by R. G. Bullet
Archy felt relieved. Telling her had been much easier than he imagined. It was going to be fun. There was only one thing that bothered him.
“But we can’t take that much stuff, Georgia,” Archy said with a concerned glance at her backpack, “because of the risk of not bringing everything back. That’s one of their rules.”
Georgia hugged the backpack close. “I understand, but I need all of this stuff, Archy—honestly.” She smiled at him again. “We have to find that gateway thing, two hours and sixteen minutes is all we’ve got left,” she said, changing the subject.
“Classic!” said Vincent, watching Georgia cast her spell. “Anyway, we’ve got one hour and sixteen minutes. Italy is one hour ahead.”
Archy jumped up. “I’d forgotten the time difference.” He surveyed the hilly terrain. “The gateway’s around here somewhere.” He picked up his backpack and helped Georgia hoist hers onto her shoulders.
The valley was covered in lush grass and sloped sharply downward It had no special landmarks, no water troughs, no animals—only hedges around the perimeter and a thicket at the bottom.
“We landed pretty close. This must be the right area,” said Archy, pointing to the swaying trees that now danced in the winds blowing off the northern slope of the vale.
“What exactly are we looking for?” said Vincent.
Archy opened up the envelope and took out the entrance riddle. He read it out loud:
Common is the land that hides this gate
It stirs no man to ponder or wait.
Seek under muck and betwixt the lime
Then turn the key with ease from behind.
But be quick of foot and use your matter
For the rains that come have lives to shatter.
“What does it mean? It sounds weird,” said Vincent.
At that moment the sky began to cloud over and the wind ripped through the tall grass.
Georgia held her palm up, feeling a drizzle. “I think it means we’re going to get wet.” She took a plastic bag out of her pocket and placed the camera inside.
As the rains got stronger their brisk walk turned into a mad dash down the hill. They tore through the brush and gathered under the canopy. Heavy raindrops started smacking the leaves around them, intermittently at first, and then with a growing volume as it began to pour. Archy felt something bubble between his fingers and looked down to see the riddle dissolving.
“Come on,” he shouted above the downpour. “The gateway has to be underground and around here somewhere.”
The three started pushing the bushes aside, searching for an entrance with no real idea what they were looking for. Vincent snapped off a branch and prodded the earth beneath him, while Georgia and Archy spread out in different directions, kicking the foliage as they went.
Soon the rain was falling so hard that the ground turned into sticky mud. Archy kept checking his watch. Fifteen minutes shot past. The pressure to find the gateway was mounting. Vincent was thirty yards away, swinging at the ground like a mad golfer. And as Georgia darted between the ferns her trousers were covered in sludge.
Archy touched the backpack that held the rug. It was all soaked. He squinted against the driving rain and a chill ran up his spine as a horrendous image of Bundo flared in his mind. The same feeling he had at Alturus’s flat squirmed in his stomach. The hounds were loose—wherever they were.
“We need to find this gateway, c’mon!” Archy yelled. The thought that the Kurul could be lurking only spurred him on. With ten minutes left they had become frantic.
“HEY, I’ve found something, I’ve found something. Look!”
Vincent lifted a heavy branch and brought it down hard on the ground. There was an unmistakable hollow thud. Archy sped over, dropped to his knees and thrust his hands into the slurry, feeling from side to side.
“It’s a handle. Help me, Vincent.”
Vincent bent down and found the handle on the other side and together they heaved open a trapdoor. Mud and grass slid off either side. The entrance revealed a very narrow stairway of yellowish stone that led straight down into a sinister-looking, dark hole.
“I’m going down. Wait here a minute.” Archy pulled out a flashlight. Georgia shot him a nervous look. It looked treacherous but Archy summoned all his courage. He made his way down the stairs with the water gushing in behind him. A strong smell of mold filled his nostrils.
Before long the others could hear his voice echoing off the walls. “It’s down here. I’ve found it. Come on!” Archy called, the flashlight beam cutting across the blackness. Vincent and Georgia followed.
