiffly next to Gaius said, “but not one has returned.”
The seated soldier finished his work, stood, and tossed the tiny pterosaur into the air. Its wings snapped out, and it caught the wind. The creature sailed across the yard, and with a fluttering beat of its wings, cleared the castle wall and headed away.
Jake watched its flight, then stared up at the branches full of pterosaurs. They must be used as messengers. Like homing pigeons.
Distracted, Jake banged his knee into a box on the ground. A spitting hiss drove him back. The box was a wooden crate with bars across one side. A creature hunched at the back of the cage. Jake couldn’t make out what it was, only that it was angry at being disturbed. All he saw was a pair of golden eyes, reflecting the shine of the setting sun.
He stepped nearer, curious—then it suddenly lunged against the bars. Startled, Jake dropped back and landed on his rear. The caged creature was no larger than his dog, Watson. But this beast was all black fur with ripples of fiery orange. Hackles were raised and a short mane framed a muzzled face that sprouted fangs as long as Jake’s outstretched hand. The creature spit and hissed. Its curled lips revealed the full length of those fangs.
Like a saber-toothed tiger but smaller, Jake thought. Perhaps an early ancestor of the larger saber-toothed cats. Something like Rhabdofelix.
“Get back from there, boy!” a guard warned.
The commotion drew the centurion’s attention. The soldier at his side explained. “A patrol trapped it in the Sacred Woods. Thought maybe we could train it. Can’t be more than a year old. Maybe as young as nine moons.”
Gaius hunched down. “Nine? She’s going to be big.”
The soldier next to Gaius sighed. “But she’s too wild, too dangerous. Almost took a chunk out of Huntmaster Rullus. So we’re saving it to use as bait during a practice hunt.”
Jake tensed. During the discussion, he had moved closer to the crate again and stared inside. They planned to kill her.
Jake couldn’t say why he did what he did next. With a glance over his shoulder, he reached toward the latch that secured the cage. Kady noticed him and mouthed, No.
He stared hard at her with his eyebrows high. Kady might sometimes be a self-centered, stuck-up brat, but she had a soft spot for animals in need. Last year, she even got her cheering squad to sponsor a walkathon for the local animal shelter.
Kady rolled her eyes and turned her back on Jake. She pointed off across the yard and yelled quite sharply, striking a pose of terror. “What’s that over there?”
As usual with Kady, everyone turned and stared.
Using her distraction, Jake flipped open the latch, then hurried a few steps away. He checked around. No one saw what he did. Not even the cat. It remained crouched in the back of the cage.
Jake risked a hushed “Go,” willing it to move.
The Rhabdofelix finally slinked toward the bars and creaked the door wider with a nose. As it swung open, she slipped out, low to the ground, her long tail curled into a question mark, her posture all suspicion and wariness. Her eyes were fixed on Jake. Her nostrils flared, taking in his scent. Her ears, high and alert, swiveled like radar dishes.
“Run,” he urged under his breath, and waved toward the open castle gates.
With a surge of muscle, she suddenly shot away. The only mark of her passage was a panicked burst of wings as the flock of the dartwings took off in fright from the tree branches.
Their squawking drew the attention of the soldiers upward—then down to the cage with its open door. A flurry of commotion and yelling erupted, but it was too late.
The cat swept out the gate and vanished into the tangle and tumble of the city. Soldiers took off on foot, but Jake suspected the cat would never be caught.
Trying his best, Jake kept his face innocent. He caught a spark in Marika’s eyes. She stared at him a few seconds before she turned away. If she suspected anything, she stayed quiet.
Centurion Gaius spoke sharply and pointed toward the castle. “Enough. We should not keep the Elders waiting.”
The castle of Kalakryss filled the back half of the courtyard. Jake studied the fortification as they approached the main gateway. As he craned his neck, he spotted something shining atop the right tower. The slanting sunlight sparked brightly off a domed structure made of beaten bronze. It looked like an observatory used to study stars.
Before he could examine it further, they passed under the archway and through a set of huge doors. Jake had expected the inside of the castle to be dark and gloomy. Instead he found the entryway warmed by colorful tapestries on the walls and rugs underfoot. The air was refreshingly cooler, well insulated against the heat of the sun. A massive bronze chandelier lit the space—but not with flickering candle flames. The light shone steadily.
&n
bsp; Jake thought there were lightbulbs up there, but the shape of each bulb was jagged and angular. They looked like chunks of raw crystal—only each shone with a brilliance that stung the eye.