At the bottom they stood up to their knees in icy, black water. Archy was at the far end, the flashlight in his mouth, his hands fumbling with the keys. The light caught a stunning golden portcullis, showing the grillwork pattern of SOTS. It rose from the inky water, and its shiny bars pierced the rocky ceiling. It seemed so out of place in such a nasty and cramped cavern, but Archy was relieved to see it.
The wind made a ghostly whistling noise around the entrance and the trap doors slammed shut with a deafening boom. Vincent waded back to the entrance and climbed the steps. The trap doors had stopped the rush of water, but it had begun to squirt in from every crack. He pushed up against it with all his force but it didn’t move. He slipped down the stairs and plunged into the water, then picked himself up and stood shivering next to Georgia.
“C’mon, Archy,” Georgia urged, taking Archy’s flashlight and shinning it on the lock of the gateway. The water churned around her waist and her shoulders were hunched with cold.
The force of the water swirling around them pushed them together, up close and against the gate. Archy’s hands trembled but he continued trying the lock.
Georgia blurted out the line from the riddle: “Turn the key with ease from behind! Put your hand through and try the key from the other side, Archy.”
Archy pushed his arm through the bars and turned the key in the lock. The gate opened smoothly.
They waded through to the other side, gripping the bars as they went. Archy locked the door shut and withdrew the key. Without warning, water began to surge with such ferocity that none of them could hold on any longer.
Archy flashed the light to see a small tunnel winding ahead. “Hang on!” he hollered above the din, but there was nothing to hold onto, only smooth stone walls rushing past them.
They barreled along, one behind the other. Archy held his arms straight out in front to protect himself in the dark. Georgia hung onto Archy’s backpack, and Vincent bounced on his bottom from side to side behind them. The water carried them faster and faster. It threw them around curves, quickening with every twist and turn. They slid at such speed that Archy’s head began to spin.
Archy lost all sense of time and space. He felt as if he were watching himself in a dream. For a brief moment he rolled upside down, then right-side up again. A chink of blue light shone ahead. The tunnel had turned into giant blender and the blue light grew larger with every spin. The roar around him returned and he was spat from the end of the tunnel like a cannonball into the clear blue sky.
Chapter 30
The Source
Wwwwwwaaaaahhh!”
For a split second Archy got a glimpse of a large, oval lake below. He plunged into the water. He felt Georgia and Vincent crash the water above him. His backpack slowed his descent and he began to kick frantically for the surface. He grabbed Georgia’s collar on the way up and could see Vincent among the silvery bubbles, thrashing wildly for the top. They broke the surface together with a gasp and headed for the shore, where they slumped on the muddy banks, heaving and spluttering for breath. Archy finally released the straps of his soaked backpack.
“You two all right?” he asked.
Georgia pulled her head up slowly. “I think so.”
Archy could see her still clutching the flashlight tightly in her hand. “I thought we were goners,” he croaked. “If Georgia hadn’t suggested the other side of the gate we’d have been i
n serious trouble.”
Vincent was on his knees coughing up water. “Yeah. Well played, Georgia!”
Archy sat for a while in a daze, taking in their new surroundings. The cave that had spewed them out was on a ragged cliff. The wave of water that had fired them out was now a trickle. A lush meadow surrounded the lake and birdsong filled the air.
Just as he slumped against the sodden backpack, Georgia jumped up.
“Archy, my backpack!”
They all looked at the lake’s surface hoping it would be floating. Only two small objects bobbed near the shore.
“My shoes,” Vincent said listlessly. “I told you they’d float.”
But there was no sign of Georgia’s backpack.
“Sorry Georgia, it’s pretty deep. I promise to get you new stuff.”
“That’s not the point, Archy, is it? You said we can’t leave anything behind,” she said, waving the flashlight at him.
Archy’s head dropped down and he let out a groan. He couldn’t bring himself to think of the consequences. Vincent waded back into the lake to get his shoes and to see if he could spot the backpack.
Suddenly a scrawny-looking boy came out of the bushes, waving a wooden stick and howling like a dog. The boy took a large swipe at Archy, missing his head by an inch.
“OOww you little…” said Archy.
The boy screamed and raised the stick again above his head. Whooosh! The stick cut through the air, just missing Archy another time.
“Get him!” said Vincent, scrambling out of the lake, but the boy sidestepped him and fled in the opposite direction.
Vincent picked himself up and bound after him, launched a flying tackle and sent the boy sprawling across the lake’s weedy banks. Vincent’s sheer weight pinned the boy, who flapped like a fresh-caught fish.
A little girl dashed from the bushes and jumped onto Vincent’s back, trying to drag him off.
“Stop, Vincent!” shouted Georgia. “They’re too small!”
“Vincent!” Archy cried. “Stop!”
Vincent threw the boy’s stick into the lake and the boy got to his knees, panting. He had wild black hair that looked like it had been cut with a knife, and a slim, bony face. He wore a threadbare tunic, now splattered in mud, with a faded, brown border. A coil of twine hung around his shoulders.
The little girl slid off Vincent’s back. Her large eyes were framed by long, flowing, black hair. She also wore a tunic, held at the waist by a tiny leather belt. Now she clung to the boy’s hand.
The boy stared back at them defiantly, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. Vincent stepped closer to Archy.
“I think those keys worked, Archy. See, they’re dressed… well… almost like Romans.” He flicked the dirt from under his eyes.
The boy was still inspecting them. “We’re not the ones dressed strangely, and we are Romans,” he said defensively.
Archy extended his hand but the boy simply looked at it. “My name’s Archy and these are my two friends, Vincent and his twin sister Georgia. We just arrived.”
Georgia looked at the little girl and crouched down to her height. “Are you all right? What’s your name?” The little girl smiled and it lit up her whole face.
“Tati can’t speak. She’s my sister,” said the boy. His tone warmed slightly. “My name is Tullius,” he said, with a single pat to his chest.
The little girl let out a warbling, bird-like whistle.
“She’s saying hello,” said Tullius.
“I didn’t know you spoke English,” said Vincent.
Tullius shot him a confused look. “Spoke—what?”
Archy leaned into Vincent. “The language changes with the gateways. Sentinel Remnant explained it. We can speak their language and they can speak ours. It’s called xenoglossy, I think—”
Vincent was too intrigued by Tullius to listen to Archy. “Sorry I tackled you. Anyway, you’d be a great scrum half in rugby,” he said.
“Skrumaarf?” Tullius said. “Where are you from? The north?”
“Yes we’re from the north. We’re only here for a few days. We’ve got to make a delivery,” said Archy.
He unrolled the rug over the grass, hoping the sun would start to dry it out.
Georgia began to ask questions and Tullius opened up.
“I come every full moon to take fish from here.” His speech contained strange expressions, Archy noticed, but he understood him nonetheless. “Fishing in Ostia is too difficult for us,” Tullius said.
All the while Tati sat close to Georgia, studying her sparkling hair pins and bracelets.
They listened to Tullius tell them that the vast Roman army had based several legions and sailors in the coastal town of Ostia. Tullius and Tati had lived there because their father had joined the army, promising he would make his fortune, but after countless months, he did not return. Later that year, their mother died. Tullius told them that there were riots going on at the time of her death, and no one had helped them.
“We now live within the city walls,” he explained, “and we sell fish and flat cakes to the market’s visitors. I catch the fish and Tati makes the cakes.”
It was a hard life. Archy was horrified to hear how many times they had been robbed. Rome had grown so rapidly its streets were filled with many children like them.
Tullius pulled his tunic from his shoulder to reveal where he’d been badly burned, the result of living in crammed hovels downstream of the Tiber River.
He apologized to Vincent for attacking him and explained to them he set traps on the bottom of the lake to catch the mud crabs, and had simply thought Vincent was out to steal them. When Georgia mentioned she had lost her backpack in the lake, Tullius stood up.
“What area was this loss?” he asked, casting his eye over the still waters of the lake.
“Over there, where the water comes out of the cave.”