Jake looked away with a frown. What was powering the crystals?
Gaius led them down the center aisle of a long and narrow hall. Wooden benches, like church pews, lined both sides, all facing toward the hall’s far end. The walls were hung with banners, a dozen to a side. Each was emblazoned with symbols, like a collection of knights’ coats of arms.
Flags.
Marika saw his interest and said, “The banners represent each of the Lost Tribes.”
They stopped at the front of the hall under a set of high, narrow windows, flanked by archways. Beneath the windows stood an upper and lower set of judicial benches with three tall chairs on each level.
Three people marched out of the left archway, each wearing matching expressions of concern. But they couldn’t have been more different. One wore clothes like Pindor and Heronidus, but a crown of laurel leaves marked his brow.
He was flanked by an old man with Asian features, bald except for a long white mustache that draped below his chin and a thin beard. On his other side strode a long-limbed middle-aged woman with braided red hair, dressed in a green tunic and pants. A helmet with two curled horns sat atop her head.
“Calypsos’s high Council,” Marika whispered.
Pindor hung back with the spear, trying to hide behind Gaius.
Under the heavy gaze of the Council, Kady moved closer to Jake.
Before anyone could speak, a sharp voice rang out from the right archway. “Newcomers! Surely that isn’t possible. But if true…can you imagine?”
The speaker appeared. He was short, and his gray hair stuck out a bit, like he had just woken up. He was clearly Mayan from the square of cloth tied around his shoulders, called a pati, adorned with feathers at the sleeves.
Another man waddled alongside him. He was as wide as he was tall. This rotund man wore a long robe with a hood, though the hood was down, revealing a head of bushy brown hair that was shaved on top. He looked like an English monk out of the Middle Ages. The monk pointed toward their group, and the Mayan man turned. His eyes widened, and he took a step toward them.
“Mari?” he said. “What are you doing here, my dear? Why aren’t you at school?”
“Papa, it was Pindor and I who—”
Papa? Jake glanced over to her.
She was cut off by a deep voice booming from the upper bench. “Pindor?”
The man with the crown of laurel leaves stood up from his chair. His eyes searched the floor below. Pindor reluctantly showed himself.
“What is this all about? What mischief have you and your friend conjured up? If this is some hoax?…If you’re wasting the Council’s valuable time…”
“No, Father.” Pindor spoke to the floor. “It is no hoax.”
Before anyone could explain, a third man appeared in the archway behind the monk. He moved silently, as thin as the shadow of a sundial. He wore a solid black robe that brushed the floor. Shaved-headed, his skin was dark, and his manner darker. His black eyes were cold and stony. His gaze swept the group without any flicker of emotion. What made his appearance even more disturbing were the tattoos across his forehead, inked in blood red. They were Egyptian hieroglyphics.
The man joined the first two, and together they crossed to the lower level and took their seats. Jake noticed each man wore a small silver hammer on a chain around his neck.
Jake glanced at Marika. She whispered, as quiet as a breath. “Those three are the Magisters…the three masters of alchemy.”
Pindor’s father had remained standing on the upper level. “With the Council fully assembled, let us discover who these strangers are and what danger they pose to Calypsos.”
Jake felt the weight of six pairs of eyes fall upon him and his sister.
9
THE COUNCIL OF ELDERS
“…and that’s how we came to bring them through the Broken Gate,” Marika finished.
Silence settled over the Council. Marika and Pindor had already been questioned at length, and there had been some commentary from Heronidus. So far, Jake and Kady had been ignored.
Marika’s father finally spoke up. “I would like to see a demonstration of this strange alchemy that drove away the thunder lizard.”
The monk nodded beside him. “I agree with Magister Balam. I would like to witness it myself.”
The third of the Magisters merely stared at Jake.
Pindor’s father waved from the top bench for them to obey.
Jake reached into his pocket and pulled out the dog whistle. “I don’t know if you’re going to hear anything.” He lifted the whistle to his mouth and blew into it.
Jake heard nothing more than a whispery keening note. The Elders at the bench seemed to hear even less. They shook their heads and shrugged shoulders.
“And that chased off a thunder lizard?” Pindor’s father asked, the doubt evident in his voice.
“It did, Elder Tiberius,” Marika declared. “It bears a strange silent alchemy.”
Jake spoke to the bench and held up the steel whistle. “This did not come from alchemy. It came from what we call alchemy.”