Tullius didn’t hesitate. He tied the twine around his waist, waded into the lake, and swam effortlessly to the middle.
“Near here?” His voice echoed off the cliff.
“Yes, I think so,” said Georgia, looking as Tullius dipped below the surface.
Archy checked his watch: 47 hours 12 minutes to deliver the gladius and find the gateway exit. He watched the lake’s surface. A minute passed and Tullius still hadn’t come up for air. Tati didn’t appear concerned at all. She studied the shiny buckle on Georgia’s belt.
At long last Tullius emerged near the bank. “It’s a heavy satchel,” he said, tugging the coarse twine. Archy and Vincent strode over to help pull it out.
“That must’ve been over two minutes he was underwater, Archy,” said Vincent, gripping the twine and leaning back on it.
“It was one forty-six,” said Archy.
They dragged Georgia’s weed-covered backpack onto the grass.
“Thank you, Tullius,” said Georgia sweetly.
Tullius grinned back at her. “Are you hungry? I have fish smoking on a healthy fire.”
“Sounds good! You cook too, huh, Tullius?” said Vincent, moving in.
Georgia took the T-shirt they had bought and walked off to change. Tati stuck close, circling her like a puppy. When they returned to the group Archy noticed that the large gray T-shirt passed well as a toga but Georgia had placed her belt around the middle. The buckle twinkled in the sunlight. He didn’t say a thing.
Tullius’s lunch was delicious. The white fish had a smoky flavor, and the olive flatbread Tati brought out was moist and tasty. Vincent wolfed his down and then went for more. Finally, Tullius said he and Tati had to leave.
“Is it far?” asked Vincent, licking his fingers noisily and ignoring the disgusted stares of Georgia.
“Yes, by foot it can take a day, sometimes more. Tati gets tired and we have to sleep in the woods and it is dangerous.” He paused. “But I’ve found an easier way.” He looked up at the sky, and cupped his hand over his eyes, observing the position of the sun. “It takes me quickly and I can be beh
ind Rome’s walls before nightfall—I leave now.”
Archy’s watch showed 3:00 p.m.
“Tullius!” said Archy. “We need to go to Rome too. Let’s travel together. We’re not so sure of the way.”
Doubt showed on Tullius’s face. “It would be an honor but it’s not a good idea to take too many. It’s dangerous. If we are caught, the penalty is death. Come, Tati—let’s go.” He strapped on his sandals and helped Tati tie hers up. But Tati stood up before he finished and made several hand signals—whistling tones sweeter than a caged bird.
Tullius squeezed her cheek.
“Tati thinks you are good luck. Come get your things,” he said to the group.
Without delay Archy slipped on his toga and Vincent put on his T-shirt, which fell to his mid thighs. He stood awkwardly, trying to stretch it down further. The girls laughed.
Together they started out through the woods. The roar of gushing water grew louder. Archy trotted up until he accompanied Tullius at the front of the group. “How do you get to the city so fast?”
“Over here, I’ll show you,” said Tullius. “We travel by Marcia, Aqua Marcia!”
He pushed the thorny plants apart and revealed the most astonishing view. There below them was the beginning of a thundering aqueduct. The water burst out from under a rocky formation, pressured from the lake above. Walls directed the flow along the mighty waterway, which ran in a straight line across the hills, above the fields, across the dark green of the woods, and into the great city beyond.
Archy thought it was an incredible sight to see no trucks or cars or paved roads with signs. The forests that extended on either side were vast.
“Goodness!” gasped Georgia. “Rome!”
“Yes, Roma!” said Tullius, and then pointed to Vincent. “Can you help me? You are nice and plump. I need your strength.”
Georgia laughed and they watched as Vincent and Tullius went off together.
“It’s unbelievable that we’re here,” said Georgia. “The keys really worked!”
“Yeah!” said Archy, feeling the keys around his neck. “Oh, no!” He started patting his pockets in a frenzy, then turned to his backpack. “The exit riddle—all that water would have dissolved it.” He tore through the contents then looked up at Georgia with horror stamped on his face. “The stupid thing’s gone.”