Jake frowned. He had been thinking science, but the word had come out of his lips as alchemy.
Confusion spread along the benches—all except for the Egyptian, who remained expressionless.
Jake touched his fingers to his throat and remembered what Marika had explained. Some mysterious force helped to translate his words into this All-Worlds language. Did the universal translator think alchemy and science were the same? And maybe in some ways they were. Didn’t ancient alchemists dabble in chemistry and physics? Even Isaac Newton considered himself an alchemist.
Jake tried again, concentrating on his words. “The whistle came not from alchemy…but from science.”
This time the word came out the way he wanted it to, but it took focus. His tongue fought forming the word. Sort of like trying to talk after the dentist had totally numbed his mouth.
“Sy-enz?” Marika’s father echoed.
Jake sought some way of demonstrating. He swung to Kady and pointed to her vest pocket. “Show them your iPod.”
“My iPod?”
“Let them listen to it.”
She frowned but obeyed.
As she fished out her iPod, Jake explained. “Where we come from, we use a different sort of alchemy called science.”
Kady fixed one of the earpieces in place and switched on the music player. Her eyebrows shot up. “Ohh, this is ‘Straightjacket Lover’!” she blurted out loudly. As all the eyes fixed on her, her voice turned meek. “It’s…it’s one of my favorites.”
Jake waved her forward. “Let them hear.”
Kady moved to the lower bench. The Elders and Magisters gathered and took turns listening though the earpieces. Eyes widened in surprise, but they didn’t freak out as much as Jake had been expecting. Afterward, the three Magisters leaned together in discussion.
Jake overheard a few words from Marika’s father: “…some type of farspeaker…an amalgam of green crystals perhaps…”
Jake lost the rest of the words as Pindor’s father pounded a fist on his side of the bench. “Enough of this. I would know more about the grakyl that tried to attack you at the Gate. Are you sure it was one of the Skull King’s minions?”
“I am certain of it, Father,” Pindor said.
The woman with the horned helmet—who had to be of Viking descent—spoke. “Kalverum Rex grows more bold with every passing season. If what the children say is true, he is scratching at our very gates.”
“It is indeed worrisome, Astrid. What is the latest word from your huntresses?”
She shook her head. “We’ve still not heard from those sent deepest into the jungle. We pray to Odin with each moonrise for their safe return.”
“We will add our own prayers,” the Asian
man assured her. He turned to Jake and Kady. “Before we judge these newcomers, I would know more about what land they have come from. How did they come to be here?”
Jake felt the weight of the half coin around his neck. He cleared his throat first, fearing Kady might explain about the coins. He didn’t want that to happen. The coins might be their only way home. If they were taken away, it could leave them stranded here forever. But deeper down, Jake simply refused to be parted from them. They were the last gifts from his parents.
“We don’t know how we came here,” Jake said hesitatingly, cautiously. “One moment we were in a…in a great hall. During a big thunderstorm.”
He turned to Kady, who nodded.
“And the next, a bolt of lightning cracked and—bam—the world went dark. It felt like we were falling, then—wham—we are standing in the jungle.”
Nods from the Elders followed his words. He heard the word lightning repeated from the top level of the bench. It seemed such stories must be recorded from their own peoples’ landfall here.
“We come from a town called North Hampshire,” Jake continued. “In the land of America.”
“Ah-Merika?” Pindor’s father said with a crinkled brow. “This is an unknown tribe to us.”
Jake raised his voice a little to make it stronger. “We don’t know how or why we were brought here. But we know nothing of this Skull King, and we certainly are not spies for anyone. I swear.” Jake held up his right hand like a Boy Scout—though he’d never been in the Scouts.
Elder Tiberius stared down at Jake for a long breath. Jake kept his hand up and matched the intense gaze. Finally the Roman waved to the centurion guard. “Take these two somewhere private while we talk about all we’ve learned here.”
Gaius tapped his chest with a fist and motioned Jake and Kady to come.
Tiberius called out once more. “And have the boy leave his pack and the girl her strange musical tool. They will be examined by the Magisters for any sign of the Skull King’s alchemies.”
Their makeshift cell had no windows and was hardly larger than a walk-in closet. The floor was covered in dry hay. Shelves climbed the back wall and were stacked with green glass jars, sealed in thick wax, which hid murky contents. Wooden barrels and waist-high clay pots lined another wall. The place smelled musky and peppery.
Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow Page 8
